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lesfeldickbiblestudy · 2 years ago

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Through the Bible with Les Feldick LESSON 1 * PART 2 * BOOK 63 THE PRAYER OF THE REMNANT - PART 2 ISAIAH 63:7 – 66:24 Okay, once again, we’re ready to go for another half-hour program. For those of you joining us on television, we would like to thank you. We just can’t get over how you support us financially and with your prayers, and with your letters. What an encouragement to read your letters. Yesterday, one letter just stood out about how our program and our teaching had transformed their whole household. Well, what else can you expect but to let the Word do its work? All right, now we’re going to pick right up where we left off in the last lesson. In that lesson I kind of digressed more than I intended, and we only got one or two verses, so we’re going to jump back in at verse 8 of Isaiah 63. But I want to remind you that the whole half-hour we just spent was to show that God always keeps a remnant. Even in ancient Israel, the whole nation certainly was not obedient believers. The vast majority was anything but. If you doubt me, go back and read your Old Testament. But in the midst of them, they still had that remnant of true believers. So it is today. Just because the church is full and seemingly vibrant and is making a lot of headway numbers-wise doesn’t mean that they’re all believers, because many have never placed their faith in Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection for their salvation. I’ve given the illustration that years back, when we were in Genesis, I ordered a book from one of the Lutheran seminaries. A Lutheran theologian wrote it. It was just simply called The Flood. I’ve never gotten over the analogy he drew, I’ve repeated it before, and I’m going to repeat it again. This is so typical, I think, of what we’re seeing, especially today, with these huge mega-churches - full of a lot of excitement seemingly but how much of the truth of the Word? But anyway he said this, "When Noah and those three sons were building that humongous ark, which remember was longer than a football field (450 feet long), and it was three stories high. It stands to reason they probably had to hire extra help." "But," he said, "When the flood came, were any of those extra workers in the ark? No. They had no concern. Even though they’d helped build it." Then he took it one step further, and this is sobering. He said, "How many church people are busy, busy, busy. Singing in the choir, teaching Sunday School, giving, doing everything, but they’re not in the ark." You know, that’s frightening. They have all the "churchianity" in the world, but they have no saving grace. This is why we try to constantly emphasize that it isn’t the work that you do, but rather it’s the faith that you have in what Christ has already done. All right, now the same way in Israel. There was that small element that was true believers, not just worshippers. All right, jump in at verse 8. Now remember, this is the element that we’re dealing with, this little remnant of believers, but we’re picturing them in the closing days of the age or in the final days of the Tribulation. This is what we’re really referring to over and over throughout these final chapters - verse 8. Isaiah 63:8a "For he said, (that is the Lord) Surely they (this remnant) are my people,…" Now you remember what the verse said in our last program. In Romans chapter 11 especially, what would God say? "They are my people." Now he doesn’t say that concerning Israel today. They are out there in unbelief. And although He’s certainly in control, He’s got them where He wants them, yet they are not a nation of believers, they are not what God will yet call "My people." Isaiah 63:8 "For he said, Surely they are my people, children that will not lie: so he was their (what?) Saviour." They were true believers. So, even back in the Old Testament economy, where salvation is far different than what you and I understand, He was their Savior. Next verse: Isaiah 63:9a "In all their affliction (Now, Israel has

always gone through a constant time of persecution and affliction, but in all their affliction…) he was afflicted,…" That is, He suffered with them. In fact, do you remember, I think I mentioned it in our last taping which was shortly after the Tsunamis over there in Asia, that God does not precipitate these tragic events, Satan does. Now, God permits it, but Satan is the one who moves and shakes these things. But why does Satan bring so much turmoil and suffering on the human race when he’s already got them under his control? Because Satan knows it hurts the heart of God. God doesn’t enjoy seeing those thousands being washed away. It tears at His heart, even in their unbelief. So, this is what it’s saying here, as Israel was suffering affliction, who was suffering with them? God was. Isaiah 63:9a "In all their affliction he was afflicted, and the angel of his presence saved them: in his love and in his pity he (what?) redeemed them;…" Now, you want to remember the whole book of Exodus is really a picture of what? Redemption. Redemption is buying something back that you have previously owned. Well, I haven’t got time to go into all the applications, but nevertheless, when the brothers sold Joseph down into Egypt it was the sin that broke the fellowship between him and the brothers. So, the whole process of redemption had to begin, and that, of course, was bringing them back out of Egypt 200 and some years later. Isaiah 63:9b-10a "…he redeemed them; and he bare them, and carried them all the days of old. (In other words, up through their ancient history, the days of antiquity.) 10. But (in spite of all of His love and grace) they rebelled,…" In unbelief. They didn’t want to be collared by godliness and spirituality. They wanted to live the life of the flesh. Isaiah 63:10b "…and vexed his holy Spirit: therefore he was turned to be their (what?) enemy, and he fought against them." Consequently, again, He used Babylon and He used the Syrians and He used other nations to be their tormentors. Isaiah 63:11-12 "Then he remembered the days of old, Moses, and his people, saying, Where is he that brought them up out of the sea with the shepherd of his flock? where is he that put his Holy Spirit within him? 12. That led them by the right hand of Moses with his glorious arm, dividing the water before them, to make himself an everlasting name?" Now, every time I consider the parting of the Red Sea by Moses and the Children of Israel walking over on dry ground, I just have to mull over to myself how many of the current world’s population believe that really happened? Well, I don’t know, but I’ve got a pretty good idea - not many. I think in the minds of most people, that’s just another legend, that’s another myth that was concocted around the campfire - but it happened. It is something that takes some faith. Yes, the water of the Red Sea parted. Now, I have one favorite portion of Scripture to prove that. Turn back with me to Joshua. If there’s any in my listening audience that may be of that persuasion, that this is just Jewish legend, that these things didn’t really happen, yes, they did! Physically. Physically, the waters of the Red Sea were parted, and Israel walked through on dry ground. Come back with me to Joshua chapter 2 and verse 9. The spies have now confronted Rahab on the wall of Jericho. This is only a few years after - it’d be a little over forty years, because this is after the wilderness experience. They’re now coming into Israel from the east side of Jordan, and they confront Rahab on the wall of Jericho. This is what Rahab, the Jerichoite, says to these Jewish spies. Joshua 2:9-10a "And she said unto the men, I know (She’s not going by hearsay.) that the LORD hath given you the land, and that your terror is fallen upon us, and that all the inhabitants of the land faint because of you. (Now, here it comes.) 10. For we have heard how the LORD dried up the water of the Red Sea for you, when ye came out of Egypt;" Now listen, Jericho wasn’t that far from Egypt.

This wasn’t something halfway round the world that they had picked up by hearsay and legend. No, this was front-page news, if you want put it that way. Here, the God of Israel opened up the waters of the Red Sea, and that nation of several million people walked through, not through the mud but on dry land. It was an established fact in ancient history that this is what God did when He brought Israel up out of Egypt. So, never doubt it – not for a moment. This is not just some legend or some myth. This is actual historical fact. All right, Isaiah 63 once again, and reading verse 13. Isaiah 63:13 "That led them through the deep, as an horse in the wilderness, that they should not stumble?" Now, that’s a play on words that the average reader will never get. Like I’ve pointed out, I think in our last taping, in the Middle East what’s the wilderness? Desert. What’s desert? Flat. I’ll never forget our trip down to Petra. Remember that? Oh, just flat for miles and miles and miles. Well, for a horse and rider what is that? Hey, that’s smooth going. That’s smooth going compared to going through the rocks and canyons of a mountainous area. So, this is the picture now, the horseman in the wilderness in the Middle East is riding without fear of stumbling or rocks or whatever like that, and this is the God who led them as someone riding on horseback on a flat desert table. Then, "they should not stumble." But, on the other hand, verse 14, we have another picture and it’s: Isaiah 63:14a "As a beast goeth down into the valley,…" Now, why do beasts go down into the valleys of a terrain? What’s down there? Water! So, these are the analogies that you’ve got to look for. God brought them out just like a horseman riding on the desert, but He took care of them like animals going down to the cool water of a mountain stream. Isaiah 63:14b "…the Spirit of the LORD caused him to rest: so didst thou lead thy people, to make thyself a glorious name." Now, this is really a prayer, you see, on behalf of this small little remnant who recognized who the God of Israel really was. Isaiah 63:15-16a "Look down from heaven, and behold from the habitation of thy holiness and of thy glory: where is thy zeal and they strength, the sounding of thy bowels (innermost being) and of thy mercies toward me? are they restrained? (Now, in the next verse there’s an interesting statement, again, that the casual reader will just slip over.) 16. Doubtless thou art our father,…" Now, did unbelieving Israel think that? Let me show you. Come back to John’s gospel. Now, I like to jump into the New Testament as often as I can, because I don’t want someone to accuse me of staying in the Old Testament - John’s gospel chapter 8 verse 39. The Pharisees are now confronting Jesus and ridiculing Him. They’re scorning Him. John 8:39a "They answered and said unto him, Abraham is our father." So, they really didn’t understand God the Creator of everything as their Father. They ridiculed Christ when He claimed to know the Father and was the Father. I think I had a couple of other verses on my mind, but that should suffice. They knew nothing of God as their Father. They recognized Abraham as their father, and they were religious on that basis. But to have God as their Father; they knew nothing of it. All right, verse 16 again, back in Isaiah 63. So, the believing element can claim God as Father. Isaiah 63:16a "Doubtless thou art our father, though Abraham be ignorant of us, and Israel acknowledge us not:…" Now, there again, what does that tell you? How did the rank and file of Israel feel about the true believers? They detested them. They’re nothing but negatives. They’re holding everything back. They’re not progressive. Sound familiar? Yeah, it does. It’s no different today. So it’s always been that the true believer was considered a stumbling block to progress. Isaiah 63:16b-17 "…thou, O LORD, art our father, our redeemer; (See, there’s that word again, the One who purchased their salvation.) thy name is from everlasting.

17. O LORD, why hast thou made us to err from thy ways, and hardened our heart from thy fear? Return for thy servants’ sake, the tribes of thine inheritance." Now, you see, way back here Isaiah is prophesying how the remnant at the end-time, that we looked at in the last half-hour, will be waiting for the return of Christ to establish His Kingdom. So they can pray, "Return." But, did the unbelieving element want that? No. That’s the last thing they wanted. In fact, this always brings up a question. Go back with me, I hope I don’t get myself in trouble here. I should probably look up where I was in Psalms, but anyway, go back with me to Acts chapter 7. Here we have the account of Stephen. He’d just finished his great dissertation condemning the nation of Israel, and then you come down to verse 54, Acts 7. I hope you’re catching my analogy. This is going to be the attitude of the masses of Israel compared to that remnant that will be spared and are waiting for the Lord to return - much like the unbelieving element confronting Stephen. Acts 7:54-55a "When they heard these things, (That is from Stephen.) they were cut to the heart, and they gnashed on him with their teeth. 55. But he, (Stephen) being full of the Holy Spirit, looked up steadfastly into heaven, and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right hand of God," Oh, that throws a curve at everybody. Why did Stephen see Jesus standing when all the rest of Scripture says, "He sat down at the right hand of the Father on high?" Well, if He’s going to return, what does he have to do from the seated position? Well, He has to stand. Was Israel ready for that in Stephen’s day? No. Now, flip back to Psalms 68, and this will show you why. Oh, they didn’t want Christ to return. That’s the last thing they wanted. But the remnant did. Psalms 68:1 "Let God arise, let his enemies be scattered: (Why? Because when He stands from that seated position, He’s going to come in judgment first before He brings in the blessings of the Kingdom.) let them also that hate him flee before him." Now, we showed that so graphically in our last set of four programs. My, when He returns He’s going to be as if stomping on the masses of humanity so that the blood is splattered on His raiment. It was compared to what? The grapes in a grape vat. Remember? All of Scripture draws that analogy that He’s going to return in wrath against His enemies, but it’ll be the greatest blessing on earth for the remnant of believing Israel who will be waiting for His coming. Psalms 68:2-4 "As smoke is driven away, so drive them away: as wax melteth before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the presence of God." (That is his Second Coming.) 3. But (What about the righteous? They’re going to be glad.) let the righteous be glad; let them rejoice before God: yea, let them exceedingly rejoice. 4. Sing unto God, sing praises to his name: extol him that rideth upon the heavens, by his name JAH (Jehovah), and rejoice before him." Now, that’s the exuberance of the remnant at the return of Christ. But the majority of Israel? No. They don’t want Him to return. They aren’t ready for Him. So, always remember these things, that the Second Coming will be wrath and vexation on the unbelieving world, but for that remnant of Israel it’s to be the culmination of all the prophetic Scriptures. All right, back to Isaiah, we’ve got a couple of minutes left, Isaiah 63 verse 17. The last part again: Isaiah 63:17b "Return for thy servants’ sake, the tribes of thine inheritance." See, the believers wanted Him to return. Now, don’t forget the setting. This is the Tribulation remnant that is waiting for His sudden return. Isaiah 63:18-19 "The people of thy holiness have possessed it but a little while: our adversaries (Now this, of course, is a reference to the Babylonians as well as the Romans.) have trodden down thy sanctuary. (I feel it’s a reference to the temple. But, the little remnant of Israel can claim…) 19. We are thine: (Why? Because of their faith God has redeemed them.

They are a believing remnant.) thou never barest rule over them; they (That is the adversaries.) were not called by thy name." It’s so obvious now that this is the prayer and the expectation of the remnant. Now, I think we can go right on into 64 because, after all, the chapter breaks were not in the originals, and it reads just as well without the chapter heading. So, it’s that same remnant that continues in this prayer of exultation. Isaiah 64:1a "O that thou wouldest rend the heavens, that thou wouldest come down,…" Now, I think we did this in one of our last programs. Israel is waiting for Christ to come down. Turn with me to I Thessalonians chapter 4, and we’ll see the opposite effect for you and I and the Body of Christ. I Thessalonians chapter 4 and this is what we have to do. A lot of people try to put everything into one basket. No, you don’t ever do that. You just keep separating the Scriptures. The Old Testament believers expected God to come down. He’s going to stand on the Mount of Olives. He’s going to set up His throne in Jerusalem, and He’s going to give them an earthly Kingdom. But you and I, we’re going the other direction. I Thessalonians 4 and I’m going to read them all again, because everyday we get letters from people who have just caught the program for the first time. You know, yesterday a lady called and she ordered something and I said, "Well, how long have you been listening?" One program! That’s unbelievable - one program. So, we have to constantly keep them in mind as we repeat and repeat and repeat. All right, here’s Paul’s take on what the Church or the true Church, the Body of Christ, is looking for shortly (7 years) before Israel looks for Him to come down into their midst at the end of the Tribulation. Now, it’s the same way with the two Jewish ladies grinding at the mill, one will be taken, the other left. Well, that’s not the rapture. The one taken in that case is the unbeliever. They’re going to be removed from the scene and the believer will be left, that is in the Tribulation, having received salvation through the preaching of the 144,000, but for the church age believer it’s just the opposite. I Thessalonians 4:13-15a "But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, (Who have physically died.) that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. 14. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, (In other words, we believe Paul’s Gospel for salvation.) even so them also which sleep (have died) in Jesus will God bring with him. 15. For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord…" See how plain that is? Now, Israel would say the coming of the Lord is down to them. He’s going to come to the Mount of Olives. Zechariah 14 says it. Acts 1 says it. He’s going to stand on the Mount of Olives when He comes. But for us in the Body of Christ, He’s not going to come to the planet. He’s going to only come to the air! I Thessalonians 4:15b-17 "…shall not precede (or go ahead of) them which are asleep (who have died). (This is the reason.) 16. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: 17. Then we which are alive and remain (We’re still in our everyday livelihood.) shall be (what?) caught up together with them in the clouds, (He’s not going to be brought down to our midst, we’re going to be caught up.) to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord." Well, that’s the beginning of eternity for us. For Israel, it’s the beginning of the Kingdom here on earth, which will come seven years later at Christ’s Second Coming to the earth, at the end of the Tribulation. There will be a thousand years of glorious rule and reign, by their King, their Messiah, and their Redeemer. But for us it’s already the beginning of the eternal state. We’re getting closer and closer every day.

How we long for, as Paul puts it, to escape this old tabernacle of the flesh, with all of its disappointments and its pain and its suffering. One day we’re going to have that glorious new body like His resurrected body and not just for the thousand years, but for all eternity. But Israel…Israel is looking for the Messiah to come down from heaven into their midst and to set up the promised Kingdom.

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tteokdoroki · 4 years ago

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an ode to winter | dabi.

♡ pairing: dabi/touya todoroki x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 14.1K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: manga war arc!au, single-parent!au, unplanned pregnancy!au, angst, fluff, smut.

♡ summary: touya todoroki had broken a lot of things, your heart, promises, your window a few times, but you swore he'd never leave your child feeling that way. but when he wants back into your life, will he take no for an answer? And do you even want to say it?

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, ( literally 5k of it ), MANGA SPOILERS IN THE EXTENDED ENDING, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of semi-toxic!relationships, struggling with parenting, blackmail ??, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, losers ), handjobs, oral sex ( female receiving ), fingering ( female receiving ), choking, branding, squirting, spit!kink, needy touya lol <3

♡ author’s note(s): OK so this started out as a fic for my bestie @ozzy-bozzy but then turned into this long ass vent fic bc i do be struggling!! i’ve barely written for touya so apologies if his character is off. special thanks to @bakugous-trauma for beta reading n @doinmybesthere for the summary and beta reading and thanks for 4.7K MWAH <3

♡ masterlist | requests

the snow had fallen heavy that day, its flakes dancing along the window panes while you’d brought her into the world. you hated the cold, the way it nipped at your nose and stung at your cheeks, how it could freeze over a heart so badly that it would take years to thaw it out. you’d complained about the ice sheets that frosted your windows to the doctors, the ones on the roads too, but they’d simply wrote it off as your anxieties related to bringing kori home for the first time in such weather.

funnily enough, your daughter much resembled the cold in many ways. you’d named her ‘kori’; meaning ice, since her hair was white as the crisp blanket of winter outside and her eyes a piercing shade of aqua marine, that for a while, had no meaning written behind them except for a cool curiosity that you knew didn’t come from your side of the family. she wasn’t warm either, the first time you held her, her flesh against yours was almost a painful spark of frostbite— you expected that it was related to the lineage she came from too.

you thought that you’d resent kori when she was born; for the struggles that her new life had brought to you. you’d given birth alone and afraid, having lost friends and contact with your family due to keeping your pregnancy a secret. if they had known who caused you to end up in this situation in the first place, you were sure you’d have lost them all anyways. you hadn’t a chance to attend maternity classes due to the hours you worked in order to ensure yourself and your child’s financial security. although, prior to her arrival, dabi had told you that if you chose to give your daughter the todoroki name; you both would be looked after when the right time came.

and like a fool in love, you’d believed him, avoiding the apologetic gazes of the doctors and midwives who’d delivered your baby as you filled out her paperwork and birth certificate. one nurse even asked you if you wanted to contact endeavour for support, and you couldn’t blame her— the rumours of your child potentially being that of natsuo todoroki’s had spread fast through the hospital and it was a given, figuring his bad boy college reputation. natsuo and his ventures into the college life were no stranger to the media, so it didn’t surprise you nor the doctors to believe that this wasn’t the first time a girl had given birth alone to a todoroki child. you suspected that if there were any, enji todoroki would have paid them off.

so you let them believe what ever false truth that might have plagued the hospital walls about yourself and your daughter— not having the heart to tell them that you’d probably receive a much larger sum of money to keep hush about the child that you mothered and the child who’s father belonged to endeavour’s deceased, eldest son.

so you realised, thumb held by the chubby hand of your sweet infant girl; that you couldn’t hate her for the mistakes you’d made and the mess you’d become tangled up in— you could only promise to do your best in raising her despite the odds and difficult circumstances, you could give her the life and childhood that her father never had but most certainly deserved.

“miss yn...”

your midwife; himari enters the room, calling for you— tearing your gaze away from the hypnotising sea-foam eyes belonging to your daughter, the way she looked at you only reminding you of dabi. you’d told him once that his eyes always took you to the mediterranean sea, to which he’d laughed and mentioned you’d never seen it before. when the pair of you realised that this was true, the boy with the black hair and intoxicating stare made an oath to you, that he would take you there someday so you could bask in the warm sun and dip your toes into the clear oceans. you only hoped that this oath still remained true.

“miss yn...” himari tries again, this time stepping further into your hospital room. your thoughts had carried you so far away that you hadn’t realised how close she’d gotten as she lingered by your cot. her hands lay flat against her pale blue uniform, nails you note—neatly trimmed— and a smile that would have made you feel comfortable had you not known she’d volunteered to care for you because she too believed she’d be paid off by endeavour. you almost felt bad that she thought the silly lie was true and that she had a shot at a big time bonus but it was funny to think that no one would believe her when she eventually took to the news to claim that she cared for the next heir of the todoroki empire. “it’s says here, that kori is scheduled for feeding— i was wondering if you wanted to continue breast feeding or try pumping a bottle or two today?”

chewing on the inside of your cheek, you hum with hesitance. feeding kori was something you’d never discussed with dabi, some of the nurses had assured you that it was possible for you to do both— so that you could grow closer to your daughter and form a tight bond whilst also giving the opportunity to others to feed her when need be. there weren’t many others, but you figured that dabi might want to give bottle feeding a whirl when he finally returned from the league business. the business that had made him miss his little girl’s birth.

kori gargles from hunger in your arms, drawing your attention back to her tiny form. a stray strand of hair curls against her forehead from underneath her blankets and swaddling— the end you notice has a slight tint of red to it. the icy shell around your heart thaws. glancing back up to himari; you grin with a decision in mind. “i’d like to try breast feeding again, we can use the pump tomorrow.” you say, voice quiet.

“do you need any help getting her to latch?” your midwife asks, aiding you into a comfortable position to feed kori.

“no,” you smile after getting settled, pushing down your gown to expose your breast to your little girl. “i’ve got her, i can take care of her.”

you say the words more so to yourself than to himari, a hidden reassurance that you’re more than capable of raising your daughter on your own.

for now at least.

that winter, dabi never came home.

the snow melts, the flowers bloom and the seasons change. your daughter grows with the swift transition of the weathers too, her hair is a little longer now but the small curl of red against her forehead remains hidden and the same. her eyes open wider, still that deep shade of ocean blue, she can sit up on her own, throws toys out of her crib and her favourite movies are bambi and bambi two. they’re the only things that she watches, which you hate, because they remind you of her. an innocent child who loses one parent and is left in the care of the emotionally closed off other.

you hadn’t realised how much you would need dabi, but still he is nowhere to be seen.

raising kori on your own proves a challenge, especially now that she’s a little bigger— it was easy after she was born; she was quiet and only made a fuss when she was hungry or needed to be changed. went down easy too, that was until her wails reared their ugly head as soon as the colder parts of winter hit. no matter what you did, the girl would cry for hours on end until her face would hurt from how scrunched it was and her fingers would turn red from the grip she had on your hands.

since her birth, you and kori had to move three times due to the noise complaints about her consistent crying throughout the day, evening and night. by the time february rolled around, you’d ended up in an apartment not so far from dabi’s old neighbourhood— it was a shitty area with high crime rates and an eerie feel to it that made you clutch your purse tighter when you walked home from the late night shifts— you had never had any intentions to raise kori in a dump like this, you wanted a better life for her than what dabi had, but your shabby two bedroom apartment in the dark side of town would be enough for now.

the rent was cheap since your current boss at the local grocers market was close friends with the building manager, but your boss was also a sleaze who thought offering you an extra 10% off of your weekly shop and an expired coupon for the coffee joint down the street would be enough to get into your pants. he was just another thing on your list that you hated about the world, about the current life you lead but you needed to keep him close to keep your rent low and a roof over your head.

besides, it had been a few days since you last saw him at work— the asshole was probably taking a few days to himself while you and your colleagues practically ran the store.

you can’t leave kori with a sitter; they never worked with her. your daughter was far too temperamental for the average person and would spend one night with her before taking their pay and quitting. the only person able to handle your beloved little girl was the old lady who lived two floors above yours, mrs. yamamoto. she was a sweet woman, widowed by fifteen years and had taken a liking to kori that one time you’d helped with her groceries when she couldn’t make it out in the february winter after your little girl was born.

it seemed kori liked mrs yamamoto as well, she was only ever quiet in the woman’s presence and you put it down to how high she had the heat up in her apartment. one time, it was up so high the power in the building went out for an entire night— which was hell for you since kori wouldn’t stop bawling. however; you appreciated the help, you’re sure that without the help of the elder woman you would have been far under the surface— drowning in regret.

but sometimes, it’s easy for the darker emotions to slip through the cracks— take a choke hold over your sanity. there would be nights where guilt would consume you and tears would flow heavily down your cheeks while your daughter slept. it was hard being alone, no one to confide in about the troubles of parenting or to reassure you that you were doing a good job at taking care of your child.

it didn’t help that winter was coming up again, kori’s first birthday fast approaching. the sudden milestone only made you wish that dabi was around more — it hurt you to know that there was possibility he’d run out on you and his responsibilities as a father but part of you believed that your lover was better. the eldest todoroki son appeared way too excited throughout your pregnancy to leave you with nothing.

despite not being able to make it to appointments due to his criminal nature, dabi had somehow manged to find the money to get you a 4D ultra sound of your baby, telling you a few odd jobs here and there allowed him to scrape the cash together. you never asked what it was that he did, afraid of what you might find in the eyes of the man that you loved so much.

why did you allow yourself to love a man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day if he hadn’t broken into your home? his seafoam eyes a glowing shade as he threatened your life through shards of broken glass and then wails of cop sirens outside. were you just as broken as he? had you not realised it yet? you could blame this whole mess on the fact that he kept coming back, but you always let him back in. dabi was a broken man who only knew blood and grit and grime and you were the girl with a chance to lead a normal life— yet you poured all of your heart and all of your soul into loving him because you were so sure that you could fix him.

and every single time you’d convinced him, convinced yourself that what you had could be normal and domestic— dabi would slip between your sheets, pinning you to your bed with your name heavy on your lips and the emotion of love painted into the turquoise flecks in his eyes. they burned with passion while his heated cock sunk between your plush thighs and welcomed him into your warmth. the moans you’d share while your skin slapped together, creating a bubble of safety where you were the only two people on the world.

dabi made promises against your swollen lips as his fingers swirled hidden messages of desire into your slick, puffy clit. he couldn’t give you the ring, the wedding or the house with the white picket fence and dog barking at the post man in the front yard— but he could give you every part of him from the good to the bad, the beautiful to the ugly and he would seal that promise with a throaty groan of ‘you are mine and i am yours...’ into your ear as you came together.

but it seemed that like all things, dabi’s promises were broken like shattered glass— never meant to be kept or eternalised. the shards cut your delicate fingers, the pain numbed as you were left to pick up the pieces and be strong for the small life you were now responsible for.

you were careful to not let the door fly in and hit the wall opposite as you unlocked it, stumbling into your two bedroom with kori’s chubby legs locked around your hips and bag full of groceries in your other hand. “look princess,” you coo down at your daughter sweetly, watching as she drools all over your staff lanyard from work. “we’re home!” bending down, you dropped the produce off by the door before heading off to your living room area, propping kori in front of her toy mat.

smiling down at her, you brush the pure white hair that curls over her cobalt eyes and kiss her freckled cheeks— heart swooning at the way kori giggles in your arms. she’d been on her best behaviour the entire week, keeping out of trouble with the staff at her daycare and mrs yamamoto in the place upstairs, so it was only right that you treat her.

“you hungry babygirl? want mommy to make your favourite, hm?” kori is barely old enough to talk aside from a few babbles and repeats of mama but that doesn’t stop you from asking.

“mmmamamamaa!!”

you press another kiss to her baby fat cheeks before heading to the kitchen to prepare her favourite dinner— spaghetti. ever since kori started eating her solids, she hadn’t been a picky eater and you noticed that her appetite much resembled dabi’s, who couldn’t afford to be fussy about any of the meals you’d made for him before he disappeared.

making the sauce is easy, a dish you’d prepared from when you were a child and used to cook with your parents— you retrieve the ingredients from the groceries and pull out the stuff you’ll need to cook them. you mince the vegetables easily like you’d been taught as your mind gets away from you.

you wish that dabi was here to enjoy the domesticity of your current life— maybe him being around would lift the dark cloud over your life. sometimes it hurt to know that he would be missing out on moments like this and you could imagine him sitting by the couch while kori played with her toys and you cooked for them both. in this world, he’d laugh at her fascination with colder toys and magnets— make a joke about how much your little girl resembles him and kiss your cheek when you served them both up their favourite meals.

tears pool in your eyes at the thought of your wish never being granted and that’s all it takes for you to slip and cut your finger while chopping up the garlic. “fuck!” you boss, dropping the knife and squeezing your hand around the wounded digit. you know that the clattering of the knife has scared kori, and from the way she looks at you, you can already tell that she’s seen you injure yourself. “god, fuck...that hurt.”

there’s a pause in time, while you rinse your cut under the tap, cold water soothing the sting before kori starts to wail like her life depends on it. in a rush, you grab a tea towel in hopes that it’ll stop the bleeding and head straight for your baby, hoping that you’ll be able to soothe her. by the time you reach kori, her eyes are red with tears and snot dribbles from her nose down to her chin while she babbles loosely all the new words she’s learned— in a whiny tone.

“baby, don’t cry mommy’s got you,” you murmur to her, reaching out to the little girl with open arms. your heart breaks at the way her bottom lip wobbles in a watery pout. kori crawls into your arms, white mop of soft baby hair buried into the junction between your shoulder and your neck— her tiny body shakes with awful heaves and cries while her tears dampen the old hoodie of her father’s that you wear, effectively ruining the fabric. “come on honey, it’s okay! momma didn’t mean to scare you...”

she snivels in your arms, quiet for only a second while you walk around the apartment bouncing her. walking kori up and down seems to soothe her for the most part, a trick that worked when she was first born and had her horrible crying fits. “good girl, mama’s got you...” you continue to soothe her, brushing a finger under her white lashes to remove her tears. all is well for a second and it seems her tantrum has calmed, until she grabs onto your wounded finger and makes you curse in pain again.

“shit!”

“m-momma-!” kori whimpers, face creasing in pain as her cheeks start to heat up again. you fear that if you don’t do something soon she’ll bust a lung from crying.

you shake your head in an attempt to calm her down, baby sobs striking right through your body and resume bouncing her, hoping that it’ll work. “shhh kori, honey, it’s okay— mommy’s okay and so are you...” in the process of comforting her, you somehow trip over the discarded knife, sending it flying into the cabinets across from the island and making another loud noise that further spooks kori.

at this she screams bloody murder, the sound of her little chest heaving giving you a splitting headache. you were tired, tired of your daughter’s crying , working long hours with no help and raising a child all on your own. you were tired of the pain spreading through your head and your body and your heart. you needed an out or break at the very least.

you should feel guilty for what you’re about to do, heading for the nursery with a heaving baby in your grip. you can’t think of anything better to do than put kori down for a nap and hope that her crying tires her out— you do your best to pry the little girl from clinging onto your clothes and tuck her into her crib as she sniffles, quickly backing out of her room before she can call for you and make you feel even worse than you already do.

you close the door quietly behind you, somewhat sliding down it while your own sobs take over your body— shaking you violently as you hug your knees to your chest. you don’t know how long you sit there, biting your lips and holding onto in your whimpers while tears stream down the apples of your cheeks, but eventually

you find yourself drifting off with dreams of your happy family.

you jump awake a few hours later, surrounded by a thick darkness from the sky outside. the hum of the city streets helps to bring you back down to earth as you rub the sleep from your puffy eyes and blink away the exhaustion. you don’t quite remember when you’d fallen into a slumber but you figure that kori must have eventually, judging by the quietness that surrounds your apartment.

the blanket of the night allows your guilt to burn brightly in your chest— you shouldn’t have left her alone. scrambling to your feet, you stumble over to the kitchen counter and grab your phone to read the time. 11:06pm. it’s just about time that you check on your daughter, but with two steps of heading to the nursery and you’re met with foreign sound that doesn’t quite fit in with the usual creaks and squeaks of your apparent.

happy gurgles belonging to your baby creep out from underneath her bedroom door, low humming or singing to accompany her sweet sound. humming that you don’t recognise. with a pang of fear to your heart, you reach for the knife on your kitchen floor as a weapon of defence— this would go down nicely with the police. a single mother on self defence...yeah, that could work out.

the knife shakes in your hand as you approach kori’s nursery, barely steady even when you push open the door.

“...touya?”

nothing could prepare you for what you’d see after walking into that room but when your eyes fall witness to your love standing in the centre of the room with a little tuft of white hair cradled to his bare chest. the air around you tingles with warmth as if dabi has heated the place up with his quirk and your little girl curls into him as if she’s known him all her life. but she hadn’t, he hadn’t.

all at once, your heart heals just as it breaks— it’s been so long since you’ve seen the villain that you can’t help but notice all the changes in him, the way his eyes droop a little more with exhaustion and his hair dusted with a the slightest bit of white. he was noticeably thinner too, maybe from being away from a warm bed and good food for too long...so a half of you was relieved that he was home, the other— hurt and betrayed.

“hey beautiful,” dabi’s timbre voice fills your entire being, stimulating your senses into a dull tingle. his lips a drawn into soft smirk as he rocks kori back and forth, your baby’s eyes flutter with the gentle indication of sleep. “how’ya been?”

if you weren’t frozen in shock, you would have given the villain a piece of your mind. how dare he...after all this time apart from you, from his daughter...ask how you were doing? your eyes flutter to the open window behind the oldest todoroki son, as if you need to look away from him to convince yourself he’s real and he won’t disappear when you look back.

proven right by meeting the cool, chartreuse sea of his eyes— your throat runs dry as all you’d ever dreamed of saying in this moment, flees from your mind. “what are you doing here?” you say, trying to sound firm even though your voice falls through.

touya stays quiet, twirling a long finger through the small curls on his—your daughter’s head. “i was in the neighbourhood.” he mumbles, gaze tearing away from you to focus on the content infant he has in his arms.

you should feel angry, you should be screaming and kicking at dabi— forcing him out of your home with your child safe in your own arms but your body doesn’t will you to. hurt seeps through your veins at the casual aura in his tone. of course dabi would treat the situation as if it never existed and that he’d been with you the whole time. the pain of seeing him with her as if he’d been in kori’s life from the very start wraps around your heart in a poisonous grip and squeezes hard until you’re choking back a sob, letting it sit in the base of your throat.

you refuse to break in front of him.

“you need to go. you need to put her down and you need to leave.” you attempt to assert yourself in a harsh bark, almost making dabi jump. he’d never seen you like this before, but then again he hadn’t seen you in a year. he could only imagine what motherhood had done to you, especially facing it on your own. touya hesitates, kori shifting in his soft grip— one he didn’t even know that he had as a villain but you steady yourself and repeat your words. “touya, i said you need to leave.”

“why? so you can fall asleep and leave her crying on her own again?” the villain spits out, harsher than he intended. he watches your face fall and your body curl in on itself and he feels bad. dabi had promised you a lot of things since realising he loved you, and not hurting you like his father hurt his mother was one that he’d just broken. relenting, the dark haired villain eases kori from his pec and tucks her into her crib.

there’s a beat of silence and then. “i’m sorry.”

“you should be.”

“yn,” he sighs, running a hand through the light roots of his hair as he leans over his child’s crib. the young father tilts his head, scanning kori’s face while he identifies every characteristic she has from the family he’d done his best to free himself of. “i’m sorry, it’s just— just that she was cold and crying, so i took off my shirt and held her and she warmed up and—“ dabi pauses his quiet rambling, finally looking up from the slumbering baby tucked away into powder blue silk and locks eyes with you. “and she probably has my mom’s shitty quirk. and i can’t get over how much she looks like them, how big she’s gotten.”

touya finds his shirt after admitting that, throwing on the thin white material before closing the window he came through. he moves with the swiftness that comes with his job, and it’s almost peaceful to watch. you stay plastered by the door, torn between falling right into the palm of his hand and demanding the answers that you and your daughter deserve.

it makes you feel a little sick when he gazes down at kori with pride, it makes you queasy at how easy she was to handle to him. touya todoroki doesn’t know half of what it was to raise his child...but did that make you a bad mother? was there something he shared with kori that you didn’t? dabi hadn’t known what it was to love someone other than himself until he’d met you, but you’d spent your entire life around family and friends who took care of you and made you feel cherished every day. you had all of that before you had dabi, and you’d given it all up for him.

shouldn’t you be the one to easily put your daughter down for a nap? to soothe her tears? and for him to come so briskly into your lives and take care of it all when he doesn’t even know what you’d been through, hurts most of all.

“you don’t even know her,” you start, tremble to your bottom lip as the sob in your throat builds up and threatens to burst. “you never saw her after she was born, never cut the cord, never knew her weight. you don’t know how tiny she was when she came into the world, you don’t know because you didn’t come!” with each word, stray tears manage to escape from your tired eyes, but you’re too fixated on dabi to bother to wipe them. it hurts to cry, it stings even as they stream down the apples of youth cheeks but you don’t move.

“yn, sweetness, i—“

“i know how much she weighed when she was born, four pounds and thirteen ounces. she was so tiny i was scared that she would break—“ you’re gasping now, almost choking yourself out on the pain that burns brightly in your lungs and claws its way up your throat. “i know her favourite foods, what fabrics irritate her skin, her favourite stuffed toys, how she likes to be swaddled in her blankets at night or that her curls make her face itch but they’re practically untameable.”

you start to heave, losing breath with every word and dabi does nothing but watch, keeping an eye on kori to make sure she stays sleeping as he steps towards you. “i know that i love her more than i’ve loved anything in my entire life, despite how much i suffered alone bringing her into this world. and i know that i named her kori after the ice that frosted the windows of my hospital room while i waited for... you.”

touya remains emotionless while you descend into madness, letting you cry it out. “i’ve been watching...”

you want to scream, beat his chest and blame him for how insane you’ve become. “watching isn’t enough touya, she needed you. i-i needed you.” you whimper, falling limp against the door frame as your hands move threateningly towards your hair as if you’re going to rip it out from the root. “...you couldn’t come and visit? not once i-in the eleven months that she’s been alive? not once while she’s been breaking me down and giving—“

“giving you a hard time? i tried, i took care of you from afar...i’m the one who made your boss disappear. the one who put his hands on you.” dabi sneers towards the end of his once gentle words, standing a breaths width away from you. you hate that you crave the same touch from him as he gave to kori, but you’re still so mad at him.

eventually, it all becomes too much and you succumb to the tears that wrack your exhausted body. you sway with each choked wail that tumbles from between your chapped lips and dabi surges forward to catch you after kicking the knife from earlier away, letting you sink into the warmth of his embrace. he feels like home, smells like safety and not a word is uttered as he brings you to the floor and cradles you like he did with his daughter.

dabi doesn’t need to say sorry when he shows you through how close he holds you to his heart.

when you finally calm down, dabi lifts you bridal style to your bathroom and draws you a bath with the salts and lavender extract from the cupboard above the sink. neither of you speak except for when he softly offers to help you undress— to which you decline— and when he tells you he’s going to fix something to eat.

you knew damn well that the villain could not cook, he hadn’t been when he was little since endeavour took away the entirety of his childhood and you’d only taught him the basics when he was still on the run and stopped by your place from time to time. his favourite thing back then had been to watch you cook to the weird music you kept playing, hips swaying to the beat and a sparkle in your eyes— but you didn’t do that anymore, he could tell those days were long gone.

dabi orders in takeout in the end and you have half a mind to curse him out for using your money— but the day’s events have exhausted you beyond your wits end, so you eat with him in silence atop your double bed after dressing in an old shirt of his. “stay the night.” is what you tell him, scared that he’ll leave. he puts his cigarette out on your balcony. the doors usually stayed locked so kori couldn’t crawl out on her own but you opened it for him since dabi liked to smoke and you hated the ash.

he promised to quit back then, and he hadn’t now.

“i’ll stay.” dabi says, throwing the butt over the ledge and stripping his clothes as he follows you to bed. he decides not to mention he wanted to stay anyway. you peel back the covers enough for him to slip in behind you, heated arms wrapping around your waist and settling on your tummy, where he rubs small patterns into your skin. the villain’s chest is overwhelmingly warm against your back— reminding you of the days where you would spoon and he’d wait with baited breath for kori to kick.

both of you lay together, wide awake in the dark for goodness knows how long. touya’s breath balmy against the nape of your neck and if you focused hard enough, you could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your skin. he pretends to sleep, refusing to acknowledge that his proximity to you affects him in the worst of ways— evident in how his prominent hard on presses against the swell of your ass.

rolling over, your heart skips a beat at the way your love’s eyes still manage to glow brightly in the dark— ignited by the flames of his quirk and emotions of angst from the past.

they flicker as he looks to you, pale skin illuminated by the silver moon slipping in from your balconies, scars as enticing as ever. tentatively, you reach a hand out to cup his face, not kidding the apprehension that paint his matured features even as you run your fingers down the scars on his jaw. “been a while since we’ve been like this,” is all you can muster up, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek while your free hand snakes between your bodies in an attempt to pleasure the man.

fear strikes you right in the chest, leaving you panting as dabi flips you onto your back quickly, pinning your wrists against the bed. “don’t,” he growls, almost feral in tone and in his eyes. “don’t do something you might regret in the morning.”

you lay still, staring at the man above you in an attempt to read him. doing so had always been hard, but tonight you can see every detail of his life and every part of him. the fear of being his father and disappointing another group of people, a broken man torn between the people he loved and the life he led— you could finally see him. you wondered if it hurt him to be away from you and his child, if he ever thought of you.

you take a deep breath, fabric of the sheets fuzzy in your ears as you shake your head up at him. “i could never regret being with you,” you sigh, dabi’s gaze lowering. “i just need you...”

your proclamation is all the permission dabi needs before he ascends on your neck, almost whimpering at the taste of your skin against his tongue. you know that he’s avoiding your lips, scared that things may not feel the same if he kisses you there— as if your love might have fizzled out from the months that you’ve been apart. the villain’s mouth is hot against your skin, sharp teeth sinking into the column of your throat— it’s not hard for him to find the spots that make your back arch and body tingle, the dark haired man would be embarrassed to admit that he had your body mapped out in his brain. you were all that he thought about in the months between then and now.

you miss his lips, but you fear that if you push your love to far he’ll clam up and withdraw from you completely. you can’t lose him while you have him now. in the meantime, your bodies press against one another hotly, burning while dabi paints shades of blue and purple deeper than his eyes against your flesh before lapping at each love bite with an odd tenderness people wouldn’t think he possessed at first glance. as he works, touya loses grip on your wrists, allowing them free roam across the expanse of his back.

your nails leave light tracks across his back, trailing up from his muscled back to the nape of his neck— curling in the white roots of his hair in an attempt to tug him up to your lips. “baby,” the old pet name tumbles from between them before you can catch yourself, laboured from where you’re short of breath. “please kiss me, please..”

with newly mussed hair, dabi is still for a moment before leaving one last mark at where your jaw meets your neck— wet tongue lolling over the fresh bruise while his large palm move back to cup your head. a thumb belonging to a scared hand runs over your bottom lip, pulling the plump flesh down while he watches your face for a reaction. “are you sure that’s what you want, beautiful?” the villain chuckles into the dark of the night, pink muscle running over his own lips to wet them in anticipation. “you want your man to kiss you?”

your senses go into overdrive, desperate for any kind of contact from the man above you— he feels so close and yet, a million miles away, even with his body making its way between your thighs and your chests pressing together eagerly.

“touya—“ you breathe, barely able to finish your sentence before the man himself delves deep into your mouth. his lips move with hesitance at first, sucking on yours slightly and parting for air more often than he should but you grip him by the whites of his hair firmly and tug him further into the kiss. your tongue dances along the seam of his lips, prying them open as you seek permission for entrance— dabi groans lowly as you tug on his roots and force your way into his mouth, tasting him as if it were your last time.

you swallow each of his moans that mingle softly with your own, while your tongues dance together messily— the kiss were and sloppy as if the two of you were out of practice. your worries fly out of the window from there, it’s good to know that neither of you had been with others during your time apart instead you feel like a teenager making out with their highschool crush for the very first time. dabi’s hips rut into the plush bed beneath you both and you can tell that even the slightest touches are riling him up beyond belief— it’d been almost a year since he’d felt you against him in any way and it didn’t help that you were so ready to accept him.

that you still wanted him.

whimpering at the thought, the villain pauses against your lips to catch his breath— panting softly. you can feel him pulling away, questioning if he deserves to be with you after everything he’d put you through. so, cupping dabi’s jaw, you let your free hand slip between your heated bodies and glide your fingertips along the waist band of his sweats.

“yn, i ain’t so sure about this,” dabi sighs, body twitching at the proximity of your hands to his hardness, his eyelids flutter shut and lock away his beautiful blue eyes— holding fear, insecurity and desire. “what if ya’still regret this later on?”

smiling up at him, you thumb at his cheek and work your hand deeper into his pants, past his underwear. “you’ve been away too long baby, i would regret not being with you more,” you coo up at him just as you grasp at his hardened length, watching as dabi shudders in your grip. his cock leaks hotly against your soft palm from going untouched for so long, your fingers explore him— tracing down the thick veins on the underside of his length. “let me make you feel good tonight.”

“fuck, sweetness. talk pretty with that filthy fuckin’ mouth of yours.” touya breathes heavily against your mouth, both of yours falling open in hot moans. cheekily, you run a thumb over his tip, circling the slit at the top. dabi collapses on top of you, burying his mop of salt and pepper hair into your neck as he drives his hips into your hand at his own leisurely pace. “y’better live up to those words—shit, don’t go letting me down, princess.” jade orbs finally open, heavy with lust and desire as the air around you tingles with a newfound desire to make each other feel good, settling on the planes of your marked and scratched skin.

your grip around dabi tightens while he fucks into your closed fist, wet sounds filling the room from where he leaks at his bright red tip— almost hot as his hands that dance up your sides and tenderly touch at your hips. so unsure, yet so needy. clear, thick precum guides the movement of your hand as it slides up and down your lover’s girth— he’s much bigger than you remember, swollen with an impending orgasm and dabi stutters when you reach further down his boxers to grip at weighty balls full of his seed, just about ready to burst.

he howls from deep within his chest, the noise only muffled from the drool that glides across his tongue before the villain’s wandering and scarred palms stop at your rib cage, settling just under your breasts. you don’t bother to stop pleasuring him even as his quirk ignites, blue flames burning right through your night shirt to expose your skin to the cool night air. without even a second thought, dabi’s mouth ascends on your tits, taking one into the hot cavern while his free hand seers marks over the other.

the thought have being branded by your man makes your hips jump and your hand squeeze his cock in your grip— a reminder of what’s to come later on. his strawberry tongue rolls across your hardened nipple and you yelp in surprise with the sudden feeling of cool metal across the exposed flesh. “y-you have your tongue pierced?” you squeal as dabi repeats his actions, loving the way you arch your back into his mouth and your heart rate speeds up.

“never know when a bit of metal’s gonna come in handy, sugar tits.”

you barely have time to formulate a response before your boyfriend’s mouth is back on you, biting and sucking and marking your raw flesh like a man starved of his last meal— you don’t let up either, quickly pumping his cock as he continues to leak, painting your hand with teases of his incoming release. you’re sure that his sweatpants and the sheets below you will be stained with his arousal from how much precum oozes from his dick, slicking up your hands and creating the perfect flashlight but you don’t dare to think of anything else but the way dabi’s face twists with pleasure as he desperately thrusts himself into the softness of your palm.

his cheeks flush red, globs of drool connecting the roof of his mouth to his tongue while his eyes grow fuzzy at each step he takes closer to orgasm, the very drool from his mouth covers each of your breasts as dabi switches between them— creating a layer of wet against your supple skin that shines under the moon. you flick your wrist around him, faster, harder— giving the villain everything you’ve got to make him feel good.

“shit pretty girl, y’gonna make me...cum,” touya shakes in your grip, eyes crossing and tongue becoming lazy against your marked up chest. his salvia pools against your skin while he pants and fucks your wet hand as if it were your pretty little cunt clamping down on him. “fuck, fuck, fuck. don’t you fuckin’ stop, don’t you dare fuckin’ stop...”

he barks out the demands, but there’s a neediness to his tone and whine to his voice that makes you grin with pride, even if you’re barely there from having your nipples stimulated beyond belief. “cum for me touya, please, wanna feel you come undone for me.” you beg him, ever so slightly and it’s just enough to push the villain over the edge, sending him into an earth shattering orgasm. you don’t dare to stop as you jerk him off, guiding down from his high as his cock twitches from release and paints your knuckles with the thick white of his seed. he mewls contendly into your breasts, slowing his hips while the world of colours dance behind his cerulean eyes.

“here with me yet?” you murmur to him, grasping his wild locks to tilt his head up towards your face— dabi looks so blissed out but the smirk on his raw and bitten lips tells you the night is far from over.

pressing a searing kiss to your sternum, your boyfriend’s pierced tongue makes yet another appearance as he trails the muscle down your soft tummy— biting your navel as he goes. “never left gorgeous, but don’t you fucking dare think for a second that this is over, y’got that?” he sits up quickly, grabbing hold of your doughy thighs and using them to pull you down the bed. the pads of his fingers start to burn marks into your skin, dancing along your legs and stopping just above the waistband of your underwear. “gotta stretch this cunt open before i give you my cock, remind you of who the fuck you belong to.”

spreading your thighs nice and wide, you release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding as dabi’s hands finally come into contact with your slit, prodding at your slick folds from over your panties. lowering his face between your open legs, your boyfriend hums in satisfaction as he peels your sticky panties away from your pussy. “why, babydoll, you’re so fucking wet down here. this can’t all be for me, can it?” touya teases you, hot breath fanning against your unused sex while his fingers play with the string of your slick that coats them. “y’must’ve missed your man badly for your lil cunt to look this fucked up, s’pecially when i haven’t even touched’ya yet.”

you shiver and nod weakly, willing to say or do anything to feel more of your boyfriend against you. “s’all for you dabi, o-only you could get me this wet, n-no one else could take your place...” you mewl, hips bucking into the air while the man himself watches you grow needier and needier, hormones expelled into the air. dabi grins, leaning into your core once more to press his nose into your wetness, sniffing your spiked panties like the dirty man he is— only to then lay his pierced tongue flat against your folds, tracing your hole with the muscle while his nose bumps at your clothed clit.

“saved this all for me, huh? you’re so loyal, sweetness. waiting for me all this time…” he kitten licks at your cunt until you’re writhing amongst the already solid sheets, forcing his spit into your hole from over the thin fabric of your panties, creating a more prominent outline of your puffy lower lips as your thighs quieter around his head. they threaten to close as he works on you through your underwear— teasing and prodding at your sex to see if you respond the same way to his touches as you used to.

you force your shaking through his black and white locks, grabbing hold of his roots in an attempt to pull dabi back to your heat when he lifts his head from between your thighs— pushing your lips into a pout. “no, no no, baby, please— need you to eat my cunt, want your mouth on me, please!” you cry out, but you’re quickly pacified by his scarred hand which cups your pussy— seat of his hand grinding into your clit.

“god, if i had known you were still this eager to fuck me i woulda come home a long time ago, babydoll.” he chuckles, licking up your inner thigh and biting down on the plush flesh. “need’ta get rid of these though, they’re getting in my way.” the villain gestures to your panties, making you watch as his quirk burns it’s way through the silky material until it’s nothing but ash against your sheets. you gasp as soon as your cute little pussy is exposed to the cool air, missing the warmth of touya’s pink tongue against it. “better.” he sneers, eyes bright and glowing in the dark with a new sense of feral desire.

thick digits press into your tight hole at the same time touya takes to sucking on your swollen clit, forcing their way up your velvet walls in search for your pleasure spot. dabi chuckles against your sticky folds as you begin to whine, hips rolling up into your lover’s face while his tongue draws rough patterns onto your bud. you’ve missed him, missed this. the nights where the villain dabi would sneak into your home, becoming your touya todoroki between the four walls that you shared— where you would spend nights seeing stars by his hand or his cock and he would make you his over and over again. the memories have you clamping down on his digits like there’s no tomorrow, greedily sucking them in as he strokes at the walls of your sex and makes your whole body shake.

touya works hard at pleasuring you, apologising for his absence through slurping the juices from your folds only for you to gush and paint his scarred chin with more of your nectar. the way you taste makes him dizzy, he could spend the rest of his life between your thighs and never miss the outside world like he did before tonight. he wants to be good for you, make you feel good too and it’s not enough to feel the ecstasy roll off of your heavenly body in waves— he wants all of you, mind, body and soul to belong to him.

you can barely breathe, leaking with every swipe of his tongue against you and every twist of his fingers inside of you. you can feel everything at once, the euphoria crackling across your brain, high on the way touya makes you feel. “god, t-touya, don’ stop...feel so fucking good…” you heave in a drawn out moan, barely able to tell what’s up and what’s down as the villain pulls his fingers from your slick hole and replaces them with his tongue ( only after they’ve pushed down on your g-spot over and over again ).

“you’re not the one giving orders, sweet stuff, oh no.” dabi reminds you sloppily, looking like a child with no table manners as your nectar smears across his face. for his own satisfaction, he delivers a harsh smack to your pussy, watching as your entire body jolts and jumps up the bed. “your cunt is mine and i’ll do what i want with it, show you how much i missed it.”

his possessive words almost set you off, the knot in your stomach growing tighter with every pinch of your nub and every swirl on his tongue inside your walls, committing every ridge to memory. your body burns and you’re not sure if it’s from dabi pressing against you so hotly or because of the desire that fuels the fire inside you.

“yours, yours, yours!” you chant like a mantra, high pitched and whiny— your voice mixing with the crude sounds of your own pathetic cunt, that grows louder when dabi spits on your clit to add to your wetness. he lets it drip between your folds, fingers to busy with stimulating you to catch it before it slides between your lower cheeks, opting to use his tongue on you instead.

“ya’like that don’t you? missed your whinin’ pretty girl, fuck, even missed making you a fucking mess.” you keen into his touch, babbling incoherent praises to the man between your legs as he spreads you wider by the ass with one hand and forces his fingers back into your cunt with the other. his fingers curl into a come hither motion, repeatedly pressing down on your spongy spot as he sloppily makes out with your puffy nub— taking only one, two, three strokes to make your eyes roll into the back of your skull and your orgasm to wash over you.

your body convulses, shaking as you’re hit hard by your release— juices gushing all over your lover’s face even as he refuses to let up. “t-touya no...no no...can-can’t,” you whinge, tears clumping in your lashes. dabi spreads your lips again, using three digits instead of two to continue stimulating your clit until another release builds up inside your lower belly— clear liquid gushing out of your abused pussy and staining the sheets below.

he hums proudly, pressing a lasting kiss to your fluttering hole before reaching up to your lips to do the same, barely allowing you the time to catch your breath— chest heaving while you come down from your high. “so pretty when you squirt for me like that, sweetness,” dabi moans into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on him. but as soon as he comes, he’s gone— rolling you onto your stomach and lifting your hips so your ass sits in the air for him. “gonna take my cock now, kay?”

“kay,” you mumble into the sheets, brain too fuzzy to resist as the villain manhandles you the way he wants.

after shoving down his sweatpants, the eldest todoroki grips the peachy soft flesh of your ass— smacking it a few times with his heat activated palms to watch the flesh jiggle and his handprint sink into the skin. you lean back, watching over your shoulder as his cock stands at full attention, hard from seeing you come undone on his fingers and tongue. it burns bright red at the tip, another fat glob of precum making it shine and making you dribble with anticipation. “y’such a fuckin’ slut, my beautiful slut… hungry for my cock even after i’ve wrecked your lil pussy so bad,” dabi says with a cocky lilt to his voice, the very tone making your hole clench around nothing. he taps his sticky cockhead against your slit, running it up and down your cunt three or four times— groaning as it slides between your cheeks. the sensation causes your back to arch as you wail, fingers gripping the bed covers so tight that you almost cause them to tear. “don’t you worry baby, ‘m gonna make up for lost time, you don’t have to miss me anymore.”

there’s a double meaning to his words that you don’t ask him to elaborate on, too caught up in the way he teases your hole as he dips his length in— only to pull it right back out. “don’t tease, need you badly,” you plead, earning yourself another harsh spank to your raw ass cheeks.

“shut the fuck up and let me fuck you,” the words are harsh against his tongue, but dabi utters them softly as he relents to his wishes. his cerulean gaze flutters down to where your bodies begin to join, his large hand gripping his length before he starts to push into your dribbling entrance. “god, you’re s’fuckin’ tight, you might as well be a virgin.” pussy spasming at his words, you leak against touya’s cock, creating a lewd squelching sound as he pushes more of himself into you. the weight of dabi’s thick girth causes painful, yet delicious burn which he eases by rubbing soothing circles into your clit once more. “been s’long, i outta fuck you open again, huh?”

“uhuh, take me again touya. make me yours, all over again.” you slur over the spit drowning your tongue, eyes fluttering shut when the villain’s hips surge forward his dick brushes against your cervix. his rough, calloused palm grabs your neck from behind, forcing you down into the sheets while he bottoms out inside of you and pushes the last of his cock past your entrance. the two of you groan in unison, touya sitting heavy inside of your walls before you muster up the energy to say. “move.”

he doesn’t need to be told twice, whilst dabi was enjoying the feeling of being engulfed by your soft, warm insides— cock twitching in relief from time to time— he finds it within him to pull back from your selfish cunt to thrust into you with all his might. the force pulls a broken squeal from between your bitten and bruised lips, your hips pushing back against dabi to keep him inside of you. the pair of you move in sync, bodies dancing in a sensual grind between lovers that moulds your cunt into the shape of your boyfriend once more. “oh fuck yeah baby, oooh, missed your cunny s’bad…” dabi yowls loudly, listening for the squashy sounds of your sexes moving against one another. “christ, you like when i talk about your pathetic little pussy like this?”

you bite down on your lower lip, embarrassed by your own bleats of pleasure when he degrades you like this. annoyed by your lack of answer, touya grabs onto your hips and pulls you off of his cock, only to slam them back into you seconds later. his pace is unforgiving and relentless from there, forcing your body up the bed with every thrust into your core. “yes! like it, love it, missed your cock so bad touya!” you cry, holding onto the sheets for dear life as his dick drags along your pleasure spots and his hands burn marks into your ass and hips.

weakly, you attempt to match his thrusts. circling the meat of your ass back onto dabi and squeezing around the head of his girth every time it plunges into your sopping pussy. your arousals mix as he pounds away at your hole, a thick string hanging between your bodies and dribbling down your inner thighs, tainting innocent skin. the wet noise reverberates across the room, creating a passionate symphony with dabi’s deep, pitiful moans.

even though it had been a while since the two of you had been intimate like this, dabi still knew all the ways to get your body going. he took you from behind but still let his marred hands wonder and explore the planes of your skin, pinching here and there, marking your body as his to use and his alone. there’s love hidden beneath his rough touches, little signs that he missed having you so close to him— having you split open on his cock while you dripped on his pelvis and ruined your bedsheets, was his own way of unleashing his pent up emotions of love, anger and despair onto you and you wanted it. you wanted his good and his bad while he fucked you like his life depended on it, balls deep inside the pussy of the woman he loved was where he was most vulnerable with you.

“s-shit, sweetness, you’re such a pretty mess, so fucked up on my cock, can feel you clamping around me like my greedy bitch should.” you’re stuffed so full, clenching every time touya drives his cock deeper into your gummy cunt, head prodding at the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you. he’s losing his mind at how you choke out his iron hot girth, clear liquid seeping down your thighs at every thrust. “you’re my beautiful brain dead baby, letting me fuck you like this, yeah? missed you baby, missed this,” despite his words, touya is no better than you, mind hazy with thoughts of you creaming around him because of how good he’s made you feel. him, and no one else. you saved yourself for him after all these months, the least he could do was bring you to cloud nine.

he does so by angling his thrusts up to meet your pleasure spot every time, howling your name in the way he knows you like just to feel your hot cunny spew more of your juices out against his tummy. “missed you, thought about this for months,” you lament, elbows that kept you up finally giving out as your body tiredly collapses into the sheets— dabi’s balls still clapping against your ass. he follows you down into bed covers, chest pressing hotly against your back as the jackhammers into you from behind. “thought about your fat cock in my tight pussy, t-touched myself to you...made being alone worth it, made waiting for you to come home worth it. ‘cause i get to see your beautiful face when you fuck me…” you barely register what you’re saying, babbling incorrectly while the temperature of your body rises with your level of arousal.

behind you, touya’s cheeks burn with a new feeling. deep down, all he wanted was to be validated as a lover to you, he’d always been deemed as the bad guy incapable of feeling anything for anyone other than himself. but you, you had proved him wrong so many times and he still found your words hard to believe. yet, it felt good to know how much you loved him. snaking a hand down to your face, the villain squishes your cheeks together and brings you up to his own face despite the arch to your back— he keeps up his sinful pace, your lower cheeks bouncing with every push and pull of his length while he drips a globule of his saliva into your pouting mouth. “shut up,” he grunts harshly, although love is written across his cobalt eyes.

you smile up at him dopily, keeping eye contact with him as you swallow gratefully. “anything for you,” his hands slip from your squashed cheeks to your throat, cupping it as he holds you against him. more arousal pools in your lower stomach, turned on by the thrill of him being able to end your life right then and there, all it would take would be one flame but you know more than anything that dabi loves you and would never hurt you. “i love you, touya todoroki. i a-always will.”

your admission makes dabi’s heart stop in his chest, heated pants tickling your ear as he continues to take you and claim your body as his. with newfound vigor, he links his free hand with yours that lays against the bed and rams his cock into your core as hard and as fast as he can, determined to make you cum. “i—oh fuck, i love you too, sweetness…” the arsonist can feel the way your cunt flutters around his girth at his confession, tears building up in your eyes once more. god, you were so pretty like this, arched for him perfectly in the moon, stars illuminating every curve and dip on your body— showing off the stretch marks from where you’d carried his child. everything about you turned him on in the best possible ways and everything about you that turned him on, also turned out to be everything he loved about you.

your stupid big heart, your stupid big eyes when you say that you love him, your stupid smile when he used to kiss you and hold you and even now when he fucked you. touya todoroki was in love and in the worst possible way but he couldn’t say he regretted a single moment of it, not when you stayed true to him after all these months of being apart. you raised his child and you loved him all the same and a part of him is grateful that you never turned your back on him like everyone else he’s ever loved.

so the least he could do is make love to you, push his creamy cock into the depth of your core while kissing down your spine to watch you shudder oh so cutely. it’s messy and sloppy and the pair of you should feel nasty for the stench of sex in the air, lingering against your skin. but you don’t, how could you? not when love and adoration tingles in the air as well, it’s messy because of the unadulterated emotions you feel for one another— deep in vulnerability is where dabi grinds his cock slowly into you, hitting all the right places that make you scream his name into the night. makes him mumble incoherent praises against your bruised neck and squished cheeks as he lewdly licks a stripe up the column of your neck to behind your ear.

you gush around him and he grunts with ecstasy into your ear, tightening that knot in your stomach as you both step closer to your highs. “you like the way i fill this cunt up, huh? yeah? when i hold you like this, when i fuck you like this?” dabi mutters to you lewdly, holding onto his sanity by a thin thread as his own release sneaks up on him. “tell me you like it...fuck sweetness, please.”

“i love the way you fuck me touya, fuck! only you can make me feel this good,” you moan to appease him, bouncing back against his cock while his hips begin to stutter and your eyes begin to cross. it’s true, you love belonging to him, being able to bring him such pleasure and you know he feels the same way. the villain prods at your g-spot over and over again, stealing your breath away as he pulls you up and into your chest, changing the angle of his hips to bring you to the last hurdle. “baby—ohmygod—-touya! ‘m sososo close, don’t stop...don’t stop, gonna cum, give it to me, give it to me please!” you chant, eyes fluttering shut as you lean your head back against his shoulder and search for his hand, voice rising with every octave as you get closer and closer.

“fucking cum for me sweet girl, shit, cum all over this fucking cock.” dabi manages through gritted teeth, grasping your hand while the pace of his thrusts grow inconsistent.

that’s all that you need to hear before the damn breaks and arousal floods through your entire body courses through your veins. white dances behind your eyes in flashes as your release flushes out of your pussy and drips between touya’s balls, coating them in a layer your honeyed slick. you slump against your boyfriend, not able to mutter a word as you convulse in a silent scream and squeeze both his hand and cock alike.

gently, he pushes you down to the bed and pulls his cock from your intoxicating heat— his free hand clasps around his cock, palming himself towards a swift release. “yeah, oh fuck yeah, fuckin’ love you baby,” he cums on your back and your ass, thick, potent and milky seed landing on your flushed skin before he collapses beside you and exhaustion settles in his bones.

you black out for a few minutes after, fingers still intertwined but dabi manages to slip out long enough to retrieve a washcloth that's damp and warm to clean you both up with. you wake up just as he crawls back into bed with you, kissing your hairline while he makes himself comfortable. “almost thought i’d killed you for a second,” the villain jokes, slinging a loose arm over your bare waist and pulling you to lay on his chest.

“you couldn’t, even if you tried.” you counter sleepily, drawing star shapes on your boyfriend’s naked stomach. a comfortable silence sweeps over the room, despite the thoughts that linger on your mind. looking up at dabi, you notice him drifting off but still can’t help the words that slip from your lips. “why didn’t you ever come back?”

you feel dabi’s chest rise and fall with a deep sigh, fingers coming up to scratch at your scalp— something that used to help you to sleep when you were together before. “i was figuring out a way to get out of the league, to be with you and kori.” he says after some time, catching your eye as you give him a confused look. “shigaraki doesn’t know about her, i never told him. but i knew from the moment we found out about her, i didn’t want her to be a part of the life i’m involved in and knowing how the league works, they’d find a way to make use of her.”

you stay quiet, not knowing what to do with the new information and dabi’s reasoning for staying away for so long. on one hand you were grateful to him for keeping your daughter quiet and safe but part of you still wished he’d given you a sign to let you know it’d all be okay. grabbing your chin, he forces you to look up at him—passionate flames burning in his eyes. “i need you to trust me on this one sweetness, i promise nothin’ will happen to you nor kori. so long as i’m around.”

“pinky promise?” you ask him sweetly, feeling the truth to his words.

you hold up your pinky to the villain’s face, smiling through exhaustion as he rolls his eyes down at you. “pinky promise, babydoll. now get some shut eye, kay?” touya links your pinky with his, scoffing when you make him kiss them.

“g’night, touya.”

“sleep well, babydoll.”

the bed is cold when you wake up the next morning.

the panic sets in quickly, speeding up with the chirping of birds from your balcony outside. you shouldn’t be tearing up over the childishness of a pinky promise. he always made you promises but never actually kept the and as quickly as dabi had waltzed back into your life, he had left you alone and in the cold once more.

gathering yourself together, you stumble out of your bed— avoiding any mirrors that may show the cascade of marks dabi had left against your skin from the previous night. you feel embarrassed and ashamed that you let him back into your life so easily, especially now that you had kori to think about. tears start to well in your tired and puffy eyes as you head to the kitchen, thinking that a mug of coffee will calm you down before you prep your daughter for the day.

but as you wander out of your room, the familiar sound of your baby girl’s laugher drifts through the air— seemingly coming from the kitchen. the sweet melody calls out to you and suddenly your casual stride to the kitchen becomes a brisk walk so you can reach her faster. “kori? baby? did you climb out of your crib again—?” you call out to her, stopping in your tracks when you round the corner.

dabi stands in the middle of your kitchen, still shirtless, with kori balanced on his hip— in one hand he holds a small blue flame, which you’re sure he believes is safe enough for kori to play with while the other steadies your baby girl while she claps and squeals. a first. you’re not too sure when the last time you’d seen her happy was, but you figure her father’s presence had something to do with it.

“i was going to make you breakfast, but the little shit woke up and i didn’t have enough free hands to make you a grilled cheese.” touya smirks over at you, diminishing his flame to grasp kori’s hand and use it to wave at you. she squeals happily, curls bouncing and eyes lighting up in a similar way to her father’s. your heart melts at the sight of them being together, seeing the mannerisms that they share and how joyous they seem. they both grinned the same way, shared the little twitch in their noses and even their sneezes. kori todoroki was an exact replica of touya todoroki, right down to the tiny red curl she had lost in her white locks.

“you know, i thought you’d left,” you make your way across to the island where dabi sets his daughter down and check her temperature— just in case her sudden change in mood is down to any sickness. “the bed was cold when i woke up.”

“didn’t i make you a promise last night, sweetness? i’m not going anywhere,” the arsonist reminds you, wrapping his arms around you from behind while you wipe at kori’s pudgy baby cheeks and give her the once over again. “if you’re checking the kid’s temperature, she's usually pretty cold because of my mom’s quirk. something ice related will be coming through, but she must’ve inherited your strong constitution. guess she has a normal body temp when i’m around ‘cause it balances her out.” while dabi explains the inner workings of kori’s incoming quirk, she claps and babbles excitedly from her place on the island— making a game out of throwing her toys off of it. all of dabi’s logic makes sense and you seem a little more relieved knowing how to take care of her from here.

picking her up, along with her stray toys, you set your baby down by her playmat again and switch on some baby-safe cartoons while you fix yourself and dabi some coffee, kissing all over kori’s face beforehand. he had whined when you pulled away the first time to give your daughter some attention, it was almost comical how the big bad villain had pouted then. “i wonder if there’s anything of mine she inherited or if it’s all you and todoroki genetics.”

“well, her pretty smile certainly didn’t come from me, babydoll.” dabi muses with a light chuckle, arms trapping you against his chest once more as you continue to make you both some much needed caffeine. the coffee machine whirrs as you sway together in the early morning sunshine, warmth from the sun brushing against your skin and touya’s hair tickling your neck before he presses kisses over your fading love bites while kori’s annoying shows play in the background. everything feels complete and at peace. you feel like a real family. “i could get used to this, this life with you.”

you spin in dabi’s arms, cupping his cheeks and taking in his face for the millionth time in the last twelve hours. “then stay, or at least visit some more now that you’re back. you may not feel it, but kori and i need you. everything has always been better when you’ve been around touya… and i mean that. stay.” you stare at him with pleading eyes, standing on your tiptoes to stare him down and communicate just how much you needed him here with you both.

and for once in his life, touya todoroki feels the most loved he’s ever really felt. here in this shitty two bedroom apartment with his angelic little girl and his beautiful girlfriend during the winter season— touya knows this is right where he needs to be. “i’ll stay, for as long as you’ll fuckin’ have me.”

“forever, then?” you ask, eyes lowering to your boyfriend’s lips.

“forever it is, babydoll.” the villain nods, following your gaze before leaning down to capture your lips with a promise written into your sweet kiss.

extended ending

you thought that the best kind of weather was when the sun peeked out from behind the clouds but the air around you was still as cold as a december’s day. the breeze is enough to make your nose run just a little, but occasionally the warmth of the sun’s rays radiates across your skin like a warm blanket, balancing it out.

it was the kind of weather where people didn’t know how to dress, some wore mismatched shorts and jerseys whilst others were decked out in scarves up to their cheeks and sandals where their toes flopped out. it was the kind of weather that reminded you of dabi and kori, they were your warmth and your cold, they balanced each other out and made your family whole.

kori sits on your right hip as you push the car door closed and wave goodbye to an accomplice of your boyfriend’s— your driver for the evening. your little girl’s curls are combed back into two even pigtails, dark blue bows in each one while the red lock of her hair ( now, much longer ) curls against her forehead stubbornly. she looks so pretty, all fancied up a dress that dabi had chosen for her on this particular occasion, the lace irritated her only slightly but the decapitated endeavour plushie her father had gifted her served nicely as a distraction.

you bounce her once, cooing down at your baby before you look to the hospital in front of you— a look of determination in your eye. ever since the night touya had visited you and swore to stay, he’d kept his word to the best of his abilities. being a villain was still a major factor in your relationship, he came when he could stayed if his job permitted it— taking care of your daughter when your shifts were long and even going as far as to learn his and kori’s favourite recipes to cook on the nights where you couldn’t or you didn’t fancy take out.

in the last few weeks his visits had become slightly more scarce with shigaraki becoming more and more demanding, but touya’s plan to leave the league was slowly coming to fruition along with endeavour and the hero society which had both carved a life of struggle for the three of you.

your boyfriend being busy had given you more time to reconnect with the friends you had lost over the last year, meeting up with those from college, mina and tsuyu ( who’d simply thought you’d gone off the radar ) for kori’s first birthday. they absolutely loved her and your sweet girl loved all the attention she was getting. you even had the chance to reunite with your parents, who were more remorseful that you felt you couldn’t come to them for help than the fact that you’d gotten pregnant during college.

of course, they all asked who the father was and you simply told them that he had died ( which was half true ), using the excuse that you were embarrassed to be widowed and with a child at your young age.

shaking your head, you enter the hospital and recite the words that touya had made you practice the night before. you were here by endeavours orders and needed to see mrs.todoroki. your lover had used some sort of hack to put you on the list of visitors for his mother but one look at kori was all the guards and staff needed to let you through. a few nights prior to today, dabi had asked you to do one thing for him before it all went down, kissing your knuckles over some sushi take out.

so despite your nerves, you would go through with this for him, especially if it meant your family could be together. some guards escort yourself and kori to rei todoroki’s room, leaving you with a curt nod and slightly more polite wave to your daughter. the room itself is slightly bleak, a chair and some blue cushioned sofas positioned in an L-shape parallel to the blanketed bed. there’s a tv in the top left corner which and a set of draws underneath where a clear vase sits— containing blooming blue flowers.

rei looks up when you enter, grey eyes flashing with confusion despite the blank look on her face as kori babbles happily in your arms. “who are you?” she whispers, hands retreating from her flowers and folding neatly in her lap.

“oh! i’m yn, your son’s fiancé and this,” you beam kindly, further entering the room and being sure to lock the doors behind you. you nod your head down to your daughter who waves around her endeavour plushy— paying no mind to the situation unfolding. “this is our daughter, your granddaughter...kori todoroki! she’s just turned one and daddy thought it was about time she met you, isn’t that right pretty girl?”

“dada!!!”

rei blinks and you smile again. “she’s a daddy’s girl,” you explain and lift your hand to snow the small sapphire engagement ring on your ring finger. touya had proposed last night as well, certain your plan would work out. “and quite frankly, so am i! how can i not be when your son treats me so well.”

nodding slowly, the wife of endeavour looks down at her hands which you note, nervously fiddle with a stray petal. “so, natsu and you—?” you can see her trying to work it out, curiosity written across her features. you could see why the woman might think kori was natuso’s child— they looked a lot like each other just by first glance but rei was missing an important feature. the colour of kori’s eyes.

“oh no, your other son. the eldest one.” you correct her with a sinister shake of your head. swiftly crossing the room to set your daughter down in rei’s lap. you watch with an evil air of satisfaction as rei todoroki freezes with fear, as the mistakes her family paid out to touya suddenly come to the forefront of her mind. she wobbles with kori still in her grip and you shoot her a dark glare— reaching over to fix her flowers in their vase. “touya picked these out, always said that you loved them. such a pretty shade of blue, no wonder why they’re your favourites, right?”

“please leave.” she looks up at you pleadingly, shaking like a leaf in the breeze outside. oh how you wish your fiancé was here to see this but he had more important things to do.

rolling your eyes, you grab the remote to switch on the tv— pinching kori’s nose affectionately to make her laugh again. “come sit with me rei, let’s watch some tv to help you calm down.”

the woman nods weakly, barely moving an inch as you take a seat beside her with a smile. you skip channels a few times, pride swelling up in your chest when you finally land on the right one, touya’s broadcast flashing across the screen. he sits leisurely in a chair, shirtless with all of his beautiful scars on display— a painful reminder of his childhood and what he’d become. “i, touya todoroki, was born as the eldest son of endeavour. today i’ve killed over 30 innocent people until now, some to protect my family. my daughter, who i have not been able to see due to my father. i would like to let everyone know why i’d end up committing such a hideous act.” he speaks such calmness and clarity, and you can’t help but feel emotional at how he stands in front of the world.

kori grins, leaping up at the sight of her father on the screen and claps her hands. “dada!! dada!! lookie s’daddy!!” she squeals while rei struggles to breathe, panic set in her eyes.

you put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, offering her a sweet grin in an attempt to calm her before the oncoming storm. “keep watching, mrs.todoroki, touya said we’d be one big, happy family after this.” the words are sugar coated and sickly sweet, carrying the dark meaning across to your fiancé’s mother.

looking away, your heart swells while touya tears down the hero society and spills the truth for all of japan to see. you were grateful to the man he’d become— loyal to you, to your daughter and the dreams that you had. the satisfaction of seeing the real villains of the world fall was much greater than any hush money enji todoroki could ever offer.

fin.

— TAGLIST:

@husband-to-tomura-shigaraki @grace-todoroki @toshiuwu @whet-ones-write

2K notes · View notes

queenshelby · 3 years ago

Text

My Friend’s Father (Part Five)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Mild Sexual References

Words: 1,848

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

*************************

YOUR POV

Two weeks had passed since you visited your friend Denise in Dublin and it was time for the annual Galway Arts Festival.

Denise had been working on a photography project for the past year and had been nominated for a student award in Galway as part of which ten of her photographs were being displayed during the Arts Festival.

Whilst, as you had expected, Cillian didn’t contact you, you knew that he would be there to support his daughter. Being an artist himself, he was very proud of her and her work and he supported her projects not only mentally but also financially with the caveat that she would finish her degree at Trinity College.

Unlike him, he didn’t want her to drop out of university even though she hated it and you certainly understood his reasoning.

Contrary to Denise, you had no creative bone in your body. You enjoyed art and theatre, but weren’t an artist or performer yourself. Instead, you were an A Grade Law Student who had become rather bored in Galway and had recently applied for a scholarship to Oxford University.

Reading was your passion and you had always been known as a geek. In school, you were the girl that no one liked, nerdy, not interested in fashion or social media and wearing braces, which, luckily, had been removed three years ago.

You were shy and it was only for Denise that you came out of your shell. She was popular in school, mostly due to her name, but also because she was generally confident and, over the years, she helped you gain confidence especially after you had left high school.

But, today, you knew you would be questioning your gained confidence once again since, first of all, you would be seeing Cillian again and the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about him in an intimate way and, secondly, you were featured completely naked on some of Denise’s photographs.

Whilst the photographs were artistic and not sexual in any way and your most intimate part wasn’t visible on them, it bothered you knowing that people you disliked would see you so vulnerable and you couldn’t remember why you had agreed to being photographed like that.

The other woman who Denise chose to photograph was Amalie. She was 23 and had been Denise’s friend for a while as well but, unlike you, she began modelling professionally when she was just 16. You all went to the same private school together and, clearly, her lifestyle had been largely financed by her parents. She always wore expensive clothes and had no interest in pursuing a career other than modelling, which barely sustained her lifestyle considering the few small jobs she got.

***

Just as you served your last cup of coffee to an elderly lady sitting in the corner of the café you were working at, you saw Denise, Amalie and two other friends of Denise walk in.

‘Hey guys, take a seat. I will be right with you. I am just about to finish my shift’ you said as you hung up your apron.

‘Please tell me you will get changed before the Gallery opening tonight?’ Amalie asked somewhat weirdly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you sat down at the table with her, Denise and the others before ordering some coffees for yourselves.

‘No, I thought I would go like this’ you said sarcastically, looking down at your coffee-stained clothes.

‘I bought a dress for tonight’ you then said, after Amalie didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm.

‘Right’ she then said as she flicked through Instagram and you simply looked at Denise who shrug her shoulders.

‘What are you looking for?’ you asked curiously as her eyes seemed to be glued to her phone.

‘She is looking to find more photos of my dad and Laura Jennings’ Denise said, rolling her eyes.

‘Laura Jennings, as in the actress?’ you asked, causing Amalie to nod.

‘Yes, apparently they have been dating’ Amalie then confirmed, causing you to swallow harshly. You knew that you shouldn’t care but you couldn’t help it. Knowing that Cillian was seeing someone made you feel ill.

‘And you care about that why?’ you then asked Amalie after an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine.

‘Apparently, just like you, Amalie thinks my dad is a DILF’ Denise huffed out before telling you how disgusting you all were.

‘Well, he is though…he is super hot’ Amalie then joked before carrying on. ‘And I don’t understand how you don’t know about Laura Jennings and whether this is true or not. You need to find out’ Amalie then said but Denise simply shook her head.

‘My father doesn’t share this sort of stuff with me and I certainly don’t want to know about his sex life, thank you very much. In so far as I am concerned, he doesn’t have sex, ever…yuck! Also, I would appreciate if you could not talk about my dad anymore, please. It grosses me out’ Denise said and you knew that, all of this had become a common occurrence ever since the day the first episode of Peaky Blinders aired on BBC, a show which Denise refuses to watch herself because of the heavy sexual content and a show which you, only a week ago, had begun to binge watch.

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian walked into the basement after you had left, he immediately saw the small folded up note you had left him but, reading it, made him somewhat uncomfortable.

He was torn about what to do with it and certainly knew that he should ignore it. He couldn’t see you again even if he wanted to.

The fact that you were 23 years younger than him and that you were his daughter’s best friend made it all wrong and highly inappropriate and he didn’t know what had gotten into him in the first place when he gave into you.

He had never felt attracted towards you in any sort of way until that last visit which was the first time had seen you since you and your family had moved away.

You changed in many ways and he wasn’t sure what it was that he liked about you. But what he knew was that it was more than just sexual attraction, which was usually something he knew how to supress.

With that in mind, he placed your note into his wallet and decided to ignore it for now. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.

***

With his bags packed it was time for him to return to Manchester and resume filming of the final season of Peaky Blinders.

The first week of filming went well and Cillian decided to spend the weekend with his friend, fellow actress Laura Jennings. Cillian and her had developed a friend with benefits sort of relationship. No strings attached and no feelings involved. After his divorce from Denise’s mother, he wasn’t ready for anything else and Laura would certainly not have been the type of woman he would have wanted a relationship with in the first place.

Unlike him, she wasn’t press shy and, whilst they kept their arrangement a secret as best as they could, she was otherwise quite active on social media.

Cillian, on the other hand, only maintained a private Instagram account with the sole purpose of being able to check on his children. Whilst they were adults, he was still worried about them, especially Denise who had recently gotten herself in a lot of trouble after distancing herself from this Jeremy boy.

***

‘Another wine?’ Laura asked as Cillian was relaxing on top of the doonas, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs, after they had spent the last hour doing exactly what friends with benefits would do after not having seen each other for over two weeks due to busy filming schedules.

‘Yes please…thanks’ he responded as he reached for his phone after a notification had popped up.

It was his daughter Denise who had posted on Instagram and, since she hadn’t posted for a while, he decided to check it out, hoping that she wasn’t with Jeremy again.

To his surprise, three new pictures of Denise and her friends showed up when he opened the APP and, one of them, there was you.

In the picture, you were wearing accompanied by a man in his late twenties, wearing a suit while you were wearing a dark blue dress and he couldn’t help but wonder who the man by your side was.

You looked simply stunning, with your hair long and open and your shoulders exposed. You were wearing only a little bit of make up and showed your beautiful smile.

‘There you go Mr Murphy’ Laura then said as she returned to the bedroom with another glass of wine, pulling Cillian’s phone out of his hand and climbing on top of him.

‘Round Two?’ she then asked eagerly as she reached for another condom, but Cillian’s thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

‘Maybe tomorrow, I am tired. It has been a long week, sorry’ he explained, causing Laura to pout with disappointment.

But the second round never eventuated as Cillian left Laura’s house the following morning to drive back to Manchester to resume filming.

On his way back to Manchester, he called his daughter Denise to check on her and while he did, he enquired about your companion on the Instagram posts.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Denise asked somewhat confused but Cillian played it cool.

‘He looks familiar, that’s all. Didn’t he go to your school?’ he then asked, playing dumb.

‘Oh god no, he is 29. His name is Connor and he is an accountant. Y/N wouldn’t date anyone our age. You know she isn’t a normal 21-year-old’ Denise joked, referring to your nerdiness and intellect.

‘Apparently not’ Cillian chuckled before asking another question about the stranger on the picture. ‘So, they are dating?’ he asked.

‘I think they went on two or three dates or something. Why do you care?’ Denise asked.

‘No reason. I was just wondering’ Cillian confirmed before changing the topic.

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15 @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r @tellingyouastory @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @littlewhiterose @ttzamara @ttzamara @cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

#cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you

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fairestwriting · 4 years ago

Note

Since I'm a sucker for angst, may I request hcs for Riddle, Malleus, Azul, and Vil who are trying to help the reader ask their vice dorm leader out on a date (since the reader has a crush on the vice dorm leader), but while they're trying to set them up together they accidentally fall in love with the reader? sorry if this request is a bit confusing, I'm not too good with words

first angst request.... i owe you my life anon i love writing pain. i totally went crazy on this i hope you like it

+ ko-fi link, if anyone feels like financially supporting my writing

Riddle Rosehearts

The three of you are friends, and had been for a while. You met Trey first and he introduced you to Riddle, all way before NRC. Even as you entered this latter part of your school years, your relationship never really changed, you were still eating baked goods together and chatting afternoons away, everytime Riddle could sneak out of his home.

He’s rather reserved when it comes to showing platonic affection, but you could tell that Riddle appreciated having you around as much as he did with Trey, you saw it on how happy he was to know the three of you became NRC students. Even as he turned into Heartslabyul’s tyrannical ruler, he was still a good friend to you both.

So you’re not afraid to come up to him and ask for help on asking Trey out, after mulling over your feelings for months.

Riddle is, before anything, embarrassed to do something like this. He mutters about how it isn’t his responsibility, that this was a private matter between you two, but he’s always had a soft spot for you, he couldn’t say no.

You two end up in his room trying to think of how to go about this. You’ve known Riddle never confessed to anyone, really, so you didn’t expect him to give you much of a hand on that topic, just on how you should approach Trey specifically, since they’ve known each other for longer.

Riddle averts his eyes as he tells you some earlier childhood stories about Trey. You watch him with attentive, curious eyes as you find out about how he’s always been this caring, with this older sibling-like personality, and you can’t help but smile. Riddle’s speaking falters at that, but he goes on.

You decide on writing Trey a letter, so you could express your feelings in a more cohesive way. Riddle helps you make sure the text is written correctly and flows well, it’s a couple hours of hard work before you have everything on paper. The nervousness you were showing seems to fade once you write the last word, and you smile in a way that Riddle had never seen before, and didn’t want to look away from.

You chime about being excited to deliver it, even if the thought made you anxious. Riddle assures you that even if Trey didn’t return your feelings, things wouldn’t change, since the three of you were mature enough to not throw a fit over something like this. You thank him for the help and encouragement, giving him a big hug that has him yelping before you’re out of the room.

Then the door closes, and his eyes fill with tears -- It contradicts what he’d said before, but he doesn‘t have it in him to care. Had he loved you for all this time you’ve known each other? He can’t tell, but now that he’s realized it, he can’t do anything about it.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus knew you as Lilia’s friend, plain and simple. You two weren’t close at all, he’d only barely seen you hanging around Diasomnia to talk to the vice dorm leader -- So you can imagine how surprised he was when you came up to him and asked for him to help you ask Lilia out.

It’s hard to get Malleus dumbfounded, and you actually managed to do it just through your conviction when you asked him, somebody people were so terrified of, for help on such a matter. He never thought anything like it would happen. He’s so surprised, he can’t do anything but say yes.

Since then, you two begin spending time together. You’re constantly surprising Malleus with your determination on winning Lilia’s heart -- You’re constantly asking him questions, about fae traditions, about Lilia, about him, too, sometimes. It’s not a friendship, he knows, and yet he just can’t help but feel captivated by your energy. No one had ever approached him like that.

It’s a long time until you can feel secure on how to talk to Lilia about your feelings, and you end up becoming quite close to Malleus. Conversations that were initially just plotting turn into normal chatting, you begin to truly value him as a person, and not just somebody you found admirable but didn’t know, but that was it. You knew who you wanted, and you couldn’t help but let that show -- And as time passes, what once impressed Malleus begins to feel so sour to him. He’s actually happy to have grown close to you, and yet, he feels like he’s constantly haunted by a sense of unsatisfaction...

But everything comes to an end, of course, and when the end of the school year is growing near, you decide it’s time. You’d been working hard to understand Lilia, someone so enigmatic, better, and now you’d tell him you loved him like you always dreamed about. Hopeful, you invite him to meet you at Ramshackle after twilight.

Malleus is naturally the first person you tell about this, right as you give him your most sincere thanks. He hears the news, and it’s like something inside him shatters.

It’s you showing him feelings he’d never felt before again -- But he just smiles through it, saying he’s glad he could assist you, and giving you and Lilia wishes of happiness. And he means them, no matter how much they hurt, because he’s grateful you’re here either way, even if it isn’t how he wants.

Azul Ashengrotto

Getting him to set you up with Jade probably wasn’t cheap, so he is, before anything, surprised at your determination to be with him.

Before coming into his office to make the deal, Azul just knew you as “the twins’ friend”. You two spent time together as well, but he didn’t think you were especially close or anything... still, he’s surprised to learn about your feelings for Jade, and like this too, he doesn’t know why it’s so uncomfortable.

He pushes that aside in favor of his work, of course. Once he has his payment -- Whatever that was -- your feelings for the eel really are even less of his business than before. He tells you to show up at his office again at a given time, so you two could go over what you knew about Jade, and he’d give you some possibilities of how to go about the situation, so you could pick one and sign the contract later. You agree to his terms almost without a second thought.

A couple plotting sessions happen. Azul had done something like this before, so he expected it to be easy -- He introduces you to a couple magical methods that could just get Jade in love with you instantly, but you refuse these. In the end, it’s just Azul asking you questions about you and Jade so he could plan a perfect date.

The contract has low stakes like these, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s a strange couple of meetings, he’s just taking notes as you talk, and while you do, eyes sparkling everytime you mentioned Jade, Azul gets all that discomfort from the beginning but worse. It hurts now. But spending time with you, and learning things about you, even if it was for business, felt strangely healing.

He doesn’t get it. Is he jealous that Jade has someone who loves him? He should be happy, they’re friends, and he’s cutting a deal with someone. Is he that starved for affection? The thoughts just keep swirling in his head.

The last session is when you two have finished putting together the date plan, considering every little detail so everything would go perfectly. A big, confident smile appears in your face as you thank him.

Azul blinks. So it was over -- That ache returns now. He glances at the contract you’ve signed, then you, acting in a way that makes you look like you’re ready to take on the whole world.

You’re out of the door in a minute. Azul never put a name to any of his feelings, but he feels... so empty. The contract is torn up later, he’s lost interest in whatever you were to give him. He can’t really meet Jade’s eyes for a while.

Vil Schoenheit

Knowing Vil as the most beautiful person in school, you spend some time building up courage and then ask him about how you should become a beauty worthy of Rook’s attention.

The question surprises him. Isn’t Rook the one that finds beauty in everything? You’re already worthy of his attention. No matter who you are, the hunter could find something about you that he finds oh so captivating, and sing praises to that trait for hours. That’s just the sort of person Rook is, no?

You explain to him that he’s misunderstood you request, and that it wasn’t about beauty exactly, rather... you’d fallen in love with Rook, and you wanted to get his attention, but in a way no one else had gotten his attention -- You wanted to ask him out, basically, but you didn’t feel like you could just yet, so you asked Vil for his help.

It isn’t a request he’d gotten before, so Vil is on the fence about it for a moment. Does he have time for something like this? He barely knows you, too, and it was just... an odd request, in general. Not the sort of thing you’d ask of anyone.

He doesn’t know why he felt compelled to accept, really, but he does, but he quickly explains to you that you shouldn’t try to change yourself in any way to be with Rook, that was just a recipe for disaster. You’re eager to listen to his advice in a way that no one else had ever been, and on the inside, he’s pretty happy at that. Everyone else seems so unwilling to just make an effort.

Vil ends up becoming determined on getting you two together, since you were too. He tells you he’ll teach you how to really bring out your own personal beauty, and you two can plan how your confession is going to work, too. Being in Vil’s care, you feel confident that you might actually be able to get what you want, after all. You promise to do your best.

You end up coming to Pomefiore’s dorm quite often. Before anything else, Vil helps you care for your own appearence better, regarding things like clothes, skincare, and makeup. Not just so you could look better, but so you could feel better too -- And since this obviously isn’t just about outer beauty, he’ll have a word with you on things like how you interact with other people, what sort of talents and skills you have, so he can advise you on how to keep improving these as most as possible.

It isn’t much of a matchmaking scheme or anything, because Vil doesn’t believe in that, and something so standard wouldn’t apply to somebody like Rook. He’s actually just helping you with your confidence, and he sees the effects of your combined efforts everyday, in how your nervousness turns into excitement as you talk about the confession.

And he’s proud of you, don’t get him wrong, but sometimes, when he’s alone, he thinks about how you being around him so often is temporary, and it just hurts. He hates to acknowledge it, but he’s grown attached to you, captivated by your energy and willingness to learn.

One day, it’s just over. You’ve become a much more confident person, confident enough you can just decide to walk up to Rook and tell him your true feelings -- And that’s it. You tell Vil about how you’d do it today, ambushing the hunter after class, giving him countless thanks.

Again, he’s proud. But it’s bitter. He wishes you good luck as you slip away, just like he’s thought you would. Forced to acknowledge that he hated to see this happen, he just tells himself that it’s just how things were, even as the jealousy corrodes him inside.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #malleus draconia #azul ashengrotto #vil schoenheit #riddle rosehearts x reader #malleus draconia x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #lis writing

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shelbyswift · 4 years ago

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everyday i wake up brazilian so... i really REALLY need your help!!!!!!!!! (please reblog if you can 🥺)

Hi there!

My name is Sylvia and I'm a Brazilian psychology student who has just gotten an unconditional offer to study at Royal Holloway University of London, starting September 2021. It has always been one of my biggest dreams to go to university abroad, but I never thought I would actually be given an opportunity like this someday, considering my coming from a very humble background. I am the first in my family to ever be enrolled in higher education, and I owe that to my father's determination and resilience. He grew up in conditions of extreme poverty in northeastern Brazil, taught himself the entirety of our national tax system by spending hours and hours on end reading in libraries, and worked his way up to a tax & accounting management position at Thomson Reuters (which he has now held for over 15 years), all the while raising 6 children. Although my family has been extremely blessed to now live in a much more comfortable financial situation than the one I was born in, the political and economic air has shifted, and the reality of our country is no longer a prosperous, hopeful one — especially for anyone looking to work in science. Amidst constant attacks from the current government against universities, human rights, the scientific community, the truth and democracy, I can't help but fear the prospect of my academic future, or of my future in general, as well as my family's. My father is now 68 years old and the only provider to my household, I'm afraid he won't be able to play that part for much longer. So, at 21, it is my responsibility to step in and make sure my little sister gets the education he enabled me to get, supporting them, my mother and myself financially. It is highly unlikely that I'll manage to do that successfully as a scientist in Brazil.

I don't mean to dwell but, If I'm gonna ask you for help, I feel like I owe you a full explanation as to why I need it. I am a late-diagnosed autistic woman, which might sound weird if you have a preconceived misconception of autism engraved in your mind, but the under-recognition of autism spectrum conditions in girls and women is actually a gravely common and dangerous issue that prevents us from having access to support at an early age, thus arising serious consequences for our health and wellbeing. I am not sharing this information in order to "play the victim" or get you to donate from a place of pity, but to explain why I long to work in science so much, and need to be somewhere that will grant me better opportunities. My biggest dream and professional goal is to help girls like me have a happier, healthier, more fruitful experience of the world than the one I was met with for so long, preventing unnecessary suffering through accessible neuropsychological work, while raising awareness to the dangers of misdiagnosis fueled by bigotry in scientific research. The Brazilian government's been pushing deep cuts of billions of reais (brazilian currency) in science funding over the last few years, causing students to lose their scholarships, be forced to use obsolete equipment or stop the research they have been conducting altogether. This scenario makes it extremely hard, if not impossible, to turn dreams such as mine into reality.

That being said, the anual tuition fee for Psychology BSc overseas students at Royal Holloway is of £21,400 — approximately R$161.427,00 in brazilian currency (reais), which is more than my family's yearly income. At the end of the 3 year course, that amount will have added up to £64,200 — almost half a million reais. If I get a scholarship (the best one available for overseas students is the Reed Inovation one, which awards the winner £5,000 a year), I would still be expected to pay R$371.131,68 (£49,200). Unfortunately, there is no way me and my family will be able to afford all this, and that is why I have started this fundraiser. I don't expect to reach the full goal in donations until September, but I would never forgive myself if I didn't try, as even half of the amount would already make a huge difference and perhaps allow me to actually go.

Thank you SO much if you took the time to read this up to here, I will be forever grateful for any help I can get, even if you just share this!

Here’s my Paypal link.

Hope you have a nice day 💚✨

Proof:

#taylor please come back and help me I BEG YOU #i’m so sorry for tagging you guys in a text post but i’m desperate and i need people to see this and idk what else to do #userchaitali #userfilm #userjochi #userjessie #userpurpleswift #userelena #usertswift #userkbell #userjudith #userojo #usertara #userclem #userpiecesintoplaces #usernaomi #usersar

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iammyownvariant · 3 years ago

Text

Reader (Ghosts BBC, Mentioning of Alison/Mike and Alison/Thomas)

SUMMARY: You grew up in a wonderful big house full of ghosts. But why did you see them anyway? Reader Insert Series: BBC Ghosts AN: As I haven't the time to fully write out this idea, here's a shortened version of a prompt that has been playing inside my mind. Based on a post I viewed recently: I have always thought that if I'd been Alison, I'd be scared to death about getting pregnant or having a miscarriage and seeing that ghost child all the time. Now I could write something angsty about this, or something funny. I decided to go for a different route and wrote how it would be to be born in that household, with Alison and Mike as your mum and dad. (So no miscarriages or creepy things, just growing up with ghosts). Enjoy! PS. If anyone feels like picking up this idea or exploring elements of it, please do <3 -- -- Seeing ghosts was a normality to you. As you grew up, you saw them around the house and they were your friends. You saw them in school, saw them in the streets and basically everywhere you went. And you more than often became friends with them.

So this was how mum felt, hmm?

You could not say that you led a normal life. Seeing the ghosts and interacting with them wasn’t the oddest thing of all. No. The oddest thing you found, was something only revealed to you at a much later date, when you were already grown. But let’s cut back to when you were little.

You grew up in a wonderfully big home that your mum and dad had inherited by pure luck (or was it misfortune?). The house cost them everything and more than often people had wondered why they had started having kids during such a stressful period in their lives – because the home was still a bit of a wreck when you were born.

The house was large and wonderful and yours. You had never known any other place and you felt no need to ever move elsewhere. You loved it here. It was a certain love that made your mum and dad all the more determined to keep the place no matter what.

Apart from living in a fantasy-like building, your life was pretty normal.

Except for the ghosts.

The first time your parents noticed you saw them was when you were just a toddler and your father freaked out because you seemed to be talking to someone who wasn’t there. Your mum, being able to see them after a nearly-fatal accident, confirmed his fears though. You were playing with one of the ghosts that inhabited the house. Your parents thought it was a one off, until your sister was born four years later and she exhibited the same signs as you had.

Thus, the theory that seeing ghost was inheritable came into existence.

But as you had been seeing them since you were born, you held no fear of the inhabitants of the house. And there were a lot of them. It meant you were never alone. It was soothing in a way. Whenever there was something wrong or you felt sad or down, one of the ghosts was bound to cheer you up.

You especially loved Humphrey as a child. You loved his soothing voice and the tales he would tell when you couldn’t sleep. Truth to be told, you had a bit of a crush on the late Sir Humphrey Bone as a kid, thinking his face to be really pretty. So pretty, you often helped when his head and body were apart. You would go searching for another of the ghosts to pick up his head and put him back together whenever he lost it again. Though sometimes it would just be his head on your nightstand. Others might think this depravingly morbid, but it brought you a sense of safety, knowing he was there watching you. It chased away any bad dreams.

You often held sleepovers with Kitty. She was a lovely giggling young woman, and she loved to play hide and seek with you and your sister in the grand garden surrounding your home. The three of you would often giggle way into the night when either your mum would come to tell you to please go to sleep – or Robin joined in and did some of his caveman word games with the three of you – which made the evening all the better (no matter how often Kitty would exclaim that it was supposed to be a girls night only).

Having the ghosts around wasn’t always fun though. For instance, when you were a teenager and were playing dressing up and imagining all the boys who would swoon over you, only to see a head stick through your wall and telling you off. Auntie Fanny was a real pain sometimes, always talking about how you should be decent, how you should dress, how to hold your fork and knife during a dinner with guests. It was frustrating but she always managed to get on your nerves.

Your sister didn’t fare much better with her and suffered the same mouthiness of the former lady of the house. It didn’t help that the ghost woman still jumped out of a window in the midst of the night either. Your sister failed one of her exams once because she couldn’t focus on learning the material because Fanny Button kept her up each night with her screams. It was thanks to Thomas’ support that she was forced to focus on her schoolbooks and thanks to the other ghosts (and mum, who was pretty much threatening them to do as she said) to keep Auntie Fanny in check. In the end, your sister had changed back to a different room. The previous one she had occupied had been chosen by her because of the epic royal bathroom attached to it. Now she slept closer to yours again and took to using the shared bathroom without complaining. You didn’t mind, you liked having her close again.

Out of all the ghosts, you found the Captain to be the most tiresome as you were young. He was always drilling on about what you and the others should do. Always focusing on schedules that you should follow. Telling you off like you were a soldier.

Pat was way kinder, and often a bit too soft. You knew he often hung around your younger sister, because she was more outgoing than you were and he loved to be outside in nature. He helped her do all sorts of tricks, climb trees, shoot a bow and arrow – dangerous stuff even. But he taught her to do it responsibly, despite what you may expect of a man with an arrow lodged in his throat.

And then there was the one who frightened you like no other. Not even the plague citizens living in the cellar, who always kindly helped you with whatever issue you came to talk about. Yep, one of the ghosts scared you for a while: you usually tried to avoid Julian. As you were young, you thought he was an old man, wearing no pants, and he had a mean streak to him – jealousy you often found. He didn’t particularly seemed to like kids either, so you were fine with him going out of your way. As you grew older you realised Julian wasn’t actually as bad as you thought him to be. He even saved your life once or twice by pushing away or picking up a dangerous object that might have injured you otherwise. He was watching over you, like all the others were. And as you grew into a teenager and passed that sweet 16, you noticed a different gleam in his eyes. Julian changed. He became more gallant, more of a smooth talker when around you. But that behaviour ended quite abruptly, although the gleam of admiration never left his eyes. You wondered what had frightened him so to stop his advances on you. Whatever it was, you were grateful. Julian was not your type and never would be. (Later on you found out he had been challenged to a duel by Thomas who wanted to defend your honour, as child of the lovely Alison).

And then there was Jemima, she was the best friend of you and of your sister. As children she was just amazing to play with. First, she was older, and knew cool games you and your sibling had never heard of. Then, you grew to be the same age and she was the coolest girl you would ever know. And then, you grew older and she grew quieter. But you never ceased your habit of singing chilly songs with her.

You were a child, growing up between ghosts, and you felt safe between them. And though your father swore he could see them, most of his interactions with the house ghosts was initiated through you or your sister. He just didn’t possess the gift. But he was the greatest dad there ever lived. He loved doing stuff with you and your sister, going out, do fun things. He was a swell dad, filled to the brim with love for you and your sibling. He’d do anything to keep the two of you safe and happy and clothed and fed – even if things financially didn’t always go well for your family. You loved him to bits.

Your mum tried to warn you of the dangers of seeing ghosts. How those who could not see them would think it weird – would think you to be weird. You minded her words and sensibly, didn’t let anything show while in school. Even though, you were troubled with the ghost of a former teacher who kept sitting at a way too small child’s desk next to you and pester you throughout the lessons. You were glad when your mum told him off, some day after lessons. She had to sneak into the school with you. Oh boy, you had loved her firm voice, her confidence, and the fact that the ghost stuck to a different classroom from then on without coming near you again.

Your sister had a bit of a harder time. She let herself be distracted by the ghosts of a few children who had died in a school fire ages ago. While you had gotten away with explaining to them how you could not talk to them while others were around, your sister didn’t mind that rule though, and your parents struggled more than once with comments on how they should take your sister to see a doctor about this. Eventually, your sister learned, as she grew older. But more than often she would ignore what others thought of her and still communicate with the dead whilst other living beings were around.

But despite the fortune, or misfortune, of seeing ghosts, your life was pretty normal as you grew up. You loved all house ghosts for different reasons.

While Mary was easily one of your favourites, she was also a bit daft to the modern ways. Simple, might be a better word. She often promised to help you with your homework, but she never could attribute anything that you didn’t already know. So you often had to distract her with small tasks or tell her to hang out with Kitty or Robin instead.

And when Mary was gone it would be Thomas who would take over. Although he was easily distracted by art and snivelly poems, he would always try his best to focus and help you and your sister through each demeaning homework task. Sir Thomas Thorne was always nearby when you needed him. He had the tendency to sing songs to you as a baby, create old fashioned nursery rhymes when you were a toddler, play silly games with you as a child, motivate and guide you as a teenager.

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. With all the care he held for you, with the warm tingling feeling it gave you whenever he was around. You should have known. And when you were a teenager and dated that ghost boy from two blocks away, it was Thomas who completely lost it and told you the boy would be no good for you, and that you deserved someone better. Someone more permanent. Someone alive.

Your mother and Thomas had a huge fight then – ("Someone more permanent than a ghost? That's rich coming from you!" your mum had shouted) all ghosts were listening in. But your dad was none the wiser. And so were you. Because you did not catch all references, and you did not understand each jab and insult thrown like a ping pong ball. And when your mum sat with her hands in her hair and Sir Thomas’ arm wrapped around her shoulder, you thought they had just made up. And then your father came in and he gave your mother solace. They hugged for a long time, and Thomas had just gone into the adjacent room. But that was all there was to it.

Of course it wasn’t though. Because your mother was strong. Darn strong. You loved it about her. The whole attitude she had, the air with which she wandered around the home and instructed the ghosts like she owned them. Your father said it hadn’t always been like that, that it had grown over time. In the beginning she had been ill-at ease, easily manipulated by the inhabitants of their home, had been often looked at funnily and ruined many a great business deal for talking or listening to the ghosts. She still did that – listen to them. She still embarrassed herself and your whole family along with it. Like that time you were at a beach party with family and friends and she had an entire conversation with a family of the 1960’s who were dead. Yeah, you’d rather not think back on that.

Or the one time one of she reported a crime to a dead officer.

Yeah.

But your mother was your hero. She was strong, fierce, and always stood up for you and your sister.

To find out a much deeper and darker truth then, about your family, was world shattering. And it was all because your sister had been in an accident and you came home to find Thomas in all states. And when you asked the other ghosts what had occurred they told you he was crying about his child. And that’s only when the pin dropped and you realised why this man was always working in your best interest and being so darn warm and kind for a person who was dead. Because you'd not missed the many times he showered your mother with affection. Or the way she would smile at him when he gave her another compliment. Or the way they would be just a little...too close. Could your sister be the child of a ghost? Impossible, right?

And you confronted your mum about it.

And she broke down.

Alison Cooper confessed to you, while your father was away at work, that she had been entangled with the ghost of Sir Thomas Thorne after a few heavy drinks and a way too fun party held at their home. Apparently, she had been incredibly drunk and had said things she otherwise wouldn’t have admitted. What happened should not have been possible by far. But Thomas had been able to actually feel her, and Alison had believed that no ghost could actually cause consequences with a human who was still alive. Perhaps her near-death experience had thrown something into the mix. We would never know. But Alison found herself pregnant after days spent without a touch by your dad, Mike. The first thought had been to terminate the pregnancy, but remembering the dove that still liked to terrorize their bedroom, Alison had grown scared. She realised she could not terminate the pregnancy or she might be faced with a ghost of her own baby. And you realised this was not your sister she was talking about. This was you.

So instead, Alison had pleaded Thomas to keep their secret (which he had done poorly and every ghost knew what had truly occurred, but luckily your dad could not interact with them), and your mum seduced your dad. They were already married, there were no contenders, your father believed you were theirs and never held a doubt. In hindsight, it explained your paleness- and the seeing of ghosts. It had been deemed the impossible, and for a long while, Alison thought and hoped that you were a child of Mike’s after all.

Mike took it all up really well, with you being what is called an accident. He was instantly smitten – as were all of the ghosts to be honest. Alison thought things would work our after all.

But then, when Mike wanted to have another kid, and though they tried, it took three years and a lot of desperation to admit to seeing a doctor. And then they were faced with the terrible truth that Mike wasn’t fertile at all. The news was delivered to your mum first, with Mike away and only the house ghosts listening in. It was a shock to all of them, mostly to Alison who had been pointed at the result by another ghost doctor. She managed to hide away the evidence, the true results, and together with newly found ghost friends she made at the hospital, fabricated a new lie. Mike was never to know that you could not possibly be his.

So instead, Alison was persuaded by Thomas and her undying love for Mike. He wanted another baby, she wanted them to be happy. Deal done. Thomas fathered a second ghost-seeing child with your mum. Your sister. The one who was recovering in hospital after a nasty car crash. (And luckily, she got out alive and safe and you got to hug her again tightly because no matter what, your sister would always be closest to you - all ghosts in spite).

So there you were, hearing your mother’s confession. The understanding dawning upon you that you did not see ghosts because of just your mum – but because you father was one. It all made so much sense. And it took a lot of strength to keep your mouth shut about it to Mike, your father.

Your real father, Thomas, you found, was understanding. And you were glad more than once that he could not interact with Mike. You had warned him that you would keep calling Mike dad, even if he wasn’t biologically. And Mike remained none the wiser. You still loved your non-biological dad as fiercely as you had before. You’d just glare a lot more in Thomas’ direction for a while.

In the end, you ended up marrying a young ‘living’ partner. You made sure that both Mike and Thomas were leading you down the aisle – even if Mike was never to know it. All Ghosts loved it, loved how you recognised Thomas to be your father. They also loved it how you never once dropped the truth on Mike or let him down. In your eyes, he would always remain on a pedestal as the perfect dad. It just so happened that you had two now.

As you somehow had expected, Alison died too young. An accident out of love, one of the ghosts had said. (She was furious at Thomas for many years to come, but she could not help but love him still.) During the years she was angry at Thomas, she tried to convey a message to Mike. She wanted him to know the truth, but he hadn’t understood her dying last breath, and he hadn’t understood her hauntings. ("It say's Thomas... dad? dad? Wait a minute, isn't Thomas one of the ghosts? Yeah, of course he is dead. Duh!") And he seemed delighted that she was still there, even as he started dating a new woman and ended up marrying her. (Alison was okay withit, but only after smashing a few vases and making that new woman's life a living hell). It was no wonder your dad wanted to move elsewhere quite soon after his second marriage. I mean, living with your deceased wife and your new crumpit was a bit weird, right? Your dad, Mike, handed the house to you and your sister. She chose not to stay and lived her live elsewhere, visiting occassionally, while Mike and his new wife settled somewhere close by. You remained in the huge mansion with your husband and your children, enjoying the way the ghosts watched over them as they had watched over you, feeling safe and happy. Because with these ghosts you were at home.

#bbc ghosts #quick drabble #ghosts bbc prompt #ghosts #ghosts bbc #alison coopr #Alison cooper x thomas thorne #Thomas Thorne #sir thomas thorne #reader insert #mike cooper x alison cooper

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sins-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

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//I made that post because how the Seven’s ages are distributed has really reflected the age I was when I initially created them: 15 years old. I was a literal child. 19 (Ruixiong’s age, as the youngest, at the time I created him) felt like the age of an adult with everything of his life put together: a career, a home, all these amazing adult things and adult wisdoms, etc. But now as a 35 year old, I realize 19 is still, in many ways, still a baby. The difference is that he’d be legally old enough to sign marriage papers and conceive children. But still a baby when it comes to life experiences. I’ve aged him up to 21 for reasons (and thus making him only 1 year younger than the Twins and 2 for Giovanni), which I will get to in a bit.

Folks need to know that your life does not end if you didn’t get married and have a job by the age of 20. You would be, in fact, just starting your adult life altogether. The tragedy present in the Seven, then, lies in how much their life COULD have kept growing, COULD have gotten better, COULD have sought that happily ever after--but it has halted thanks to the Master.

The four Himbos are young meni in early adulthood (21, 22, 23) who cannot mature further even with immortality and the years passing by because the Master is constantly stunting their emotional growth by focusing on traumas they haven’t overcome by the time their ages locked. Their lives have not begun yet and they are forced to remain stupid and reckless. 500 years can pass and Ruixiong will still behave and think like he’s 21 years old. He’ll be smarter (some), more world experienced, develop a better sense of self-awareness and introspection, but still be a dumbfuck who’ll play videogames until 6 AM because he doesn’t have to worry about getting up and going to work at a reasonable hour. Guy and Phoebus will still mourn over not having a proper father to guide them into a time they should be starting their lives despite outliving several hundred generations. And so on and so forth.

Meanwhile, you have Josep and Abena, whom--believe it or not--is still considered early adulthood (just older than 20). At 35 and 38, they SHOULD have been long married, they SHOULD have established careers, they SHOULD have had their livelihoods started and settling--but they DIDN’T. Versus someone in their early 20s when they are expected to START obtaining these things but didn’t get a chance to START AT ALL. So the angsts between these two groups will look different altogether. Abena’s would look especially different as a woman in the 1600s-1700s; at age 38, she’d have suffered two miscarriages and is approaching the time of her life she may never have a pregnancy ever again. An 18 year old girl can never understand or grasp that angst and SHOULDN’T have to worry about that herself unless she had fooled around irresponsibly during high school... and EVEN THEN, a 38 year old woman fearing being barren would look different from an 18 year old. They cannot be compared despite the angst being the same. The stages of life are not the same. The 18 year old can at least get help and support from her parents. The 38 year old is, more often than not, on her own.

Believe it or not, the prime of your life is NOT in college or high school--it’s your middle adulthood. By the time you hit your 40s-50s, your kids would have been old enough to marry and have children of your own--and thus, your bloodline and progeny are secured. You’re expected to be financially secured because you’ve had enough work experience in whatever field you started in your early adulthood to get you settled. You’re either on your way to paying off that home mortgage or it’s been finally paid off. You are at the point in life where the direction to keep on blooming is however the hell you want it to be. Mid-life crises stories happen here because the individual is at a point of life they didn’t want to be but are anyway, so they try to recreate a “new start”. This is where you will start noticing actors getting their accolades for their work instead of being beautiful. This is where CEOs get their faces on magazines. Etc etc. Most creatives are getting to this point where the best of their work are being recognized. All of this is happening BECAUSE the priorities of having kids and families are usually realized by then. Rashid’s tragedy is that he, for all the stability he has been providing for his family, for all the settling he’s done, something went wrong and he can’t grasp by, of all times, it’s happening then. His angsting over Sukhbir and Assad would look SO VERY DIFFERENT if he was 20. And with them out of his life, all he can think of is “....What now? Where do I go from here?” There is nothing. He got his career, he got his home, he got the family... and it vanished in seemingly an instant. He will NOT try to prioritize finding a new wife and getting new kids unless that’s what he wants, but he DOESN’T because he can’t grasp WHY he lost his first ones to begin with. And until he gets it, he is emotionally and mentally stuck at 45 no matter how many centuries pass.

So here is how I connect age-appropriate angst despite how long lived the Seven are. Note I have no one in late adulthood (70s+), and the reason for that is because by that time in that life, the person should be expecting to pass on anytime soon, and thus, should focus on making sure whoever and whatever they are leaving behind outlives them. Dying starts to feel less scary at this time even if the person is happy, healthy, and surrounded by loved ones in a prosperous environment. Acceptance seeps in, and if it doesn’t, than that means something is wrong. Of course, dying still sucks, so they would focus on making sure the last years of their lives remain happy and healthy; thus the emphasis on maintaining good health over finding a new wife or whatever. And frankly, that is all useless to the Master. He’s not interested on people who are a foot from the grave. They still need to be strong and useful--and easier to manipulate and shape.

As for why I only aged up Ruixiong to just 21 and not diversify the Himbos’ ages more? Devil’s Eye is a story that emphasizes forgiveness, letting go, and continuing to grow. In many ways, it’s a coming-of-age story---not in learning to become a MAN or whatever, but in recognizing the start of your life is NOT the end of it. You’ll grow. You’ll keep growing. As long as you still have breath, you will keep on growing. This isn’t to say your life is over by the time you’re 70, however; as I said above, if there is something troubling you greatly by the time you are old enough to keel over at any given time, it still needs to be addressed and overcome, because everyone deserves to have lived their lives to the fullest, free of regret and sin. So I suppose it’s “coming of age” but not just for teens. It’s for the 20 year olds and the 40 year olds, and for folks in the Hero Crews, 50s, 60s, or even 70s. Immortality sucks not just because you outlive everyone, but also because your growth either remains stunted or grows forever without direction and closure. And no one should be shackled to their trauma and regret.

#[OOC]#[About the Seven]

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kiki-shortsnout · 3 years ago

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For intimacy prompts: #27 hugs from behind for Ironstrange! ❤️💙 I’ve been loving all of these fics so far!

Me again! I swear, you're all going to get sick of me writing all these snippet prompts! 🤣🤣

Another warning for Alpha/ Omega and Mpreg!

***

‘There you are.’

‘You say that like you don’t know where I am at every given moment of the day,’ Tony grumbled, not moving from where he was hunched over the desk in the bedroom, tinkering with his latest project. Stephen ignored his irritability, knowing his Omega was uncomfortable and exhausted.

Switching his Kamar-Taj robes for a worn t-shirt and sweatpants, Stephen directed the Cloak out of the room with a head nod, wanting some alone time.

‘Of course I know where you are. I wouldn’t be a very good mate if I didn’t,’ Stephen answered, placing his hands on the back of Tony’s chair and hooking his chin over his shoulder. With gentle hands, he encouraged Tony forward in the wooden chair, stroking his fingers up and down his Omega’s spine, counting each vertebra as he went. Magic pooled in his hands as he swept his hands over a muscled back, trying to ease whatever tension Tony was carrying.

‘I swear, Wong is worse than all of your ninja minions you have shadowing me,’ Tony laughed, groaning at the touch.

‘Apprentices, Tony, not ninja minions-’

‘Ninja apprentices then. You’ve got good timing, I think I’ve finished, You want to see?’ Tony asked, curving his head back against Stephen’s shoulder, exposing his vulnerability in such an effortless way. It created feelings of contentment, which spread through Stephen like fine lace, soft, delicate, subtle. This was an intimate spot for Omegas as it held their bonding glands, but for Tony, who had been seized and strangled in such a fragile area time and time again, it held a deeper meaning.

Omegas did not relinquish their trust easily, did not offer themselves to any Alpha they did not deem worthy, and Tony had more reasons than most not to trust any of them. Reaching down, Stephen ran the edge of his nose down the column of his throat, kissing the bite mark in the hollow of it with an infinitesimal brush of his lips.

‘Show me,’ he whispered against Tony’s skin.

A delicate clinking noise made him look up, and he felt his eyes widen at the complexity of the crib mobile Tony had made. He knew his mate had been driven to boredom constantly during his pregnancy, trying to hide his frustrated tears while biting down on the angry retorts he wanted to inflict on those who cared about him.

The safety of their pup came before everything else in Tony’s mind. They had known pregnancy would put stress on Tony’s body, that it would be difficult because of his age and the lasting repercussions that had come from having the arc reactor wedged inside his ribcage. Still, Tony had wanted to try, and Stephen had never been able to deny his obstinate mate anything.

It pained him watching Tony give up the things he had loved, the Iron Man suit, his place on the Avengers team, creating in his workshop. Stephen had tried to find safer ways for him to invent, but the Omega was having none of it, his singular focus keeping their pup safe.

Reaching down, Stephen cupped a fragile-looking wing in his hand, tilting it so the sunlight caught the turquoise glass, sending little splinters of sea-green light over Tony’s hands. Every individual butterfly was intricately wrought, the shimmering metal lattice encasing the glass membrane of wings.

‘Tony, it’s beautiful,’ Stephen whispered, picking up the steel ring the glass butterflies were all attached to by delicate chains, lifting it above his head so he could hear the jingling of the mobile as it moved in the wind, marveling at the cascading butterflies that Tony had spent months crafting.

‘Only the best for our little butterfly,’ Tony told him, preening and turning in his chair so he could point at the hook above the crib in the corner of the bedroom.

It had become a shared joke between them, Tony ridiculing Stephen’s superpower ability to create butterflies.

You were the one who tried to stop Thanos with butterflies!

To something more meaningful.

What does it feel like? The pup moving inside you?

I don’t know… like I’ve swallowed some of your magic butterflies.

‘I’d do it but I’m sure I’ll get told off for trying, and the last time I handed the Cloak something it dropped it,’ Tony laughed, waving Stephen away.

He did as his Omega bid, holding his cargo with care as he walked over to the crib, hanging the mobile and then looking back, crossing his arms over his chest as he made a thoughtful noise.

‘I dunno, Tony, what if the pup prefers little cups of coffee or something?’

‘Bite me, asshole,’ Tony grumbled, getting out of his chair. ‘You said coffee was fine while I’m pregnant.’

‘One cup a day I said. I heard all about your screaming match with Wong the other day,’ Stephen chuckled, reaching into the crib to reposition the cuddly elephant Peter had gotten the pup.

‘You’re all working against me…keeping me from my coffee,’ Tony spat, grimacing as he took a step forward, swaying on his feet.

Stephen immediately reached out for him, leaping forward before he froze, cowering under the glare he received for his trouble.

‘I’m not trying to be overprotective. I know you can look after yourself, but I’d feel better if you were off your feet, douchebag. I know you’re uncomfortable-’

‘Understatement of the year,’ Tony growled.

‘Sweetheart, you’re handling it so well, honestly. Come on, come sit down with me on the couch. I’ve not seen you in a while and I missed you, please?’

Tony relented at that, not because of any Omega instinct to please their Alpha, but because he knew Stephen did miss him when he was away with the other Masters of the Mystic Arts. They both understood that Stephen was keeping the world safe from interdimensional threats, but that didn’t stop the pain at being apart, especially now Tony was carrying.

‘You big softy,’ Tony relented, walking across their bedroom to the couch and sitting sideways on it, patting behind himself. Stephen settled in behind him, resting his back on the armrest of the couch before encouraging Tony to recline back into his chest, cradled by his legs.

His chest rumbled in something akin to a growl, nothing close to the noises an Omega could make when they were content and happy, but the meaning behind it was the same. Tony let out a satisfied sleepy noise, going boneless in Stephen’s grip, all but purring as trembling hands reached down to stroke over his stomach.

Stephen felt something nudge back against his touch, and he smiled, kissing the crown of Tony’s head, using the same spell he had earlier to sweep across the swell of Tony’s stomach. The Omega’s skin glistened gold where magic seeped into his muscles, relaxing any of the strain.

At times like this, Stephen couldn’t believe his good fortune. He’d never wanted an Omega in his younger days, obsessed with his standing and career path, and he hadn’t wanted to be tied down by an Omega, hadn’t wanted a committed relationship. He had been satisfied with being alone, of not being beholden to his impulses, his baser desires. Even if a little voice had whispered at him during the melancholy afternoons of playing piano by himself, that had been soon drowned out by work and social obligations, a quick fling with whoever took his fancy.

After his accident, the idea of being damaged, of being a fractured Alpha, had been too much for him to bear and he couldn’t consider finding a mate. Tony thrust himself into his life after their battle with Thanos, had demanded that Stephen stop thinking such detrimental things. Tony knew how it felt, how the societal expectations placed on Omegas mirrored what Stephen struggled with.

Omegas were meant to be caregivers, produce children while caring for their Alphas. Times had changed since then, but not the pressures or the expectations. Now, they were meant to have careers while producing offspring, juggling multiple obligations while still caring for their Alpha.

There were the toxic Alpha expectations too. Alphas were meant to provide for their mates, to guard and protect, offer support, financial security. Any deviation from this, any feelings of caring or nurturing projected an image of an unworthy Alpha. It was just as restrictive, just as demeaning, but none of them spoke up about it.

Tony nuzzled closer to him as he let out a sleepy whine, twisting so he laid on his side, trying to get closer but his stomach preventing it. Stephen accommodated his mate the best he could, allowing Tony to rest his head against the gland in his neck, as close as he could get to his natural scent.

He couldn’t smell himself, but Tony had once told him he smelt wonderful. It wasn’t something he could put into words, just like Stephen couldn’t explain his. Scents weren’t easily defined by a simple word, they were complex, evoking memories or feelings within individuals rather than smelling like everyday objects.

‘Safe,’ Tony muttered, exhaling heavily, succumbing to his exhaustion. Gentle, puffing snores fanned over Stephen’s chest from where his Omega’s head drooped on it, and he gently repositioned Tony’s head so it could rest flat on his chest. He was determined to let his mate rest, especially knowing it was in such short supply at the moment.

The idea that this Omega, this remarkable man had come to him, a broken Alpha made Stephen want to weep. It was Tony who began the courtship ritual, a complicated dance of gift giving and demonstrations of worthiness that the Alpha should have initiated.

Tony had never been conventional.

‘Tony, I can’t give you what you want, I’m-’

‘What? Broken? Newsflash, Doc, I’ve been shattered and remade so many times I’m not sure how much of me is left. Tell me no if you don’t want me, refuse my advances if you don’t want me to court you, but don’t tell me how I feel, or decide your worth because of what society tells you.’

Tony had trusted him with his heart, a rare gift considering those who had hurt him in the past. A snarling growl ripped its way out of his throat at the thought of those who had betrayed him, those who were meant to care for him and tried to forge him into something new, a creature neither Alpha nor Omega. His rational mind quickly suppressed his baser instincts as he felt Tony react to it, drawing away from him, his hands reaching down to protect his stomach.

‘Easy, sweetheart, it’s just me. You’re safe,’ Stephen whispered, reaching down to rub his jaw over Tony’s forehead, scenting him, reassuring them both that everything was fine.

Seeing movement at the door, he glanced up, suppressing his initial annoyance. The Cloak slipped through and shut the door silently behind it, gesturing towards the bed.

Nodding, Stephen watched as it floated over to pick up his novel, bringing it over and pushing it into his palm. It turned, appearing to regard Tony for a moment before gesturing with its hem. Chuckling, he nodded, allowing the Cloak to move closer. The edges of it fluttered over Tony’s stomach, not enough to wake him, communicating silently that it was here, that it would guard their pup.

You can rest on him. You know he likes it, Stephen sent telepathically, flicking his fingers at the book and making it levitate beside the couch, turning to the page he’d been at days ago. The Cloak settled over them both, cocooning them, the warmth unbearable for Stephen but a reassurance for Tony, who snuggled closer to them both, falling deeper into sleep.

Tangling his fingers in Tony’s messy hair to hold him steady, the other hand resting on his stomach in protection, Stephen began to read his story, basking in the contentment of having his family nearby, the chimes of the butterfly mobile soon lulling him off to sleep.

#ironstrange #fanfic #thank you for the ask!#writing prompts #alpha/omega #mpreg #stephen strange #tony stark

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annabethy · 4 years ago

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under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 24: christmas carols

Character A doesn’t feel the Christmas spirit but Character B, who lives above them, keeps playing Christmas carols really loud,, percabeth

Annabeth has never been one to thoroughly enjoy the holidays. She doesn’t necessarily have anything against them, but they’re just not for her. They never have been, for as long as she can remember.

She didn’t get any presents when she was little. Her family did the bare minimum for Christmas. There might have been a tree with the blandest decorations, but that was it. So she grew up with a rather distasteful opinion towards Christmas too. To be fair, it’s more to do with her family than the actual holiday itself, but there’s an association, and now she can’t stand either.

That’s why she decided to move away from California as fast as possible. She graduated high school and booked it, not looking back since. And it was difficult surviving in New York City without any financial support, especially as a college student, but she managed. She worked hard and found a decent apartment.

Or she had thought she found a decent apartment, but there’s ear-shattering Christmas carols playing above her head that cause her to rethink that particular detail.

“You’re kidding me,” she mutters as another starts to play. It’s not even muffled – that’s how loud the music is, and she genuinely doesn’t understand how another person can be so oblivious.

She tries to brush it off for the better part of an hour, assuming that someone else would ask them to shut up, but nothing happens. If anything, it gets worse because the Christmas carols get louder and more unbearable.

An hour finally passes and her willpower fades.

Annabeth tugs on a jacket and slides her feet into the first shoes she sees. She’s vaguely aware of moving around with much more aggression than the situation calls for, but now the person above her seems to have started singing along, and she thinks that violence is the only language this person understands.

It only takes a few seconds of knocking at their door before it swings open. The person she now knows is a guy has a smile on his face that quickly falls when he takes in her own face.

“Hey,” he starts, eyes roaming her face. “Are you okay?”

“Actually, I’m not,” she says. “I think my brain may be hemorrhaging.”

She can see his face morph into confusion. His green eyes actually look a bit concerned for her as he scratches his neck. “What do you mean?”

“Your music is so loud it’s making my brain bleed,” she snaps. “Can you just, you know, have some consideration for those around you and turn it down?”

“My music is too loud?”

“It’s giving me a headache, so I don’t know how you haven’t gone deaf yet.”

“But… they’re Christmas carols.”

“Yeah, I was able to hear that. Because they were loud.” “You don’t like Christmas carols?” He asks it with such passion that she thinks he’ll be seriously offended if she says no.

“I think Christmas carols are a disgrace to humanity.”

He actually gasps, a hand over his heart, but there’s a subtle grin on his face that lets her know he’s only messing with her. “I am so sorry for you.”

Annabeth’s jaw drops slightly. “Sorry for me? I’m sorry that you have horrible music taste.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “You don’t even know me, so how could you possibly know I have bad music taste?”

“I’ve been listening to you blast music for an hour, so trust me when I saw I know.”

He laughs. “Come on, you have to at least give me a chance to prove you wrong.”

“Prove me wrong?”

“To show you I have amazing music taste, and that Christmas carols are the best things to exist.”

She watches as his eyes trace over her, and she can practically sense the approval in his eyes. It makes her heat up just a little bit, and she crosses her arms over herself. “How do you plan on proving that to me?”

“You could come in and I will give you a three hour long monologue about the history of carols and their importance to the Christmas culture.”

She blinks.

“Or you could come in and help me make a gingerbread house while singing Christmas carols with me,” he suggests.

“You’re inviting a stranger into your apartment? What if I were a serial killer?”

“Jokes on you because I don’t have any cereal in my apartment.”

It takes her a moment to get the joke before she snorts at its pure lameness.

“At least let me make up for destroying your brain,” he says, opening the door wider.

“I still don’t know your name.”

“I’m Percy,” he says as though it makes up for everything else.

He’s funny, she decides. “Annabeth.”

He lifts the side of his lips in a lopsided smile. He doesn’t say anything else, simply stepping aside to let her in. She can’t believe she’s actually considering walking into a stranger’s apartment, but then she remembers that he was blasting Christmas carols, so how dangerous could he really be?

She walks inside and the music seems to increase tenfold. He goes to lower the volume from his phone, and it offers immediate relief as the pounding in her eardrums stop.

“Is that better?” he asks.

“The volume is better,” she says, “but the music is still abhorrent.”

“You take that back.”

Annabeth laughs softly as she joins him at the counter. There’s a gingerbread house out and in complete shambles. There is also piped frosting, and it gives her the impression that this is not his first attempt at this.

She looks up at him and finds his eyes already on her. It’s not in a rude way — he seems to be more intrigued by her than anything, and she doesn’t blame him. They’ve lived right next to each other, yet they’ve never met before. She’s just as fascinated by him and his distasteful melodies.

“You wouldn’t happen to be good at gingerbread houses, would you?” he asks, hopeful.

“Actually, I happen to be a competitive gingerbread house maker.”

“Really?”

“I’m an architect,” she tells him, twisting the plate with the house on them. “And I make a mean gingerbread house.”

“Please help me.”

“Why do you even need to make this?”

“I was bored because all my friends went home for Christmas, so I figured why not make a gingerbread house except I can’t get the sides of the house to stick for shit.”

“Enough said.” With that, Annabeth ties her hair up in an impromptu bun, grabbing the frosting from the counter. She truly did not come up to his apartment with any intention other than to make him feel pain for the suffering he’s caused, but then he presented her with this challenge, and she just couldn’t resist.

She certainly didn’t intent on liking it in his apartment either. He’s super kind she learns quickly. He offers her a helping hand and complements her every move, and he’s generally a very inclusive person. He asks her questions about herself and seems to be genuinely interested in her answers. It’s subtle, but in the back of her mind she thinks that she really likes him.

It’s mortifying that it happens in the span of one night, but even the three hours spent with them attempting to piece together a masterpiece (and baking more pieces at Annabeth’s request so that they can recreate a mansion) she finds herself laughing more than she has in months.

“I can’t believe you’re actually this good at making gingerbread houses,” he comments, leaning in close as she pipes an individual icicle onto the roof of it.

“I’m not sure what you expected from an architect.”

“Yeah, but… the person who just happens to come so they can murder me is exactly who I needed. You know what they call that?”

“Coincidence?”

“A Christmas miracle!”

She rolls her eyes, setting the icing down. “I’m only here for the decorating.”

“And because I need to show you that Christmas music is a blessing,” he reminds her. “It’s not possible.”

“It is, actually, because while you’ve been decorating, you’ve also been doing this little dance.

She freezes, just now realizing what she was doing. “I have not.”

“You have,” he says. “It’s cute.”

“I would simply never dance to Christmas music because I hate Christmas.”

“What reason could you possibly have for hating Christmas?”

“I never got to put the star on top of the tree.”

“Is that it?” Percy rolls his eyes. “You can put the star on top of my tree.”

Annabeth’s heart immediately jumps up, and she can’t stop the smile that spreads across her face. It’s so silly, putting a star on top of the tree, but it’s made her so excited for some reason.

“Do you want to?”

“It’s okay,” she says, keeping her voice steady. He smiles softly, grabbing her hand and dragging her away from the kitchen counter. His tree is small in the corner of the living room, and it’s mostly decorated. There is a box of ornaments sitting on a table besides him that lets her know he just hasn’t gotten the chance to finish decorating, and the star is beside it. He picks it up and hands it to her, an amused look on his face.

“Here,” he says.

She crosses her arms. “I’m not doing it if you’re going to laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you!” he assures.

“You’re laughing right now.”

“Because it’s adorable. Come on. Please?”

She gives him a last look before setting the star on top of the tree. It’s a bit taller than her so she has to stand on her toes and lean over it, and he steadies her with a hand on her waist. She takes a step back to look at it. It’s a bit crooked, but as she goes to fix it, he stops her.

“Leave it. It’s perfect.”

“It’s crooked.”

“That’s the point of Christmas! It doesn’t need to be perfect. It’s supposed to be warm and fun and leave you with that fuzzy feeling.”

Annabeth definitely feels that fuzzy feeling, but it’s not from the tree. It’s from the look he’s giving her that makes her face blush.

“You’re not going anywhere for Christmas, are you?”

She glances at him. “No. Why?”

“I just assumed because you said your family wasn’t the best. But I don’t think you should be alone for Christmas.”

“You’re alone for Christmas,” she points out.

“And I was trying to blast music to forget that little fact. It wasn’t working very well, but now you’re here!” She smirks.

“I think you should come over tomorrow so that neither of us have to be alone on Christmas.”

“I don’t want to intrude, Percy.”

“You’ve been here for hours now, and I’ve loved every second of it.” He elbows her lightly. “Come on. We can even make another gingerbread house.”

“I do love making gingerbread houses,” she says with a smile morphing into her face.

“Also I kind of like you.”

“Even if I came here with the intention of yelling at you?”

“To be fair, you did yell at me. I just thought you were cute and invited you in anyways, and you came in so you must also think I’m cute.”

“I think there might be a flaw in your logic there.”

“But am I wrong?”

She doesn’t answer because he’s not wrong. He’s sweeter than frosting, and he’s looking at her with such adoration that she really doesn’t want to leave and be alone on Christmas. Now she doesn’t have to.

“I’ll stay,” she playfully concedes, “if you really want me to.”

“I do.”

“But only on two conditions,” she says.

“And what are those conditions?”

“One, you have to put on some good Christmas music.” “What do you mean good Christmas music!”

“And two,” she starts, laughing at his bewildered expression, “Kiss me.”

That gets him to laugh, throwing his head back. “A kiss?”

“A kiss,” she confirms. “After all, you think I’m ‘cute.’”

His fingers curl around her waist. “You’re very cute. My cute neighbor.”

“And if you kiss me, then… maybe it can be more than just a cute neighbor.”

She knows she’s pushing her luck, but she’s always been good at reading people, and she can read him. She knows he feels the same thing she is. His eyes burn bright.

“If you say so,” he whispers, pulling her in and kissing her hard. It takes her breath away, and she wonders how she’s missed someone right in front of her.

Hours earlier, she’d been upset that he was playing music so loud, but now…

She’d never tell him, but she thinks she might like Christmas carols.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #my writing

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

WIBTA for taking everything I can from a former friend?

I 20 met this guy J 24M last year through a mutual friend, and since we happened to live in the same neighborhood we hung out more. For context, during this entire time I am/was also supporting an unrelated person financially, so I need every penny and have way less than J.

J has borderline personality disorder and does not go to therapy. I don't want to vilify anyone in the same situation, I'm just bringing it up because J's bps deeply impacts every aspect of his life.

He'd been going through some tough times, with his love life going to shit, cutting off his toxic family and having to find his own apartment etc, so I helped him often.

Since neither of us have much, we shared stuff regularly, e.g. he'd buy me food sometimes and I gave J my skateboard, among other things. I painted his walls & decorated, because I have the skill necessary and he doesn't. I went out to look at furniture with him. I asked my parents to give him furniture they were selling (he got it free). I frequently went to his place in the middle of the night, whether he had splitting migraines or thought someone had tried to break in. I helped him organize a Christmas party, even though he cancelled it because he got angry at someone or something. I cooked for him a few times (he doesn't cook). I let him use my washing machine after he moved into his new apartment without one, even though he owned a cat so all his clothes were covered in cat hair and I have a severe cat allergy, meaning I couldn't do my laundry normally & sometimes it came out with cat hair no matter how hard I tried (this lasted 8 months and would have gone on indefinitely if not for following events). Btw I did all of this without asking for anything in return.

Earlier this year, because of his ridiculously high expectations, he dumped his best friend at the time (the mutual friend), and assigned me his new best friend. After a few months, they became friends again anyway but I kept the "best friend" title.

In July, he hurt his dominant hand during an angry outburst. I was there when it happened but he seemed fine at the time. When he came to do his laundry the next day, Sunday, he told me that his hand was sprained and we talked about how he'd need to see the doctor the next day. He agreed to go. He promised to go to the doctor.

I know he's not good with going to doctors, especially on his own. So I texted him the next day and asked if he'd already gone. He responded "Nope, don't feel like", and upon asking why, he said that "it'll heal on its own anyway". Which to me read as 'I don't care.'

This pissed me off. I blocked him. I planned to unblock him once I'd calmed down, probably in a few days. I was really upset about this because it happens regularly. Him not going to the doctor when he should is a pattern, a bad pattern. He's gotten me sick that way.

The next day he texted my partner, asking if I was okay. They explained that i was upset at him for telling me he'd go to the doctor but then not going. He blew up at them that it was none of my business anyway whether or not he went to the doctor. Whined about his medical anxiety (which is valid but wasn't the point). Said that the sprain was healing so he didn't have to go. They argued for a while until my partner got tired and stopped responding.

Apparently I am now no longer his friend. He asked our mutual friend to tell me to pick up my stuff. I'm busy these days, so I haven't done it yet.

When I pick up my stuff, it's gonna be a whole list of things: a seat/cushion, a stovetop, 75€ worth of comics, a measuring tape, the skateboard, a box. I'll also bring him laundry detergents that are laying around at my place still.

Now WIBTA if I ask him to also give me pain medication to replace all the meds I gave him and money for the furniture I got him for free at the time (I'll ask 40€ even though they're worth more)?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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falling-pages · 4 years ago

Text

Losing Game: Hikaru x Reader

Inspired by Arcade by Duncan Laurence (please listen to it it’s so sad and really good)

“All I know, loving you is a losing game.”

College/Young Professional Hikaru x female reader

Angst

Warnings: I’m not exactly sure what to write. It’s not NSFW, it’s not smut, but there are mentions of sleeping around. No details, nothing explicit, only some mentions of it for context. No description or anything like that. Basically Hikaru being a deadbeat. Lots of angst. One or two instances of language.

Hikaru Hitachiin was an asshole.

You knew this before you started dating. His reputation had preceded him on your college campus, his bedroom the holy grail of frat houses. Seems like every time you walked through the academic lawn you could hear another story from another drooling student about another escapade he had put them through, another quest he had conquered. Rumor had it he collected rings from his lovers and wore them like notches in his belt, walking around in his sunglasses and leather jacket, hands out and swinging like an advertisement of his deeds.

It was disgusting, how he considered it all a game. A game he would always win, and they would always lose.

You couldn’t judge those wide-eyed students. Despite your anger, you understood the fascination with him: a man set to inherit millions, a confident attitude, enough bad boy swagger to dominate every frat you knew. And he was gorgeous--that red hair flaming in the wind, cocky smile reaching up to hazel eyes even made you feel weak in the knees.

But you ignored it, storming past him in the halls and never responding to his advances. Despite being born into wealth and power, he was the kind of man who always wanted what he couldn’t have--you, especially. You knew that to him you were just another notch on his belt, a ring on his finger. You’d die before you gave him that satisfaction.

Eventually, though, human nature had its way. You don’t remember how it happened, but one day he smiled at you, a real, genuine, lovely smile, and your stomach dropped. All you knew was that you were in big, big trouble.

You were in love.

Suddenly, the hatred had turned into a desire for him to be better, the disgust into wanting. You weren’t proud of it, but you couldn’t stop it. The curling of your toes became involuntary, the fleeting glances more stable. You couldn’t deny that the way he smiled at you made you dream of more. As you two became friends, even finding somethings in common, enjoying time spent together, you thought that maybe this wasn’t a game to him.

And then, one night, the barrier was broken.

It wasn’t a mistake, per se, but it did upend your life--out of that night your child was conceived, and you felt your heart dissolve into a thousand pieces. Suddenly you were yanked from your small town into the spotlight of Tokyo, the woman bearing Hikaru Hitachiin’s love child.

His first instinct was to run. Fresh out of college with a steady career path was in line for both of you, but now there was something else to account for, a little heartbeat intertwining both of yours. When he saw the positive stick, he experienced true fear for the first time. Fear that he would now have to give up his selfish ways, give up those games, give up his own reckless plans.

Neither of you wanted that.

And you--you were angry. Angry at him for doing this to you, despite being so careful. Angry for letting yourself fall for him into his chess board. Angry that you, and now your child, would be forever attached to him. You had done everything right so far, gotten into college, nabbed a great job, finally made something of yourself. And to have a child with him, of all people.

No matter how hard you tried, you would always lose his game.

The two of you broke up four months in, after tense weeks of disagreements and expectations. You wanted to keep the baby, but you had just gotten hired, and you couldn’t afford to waste all your college-earned credits in your first year of professional adulthood. So he pulled some strings and made your boss keep you, with generous maternity leave. For that you were the least bit thankful, but still hurting.

Something you hadn’t expected was him publicly claiming the child as his. Rumors spread, and he still loved you enough to keep you away and hidden from the paparazzi. But when asked if he did have a baby on the way, he couldn’t lie--that earned him a shred of respect from you.

Claiming the baby as his guaranteed comfort and financial support for the rest of its life, and yours, as well. You hated touching his money, but what else could you do? It was part of the rules.

When it came time to give birth, you didn’t know if Hikaru would show. You didn’t know if you wanted him to. He had accompanied you on all prenatal visits and regularly checked in on you during the pregnancy, but actually seeing the baby was a barrier you didn’t know he would be willing to break.

And yet, he did. You crushed his hand throughout labor, until the nurse handed you your wailing son. Your first impression of him was that he was beautiful, a mirror image of his father. That was a fact you didn’t even hate--and when you placed him in Hikaru’s arms, seeing this intriguing man become selfless for the first time in his life, you felt some shred of love return.

He stayed in your apartment for the first six weeks. It was lavished with everything a celebrity baby would need, but having him sleep beside you again was the real treat. You didn’t want to admit it, but feeling his arms and hearing him breathe in his sleep made you feel that heady, heart swelling way again.

Maybe you could all be a little family after all. Maybe he did, in fact, love you in return.

You two were able to laugh again, mosey about doing chores and enjoy spending time together. You had forgotten how easy it was to talk to him. He had forgotten how quickly you could roast him. Somehow, you both were able to patch up the brokenness and feel love again. Perhaps having a baby had matured him, made him lose focus of his games.

Another barrier broken: he kissed you.

You had just finished nursing your son and were pumping when Hikaru came into the bedroom. He sat on the armchair in the corner, resting after deep cleaning the bathroom, but when he looked at you, he smiled. Too exhausted to say a word, you smiled back.

He approached you, bent down to brush away your hair, and kissed you.

Surprised was a mild way to put it. Here you were, in the least attractive position possible, receiving a kiss from the man you weren’t sure you loved or hated. But the feeling of his lips was comforting, it was home, it was everything you needed to get through the night, no strings attached. It reawakened feelings you thought you killed. And the way he kissed--gently, with no sultry motivation, just to express his love--made you realize exactly what you were feeling.

I love you, you gasped when he pulled away.

The declaration shocked you, but he only smiled. I love you, too, came the hushed whisper as he leaned back in.

And for the rest of the night, there was only your son, your noisy pump machine, and him.

But, as with everything with him, it was too good to be true.

Just when everything had been going well, just when you felt your heart mend, he ripped it to shreds.

I think it’s best I leave, he had told you. You were nearly healed, and the baby wasn’t quite as fussy. He missed his family, he said. His real family.

Blindsided as you were, you felt it coming. The last two weeks had been too sweet to really be from his heart. You miss your family, you said, when your family was right in front of him?

He stood there and stared at the ground, coat already on and the collar already popped. You don’t miss your family, you spat. Tears burned behind your eyes, and your son felt heavy in your arms. You miss the old you.

I do love you, he said. I do. But we’re not a good match. I can’t be a good father--he deserves so much better than me.

You don’t want him to have a father who drinks and parties and doesn’t take responsibility for his actions? You said. You don’t want him to be like you when he grows up?

The venom was tattooed on your tongue as you felt the love wash away. It was wrong. He was wronging you and your child. That precious baby with his eyes, his hair, and his last name.

He just walked away, like he always did.

You took the ring off your finger and threw it at him, watching as it bounced off the wall near his head and down to the floor. Here, you said. Another ring for your stupid collection. You win your little game yet again.

You should have known. Loving him was a losing game.

If you enjoy what I write, please consider buying me a coffee :)

#ouran high school host club #ohshc #hikaru hitachiin #hikaru x reader #hikaru x female reader #angst #hikaru angst #ohshc angst #hikaru hitachiin x reader #ohshc hikaru

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normal-thoughts-official · 3 years ago

Text

With a little help from your friends (the help is praise kink and the friend is your boyfriend)

Who would have thought that fucking your boyfriend senseless cures dysphoria.

Alternatively: being a dom is actually something that can be so gender,

Fandom: It Lives (Visual Novels)

Pairing: Andy Kang/Tom Sato

Additional tags: let's see, mild mentions of transphobic and racist comments, Comfort Sex, the filthiest comfort sex uve ever seen but WHATEVER, dom andy kang, sub tom sato, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Dom/sub Play, Collars, Praise Kink, basically someone says transphobic shit and then tom rides him and talks about how wonderful andy is, except tom has also been in denial for a few days and he's super horny, and andy gets in domspace and everything is great and nothing hurts, Fluff and Smut, Humor, cuz u know these two are incapable of taking anything too seriously, Established Relationship, oh they're both in college and they go to the same college cuz i said so, set after the events of it lives beneath, that's it I think, trans author if that matters to you

Read it on Ao3

Andy isn't having a great day. It's not a terrible, clawing-at-his-chest-trying-to-deal-with-dysphoria kind of day, but he's been trying out this "not comparing everything to the worst possible scenario" thing his therapist has been talking about, so still, not a great day.

The thing is, he thought college would be easier. And it is, in a lot of ways. For starters, there is no evil monster spectre trying to kill him, which gives college at least 5 points over high school. And his uni has a pretty solid queer club, so he knows other trans people there. Some of them are even non-white. Some of them he even actually, truly likes. And most of the time, he feels like he has a place to turn to, and people to support him. He's not alone. He has people who get him. And that makes all the difference.

But basketball is still a nightmare, and his knee still hurts when it's cold, and winter is officially starting now.

People still hesitate to pass the ball to him, and it's frustrating, because Andy fought so hard to earn his old team's trust and now he's back at square zero. And well, Andy has been gaining this team's trust, because he's good, goddamn it, and his team owes at least the last three victories to him. He's not hesitant to say that, especially because otherwise no one will. And he can see that they look at him differently now - nod at him in the hallways, at least, talk to him in the locker room, pass him the fucking ball if his position is very, very open.

But if he weren't trans and Asian, he wouldn't have had to work so hard to get all of that - or well, just that, really. He has a full sports scholarship despite the fact that he had a broken leg, had to retake his last year of high school, and doesn't even have the body type for basketball. If he weren't Asian, if he weren't trans, his team would have assumed his greatness from day one. Instead, he has to show it to them time and time again only to get them to reluctantly admit maybe he's not bad. No one calls him "triple threat" anymore, but he still has to work three times harder than anyone else, and it's frustrating.

And usually Andy can deal with it, but right now his knee hurts, and he can't afford that because he'll lose everything he's worked for if his teammates know that his fucking knee hurts. So, he braved training and then he got the fuck out of there without even changing so no one would see him wince. Which means he's still in basketball shorts, which are short, in the cold, which means his leg hurts more.

At times like these, he's thankful he never got the chance to go through with his promise to break his other leg kicking Noah's ass. Because he would have, and then both his legs would be hurting right now, and two legs that hurt every time it's cold is just too many legs.

No comparing to the worst possible scenario, he tells himself. Therapy is so hard. If he had known there would be homework, he would have thought twice about going.

And that's, apparently, the cue for his phone to go off. Andy smiles, knowing who it is even before he opens the message, because only one person messages him during class, and it's the only person he wants to hear from right now.

Tom <3 sent you a message

Grinning like a fool, he opens it.

Tom <3: dude, im horny af rn. the fuck

Finally, good news, Andy thinks, smiling. Then he remembers why Tom is so horny, and suddenly this day is great, actually.

He quickly types a reply.

You: who wouldve thought that 3 days of denial would make this happen

Tom <3: ill have u kno i was very good at holding it together before today

You: yeah, dw. soon u wont have to hold it anymore ;)

Tom <3: that flirt was terrible, dude

You: said the guy whos calling me dude for the second time in this conversation

Tom <3: what else should i call u? 😩

Andy thinks for a second. Tom and him do longer-term denial every once in a while, but they aren't in a 24/7 relationship. Does Andy really want to go there right now? Yes. Well, that was fast. Okay then.

You: how about "sir"

Tom's reply comes fast as lightning.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

Andy smirks at himself.

You: uve been hoping that id say that, havent u?

Tom types for just a little longer this time.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

----

Many things are wrong with the world, and Andy doesn't mean to make light of the other things, but the fact that Andy can't simply go and fuck his boyfriend whenever he wants is definitely one of them. It should be, like, financial compensation or something. We're so sorry the school environment is transphobic, here, have a free sex pass. Sounds fair to him. But instead, he still has two hours of classes to go through, and Andy is a better guy than he wishes he was, so he tells Tom to pay attention to class instead of sexting him, because he doesn't want Tom to struggle even more with his course when he had already had to leave it once. God damn true love or whatever.

The point is, by the time classes are finally over, his day is back to not being that great; he's tired, and his leg hurts. He gets to their car after Tom does, and Tom takes one look at him, and says, "I'm driving".

Andy crosses his arms. "Why?"

"Because your leg hurts," Tom answers, rolling his eyes and taking Andy's bag from him and putting it in the trunk.

Andy looks down at his legs. He wasn't limping. There aren't any bruises. How the hell-

"It's cold and you're in shorts. I'm not an idiot, dude."

Right. Yeah. Right. Of course. Tom knows. It's… It's alright.

"Bad day at training?" Tom asks, slowly, sympathetically, and Andy feels himself settle in his skin a little bit.

"The usual," he answers, getting inside, and, as always, Tom gets the hint.

---

Their uni's dorms are gender-segregated because these guys have still not gotten the memo that people of the same gender fuck; and Andy wasn't willing to deal with cis college guys' bullshit, much less cis college girls' bullshit; and the uni wouldn't let him simply pick Tom as his roommate. So, they rented out a beat up apartment right next to it instead. It took a little longer to get there, but it wasn't a lot longer, and well, it was worth it.

Tom gets inside, still carrying Andy's bag because he's transphobic and unfair and had taken it and bolted up running so Andy wouldn't have a chance to argue with him. And Andy can't run after him with his leg hurting, which kind of proves Tom's point that he should carry Andy's bag. All in all, Tom is the worst, and he turns up the heat as soon as he gets inside and sits Andy down on the bed, kneeling in front of him to take a look at Andy's knee.

He's silent for a while, massaging his knee until Andy sighs and throws his head back, before Tom plants a little kiss on his knee and looks up at him. Andy's knee always stops hurting when Tom kisses it better. It's a little embarrassing, if Andy is being honest, but still- nice. Really nice.

They stay for a little longer like this, Tom humming and massaging his knee and Andy not meeting his eyes, until the question inevitably comes.

"What happened?" Tom asks, not letting up with the smooth movements of his hands, his eyes big and sincere with worry.

"Nothing. Just the cold. You know how my knee gets."

"I meant, for you to leave practice without putting some warmer clothes on."

Andy looks away. "It was nothing."

"Dude, are you expecting me to go, 'okay, yeah, that totally makes sense and I believe you', or…?"

Andy laughs, despite himself, and throws his good leg up in an almost-kick to pretend he's retaliating. "Don't be an ass."

"I'm not. Come on, Andy. You know you can tell me."

"It's nothing, it's just- Kyle-"

"Oh boy."

Andy laughs. "Yeah." But then he grows serious, "the thing is, he doesn't mean any harm, you know? I know he's not saying it to hurt me, and so that just means that, like... that it's true."

Tom's hands stop their movements, rubbing soothing circles around his knee instead. "What did he say?"

Andy doesn't look at him. "He asked me why I didn't stay on the women's team. Said that I could have an advantage, cuz Asian people are androgynous anyway, so no one would notice that I was taking hormones."

Tom just stares at him in shock for a moment.

"And I was like, 'dude, I've been on T for three years, I'm pretty sure they would notice the changes'. And he was like, 'yeah, but you still look like a lot of Asian girls with short hair, you could write it off if you wanted', and I just…" He trails off.

Tom waits in silence for a second, seeing if Andy finds his words, before asking, "Is Kyle, like, okay?"

Andy scoffs. "I didn't try and fight him, if that's what you're asking."

"No, I mean, does this dude have a screw loose or something?"

"He's very bad at figuring out what is or isn't offensive, yeah, but it's not like he really cares, he just won't go out of his way to antagonize me."

"No, I just- Andy, even when you were a little kid with huge pigtails, anyone would have to be crazy to see you as a girl."

Andy bites the inside of his lip. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not. It's just wrong, man. It was so obvious that it was wrong. Anyone could tell. There's nothing about you that says 'girl' to anyone who's looking."

Andy sighs, finally risking looking at Tom's eyes. There's overwhelming sincerity there, and Andy instinctively looks away. "I guess. Maybe. I don't know. It just got me thinking... Maybe T didn't change anything. Maybe I look exactly the same, maybe it was just hopeful thinking that had me thinking it would change anything, maybe it's just- pointless to even try-"

"No, no, come on," Tom says, and the interruption is so sudden it makes Andy look at him again, just in time to see Tom shaking his head vigorously. "There's no way you believe that. What about this bad boy over here?" He smiles, reaching out softly to caress Andy's neck. "You have more of an Adam's Apple than me, dude. And we both know you don't need T to be a guy, but thinking it made no difference is just crazy and you know it. What about those dry pecs? These broad shoulders of yours? Your voice, I mean, come on. You even smell different, man. How can it be pointless, if even your scent is different?"

Andy looks to the side again, but he can feel himself smile. "Well, when you put it like that..."

Tom gets up, but stays close, putting his hand on Andy's cheek, slowly, as if testing the waters, before turning him slightly to look at him. "Andy. Kyle is an idiot and a transphobic racist who's too damn lazy to realize how fucked up he is. And you shouldn't have to deal with that, and I'm sorry, and I will set him on fire."

Andy laughs. "You can't keep threatening to set every shitty teammate I have on fire."

"I can, because it keeps making you laugh," Tom says, smiling. Well. Andy can't argue with that. "My point is, you wouldn't listen to a word this dude says if it were about anyone else, so don't listen to him when he talks about you, okay? T or no T, you're no girl, and you don't look like a girl, and regardless of whether or not Kyle's dumb ass noticed it, your transition has been doing you good. Remember when your voice started to crack and get all weird? I've never seen anyone be that happy about it."

Andy laughs. "It was pretty awful."

"No, it was great, 'cause you loved it. Do you want me to pull out the 'before' pictures we took in case this happened? Look at yourself, dude. You fit so much better in your own skin, you know? And like, you've always been gorgeous, but-"

"Come here," Andy interrupts, pulling him down because Tom is standing and Andy is sitting and Andy is already height-challenged. And Tom goes willingly, carefully straddling Andy's lap and meeting him in a kiss. Finally, Andy thinks.

Tom kisses him softly, slowly, one hand resting on the back of Andy's head and the other draped lazily over his shoulder, as he usually does, all gentle and a little hesitant, and Andy is having none of that. So he grabs Tom's hair and deepens the kiss, bringing him closer until their chests are flushed together and he can feel Tom's hips mindlessly making little circles against Andy's belly.

They separate - or well, stop kissing, really, because Tom is still as close to Andy as physically possible, and Andy feels about ready to shoot anyone who tries to push him further away. Tom's a little breathless, and his hips are still making these almost imperceptible movements against Andy, and Andy realizes that he's still grabbing Tom's hair and that he's a little breathless, too.

Tom looks down at him for a second, as if debating something with himself, before saying, "and like, not to be horny during a serious moment, but since we're talking about the effects of T... Andy. Andy. Your clit. Fuck. It's so huge now, and it's got a visible head and you can fuck my face and everything, and I could sing it praises for a week and probably will if you don't stop me right now."

"Hmm, but I like it when you sing me praises," he smiles. "Keep going."

"God, I was hoping you'd say that. Do you have any idea how much I've been thinking about it today? I didn't hear a single word anyone said to me, all I could think about was you fucking my face, pulling my hair, making me worship you and beg to be allowed to suck you off, I wanna serve you like you're my God." Tom's hips start to jerk up, more visibly this time, shameless, and see, this is why Andy's been really, really liking this whole denial thing - Tom has only started to explore his subby side recently, a little ashamed of it to admit it to anyone, even himself. But when he's horny enough, he gets shameless and desperate about what he wants, and god, nothing is more beautiful than Tom when he asks for what he wants. He feels something growing inside of him, not sure if it's warmth or heat, but seeing Tom like that, wanting him, needing him, definitely makes him feel so much better.

"Yeah?" Andy asks, tracing a finger over Tom's shoulder, close to his neck, just to give him goosebumps.

"Fuck yes, I want it so bad, and you deserve it too, Andy… Sir. You're the best Sir I could ask for, I just want… Want you to use me, want you to cum on me, want to kiss you all over and worship you and pleasure you, you're so gorgeous..." He hides his face in Andy's shoulder for a bit, but his hips don't stop moving. He whines, "Andy..."

"Address me properly," Andy snaps, feeling the edges of worry clear from his mind and giving way to that wonderful feeling of clear-mindedness, of power, where nothing matters but his own pleasure. "And maybe I'll give you what you want, if you earn it."

Tom nods, hips full on thrusting now, and Andy snaps again. "Stay still."

And he does, immediately, without question, biting his lip and keeping his eyes shut with effort. Andy can feel his thighs clenching and spasming over his, trying to keep himself from moving, trying to be good. He hums in appreciation, but doesn't praise him for it, not yet.

"I'll get you ready," Andy explains, before reaching to Tom's hair, and starts to undo his bun, as slow as possible, just to watch him squirm. He gets so impatient when Andy undresses him, which is why Andy never misses a chance to drag it out.

He begins by removing Tom's jacket, sliding his hands slowly over his shoulders, then down his back, feeling the firm muscle there, digging his nails just a little bit so he can see Tom's eyes flutter in bliss. When the jacket falls to the floor, Andy begins circling the hem of his shirt, sliding until his hands are back on front, fingers just close enough to Tom's cock for him to feel Tom tense in his hands, so damn sensitive to his touch, so needy. God, he can't get enough of this, but he pretends that he doesn't notice, lets Tom try and keep himself together as Andy's hands slide over his belly, then chest, over the shirt, collarbone, wrapping and resting on Tom's throat just so he feels the threat of it, before Andy finally grabs the back of the shirt's collar and tugs, taking it off. Then he slides his hands back down, making sure to run a finger just over the sensitive spot where his pecs end, then lower, over his ribcage, belly, hips, next to the bruises where Andy had grabbed him the night before, then back to the middle, just over the bulge in his pants, and Tom finally breaks and jerks up slightly, letting out a little moan.

"Sir," he whines, "please, please, I-" Andy continues to circle the head of his cock with his finger, "please!"

"Patience," is all he says, before going back to his painfully light movements, imagining Tom's needy cock twitching under his fingers, imagining the effort Tom makes not to thrust up or keep begging for more, just because Andy told him not to. "You know how much I like playing with your pretty little cock. You said you wanted to serve me, didn't you?"

"Yes- yes, Sir."

He hums, noncommittally, not looking at him. "Good." He teases the tip of his clothed cock some more, enjoying the way his mind zeroes on that, the way he feels like he has all the power and the time in the world. Finally, he pats Tom's thigh once. "Get off, and take off the rest of your clothes. Get the lube and a condom."

Tom gets up, a little shaky, and does as instructed, while Andy reaches down to the drawer under the bed where he keeps his dick's spine and a few of their toys. He gets the spine, then adjusts his packer briefs so he can put it on - best purchase of his life, really, those briefs. So much easier to use than a regular strap-on and it makes the packer sit over his clit just right, making a little suction and pressure. Andy couldn't be happier that he was already wearing them.

Tom gets back with everything he asked right in time for Andy to finish making his dick hard, and goes on to put the condom on and cover Andy's cock in lube with the kind of attention that makes Andy hold his breath. Tom's so careful, yet eager, and adoring, about it. Andy feels like the hottest guy in the world.

Once he gets permission, Tom sits on his cock, slowly, getting adjusted to it - admittedly, Andy went a little overboard when he bought his first cock. Andy waits until Tom is fully seated, littering his neck with little kisses and praise for how well he's taking him, how pretty he looks, until Tom looks fully comfortable and ready to start complaining if Andy doesn't start fucking him in earnest soon. That's when Andy shows him the other item he pulled from the drawer - Tom's favorite collar.

Tom's reaction is instantaneous. He throws his head back, moving over Andy's cock as he lets out a breathless, almost choked moan; the hands he had resting on Andy's shoulders suddenly squeezing full force in his need.

"God, you're such a whore," Andy says, casually, and Tom nods, even as he flushes. The collar is just a simple black one, with a little hoop for the leash, but inside they had it engraved with the words Andy's whore, and it left visible marks that could be seen for a few hours after they took it off. It never failed to drive Tom crazy, so it always drove Andy crazy, too. "Stay still," he warns, and Tom nods, breathing heavily, gripping Andy's shoulder as tight as he can as he stays frozen in place. Andy slowly puts it around his neck, checking with his finger to make sure it's not too tight, and the second he clasps it in place, Tom's whole body relaxes, a content little sigh escaping his lips, his face slack and blissed out. He likes being owned, so much. Andy can't get enough of it. "Good?" he asks, just to make sure it's not too tight.

"Perfect," Tom answers, the words leaving him in a sigh. Andy then ties the leash to the headboard, making sure that they're just far enough from it that he'll be feeling its pull the whole time. Tom lets out a moan. "Thank you, Sir."

Andy smirks. "Now, here's what I want you to do," he says, "you're going to ride me, just like that, and you're not going to come until I tell you to. You're definitely not going to come before I do. If you come close, you'll have to tell me. I want to hear you scream, so make as much noise as you want. Do you understand?"

Tom nods again, almost dizzyingly quick. "Yes, Sir."

"Good, then get to it."

Tom doesn't need to be told twice. He starts riding him, slowly at first, trying to find the perfect angle for Andy - not himself, Andy notices, pleased. Once it's perfect, Andy orders, "faster, slut,” and Tom obeys, as always, working up speed as he tries to keep himself upright, feeling the tug of his leash with every movement, moaning the whole time. “Good boy,” Andy says, and Tom’s responding whine is high pitched, embarrassing, needy. He gets even faster then, starting to babble as he keeps on working, and Andy just stays casually in place, not having to do a single thing while Tom works to give him pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so perfect, did you know that?" Tom asks, quickly sliding down on Andy's cock, making sure he puts all this weight in the end so Andy's cock will press down against his clit just the way he likes, making sure to go as deep as possible, "I've been dreaming of your cock for days, god, Sir, nothing's better than this," he hides his face in Andy's shoulder, speeding up even more, thighs shaking with the effort, and Andy puts a fist in his hair and pulls, watching as Tom throws his head back and lets out a scream, working even faster on Andy's cock. "Sir!," he whines, "oh, thank you, thank you, feels so good, oh my god, please, I'm gonna-"

"No, you won't," Andy interrupts, "I'm not even close to coming yet. Keep working, slut."

"Y-yes, Sir," he whines, going faster, deeper, and Andy makes it harder for him, keeps pulling at his hair to expose his neck, litters kisses and bites on his exposed throat, grabs his thigh and squeezes hard enough to bruise so Tom remembers he's his, his whore, his toy.

"I love it when you get like this," Andy says, doing his best to keep his tone even, even as he's a little breathless from pleasure, from power, "I bet you want to come so bad, don't you? If I'd just give you the word, you'd be making a mess of yourself, coming on my cock right now-"

"Fuck! Yes, yes, Sir, please, I'm so close."

Andy smiles. "No."

Tom whines, so cute, adorable, and Andy is nice enough to leave a little kiss on his shoulder, grounding, calming him down. Before going right back to torturing him, "no, you don't get to come for a long time yet. I want you just like this, on edge, tasting it…" Andy grins. "Tell me how close you are, baby."

"I'm- I'm so close-"

Andy slaps him in the face. "You can do better than that."

"Fuck, I feel like I'm going to explode, I'm so close, I want it so bad, and you feel so good, God, you have no idea what you do to me, Sir, your cock is so perfect, it hurts, I need it- need to cum on your cock, Sir, please-"

"No."

Tom chokes on a moan, and starts to go even faster. He lets out a little whine, something Andy thinks was supposed to be a word, but doesn't come close.

"See," Andy says, "this is why I won't let you come. Look at you - every time I tell you no, you get so desperate, so obedient - it's what you want, isn't it? You want me to keep telling you no, you want to know your pleasure doesn't matter, that you're just here to serve me."

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes-"

"Good, then keep going. And beg all you want- I like telling you no, too."

Tom does. He begs, and he says thank you when Andy denies him, again and again and again. Thank you, Sir, thank you for using me, for putting me in my place, I'm yours, I'm yours. And he keeps on praising Andy, praising his cock, his body, the way he fucks him and uses him, no one else makes me feel like this, no one deserves to be worshipped and served like you, Sir, I want to make you feel good-... Until even the clear-minded state of domspace begins to crumble and Andy feels nothing but pleasure, and confidence, and power, and he cums to the sound of Tom praising him and begging, once, twice, three times, until his head is clear again and everything, even the need to chase his own pleasure, is gone, and he just feels perfect.

"Stop," he orders Tom, who's still babbling more and more incoherently, endless praise and worship, and Andy finds that he worships Tom right back. "I want you to get my cock as deep inside you as you can, and stay still. I'm going to play with your dick for a while, and when I tell you to, you can come. You did well today, baby."

Tom nods, suddenly struggling to use his words. "T-thank you, Sir," he says, already frozen in place, thighs clenching with the effort not to move and also shaking with all the effort he did before.

Andy coos. "Poor baby. You were so good to me today. Let me take care of you."

"You always- always do, Sir," Tom replies, and Andy smiles.

He gives Tom a long, slow handjob, making sure Tom stays still through it, enjoying the way his thighs shake on top of Andy's, the pressure of Tom sitting tight on his cock, the way his arms also shake with effort where they rest around Andy's neck; Tom's pretty, exposed throat all marked up around his collar, his breathless little whines as Andy makes sure to do it just the way he likes it, makes his cock turn red with need; watches Tom bite his lip, because when he has to keep still he becomes so quiet and needy, even as the little whines go through his lips… Until Andy finally says, "come for me, baby," and Tom screams through an orgasm that lasts almost a minute, hanging on to Andy as tightly as he can to keep himself anchored through the pleasure.

And then Andy holds him, and Tom holds him back, and they hold each other.

----

A while later, they've cleaned up Tom's cum so it doesn't get all sticky on Andy's chest, and Andy's finally taken off those damn briefs - they're great for sex, but get pretty tight when you wear them for a long time - and Andy holds Tom against his chest. He's humming, contently, and if anyone had told him at the beginning of the day that he'd be comfortable enough to have someone close to him while he's fully naked, he'd - well, probably assume they meant Tom, but still be skeptical.

"How do you feel?" Tom asks after a little while, finally opening up his eyes and saying hello to the world.

"That's supposed to be my line," Andy laughs.

"I feel great. Perfect. Next time, I wanna do it for longer. A week? Let's try a week. Or two weeks…?"

Andy laughs. "Let's not make too big of a leap yet."

"Fine. A week sounds good. Great. And now that we've established that denial is totally bomb for me, how are you feeling?"

"Honestly? I'm feeling great, too," Andy admits, playing with a little stray of Tom's hair, swirling it around his finger, "I think I needed that, a little bit. Who'd have thought that having you ride me and praise my cock cures dysphoria."

"Every trans top on every forum I've ever visited."

"Let me have my moment of realization," Andy mumbles, faux-annoyed. Tom just laughs, holding him closer.

"I'm just glad I could help," he says.

"Please tell me you didn't ride my cock just to help."

"Well, no, in case you hadn't noticed, I was horny as fuck. I just tried to, you know. Use that to give you a little push. Since you wanted to. Y'know. Also, it was all true. So..."

"Thanks, love," Andy says, earnestly. "I love you."

"I love you more."

They bicker about it, and Andy's smiling the rest of the day.

#it lives #tom sato #tomoichi sato #andy kang #tom x andy #andy x tom #it lives in the woods #ilitw #it lives beneath #ilb #it lives anthology #smut #i am back on my bullshit ig

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