#and i disappear into the night once again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 2 days ago

Text

toxic till the end — fushiguro toji.

“You can’t fix everything. You should know that.” you replied, your words trembling as they left your lips. “I don’t know if I can ever forget that.” He nodded slowly, his expression one of deep regret. “I know.” Silence grew once more between the two of you. You could feel the tears pricking your eyes harshly. And you could tell that he was noticing as much as you.

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, nsfw, r-18, smut, making out, biting, scratching, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, fingering (female receiving), creampie, pet names (babe, etc....), age gap (reader is late 20s, toji is mid 30s) love, humor, light-hearted, long-term relationship, secret relationship, cheating, break-up, falling out of love, toxic relationship, drama, depression, grief, sexual intercourse, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of naked bodies, depiction of cheating, depiction of grief, depiction of depression, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, actor! toji, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 15k words

NOTE: i know i disappeared for almost a week and im really sorry,,,,,i just wasn't feeling well and in the middle of that - i was also busy. i genuinely wanted to publish something but there were things that came up - including me finishing a commission. and also worrying about uni stuff. its a really long one, i still have stuff to edit for bonus cuts for that. i am really sorry but i come back with a fury with toji!!! anyway, i hope my absence didnt make yall leave. enjoy and i love yall :']

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

══════════════════

YOU NEVER LIKED BEING PERCEIVED. Even if you were an actor, you didn’t want to be. You absolutely hated the attention, you hated having to be known to people you didn’t know on the street.

He knew that. Which is why you never allowed yourself to go on dates with him in that local restaurant. Or ever allow yourself to be comfortable kissing him, knowing paparazzis were following you both.

But he was loud about his love for you. He always has been. It was obvious when he looked at you during press tours. It was obvious when he heard the sound of your name and smiled like it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

He was never good at hiding the fact that he was in love. That’s just how it was with loving a man so magnetic and passionate as him. He tried to convince you that he wanted the world to know.

Yet, you weren’t prepared to do that. You weren’t prepared for the world to know, for the world to be in your bed. You didn’t want everyone to know that you were his, because you were scared. You were scared of what could happen.

You’ve gone through the trauma of it before, your own ex–boyfriend announcing the break–up before you even knew about the break up. And all the people that hated you, for making him sad. For all those fantasies in their head of all the things you did wrong. You were frightful that it would repeat all over again.

Perhaps he got tired of that. Perhaps he got tired of waiting. Maybe he got tired of you. And you were scared of that. You were scared that this was the case.

You were horrified that he would do the same thing like that ex-boyfriend you loved before. You didn’t want to manifest it. But you also didn’t make a move. You were right. He would get tired of you. You made it this way. You let this happen.

The apartment was eerily silent, the kind of silence that pressed down on you, making every breath feel heavier. You stood in the living room, arms crossed, heart racing as you waited for Toji to come home. He had a late night shoot, he told you. They’d extended the shoot, because of the weather. That’s what he said in the next text. He won’t be home until today.

But as you waited home, all that plagued your mind was the conversation with your friend this morning. You felt sick as the words repeated over the phone.

It won’t go away, not even when you want it to. It remained ever so present, still echoing, hammering deep in your mind. It was as if the weight of her words settled deep in your chest like a knife would.

"I saw Toji last night." she had said, her voice hesitant. "He was with someone else."

“What….what do you mean by that?” You muttered back at her, still reeling from the words that slipped from her mouth. “Surely it was just another cast member—”

“They were kissing, babes.” She told you earnestly, yet you could tell she was having a hard time with it. She knew that everything she’s saying was breaking your heart. “I’m so sorry.”

“No…no, thank you for telling me.”

You hung up after that. You didn’t know what else to say. What could you have said that could have made it any better? You couldn’t think of anything. All that remained were the years of memories together, now scattered across that empty space where love should be.

The betrayal, the doubt, and the fear had been building in that space where you should feel your love for him. A place where it is still there, that love, bleeding and tattered by all that grief that comes with mourning the relationship. And now, standing here in the place you both called home, it felt like you were about to explode.

The door clicked open just around lunch time. You had remembered you had given Toji a separate key for your house. Just as you had a key for his. You didn’t want to see him just yet. Not right now. Fushiguro Toji stepped in, face covered by the levelling of his cap. His usual confident demeanor clouded by an unease you hadn’t seen before. He looked at you, the tension in the air immediately palpable.

Babe, didn’t know you’d be awake." he said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"You said you’d never do that to me." you replied, your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger. “You said you wouldn’t be like him.”

He nodded, closing the door behind him. "Alright. What’s going on?"

"I know you were with someone else last night, and you kissed her. My friend saw you." you spat, your voice breaking with the anger and pain you kept hidden. "How could you do this? How could you betray me like that?"

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked caught off guard. Then his expression hardened. "It’s not what you think."

"Not what I think?" you repeated, your voice rising. "Then explain it to me, Toji. Explain why you were out with someone else while I was here, thinking everything was fine."

"I was tired, okay?" he snapped back, his voice louder now, the frustration evident. "Tired of feeling like I’m not enough, like I’m just waiting for you to trust me."

“How long has it been?” You asked him. “How long have you and your lover been going behind my back?”

“Babe—”

“How long?”

He looked away, the contorting guilt bellowing all over his face. This was a look you had seen time and time again. “A few months.”

"A few months." You repeated.

“Yes, but it was casual hook ups and she has a boyfriend too—”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” you shouted, tears streaming down your face. "You think that’s going to fix anything?"

"I didn’t plan for it to happen." he said, his voice softening, but the damage was done. "I was just... I felt alone."

"You felt alone?" you repeated, the hurt in your voice cutting through the air. "What about me, Toji? Do you have any idea how alone I’ve felt, wondering if you’d get tired of me, if you’d leave me like everyone else has?"

He took a step closer, his expression filled with regret. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did." you whispered, the fight leaving your body as the weight of it all pressed down on you. "God, I just….is it my fault? Is it because I have a busy schedule? Or is it just because I haven’t allowed the world to know about you? And you were desperate to be seen with someone?”

He shook his head. “That’s not the case.”

“It seems to look like it.” You laughed to yourself, almost mad in the thought of your grief. “You did say she had a boyfriend. I doubt that would have changed much, if she knew that you belonged to someone.”

He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours, filled with a regret that almost made your heart ache. His voice, usually so steady, trembled with sincerity. "Please, let’s talk about this. I can make this right."

The words hung in the air, heavy and bittersweet. You wanted to believe him, to let those words soothe the rawness inside you. But they felt too late, like a balm for wounds already too deep. You shook your head, the fight draining from your body as the weight of it all pressed down on you.

"You cheated on me. So brazenly." you whispered, your voice barely audible, laced with pain. "Just like he has. Just like every other man I’ve ever let into my life." The admission stung, the truth of it settling in your chest like a stone.

“Babe…..”

"Maybe you were just another number, another ex."

His face twisted in anguish, his hands clenching at his sides. "Babe, please, listen to me—"

“I’ve listened to you long enough.” Your voice was soft but firm, carrying the finality of a decision made. Tears blurred your vision, hot and relentless, streaking down your cheeks. “Just... leave your keys. I’m going. I can’t stand to look at you or stay with you here.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Toji's gaze faltered, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something more, to plead, to explain. But no words came. Slowly, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the keys that once symbolized shared moments, shared spaces, and placed them gently on the table.

“I’m sorry.” he said, his voice barely a whisper, a final echo of the love that had once been so vibrant between you.

You didn’t respond. There was nothing left to say. You turned, each step feeling heavier than the last as you walked away, leaving behind the remnants of a relationship that had once held so much promise. The door clicked shut behind you, the sound resonating like a chapter closing.

After that, he took all his stuff from your place and left. Even the keys. And you were glad he did. You were glad he wasn’t there. You blocked his number, you told your friends to stop relaying any messages from him he sent. You even cancelled any appearances with him for work, especially those for the Japanese leg of the press tour for Jujutsu Kaisen.

And then you disappeared, as though you didn’t exist.

You moved apartments, you didn’t tell anyone where you were. Only your manager knew, just so you could make it easier for her to pick you up for work schedules when you start doing them again. And changed phones and deleted your social media presence. You just wanted to be alone. You wanted to process the death of a seven year relationship.

Over half a year later, they start to see you again. The last they had seen you, you were still red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. You had explained that you dealt with some personal loss, which wasn’t untrue. People had speculations, they always have. But you didn’t want to admit to anything. You just let them have their fun and you let yourself have your grief.

The mirror had become a stranger for a while, reflecting someone you barely recognized, a shadow of the person you once were with Toji. The truest you had been yourself was with him. And now you have lost that. You had lost the version of yourself you had loved so dearly. And you hated how that too had revolved around him. Your most beloved life was him.

You hadn't planned on disappearing, not really. But each day felt heavier, each step harder to take, until retreating into the quiet solace of your loneliness and grief became the only thing you could manage.

And everyone in your agency was understanding of that. You haven’t truly taken a break in your entire career. And with that burn out, as much as the heartache, you had to have your time to yourself.

Little by little, you started to pick yourself up from the ruins of the failed relationship. Little by little you found yourself able to breathe again, even though you were still against the crashing waves of pain. At the very least there was some progress. At least you were getting somewhere.

Though, you couldn’t escape him. How could you, when he was so beloved by the world? Every corner of your world seemed to echo with the ghost of him. His face, smiling and confident, stared down at you from every billboard, a constant reminder of what you had lost years of your life to. Years you were the prettiest to yourself.

His voice filled the airwaves, every interview a cruel twist of fate, his laughter a haunting melody that played on repeat in your mind. Fushiguro Toji. His name was a bittersweet whisper, both a comfort and a curse, lingering in the recesses of your heart.

No one else knew that you had broken up. It was a secret you held close, it was a grief that belonged to you and only you. It was a wound too fresh and raw to expose to the world.

You hadn’t found the courage to say anything, convinced that speaking it aloud would make it all too real. Besides, you believed you didn’t have to explain yourself to anyone. Your pain was yours alone, a private storm that no one else could weather.

As you walked through the winding streets of Tokyo, the city lights blurred against your vision, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. The vibrant energy of the city felt distant, a stark contrast to the numbness that enveloped you. The world moved on, oblivious to the turmoil within you.

No one understood what you felt. No one probably ever would. It wasn’t just the loss of a relationship; it was the loss of a dream, a shared future that had unraveled before your eyes. The quiet moments, the laughter, the unspoken promises. They were all gone, leaving behind an emptiness that you didn’t know how to fill.

You kept walking, the sounds of the city fading into the background, your mind a whirlwind of memories and emotions. The ache in your chest was a constant reminder of what once was, and what could never be again. But even in the midst of the pain, you knew you couldn’t stay hidden forever. Life was waiting, and somehow, you had to find a way to live it again.

The door to your apartment closed behind you with a soft click, but the silence inside felt deafening. You slipped off your shoes and let your bag fall to the floor, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your shoulders. The familiar surroundings felt foreign now, as if the air itself had shifted, carrying the remnants of memories you weren’t ready to face.

You wandered through the small space, your eyes scanning the room aimlessly. You knew you should do something, anything to distract yourself. So you started cleaning, hoping the mundane task would occupy your mind. You wiped down the counters, straightened the cushions, and folded the laundry. But every movement felt mechanical, your thoughts drifting back to him.

Then you saw it—his jacket. Your mouth went agape at the sight of it. It hung innocuously by the door, just as it always had when he would visit your apartment. You didn’t know you still had it, from the move. You didn’t know the movers packed it too. He didn’t take it with him when he left the house.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. It was the same jacket he had worn countless times, the one that carried his scent, a mixture of cologne and something uniquely him. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers grazing the fabric.

The moment you touched it, the floodgates opened. The tears came fast and uncontrollable, pouring down your face as you clutched the jacket to your chest. You sank to the floor, the weight of your sorrow too much to bear.

The scent of him enveloped you, bringing back a rush of memories. His arms around you, his laugh, the way he would kiss your forehead when you were feeling down.

You cried for everything you had lost. For the love you had poured into a man who could never fully be yours. A man older, with a life that always seemed just out of reach. A man who cherished his independence, who was never truly tethered to you in the way you had hoped. You had given him your prettiest years, the best of yourself, only to be left with the pieces of a broken heart.

Tomorrow was the shoot, and you knew you had to pull yourself together. The contract was signed long before the breakup, back when you thought working together would be another way to share your dreams, your passions, your lives. Now, it was the weight pulling you into a reality you weren’t ready to face.

Tonight, the pain was too fresh, too overwhelming. How could you stop crying when every corner of your life was a reminder of him? When his presence still lingered in the smallest things, like a ghost haunting the spaces you once shared?

You stayed there, curled on the floor, clutching the jacket as the tears continued to fall. It wasn’t just about losing him. It was about losing the future you had imagined, the dreams you had built together.

And as the night stretched on, you let yourself grieve, knowing that somehow, you had to find the strength to face tomorrow. But for now, all you could do was cry.

══════════════════

MORNING ALWAYS DOES COME. And when it does, you try to make the effort to still stand on your own two toes. When the morning came, exhausted and numb, there you were facing the inevitable.

You bowed to everyone, greeting them with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. You smiled as though there was no problem at all. Chattered and sat there on the make–up chair like nothing had happened. As if there was nothing at all that shattered you to nothing.

The studio lights felt harsher than you remembered, their unforgiving brightness illuminating every inch of the set—and every crack in your heart. It was as if they knew, as if they were exposing the rawness inside you, the pain you had tried so hard to bury. The bustling crew moved around you, adjusting cameras, checking props, but their chatter seemed distant, muffled by the storm in your mind.

You couldn’t help but feel nervous, your hands trembling ever so slightly. It felt strange, almost surreal, like this was your first time stepping in front of the camera. You had done this a hundred times before, but today was different.

Today, you were a different person. The warmth of reassurance that once came from a simple touch, his hand brushing against yours, his quiet, steady presence—was gone. You were on your own now, and the weight of that reality pressed down on you like a heavy cloak.

You swallowed hard, the bile rising in your throat as the familiar sting of tears threatened to break free. Your muscles tensed, contorting as you fought the overwhelming urge to let go, to release the tears that had been building up inside you. But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. You couldn’t let yourself fall apart here, not now.

Not now, you repeat to yourself, a mantra you clung to with every ounce of strength you had left. You didn’t want it. You didn’t want the tears, the loneliness, the pain. You didn’t need it. You had told yourself this over and over again. You didn’t need to feel this, not here, not under the glaring scrutiny of the studio lights and the watchful eyes of everyone around you.

Your breaths came in shallow, shaky gulps as you forced yourself to focus, to channel everything into the character you were about to portray. The lines blurred between the role you played and the person you were, but you clung to that thin line of separation, hoping it would hold. This was your sanctuary, your escape. If you could just hold on a little longer, maybe the pain wouldn’t consume you.

You could do this, you told yourself.

You could survive this, you know you could.

It’s only for a few weeks of this misery.

But as you lifted your eyes, you saw him again.

And all that resolve dissolved almost instantly.

Fushiguro Toji stood across the room, talking to the director, his usual charm evident in the way his shoulders shook with laughter. The sound of it, rich and familiar, carried across the set, drawing the attention of those nearby. He looked relaxed, his posture loose, his smile easy. He seemed to be in happy spirits, more than the last time you saw him.

It was a sharp contrast to the last memory you had of him—tense, conflicted, the weight of your shared history etched into every line of his face. But now, he seemed lighter, as if the burden of your breakup had lifted from his shoulders. The sight of him like this stirred a mix of emotions within you. Jealousy, sadness, and an aching longing you tried to suppress.

You watched from a distance, your gaze lingering longer than you intended. It was painful, seeing him so carefree, as if nothing had changed, as if the past weeks hadn’t unraveled you both. But there he was, moving through the room with an ease that seemed effortless, while you struggled to keep your composure.

The director clapped him on the back, and Toji’s laugh echoed again, brighter this time. You quickly averted your eyes, pretending to busy yourself with your script, but the image of him remained imprinted in your mind. It was harder than you thought it would be, being in the same space, breathing the same air, while feeling worlds apart.

For a moment, you wondered if he had truly moved on, or if this was just a façade, a mask to hide whatever he might still be feeling. But you pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter. What mattered now was surviving this day, this scene, and the countless others that would follow. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable interaction. You had to face him eventually.

The director’s voice cut through the low hum of the studio, calling for everyone to take their places. “Alright, let’s get started! Everyone, introduce yourselves before we begin.”

You took a deep breath, forcing your shoulders to relax as you stepped forward with the rest of the cast. The weight of the moment pressed heavily on your chest, but you reminded yourself to stay calm, to keep it together.

Your eyes, however, betrayed you, flickering towards Toji for the briefest second before you snapped them away, focusing instead on a point somewhere beyond him. You were a professional. You had done this countless times before. You had been through worse—or so you told yourself. You could do this. You had to do this.

As the introductions began, your turn loomed closer. Each name and face passed by in a blur until the spotlight shifted to you. You bowed to each and every one, smiling at them as best you could even though you couldn’t process it all just yet.

“Hello, nice to meet you all!” you said, introducing yourself. Your voice is steady despite the storm within. “It’s great to be working with everyone.”

Your words were polite, professional, and utterly detached. At least you notice it. But the others didn’t seem to. You could see the blur in all their smiles towards you, shining in a way you couldn’t recognize. You barely registered the murmured responses of the others, your focus pinned on keeping your composure. Then it was Toji’s turn.

He stepped forward, his presence commanding as always. “Fushiguro Toji.” he said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. There was a familiar warmth in his tone, one that made your heart clench. “Looking forward to working with all of you.”

His blue–green eyes flicked to you, just for a moment, but it was enough to send a ripple of tension through your body. You held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than you intended, before quickly looking away, pretending to be engrossed in the script in your hands.

The director clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “Alright, let’s dive into it! Remember, the first scene is a heavy scene, so take your time and feel it out. Call for a cut any time you want to. So let’s start, like we rehearsed.”

You nodded at the director. Everyone moved to their places, and you found yourself standing just a few feet away from Toji. The air between you felt charged, the unspoken history hanging like a shadow over the set. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost cautious.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. “Yeah.” you murmured, your eyes fixed on the floor.

Toji hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but the director called for action, and just like that, you were thrust into the scene. The lines between fiction and reality blurred once again, and all you could do was hold on and hope you made it through without falling apart.

As the cameras rolled and the scene began, you pushed everything else aside, locking the pain away in a corner of your heart. The studio lights continued to shine, harsh and unrelenting, but you stood your ground. You didn’t need your tears. You didn’t need your loneliness. All you needed was to make it through this moment. And somehow, you would.

The first scene couldn’t have been more ironic if the universe had written it itself. A husband and wife, embroiled in a bitter argument, their marriage on the brink of collapse. Every word in the script seemed like a cruel reflection of your own reality. The dialogue cut too close, each line a dagger, the emotions too raw to ignore.

You had told yourself you could handle it, that you could compartmentalize the character’s turmoil from your own. But as the words spilled from your lips, it felt as if the character had seized control of your body, dragging all your buried feelings to the surface, laying them bare for everyone to see.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” you shouted, your voice cracking with the weight of suppressed emotion. The accusation wasn’t just a line; it was a scream from your heart. “You’re always so wrapped up in your own world! What about us? What about me?”

The tears that pricked your eyes weren’t from the script. They were your own, threatening to fall, the pain of the breakup echoing in every syllable. Across from you, Toji’s eyes darkened, his expression hardening as he stepped into his character. His voice, sharp and filled with a familiar bitterness, mirrored your own anguish.

“Don’t act like I’m the only one who made mistakes!” he shot back, his tone rising, the frustration palpable. “You think it’s easy, carrying the weight of everything? Maybe if you tried to understand instead of blame—”

“Understand?” you interrupted, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. The sting in your eyes blurred your vision, but you pressed on. “I’ve tried! I’ve given everything, and it’s never enough for you!”

The room felt electric, the tension between you both so thick it was as if the air itself might shatter under the weight of it. Each word hung in the air, resonating with a truth neither of you could ignore.

The director’s voice called out, “Cut! Let’s take a moment.”

The tension didn’t dissipate with the end of the scene. It lingered, heavy and suffocating, as if the raw emotions couldn’t be contained by the simple call for a break. You stood there, your chest heaving with the effort of keeping your tears at bay, your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

Toji remained across from you, his jaw tight, his eyes still locked onto yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, as if frozen in the aftermath of the words that had been exchanged—not just between the characters, but between the two of you.

You stood frozen, your chest heaving as the emotions coursed through you. Toji turned to face you, his expression unreadable. You saw him take a step toward you, and panic clawed at your chest, but you forced yourself to stay put. Running away wouldn’t solve anything. You had to face this, face him.

“Hey.” Toji said softly, his voice gentler than it had been during the scene. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, nodding even though your body betrayed you with a slight tremble. “Yeah. Just… caught me off guard, that’s all.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge how much of the scene was acting and how much was real. “It felt real.” he admitted, his tone cautious. “Too real.”

“Yeah.” You murmured, not looking at him. You didn’t want to. You didn’t know if you were prepared to just yet.

The tension between you and Toji was palpable, thick like fog, clouding every inch of the set. You stood there, heart pounding, as the reality of the situation settled deeper into your bones. This was not just a fleeting moment; this was going to be every day, side by side, pretending like everything was fine when it was far from it.

Toji shifted on his feet, his usual confidence seemingly faltering as he took in your guarded expression. “I didn’t think you’d come today.” he admitted, his voice lower, more vulnerable than you remembered. “Thought you’d call in sick.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. I have a job to do.” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Besides….you showed up too.”

Silence befell the two of you after those words. You started fidgeting with your fingers, something you would do when you were nervous. As you feel your throat closed up, you purse your lips into a flat line. You thought it was time to walk away, to take your time away from him before the next take.

Finally, Toji broke the silence, stepping closer, his voice lower but no less intense. “It was just acting.” he said, his tone softer, almost vulnerable. “I’m sorry for my tone.”

You swallowed hard, your throat constricting. “So was I.” You whispered, your voice barely audible.

The tears you had been holding back now threatened to spill over, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him. Toji’s gaze grew softer as he looked at you, the anger from the take earlier melting into something more akin to sorrow. Something you think you were more familiar with.

“I didn’t want things to end that way.” He admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Can we not talk about it—”

“But I want to.” He tells you in his retort, abruptly cutting you off. “I need to. I want to fix everything.”

“You can’t fix everything. You should know that.” you replied, your words trembling as they left your lips. “I don’t know if I can ever forget that.”

He nodded slowly, his expression one of deep regret. “I know.”

Silence grew once more between the two of you.

You could feel the tears pricking your eyes harshly.

And you could tell that he was noticing as much as you.

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again. “I’m glad you’re here….at least.” he said quietly, sincerity lacing his words. “I know it’s hard, but maybe… maybe we can find a way to make this work.”

You almost laughed, the irony of it all hitting you. “Make this work?” you repeated, your voice tinged with disbelief. “You mean like how we were supposed to make us work?”

Toji winced, the pain in your words cutting through him. “I didn’t mean it like that, you know that.” he said softly. “Look, I….I know I hurt you. I know things didn’t go the way we wanted. But this project… it’s important to both of us. Can we at least try to be civil? For the sake of the work?”

You bit your lip, torn between the urge to lash out and the need to maintain some semblance of professionalism. “Civil.” you echoed, testing the word on your tongue. “I guess we can try.”

He offered a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you.”

A tense silence settled again before he spoke once more. “Look, I don’t want to make things harder than they already are. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. Just... don’t shut me out completely.”

Your heart ached at his words, but you forced yourself to stay composed. “Space would be good.” you agreed, your voice firmer now. “Let’s just focus on the work. That’s all we need to do.”

Toji nodded, accepting your terms. “Okay. Work it is.”

The director called for everyone to reset for the next take, but the two of you remained locked in place, the world around you fading into the background. It was a moment of unspoken understanding, a shared pain that neither of you could fully articulate. As the crew moved around you, preparing for the next shot, Toji took a step back, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer.

“Let’s get through this.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that spoke of more than just the scene ahead. “We owe it to ourselves.”

You nodded, unable to speak, and turned away. Your assistant handed you the script once again and you found yourself trying to focus on the script in your hands. The show had to go on, but the lines between fiction and reality had never felt so blurred.

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, a mix of relief and sorrow washing over you. This was your new reality. It probably always will, when people like your chemistry together.

You are going to be stuck working side by side with the man who broke your heart. But as you watched him go, you realized something: you weren’t the same person you were before. You had been broken, yes, but you were also stronger now.

You knew that. And maybe, just maybe, that strength would see you through this. You took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders. The day had only just begun. But you were praying that he doesn’t look at you with that look in his eyes again.

══════════════════

DAYS ON SET BECAME A NEW STANDARD OF LIVING. You haven’t been sure you were used to it yet after a long time away, but you were sure about to get there. At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

As the days turned into weeks, the rhythm of the shoot became oddly familiar. Early morning calls, practice for heavy scenes, dress rehearsal, the chaos of set preparation, and the god awful long night to morning shoots.

This was the relentless cycle of takes transformed into your new daily standard routine. You and Toji fell into an unspoken pattern between the two of you, though. But you had to be, if you wanted to keep your jobs. It was a strange thing to witness, if one was being honest. It took a lot of effort to memorize the dance. And every bit of that was equal parts effortless and exhausting.

On the surface, you were professionals—co-workers delivering lines, executing roles, keeping up appearances. Especially him, he was your senpai too. He was good at maintaining that mask on him more than you were.

But beneath the polished veneer, tension simmered, weaving itself into every glance, every exchange, every shared silence. You could tell just by looking at his eyes. No one else but you could do that, after all.

The studio became your shared battlefield, its walls echoing with unspoken words. You threw yourself into the work, burying raw emotions beneath layers of performance day after day.

But when the director yelled for the cut, you knew that the veil dropped most instantaneously. And that always leaves you vulnerable to the presence of the man who had once been your everything.

Fushiguro Toji was close enough to touch yet felt a world away from you. And you were certain that he felt the same way about you too. After all, you had a wall he couldn’t reach. You wouldn’t let him reach it. There was no way for him to know what to do with you.

But this doesn’t stop you from looking. Nor did it stop him from doing the same thing. You had noticed everything about him and what he does. It was obvious how hard it is to be exes on set. It was even harder when you were soulmates.

There was the slight hesitation in his laugh, the way his smile sometimes faltered at the edges. He was both familiar and foreign, a stranger wearing a face you had loved. Everything about him was something you knew and everything about him was something that was a mystery. It was a really intriguing thing. And that was the worst thing of all. You were intrigued about the man you loved and hated all at once.

Conversations were sparse at first, clinical and focused on the work. You both clung to professionalism like a lifeline, avoiding anything that might hint at the depth of your shared history. The lines were clear: scenes, blocking, timing, delivery. Anything beyond that was dangerous territory.

You were determined to keep things professional, to relegate your relationship to the sterile confines of work. But no matter how hard you tried, the walls you’d built between yourselves began to splinter under the weight of the unspoken.

The first crack came during a late-night shoot. The two of you stood under the harsh glow of the heavy set lights, running through lines while the crew adjusted the framing. Toji, leaning casually against a prop table, smirked at a mistake you made while stumbling over a particularly convoluted line.

“That’s the third time now.” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. There was a teasing edge to it, but it was softer than you remembered.

You shot him a sharp look. “Thanks for keeping count.” you replied, your tone clipped, though your lips twitched against your will.

His smirk widened, but there was no malice in it, just a faint warmth. “You’re welcome. I thought I’d help out since you seem… preoccupied.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing him off. “Preoccupied with carrying this scene, maybe.”

The banter was fleeting, but it lingered in the air long after the cameras rolled again. Once again, you did the best you could and continued to bring your spirits up. As the night progressed, the director started to feel a little bit more satisfied with one or two shots. And that had at least allowed you the hope of going to sleep soon.

Later, during one of the scene changes, you caught him watching you as you adjusted your new costume. He didn’t look away quickly enough, and your eyes met. For a moment, the distance between you felt less insurmountable, the years of hurt and silence shrinking into the space of a single glance. That glance was the longest moment of your life, you were sure.

“What?” you asked, a touch defensive, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, as if debating whether to respond, then shrugged. “Nothing. You just… remind me of something.”

You wanted to press him, to ask what he meant, but the vulnerability in his expression stopped you. His eyes, usually so guarded, were uncharacteristically soft, as if he was on the verge of saying something he couldn’t quite bring himself to voice.

Instead of pushing, you turned back to the mirror, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered, tracing the reflection of your face as though searching for something. It was recognition, understanding, forgiveness.

But then you caught yourself. The silence was becoming unbearable, the air between you thick with things neither of you dared to say. You cleared your throat, the sound breaking the tension like a sharp crack in the stillness.

“We should start rehearsing.” you said, your voice steady, though your heart was racing. “For the scene.”

For a moment, Toji didn’t respond. He seemed to weigh your words, as though deciding whether to challenge the sudden shift or let it go. Finally, he tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in quiet disbelief.

“...Are you comfortable doing that with me?” he asked, his tone careful, hesitant. It wasn’t the confident Toji you remembered, the one who always seemed so sure of himself, even when everything around him was chaotic. This was different—softer, almost unsure.

You hesitated, the question throwing you off balance. There was a part of you that wanted to lash out, to let him know how much his presence still affected you, how rehearsing with him wasn’t just work. But you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to focus on the here and now.

“Yeah, why not?” you replied, shrugging as though it didn’t matter. Your tone was light, almost dismissive, but the tension in your voice betrayed you.

Toji’s lips twitched, not quite a smile but not entirely neutral either. “Why not, huh….” he echoed softly, more to himself than to you. He took a step closer, crossing into your personal space but stopping just short of overstepping.

“Okay.” he said finally, his voice steady now, though his eyes still carried that flicker of something unresolved. “Let’s rehearse.”

You nodded, turning away from the mirror and moving toward the small table where the script sat. You busied yourself with flipping through the pages, anything to avoid looking at him directly. But you knew, you could feel it — he was looking at you and only you.

As you both settled into the familiar rhythm of line-reading, the tension between you didn’t fade entirely, but it softened, shaped by the shared focus on the work. There were moments, brief but poignant, where you caught glimpses of the man you had once known in the way he delivered a line or the way he watched you deliver yours.

Yet you knew when you said these things, you knew it would be bad. You knew they would hit too close to home, too personal. And that was what happened. When the two of you were finally shooting the emotional scene, it was more real than your practice and perhaps, that’s what fueled your acting.

The dialogue was heavy, charged with the kind of raw emotion that mirrored your real-life tension a little too closely. It was a confrontation scene this time around—a breaking point between two lovers teetering on the edge of collapse. As you delivered the lines you had practiced, the words felt too personal, too sharp, cutting into wounds that hadn’t fully healed. And you hated it.

“That’s all you ever do, isn’t it?” your character accused, the anger in your voice reverberating through the silent set. “You push people away the second they get too close. You think it’s easier to walk away than to face what you’ve done.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel every pair of eyes in the room on you, the weight of the moment pressing down like a vice. But your focus was on Toji.

He stood across from you, his character’s guilt written across his face, but there was something else there—something unspoken that made your chest tighten. Somehow, it was his real face. Somehow, it was his truest blossom of regret.

The director called for a break, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. The crew scattered, murmuring amongst themselves, but the energy in the room remained electric, charged with the kind of intensity that couldn’t simply be switched off.

You turned away quickly, grabbing a water bottle from the craft table. Your hands were trembling slightly, your pulse still racing. You focused on the coolness of the bottle against your skin, anything to ground yourself, to pull you out of the emotional spiral the scene had sent you into.

“You okay?” Toji’s voice came from behind you, quiet but insistent.

You stiffened, refusing to turn around. “I’m fine. Just… in the scene.”

“Right.” he said, but there was a note of skepticism in his voice. “You sure that’s all it is?”

Something in his tone made you snap. You spun around to face him, your eyes blazing. “Why? Do you think I’m talking about you?”

Toji’s jaw tightened, his posture rigid. For a moment, his mask of calm slipped, and the vulnerability beneath it was laid bare. “I don’t know.” he said, his voice low and even. “Are you?”

The question hung between you, the weight of it almost unbearable. His gaze locked onto yours, unflinching, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you standing there, raw and exposed.

“What if I was?” you shot back, your voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “Would it even matter?”

His lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, neither of you willing to back down, yet both too afraid to fully engage. Before either of you could break the impasse, a crew member approached, clipboard in hand.

“We’re resetting for the next take.” they announced, oblivious to the charged atmosphere. “Five minutes.”

You tore your gaze away from Toji, nodding curtly at the crew member and quietly thanked them before turning on your heel and walking away. Your footsteps echoed in the cavernous studio, each one feeling heavier than the last.

As you retreated to the corner of the set, you could feel Toji’s eyes on you, his presence lingering like a ghost. Even as the crew busied themselves with preparations and the director barked instructions, the tension between you remained, an invisible thread pulling tauter with every passing moment.

You leaned against a prop, exhaling shakily, trying to center yourself. The scene was over, but the emotions it had stirred up were still thrumming through your veins. And as much as you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you knew this wasn’t just about the script. This was about the two of you—about all the things you’d left unsaid and all the wounds that still refused to heal.

══════════════════

YOU HADN’T READ THE NEXT PART OF THE SCRIPT YET. You had been too emotionally exhausted about what you had been doing for work that you had put off reading the script. Which was fine, you were able to memorize things easily when you see it long enough. That’s why you have this sort of career in the first place.

So the next morning, you arrived on set early with your manager. You greeted everyone as you were clutching your script tightly in your hands. Your manager quickly greeted everyone and went to you, before telling you that he’ll get you both coffee from the coffee truck. You nodded at her, telling her that you’ll just be sitting on the trailer.

It had become a habit, one you told yourself was about preparation — ‘it will work out’; but deep down you knew it was also a way to mentally brace yourself for whatever the day might bring. You have told yourself that phrase for years now, but perhaps, it didn’t hit as hard as it has now. Much more because you were working with the man you were in a relationship with for quite a lot of years.

Working with Fushiguro Toji was a constant balancing act, teetering on the edge of professionalism and the unresolved tension that hung between you like a storm cloud storming away with its raging thunder and its hurling battering rains. That was just what it was, when you were working with someone you still had unresolved issues with.

You settled into your usual corner, flipping through the script for the day’s scenes. You moved to take the pen from your bag, and started highlighting things you wanted to work on and things you wanted to ask for feedback from the director. As you skimmed the pages, your eyes caught on a block of stage directions that made your stomach drop. A part you hadn’t seen just yet.

Hiruka steps closer to Suzaku, their faces just barely inches apart. The tension between them is palpable, one that pushes them together like gravity and after a beat, they kiss.

Your mouth went agape at what you had just read. This was not what you expected. You clutched your heart, feeling how it skipped a beat. For a moment, you just stared at the words, as if doing so would somehow make them disappear. But they didn’t. The scene was there, in black and white, unavoidable.

"Everything okay?" a voice broke through your thoughts. One of the assistant directors, passing by with a clipboard, glanced at you with mild concern.

You forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah. Just going over the script.”

She nodded, already distracted by another crew member waving her down, and you exhaled slowly, your mind racing. You haven't kissed Toji since… well, since before everything had fallen apart.

The idea of doing it now, even in character, felt like reopening a wound you’d barely managed to scab over. Even though it had been six, seven months since the breakup, the thought still wasn’t something you had gotten used to. The memories of what had been lingered like a ghost, haunting the edges of your mind whenever you let your guard down.

But then again, no one knew you were dating. To everyone else, you were just friends. Friends and co-workers. That was the story they had always known, the one you had carefully curated and protected. It wasn’t their fault—they didn’t see the quiet moments shared off-set, the way his hand used to linger on yours, the stolen kisses behind closed doors, the whispered promises of something that had felt so certain at the time.

You… you weren’t ready to tell anyone. The idea of opening up that part of your life to the world had felt too vulnerable, too risky. So you had kept it quiet, only sharing the truth with a handful of people you trusted—close friends who had sworn to keep your secret. Back then, it had felt like the right choice, like something sacred and yours to guard.

Now, though, it felt like a double-edged sword. No one on set knew about the history between you and Toji, which meant no one understood how charged this scene truly was. They didn’t know how much it would take to get through it without letting the weight of the past seep into every glance, every word, every touch. To them, it was just another part of the job.

But to you? To you, it was a reckoning.

You rubbed your temples, trying to shake the thought away, but it clung to you stubbornly. You were here to work, to act, to tell a story. You had gotten through every other scene with Toji, no matter how tense or emotionally taxing it had been. You could get through this one too.

Couldn’t you?

Your internal spiral was interrupted when Fushiguro Toji walked onto the set, his usual calm demeanor in place. He spotted you almost immediately and gave a slight nod in greeting, but his expression shifted when he noticed the look on your face.

“Something wrong?” he asked as he approached, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You hesitated, holding up the script instead of answering. “Have you read today’s scenes?”

He frowned slightly, taking the script from your hand and flipping through it. You watched his blue–green eyes scan the page one after another, his expression shifting from neutral to surprised and then to something you couldn’t quite place.

“Oh.” he said simply, his voice unreadable.

“Yeah.” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh.”

Toji closed the script, handing it back to you. “Well….” he began, his tone measured. “It’s part of the job, right?”

His casual response made your irritation flare. “Don’t act like this is nothing.” you shot back, keeping your voice low but firm. “You know it’s not. Not with us.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying it’s nothing. I’m saying we’ve done this before. We’re professionals for a reason. We’ll handle it.”

The word professionals felt like a jab, as if he was reminding you that whatever was between you didn’t matter anymore. You opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself, biting back the words. Instead, you took a step back, putting more space between you.

“I just... wasn’t expecting it.” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I guess I should do more reading on the script before I say yes. But then again, we were together before this. I would have thought differently if we were….”

You stopped yourself from saying anything. You sighed as you took the script back from him, not looking at him. You fumble through the script once again, stopping at where you were reading earlier. For a moment, Toji didn’t respond. He simply watched you, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded.

“Neither was I. But maybe it’s a good thing.”

You frowned. “How could this possibly be a good thing?”

“Because….” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “If we can get through this, we can get through anything else this job throws at us.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond to him whatsoever. There was a sincerity in his tone that caught you off guard, a reminder of the man you used to know, a man you once loved—the one who could somehow say the exact thing you needed to hear, even when you didn’t want to hear it.

“Let’s just get it over with.” you muttered finally, turning away to avoid meeting his gaze. You hoped the words would end the conversation, but Toji, ever persistent, wasn’t ready to let it drop. “As soon as possible.”

“Are we going to rehearse—”

“We are not going to rehearse kissing.” you interrupted sharply, spinning back toward him with a pointed glare before he could finish the thought.

He blinked, momentarily startled by your tone, then raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay. No rehearsing. he said, his voice calm but edged with a hint of amusement. “I wasn’t going to push it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still skeptical. “I mean it. We know how to kiss for work. It’s technical, not personal. We’ll hit our marks, make it look convincing, and that’s it.”

“Got it.” he replied, his tone unreadable. But the faint twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth betrayed him, and it made your chest tighten with a mix of irritation and something far more complicated.

“I’m serious, Toji.” you added, folding your arms across your chest. “This doesn’t have to be a thing. Let’s just focus on the scene and move on.”

He tilted his head, his gaze softening just slightly. “I know. I’m not trying to make it a thing, I promise.” he said quietly. “But it’s not like we can pretend it doesn’t feel... different.”

You froze, his words hitting you harder than you expected. Different. Of course, it felt different. How could it not? You had kissed him before, really kissed him. Many countless times in another life, when things had been simpler, when you weren’t standing on opposite sides of an invisible wall you’d both helped build.

But you couldn’t let yourself dwell on that now. Shaking your head, you turned back toward the set. “It doesn’t matter.” you said, more to yourself than to him. “It’s just a scene, Toji. That’s all it is.”

You didn’t wait for his response as you walked away, but you felt the weight of his gaze on your back, heavy and lingering. And as much as you tried to push it down, you couldn’t shake the sense that, for Toji, it might not be just a scene after all. You looked for your manager.

You needed to get that coffee from her as soon as possible.

And perhaps, a donut. You need enough sugar to get through the day.

And so you let hours pass by, trying to get the idea of the kiss off your mind. You were not going to think about it until you had to. That’s what you tell yourself. But you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

How will it happen? How will you end up lasting with how he would touch you? How could you keep this professional? You shook your head. You hated how much you were getting too into this.

When you finally make it off to set once again, you find yourself overwhelmed already. After going through the worst of thoughts while on the makeup chair, you couldn’t help but feel even worse here.

The set was quiet as the crew adjusted the lights and cameras for the upcoming scene. You stood off to the side, arms crossed, your script clutched tightly in one hand. The weight of what was about to happen pressed on you like a physical force, making it hard to breathe.

Toji was across the room, leaning casually against a prop table as the makeup artist gave him a last touch-up. He looked calm. Too calm, like this was just another day, another scene. Like there was nothing to freak out about. It irritated you. How could he be so composed when every nerve in your body felt like it was on edge?

Soon enough, the director called for everyone to take their places. You moved to your mark, heart pounding. Fushiguro Toji approached, his steps measured, his expression unreadable. The tension between you thickened as the cameras rolled into position, and the director gave the signal to begin.

The scene started smoothly enough. The dialogue flowed naturally, your voices blending together in a rhythm you had mastered over weeks of working together. But as the emotional intensity of the scene built, you felt the lines between acting and reality begin to blur.

“That’s all you ever do, isn’t it?” you said, your voice trembling with both your character’s anger and something far more personal. “You push people away the second they get too close. You think it’s easier to walk away than to face what you’ve done.”

Toji stepped closer, his character’s frustration mirroring something unspoken in his own eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” he shot back, his voice low, dangerous. “You don’t know what it’s like to carry this kind of weight.”

“I don’t know?” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know, because I was there. I was always there.”

The director hadn’t called the cut, so you kept going, even though your hands were trembling and your breath was coming faster than it should have been. Toji’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might break character. But then he stepped even closer, closing the gap between you.

And then it happened as naturally as breathing —the kiss.

It started the way it was supposed to, his hands lightly brushing against your arms as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours with the perfect mix of tension and tenderness. But as the seconds ticked by, something shifted. The scene was supposed to end with a brief, restrained kiss. I twas just enough to convey the characters’ unresolved feelings. But Toji didn’t pull back, and neither did you.

Instead, the kiss deepened even more, the intensity between you igniting like a spark meeting gasoline. Fire blossoming in the spark of that gasoline, over and over as you both push and pull.

His hand moved to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in a way that felt far too familiar, far too real. Your hands, which were meant to stay at your sides, found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if you were anchoring yourself to him.

The room around you faded from your reality. The set, the cameras, the crew—it all disappeared as the kiss pulled you under, dredging up emotions you thought you’d buried. Pain, longing, regret. All of it crashed over you in an overwhelming wave, pushing and pulling you towards him.

“Cut!” the director finally called, his voice sharp enough to break through the haze.

You and Toji finally let loose and separated abruptly, both of you breathing hard. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the equipment and the muffled sounds of crew members shuffling around. No one said anything, but the charged atmosphere was impossible to ignore.

The director, who had been watching the monitors intently, clapped his hands together. “That was… intense.” he said, nodding approvingly. “Let’s reset and do one more take.”

You couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze, least of all Toji’s, as you stepped back to your mark. Your lips still tingled, and your heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of your chest. As the crew moved around you, resetting for the next take,

Toji leaned in close, his voice low so only you could hear. “You okay?”

You nodded stiffly, refusing to look at him. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t. And as you prepared to shoot the scene again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever had just happened wasn’t just acting—it was something far more dangerous. Many things were pushing through your mind over and over again. Things you shouldn’t think about. People you shouldn’t think about.

You touch your lips, before stopping and closing your eyes to take a breath. Toji was still looking at you, as though trying to make sure you were alright. But you couldn’t be coherent, you couldn’t think straight. Not when his lips tasted like forbidden fruit, from paradise, from heaven.

The moment the director called for another take, you felt your chest constrict. You couldn’t do it again—not right away, not with how raw everything felt. Your hands were trembling, your head spinning, and your heart still hadn’t slowed from the intensity of the scene—or the kiss.

“I need a break, director.” you muttered, barely audible, before turning and walking off set without waiting for a response. “Please….I…”

You started to move before you could register it. You ignored the crew members and assistants milling about, their curious glances following you as you navigated through the maze of equipment and props.

You didn’t stop until you found a quiet corner near the back of the lot, where the noise of the set faded into a distant hum. Leaning against a wall, you exhaled shakily, pressing your hands against your temples as you tried to steady yourself.

You didn’t hear him approach, but you felt his presence before he spoke.

“Hey.” Toji’s voice was soft but steady, cutting through the silence.

You stiffened, not turning around. “I just need a minute.”

“I know that.” he replied, his tone careful, as though he were trying not to spook you. “I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You scoffed, your laugh bitter and hollow. “Why do you care if I’m okay?”

His footsteps grew closer until he was standing just a few feet away. “Because I do.” he said simply. “I always have. You know that.”

You spun around to face him, your frustration bubbling over. “You don’t get to do that, Toji. You don’t get to pretend like everything’s fine, like you care, after everything—”

“I’m not pretending!” he interrupted, his voice rising just enough to cut you off. His jaw was tight, his expression pained. “You think this is easy for me? You think I wanted any of this to happen?”

“You walked away, Toji.” you shot back, your voice shaking. “You made your choice. And now you’re acting like—like—”

“Like what?” he challenged, stepping closer. “Like I regret it? Because I do. I regret everything, alright? But I can’t change the past. I can’t undo what I did. All I can do is try to…” He trailed off, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Try to do what?” you demanded, your own anger simmering beneath the surface. “Make yourself feel better? Redeem yourself? Because that’s not how it works, Toji. You don’t just get to show up and act like we can fix this with one stupid kiss!”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” he said, his voice softening, though the intensity in his eyes didn’t waver. “I just… I miss you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to look away from him, but you can’t. How could you, when he was looking at you like that? Like he still sees you to be the only one for him. Like he still loves you most in this world.

“Toji…” you started, but your voice cracked, and you couldn’t finish the sentence.

His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, his expression torn. “Tell me to stop.” he murmured, taking another step forward. “If you don’t want this, just say the word, and I’ll walk away.”

You wanted to say it. No, you wanted to scream at him. You wanted to push him away and shove him and be angry with him, to tell him that you were done, that the past was the past and there was no going back. That you do not love him anymore. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, when he closed the distance between you, cupping your face with his hands, you didn’t pull away. His lips found yours, and the kiss was nothing like the one on set. It was desperate and unguarded, filled with all the things neither of you had been able to say.

Your hands clung to the fabric of his shirt, almost as if you needed the physical contact to ground yourself. The kiss deepened as your body pressed against his, the tension between you both crackling in the space that had once been filled with affection and now was choked with pain and unresolved emotion. His lips were insistent, hungry in a way that told you just how long he had been holding this back. The rawness of it, the desperation, sent a shiver down your spine.

His hands moved to the back of your neck, his fingers curling into your hair as if he were afraid you’d slip away again. When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, both of you stood there, forehead to forehead, your breaths heavy and unsteady. The world around you was a distant blur, and all that mattered was the way his chest rose and fell against yours.

The silence was suffocating, yet neither of you moved to speak. You couldn’t find the words, couldn’t find the strength to pull away from him again. He, too, seemed frozen in the moment, as if this brief touch of something real had left him equally shaken. But then, before you could fully collect yourself, he pulled you even closer. His body heat, his scent, enveloping you in the tight space between you.

Your eyes met once more. This time, there was no confusion, no uncertainty. The vulnerability in his gaze mirrored your own, and for just a heartbeat, you both let the walls crumble just enough to see each other for what you were—people who had been broken, but still searching for something to hold on to.

And then, his lips were on yours again, more forceful this time, as though he couldn’t hold back any longer, as though the weight of everything between you was too much to bear in silence. You didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

The emotions inside you were tangled, each one vying for dominance. Hurt, longing, anger, and something deeper. A desperate need to feel something other than the emptiness that had been haunting you both for months.

His hands slid lower, tracing the line of your back, and you gasped against his mouth as your body pressed into his more firmly. It felt dangerous, reckless, but in that moment, you didn’t care. There was something that felt like freedom in this chaotic, emotional storm that you both had been trying so hard to avoid.

But it wasn’t just about the kiss. It was about everything that led to this point. The unfinished conversations, the words you both kept swallowing, the feelings you couldn’t express. His lips softened against yours for just a moment before he pulled back slightly, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t know how to fix this.” he murmured, his voice rough, laden with frustration. "But I need you to know... I never stopped caring."

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat ringing in your ears. You swallowed hard, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. "Then why did you leave?" you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady.

His eyes darkened, his face tightening with regret. “Because I was scared,” he said, the words slow, deliberate. “I thought I could push it all down, but it just… it just made everything worse.”

You could feel his hands trembling against your back, his words raw with honesty. And for a moment, you let the weight of that honesty sink in.

“I don’t know what this is,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you fought the lump in your throat. “But I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

Toji’s thumb brushed over your cheek, and you could feel the conflict in him—he wanted to comfort you, to make things right, but you both knew there were no easy fixes, no simple words that could undo the damage done.

“I know,” he said softly, his voice full of sorrow. “I know, but I’ll be here. I’ll be here until you decide if you want to give me a chance to make it right.”

Your eyes fluttered closed as you rested your forehead against his, the exhaustion of the emotional rollercoaster threatening to overtake you. You weren’t sure what this meant, what the future held, but in that moment, you allowed yourself to feel it.

The rawness, the tension, the connection. The kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was a fragile promise, a silent acknowledgment that, despite everything, there was still something worth fighting for between you.

But you both knew that this wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning of something uncertain, something that would require more than a kiss to fix. But for now, you didn’t need answers. You just needed this. This seesaw game.

The more you were on this seesaw, the more you got to him. The more he’s here with you, locked in this cage of your own toxic desires. His touch, his presence, and the understanding that, for the first time in a long while, maybe you weren’t as alone as you thought.

“This doesn’t change anything.” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

“I know.” he said softly. “But it doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.”

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the rush of emotions flooding through you, but it was no use. Whatever had just happened, whatever this was. It wasn’t over. And you weren’t sure if that terrified you or gave you hope. Because it means you were no better. Your resolve crumbled so easily. How could you, when it was him?

“We have to go back to the set.” You whispered to him.

“Let them wait.” He whispers back to you, his breath hot against you.

That’s how you ended up back in his trailer, under him just like you had been six months ago. You had all but abandoned everything outside the door. From your mic packs left on that corner wall a few meters away, to the costume clothes left on the fridges of the trailer door.

Your lips echoed loud moaning ripples that could embarrass you had you cared enough for it at that moment. But you didn’t. All you cared about was the pleasure of being underneath him, being choked by his figure pressed against you as you squirm over and over again with the breath you didn’t have against his firm grasp.

All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to where the sweat and the drool mixed onto you over and over again. With every tug to pull him closer, you found yourself being pummeled with his member deeper over and over again — taking away the dry spell that had kept your resolve for the past six months.

You could feel him burn you inside, searing you whole with the sheer size of him, taking over every inch of your crevices as though it belonged there. As though all of you were made for all of him.

You couldn’t help but release another moan, feeling your insides close against him, as your inner thighs quivered against the side of his waist repeatedly. The force of his thrusts were so strong that you were sure the bed was going to break.

His fingerprints were being engraved against your thighs with the way he pushes against your flesh, keeping you intertwined in this vicious downfall with him. Toji couldn’t help but laugh as he pressed closer against your body, the build of his cock sliding through your tummy and he could feel it. He felt proud of it. No one knew how to make you feel this electrifying feeling of being alive the way he could. No one else. And you knew that too well.

Calluses started to form on your reddening skin, pelted with golden sweat as he pulled in and out of you with the speed of a thunderstrike. One moment he’s into the point you could feel him down your throat choking and the next, it felt like you were freed from the vestiges of being full of everything heavy, only to feel so empty that you long for him to choke you whole with his cock.

And he does. Repeatedly. Over and over again, until you are on the verge of tears you know you shed because of the pleasure you succumb to, to your shame. To your love, to your desires. To him. No, for him.

Because you knew, no one else can love you like this. No one else can make a mess of you like this. No one else can make you feel so whole and broken all at once that it breaks you into many pieces.

You found yourself clawing at his back, successive moans with your breaking tone sounding like music to his ears. He hums in acceptance of the pain, trying to keep his composure as your nails bring blood streaming down his back. You move slowly to bite his shoulder, deep and whole and raw. You find him grunting slowly at the pain of it. You dug so deep that you knew you also drew blood there too.

You find him accepting it knowing that this is your love. This is the love that you have for him. And it will never change anymore. You wanted to love him and love him to the point he hurts. You want him to hurt. You want him to cry. You want him to bleed. Because how dare he make love to you, knowing you didn’t want to be hurt by loving him?

“I hate you.” You cry to him, his blood metallic in your tongue. You cry again, in between your incoherent moans. “I hate you more than anything in the world.”

“I love you.” He whispers to you over and over again, digging deeper into you that he has carved a home in you. “I love you. More than anything. More than life itself.”

You cry at his words. Because you knew they were true. You knew that he does love you. And yet you don’t want to be with him. You don’t want to let him back in. But he is here, with you. He is you, in you. He was everything that encompasses you. He was your first love. He was your first everything. And you can’t take it back. You can’t unlove him, even for your own good. Not even if the heavens wanted you to.

Toji couldn’t help but snarl as he pushes deeper and deeper, his sound animalistic and raw. He was close. You know this too well, once he stops talking. He devotes himself to the task. He pushes through over and over, the beckoning of his thrusts growing more erratic as he nears his peak.

But you knew him too well. He never comes inside of you without making sure you get your fill first. His long fingers reach down to where you're joined, finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles that send jolts of electricity shooting up your spine.

“T–toji!” You cry out loud, arching deeper into his touch as the pleasure coiling on your belly echoing over and over. You could feel his fingers work you perfectly, expertly as he pushes through over and over as he pushes his masterful fingers and his thrusting hips. “I….I’m….I’m close!”

"That's it, baby. Come for me too." he coaxes, his voice a low rasp in your ear. "Let me feel this pretty pussy squeeze the cum out of me."

He only gets this way when he finds himself close, his words disappearing into the reality of pleasure with you. You push against him, throwing your head back against the pillows. You shatter with a keening moan, your walls clamping down around Toji’s shaft as ecstasy crashes over you in waves.

He follows moments later with a guttural groan, pumping you full of his hot seed. You were shaking as you cling to him tightly, mewling softly against his shoulder blades. You could feel his body heavier against you as you both rode out the aftershocks, still gasping and twitching with the intensity of your shared climax.

As the fog of passion clears, you slowly come back to yourself, awareness returning in increments. You purse your lips as he presses kisses against your neck and then your jaw and then your cheeks. The warmth of his seed seeping off you as your hands loosen their hold on his body.

“We can’t do this again.” You whisper to him exhaustedly.

“I know.” He whispers back to you, his eyes shot with the look of love. Or was it lust? You could not tell. “I know.”

But you knew you were both lying to yourselves.

He was going to come back again and again.

And you would let him in, just as you had now.

══════════════════

YOU HAD SAID YOU DIDN’T WANT TO PARTICIPATE IN ANY PRESS TOURS. It had taken a while before you had even budged to the demands of the director. But you knew that you couldn’t admit that to be a resolve without the act. All Toji had to do was ask you, in his own way and you knew you would say yes. And you hated that it was the case.

As the lights of the red carpet flickered around you, you smiled, the cameras flashing as you and Fushiguro Toji posed side by side. His presence, tall and imposing, was the perfect foil to your poised elegance, but inside, you felt something altogether different. It was truly a quiet storm of conflicting emotions that you could barely contain.

The interviewer, enthusiastic and bright-eyed, approached you both with a microphone. “You two are the talk of the town! After months of speculation, you’ve finally confirmed your relationship with that press announcement. How does it feel to have it all out in the open?”

You met the interviewer’s gaze, your smile steady, though you could feel the weight of the question pressing against your chest. You exchanged a brief glance with Toji, his expression unreadable. He gave a small nod, as if reassuring you to continue, but you knew the truth—there was nothing to reassure, nothing to calm.

“We’re happy to finally share our truth, really.” you said, your voice smooth, practiced, like you were reading from a script. "It's been an incredible journey, and we're excited for what's next, both in our professional and personal lives."

The interviewer’s smile widened, practically giddy with excitement. “It’s clear that you two are truly in love! Your chemistry on and off-screen is undeniable. Toji, how does it feel to have such an amazing partner by your side?”

Toji’s lips quivered into a half-smile, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. “It feels like a new chapter, honestly. I’ve always admired her strength, her talent. She’s someone who challenges me, changes me, in ways I didn’t expect. I think that’s what makes it work.”

The words were kind, but you heard the undertone. You knew what it was. It was the unspoken acknowledgment of the past. The past you’d both tried to bury under layers of public appearances, press releases, and carefully crafted smiles. The past you had come to hate with all your hatred.

What had started as something deeply painful had morphed into something else entirely, something you didn’t quite understand but couldn’t escape. This was a gilded cage that you had allowed him to trap you in.

One that you couldn’t escape. That’s why you were here, standing next to him, because you couldn’t tear yourself away. You couldn’t fly away. Even when you hated him. Even when you knew better.

You felt the interviewer’s eyes shift back to you, awaiting a response, her curiosity piqued. "And for you, how does it feel to have him by your side now, after everything you've been through?"

Your chest tightened. The words to explain your truth were there, just beneath the surface, but they never quite made it to your lips. You gave another practiced smile, masking the turmoil that churned inside you.

"It’s complicated, yeah." you said carefully, choosing your words with precision. "We’ve both had our struggles, but that’s part of growth. That’s a lot of work, to make it all go smoothly. We’ve learned a lot from each other. And we’re both better for it."

The words hung in the air, a soft veil of politeness that couldn’t hide the undercurrent of something darker. The toxic bond, the cycle of love and hate, of pain and yearning. You hated that you were still here. You hated that you could never quite leave him, no matter how much you should. And yet, there was no escaping the pull. Not now. Not after everything.

The interviewer beamed, satisfied with your answer, but all you could do was nod politely, your gaze flickering to Toji again. The smile he gave you was the same one you had seen countless times before, the one that made your heart ache, the one that made you question everything about who you were, about who you were becoming.

You knew you should’ve been stronger. You knew you should’ve walked away a long time ago. But here you were, caught in the web you had spun and truly hated it. You hated him, but you still stayed. You knew, deep down, that this was your reality now.

Your love for him would never be pure. It would never be something that anyone deserves to have. It was not worth living a life of destitution and desperation. And yet, it was what you had. It would never be easy, it would never be anything other than toxic.. It would always be tangled up in mistakes, in forgiveness, in betrayal, in passion.

And so you stayed.

Because even if he would hurt you, even if you would hurt him, this was the life you had chosen. You had crossed that line long ago, and now, there was no going back. There was no way to escape the chaotic love you shared. It would make you happy. It would make you miserable. It would always be the same, because it had always been this way, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

For better or for worse.

For the horrid to the frigid.

You both were toxic till the end.

The moment you stepped inside the theater, the noise of the red carpet event faded into a dull hum, replaced by the quiet buzz of the room. The lights overhead gleamed off the polished surfaces, casting long shadows over the seats where the audience had yet to arrive.

Fushiguro Toji walked beside you, his presence commanding and strong, but the usual ease between you felt heavier now, charged with a tension neither of you had addressed since the interview. Since you were now a couple in the public hemisphere. And he was too aware of it all.

As you made your way toward the dressing room, you felt the weight of his blue–green gaze on you, sharp and searching, as if he was trying to decipher something in your posture, in the way you carried yourself. You ignored it, pretending to focus on the steps ahead, the noise of your heels clicking against the floor, the rhythm of your breath.

When you reached the door, you paused for a moment, the cold handle beneath your fingers reminding you of the distance that had always existed between you and Toji, even when you were close, even when you thought you understood each other. Even when you were now stuck in this disturbed romance.

The room was empty except for the faint scent of makeup and old costumes, a reminder of the countless times you’d shared similar spaces before everything had unraveled. Toji followed you inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His footsteps were quieter now, the usual swagger in his walk subdued, but his presence still loomed larger than life.

You didn’t turn to face him immediately, choosing instead to adjust your dress in front of the mirror. The reflection staring back at you seemed almost foreign—perfectly poised, with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. Not fully. And you didn’t know when that would ever happen again.

“You okay?” Toji’s voice was low, cautious, as though he wasn’t sure whether to press you or give you space.

You met his gaze in the mirror, seeing the uncertainty there. It made something inside you tighten, but you refused to show it. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” you said, though the words felt empty as they left your mouth. “It’s just... another night, another show.”

Toji stepped closer, his reflection merging with yours in the glass. “You don’t have to pretend, you know.” he said softly, his tone edging with a familiar vulnerability that made your chest tighten. “You don’t have to say everything’s fine when it’s not, babe.”

For a moment, you thought you might turn to him, reach out for him, let the rawness of it all spill over. But then you remembered the cameras, the words you’d both spoken on the carpet. The image you were meant to present. The lies you’d wrapped yourselves in, hoping no one would see the truth beneath.

“I’m not pretending.” you replied, a little too quickly. You broke your gaze with the mirror and turned to face him now, your eyes narrowing as if daring him to say something more. “What’s the point? Everyone’s watching, Toji. Everyone’s waiting to see if we’re going to fall apart, if we’re going to crack under the weight of it all. So why give them the satisfaction?”

Toji didn’t flinch at your sharp words. Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes softening, his voice quieter. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending too. Maybe I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

You shook your head, stepping back from him, though your heart thundered in your chest. “It’s too late for that. It’s too late for us, for anything real. We’ve already made our choices, Toji. This….whatever this is—this is just for show. This is what we have now. This is what we’re stuck with. And you know what the root cause was.”

For a brief moment, silence hung in the air, thick and oppressive, before Toji took a step forward, his hand reaching out to gently grasp your wrist, stopping you from retreating further. His touch was steady, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes, something that you could feel without needing to see it.

“I don’t want to lose you.” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you. I know I did, but I swear, I’m trying to fix it. I’m trying to fix us.”

You looked at his hand on your wrist, the heat of it seeping into your skin, and for a moment, you wondered if you could believe him. But then reality crashed back in, the weight of everything you’d been through. His betrayal, your own resentment, the lies you told yourselves about what you were.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again, Toji.” you whispered, your voice shaky, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be before. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

He watches as you halted, taking a moment to gather yourself. Before you looked at him again. “But god, we are just miserable with and without each other. Nothing changes. And yet here we are.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if pleading for you to see something, anything, in him that might make a difference. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I can earn that trust back. If you’ll let me.”

The words hung in the air, suspended between you, as the unspoken tension between you both remained unresolved. There was a part of you that wanted to believe him, that wanted to give in, to fall into the comfort of what you once had. But there was another part of you, the part that had learned from the mistakes, the hurt, that knew better.

“I don’t know.” you said quietly, pulling your wrist free from his grasp. “But I’m not the person I was before, and neither are you. So maybe we just need to accept that.”

Toji’s eyes dropped for a moment, the weight of your words clearly sinking in. He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to change your mind. Instead, he nodded, as if acknowledging the truth you both shared, no matter how painful it was.

“I don’t want to lose you.” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

But this time, there was no more fight left in you to give.

The words hung between you both, unresolved.

And for the first time, you wondered if you ever could let him go.

You wondered if you both would ever be free from each other.

Yet you knew that was wishful thinking, you knew that was a dream.

“You don’t have to worry.” You whispered back to him. “I’m not going anywhere….But you already knew that. Didn’t you?”

257 notes · View notes

telephoniii · 2 days ago

Text

Malleus copes with you leaving.

Malleus knows this is best for you.

It was your decision to make and yours alone. Lilia sat him down and thoroughly lectured him on it. He couldn't hold you back from happiness. Yet the heartache he felt only grew.

What was the point of all the late nights spent with you? The secrets whispered in the winds? The kisses shared past midnight?

Why would you provide him with such memories only to leave?

The second you stepped through that mirror, disappearing from his sight, Malleus felt sick. His whole world had been changed. He foolishly placed all his love and more onto you. Now that you’re gone, he’s directionless.

Malleus feels Lilia pat him on the shoulder. His voice isn't as playful as it usually is but still carries a chipper tone. “You’ve got centuries to find another!… Learn to let go.”

Let go?

Was this how relationships worked? You put in your all just to inevitably let go? How cruel.

He secluded himself from all of Diasomnia for a week, including his bodyguards and Lilia.

Malleus felt your absence everywhere. The starry nights are more silent than ever. Ramshackle reverted to an old, dusty dorm. He wonders what happened to your cat companion once you left.

The Gargoyle Research Club is canceled until further notice. Not that anyone else attended. Without your smile to invade the room, Malleus felt no desire to ramble about the complex history of his favorite subject.

Everything felt dull. And he despised it.

One night, he made his way into the abandoned dorm of Ramshackle.

He found your old room, your old mirror. Malleus thinks he’s going crazy. He swears he saw your reflection in the dinky glass.

It's amusing in a way. How one human had impacted his life so much.

Malleus wonders how you’re doing without him. Is it better? Living in a world where you could never see his face again?

He remembers you talking to him about your real family, reminiscing on bad and good memories. That was the first time he felt compelled to hold you. To comfort you. To make all the pain go away.

He would've never guessed you would soon be the source of his pain.

Malleus resents how easy it was to lose you; how easy it was for you to let him go. But another, louder part of himself knows that he could never hate you. When you left, you took a part of him permanently.

He longs to see you again.

For you to prance by his side at his club. For you to text him silly messages throughout the day on his tiny device. For you to come to him asking for help in finding Grim.

Malleus is unbearably lonely without you.

Then he hears a thud. It seems as though the wind had knocked an item in your room over. A journal. Malleus can’t help but observe the little notebook.

Your name was written on the cover. He immediately opens to page one.

The date at the top was the exact day he remembers first meeting you. You write about a handsome stranger you met at night. Based on your words, you felt as though you had intruded on his space.

Malleus soon finds himself spiraling, reading page after page of you describing your time at NRC; the people you met, the memories you created, and the fae you fell in love with.

He feels a surge of disappointment as he quickly reads through it all, soon reaching the end. His eyes widen as he turns to the last page. A mere two sentences were written in ink.

“You’ll always be my love. Even if we’re dimensions apart, Tsunotaro.”

Malleus’s grip on the leather cover tightened. You knew he’d find this. He’s partly amused. You are always full of surprises.

He rips out that last page addressed to him, letting the notebook fall to the floor as he does.

Malleus transforms the torn paper into a delicate, green rose. That flower will now always hold a piece of his magic.

The fae places it in front of the mirror in which he stares at his reflection.

“I, Malleus Draconia, vow to never love another like I did you, my dearest child of man.”

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x you #twst x yuu #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x you #malleus x you #malleus draconia x reader angst #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland x Reader angst

226 notes · View notes

rafecameronsslut4ever · 1 day ago

Text

RUN FOR THE HILLS — max verstappen (angst, smut, nsfw)

pairing; fem!reader x max verstappen summary: you knew deep down that it was never gonna be you and him. warnings: angst, smut, nsfw, mdni, fingering a/n: lowkey highkey obsessed w tate mcrae😵😵i need to stop writing just angst and smut

the suite smelled like him; a faint mix of the expensive perfume he used and the redbulls he always drank.

a metallic tang of adrenaline clung to the air itself.

you hated how much it felt like home—this room that wasn’t yours, this man who wasn't yours.

but it always was like this. hotels, late nights, his hands through your hair. your clothes scattered across the floor.

you were perched on the edge of the bed, legs bare beneath a shirt he had forgotten he’d lent you.

his silhouette loomed in the doorway to the balcony, glass filled with some alcohol—glowing faintly between his fingers. the city lights painted his face in shades of gold and blue, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw and the set of his mouth.

he hadn’t said a word in minutes.

but it was always like this after, once the thrill burned off, leaving only silence.

silence that was a reminder of the long talks that never went deep enough, never continued outside of the room. his red eyes, that were evidence of too much feeling buried beneath too little honesty. and of you, missing the moments when he was still close enough to touch.

“you’re quiet,” you murmured, voice soft. you didn’t mean for it to sound as accusatory as it did, but the tension in the room was thick enough to choke on.

max sucked in a sharp breath. “what do you want me to say?” his voice was hoarse, as if he’d swallowed gravel and wasn’t interested in smoothing it out.

you bit back the immediate response, instead choosing to slide off the bed and approach him. the cool floor stung your feet as you crossed the small distance to stand beside him.

“what this is?” you asked, your words barely audible over the muffled sounds of the city below.

max turned to you, eyes dark and unreadable.

he had a way of looking at you in a way that made you jittery, like he could see every thought you’d ever had about him.

“it’s whatever you want it to be,” he said after a pause, and you hated the way his words felt like both a gift and a dismissal.

your laugh came sharp and humourless.

“don’t you fucking do that, max.” you stepped closer, daring him to flinch, to break. “you’re the one who texts me at two in the morning. you're the one who shows up even when i say i need space. you're the one who kisses me and then acts like it doesn’t mean anything.”

“stop.” his voice came like a whip, cutting through the air. he harshly placed his glass on the table before looking at you again. “you think i don’t know what this is doing to you? to us?”

us.

the word hung there, fragile and fleeting, choking the air and suffocating both of you.

you looked into his eyes, shaking your head.

fuck.

you grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him toward you, crashing your mouth against his.

the kiss was desperate, tongue and teeth and anger spilling out all at once.

his hands found your waist, fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold tight enough.

“this isn’t gonna work,” you gasped against his mouth, even as your hands slid beneath his shirt to trace the muscles of his back. “it’s never gonna be real.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his breath hot against your lips. “walk away, then.”

the answer knocked the air from your lungs, but deep down you knew he was right.

you should have left months ago, left the first time you realised what he meant to you and how little you meant to him in return. but here you were, melting from his touch, caught in the gravity of him.

drawn to the danger that was covered by the thrill.

“i'm obsessed with you,” you whispered, the confession raw, bleeding between you both.

his lips found yours again, softer this time, like an apology he didn’t know how to give. he backed you into the room, the edge of the bed catching the backs of your knees until you were falling, pulling him down with you.

his weight settled over you, grounding you in a way that felt both comforting and suffocating.

clothes disappeared in a haze of heat and urgency.

his hands roamed around your body as if he was memorising you, as if this was the last time he’d ever touch you.

perhaps, it was.

his lips traced a fire along your collarbone, down your chest, lower still. all you could do was feel—the slide of his skin against yours, the way he filled the empty spaces inside you that you didn’t even know existed until him.

you gasped as his fingers slipped inside you, his touch familiar, addictive.

the way he touched you, it went straight to your heart, igniting a fire within you and cutting your heart.

your nails dug into his shoulders, the skin slick beneath your fingers. he was everywhere, and it wasn't enough.

"fuck," he hissed as you pressed your thighs around his fingers, chasing the sensation of his touch, the feel of him filling you.

"please," the word escaped as a moan as his lips traced the line of your collarbone. "max."

his name tumbled from your lips, sounding broken and desperate and aching.

"fuck me like it means something." you weren't sure if the words you had said were a plea or an accusation.

or maybe both.

he lifted his head, meeting your gaze. for a moment, all you could see was a boy lost in a storm.

but then his lips were on yours, the kiss hard, bruising, possessive, and all your senses were knocked away.

the weight of his body pressed against yours, and his fingers intertwined with yours, pinning them to the mattress above your head. he released a ragged breath, his grip tightening on your hands.

he pulled his fingers out of you, trailing them back to himself as he aligned himself and immediately pushed into you.

a groan tore through his throat, a broken, beautiful sound that sent goosebumps down your arms. you arched your back in response, his name falling from your lips as pleasure coursed through your body, making your vision blur.

he began moving, slow and deep, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe—the pressure building, consuming, overwhelming.

everything was him. he was everywhere and also nowhere, and you wondered how he was the only thing you needed but not one thing you wanted.

max, a chant.

your fingers clung to him as he moved within you, as if the two of you would fall apart without the other.

maybe you would. maybe this was a deck of cards waiting to crash down. maybe he was a flame shining brighter than the stars, and you were a moth, ready to burn up and turn to ash.

it was chaos and peace; a hurricane wrapped in the promise of a tomorrow.

it wasn’t enough, and it never would be. it was never going to be you, and you were so fucking tired of it.

yet, here you were, begging him to make it hurt a little more.

he moved faster, the pleasure building within you, and your eyes rolled back into your head, the sight drawing a low, guttural groan from his throat, the sound reverberating through his body.

everything was becoming too much. his touch, his scent, the heat of his skin, the sounds he made, the way his name felt as it slipped past your lips.

your vision blurred, the world fading around you until there was only him.

he kissed you then, his lips claimed yours and you let him—you surrendered yourself, losing yourself to him. his grip around your hands tightened into a bruising grip.

"fuck, baby." his voice was nothing but a breath, a desperate plea, a promise. "you are so good."

he set a faster pace, and every sigh, every moan, every broken word—he drank them up, held them close.

the pressure reached higher and higher, your body aching, pleading for release. and then his name spilled from your lips in a cry, and you were gone, the world shattering around you as pleasure crashed through you like waves in a high tide.

and he was there with you, following after you, the sound of your name dripping down his lips—a symphony, a lullaby, a curse.

he slowed down, resting his head on your forehead before collapsing beside you, breathing ragged and skin slick with sweat.

but when the sweat dried and the silence crept back in, the reality creeped back like a stone in your stomach.

“this is killing me,” you said softly, the words breaking somewhere between your throat and your chest.

your eyes were trained on the white ceiling above you, and so were his.

max didn’t respond right away. when he finally did, his voice was quiet, almost broken. “maybe it’s time to stop.”

you closed your eyes, accepting his answer.

you’d always known that the fire would burn you alive. this thing between you wasn’t love. it was darker, messier—something that was tearing both of you apart piece by piece.

"it's never gonna ever be us, y'know?" he said, and it sounded almost like a confession.

it was the truth that had been staring both of you in the face since the very beginning.

"i know." you truly did, because it was a fact.

whatever this was, it was just fragments of what could have been—if only neither of you had been scared to ask for more.

but there were some things that were better left unsaid.

84 notes · View notes

pinklotushere · 1 day ago

Text

Five times someone was flustered by nightwing, and the one time it was by dick grayson

That is not to say dick doesn't charm people,he absolutely does, I just think nightwing is very different from dick if you know what I mean, he's got a certain charm that makes me want to rip my heart out and offer it to him

The café was dimly lit, its neon “Open Late” sign buzzing softly in the quiet Blüdhaven night. A handful of customers sipped their drinks in peace until the door slammed open, and a masked mugger stormed in, waving a gun.

“Everyone down! Empty the register!” he barked, his voice jittery.

The young barista froze, fumbling with the cash drawer as the customers cowered behind tables. Her hands shook so badly that coins clattered to the floor.

“Move faster!” the mugger yelled, slamming his hand on the counter.

“Maybe try saying ‘please,’” a voice quipped from above.

The mugger spun around just in time to see Nightwing drop from the rafters, landing with feline grace.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“its a cafe,” he said, twirling his escrima sticks. “And you’re ruining coffee night, pal.”

The mugger lunged, but Nightwing dodged easily, knocking the gun out of his hand with a sharp crack. A quick sweep of the leg sent the man sprawling, and within seconds, he was zip-tied to a chair.

The barista stared, wide-eyed, as Nightwing approached her. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” she stammered, brushing a curl from her face. “Thanks, Hot—uh, Nightwing. Sorry, I didn’t mean—"

“Hotwing, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. “That’s a new one.”

Her face turned scarlet. “Oh my god, I didn’t mean to say that out loud!”

“Relax,” he said, chuckling as he adjusted his escrima stick on his back and took a peek at her nametag. “Emily, right? You’re good under pressure. Just maybe work on the nicknames.”

She managed a laugh as he turned toward the door. “Thanks again!”

“Anytime,” he called back, disappearing into the night.

The apartment building glowed orange against the midnight sky, flames devouring the upper floors. Sirens blared as firefighters scrambled to douse the inferno, but a group was trapped on the fifth floor, coughing and struggling to find an escape.

“Hang tight!” a voice called through the smoke.

The firefighters looked up to see Nightwing emerging from a shattered window, his silhouette framed by the flickering firelight.

“Everyone still breathing?” he asked, scanning the room.

“Yeah, but we’re trapped!” one of the firefighters said. “Ceiling came down behind us!”

“Not a problem.” Nightwing fired his grappling hook, securing it to a stable beam. “Let’s get you out of here.”

As he helped the first firefighter across the rope line, the man stammered, “Holy crap, you’re really Nightwing! I—uh—I’m a huge fan!”

“Appreciate it,” Nightwing said, steadying him. “Now focus on not looking down, okay?”

Once they were all safely outside, the fanboy firefighter turned to his team, still buzzing with excitement.

“Did you see him? He’s even cooler in person!”

The others burst into laughter, and Nightwing, perched on a nearby ledge, called down, “You’re making me blush.” He gave a two-fingered salute before disappearing into the shadows.

The moonlight filtered through the trees of Blüdhaven Park, casting long, eerie shadows. Nightwing had just subdued a thief when he noticed someone sitting on a bench nearby, illuminated by the soft glow of a portable lamp.

The young woman was sketching furiously, glancing up at him every few seconds. When she realized he’d spotted her, she froze, her pencil hovering mid-air.

“Nice night for art,” Nightwing said, strolling over.

“Uh… yeah,” she stammered, clutching her sketchpad like a shield.

“What are you working on?”

She hesitated, then flipped the pad around to show him. The drawing captured him mid-leap, his escrima sticks glowing, his movements frozen in perfect, exaggerated detail.

“Wow,” he said, genuinely impressed. “That’s incredible.”

“You think so?” she asked, her cheeks reddening. “I thought I might’ve overdone it…”

He tilted his head, studying the sketch. “Maybe a bit on the muscles, but hey, I’m not complaining.”

She laughed nervously. “Artistic choice?”

“Exactly.” He smiled. “You’ve got talent. Keep at it."

“Thanks,” she said softly.

As he turned to leave, she called out, “Wait! Can I give this to you?”

“Sure,” he said, accepting the sketch. “But only if you sign it. Gotta keep it authentic.”

Her face lit up as she scribbled her name at the bottom. He gave her a wink before vanishing into the night.

The clinic was quiet, its fluorescent lights flickering against the darkened windows. Nightwing leaned against the counter, holding a hand over the shallow cut on his arm.

“Can I help—oh!” the nurse gasped, nearly dropping her clipboard when she saw him.

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. “Didn’t mean to scare you.

“You’re Nightwing!” she blurted, then immediately cringed. “I mean, obviously you’re Nightwing. Sorry! Uh, what do you need?”

“Just a quick patch-up,” he said, lifting his arm. “Nothing too serious.”

She nodded, her hands trembling as she grabbed the supplies. “Sit here, please.”

He perched on the exam table, watching as she cleaned the wound. Her hands steady as she worked.

“You sure I’m not making you nervous?” he teased.

“What? No!” she said quickly, then winced. “Okay, maybe a little. It’s not every night you stitch up a superhero.”

“Fair point,” he said with a grin.

As she tightened the last stitch, he winced.

“Oh no! Did I hurt you?” she asked, looking horrified.

“Not at all,” he said quickly. “You’re doing great.”

She finished and handed him a lollipop from a nearby jar. “For being brave.”

He laughed, tucking it into his belt. “Thanks, doc. I'll eat it with pride.”

The night sky over Blüdhaven was clear for once, the stars twinkling above a rooftop wedding. Strings of fairy lights bathed the intimate gathering in a soft glow, and the bride and groom had just started their first dance when chaos erupted.

Three armed men burst onto the rooftop, shouting orders.

“Hands in the air! Phones and wallets, now!” one of them barked, his gun waving wildly.

Guests gasped, clutching each other in fear. The bride clung to her groom, her veil fluttering in the breeze as she whispered, “What do we do?”

Before anyone could answer, a grappling hook hissed through the air.

“Sorry to crash your party,” Nightwing said as he swung in, landing right between the thugs and the wedding party. “But I’m not a fan of uninvited guests.”

The first thug lunged, but Nightwing dodged with ease, disarming him in a heartbeat. The second went for his gun, only to get an escrima stick to the wrist. By the time the third thug turned to run, Nightwing had already tripped him with a spin-kick.

The bride and groom stared, wide-eyed, as Nightwing zip-tied the men and turned back to the guests.

“Everyone okay?” he asked, brushing off his gloves.

The bride stepped forward, her dress shimmering in the light, face slightly flushed “We are, thanks to you. You saved our wedding!”

“Glad I could help,” Nightwing said, his grin warm. He glanced at the decorations. “Nice setup, by the way. Love the string lights.”

“Stay for cake?” the groom asked, half-joking, his face suspiciously warm.

Nightwing chuckled. “Tempting, but I’m on the clock. Congrats, though!”

As he turned to leave, the bride called after him, “Wait! At least let us take a photo! You’re part of our night now."

He hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Alright, but just one.”

The guests quickly gathered, and someone snapped the shot: the bride and groom in the centre, with Nightwing standing behind them, his arms crossed, and a playful smirk on his face.

“Thanks again,” the bride said as Nightwing stepped back.

“Anytime,” he replied, disappearing into the shadows.

The mall was bustling with weekend shoppers, the hum of conversation, and the jingling of a carousel filling the air. Dick was taking a rare day off, dressed casually in jeans and a leather jacket, sipping a coffee as he strolled through the crowd.

A small voice caught his attention.

“mama? Mama?”

Dick turned to see a little girl standing near a fountain, clutching a stuffed bunny to her chest, her wide eyes brimming with tears. She couldn’t have been older than five.

“Hey there,” he said gently, crouching to her level. “You lost?”

She nodded, sniffling. “I can’t find my mommy.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her,” Dick said with a reassuring smile. “What’s your name?”

“Lila,” she whispered.

“Hi, Lila. I’m Dick.” He held out his hand, and she took it hesitantly. “Now, let’s go find your mom. Do you remember what she was wearing?”

“A pink sweater,” Lila said, clutching his hand tightly as they weaved through the crowd.

It didn’t take long before Dick spotted a frantic-looking woman near the food court, scanning the area with wide eyes.

“Lila!” the woman called, relief flooding her face as she spotted them. She rushed over, dropping to her knees to hug her daughter tightly. “Oh my goodness, I was so worried!”

“Mama!” Lila cried, wrapping her arms around her mother.

The woman looked up at Dick, her cheeks flushed. “Thank you so much! I don’t know what I would’ve done if—” She cut of, suddenly realizing who he was.

“You’re… Dick Grayson?” she asked, her eyes widening.

Dick laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s me. I’m just glad I could help.”

The woman’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “I… uh… Wow, okay. Thank you. Really. You’re—uh—taller in person.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin turning slightly playful. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She laughed nervously, still flustered. “I didn’t mean to—sorry! I’m a little overwhelmed."

“No need to apologize,” he said warmly. “I’m just glad Lila’s safe.”

“Thank you again,” she said, glancing between him and her daughter. “You’re a real hero.”

Dick gave a small wave to Lila, who beamed up at him. “You’re welcome. Stay close to your mom, okay?”

“I will!” Lila said, hugging her bunny tightly.

As Dick walked away, the woman muttered under her breath, “Of course he’s ridiculously nice, too.” She shook her head, still blushing, as she scooped up her daughter and headed home.

#dick grayson #batman #bludhaven #dc comics #dick grayson is a ray of sunshine #dick grason is a pretty boy #i will die on this hill #nightwing #pretty boy dick grayson #dick grayson is a gift #i love him

75 notes · View notes

starrygazers · 11 hours ago

Text

home, or what's left of it.

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ I'M IN MY MYDEI WRITING GROOVE (procrastinating on my programming assignment). Also, the food used here is based on Golden Honeycakes, one of the oldest delicacies in Amphoreus history, which was once a favorite high-end dessert among the nobility. (according to the HSR wiki) also he made an ad for this? that's so cute

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ tags : comfort, fluff

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ featuring : Mydei; minor spoilers for 3.0

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The brutish man ducks his head to slip inside the small entryway. He makes no sound, but his demanding presence in the middle of the establishment is not easy to miss.

You meet his eyes, cloth in hand. Giving him a small smile, you look away and continue wiping the tables. "Normal people say hello, you know?"

Mydei huffs, his hands crossed in front of his chest. The chilly night air of Okhema doesn't seem to bother him, as he's dressed like he normally is. Flashy, royal; befitting of a Crown Prince.

"Take a seat," you motion to the table nearest to the counter. You've put away most of the chairs, as the clock nears midnight, but saved a single one in hopes of your esteemed guest's visit.

He positions himself on the appointed seat, watching you take ingredients out from behind the counter to start cooking.

Mydei is no stranger to being away from home; that's how he'd spent most of his childhood, anyway. Fighting for his life at sea, dying in the hands of giant waves, starvation, or beasts. Even in Kremnos, he never experienced a good night's sleep. It was a kill or be killed world, and immortality doesn't take that away from him; they just have to kill him again and again until he stays dead.

And home was not something to miss, not after what happened. Not after his god fell from glory, dooming his people, and he was forced to make a choice between dying (again and again) for mortals or reign as a deity. So, he chose pain, because that is what's destined for the King who never got his throne.

Home is so far, and he doesn't want to go back.

And yet,

"Here you go!"

You place a plate of Golden Honeycake, topped with fresh fruits and dripping with honey, just like how Mydei likes it.

Home is far, and he doesn't want to go back, but he remembers the same aroma. Of the cooks taking pity in him and introducing him to the sweet delicacy. Of stories in the past by his mother who teased him for having the same taste in sweets as his father and all the kings before him.

He gives you a curt nod, a sign of thanks. You beam at him, watching intently as he takes a tentative bite. It tastes like home.

He takes another bite. Then another, and another, until the plate is a fresh clean slate. You chuckle, picking up the plate.

"You know, most people consider it rude to barge in on closing time," you tease him.

"I didn't mean to disrupt your business."

"You act like you don't drop by here every night, ordering the same thing," you laugh again, and he find himself liking the sound of it. He wants you to laugh again. "You must really like it, huh?"

He chooses not to answer, but he doesn't shake his head either.

You disappear behind the counter to wash the last plate, and he stands in the middle of your restaurant awkwardly.

"Is there ... anything I can help with?" he asks sheepishly.

You stare at him, clearly surprised, before clearing your throat. "Oh, um, you can put the chair away. Please, if you don't mind."

Mydei nods, picking up the wooden chair with ease as if he were handling a feather. At the sight, you allowed yourself a joke, "Closing would be a breeze if you worked here."

The Prince looks away, seeing your apron tucked under one of the shelves, letting his mind wander about a universe where the battles he fought were less gruesome. Where he could patch his wounds and value his only life. Where he would go home, and he'd be proud to call it that.

But in this world, all he had were the scars and the baths.

"You make good Golden Honeycake," he says. "It reminds me of the ones they used to make back in Castrum Kremnos."

Mydei swears he can see the sparkle in your eyes when you stare at him in awe, and thought they rivaled the sight of the night sky of all of Amphoreus.

Then your lips break into a smile, and Mydei's cold, inhumane, non-existent heart melts like the butter on the honeycake.

"I'll have you know that compliments won't suffice as payment," you grin, though a hint of bashfulness is evident in your voice.

"Put it on my tab." the Prince turns away from you, hiding his own embarrassment as he walks to the exit.

"If you had one, it'd be longer than my grocery list," you joke again. "How about this; you come back tomorrow?"

Mydei looks back to you, reads the hope written on your expression easily, and lets out a sigh.

"Yeah, expect me to bother you again tomorrow."

Home is maybe not too far away.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

this was lowk bad but I js wanted to get this one out so I can clear up my drafts lol.

#imagine blog #hsr #mydei #hsr mydei #mydei hsr #honkai star rail x yn #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail mydei #honkai star rail x reader #mydei x reader #mydeimos #mydei x you #mydei x y/n #hsr x reader #amphoreus #☆—starrygazers

84 notes · View notes

suugarbabe · 2 days ago

Text

remus lupin x reader

(not proofread, sozz)

Where he came from you weren’t exactly sure. But you were never going to be able to thank him enough for coming when he did.

You’d been stuck against the wall at the club for at least twenty minutes, feeling caged in by some guy who clearly could not take a hint. You had an arm crossed over your body the other holding your drink close to your face; essentially blocking your lips from any possibility.

The unwanted man leaned in towards you once more. A moist and heated whisper brushed against the shell of your ear of what he thought of you and it sent chills down your spine that he clearly mistook for a shiver of anticipated attraction.

“Godric’s sake, there you are, Dovey,” the arm of a very tall, and quite fit if you did say so yourself, man wrapped itself around your shoulders while simultaneously pushing Mr. Creepball's face away from you. "Y'mind, mate? She's taken and clearly uninterested in the likes of you."

Mr. Creepball scowled, eyeing your new savior up and down. You tried to subtly do the same in which you hoped did not look like your first time observing. His sandy colored hair was tousled and messy. He had a few scars on his face; the one across his lip stretched thin as he smirked at the man.

Your previous problem was not impressed, "Who the fuck are you?" Your savior smiled at this, and you'd be lying if you tried to deny just how weak it made your knees, "Oh, I'm Remus. Don't bother with yours, though. Don't care. You ready to go back to our friends, Dove?"

You gave Remus a shy nod before he attempted to guide you away just for the creeper to grab hold of Remus's shoulder. "Don't buy it," the creep said. Remus gave him a confused look, giving you a side glance before rolling his eyes.

"We aren't selling you shit. Now leave us alone, you're starting to make me annoyed," Remus went to step away from the wall, only from the man to step in front of him. "She's no more yours than she was mine, I had first claims. So give her up," the man looked you up and down, his demeanor doing nothing to calm your nerves.

Remus barked out a laugh, only making the man scowl more intense. "Merlin, you're serious aren't you. For fucks sake," Remus kept his arm around your shoulders as he wrapped his free hand at the base of your jaw, "Y'mind, Dovey?" He gave you a wink and you instantly nodded.

With a firm but gentle grip Remus pulled your face to his, the fluttering feeling in your stomach only intensifying as the space between the two of you disappears. It's unhurried, growing achingly slow as Remus flattens his tongue against your bottom lip.

The slightest of pressure on your jaw has your lips parting and you let him lick into your mouth. A rumble in your throat akin to that of a moan embarrassingly escapes and you can't find it in your thoughts to care as you grip onto the collar of his flannel to pull him closer, deeper.

You feel him smiling against your lips at your eagerness, pushing you back against the wall you were previously not so fond of. But now, now your'd be damned if you were removed from it.

"Oi, Moons! Who the bloody fuck are you snogging?" There's a shouting behind Remus that has him detaching from you with a groan and a grin and, Merlin, if it wasn't the prettiest thing you've seen all night. "Okay, dove," Remus lets the pet name fall from his lips again before peppering your neck and jawline with a few kisses, "Wanna properly introduce yourself to me before you're forced to meet my friends?"

#mmmm this kinda sucks but i needd to get it out of my head????#it's been rotting my brain for the last several days #and i just NEEEEDED it out #i love remus so much??#cause he would deff save you from some creep as guy #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #mauraders era

50 notes · View notes

bamgyuuuri · 1 day ago

Text

⤷ delicate ┈ cbg.

pairing. beomgyu x afab!reader . angst . moral dilemmas word count. 1.1k short note ... im supposed to be studying for exams tmr but ended up writing this drabble instead,, ;P i’ll actually get to the reqs sent to me once i finish finals i promise omg

all your friends despised beomgyu.

their hatred wasn’t casual, the kind born out of a passing annoyance or a small slight, no. it was deep, raw, and visceral, the kind of hatred that grew roots in every whispered conversation, every sharp glance, every cruel joke that lingered in the air long after it was said.

“he’s the worst kind of person,” one of your friends said one evening, her voice tight and bitter as she stabbed at her salad with her fork.

the group was seated in your favorite booth at the diner, the one you always shared late into the night, laughter echoing against the walls—except tonight was different. tonight, the atmosphere was tense, heavy. “he didn’t just lead her on. he used her.”

your other friends nodded, their agreement coming in muttered curses and sharp scoffs.

“what he did to her exactly?” another leaned forward, her voice dropping into an almost conspiratorial whisper, like the words were too vile to say out loud.

“he led her on for months. months. and then just... disappeared. like she was nothing. like she didn’t even matter. god, if i ever see him again, i don’t know what i’d do.”

“honestly,” one of them said, turning to look directly at you, “i don’t get how you’re so calm about this. if i were you, i’d never be able to even think about him without wanting to scream.”

your throat tightened. you stared into your untouched drink, watching the condensation drip down the glass like it held the answers to the storm raging inside you.

you wanted to say something. you wanted to tell them that they were wrong, that the boy they described wasn’t the beomgyu you knew. but how could you? how could you speak up without unraveling the tangled mess of lies and secrets you had been holding together with trembling hands?

because the truth was something they could never know.

they didn’t know that while your friend had been falling for beomgyu, he had been falling for someone else.

he had been falling for you.

the guilt had been unbearable at first. it clawed at you, sinking its sharp, unrelenting talons into your chest every time your friend cried on your shoulder, her voice trembling as she whispered, “what did I do wrong?”

you held her, whispered reassurances you didn’t even believe, all the while knowing that you were the reason her heart had been broken.

you told yourself you would walk away. that you had to.

but then he would look at you with those eyes, dark and full of something so raw and vulnerable it made your knees weak. his walls would crumble, just for you, and the boy they all hated became someone entirely different. someone you couldn’t let go of.

“do you hate me too?” he had asked one night, his voice quiet and small, like he was afraid of the answer. you were sitting on the floor of your bedroom, the soft glow of a candle flickering between you. he was leaning back on his hands, his gaze fixed on you, searching, waiting.

your breath caught. “what?”

“everyone else does,” he continued, his lips twitching into a humorless smile. “so I figure… maybe you do too. maybe you should.”

your heart shattered. “beomgyu—”

“i know what they think of me,” he interrupted, his voice trembling now, cracking under the weight of emotions he couldn’t hold back. “i know what they say. and maybe… maybe they’re right. maybe I am horrible. but…” he reached for you then, his hand brushing against yours, warm and hesitant. “when i’m with you, it doesn’t feel like I’m that person. you make me want to be better. you make me feel like… like maybe I can be.”

you had no words. his gaze burned into you, his eyes filled with something so achingly sincere it made it hard to breathe.

but the guilt was still there, a sharp blade twisting in your chest, cutting deeper with every moment you stayed. you knew what your friends would think if they found out, the way their faces would contort with anger, with betrayal. you could hear their accusations, their voices dripping with venom. how could you do this to her? how could you do this to us?

and yet, despite the weight of it all, you couldn’t walk away.

because you loved him.

and that made it worse, somehow.

it wasn’t just that you were keeping a secret that would destroy everything. it was that you didn’t want to stop. you didn’t want to let him go, even though you knew you should. even though every moral fiber in your being screamed at you to end it, to put the pieces back together before it was too late.

but how could you leave when he looked at you like that? like you were the only person who had ever truly seen him?

how could you leave when his voice trembled as he whispered your name, when his hands shook as they traced over your skin, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go?

how could you leave when, for all his flaws, for all the mistakes he had made, he was still the boy you loved?

“you should hate me,” you whispered one night, your voice breaking as the words tumbled out. the two of you were lying in bed, tangled together in the darkness. his arm was draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. “you should hate me for doing this. for not stopping it.”

he didn’t answer at first. his hold on you tightened, his fingers digging into your side like he was trying to keep you there, trying to stop you from slipping away.

“i could never hate you,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “even if I should.”

your chest ached, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a thousand bricks.

you wanted to believe him. god, you wanted to believe him. but the guilt was always there, a constant reminder of the line you had crossed, the trust you had broken.

you didn’t know if you deserved happiness. not when it came at the expense of someone else’s pain. but when he held you like this, when he whispered your name like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

because no matter how wrong it was, no matter how much it hurt, you loved him.

and maybe that made you just as horrible as they thought he was.

taglist! @pagelets, @jettithink, @killa-1009, @j-ji-jia, @frankghgr, @dawngyu @unusuallyunlikelyfox @sxmmerberries @napipope-ta <3 (click here if you would like to be added ^_^)

#beomgyu #choi beomgyu #beomgyu x female reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu angst #beomgyu imagines #txt x reader #txt imagines #txt fanfic #txt x you #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #beomgyu drabble #txt drabble

42 notes · View notes

mxltifxnd0m · 19 hours ago

Text

motel chats ── . ✶ ruby

summary: you find ruby in your motel room and she wants have a "chat"

pairings: bi! ruby 2.0 x bi! reader, ruby x gn afab! reader, mentions of samruby and slight unrequited sam x reader warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, set in szn 4 sometime after ep 4.10, no use of 'y/n', reader is described to be taller than ruby, cursing, smut, hate sex, oral (reader receiving), fingering (ruby receiving), implied switch! ruby and reader, name-calling (whore, slut), face sitting, some degradation, a prequel to my 'you did what?' fic but can be read as a standalone, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own word count: 3.5K a/n: first ruby fic/smut!! never thought id be writing a ruby fic but alas im too gay for her not to write one for her bc well look at her LOL also my first time writing wlw (f/f) smut so give me a little bit of grace <3 also there are like no ruby fics out there so i barely had any frame of references outside of mari's fics T-T alas i hope you ruby lovers/freaks enjoy this one ruby masterlist

AT THIS POINT, you don't know if it's too late to change what you're doing with your life. You swiftly swung the iron crowbar at the spirit that was charging at you in its grave that you had just dug up. You were so close to getting rid of this ghost, but of course, it couldn’t be easy for you.

You had found a simple salt and burn just a couple hours away from Bobby’s. You had asked if the boys wanted to come with you, but they had denied since the brothers were trying to figure out how to stop Lilith from breaking more seals. Which, you had to admit, was out of your league when it came to the world of the supernatural. You tried helping them out as best as you could, but sometimes you felt like you were in their way when it came to helping them put a stop to the end of the world.

You never thought that your life would be this level of crazy, but since reconnecting with the Winchesters, it’s pretty much turned your life upside down (even more so than you thought possible).

The ghost quickly disappeared when the iron made contact with its translucent form. You tried to use your lighter, but it wouldn’t light for a moment, and you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand as you heard a whoosh come from behind you. You swung your crowbar again, and the ghost evaporated.

“Just fucking light already.” You grunted out, frustrated as your thumb was flicking against the flint of the lighter. Once, then twice, you tried lighting it before the flame flickered to life. You quickly threw the lighter into the open coffin, igniting the salted and gasoline-soaked corpse. You clambered out of the open grave and saw the remnants of the ghost ‘dying’ for good as the body was set aflame.

You let out a sigh, your body sagging in relief and tiredness as you lay back onto the cool grass of the cemetery you were in.

“Next time, I’m forcing one of them to come with me.” You muttered into the silent night. Despite having solo hunted for the majority of the time, you have to say that having another pair of hands (or two, for this matter) was oh so very helpful when it came to having to dig up a dead body and getting rid of the spirit. You let out another sigh before sitting up, a small groan leaving your lips.

Fuck me. You thought as you got up from the ground and grabbed your shovel, preparing to shovel the dirt back into the hole you just dug up.

You stalked towards your motel room, the parking lot empty, save for your car and a couple of other ones scattered throughout the lot, but paid no mind to them as exhaustion riddled your brain. You had one goal in mind, and that was to get to your room, shower, and then collapse in bed, hoping you could sleep for at least six hours.

You threw the duffle that was haphazardly slung on your shoulder on the foot of one of the two queen beds you had in the room. You sifted through it to grab some comfortable clothes and your toiletry bag before you made your way to the bathroom. You stayed underneath the stream of water until it ran cold, scrubbing off all of the dirt and grime that was on your body from the hunt. You quickly went through your nighttime routine, eager to fall into bed and let sleep take you away from the land of the living temporarily.

But when you exited the bathroom, irritation started to brew in your chest when you saw a familiar brunette laying on the vacant bed.

Ruby’s head turned when she heard the bathroom door open, and you came out of it. She smirked when she saw how your mood shifted from tired to annoyed when you laid eyes on her.

“Wow, don’t you look great.” Ruby snarked as she sat up on the bed, and her eyes looked you up and down.

You couldn’t recognize the look in her eye as her gaze roamed your figure, only in a tank top and some boy shorts style underwear. You wore this getup when you had the rare opportunity to be on a solo hunt or have a room to yourself.

But you decidedly ignored how she was looking at you and scowled. “What the hell are you doing in my room?” You were tired and didn’t want to deal with her bullshit at the moment.

“We,” Ignoring your words, she stood up from the bed and gestured between the two of you, “Need to have a little chat.” Ruby’s hips swayed slightly as she began to walk towards you.

You scoffed. “No, we don’t.” You crossed your arms as you leaned against the doorway of the bathroom, and your eyes never left Ruby’s brown ones as she strode towards you.

Ruby had a sly smirk on her face. “You really don’t like me do you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry did I not make that abundantly clear the last time we had a ‘chat’?” You cocked your head to the side. “Because if it wasn’t I can refresh your memory.” Sarcasm and irritation bled through your words as the demon in front of you kept you from sleeping.

This wasn’t the first time Ruby had cornered you alone. The two of you had a bit of “girl talk” (Ruby’s words, not yours) the night after you and Dean found out what Sam was doing late at night after you had noticed that he would sneak out at night shortly after getting Dean back from Hell. That conversation was filled with thinly-veiled insults, alongside Ruby being able to rile you up until she decided she was done having fun and disappeared when you turned your back on her.

Ruby had rolled her eyes at your words but was standing in front of you now, only a few feet away. You had a couple of inches on the demon, having to tilt your head down to meet her eyes as Ruby stared up at you, amusement gleaming in her eyes at your foul mood. But the look you couldn’t recognize was back in her gaze.

A scowl etched your face, trying to mask how Ruby’s proximity had lit something within you, but you stamped it down, letting annoyance coat your features.

“Look, this won’t take long if you stop being a smartass for a second and you listen to me,” Ruby said as she crossed her arms—the action pushing up her breasts, making her cleavage slightly more prominent in the low-cut shirt she was wearing.

Your eyes flicked down to Ruby’s chest for a second before meeting her eyes—yours narrowing as you stared her down.

“What do you want?” You asked through gritted teeth, deciding that if you wanted her gone faster, you would need to be cooperative (even though deep down you didn’t want to).

The corner of her lips twitched. “I need your help.”

“Nope.”

“You haven’t even-”

You shook your head. “Not in a million years am I going to help you with anything. Go ask Sam. I’m sure he’d be willing to help you since you got him wrapped around your finger.” You spat out his name bitterly, knowing that Sam was under her spell and would be at her beck and call if it wasn’t for you or Dean trying to convince him that Ruby was bad news.

Ruby dared to smirk at you, obviously loving the way she could rile you up. “If I knew any better, I’d think you’re jealous.”

A sharp laugh left your lips. “Jealous? And what am I supposed to be jealous about exactly?”

“I’m not blind,” Ruby cooed your name out, your jaw clenched at the sound of it falling from her lips. “I see the way you look at him when you think no one’s looking.”

“Right,” you drawled out, “Pray tell Ruby, the all knowing demon, how do I look at my friend Sam?” You snarked at the demon standing in front of you.

You were going to be honest with yourself; you had no idea how you looked at Sam anymore. The two of you were close growing up. When you reconnected with him and Dean, but after being AWOL for four months and finding him shacking up with Ruby, any inkling of feelings that you had for Sam that may have been more than platonic had been extinguished. But you’d be damned if you were going to admit that to the demon he was sleeping with.

Ruby chuckled before taking a step closer to you. “Oh please, you’re not very discreet with your small glances or longing looks when his back is turned. I have eyes, you’re just lucky everyone is too wrapped up in themselves to even notice.”

“Or just wrapped up in someone else.” You couldn’t help but mutter under your breath, hoping it was low enough that Ruby couldn’t hear.

“So, you are jealous.” Ruby had that sly grin on her face, and all you wanted to do was wipe it off her face.

You rolled your eyes before scoffing. “The only thing I’m jealous of is everyone else who is sleeping right now.” You kicked off the door frame and walked past Ruby, shoulder-checking her as you made your way to the bed with your bag on it.

Ruby chuckled. “I’m sure you can stay up for a couple of more minutes. Besides, you aren’t that slick when trying to change the subject.”

“Have you ever considered not bothering me?”

“Not when I need your help.”

You threw your head back with a groan escaping your lips. “For the last time, I’m not helping you with your schemes.”

“Who said I was scheming?” You took a glance at Ruby, who had her head cocked to the side.

“You’re a demon, you’re always scheming or lying.” You pointed out as you unzipped your bag, doing anything but looking at Ruby.

“Do you think that lowly of me?”

“Yes.”

Ruby scoffed. “I’m sorry, who was the one who was tortured by Alastair because they knew the location of the rogue angel. Oh, right it was me.”

Your head snapped to stare at her incredulously.“You helping us once doesn’t warrant my trust for a single second.”

“And what about all of the times that I tipped off Sam. Come on, you have to admit that I do help you guys in some way.”

Anger filled your chest as you turned from the bed and quickly rushed at Ruby, grabbing her shoulder and pinning her against the wall—quickly placing your forearm against her windpipe, putting slight pressure against it, but not enough to cut off her air supply.

“I’m only going to say this once so you better listen closely.” You said in a low voice, glaring at the demon in front of you.

“I’m not going to be a pawn in this fucked up game of yours. You may have your claws deep into Sam and feeding him the delusion that you’re helping us, but I know that you have something up your sleeve. I don’t know your endgame, but you better believe I’ll kill you before you even get to reach it.” Your upper lip was threatening to twitch up in a snarl as you glowered down at Ruby.

But all she did was smirk, making the anger boil in your blood. “Didn’t expect you to have some bite to you. Maybe you are just more than a pretty face.”

“Has anyone told you to shut the fuck up?” You glared at her harder as you applied more pressure on her throat.

Ruby let out a breathy laugh. “Sam does and most of the time, he has a pretty creative way of doing it.”

You couldn’t help but flick your gaze down to her plush lips before meeting her brown eyes that were filled with mirth.

“Spare me the details.” You tried not to think about what she was suggesting about her and Sam, but you couldn’t help the spark of arousal that zipped down your spine.

“Are you sure? Because I thought you would love to hear about how he forces me to my knees and makes me choke around his thick cock.” Ruby had a salacious smile pulled on her lips.

“Shut up.” You growled out as you unconsciously leaned closer to her.

“Make me.” She purred. “Or are you-” You quickly shut her up by smashing your lips against hers.

Her lips were soft against yours as the two of you kissed each other fervently and hard. This wasn’t an innocent kiss between two people who liked each other; it was a filthy one meant to show who was in charge and you were winning. You felt her hands fly to your hips, pulling you closer to her body. You moved the arm that was against her neck to grab the nape of her neck as your other hand trailed down to the hem of her shirt.

You nipped at her bottom lip before delving into her mouth, tasting mint and the faintest hint of tequila. Your tongues fought for dominance, but you shoved her harder against the wall with your body, making a small moan escape her lips as you kissed her. Your lips left hers with a string of saliva connecting the two of you before you trailed your lips down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. The hand on her neck joined the other at the hem of her shirt—only detaching from her neck to pull the piece of clothing over her head.

Your hands landed on her bare waist, the temperature of her skin being cooler than you expected it to be, but you paid no mind to it as you started to kiss and nip at her chest, leaving hickies scattered throughout her golden colored skin. Ruby’s hands were pulling at the hem of your tank top. You let her pull it up and off of you, throwing it to the ground before pulling you into another kiss—your bare breasts brushing against her bra-covered chest, making a low moan leave your lips at the feeling of your nipples brushing against the lacey material of it.

Your hands moved up and around to her back to unclasp her bra. Once the straps fell down her arms and onto the ground in between the two of you, you grabbed her hips, pulled her away from the wall, and pushed her down roughly on the bed. You quickly got on top of her, slotting yourself in between her open legs, and kissed her roughly again as one of your hands quickly flicked open the button on the jeans she was wearing. You knew that Ruby could easily overpower you in this position, but she was letting you manhandle her like she couldn’t use her abnormal demon strength to turn the tables.

You shoved your hands down her jeans and underwear, and a low whine escaped her lips when your fingers rubbed over her wet slit.

“Shit, you’re so wet.” You breathed against her lips, having pulled away from her now swollen lips. “Who knew a demon like you got off on arguing, but then again I should have expected it.”

Ruby’s face scrunched up, and right before she could throw back a witty retort, a groan left her lips instead at the feeling of your fingers rubbing circles on her clit. You went back to sloppily kissing at her neck, leaving trails of saliva as your lips moved down her chest and took one of her nipples in your mouth and sucked at the hardened nub. Your free hand kneaded the unoccupied breast—pinching and tweaking her nipple.

Expletives and moans left Ruby’s lips as you sucked at her tits and rubbed at her clit. You stopped rubbing at her clit to shove two fingers into her slick cunt, moaning against her chest as you felt little resistance as your fingers entered her. You bit her nipple, tugging on it with your teeth before letting go of it.

You moved up from her chest, leaving teasing kisses along her skin as you reached her ear. “Look at you moaning like a whore.” You nibbled at her earlobe and chuckled at her, feeling her clench around your digits at the name.

“Oh, you liked that.” You teased her as you tried to locate the spongy spot inside of Ruby—your fingers speeding up as you did. “You like being talked down to like a slut?”

A high-pitched whine left Ruby at your words, clenching again around your fingers as her hips reached to meet each thrust of your fingers. But you stopped your ministrations abruptly, leaving your fingers inside of her warm pussy as you pulled away from her ear, along with most of your body from her to use your free hand to grip the long hairs at the nape of her neck.

“Tell me.” You tug at her hair, another moan escaping her lips as you do, making you smirk at how strung Ruby is for you.

“Fuck.” She groaned out. “Yeah I do. Now are you gonna keep going or do I have to finish myself off?” Ruby managed to snap at you, her cheeks flushed and chest heaving from the noises she was making.

You couldn’t help but smile evilly at the plan that formed in your head at Ruby’s retort. “No, I’ll finish you off. But I have to get my fill first.”

You promptly withdrew your fingers from her heated cunt and swiftly took off your soaked underwear. You grabbed both of Ruby’s wrists and climbed up her body, pinning her wrists with one hand as your naked cunt hovered Ruby’s mouth.

You looked down at her to find her staring hungrily at your slick core. “Make me cum first and I’ll think about finishing you off.” Is what you said to her before lowering yourself down on her face, letting a soft sigh of pleasure leave your lips when you felt her tongue lave over your heated cunt.

“Shit.” You moaned. “I can see why Sam uses your mouth like this, it’s the only thing that it’s good for when you’re not spewing your bullshit.” You managed to say as pleasure filled your veins and your hips rutted against Ruby’s mouth.

Her tongue moved up and down your slit, tasting you for all you were worth before sucking your clit into her mouth, suckling on it before adding more suction to it. A louder moan escaped your lips as you ground your cunt harder down on her mouth.

Ruby wouldn’t ever admit it, but it felt good to be used by you like this. If this meant she’d get one step closer to you helping her, then so be it. But she knew she wasn’t going to be able to hide the arousal that pooled in her underwear at the fact you used her like your personal toy. You weren’t shy about how hard you grinded down on her face. She moved from your clit to thrust her tongue in you—her nose bumping against your swollen clit sent you faster down to tipping over the edge.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good f’me Ruby, eating me out like a good little whore.” You gripped her wrists a little tighter, using your free hand to grip the top of her hair, and pulled at hair there—Ruby groaning at the sting of pain into you, sending vibrations through you.

The motel room was filled with your moaning and groaning as you rode Ruby’s face to oblivion, and you didn’t care how loud you were. Ruby could easily have ripped herself out of your grip, but something in her wanted to submit to you, so she did, letting you use her however you pleased.

Ruby had moved her talented tongue from your cunt and drew your clit into her mouth, and sucked hard on it. It threw you off the edge and into your orgasm. You came hard on her face, your pussy clenching around nothing as pleasure racked your body. She kept sucking on your clit as you came all over her face, wetting her chin and mouth with your slick until you shakily removed yourself from her face and collapsed next to her. Your grip on her wrists fell as you tried to calm yourself from the intensity of your orgasm.

You could hear the rustling of the sheets right next to you but kept your eyes closed as you caught your breath.

Before you could peel your eyes open, you felt cold hands grip your wrists and pin them to the bed. You opened your eyes to find a now naked Ruby hovering over you with a devilish smile on her face, but she didn’t bother cleaning your arousal from her face as she leaned down so her face was close to yours.

“My turn.” Ruby’s lips brushed against yours as she spoke.

From there you knew you were in for a long night.

[join my taglist !; read rules before sending in an ask]

36 notes · View notes

hannahssimblr · 1 day ago

Text

Astrid,

Hope you got my postcard from Phuket, and that the Bangkok one shows up, eventually. Maybe it is actually lost, like maybe I’m doing something wrong at the post office. It’s fine if they all go into the abyss. I am writing just to write, because it feels romantic or whatever. You probably hate the idea of this. I could just text you. I texted you forty-five minutes ago. Still miss you.

We’re in Phi Phi now. Islands, very beautiful. I bet you already know about them, but I’d never heard about this place before I came here. The landscape is kind of mental, like giants made it. Weird to look at. We went out on a little boat yesterday to see the sights. Jonas jumped off and swam, and I did not. My tattoo is still healing. Stupid fucking thing. I waved over a boat of girls and told them Jonas was saying he fancied them, and then he got annoyed with me, because he wasn’t saying that, and he was embarrassed. I think he should learn to talk to women without wanting to die, and he says I think about women too much, that I’m too invested and I should think about something else. History, philosophy, whatever. Why would I when there are women like you on the earth?

At night, instead of going out and drinking, we go to bed early, in our bunks, him on the top, me below like always, and he tells me all this shit about the Suez canal, or what the Falklands war was all about, since I was stupid enough to ask a follow up question once. Then I fall asleep to escape the boredom. We get up at six and do activities, then. Lots of walking. My body hurts.

Jonas finally tried those scorpions he was banging on about, and now he’s sick, btw. Food poisoning. I don’t really know how to take care of him, except coming back to the hostel every few hours, making sure he has water. Until he’s better, I guess I’m just wandering around on my own. Luckily, it’s nice to look at. Maybe today I’ll swim with my arm out of the water. Running out of space. Love and miss you can't wait to see you.

xxx Jude.

I snap open the lid of a bottle of water and carry it into the hostel room. It smells bad there, but I’ve stopped saying it, because it makes Jonas look like he’s about to cry. He’s curled up on his bunk, a complexion like curdled yoghurt, as a chink of morning light spills through the blinds and over his shivering body. Mostly naked. Too hot, then too cold, then sipping water, then throwing it up. I hover in the doorway.

“I’ve water,” I say, and he just stares. Resigned, half-dead, maybe. “Should you go to hospital or something, do you think?”

“No, I feel slightly better.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want the water, or?”

“Yes. Bring it to me.”

I approach him like a leper, not sure why, as I’m fully aware he’s not contagious, but it’s been ten days since I’ve thrown up, and I’d like to maintain my healthy aura. He regards me with bleary eyes as I back away. “It is good you are an artist and not a nurse.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m not so good with illness.”

“Even though you are always ill.” A tentative sip from the bottle. “You went out this morning?”

“To the post office.”

“Another postcard to Astrid.”

“Yes.”

I can tell he wants to laugh but lacks strength, managing only a feeble wheeze. “Is she missing you as much as you are missing her?”

“No, I don’t think so. She’s much better at distance.”

“She’s an independent person.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me what she is doing today.”

“It’s Wednesday, so probably going to reformer pilates. Then she’s supposed to meet a friend from university for lunch. After that, I don’t know. Something spontaneous and thrilling, probably.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

He manages a watery smile. “You’ll be doing nothing again today? Missing her?”

“I was thinking I might wade into the sea, actually. Keep walking out until I disappear, wailing after Astrid like the pathetic little freak I am.”

“It’s Wednesday?”

“Yes, Wednesday.”

“I signed up for something today.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be going, by the cut of you.”

“No,” giving up on the water for now, he rolls onto his back, watching insects congregate around the plastic light fixture. “You could go in my place. It’s a… meditation thing.”

I pull a face. “Meditation? That thing where you sit cross-legged and go like ‘om’?” I demonstrate, but feel bad for making him laugh. Apparently a bit painful for him.

“Yes,” he says. “Kind of. You might find value in it.”

“Is that the kind of guy you think I am? With like, dirty feet and harem pants?”

“Since I am the one who signed up, is it the kind of person you think I am?”

“Not far off.”

“Well, meditation has many benefits. It’s not just for the dirty-feet-squad. It’s good for people who suffer with various mental health concerns, and people who have racing thoughts they cannot stop and such things. Maybe it will inspire you to stop thinking about women’s breasts.”

I scoff. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“So you can think of more productive things that will inform you, and grow your mind rather than rotting it away.”

“Like the Falklands war, for instance.”

“Yes, like the Falklands war,” he says, suddenly animated. “Thank you for saying that. Or the targeting of Libyan migrant workers on suspicion of being mercenaries by—”

I take a brisk and decisive step out of the room. “Well! Glad you’re feeling better, Jonas. See you later. Keep drinking that water, et cetera.” I swing the door shut and amble away, down the hostel hallway and back to the beach, rearing for another day of nothing, bored senseless by the edge of a lonely ocean.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2011 #his COLOUR #i feel a bit sick looking at him actually #feel better soon king

34 notes · View notes

rookinthecrownest · 17 hours ago

Note

17 for the ask game!

17. Rook teaching someone a skill

“It’s alright, Little Dove. Try again”

Madeleina Mercar sits with her daughter, held snuggly in her lap, and watches as blue sparks of magic sputter in and out existence.

Francesca huffs, and Madeleina, knowing her daughter as she does, is picturing the look of frustration on her delicate features although she can’t see her. Her aquiline nose must be scrunched, and thick brows drawn low over doe-like eyes. The blue light emanating from her small hands fades, as they drop into her lap.

Frannie turns to her mother and frowns, her shoulders deflating, “I can’t do it … not like you”

Madeleina runs her hands gently through her pin-straight black hair. One of the many features, both in personality and appearance, she inherited from her father. Lucanis’ little twin, in nearly every way. The best of both of them, Madeleina thinks. After all, the magic bit was all her.

“Ah, little Dove, you’ve only been at this for a few days” Madeleina offers a warm smile and touches her forehead to Frannie’s, reveling her daughter’s warmth. “You’ll get better, you just need more practice”

That only seems to deepen Francesca’s frown as she pulls away from her mother, indignant.

“I’m a mage!” She says, punctuated with the stubbornness of youth. “I should be able to -... to... I don’t know! Make something!”

Then, she lets loose the real crux of the issue next.

“How am I supposed to tell my baby brother stories if I can’t do it like you…”

Madeleina is unable stop herself from letting out a surprised breath. A little part of her had certainly been curious when Francesca barged into their bedroom one night and demanded to know how Madeleina’s illusions work. She had planned on showing her at some point, of course – but wanted to wait until she was a bit older and had a more refined grasp on her magic. When her magic first manifested, she nearly froze their elderly cat, Frupert, into an ice sculpture. Francesca’s control had improved leaps and bounds since then, but it still wasn’t quite perfect and one had to watch for the errant fireball when she was in one of her moods. The singe marks being painted over their estate were proof of that, and the staff had learned to duck quite well as a result. Nonetheless, she was making all the progress she could in her personal instruction of Francesca– making use of her time in the Circle to guide her instruction.

Madeleina smiles warmly and rubs her growing belly, now about four months into pregnancy. Francesca joins the motion and pulls herself into a hug with her mother.

She doesn’t know how long they’ve been sitting there, holding each other, and she’s not sure what prompts her to conjure an illusion, but she does so anyway.

It’s a familiar one – a castle surrounded by four turrets and long, pointed spires. Finely gilded wrought-iron gates bar the entrances. It floats between them for a few moments, and her daughter stares, transfixed by its construction.

“That’s the castle from the Sleeping Princess” Francesca mumbles. “I’ll never be able to make it…”

“Yes, you will. You just need to start with something smaller” Madeleina waves her hand and the castle disappears from existence.

“We use our magic to tap into the Fade and make the real world a little more like the Fade- just for a moment” She explains, putting her arm out in front of her daughter again. It glows with blue light once more. “When I do my magic, I think if it as bringing the stories that live in my heart into the real world, using the Fade as the bridge”

Madeleina holds her daughter closely, and Francesca in turn, nuzzles into her neck.

“Think hard, think carefully about a memory or a story. Something simple, but important to you. Focus on it in your mind’s eye, and then draw on the Fade to make it real”

“Mmm…” Frannie looks hesitant, and Madeleina gently touches their foreheads again and puts a hand on her daughter’s heart.

“Don’t think about it so much in here” She bonks their foreheads together gently and Frannie blinks in confusion. “Think with this” Madeleina puts a finger on her daughter’s chest, where her heart should be, and leans back.

Francesa closes her eyes tightly, balls her fists together, and clenches them tightly until they start glowing blue again. She keeps her eyes closed like she’s searching for something deep in the recesses of her mind.

‘Come on, you can do it’ Madeleina thinks to herself, watching eagerly as the results of her daughter’s efforts start to take shape.

She bites her lip as three amorphous blobs start winding their way into a clumsy existence at the hands of her daughter.

“You’re doing it, Little Dove! Keep going” Madeleina whispers in her ear, and puts a reassuring hand on her back.

Francesca’s eyebrows furrow in concentration. Madeleina restrains a chuckle as she watches Frannie’s tongue stick out of the side of her mouth.

She’s made a few shapes before, but has never sustained something so complicated as a fully formed figure or a building.

Three figures start stretching out and winding back on and collapsing in on themselves. Just when she thinks Francesca’s about to give up, one of them starts taking shape. Slowly, but surely, one of the figures starts to resemble… Lucanis?

It has his widow’s peak, feathered back hair, the beard, the square jaw and handsome features she fell in love with all those years ago. Then, the other blob starts to take on more of her features, for just a moment, before a grunt of effort from Francesca releases the illusion into the Ether once more.

“Agh! Why!” Frannie pounds her fists on her knees and groans, leaning back into Madeleina’s arms and flopping like every ounce of tension from every muscle left her in that exact moment.

Madeleina chuckled and pinched her cheeks. “Little Dove, I’ve been doing this kind of magic for over twenty years. Give yourself time”

“I should be better at it” Frannie huffs again, crossing her arms over her chest.

She certainly has her father’s stubbornness and need for perfection in everything they do.

“You’ll get there, I promise”

A soft knock comes at the door, and a moment later, her husband is peeking through.

“Where are my girls?” Lucanis grins as he comes to stand in the doorway. Francesca, carefully, given Madeleina’s swollen belly, extricates herself from her mother’s grasp and runs quickly to her father. She wraps her arms around his legs and sulks against his finely tailored black trousers.

“I can’t do Mom’s magic like she can” She whines into his pant-leg.

Lucanis chuckles and pats her hair gently. “Few can, my darling girl. But you have the best teacher in all of Antiva – perhaps Thedas.” He gives Madeleina a knowing look, and she can’t help the flush that creeps over her cheeks when he does. All these years, and he still has that effect on her.

He leans down to her level and gently takes hold of her shoulders, the size of his hands dwarfing them, “But you’re going to keep working on it, hm? Because?”

Francesca nods solemnly, “Because I’m a Dellamorte… and we don’t give up”

Lucanis nods, “Good. Now, that’s enough real magic for one night hmm. How about some culinary magic, courtesy of your loving father?”

Francesca beams, “What did you make tonight?”

“Your favourite” He answers, looking rather satisfied with himself.

“Oh- mushroom, seafood and lemon risotto?” Francesca asks hopefully, her green eyes shimmering with excitement.

Lucanis nods and before he can verbally affirm the statement their daughter squeals and starts running down the winding staircase and heading for the west wing of the estate, where the dining room(s) are located.

“She gets that from you” Lucanis jerks his thumb towards Madeleina and smiles.

She rolls her eyes and steadies herself on both hands before pushing up. Lucanis is next to her with inhuman speed and has his arms steadying hers before she’s even fully pushed herself off the floor.

“Take it easy, cara mia” He whispers, leaning close. Madeleina feels that same flush creeping up the back of her neck, and the tips of her ears.

Madeleina, once fully upright, rolls her eyes and ribs him playfully. “I’m fine. You worry worse than a Chantry mother”

Lucanis presses a chaste kiss to her cheek and keeps her encircled in his arms even as she moves to follow their daughter to the dining room.

“Mi Amor, I will spend the rest of my days being eternally grateful that I have you and our children to fret over”

#asks #rook story time #ahhhh this was fun #ty for the ask!!#its definitely helped bust up a little bit of the writer's block #rook #rook mercar #lucanis #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #rookanis #datv

30 notes · View notes

kaulitzily · 2 days ago

Text

They call me Superman

PAIRINGS: Spider-Man Bill 2010 x female reader

GENRE: smut

SYNOPSIS: However, if listen closely, can hear muffled moans, growls and body slaps, resounding smacking, teeth clanking against the piercing iron ball and a quiet, quiet declaration of love.

WARNINGS: forced sex, rough sex, p in v

A/N: english is not my native language! The name doesn't fit the story a bit, because I decided to name it after a song by Superman (Eminem).

The sun was smoothly disappearing into the horizon, spreading the long rays of an orange sunset across, sinking into the sharp corners of skyscrapers, reflecting off glass surfaces and painfully cutting into the eyes with a bright warm light. The streets of London are extremely crowded. Long snakes of cars that stand in endless traffic jams, crowds of people walking outdoors, eating in local bakeries or enjoying the nature of parks.

You were twirling a fresh newspaper in your hands, reading the same headline over and over again. A bold inscription on gray paper reads: “An unknown man in a mask saved our city again! The fight that took place between Spider-Man and Vulture took place in the central clock tower of Big Ben. A lot of damage was done to the building.”

The lines cling to the soul, forcing you to hold your breath for a moment, and then take a deep breath. It was as if there wasn't enough oxygen in your chest, so you went to the panoramic window and opened it wide, letting a cold stream of wind into the apartment. It was already rapidly getting dark outside, the whole of London was in the cold shadow of the night, streetlights alternately began to illuminate the path of passers-by.

You sat down on an armchair, grabbing a color photograph from the coffee table with a masked man who gracefully sat on the roof of one of the buildings. You took this photo a long time ago, but you still didn't dare send it to the press, because it became unpleasant from the realization that this guy would be slandered in the future, as always.

Suddenly, a rustle was heard from the window. You frowned and walked over to him, resting your palms on the windowsill. There was no one there, but your hands slipped, and you almost fell out the window, but someone else's strong arms grabbed you tightly by the waist, pressing your back against your elastic chest. You sighed in surprise, grabbing the savior by the venous hands. Looking down, you saw a dark blue fabric with a strange and rather familiar pattern.. Is that really it?..

A sob escapes from your chest by itself, and you immediately push away from the rescuer. Of course, it was none other than Spider-Man himself. The mesh of the "spider web" on his suit shone beautifully from the light of the street lamps. His sharp features cast bulky shadows, and there was a grin on his plump lips. You stumbled back, eyes wide. There was a photo on the floor that you had been looking at earlier. He squatted down and picked up the photo, letting out a mocking laugh. His gaze was directed entirely at you, and his eyes flashed unkindly.

“It's not a bad photo, is it?” His low voice made me start up. Right now you felt like a real prey in the hands of a predator.

You swallowed hard, a sticky ball of saliva, watching him intently, afraid to move once again.

“Come on, why are you acting like we don't know each other?” A voice came to your ear, and you screamed, recoiling from the hero who suddenly appeared next to you. He laughed and grabbed you by the waist, roughly and closely pressing you against his hot body. And you knew why and why he came to you. After all, it was you who turned him over to the press, photographed him from under the silence and allowed people to slander him. Maybe he's taking revenge like that. Rather, it's not possible, but that's for sure.

You tried your best to resist him, push him away from you and scream with all your might, not sparing your voice, but by doing so, on the contrary, you amused the young man, he laughed and wrapped your long hair around his fist, forcing you to throw your head back. Your heart was pounding, your blood was pounding in your veins, and you were extremely short of breath. Your head was spinning from the imbalance, it felt like it was all unreal, like it was a damn dream. You desperately wanted to push Spider-Man away, but your body was shackled by fear, and you were unable to move. Probably the only thing that kept you from falling was your nocturnal guest, who held your waist and hair tightly.

You silently closed your eyes, squinting and waiting for the subsequent punishment, trying to focus on controlling your own breathing, because at this rate you could easily have hyperventilated your lungs, at least. A strong hand moved higher, circling your chest slowly and gently, massaging your tense shoulders. It seemed to you that his touch left hot traces on your body, burning you to ashes. You felt a whole range of emotions that fell on your fragile shoulders in the form of male hands, but you were distracted from your thoughts by the low voice of the hero.

“Come on, don't be afraid, baby,” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath burning your earlobe. “I really liked your photos. You're probably a professional here, aren't you?” Bill grins, continuing to stroke your girlish shoulders and collarbones with one hand, holding your coiled hair tightly with the other, forcing you to tilt your head to the side, revealing a beautiful, neat neck.

Your body was shaking either from fear or pleasure. Your lips were pursed into a thin line, you finally stopped trying to escape. You began to concentrate on the guy's stinging touches, completely throwing all unnecessary thoughts out of your head. Your body was burning with desire, and you were trembling all over. The young man leads you to a chest of drawers and makes you bend down.

“Look in the mirror. Do you like what you see, mm?“ The hero's low, hoarse voice whispers in your ear, his lips glide over your earlobe and neck, biting and sucking, pulling your thin girlish skin into his mouth.

You stare intently into the reflection, and there you see a brunette who is barely standing on her feet, leaning weakly against the white wood of the chest of drawers, her hair is in disarray, her face is red, and her chest is heaving heavily. Strong, venous hands glide over her chest and waist, smoothly tracing all the curves of her body. He playfully hooks the hem of her T-shirt, unhurriedly lifting it higher, scratching her ribs with his short nails, kissing her neck..

Soon, a T-shirt with a print of some German rock band flies back, by a lucky chance falling neatly on the bed.

“Wow..” A faint chuckle can be heard from the guest. He smoothly outlines the outline of a red lace bra, licks his own lips and plays with the tongue piercing ball, tapping it against his fangs, moving it from side to side. Surely something unthinkable is going on in his head.

He takes out your polaroid camera from somewhere and takes a picture. You immediately start up, perplexed, trying to free yourself from the guy's hands, but he just clicks and thrusts his hips, roughly pushing against your ass, creating an imitation of a push. It made you collapse against a white tree and groan.

Bill, in turn, grins and shakes the photo, making the picture appear. His hand soothingly strokes your thigh, clad in a plaid skirt.

“Well, well, baby.. You have my pictures too, don't you? I'll keep this as a keepsake..” The photo immediately disappears somewhere, and Spider-Man turns all his attention back to you. “Remind me where we're staying..?” he says playfully and abruptly lowers both straps of your bra, making you cry out.

“Shh.. Well, what didn't I see there? Although.. You'll probably look a lot better than the ones I've already seen..” Bill's fingers deftly unfasten the lace element, throwing it away. His lips press against your delicate back skin, biting and licking, making you collapse with your chest against the cold surface of the chest of drawers. The hero slides his hot palms over your bare thighs, crawling under the worthless fabric of skirt, mercilessly scratching the skin of legs, rising higher, higher, higher..

You make a squeak and jump in someone else's arms when calloused fingers touch the most intimate, pushing back the edge of your panties...

You don't even notice how nimble fingers take turns penetrating you, driving deep and rough, contrasting with slow and gentle thrusts. He shamelessly pushes your hot walls apart, doing something incredibly obscene that makes your legs cramp and your knees tremble. His thumb simultaneously caresses the bead of your clitoris in circular movements, forcing you to moan loudly and continuously. Your shoulders were covered with red marks, and Spider-Man was whispering something very vulgar in your ear, constantly touching and squeezing your soft, rounded breasts with his free hand.

Something elastic is openly poking into your lower back, which made your cheeks flush with shame. Bill removes his hand from your chest, hurriedly and impatiently trying to get rid of the belt plaque on the loose cut of his jeans. You decide to help, and putting your hands behind your back, you quickly relieve the young man of the heavy burden of punk jeans. You wrap your manicured hands around him through the fabric of his boxers, and he even chuckled at the interesting contrast of his white underwear and your black nails, but your hand squeezing his cock immediately dispelled all the notes of mischief, from which he throws his head back along with his mohawk, moaning for a long time and stopping the movement of his fingers inside you for a moment. He growls and pulls off his boxers with a jerk, lifting your skirt and leaving a slap on your smooth buttocks, which made you scream. His fingers sloshed out of your warm interior to your disappointed whimper, but something much more substantial immediately rushes in to replace them.

The venous penis of a young man of considerable size fits completely inside you, you whimper and moan, moving your hips, wanting to feel it in action. And Bill lets you. He grabs you roughly by the hips and begins a smooth movement, staring intently at the reflection and grinning.

His organ is engulfed by the unbearable narrowness and warmth of your body, he growls and pushes into you rougher, sharper. You painfully bang your hips against the side of the chest of drawers, and the young man decides to make you arch so that it doesn't hurt so much.

His balls slap against your bulging ass, his fingers leave red marks on your delicate skin, and you whimper, giving back. Bill tilts his head back, crystal clear beads of sweat slowly trickle from his forehead, stroking his sharp cheekbones and jaw, as well as trickling down his clearly visible adam's apple and muscular chest with dark dots of nipples. His abs are tense, and a wild desire arises in the area of his pubis to fuck your soul out. To get back at you for making him look like a villain in front of the whole of London, for daring to take pictures of him from under the silence, for being so fucking beautiful..

He fucks you roughly and continuously, making you scream and squirm, clench your own hands and leave bloody crescents of nails on your palms.

“Oh my God!” You're screaming, clutching Bill's big hand tightly in your hand as he presses his prominent chest against your back. He grins.

“God? Huh.. They usually call me a street bully,” He roughly punches you into a chest of drawers, hissing in your ear through his teeth: “Or a looter, a murderer, a vandal, a monster.” His cock slides a lot harder and deeper, as if trying to get back at you for all the labels they put on him because of your fault. “Do you know who came up with all this? In the next newspaper, should I expect the headlines to say "god" instead of all that filth, huh? Tell me..” Kaulitz's hips are hammering more often, the thrusts are becoming more and more erratic. You come with a deep, long moan, unable to stand this guy's rhythm any longer. He quickly slips out of you, roughly bringing you to your knees.

“Will you apologize properly, baby?” Bill gently strokes your head, pushing you, who has not yet had time to recover from orgasm, into action. You obediently open your mouth, ready to take it completely. Your hot tongue slides over the flushed head of his cock, collecting the remnants of your own semen. You play with the tip of your tongue on his urethra, making him moan loudly and squeeze your hair. You circle his venous penis, not missing a single irregularity, passing deeper into your hot narrow throat. Bill licks his lips, shaking convulsively. He wrapped your long hair in his fist and began to roughly fuck your mouth, moving his hips. You stroke his thighs, scratch with your long nails, take him deeper.

After a couple of deep thrusts, Spider-Man pours into your mouth, looks at you through his fox squint from top to bottom, arrogantly watching as you swallow everything without a trace, finally running your tongue along his entire length, collecting the remaining layer of semen on the surface.

“Good girl..” He breathes heavily and swallows the saliva that has accumulated in his mouth, picks you up by the hair and kisses you wetly, deeply and passionately, after a while he pulls away and grins. “What about the second round?”

The sun has long since disappeared into the horizon, spreading the long rays of an orange sunset across, drowning in the sharp corners of skyscrapers, reflecting off glass surfaces and painfully cutting into the eyes with a bright warm light.

The streets of London are completely empty.

There are no longer those long snakes of cars that stood in endless traffic jams, there are no crowds of people who walked in the fresh air, eating in local bakeries or enjoying the nature of parks. Everything was replaced by bright signs of clubs and restaurants, light from the windows of multi-storey apartments and the rays of a large yellow moon. Fast motorcycles and the sound of water from fountains can be heard on the street. However, if listen closely, can hear muffled moans, growls and body slaps, resounding smacking, teeth clanking against the piercing iron ball and a quiet, quiet declaration of love.

#tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz #gustav schäfer #georg listing #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz fanfic #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x you

30 notes · View notes

thebunnednun · 2 days ago

Text

Toast 6.

Pairing: Aged up!ProHero!Katsuki Bakugou x Ex!Pro hero!Reader x Best friend!Pro Hero!Hitoshi Shinsou

Katsuki has competition for you and his daughter.

Chapter 6: Park Party

You meet with Katsuki for your grandmothers will, He and bestie Hitoshi get into a fight, and your daughter Asuna almost dies. Plus, you get arrested! :D Good day huh?

Music:

1.Like Him 2.Me and your Mama 3.Fight night 4.Nightmare

Special shout out's to @rosaline756 who is sick AND @elarakive who is the inspo behind our manager. Also to @1chaerry for being lovely.

Her head whipped around to see Rumi and Eri approaching from behind. Katsuki glanced up at the sound, his face flushed as he quickly diverted his gaze. Eri, looking slightly apologetic, gave her a reassuring smile.

“See, she’s fine!” Rumi called out, her voice carrying over the park's bustle.

Rumi’s expression softened as her gaze flicked to the pair Asuna was with. Once she spotted Katsuki, her eyes narrowed, then widened in recognition, and a brief but friendly exchange passed between him and Rumi.

“Where have you been?” Rumi asked, her tone tinged with concern.

Asuna shrugged, passing Eri the soda. Eri took it from her with a grateful smile. “I had to use the bathroom and got caught up talking to Crybaby,” Asuna explained casually, brushing off the awkwardness of the situation.

Rumi squinted at her suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. “You took that long to use the bathroom?” she asked, though she agreed after a moment. “Guess we got worried when you disappeared like that.”

Just then, Katsuki’s eyes scanned the park, and he noticed you chatting with some of the other mothers. He straightened up, preparing to leave. "See you," he said to everyone, his gaze locking on Asuna again as he spoke.

“Bye, Asuna,” he added, his voice softer now.

Asuna smiled and nodded. “Thanks for the almonds,” she replied, watching as he turned and made his way toward the exit. After Katsuki disappeared into the crowd, Asuna’s face lit up with a sudden, unexpected energy.

“I want to play hide and seek,” she announced enthusiastically.

Rumi blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden change of subject.

“Hide and seek?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion.

Asuna nodded, grinning. “It’ll only be fun if we get to hide from a real pro hero,” she added, her eyes glinting with excitement.

Rumi chuckled, a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re right, that does sound fun.” She paused, glancing at Eri, and then gave Asuna a stern look. “But don’t go too far. Same goes for you, Eri.” The two girls nodded eagerly in agreement, and Rumi, after a deep breath, began to count aloud, her voice booming over the sound of the bustling park.

Asuna and Eri darted off as quietly as they could, weaving through the crowds before slipping behind a nearby tree. Asuna, finally feeling like she had a moment of peace, turned to Eri, her expression serious now. “I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I want to get closer to mom and hear what they talk about—especially you know who.”

Eri raised an eyebrow but nodded slowly. “If that’s what you need, I’m down to help. We just can’t get caught,” she whispered back, a mischievous spark in her eye.

Asuna grinned, teasing her. “Oh, so now you’ve got a cheeky streak in you, huh?”

Eri smirked back. “I’m always down for helping you out,” she said, sounding more confident than she usually did.

"Let's just make sure Rumi doesn’t catch us."

The girls scrambled out of the tree and each popped an earbud in their ears, calling each other on their phones to stay in touch while they split up. Asuna glanced over her shoulder at Eri, offering a low warning.

“Stay sharp, Rumi can be unpredictable.”

“And she hears everything!”

It was nearing 12:30 when you prepared to leave, the weight of the conversation with the other mothers lingering in the air. You were just about to turn to gather your things when you heard your name being called.

You froze.

‘Oh, God.’

You know that voice—

You turned, your heart sinking. Of all the times for him to show up.

The other mothers in the group instantly went quiet, eyes widening as they saw him—a towering figure, blonde hair tousled, his muscular build making his presence undeniable. He was easily 6’4, with broad shoulders and intense red eyes that seemed to cut through the crowd as he walked straight toward you.

“Oh!” one of the mothers exclaimed, her voice full of awe. “Wow, he’s a looker, isn’t he?” The comment sent a flutter through your stomach, something unfamiliar pulling at your chest. You quickly shook off the feeling, mentally snapping back into reality. ‘ Calm down,’ you told yourself. He was just here to drop off pictures. That’s it. Just business. ‘ Rita’s will.’ Nothing else.

‘Are those new piercings?’

You kept your posture composed, the slight upward curve of your lips revealing none of the inner chaos sparked by Katsuki’s sudden appearance. As he approached, the wind caught his hair, making it tousle just slightly, and the taut fit of his winter uniform even with the jacket thrown on highlighted every curve of his muscular frame. His presence alone had a gravitational pull, drawing attention effortlessly.

One of the mothers beside you let out a surprised gasp, her voice tinged with curiosity and excitement.

“I didn’t know he was your husband!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with awe.

The word “ husband ” stopped your brain in its tracks.

For a moment, all thought ceased as you stared blankly ahead. Your mouth opened, a correction poised on your tongue, but no sound came out. The group had gone silent, and their gazes had shifted upward. Slowly, you turned, catching sight of him.

Katsuki.

He nodded in greeting, his sharp eyes meeting yours briefly before sweeping over you. He seemed to drink in every detail, his expression unreadable but his gaze unwavering.

He stood just a few feet away, watching you intently. The way your coat wrapped around you, snug but stylish, gave you a sleek silhouette that made him take a second glance. Your braids were freshly redone, each one pristine and framing your face in a way that made his heart beat a little faster. The boots on your feet looked both practical and chic, hugging your calves in a way that he found annoyingly captivating.

Then there was your lip gloss—wine-colored, glistening even under the cold, grey sky. It seemed to defy the dreary weather, standing out against the neutral tones of the park. He found himself fixated, his eyes lingering longer than they should. The rest of your makeup was light, subtle, but it enhanced the natural warmth of your features. Or maybe it was just your eyes.

There was something about the way they flickered, soft and warm, that made him feel strangely entranced.

He couldn’t help but notice a faint pink tinge on your cheeks and nose, likely from the chill in the air, though part of him liked to imagine it was something else—something his presence might have caused. He knew it wasn’t possible; your quirk didn’t allow for it. Still, the idea of it made his chest tighten in a way that was both irritating and exhilarating.

You always had this effect on him, though he’d never admit it.

The way you held yourself, so calm and collected on the outside, made him want to know what was beneath that surface. And today, in this cold park, with the lingering scent of roasted almonds in the air and the subtle hum of Christmas lights flickering in the distance, he found himself drawn to you once again.

Katsuki isn’t speaking, but his eyes are busy. They flicker between the photos, you, and the distant spot where he last saw Asuna. His gaze lingers on you, absorbing every detail—the way your sweats hug you perfectly, the subtle glow of your eyes, the delicate beauty of your lips. Time hasn't stopped for you, and he can see it in every nuance of your appearance, every quiet moment captured in the pictures between you.

Katsuki isn’t speaking, but his eyes tell you the truth.

They drift between the photo album resting on your lap, the way you sit beside him, and the direction where he last saw Asuna. His gaze settles on you, lingering on the curve of your cheek, the gloss of your lips, the freshness of your braids. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, as though he’s trying to memorize every detail, to capture this moment and hold it close.

Time hasn’t stopped for you, and Katsuki can feel its passage in every quiet glance, every unspoken word between you.

You glance up and catch him looking.

Something flickers across your face—hesitation, maybe, or the weight of something you’re not sure how to share. Katsuki knows you too well to miss it. He sees the slight furrow of your brow, the way your fingers trace the edges of the album, and he knows something’s on your mind. You can feel his gaze, heavy with concern and curiosity, and the silence between you stretches, taut and trembling.

“ Uh ,”

“ I –,”

Both of you move to speak at once, your words tangling in the air. You stop, laugh softly at the awkwardness of it, and gesture for him to go first. He shakes his head, lips pressing into a thin line.

"No, you go," he says, voice low, rough around the edges. You meet his eyes, a silent conversation passing between you, and in the end, you both pause, hesitant.

Katsuki breaks the stalemate with a frustrated growl, running his hands through his hair before slouching down to meet you at eye level. His expression softens, the tension in his shoulders easing as he tries to find the right words.

"I didn’t mean to push your boundaries last night," he says, his tone sincere, even if a little rough.

"But everything else I said...it still stands."

You nod, taking a steadying breath. "It’s been too many years to keep going like this," you reply, your voice soft but firm. Your thumb brushes over the edge of the next page in the album, the decision to tell him about Asuna weighing heavily on your mind. Not yet, you think. You need to talk to her first, to make sure she’s ready before you share this with him. The thought brings a pang of anxiety, but you push it down for now.

You flip the page, and the sight that greets you steals your breath.

The photograph captures a candid moment of you and Katsuki seated on the front steps of Rita's house.

The sun bathes the scene in a warm, golden glow, casting soft shadows that add depth to the image. Both of you are mid-laugh, the kind of laughter that comes from a shared joke or a funny mishap, your faces illuminated with unguarded joy. Katsuki's usual sharp features soften, his smile wide and genuine, while your eyes sparkle with happiness, the two of you caught in a moment that feels untouched by the world’s worries.

The series of pictures that follow tells a story of your shared journey. In one, Rita stands in the kitchen, her hands guiding Katsuki as he attempts to recreate your favorite meal. His brows are furrowed in concentration, a stark contrast to the satisfied grin he flashes once Rita pats his shoulder in approval. You can almost hear the cursing and smell the familiar scents wafting from the stovetop.

Another photo shows the two of you back-to-back before a school dance, dressed in your finest. Katsuki’s suit fits him perfectly, his usual scowl replaced with a slight smile. Your dress flows elegantly, his accessories made to match your attire. Both of you are looking over your shoulders, the excitement and anticipation of the night ahead captured perfectly in your matching grins.

You flick your eyes and the next photo is perhaps the most heartwarming of all. It's from a Christmas spent together, surrounded by the warmth of family. The two of you are sprawled out on the floor, amidst a sea of wrapping paper and ribbons.

The TV is tuned to an American Christmas movie about burglary, the fireplace is well lit and devoid of stockings. Rita has a cup of coffee steaming on the side table, her glasses hanging from her neck while she takes a shot with Mitsuki, who is on the couch wrapped up in Masura’s favorite blanket, while he handles the camera.

You are nestled inside a large box, a playful smile on your sleeping face, as if the box is the coziest bed in the world. Katsuki sits nearby, his gaze fixed on you, a softness in his eyes that rarely surfaces. It’s a look of contentment, of quiet admiration. Unbeknownst to him, the camera captures the moment he leans in slightly, his expression one of pure adornment before he’s caught in the act.

That Christmas.

The warmth of the fire, the laughter that filled the room, the sense of belonging that felt so fragile and yet so real. The memories are vivid, each image stirring a mix of nostalgia and longing. The next page shows a group photo of the whole family, including you and Rita, all smiles and togetherness. The happiness in that picture feels like a world away from where you are now, and the weight of it hits you hard.

Tears well up, unbidden, and you blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay. But the memories, the emotions—

They’re too much to hold back.

Katsuki notices.

His hand reaches out, hesitating for a moment before resting gently on yours. The warmth of his touch grounds you, and when you look up, you see that same weight mirrored in his eyes. He’s thinking about it too—the time that’s passed, the things left unsaid, the moments you can’t get back. He’s thinking about Asuna, about you, about the family you once dreamed of having.

You can feel the unspoken question hanging in the air, the one you’re both too afraid to voice.

Where did the time go?

And can you ever find your way back?

Katsuki's heart is pounding like a war drum as he stares at you, watching the tears roll down your cheeks. His mind races, every instinct screaming at him to do something—anything—to take away your pain. He clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palms before muttering a soft,

" Fuck it ."

He drops to his knees in the grass in front of you, his hands reaching out tentatively before cupping your face. His warm thumbs, surprisingly soft and gentle despite the callouses from years of training, begin to wipe away your tears. His touch is hesitant but tender, as if he's afraid of breaking you.

"Stop," you whisper, trying to pull back, your voice trembling.

"I don't want to cry here... not in front of—"

But before you can finish, you're enveloped in a solid warmth, Katsuki's strong, muscular arms wrapping around you. He pulls you close, his grip firm yet comforting, like he's afraid you'll slip away if he lets go. You feel the wetness of his tears falling onto your scalp, and the slight tremor in his body tells you that he’s crying too.

The realization hits you like a wave—

Katsuki Bakugo, the man who rarely showed vulnerability, is breaking down with you.

Again.

You hesitate, your body stiffening for a moment as you wrestle with the propriety of this public display, with the weight of everything that’s happened: The villain attacks, the memory of holding Rita’s hand as she passed, the countless hours spent as a hero, and the challenge of raising Asuna.

It’s been so much, too much, and you’ve held it together for so long.

But your heart, your exhausted, battered heart, has had enough.

It craves the comfort of this moment, the safety in Katsuki’s arms.

With a shaky breath, you let go of the restraint you’ve clung to for so long. Your arms wrap around his broad back, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket as you press yourself closer to him. The dam breaks, and you allow yourself to sob, the sound muffled against his chest.

Katsuki holds you tighter, his own tears mixing with yours as the weight of years spent apart, the missed chances, the unspoken words—all of it—comes crashing down. His hand cradles the back of your head, the other resting on your back, his fingers splayed out as if anchoring you to him.

You both cry, your tears mingling with the chill in the air, but for once, the cold doesn’t matter. The world fades away, leaving just the two of you, connected in this raw, unfiltered moment of shared grief and long-buried affection.

He never did stop loving you. How could he? Even through all the years apart, that love lingered, simmering beneath the surface, unspoken but always present. And in a way, you never stopped loving him either. How could you? Katsuki helped give you the most precious part of your life—your best friend for life. The thought sends a pang through your heart, a reminder of something important.

“Oh, shit ,” you whisper, your mind racing.

"Asuna ."

You sniff and turn your face up toward Katsuki, who’s looking at you with a mixture of concern and something softer—the fucking face that makes your heart ache.

Before you can react, he reaches for the hem of his shirt and uses it to gently wipe your nose.

The unexpected gesture makes you blink, your cheeks heating as you catch a glimpse of his well-defined abs. The sight is brief, but it lingers in your mind, reminding you how long it’s been since you’ve really noticed someone like that.

Sure, Mina dragg’s you out to clubs, and you’d gone to Class 1-A’s get-togethers to keep up appearances. But it wasn’t the same. The casual flings and fleeting attractions never filled the void.

Even the times you’d helped Hitoshi with his laundry brought a sense of familiarity, but not the spark you felt now.

You blink hard, trying to shake off the thoughts of Hitoshi.

This moment was about you and Katsuki, not the tangled mess of your other best friend asking weird questions.

Wind picks up, rustling the trees around the park, sending leaves spiraling through the air. Both of you react instinctively, grabbing the binders and photo albums before they can scatter. You stuff them back into Katsuki’s bag with hurried hands, both of you laughing softly at the urgency.

"Here," Katsuki says, offering you the bag. His voice is firm but gentle, his eyes locked on yours.

You start to protest, shaking your head. “I can’t—”

“Yeah you can,” he cuts you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hands linger on the bag for a moment longer before letting go, and you feel the weight of it, not just physically but emotionally.

You accept it with a small nod, glancing down at the bag. A flicker of curiosity prompts you to unzip the pocket and pull out a binder, the one with the freeze-lock.

It really is Rita’s will, intact and pristine.

A wave of emotion washes over you as you thumb through the pages, the reality of it crashing on you.

You close the binder and slip it back into the bag, zipping it closed with a sigh. For a moment, the two of you sit in silence, the distant chatter of children playing blending with the rustle of leaves and the hum of traffic in the background.

"I need to return your jacket from last night," you say, breaking the quiet.

Katsuki blinks, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion for a moment before realization dawns. He’d forgotten you still had his jacket.

“ ’S fine,” he replies, his voice low and soft. “Keep it, long as you need.”

The simple offer carries more weight than you expected, and you find yourself considering again, a small, grateful feeling tugging at your heart. You glance around, noticing the park beginning to clear as parents gather their children, the chill in the air growing sharper with the time going on.

You look back at Katsuki, his gaze steady on you, and he knows you have to say something more.

You glance up at Katsuki, your thoughts swirling with everything you want to say but can’t quite find the words for.

"Can we walk?" you ask softly. "It helps me think. There's... stuff I want to say."

Katsuki’s eyebrows rise in surprise, but he quickly nods. Without hesitation, he stands up and holds his hands out to you. For a brief second, you think about getting up on your own, but before you can act, he effortlessly lifts you to your feet.

It’s so easy for him, like you weigh nothing at all.

The sensation floods you with memories

Training sessions where he’d lift you without breaking a sweat, missions where he’d toss you into the air with perfect precision, the times he carried you on his shoulder and ran headlong into the ocean just for fun.

You even remember that chaotic night when Denki got everyone in trouble with the cops, and Katsuki hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes to make a quick escape.

Or that one ill-advised mission to break into Aizawa’s apartment for a surprise birthday party, which, unsurprisingly, did not go over well with the man himself.

Each memory rushes through you in a dizzying wave, grounding you in the present as you find yourself standing on your own two feet. Katsuki slings the bag over his shoulder, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with a quiet intensity.

"Where to?" he asks, his voice steady, a soft contrast to the tumultuous thoughts in your mind.

You glance around, taking in the park around you—the way the golden light filters through the trees, casting long shadows across the grass. The air is cool, the distant sound of traffic mingling with the rustle of leaves. It’s peaceful in a way that makes the weight in your chest a little lighter.

"Just... around," you say finally, motioning toward the winding path that leads out of the park.

"Let’s just walk for a bit."

Katsuki gives a slight nod and falls into step beside you, his presence comforting in its familiarity. The two of you walk in silence for a while, the only sounds are the crunch of gravel beneath your feet and the soft rustling of leaves.

Every so often, you catch him glancing at you, his expression unreadable, yet there’s something in his eyes that makes your heart ache in a way that’s both painful and soothing.

As you walk, the words you’ve been struggling to find begin to form, the weight of what you want to say pressing more heavily with each step.

The afternoon sun filters through the trees, casting dappled patterns across the path. The silence between you is easy, comfortable, filled with the lingering echoes of shared history.

Katsuki breaks the quiet first, his voice low but warm. "Did you get home safe last night?"

"Yeah," you reply, glancing over at him. "Thanks for asking. What about you?"

He shrugs, his usual nonchalant air tempered by the softness in his tone. "Crashed at Kirishima's condo."

You nod, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I miss the big guy. He’s always been the best. So respectful and such a positive influence. I’m glad he's around for the younger generation."

Katsuki’s lips quirk into a faint grin at the mention of his closest friend. "Yeah, he’s a good guy."

As you walk past a cluster of trees, you remain blissfully unaware of the two little spies hiding just out of sight. Eri, twenty but still petite enough to blend in as a teen, peers out from behind a thick trunk.

Her long hair is tucked into a knitted beanie lined with a soft, slinky fabric, effectively disguising her. She watches you both with wide, curious eyes, biting her lip to suppress a noise. From her vantage point, she can barely contain her excitement.

Above, Asuna moves through the branches with practiced ease, her movements silent and precise thanks to her training with Shinsou.

She perches on a sturdy limb, her sharp eyes focused on you and Katsuki as you stroll along the path. The rustling leaves mask her presence as she keeps a close watch. Her heart pounds with anticipation, the thrill of sneaking around amplified by the mission at hand.

She flicks away a message from Shinsou asking why she dropped her location without context. His apartment is on the other side of the city, but her focus is here, on you.

"Do you hear anything? " Eri whispers, her gaze darting between the couple below and the large bunny-eared woman who’s scanning the park with a determined expression.

"Not yet ," Asuna responds, her voice barely a breath as she inches closer, her eyes narrowing in concentration. " I’m getting closer. "

Below, Rumi strides through the park, her sharp gaze sweeping across the playground. She peers into the playhouses, her presence immediately drawing the attention of a group of children. They swarm her, giggling and shouting excitedly as they try to climb her, their small hands grasping at her arms and legs.

"Can I have your autograph!?" one child squeals.

"Can you jump really high?" another asks, eyes wide with admiration.

Rumi chuckles, her usual fierce demeanor softened by the enthusiasm of the kids. She ruffles a few heads and signs autographs with a smirk, though her eyes never stop scanning the area, looking for any sign of the two mischief-makers she knows are hiding somewhere.

As you and Katsuki continue your walk, the sounds of laughter and playful screams fill the air, blending with the rustling leaves and distant hum of the city. The warmth of the sun contrasts with the cool breeze, creating a perfect harmony that seems to settle over the park.

Despite the serene surroundings, there’s a sense of anticipation in the air, a silent countdown ticking toward an inevitable reunion that neither you nor Katsuki are quite prepared for.

Katsuki's voice cuts through the tranquil park air, his words laced with curiosity. "Asuna's an interesting kid," he comments, his tone thoughtful.

You glance at him, the hint of a smile playing on your lips. "What makes you say that?"

He shifts the bag on his shoulder, his gaze fixed ahead.

"Had a conversation with her. She’s got a sharp mind. Quick wit. Reminds me of someone."

Your brows furrow, piecing together the timeline. You think back to yesterday. She mentioned running into some of your friends at the convenience store.

Katsuki continues, his face softening. "Yeah, nosey as all shit. She’s got this energy about her. Like she’s always thinking, always a step ahead."

Your heart warms at the mention of Asuna, a silent guilt swelling within you. You wonder how she’s faring with Rumi right now, considering texting the rabbit hero to check in. But before you can pull out your phone, Katsuki’s next question freezes you mid-step.

"So... how’d firefly get her eyes that color?"

The question is simple, but it hits you like a punch to the gut from All Might. Your foot catches on an uneven part of the path, and for a split second, gravity takes over.

Before you can hit the ground, Katsuki’s hands are on you, steady and sure, pulling you upright with ease.

" Watch where you're going ," he chides, his voice gruff but concerned. "City hasn't been listening to me about evening out this damn park."

You huff, brushing off the moment as best you can. "Thanks for the save."

"Don’t thank me," he mutters, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

Above you, hidden among the branches, Asuna watches the exchange with bated breath. She almost called out, her heart leaping into her throat, but the scarf over her mouth muffles any sound. Eri nudges her from the earbuds, silently urging her to stay quiet, their mission far from over.

You clear your throat, steadying yourself. "Her eyes are from her father. It’s hereditary."

Katsuki, in the midst of adjusting his boots, nearly trips at your words. His eyes widen as he stumbles, and you’re quick to grab his arm, pulling him back before he can fall.

"Careful," you say, the irony of the situation not lost on you. "You good?"

His expression shifts, concern etched into his features. "I wanted to ask if—" He hesitates, searching for the right words. "If her father... did he hurt you? Is that why you don’t wanna talk about it?"

The air grows heavy between you, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down. You take a breath, the familiar mix of dread and other emotions swirling into a potent cocktail in your chest. "Not exactly," you begin, but he’s already leaning closer, his eyes sharp and intense.

"It’s black and white," he insists. "Either yes or no."

You wave him off, walking a few steps ahead, the distance between you feeling like an insurmountable chasm. "It’s not that simple when you’re in love."

His footsteps falter, and when you turn, his face is a storm of emotions, his hands clenched in his pockets.

"You were in love with him?"

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves and carrying the sounds of the park around you.

Children’s laughter, the chatter of passing couples, the distant hum of traffic—all of it fades into the background as you lock eyes with Katsuki. His spiky hair is pushed back by his mask, and your braids snap upwards in the gust, creating a tableau of tension and unresolved feelings.

For a moment, the space between you feels like an entire universe, the weight of eight Jupiters pressing down. You see it in his eyes—the belief that he had been your only. The realization hits you like a tidal wave, threatening to pull you under.

Both of you could stand a million miles apart and it would still be closer.

Anger flickers at the edges of your thoughts, but it’s quickly doused by you acknowledging the hope that he hasn’t been creeping around town either. This conversation is harder than you ever imagined, the words caught in your throat, the memories threatening to overwhelm.

"You need love to make a baby, not just sex," you snap, the words leaving your mouth before you can filter them.

"I think other people would beg to differ," Katsuki retorts, his voice laced with frustration.

You both stand there, the tension crackling like static in the air. Katsuki sighs, his brows furrowed as he takes a step after you.

"Wait!" he calls out, his tone softer but no less insistent.

You pause, looking back at him, your expression guarded. His hand reaches out, catching the sleeve of your jacket, tugging lightly to keep you in place. His crimson eyes meet yours, filled with something you can’t quite name—earnestness, perhaps.

"I honestly just want to know," he admits, his voice low, almost pleading.

"Why?" you ask, the question hanging in the air between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Katsuki’s throat tightens, that familiar, uncomfortable feeling rising within him. It’s the same sensation he gets when he wants to say something important but fears hurting you.

"I get it," he begins, his gaze falling to the ground. "I understand that you and me—we’re over. I shouldn’t linger on it. But..." He looks up, his expression raw and open in a way you rarely see.

"You were the only person I’ve ever been with. The only woman I’ve known. So, from the bottom of my heart, I want to know... Is Asuna—"

"Long time no see, huh?"

Both of you whip around at the sound of the familiar sultry voice, eyes widening in surprise.

There, striding towards you with the casual ease of a cat, is Hitoshi Shinsou.

"Hitoshi!" you call out, your voice filled with genuine surprise and a touch of relief.

Shinsou approaches, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he takes in the scene. His cool, collected demeanor is accentuated by his laid-back outfit—a dark purple tee peeking out from under a long, white thermal shirt, an oversized black coat draped over his frame.

His baggy blue jeans hang loose, a chain glinting in the sunlight with every step he takes. His usual five piercings catch the light, the small silver hoops and studs adding a subtle edge to his appearance.

A knitted cat ear beanie, deep violet and snug on his head, is the most telling feature, Eri’s handiwork, a gift she had made with care. His nails are still painted black, remnants of the day Asuna had experimented with new colors on him. Around his neck is a thick flannel scarf, a mismatch against his typically coordinated outfits.

You recognize it instantly—it’s the one you gave him, a rare splash of warmth in his otherwise dark wardrobe.

Katsuki’s gaze shifts from Shinsou’s nonchalant figure to his hands, his grip on your sleeve tightening slightly.

"What’s behind yer back?" Katsuki asks, his tone guarded, suspicious.

Shinsou’s smirk widens as he pulls his arms from behind him, revealing a bouquet of flowers.

The assortment of blooms is vibrant, the colors rich and varied, a stark contrast to the muted tones of his attire. He holds them out to you with a small flourish, his eyes meeting yours with a twinkle of amusement.

"For you," he says simply, the words carrying an unexpected weight.

You stare at the bouquet, momentarily taken aback.

The tension that had been suffocating moments before dissipates slightly, replaced by a confusing mix of emotions. Around you, the park continues in its lively rhythm—children’s laughter echoes from the playground, joggers pass by with the rhythmic thud of their feet against the path, and the rustling of leaves provides a soothing backdrop.

You take the bouquet, fingers brushing against Shinsou’s as you do.

"Thank you," you say softly, the gesture both surprising and comforting.

Katsuki’s eyes narrow slightly, watching the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and judgement, something he can’t quite place or doesn’t want to acknowledge.

Asuna, still hidden above in the branches, watches the scene unfold with wide eyes, her breath caught in her throat. Eri urges her again, a silent reminder to stay still, though her own curiosity is piqued by the unexpected appearance of Shinsou and the bouquet.

The wind picks up again, carrying the scent of the flowers between you, a brief pause in the whirlwind of emotions swirling around. And in that moment, with Shinsou standing cool and confident, Katsuki bristling with unspoken questions, and you holding the bouquet in your hands, the delicate balance between the past and present teeters, waiting to tip one way or the other.

Katsuki's jaw tightened, his grip on your sleeve loosening only to clench his fists at his sides. His voice, usually controlled despite its rough edges, began to rise.

"So, what? You just happen to be around, playing delivery boy? You always this much of a pain in the ass, or is today special?"

Shinsou’s smirk widened, his expression one of pure amusement.

"Relax, Bakugou. Not everything's about you," he said smoothly, his eyes flicking lazily over to you and back to Katsuki.

"But hey, if you want to make it about you, by all means, be my guest."

Katsuki’s face reddened, the vein in his temple visibly pulsing.

"Ya think this shit is funny?" His voice was low, dangerous, every word a growl. "You don’t know when to shut yer fucking mouth, do ya?"

Shinsou shrugged, nonchalant. "Only when it’s worth shutting up for. And right now? Not really seeing the point." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a mocking whisper.

"Still the same, huh? Sixteen-year-old with anger issues cosplaying as a hero."

Katsuki’s teeth ground together audibly, and before you could intervene, his body tensed, his stance shifting forward.

"You wanna do this right here? Or ya wanna take this somewhere else?" he snapped, eyes blazing with the intensity of an imminent explosion.

"Stop it!" you shouted, stepping between them, but neither seemed to hear you, their gazes locked in a deadly stand-off.

Just as you prepared to use your quirk to separate them, your phone buzzed in your pocket, the vibration jolting you slightly. You stepped back, pulling it out and glancing at the screen—Rumi’s contact flashing in bold letters. With a frustrated sigh, you answered, retreating a few more steps to hear her over the escalating tension.

"Hey," Rumi’s voice came through, sharp but concerned. "Everything okay?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but above you, Asuna leaned in closer, trying to catch every word of the brewing argument below. Eri’s panicked voice buzzed through the comm in Asuna’s ear.

"Rumi already caught me! I can’t stall anymore! Dad’s calling!" Eri’s whisper was frantic, almost shaking with nerves.

"Asuna?" you muttered under your breath, your heart sinking further. Meanwhile, Rumi’s voice grew more insistent. "What’s going on? Is Asuna with you?"

"No, she’s—" your words cut off as you saw Katsuki finally snap.

"Go fuck yourself, Shinsou."

Katsuki spat, stepping forward, fists ready to fly. Hitsohi, for his part, only raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his face never faltering.

"Touched a nerve, did I?" he drawled, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "You’ve got a lot of sensitivity left for someone who’s supposed to be a pro, Bakugou."

Before the situation could spiral any further, two figures sprinted into view—

Kirishima, his broad frame instantly recognizable, and Mina, her pink hair flying wildly as she ran.

"Whoa, whoa! Cool it, guys!" Kirishima shouted, inserting himself between Katsuki and Shinsou, his hands up in a placating gesture.

"What’s going on here?"

Mina grabbed Shinsou by the arm, pulling him back with surprising strength. "Seriously, chill out! What are you, five?" she chided, though her voice was more concerned than scolding.

Katsuki did NOT want to fucking see Mina right now.

As the tension began to wane under their intervention, another figure appeared—

Rumi.

Sprinting toward you all, her expression set in grim determination. Slung over her shoulder, Eri clung tightly, her wide eyes darting between the adults in panic. Rumi skidded to a halt, setting Eri down gently before straightening.

"Glad everyone’s here," she panted, though her tone was far from relieved.

"Why?" Katsuki asked, his brows knitting together in confusion.

"Asuna’s missing."

The words hit like a bomb, the weight of them sinking into the air around you all.

You felt your legs weaken as the color drained from your face. Tears welled up in your eyes, streaming down your cheeks before you could even register or stop the motion. Frantically, your fingers fumbled with the phone in your hand, the one linked to Asuna’s tracker. But as you accessed the interface, a cold realization hit you—it wasn’t responding.

The tracker wasn’t on her.

It was on you.

"No... no , no , no ," you whispered, panic clawing at your chest.

Katsuki and Shinsou froze, the gravity of Rumi’s words pulling them out of their animosity. Both of their faces paled, their expressions shifting from anger to pure, unadulterated fear.

"Asuna’s missing?" Katsuki’s voice was strained, his eyes wide with horror.

Shinsou’s usually calm demeanor cracked, a flicker of panic crossing his features.

"What do you mean, missing?" he demanded, stepping forward.

“I mean I haven’t seen the kid in over two hours and she isn’t picking up her damn phone!”

Everyone else seemed to fade into the background as the realization hit home.

The park, once bustling with life, now felt eerily quiet, the distant sounds of city life drowned out by the pounding of your heart. For a moment, time stood still, the weight of Asuna’s absence pressing down on all of you like a suffocating blanket.

Your chest tightened, each breath shallower than the last as your mind raced, thoughts spiraling into a storm of fear and self-recrimination.

The hug —The way Asuna had clung to you before you left.

Her smile —So carefree as she sprinted past the gates and into the building.

The unfinished conversation about her father lingered in your mind like a haunting echo.

Was that the last time you would see her?

The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea surging through you.

‘Is this happening because of me? ’

The question tore at your heart. Your failures as a mother loomed large, every small misstep now magnified into catastrophic proportions. Her asthma. She hadn’t had an attack in months, but that didn’t mean she was safe. You knew how suddenly it could strike, how it could rob her of air when she needed it most.

What if she was alone?

Your fingers moved on autopilot, logging into the location app on your phone and inputting her information with trembling hands. The voices around you blurred into a cacophony of panic—Rumi's sharp questions directed at Eri, whose face turned a deep crimson as she stammered under the pressure.

"I-I don't know where she is! She was here, and then she—"

Aizawa’s voice, usually so composed, crackled through the phone with uncharacteristic urgency.

"Eri, stay calm. Where was the last place you saw her?"

Shinsou pulled out his phone, flipping through it rapidly. "She dropped her location to me, but..." He cursed under his breath.

"It’s expired."

Kirishima waved down a local officer, trying to explain the situation with gestures that grew increasingly frantic. Mina, tears brimming in her eyes, kept trying Asuna’s phone, her voice cracking as she spoke into the receiver.

"Pick up... please, just pick up!"

This was all too much.

The noise, the panic, the memories. The time a villain had followed Asuna home, how her quirk malfunctioning had inadvertently saved her life.

‘Could that have happened again?’

The idea wrapped around your heart like a vice, squeezing until the world around you began to blur.

Would you ever see her safe and sound again?

Or was this the beginning of a nightmare that would end with another funeral?

Yesterday, you buried the woman that raised you.

Would you have to bury your daughter now too?

"Fuck no."

You couldn’t hear anyone, couldn’t focus on anything except the paralyzing fear in your chest. Your vision tunneled, the edges fading to black, until Katsuki’s voice cut through the haze, rough and commanding.

“Hey! Look at me!” His hands gripped your shoulders firmly but not harshly. “Breathe. In... and out.” His voice softened slightly, the anger in it replaced by something steadier, almost gentle. “You’ve got this. Come on, do the shitty exercises.”

Mechanically, you followed his lead, your breaths syncing with his as he guided you through the familiar routine. Your mind was still a blur, but you clung to the rhythm, your fingers continuing to work on bypassing the security on Asuna’s phone.

“I promise you,” Katsuki said, his voice low, steady.

“We’re going to find her. I swear it.”

You felt his hands—warm but not burning—gently holding your wrists, pulling them up in front of you. “Look at me. We’re gonna do this together, alright?” His voice was calm yet firm, cutting through the fog in your mind, pulling you back just a little.

His red eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you were transfixed. You could see the determination there, the desperation beneath it all. He was trying. He was really trying.

For you.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now, more controlled. “I know it’s shit right now, but you’ve gotta breathe through it. You’re not alone, got it?” His thumbs rubbed light circles against your palms, grounding you. “You’re pissed, you’re hurt, and that’s fine. You get to feel that way. Just don’t hurt yourself because of this.”

The validation in his words hit you like a wave. Your chest tightened, your breaths still coming too fast, too shallow. The fire inside you flickered more violently, and you pulled your burning hands away from him, almost like they’d scalded you.

“I can’t—” you gasped, your voice cracking.

“I can’t stop it, Katsuki. It’s… I need to find her.”

You stumbled back a few steps, the air rushing into your lungs in desperate, greedy gulps. It felt like you couldn’t get enough, like no matter how hard you tried to breathe, it’d never be enough. The world around you was spinning, and you were crumbling.

Katsuki didn’t say anything at first.

He just watched you for a moment, his jaw tightening as he saw you fall apart in front of him. His fingers twitched at his sides, wanting to grab you, to pull you close, but he held back. He knew you didn’t want to be touched right now.

So instead, he lowered himself to better see you, hands sitting on his knees just two steps away.

Fuck anyone who thought he looked silly.

He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence, but he gave you space. His breathing remained steady, deep and calm, like he was trying to show you that you were okay.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“You hear me? I’m not leaving you to figure this shit out on your own.”

You didn’t respond, your body still tensed up, shaking. You could feel the cold of the winter air seeping into your skin, but it was like your quirk was fighting back against it, flames sparking and sputtering under the surface. You were torn between the cold and the heat, between your need to feel control and your fear that you’d lose your daughter again.

“I know it feels like everything’s closing in on you,” Katsuki continued, his voice steady and unwavering, “but you’ve gotta fight it. And I know you can.” There was a pause, the wind howling around the two of you as the park buzzed faintly in the distance.

“You’re going to find her. I’m not letting you hurt yourself because of some stupid voice in yer head. Not again.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, with commitment. He wasn’t going to let you spiral, wasn’t going to let you fall into that darkness again. You could hear the unspoken worry in his voice, the fear that you might break yourself trying to fight through this.

You swallowed hard, your dry throat burning with the effort. The cold air felt sharp as it scraped through your lungs, and for a second, it felt like you might shatter. You wanted to scream, to cry, to let it all out, but instead, you just stood up taller, pressing one hand to your chest as you punched commands to the phone.

Katsuki shifted beside you, and you could feel him there, like a steady presence keeping you tethered. He wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t running from the mess, from the fire.

Your fire.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he admitted quietly, his voice soft but firm. “But I’m here. And you’re gonna be okay.”

He didn’t touch you, didn’t force you to move. He just squats there with you, his presence solid and unyielding, waiting for you to breathe, to come back to yourself.

Mechanically, you begin to follow his lead, your breaths syncing with his as he guides you through the familiar routine. Your mind was still a blur, but you clung to the rhythm, your fingers continuing to work on bypassing the security on Asuna’s phone.

"I promise you," Katsuki said, his voice low, steady.

"We’re going to find her. I swear it."

He takes Hitoshi's flowers from your hands, carefully tucking them into his bookbag before stepping back. Your phone dinged, and your heart lurched as you read the notification:

Her coordinates.

No sooner than the location hit your phone did Aizawa arrived, running up as Kirishima waved him over. Shinsou was showing pictures of Asuna to the officer, flipping between his wallet and phone, his normally stoic face etched with worry.

"She’s... right here?" you whispered, your voice shaking as you stared at the screen.

"Her phone is here!"

Everyone looked around, scanning the area with wide, desperate eyes. But there was nothing.

No sign of Asuna.

The realization hit you like a physical blow, and the scream that tore from your throat was raw, born of fear and frustration. Stomping forward you looked out into the field of flowers and the ice skating rink before your eyes confirmed it, she isn't here.

You kick a nearby tree, the impact sends a shock through your leg, but it doesn't matter. The pain was a welcome distraction from the chaos in your soul.

Katsuki makes the others stand back from you, as remnants of your quirk kicked up and your lava began to burn away the base of the tree, socks and boots also melting away with your right foot now exposed and smoking with a foul order entering the air that reflected how nasty you felt inside.

What you felt fall onto your scalp, however, made you freeze. Your breath hitched as you looked down and let it all into your hand.

A sugar-coated almond?

Your heart thudded in your chest as your mind raced.

Asuna’s favorite snack.

Before you could fully process it, a blur of movement in the tree above caught your eye.

Something, or someone, came crashing down, colliding directly with Katsuki.

He stumbled back, hands instinctively going up to catch the figure that had fallen from the branches. Relief and panic warred within you as you watched Katsuki grip her shoulders, holding her steady. Her face was flushed, her breath coming in short gasps, but she was there—

Alive .

"Asuna!"

Everyone surged forward, voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of concern and relief. Asuna hunches in the center, a mix of confusion and exhaustion etched into her face. Leaves and twigs stick out of her braids, tangled with the soft fabric of her scarf. Her wide, shell-shocked eyes darted from one person to the next, unable to process the barrage of questions.

"Asuna, what happened?" Hitoshi's voice was the first to cut through the din, calm but edged with urgency. His hand hovered near her shoulder, hesitant yet ready to steady her if she faltered.

Before she could respond, Katsuki stepped in, wrapping an arm around both you and Asuna, his protective instincts kicking in.

"Back off!" he barked, voice sharp as he sensed her growing distress. But even as he spoke, the groaning sound of the tree behind you reached a breaking point.

The tree, unable to withstand the force of your kick and the intense heat from your quirk’s sudden activation, began to give way. Smoke curled from the blackened bark, the air heavy with the scent of scorched wood.

"Move!" Katsuki’s arm tightened around you both, and with a swift, practiced motion, he propelled all three of you backwards as the tree collapsed with a deafening crash. Sparks flew as the ground trembled beneath the impact, sending people scrambling back with screams of terror, the scene descending into chaos as onlookers assumed the worst—

A villain attack.

Your breathing hitched, panic threatening to overwhelm you again. The crowd’s shouts blurred into a haze, their thoughts spiraling into worst-case scenarios.

Just as the panic reached its peak, Asuna wobbled up onto her knees, hands trembling as she raised them. A shimmering barrier of energy flickered to life around the smoldering remains of the tree.

The glowing shield expanded, encasing the flames and heat, creating a makeshift box around the burning debris. Her face contorted in concentration, her body visibly trembling as she compressed the energy, the barrier shrinking tighter and tighter until the tree was reduced to nothing but a smoldering patch of grass, too hot to touch or even approach.

The tension in your chest eased just a fraction as Katsuki helped you both to your feet. His eyes, usually filled with a spark of defiance, were softened now, filled with a mixture of worry and relief as he steadied Asuna. Hitoshi appeared beside you, his brows knitted together as he reached out to offer support, his hand briefly brushing yours in reassurance.

"Asuna, what happened?" you asked, voice shaky but determined. You had to understand what had led to this moment.

She opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. The crowd pressed closer again, their concerned faces creating a wall of noise and questions that threatened to suffocate her. Her breathing quickened, her hands clenching at her sides as she struggled to form a coherent sentence.

"Give her some space!" Katsuki's voice boomed, his towering presence helping to create a barrier between Asuna and the pressing throng. His arms spread wide as he urged the others to step back, his own face set in a mask of calm determination despite the chaos around him.

Asuna tries to exhale, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but the smoke from the burning tree had already infiltrated her lungs. Her breaths become shallow, wheezing gasps, each one a struggle. She presses a hand to her chest, panic evident in her eyes.

"Asuna!" you called, your voice cracking. "Your inhaler—"

Eri, wide-eyed but quick to react, fumbled in her coat pockets before pulling out the small device. She threw it to Katsuki, who caught it in a swift motion and handed it to you. You knelt in front of Asuna, your hands steady despite the turmoil in your heart, pressing the inhaler to her lips.

"Two pumps," you whispered, your voice soothing. "Breathe out."

Asuna obeyed, taking two short bursts before inhaling deeply. She coughed, the harsh sound reverberating through the clearing, her body wracked with the effort. But slowly, her breathing began to even out, the color returning to her cheeks as the medicine worked its way through her system.

Inside, though, Asuna was still spiraling.

The sheer number of people surrounding her, the guilt of what she had put you through—it all pressed down on her, threatening to consume her. Her hands trembled as she reached out, clutching your arm as if anchoring herself to reality.

"I’m sorry," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn’t mean to... I didn’t know..."

Your heart ached at the sight of her struggling, the weight of her panic and guilt mirrored in her tear-filled eyes. You pulled her into a tight embrace, whispering soothing words as you rubbed circles on her back.

"Why are you sorry?" you murmured, voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart. "You’re safe now. That’s all that matters."

Around you, the others stood in a protective semi-circle, their expressions a mix of relief and lingering concern.

Shinsou’s gaze remained on Asuna, his usual stoicism tempered with a softness that hinted at his own worry. Rumi and Kirishima kept the crowd at bay, his reassuring smile doing its best to calm the onlookers.

Mina, tears still glistening in her eyes, hovered nearby, her phone in hand, ready to call for help if needed. Asuna’s breathing continued to slow, her grip on you loosening as the tension in her body began to ease. She was still shaken, the adrenaline crash leaving her drained, but the worst was over.

For now.

The air around you felt suffocating, thick with the weight of the moment as everything seemed to slow to a crawl.

Asuna’s trembling hand reached out, seeking comfort, and Hitoshi was quick to respond, his own hand steady as he took hers. His voice, quiet and steady, began to hum—a familiar melody meant to soothe her in the way he had done so many times before. The hum reverberated through her, and she tried, desperately, to breathe deeply like the doctors had taught her all those years ago.

But despite her best efforts, the panic didn't subside.

Her chest constricted with each breath, a reminder of how her quirk had taken control of the situation, spiraling out of her grasp. And under the surface, guilt gnawed at her. 'I should have just trusted you ,' she thought. Should’ve waited to have this conversation with you. But it was too late now, and the reality of the moment crashed into her.

She had put you through this— again .

Tears fell silently from her eyes as she thought of how badly she had fucked up, the emotional dam that had been holding back the tears finally breaking under the weight of everything. You were there, kneeling in front of her, picking out twigs and leaves from her hair, your fingers trembling as they gently brushed through the strands.

You don't notice the tears falling from your own eyes, the guilt of what had just happened rushing in like a tide. Your heart twist's with the thought that your quirk had been the catalyst for all this, had triggered Asuna’s asthma and sent her into a panic. And you couldn’t help but think that maybe if you’d just controlled it better, if you had been more careful with your emotions, none of this would have happened.

'If you had done things ‘right’ this wouldn’t have happened.'

Asuna’s tears flowed harder as she caught sight of you crying.

Her mother, the woman who had always been the strong one, the one who kept everything together—

Was breaking down in front of her.

It only made her cry harder. Her chest tightened, her panic deepening. The guilt, the feeling of failure, overwhelmed her, and the tears wouldn’t stop.

Katsuki, who had been squatting a little to the side, looking like he was ready to pop off at any moment, felt the shift in the air. He turned to Asuna, who was gripping your arm tightly, and her desperate, tear-filled gaze caught his.

It was a look he couldn’t ignore.

One that made his hatred and jealousy falter.

Katsuki knelt down beside you both, and without a word, he reached for Asuna’s hand. His warmth wrapped around both you and her, pulling you closer together. He wouldn’t leave—not now, not when she needed him, not when you both needed him. He wasn't about to abandon anyone, especially not Asuna.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured under his breath, his words directed at both of you. “Your mama’s gotcha.”

Asuna’s breath hitched at his words. It was the warmth of his touch , his presence, that helped her hold it together, even as the world seemed to be falling apart around her.

She didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want anyone to leave. Her hands squeezed his, grounding her in the moment. The last thing she needed was to be left alone.

Asuna felt herself losing control again, tears blurring her vision as she caught sight of you crying. It made her heart break all over again. You were always so strong for her, always taking the weight of the world onto your shoulders.

Now, to see you so vulnerable—so fragile—was a reminder of just how much pressure she had been putting on you.

And then it all came crashing down

The complete realization that she had just put you through all of this—put everyone through this.

Her chest tightened again, and she could barely breathe. Her impulse, usually something she could control, had spiraled out of control, and in that moment, she felt more alone than ever.

Just then, you felt a gentle squeeze on your wrist, and you turned to find Hitoshi looking at you, his eyes wet with concern. He had seen this before, the aftermath of asthma-related incidents, the fear in Asuna’s eyes, the way it caused her body to tremble.

But this time felt different. The fear was heavier. He hummed again, his voice quieter this time, almost a whisper meant for Asuna’s broken heart.

And then Katsuki’s phone buzzed in his pocket. His face hardened, and he stood, shaking his head as he pulled it out. “I'm calling for help,” he said, his voice strained but still determined. But as he moved to go, Asuna’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist with more strength than she thought she had left. Katsuki hesitated, and then, without a word, he dropped to his knees again, staying by her side.

She needed him.

And Katsuki knew there was no place he’d rather be.

The chaos of the moment didn’t relent.

Rumi’s voice could be heard, arguing with an officer in the background. Aizawa, his usually calm demeanor turning more intense, joined in, his voice sharp as he tried to de-escalate the situation. The officer was insistent, asking if you had a heat-related quirk.

When you nodded, your heart skipped a beat. Before you could react, the officer’s voice shot out, demanding you turn around and place your hands behind your back. Your eyes widened, and the pit in your stomach dropped.

You didn’t understand.

This was a mistake, wasn’t it?

A quirk accident—nothing more, nothing less. You hadn’t meant for any of this to happen.

But the officer’s words cut through you.

“Heroes are not above the law,” he said, his voice firm. “You’ve endangered innocent civilians. Damaged city property. Caused a public stir. And as for that little stunt with the tree? It’s technically theft— not including using a quirk without a license to do so.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stepped in front of Asuna, your body instinctively moving to protect her. Your quirk flared, heat radiating off you, but it wasn’t enough to stop the officer’s advance.

Your heart pounded as you glared at him, standing firm between him and your daughter.

Rumi stepped forward, her usual playful attitude long gone, replaced by a fire in her eyes. “You’re gonna arrest her for this? Go catch real criminals, you piece of shit!” she shouted, her voice cold with anger, but her stance firm, ready to defend you. Aizawa sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “This isn’t the time,” he muttered.

But you were frozen.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks—this wasn’t just about a quirk accident anymore.

This was about the fact that you were a foreigner.

A top hero in Japan, yes, but still an outsider in many’s eyes.

You had heard the whispers recently, stories of non-Japanese heroes being falsely arrested on fabricated charges. It had been a constant topic on the news before your nation wide blackout shifted the focus elsewhere.

You understood, to an extent, how foreigners could stand out in a different country. But you were still a dual citizen. You had a right to be here, and there was a proper, legal way to handle situations like this. The thought that something as simple as your nationality could be twisted into a weapon was a bitter pill to swallow.

And the worst part?

Asuna was caught right in the middle of it.

Your daughter.

You heard Asuna’s soft gasp behind you, and when you turned, her eyes were wide, clear—but terrified . She wasn’t breathing. Not from the asthma attack this time. But from the crushing weight of fear that had settled into her chest.

Her voice, barely a whisper, shattered the air. “ Mom… don’t… please… ”

Her words, heavy with panic and guilt, hit you harder than any blow ever could. Her quirk had solved this, but she didn’t deserve to be the one paying for it. Anger wells up inside as you turn back to face the officer. You could feel your quirk itching at the edge of your control, threatening to ignite again, but you pushed it down.

For Asuna.

For your family.

You couldn’t afford to lose yourself now. But as the officer’s hand reached out, you knew one thing with absolute certainty-

No matter what happens, you won’t let anything happen to Asuna.

The tension in the air was palpable, as though everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something to shift. Aizawa stepped forward, his usually calm and collected demeanor now tinged with the unmistakable edge of danger.

He positioned himself firmly between you and the officer, his body language saying everything that words couldn’t quite convey. He wasn’t going to let this go any further.

Not while you were in the line of fire, not while Asuna was still struggling to breathe, and not while his daughter and students were gathered around, watching in various states of tension and concern.

His voice, when it came, was low and dangerous, but underneath it, there was the unmistakable undertone of diplomacy.

“Back off, officer,” he said. “This isn’t your protocol and you know it.”

The words were smooth, yet there was an edge. A promise of consequences should this situation escalate any further.

Just then, you felt a warm, heavy presence behind you, and without having to turn around, you knew Katsuki was there. His energy, always a little soothing, became an anchor for you in that chaotic moment.

You look back to Asuna and Hitoshi, and you could hear him mumbling under his breath, words flowing together too quickly to catch. His quirk, always a little more covert and subtle, worked its magic on the officer in an instant.

The officer’s gaze went blank, his stance shifting from firm to oddly compliant, as if his mind had been wiped clean.

He blinked rapidly, as though trying to shake off a sudden fog. The change was subtle, but it didn’t take long for Hitoshi’s effect to take hold fully. The officer, now under his control, was completely unaware of what was happening around him.

Rumi, ever quick on her feet, didn’t hesitate for a second.

She moved swiftly to the officer’s body camera, and with a practiced flick, she ripped it off his uniform. In a blink, the camera was open, and she was extracting the chip with a smooth motion, sliding it into her pocket before anyone could react.

Then, she handed it over to Katsuki, who didn’t waste a second. With a barely contained smirk, he took the chip from her, and in a single motion, he detonated it, causing a small but satisfying explosion that sent the device into smithereens.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched the officer’s confusion grow.

His eyes, now vacant of any understanding, drifted over the scene before him, as though he was seeing everything for the first time, trying to piece it all together. And in that moment, Hitoshi continued to work, murmuring low, steady words into the officer’s mind, keeping him in a state of compliance.

It wasn’t long before the officer’s eyes flickered with a mild disorientation, as if he was waking up from a trance. And then, with a quiet groan, he blinked a few more times, trying to orient himself.

“Where... where am I?” His voice was thick, as though he had just woken from a deep sleep.

Everyone else seemed to simultaneously shift into action, a sort of tactical calm falling over the group as they began to speak with unsettling sweetness. Aizawa’s voice was the first to cut through the silence, his tone almost tender, though there was still an underlying firmness.

“It’s just that time of year, officer. You know how it is,” he said, offering a calm smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Pro Hero Obsidian here accidentally sneezed so hard that her quirk activated, and well... let’s just say the tree didn’t stand a chance.”

The officer’s confused gaze traveled to you, as though trying to decipher the explanation.

His brow furrowed, but the words seemed to sink in, albeit slowly. He looked around at the remnants of the tree, the scorched earth, and the oddness of it all, still trying to piece together what had just occurred. His hand wandered to his vest, patting himself down as if looking for answers.

But they were gone. His body camera, his grasp on the situation—everything had slipped from his mind in the haze of confusion Hitoshi had woven around him.

You took a deep breath, careful not to let your quirk flare up again as you approached him, offering the most sincere smile you could manage under the circumstances.

“I really do appreciate your quick response, officer. Honestly, it’s amazing how fast you were able to rip the body cam off when it caught fire.” You let out a short, apologetic chuckle, trying to ease the tension.

“Quirk’s are a bit unpredictable this time of the year, you know?”

The officer looked at you, his expression shifting from confusion to something resembling disgust. He nodded stiffly, clearly uncomfortable, though he was no longer quite as combative as he had been moments ago.

“Glad to help ,” he muttered, still patting himself down, though he couldn’t seem to find a clear explanation for what had just occurred.

“Well, I’m sorry again about the allergies,” you continued, trying to keep the situation light.

The officer gave a curt nod, though it didn’t reach his eyes, and then he asked, almost absently,

“Can I see your license for the incident report?”

Katsuki, who had been watching everything unfold with his usual intensity, stepped forward and reached into his jacket pocket. Without hesitation, he pulled out his business card, slapping it into the palm of the officer.

“Here. Should clear everything up.” His voice was cool, nonchalant, as if this was just another day for him.

“Good rest of your day, officer.”

The officer took the card, his hand shaking slightly, though he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he gave a nod and shuffled off, still visibly bewildered, as though everything he had just experienced didn’t make sense, and he wasn’t sure how to process it.

As soon as he was out of sight, you let out a long, shaky breath, feeling the tension in your body finally begin to ease. But just as you were about to relax, Aizawa and Mina closed in on you, both of them wrapping you in a hug.

The warmth of their embrace grounded you, and for a moment, everything felt safe again. You rested your head against Aizawa’s shoulder, letting the stress of the situation melt away, at least for now.

Katsuki, still standing nearby, caught Kirishima’s eye, who was now nudging him lightly. “What just happened?” Kirishima asked, his voice laced with curiosity and concern. He was mostly oblivious to understanding what had just gone down. Katsuki’s gaze flickered toward the retreating officer and then back to his friend. “You don’t wanna know,” he said with a sharp look.

“But it’s all good now.”

Meanwhile, Eri had knelt down next to Asuna, who was still visibly shaken, but she had stopped crying. Hitoshi’s humming continued, soft and soothing, the rhythm lulling Asuna into a more stable state of mind. Eri reached out, her hand gently resting on Asuna’s shoulder, offering her support as her wide, empathetic eyes softened.

And in the background, Rumi, having finished trailing the officer at a distance, was about to take off after him when Aizawa pulled her back with a tug of his scarf, bringing her back into the fold of the hug with a force that was almost comforting. Rumi didn’t resist, leaning into the embrace and sharing a brief, unspoken moment of relief with the group.

The scene quieted, and everything seemed to settle into place.

Even though the tension had been so thick just moments ago, there was a peace that now lingered. No one had been badly hurt, and the crisis had been averted, even if the situation had gotten far too close to the edge for comfort.

You couldn’t help but feel immense gratitude for the team of people who had circled around you, protecting you and Asuna, keeping you both safe.

For a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered.

Until the distant sound of sirens grew louder, and you felt a sudden jolt of panic hit your chest.

The calm of the moment was quickly overtaken by the flashing lights of an approaching ambulance.

You barely had time to react before you heard your name being called—sharp, urgent, and cutting through the chaos. You turned to see Elle, your manager, rushing towards you with her usual grace replaced by frantic energy.

She moved with a wild sort of urgency, her high heels tapping sharply against the pavement as she approached. Her face was a mix of concern and confusion, and you couldn’t help but notice how completely disheveled she looked.

Her perfectly put-together business attire, which always screamed efficiency, was now a far cry from its usual polished perfection. Her white blouse was stained with something—coffee or maybe even chocolate, you couldn’t tell—and her black suit was wrinkled and creased from the chaos that had unfolded.

The flats she wore, which were stylish yet surprisingly comfortable, looked more like slippers than anything suited for a high-stress moment like this. But her hair, once so neatly styled, was now messy, strands of it falling out of its usual neat bun, giving her a wild appearance.

She dropped her briefcase with a loud thud at her feet, and without skipping a beat, she reached for your hands, her fingers shaking slightly. “Is Asuna okay?” Elle’s voice was sharp, but there was a hint of something more at hand. She had clearly been thrown off balance by whatever news had reached her inbox, and now she was here, trying to make sense of the madness that surrounded you both.

"She, wait, what are you doing here?!"

“I traced your location after something popped up in my inbox,” she explained, her words spilling out in a rush as she tried to catch her breath.

“Also... about Asuna. And the judge ruling over Rita’s estate. But I need to know what’s happening.”

You barely had time to process the words when you felt your pulse quicken.

You squeezed her hands and gave her a brief, reassuring nod, though the anxiety was building in your chest. “We’ll talk about it in the waiting room,” you said quickly, though your eyes were still darting over to Asuna, who was now being carefully helped onto the gurney by Hitoshi and Katsuki.

Eri stood next to them, holding Asuna’s hand, her face filled with a mixture of worry and determination as she tried to keep her composure for the younger girl.

You were moving before you realized it, rushing toward Asuna and the EMTs, your heart pounding as you made your way through the crowd. But before you could reach them, one of the paramedics stopped you. His hand shot out, trying to block your path.

“You can’t get in the ambulance,” he said sternly, his tone firm but not unkind.

Your chest tightened, and before you even had time to think, the words rushed out of your mouth.

“I am her mother!” you snapped, the instinct to protect Asuna overwhelming your thoughts. The paramedic froze for a moment, his eyes flickering with a brief moment of hesitation before he took a step back.

Without saying another word, he allowed you to slip past him, Elle following closely behind, her heels clicking against the pavement with an urgency that matched your own.

You jumped into the back of the ambulance, quickly moving to stand next to Asuna on the gurney, your hand gently brushing against hers as you leaned in. Elle settled beside you, her presence comforting you as the doors slammed shut.

The EMTs were already beginning to prepare for transport, and you could hear them talking quietly to each other, their voices a mix of professional calm and worry as you all drove off.

At the park, the scene was slowly beginning to calm down.

“I’m clocking out for the rest of the day!” Mina declared, her voice cutting through the lingering bustle. The park was mostly empty now, the earlier crowd having dispersed after the commotion. The once vibrant green space now felt eerily quiet, the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of traffic the only sounds filling the void.

Katsuki shot her a hard side-eye but remained silent.

His gaze shifted back to the patch of melted grass, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he scooped up your forgotten backpack, slinging it over his shoulder with practiced ease.

“I got it,” he muttered to Kirishima, his voice low but resolute. “Cover for me.” The words came without hesitation, his focus already shifting toward the next task. Mina, who had been mid-step, paused, her brow furrowing as she processed his abruptness. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped when Hitoshi’s voice broke through, tinged with mild irritation.

“I drove here,” Hitoshi offered, his eyes on Katsuki. “You can ride with me if you want. But I’m leaving now.” His tone was calm, but the underlying urgency was clear.

He wasn’t waiting.

Katsuki was about to respond when Aizawa’s voice cut through the stillness, calm yet authoritative.

“Everyone needs to get back to work,” he said, his eyes softening slightly as they landed on Mina. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but you need to clock back in.” His tone was gentle, offering a quiet reassurance amid the residual chaos.

Rumi, ever the dependable presence, stepped forward with a warm smile. “I’ll finish the rest of her shift with you, Pinky,” she said with confidence, her upbeat nature shining through despite the tension. Mina nodded, her expression softening as she quickly made the necessary call to your agency, ensuring everything was handled.

Aizawa’s calm voice continued, directing the group with steady authority. “Go home and get some rest before tonight’s shift.” Hitoshi nodded silently, his gaze lingering on Katsuki for a moment before he turned and walked away, his hands buried in his jacket pockets. Aizawa shifted his attention to Kirishima. “Finish patrol, yeah?”

“You got it, Teach!” Kirishima responded with his usual enthusiasm, giving a hearty thumbs up. With that, the group began to settle into their new routines. The park, once filled with chaos, was now quiet, the paramedics long gone, leaving behind only the weight of what had transpired.

“Bakugou, you can ride with me,” Aizawa said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Katsuki glanced at him, the tension still palpable in his stance. “When did you become my old hag?” he muttered, his annoyance evident. But he didn’t protest. He knew better. Aizawa, unfazed by the comment, remained neutral. “Come on,” he said, already walking away.

Katsuki sighed, his irritation clear, but he followed. He was sick of the park anyway. As they approached a minivan parked nearby, Katsuki’s face twisted in confusion, then disbelief. The vehicle, adorned with a rearview mirror stick of a black and white cat and about twenty smaller cat stickers on the other side, was a far cry from what he expected.

“This is your ride?” Katsuki asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Aizawa, ever unbothered, shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.” He slid the door open, and with a resigned huff, Katsuki climbed in after him, the door shutting behind them, leaving the park and its now quiet solitude behind.

They drove in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound accompanying them as the city center gradually faded into the distance. Katsuki stared out the window, watching the buildings blur together, the vibrant heart of the city giving way to quieter, more subdued streets. The sky above mirrored his mood, a blanket of grey stretching endlessly, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Still no snow.

Aizawa, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, finally broke the silence. His voice was calm, steady, yet it carried a weight that Katsuki couldn't ignore.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

Katsuki’s gaze shifted from the window to the dimming cityscape, the question hanging in the air between them. For a while, he didn’t respond, his eyes following the endless stretch of the grey sky before turning back to his old teacher.

“No.”

Comments are love! Questions are welcomed!

Easter eggs: I use the 3 hearts in the text divider at the beginning to symbolize You, Asuna, and Katsuki. The hearts are separate right now because you all are not "together" yet.

The various heartbeats shown are also relating to y'all and how you feel during the situation.

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r,@v3n7s, icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756. @sweetlike-sugarplum. @aespie, @dancingqueen276, @erensbbg,

Lemme know if you wanna be added to the list!

(Psssts, requests are also open!!~)

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have some more Katsuki (and other mha) here in the master list.

ao3 link too

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ -Angie

44 notes · View notes