#endeavour reunion

[jessieren]

It’s almost the end of 2024 and so that means it’s time for an Evans retrospective...

And so I present to you the top Evans spotting moments of 2024:

Laos (and THAT blue linen shirt...)

2. Exeter College

3. UIKY teaser pics

4. MAMA exhibition in Brixton (ok so we didn't spot him there but it was his photography on display - for possibly the first time in an exhibition(?) - and we got the Pink Tape 😂)

5. Patti Smith concert at Somerset House

6. Backstage with Endeavour friends at Three Men in a Boat

7. HIA read through (aka THAT black t shirt... 🥵)

8. HIA Rehearsal pics

9. Opening Night (aka Hair-gate) and Press Night (the SCRUFF 🥵)

10. HIA post show discussion

11. HIA fan photos and encounters *sigh* (so. much. good. content) AND the live stream (thank you OTT)

12. UIKY press screening and UK release

13. Almeida Theatre rehearsed reading

14. St Catz book launch

15. MacMillan Follow The Stars

Thankfully - after quite a drought - we got lots of great Evans content through the year and got to enjoy some amazing theatre, tv and personal encounter moments.

I'm forever grateful for the friendship, fun and laughter that we share on here - and that I got to meet Shaun this year, and that he was such a wonderful human being.

Roll on 2025...

[olympain]

[fanficrocks]

Oh these two… it has been too long. We really need a reunion special, and ideally before Christmas 😂

"The captain I would have followed into Hell."

[feralrabidcrow]

I'm sure all of us are familiar with what happened to Heavy and Medic in the TF2 comics, particularly, comic #6.

They reunite after spending 6 months apart following the mercenaries being fired. Heavy has been living back in Russia with his family, and Medic has joined the TFC team, which has gone horribly.

Their reunion is in a less than ideal situation as Heavy is interrupting Cheavy from tearing Medic into pieces. Cheavy kills Medic, and Heavy completely loses his shit. He is determined to kill the man who killed his Doktor. To a degree that doesn't seem like avenging a friend, almost more like avenging a partner. Someone he loves deeply.

But then Medic comes back, and Heavy is just... weirdly casual about it. He goes from complete rage mode to "Ah Doktor it is good to have you back." No hug, no tears, just accepts that Medic is alive again. It almost feels like there is an awkwardness between them.

From a logical standpoint, this is just TF2 being TF2. The emotional moments in the comics are often quickly switched to a comedic tone.

But my Red Oktoberfest obsessed brain has latched onto this hard, and I have a headcanon that is now deeply ingrained into my worldview.

Heavy and Medic broke up when the team disbanded.

As much as I like the idea of Heavy and Medic keeping things going long distance and writing letters to each other, it doesn't make much sense to me logically.

This is something I've thought about a lot, to the point where I'm considering writing an angsty little one-shot about it.

I believe that when Gray Mann took control and fired the mercenaries, Heavy and Medic were left in a complicated situation where their interests no longer aligned. Heavy wanted to go back home to Russia and take care of his family. Medic wanted to look for a new job to continue his medical mad science endeavours. No matter what, if they were to stay together, someone would have ended up dissatisfied. After trying and failing to come up with a compromise, they decided the best thing was to go their separate ways.

But it didn't change the fact that they still loved each other. They went on to their new situations, with feelings of lingering regret and wondering what could have happened if they had stayed together.

When they reunite in the comics, this is the first time seeing each other since their painful break-up. They still care deeply for each other, hence Heavy instantly becoming protective of Medic when he sees him in danger. And when Medic dies, he snaps completely. He has thought about this man constantly since returning to Russia, silently hurting over the loss of the only real relationship he ever had. And now that man is dead. Of course he's going to lose it.

But when Medic comes back, he's confronted with the fact that Medic technically isn't his partner anymore, not at this point, anyways. In comes the awkwardness. He isn't sure how to approach this now. He and Medic have barely even spoken to each other at this point, much less talked about their feelings or their break-up.

I like to think shortly after the 6th comic ends, or sometime off-screen, they talk things out, resolve their issues, and maybe even share a lovely little reuniting kiss. But hey, that's just a theory! A game theory!

[ectologia]

FAMILY REUNION

DABI + FEMALE READER + KEIGO TAKAMI

CONTENT: DUBCON/NONCON, INCEST, THREESOME, MISOGYNY, FULL NELSON, ANAL, DOUBLE PENETRATION, CLIT TORTURE, ABUSE, FORCED BREEDING, CREAMPIE

Your fingers swipe across the condensation collecting along the window pane, smudging the droplets of water to create a transparent slit to peer out of. You stare out into the cottony white rift of the Todoroki’s lavish garden. Flecks of white collect on the damp concrete patio, the flowers and trees now coated in a glistening sheen of frost. You long to feel it’s chilling bite instead of the suffocating warmth of the fireplace blaring next to you.

“Not much of a party girl, huh?”

You turn to meet the owner of the silvery voice, your jaw unhinging itself at the sight of the man. Raptorial golden eyes squint back at you, the corners of his lips turned up in a lofty grin.

“Oh, no. Yeah. Not really.” You mentally scold yourself for making such a spluttering mess of your words, barely having even said anything.

He chuckles at your jittery demeanour, setting himself down next to you on the plush leather of the love seat you had taken refuge in. The scent of various spices and sandalwood rush past your nose as he makes himself comfortable, slinging an arm over the back of the chair while he takes a brief sip from the small, ornate glass cradled in his fist. You cock your head at the inconspicuous amber liquid, you deduce it’s some type of expensive alcoholic beverage. Curtesy of the bar, no doubt.

“Whiskey.”

“Huh?” Your brows tilt.

“It’s whiskey.” He dabs a finger over the rim of the glass, exhaling. “Expensive stuff, gonna have to thank ol’ Endeavour for this whole get up.” He leans back, spreading his knees apart until the fabric of his pant suit rubs against your leg.

He notices how you shift away, pivoting to face him at a safer distance. The tip of his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he watches you cross your legs, folding your hands neatly in your lap. “You’re friends with the Todorokis?” you question.

He chuckles, looking down at the polished marble beneath his feet. “Yeah, I guess you could say that..” He turns to look at you once again, his eyes half-lidded and hypnotic. “Name’s Keigo.” He holds out a thick palm. You meet his hand hesitantly, but he’s keen on a firm handshake.

You clear your throat, placing your hand back between the cleft of your thighs. “I’ve never seen you before?”

“Not really part of the family, just a, uh.. acquaintance.” He flashes you a sleazy grin. “I’m here with my buddy.”

Your eyes follow his as he gestures to the corner of the room. You see the shadow of a hunched figure, clad in a suit not unlike his. You study his tall stature, all the way up to his mane of ashen hair, flecks of white neatly speckled at the overgrown roots. He’s on his own, scowling at the numerous crowds of chortling elders. He raises a hand to tug at his tie, releasing it from his throat a few notches before his eyes trail to meet yours, you blink away almost instantly as his piercing ceruleans cut into you.

“He’s not to happy about this shit-show, so he asked me to tag along.” He takes another swig from his glass. “Pardon my french.”

You say nothing, opting to twiddle your thumbs and flick at the strands of hair creeping down by your ears.

“You here with anybody?” He jiggles the ice held captive in his glass.

You shake you head, clearing your throat to address his question properly. “Uhm, no. Just my parents.”

He chuckles. “No boyfriend then?”

You give a coy smile, shrugging him off. “Ah, no.”

He turns to you with an almost bewildered expression, his lips parting to form an oval in faux shock. “Seriously? Damn, I would’ve thought a pretty lady like you’d be taken by now.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “Guess it’s my lucky day, huh?”

You chitter nervously, attempting to ignore how his hand had crept it’s way from the back of the couch over to your shoulder, stroking over the smooth skin found beneath the skimpy straps of your dainty slip dress. “You see my friend over there?” He raises a finger from his glass to point at the man in question.

You nod, confirming you were both looking at the same person.

He leans down to whisper in your ear, his hand now curling over the ball of your shoulder. “He likes you.”

Your brows knit, tilting your chin up to meet his rusted yellow hues.

“It’s true.” His hand glides from your shoulder down to the dip of your waist, chuckling as you shudder at the warmth of his palm stroking over your ribs. “He told me to come over and speak to you. Wanted to know if you were single.” You bristle as he dips down to nuzzle his nose into the warm pudge of your swiftly reddening cheeks. “Should I tell him you’re not interested?”

Your mouth gapes as you prepare an answer, but all that escapes is the pitiful gust of air trapped in your throat. He’s watching. A pierced brow twitches upwards at your glazed over expression, you can’t tell if he’s glaring at you or Keigo as he tips the thick rim of his glass to meet the seam of his lips, the prominent bulge of his adam’s apple bobbing as he empties it’s entire contents down his throat at once.

“Oh.” keigo coos, bringing you back to his presence. “If looks could kill.” He chuckles, bringing his hands down from the satiny curve of your waist, standing up to smooth the creases of his tailored jacket. He gives you a taunting pat on the cheek. “I’de better get going. I’ll see you later, babe.”

He leaves you with a flustered expression as he glides away with a curt smile.

“I asked you to talk to her. Not finger her on the spot.” Dabi huffs, shouldering past keigo to slouch against the brick wall.

keigo flinches at the abrasive shove, straightening himself out before speaking. “Woah, hey. I was doing what you told me to. I just had to butter her up a bit first.” He smirks, folding his arms against his chest. “Besides, I think she was into it.” He sing-songs.

“Whatever.” Dabi mutters beneath his breath before reaching a hand into his pocket. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes, popping the tab open to pluck one from the box. “You want one?” He offers the packet towards keigo.

He shakes his head. “Nah, I actually wanna live past 30.”

“Suit yourself.” Dabi rolls his eyes, tucking the box back into his pocket before pulling out a small mechanical lighter. He thumbs the wheel before a gentle flame flickers from the wick.

“I want her pussy.”

Dabi frowns, halting his movements. “What?”

Keigo shifts on the balls of his feet, clearing his throat. “When we fuck her. I wanna’ take her pussy.”

Dabi snorts, flicking at the glowing embers of his cigarette. “You’ll get what you’re given.” He inhales sharply, a dense stream of smoke seeping out when his lips finally part. “Anyway, I already called dibs first.”

“Well I spoke to her first.” Keigo hisses through grit teeth.

Dabi cracks his neck to the side, popping the slender joints as he closes in on Keigo. “My house, my rules.” He takes another lengthy drag, this time allowing the musky cloud to waft into Keigo’s face. Dabi clicks his tongue as he splutters, waving a dismissive hand in his direction.

“Fine.” Keigo scowls. “I’ll take her ass then.”

“That’s the spirit.” Dabi chuckles, slinging an arm over his shoulder. He exhales a strand of grey smoke through his nostrils. “So, what’s she like up close? Her tits decent?”

Keigo’s sour expression immediately morphs into a smirk, his tongue protruding from his cheek. “Yeah. couldn’t see much ‘cause of her dress though.”

Dabi tuts. sighing deeply. “That’s alright.” He swats keigo on the back. “We’ll have plenty of time to look at ‘em later.”

Keigo nods along with a nefarious grin, peering through the outer window of the entrance. His brows quirk at the numerous kitchen staff flitting about the party goers with trays balanced in each arm, toppling with food as an elaborate feast is set along the excessively large dining table. “Hey, food’s ready.” Keigo juts his chin, motioning to dabi.

He grunts, letting the butt of his cigar fall from between his fingers, the heated ash sizzling and melting through the pearlescent snow blanketing the ground.

The racket of knives and forks scraping against porcelain is shrill against your ears. You can barely part the guest’s voices into a single conversation, save for how your mother continually pats you on the knee to get your attention.

“Eat your food.” Your mother whispers over your shoulder.

You pick up your cutlery in it’s respective hand, carving into the slab of meat doused in gravy. “I am, I am.”

Your mother cocks her head. “What’s the matter? Do you not like it? We can get you something else if you want.”

“No, I do like it. It’s fine.” You shrug her off, popping the fork into your mouth.

Your jaw aches from working so long. You swallow with a harsh gulp, raising a hand to escort the leathery chunk of meat down, repressing the gag that threatens to escape. You cup your mouth as you clear your throat, scanning the table for anyone who may have seen your subtle expression of disgust. Your brows perk as you meet the same flaxen locks from earlier. His nose wrinkles as he smiles, pointing at the same untouched cut of steak on his plate, clasping his throat and sticking his tongue out in a gagging motion. The corners of your lips quirk into a broad smile, hiding behind your palm as you giggle.

Dabi watches with a bitter scowl, tilting his head expectantly at Keigo.

Keigo’s laughing falters. He nods before standing up. Your head follows him as his thumb swings over his shoulder, mouthing something to you.

You twiddle your fingers in your lap before turning to your mother. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Be quick.”

Almost instantly, your chair is pushed backwards as you rise. Keigo makes sure to be discreet, already having turned the corner as you trail along after him.

Your head snaps left and right as you search for him. “Keigo?”

“Right here, sweet cheeks.” He reveals himself, slumped against a wall decorated in portraits.

You smile, letting your feet carry you towards him. “What did you want?” You cock your head, paying no mind to how his hands had already began to wonder.

“You.” He hums before clutching your hips in his large hands. He spins you around until your back collides with the wall, jostling the ornate paintings hung there. You waver as he mashes his lips into yours, but quickly reciprocate, petting at his chest as you swallow his tongue down. He pulls back, using the slender muscle to prod at the corners of your mouth, licking up and down your cheek like a slobbering dog. “Do you want me?” He whispers. You have no time to answer as he hoists you up against the wall by your rear, groping each dome of flesh with clawed fingers.

“Wait.. Keigo, wait.” You turn away, only serving to entice him more as he sinks his teeth into the delicate ridge of your collarbone. You cry out, clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your squeals. Your bodies move in unison as he bounces you in his arms, arching off the wall while your pelvis rubs against the dark linen covering his—

“Party started without me?”

Both heads snap up to address the voice. Dabi chuckles as he spots your dazed, glossy eyes peeking over Keigo’s shoulder. You’re lowered back down onto your feet, your heels clacking against the marble surface.

“Was just warming her up for you.” Your brows knit as Keigo creeps backwards, making room for the second man.

Dabi sees how your eyes dart between him and Keigo, skittish like a bunny as he corners you. “Hey, pretty thing.” He strokes a scarred knuckle up your cheek, grinning as you flinch. “I’m Dabi.” He bends down to capture you in his arms, blowing into your ear. “But tonight, you can call me anything you want.”

“Keigo?” Your eyes flicker to him, stood with his hands loosely held in his pockets with an almost bored expression.

Dabi snickers, curling his boney fingers around your dainty wrist. “Nah, apart from that.”

“Take her dress off.”

you’re passed around by your armpits like a limp kitten. While Keigo works on slipping your dress over your arms, Dabi tugs at your panties. He clicks his tongue once the skimpy garment is pulled off of your ankles. His fingers reach for the buckle of your open toed stilettos before his wrist is seized.

“No, leave ‘em on. I like ‘em.” Keigo mutters.

Dabi rolls his eyes, pulling away to run his hands up your calves. “Alright, fine. Freak.” He thumbs the flesh of your thighs, spreading your legs open with ease. “But I’m gonna be pissed the fuck off if she kicks me.”

Keigo shuffles behind you, cooing into your ear. “You’re not gonna kick are you, sweetheart?” He keeps the backs of your knees hooked over his elbows while Dabi inspects your pussy.

Dabi whistles once he cleaves your folds apart, a thumb pressing down on each of your labia. He wets his lips at the sight of your twitching pussyhole. “Damn, look at this little twat.” Your hips buck as he immediately plunges his index into the opening, twisting and pivoting his wrist to feel around your gummy walls. “You a virgin?” He takes your squirming as a positive, removing his finger to flick your clit harshly. “Let’s make this quick. My dad’s been on my ass all night.” He juts his chin towards Keigo.

He nods, lowering a hand down to tug at his zipper. Dabi had already whipped his belt out of the loops, leaving the metal buckle to dangle from his waistband as he shimmies his trousers down to his mid thigh. He chuckles, palming his dick through the thin cotton of his boxers. “I’m hard as a fuckin’ rock. Been waiting to fuck this pussy all night..”

The situation suddenly dawns on you. You flip around in Keigo’s hold like a fish out of water. “Wait. Stop, I don’t wanna do this anymore. Keigo!”

“Sorry snookums, Keigo can’t hear you right now.” Dabi snickers, pinching the tip of his now fully erect cock to rub up and down your tiny slit, slapping the sluggish appendage against the little bundle of nerves sitting at the crest of your pussy. You panic with overstimulation as the spiked cogs of his piercings click through your pussy lips, bumping your sensitive clit with every tug.

Your toes crinkle and your cunny pulses as he violently prods the sensitivite button. “Aha — oh!” You tilt your chin up to look at Keigo over your shoulder, hoping for some kind of aid. Sunset golds darken to rusted coppers. He really wasn’t listening, he was more focused on jabbing at the puckered rim of your asshole with the tip of his cock, gaging how fast he could go without tearing the delicate flesh. You turn back to face Dabi’s wicked smile. Your lip quivers while your eyes glaze over with a concave of tears, caught like a deer in headlights.

He tuts, pressing the pad of his thumb down to jerk your little clitty side to side. He purses his lips once he sees the tears fall. “Awh. She’s crying, Keigo. Look at her.” He sniggers, swatting Keigo’s knee. “Why you crying, hm?” Dabi weaves his fingers through your curls, pulling your head down to tuck your chin against your chest. You can only scream and shake once the small flicks turn to harsh circles. He puts his whole arm into jack hammering your clit with his hand, rubbing the tiny button up and down in rapid strokes. “Oh, yeah? Is that it? You crying because i’m playing with your little pussy?” Once he’s able to see the white of your sclera, he begins to coo at you through grit teeth. “Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff, huh? Feels fuckin’ good doesn’t it girlie?”

“Stop it.”

Dabi pulls away from your twitching form to stare Keigo down. “Awh, ‘s daddy getting protective?” He gives a mocking pout.

“You just said you wanna’ get this over with. Quit dj-ing her clit and just fuck her already, man.” Keigo scoffs.

“Temper, temper.” Dabi smirks, relenting in his assault. He drags a knuckle through your sloppy cunt, giving an approving hum once he sees how the near translucent strings of slick coat is fingers. “Yeah, good enough.”

Keigo locks your hips to their limits, keeping you pinned like a butterfly in his arms while dabi lines his fat-mushroom tip up with your entrance. the taught circle of pink flesh can only stretch as he plows his way through. he lets out a guttural howl once he feels himself prod at your cervix. he smiles down at your shocked expression. your mouth gapes when he slams his hips into the contorted slit. your hoarse whimpers warp into shrill moans when he repeats the motion. the pain is only bearable until the scrunched rim of your asshole is pried open by the cock beneath you. your body rejects the stretch, flexing around keigo’s base.

“fuck. fuck, oh yeah. yes. shit.” keigo hisses as dabi’s thrusting rocks you back against his dick.

dabi reminds him to compliment his rhythm. when the ravenette slams himself into your pussy, the blond should retract. their fluidity doesn’t soothe the pain. dabi shushes your pleas, clamping a hand over your mouth as you cry. “shh. sh, sh, shh..” he presses his forehead against your own to peer deeply into your glassy orbs. “do you remember me?”

you give him no response, just the subtle furrow of your brows and the simple effort of not allowing your eyes to tip back into your skull. he chuckles darkly. “s’me babe. touya.” he gasps when he feels the distorted walls of your cunt clench and twist. “did you miss me?”

“touya..” you whimper. he snorts when he feels the warmth of your breath dampen his palm.

“yeah, that’s me. am i still your favourite cousin?”

he can’t help but laugh at your feeble nod. “awh, am i really now?” he signals to keigo to pick up the pace. your breath hitches as the weight of dabi’s heavy ballsack swings into your ass with every push. “you gonna let your favourite cousin cum in your pussy?” he releases your jaw.

“touya!” you squeal, your voice warping and wobbling as you’re bounced on keigo’s hard cock. “oh! oh! ungh! touy.. ah!”

“hey.” you flinch as your pussy receives a curt smack. “it’s dabi now, i told you.”

“you.. your hair..” you sniffle, peeking at dabi through slitted eyes as you’re head collapses against keigo’s shoulder.

he cocks his head, halting the movement of his hips to run his fingers through the inky black mane. his lips quirk upwards, the silver rings decorating his mouth clicking. “oh yeah. dyed it.” he takes you by the hand, placing it atop his head. “what do you think?”

your hand slips from his scalp to his cheek, smoothing a thumb over the metal studs and bars slitted through his flesh and the black swirls painting his once pale, milky skin. “touya..”

he scowls at your pitiful hum. he despises that look. the one of sympathy, of regret. like you think he’s lost something. he snarls, grimacing as he shoves your hand away. “don’t look at me like that.”

it makes him want to do bad things to you.

he clutches the back of your thighs in his hands, forming crescents under the pressure of his nails as he snaps his hips forward.

“ah!” you can’t help but yelp. you’re lolled back and forth on their cocks. you eventually grow numb to the pain, but refuse to acknowledge the hint of pleasure that shoots through your spine with every plunge. your mind has gone blank, your lids fall with every second that passes, your sounds now incoherent. you’re pleading again, your voice sounds like a broken record with the continuous chants. “oh! oh! uh! tou — dabi! dabi, please!”

“shut the fuck up and take it you stupid bitch.” dabi hisses.

keigo’s bouncing falters at dabi’s abrupt change in demeanour. he eyes his friend from over your shoulder with knitted brows.

“don’t stop keigo. i want you to rip her a fucking new one.” dabi goes from lethargic strokes to harsh digs, blowing into your womb with every push and pull. your jaw is caught in a vice grip as he spits in your face. “i never liked you, you were always such a stuck up little cunt. even as a kid. you could never just mind your own fucking business, could you?”

“fuck!” you’re hoisted off of keigo’s length as he releases. his legs shake beneath dabi as his puckered slit spurts all over his stomach, spraying the milky white fluid across dabi’s bed. “shit. fuck. agh.. sorry man.” keigo apologises through his orgasmic disposition.

dabi hums, allowing your limp frame to collapse into his arms. “don’t worry ‘bout it.”

you’re laid back on the feathery down of dabi’s mattress. he takes your ankles in each palm, restraining you as he jack hammers into your unprotected cunny. he speaks through his laboured breaths. “you wanna know what happens to stupid, nosy little cunts?..”

“they get bred.”

before you can respond, ropes of white accompany the buck of his hips. a guttural groan erupts from the base of his throat, he’s still thrusting, battering the thick cream against the entry of your abused, swollen womb. “take it.” he grunts. “oh, yeah. fuckin’ take it. get my seed nice and deep in there.” he rocks into you from side to side, emptying his balls.

“jesus christ man.. that’s your cousin.”

dabi turns to keigo with a lecherous grin, still cock and balls deep inside you. “we like to keep it in the family.”

[bakugou-jpg]

✧ Past never dies | Touya Todoroki/Dabi ✧

Request: Ayee! Can i request a scenario for Dabi with a female s/o who is a hero. They were childhood friends, till they were like 16, until dabi left and became a villain. Dabi never clicked in, except for y/n who was his only and best friend. They used to have feelings for each other and Dabi still does since he always had watched over her? by anon.

⤷ -Genre: angst -Characters: touya todoroki/dabi -Tags: light angst, reunion, childhood friends, grief -Word count: 5.9k words -Warnings: violence, blood, vomit, death, abuse [mention] -Author: noelle part of the rewriting series

You were 5 years old when your parents decided to move away from the small town village you had known all your life. With your father's business having grown a whole lot larger over the years, it was only a matter of time before he took it to the bigger cities. A man who had taken his glass shaping abilities to the industrial world rather than the hero one.

From a very young age you had known what path you wished to take. Unlike your father, you had been granted the ability to harden and shape your very own skin with it. As fragile as glass could be, you were determined to proof the world the opposite. To proof the world that your quirk had as much potential as any other.

You were 5 years old when you hid behind the legs of your mother as your parents had taken you to meet your new neighbors. At the time you thought the house you and your parents moved into was big —especially compared to your old one that was. A thought immediately thrown out the window when you first laid eyes on the Todoroki residence. The fact that the head of the household, the number two hero as if he wasn't intimidating enough yet,  watched you like a hawk the minute you stepped foot into their house didn't make it all too better.

At the time they only had three children— Touya the eldest who was the same age as you, Fuyumi who was 4 and Natsuo who was still but a baby at the time. Shouto hadn't even been born yet, Touya still being Endeavour's greatest creation at that moment.

Your mother wanted to you to befriend more children so you'd feel more at home in your new town and what better way but to meet the children next door? Something which didn't take too long as you almost instantly bonded with their eldest son over your shared ambitions. Touya more than eagerly showed off his quirk to you, your eyes immediately widening in amazement upon feeling the warmth of his flames brushing against your cheeks.

He had laughed at you when you had shown him yours, immediately pointing out the fragility of glass. Upon hearing his words you, like any child at that age, did what anyone would do after getting called weak— which was immediately jump him to proof him wrong. Touya, like any child at that age, acted accordingly— gladly returning your sparring to proof himself right.

And just like that, each of you having received a good amount of minor burns and cuts topped off by a good scolding of both your mothers, you had found yourself a new friend. In truth you got along with all the Todoroki siblings at the end of the day, but Touya was the one who you clicked almost instantly with.

At the time you didn't know about what went on behind closed doors. About the both emotional and physical abuse, neglect and the pressure put on those he viewed as an extension of himself rather than their own person. Of course, Endeavour never played the part of a warm loving father and you were aware of the fact Touya had very limited time in which the two of you were allowed to play together, but you hadn't known of the seriousness of it all.

It wasn't around the time the youngest Todoroki sibling was born that you glimpsed into the family's real problems. Around the time that it came to light that Touya's body was made to withstand the dangerously low temperatures of ice like his mother but simply unable to handle the heat of his own quirk.

When Endeavour cast Touya aside to focus on his new successor— the one who would surpass All might. With Shouto possessing both his mother's and father's quirk, Endeavour became obsessed with training the boy into what he viewed to be the perfect hero. Unlike Touya, Shouto's body was able to withstand both ice and fire making him Endeavour's perfect creation.

It was around that time that Touya started his late night journeys to sneaking off to your house. With Endeavour not even granting him as much as a glance anymore, his siblings not seeming to understand and his mother at the edge of madness, Touya had no one. You had been the only one who would listen to him, the only one that seemed to understand the reason for feeling he way he did. After all, becoming a hero was the thing the two of you had bonded over since the very beginning.

It was a silly promise the two of you had made at the time, swearing to one another that you'd become heroes together. Hero agencies right next to each other so you could visit all the time, maybe even a shared one if given the chance. The plans you came up with were never ending— the very last source of hope for Touya who believed the entire world had given up on him. The one who believed he could find a way eventually.

He could always count on you to be there with your comforting words, listening ear and pretty smile to welcome him with open arms. Touya was your very first true friend. The type you genuinely believe you'll grow old with— two 40 year old somethings sitting on your couch with a drink having a laugh while reminiscing on old times. Someone you knew was always gonna be there.

Touya had also been your first heartbreak.

That unexpected Thursday morning in which frantic pounding on your front door woke you and your parents up— an inconsolable Fuyumi and Natsuo barely being able to form words through their sobs and hiccups standing in front of your doorstep to bring you news you hadn't expected to hear for another 60 years in the least.

After all, Touya would grow old with you right? You had so many things planned after all with attending UA together, the hero agencies right next to each other and both being in the top 10 together right? Touya knew that as much as you did, so how could he just go ahead and leave you?

You were only one year away from attending UA,  the very first step towards your dream. One that wouldn't feel complete without him there. For Touya to just go ahead and die right before that..

The image of the closed casket would forever be burned into your retina. His quirk apparently having gone out of control, burning his own body to ashes. There wasn't even anything left to bury, so why had they even bothered getting a casket in the first place? You couldn't help but wonder how scared Touya must've been in his very last moments. How alone.

At times you blamed Endeavour for what happened, believing that the pressure the man put on his family and the abuse he had caused having been the reason Touya was so determined to proof himself even to the point of his own demise.

There were times in which you blamed yourself. Had your naivety been the cause of it all? Had those times in which you spoke of the future together and told him you believed in him, given him false hope? Even though his body couldn't handle his quirk, had you made him believe that maybe if he went all out it could?

The weight of your grief was always present in your heart, every achievement that you had made leaving a bitter taste in your mouth at the thought he would never get that same chance as you. Nor was he there to celebrate it with you. Surely through the years you had come to a point of acceptance, after all death is part of all our lives. It is inevitable and as much as you could never fully let him go, you had found ways to go on with your life.

At the end of the day, you had graduated. Years of hard work having been paid off in fond memories and a hero license in your pocket. At the end of the day it all worked out. Now at 24 years old, you had your fair share of experiences in the hero world already.

You weren't one of the big name heroes, but you still had a handful of fans. Here and there your name had been mentioned on the local news and you had even teamed up with some of the bigger one such as Hawks and, unfortunately, Endeavour. Now having climbed your way into the top 30, you finally allowed yourself to feel some sort of pride for your hard work.

Something which was fast to fade away as you had managed to get yourself cornered by some unnamed criminals you caught causing a ruckus late at night after some drinking. 

Your body was failing you in every possible way. For your quirk to still be somewhat cooperative was a miracle on its own, but with your knees already having succumbed to whatever it had been the tailed man had injected you with, it could only be a matter of time before the rest of your body would follow.

Maybe this was your doomed fate— to die right at the very start of it all, just a few feet away from the starting blocks. Barely having made a name for yourself, the headlines probably wouldn't even give you the recognition you deserved and simply describe you as 'B-tier hero' as the announced your death. The least you could hope for was they'd at least mention you went all out until the very end.

At this point, you weren't even sure what you were fighting for anymore. Was it still the dream of a naive teenager who believed that the life of a hero was exactly as it appeared in the movies? Praised by millions, helping those in need, and never having to worry about expenses?

But all that was washed down the drain when you realized that life was only reserved for those with flashy quirks and big personalities. People like Endeavor, whose heart was as rotten as a corpse left to wither and decay in the open sun. Men like Hawks, who hadn't even gotten a choice but to accept the cruel fate set in stone for them by the Hero Public Safety Commission—a company that did as it pleased.

All Might had been one of the few genuine ones left, but with his fall came the collapse of hero society itself.

You blindly followed the path you had chosen—after all, what other choice was left? At the very least, you hoped to be one of the few good ones remaining, to show what the true meaning of a hero was. That very thought was what kept you going, what helped you get out of bed in the morning.

With that in mind, you groaned through gritted teeth and raised your arms in front of you. Your skin tingled before a thick layer of glass replaced its upper layer. The sharp material extended to the tips of your fingers, hardening and fusing into sharp spears.

Even with all odds against you, you were determined to prove yourself. Pushing yourself up using the spears you'd just created, you struggled to harden your knees to stabilize yourself. Though you were in no shape to take even a few steps forward, perhaps this way, you at least stood somewhat of a chance. The men could only laugh at your pathetic display of courage. Three of them— all still standing and suffering only minor injuries— against you, someone who could barely stand on her own. It was only a matter of time before the rest of your body succumbed to the venom slowly spreading through your veins before giving out.

Seeing you stand again made the bald-headed man raise his tail once more. He could only smirk when he saw you slightly wince at the sight of the stinger, it still dripping a mixture of your blood and poison from the last time it struck you. You couldn't help the hairs in your neck from rising.

"Haven't had enough yet, girly? Can't blame you—"

The stinger whipped back before lashing out your way, its tip shining with beads of poison. It was the last thing you saw before shutting your eyes, arms thrown up to shield your face. Fragile as glass maybe, your very existence was proof it could be much more than that.  

Before you knew it, a wave of screams erupted from the men, followed by an almost incinerating heat slamming into your face. For a moment, it was almost comforting— right until the moment you felt the tips of the spears heat up, to the point the melting heat spread through your entire arm and burned the skin beneath

Had it been Endeavour that came to your aid? 

As quickly as your skin had turned to glass before, as quick it was to turn back. With your arm shielding your face from the heat, you finally managed to peek through your eyelashes. Almost instantly you were blinded by the brightness of the flames before you, the blue sea of fire becoming almost unbearable to stand next to. It was a challenge to be able to make out whoever was the source of the heat— the searing wind almost drying your eyes out. You could only hope the heat hadn't burned your eyelashes and eyebrows off.

It was then that you saw the source of it all—a tall dark haired man standing only a few feet away from you. He had his arm stretched out in front of him, hand open and palm directly pointed towards where the men had been standing whilst his other one was snuggly tucked into his pocket. The power held in just the palm of his hand was enough to fill the entire alleyway with a sea of flames.

He didn't even seem slightly fazed by the fact the three men from before had completely burned to crisp— there ashes falling to the ground as their entire existence had just been wiped off the surface. Even their bones had been completely incinerated.

You couldn't dare move. Whether it had been fear which caused you to freeze up or the fact forming a single coherent thought seemed impossible after what just happened, you weren't sure. You could only watch the man's back— eyes shot wide like a deer caught in headlights. 

For a moment, you had completely forgotten about your knees— until they could no longer bear your own weight. Almost instantly you fell back into the wall, a soft groan rumbling in your throat at the impact before your hand instinctively reached out to the swelling sting mark on your hip. 

The place where the man had stung you started throbbing, the burning sensation in your muscles now spreading throughout your legs. Besides the feeling of your muscles on fire and throbbing, the wound itself had swollen to twice its size from before. You could only hope the infirmary had some sort of antidote lying around for a situation such as this.

Finally the man in front of you lowered his arms, the wave of fire immediately dying down leaving only a few small fires in its wake. Brick walls were covered in black soot, nearby trash containers melted to the ground and you couldn't even begin to describe the smell of burned trash and bodies. The three men from before had been reduced to nothing but a few piles of ash, blowing away in the wind.

"You should've ran."

His husk voice rang— back still turned to you. With the heat gone you could now take a much better look at him than before. He didn't seem like a hero, at least not one that you knew of. His coat was torn in several places, a bad stitching job holding the sleeves together and most of its edges having fire damage. Despite the poor state of his clothes, it was a miracle they managed to only have such minor burns to them.

It wasn't until the man glanced over his shoulder to look at you that you caught a slight peek at his face. Purple scars, presumably caused by his fire, littered his face all the way up to his ears and neck—a collection of messily placed staples holding it all together. You wondered if he still had sensation in those areas; the patches looked so rough and dark you could only assume the skin had died a long time ago.

When the man finally turned on his heel was when you finally got to take a good look at him. The scarred skin seemed to spread across his entire body. There seemed to be more scarred places rather than normal healthy skin. Could his body even withstand his own quirk or had it been someone else's that had caused such severe burns? 

As shocking as his scars had been, it was his piercing blue eyes that locked with your own that almost instantly caught your attention. The very same bright blue in which his flames burned. Almost mesmerizing if it weren't for the fact fear currently settled deep within your stomach.

For any hero, or even civilian, would've been able to figure out who the man was after taking a quick look at him. A face that had been on the news and headlines so many times even children heard of him—and feared him.

It should've been obvious from the very start with how high of a temperature and what color his flames burned. No hero would go so far as to wiping someone's entire existence off the earth within seconds. Despite this, there had been something in you that tried convincing you that perhaps the knight in shining armor that came to your aid was just another hero—maybe even a vigilante.

Not a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Was he here to mock you? Toy with you until the very end? It was embarrassing enough you couldn't help yourself against the other three but looking back you should've been thankful for such a quick end. 

After all, the villain known as Dabi, someone affiliated with the League of Villains, was known for his cruel methods. If it wasn't death by hours of torture, body littered in severe burn marks and clothes melted onto your own flesh— it was death after having been consumed in his sea of flames. In which case you could only hope he left your bones so that people still had something they could bury or identify you by. 

Maybe, just maybe, if you hadn't been in the condition you currently found yourself in you could've stood somewhat of a chance. Not even a chance at victory, that was completely out of the question, but just a mere chance to flee at the slightest opening given. Flee from the fire, flee from him. Even then you were in no shape or form a good match against him— glass had a melting point after all.

Heavy was the sound of boots echoing through the alley as he got closer to you. Not once had he broken eye contact with you ever since your eyes had locked for the first time. Dabi was a man that was hard to read, a villain known for the fact he genuinely did not seem to care about his actions. You couldn't tell if what just happened affected him in any way or whether it was just another day on the clock for him.

You weren't sure whether or not the unsettling heaviness in your stomach and the sweat beading on your forehead were caused by fear or side effects of the poison coursing through your system. Maybe if you were in luck the poison would take you out faster than he would. What seemed like a slow and painful death before, now looked like a merciful one.

"You are no Mirko or Mt lady. Know your limit."

His tone was a condescending one— voice awfully low as he got closer to you.

"W-what the fuck do you want from me..?!"

The words came out lacking every little bit of confidence you would've liked it to have, voice trembling in a way that betrayed the tough facade you had tried to maintain. It was painfully obvious that the act you tried putting on did in no way match the fear that had run your blood cold. You felt like a lamb cornered by a wolf, one who got their pleasure out of seeing the fear of its victims before ripping them to shreds,

Hearing you snap back at him caused him to pause for a moment, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. With the obvious power difference he probably hadn't expected you to still try and bite back at him. For just a moment there was a tiny flicker of hope in you that held onto the thought that maybe, just maybe, you had intimidated him for a moment. A tiny flicker that was immediately dimmed beneath the shit-eating grin that tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Is a man not allowed to perform a good deed once in awhile, miss he-ro?" The last word spoken a little dragged out, the R rolling over his tongue, tainted with mockery. To him you must've been no better than a kid dressed up as a hero for Halloween. A mere joke.

Dabi didn't even seem to consider you a threat as he continued to drag his feet forward, hand stuffed deep into the pockets of his slightly damaged coat. With the way his eyes bore into your own you didn't dare look away, scared he'd be at your throat the minute you would. You weren't even sure whether to be relieved he had yet to make his move or to be even more frightened of that.

A sharp scoff escaped your throat shortly after he finished his sentence. For him to even consider himself a man rather than the monster he had proven himself to be, was as much as a joke to you as your entire existence was to him.

"Working on your good karma now?" 

There was a nauseating feeling slowly spreading through your chest, your insides churning as the internal battle against the poison was starting to get the best of you. Cold sweat began to drip down your face, every fiber of your being screaming for relief as if your organs cried out for help.

You weren't sure whether to focus on him or the rising panic of trying to swallow down the inevitable, desperately trying to stall the moment in which the content of your stomach made its way into your mouth. It was only a matter of time before you'd succumb to the effect of the scorpion man's quirk.

A loud cackle echoed through the alley, the disturbing laughter bouncing off of the charred cement walls. The sound of his voice invaded your eardrums, adding only more discomfort to the already throbbing pain inside your skull.

His hand ran through his hair as he smiled down at you, a visible joy radiating off his face. The further his lips curled upward, the more the staples seemed to strain against the pull of his lips. You wondered what it felt like— whether or not they hurt. Could he feel them pulling at his skin constantly? Did the sharp edges hurt the inside of his mouth? Maybe they felt like piercings to him, no different from the ones in his ears and nose.

"You haven't lost your sense of humor— how wonderful." 

Dabi stopped in front of you, his piercing blue eyes peering down at you as he towered over you. Only then did you realize just how tall he actually was. As if his appearance on its own wasn't already intimidating enough, dead charred skin only being held together by low quality staples of which some were still covered in dried blood.

It was hard to put your full focus on his words as you tried your very best to keep your breath steady. With every second that past the strength to keep your own head up felt like a much bigger challenge than before.

"Such a marvelous hero you've become—"

The man kneeled down in front of you, a grin still very present on his face as his eyes scanned over your face. With a slight tilt of his head, Dabi pressed his lips together into a thin line. The way he was studying you felt almost violating with how close his face was to your own. 

A heavy, stale smell of smoke invaded your nostrils as he got closer. His clothes reeked as if they had marinated all night by campfire, a scent that made you feel strangely nostalgic to your youth. It was the very same smell which Endeavour carried around with him after a long day of work. Though Endeavour's was more subtle, it always lingered in his office.

"—and still as pretty as ever." his husky voice murmured, a small grin spreading onto his face.

Before you could even fully process his words, his fingers were on your face— gently moving the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty forehead away from your face. His touch was strangely gentle, the skin of his fingers being nowhere as rough as the rest of his exterior. Soft even.

Death was kinder than any man ever would be. To be humiliated at the hands of the cruel, scarred pyromaniac in your final moments was not how you wished to spend your last moments. At this point, even if he planned of mutilating your body beyond recognition, the poison currently having spread through your entire body would take you out long before that.

With that final boost of motivation, you managed to use the last bit of strength your body could offer to activate your quirk at your fingertips. A tingling sensation spready through your skin as it transformed, a glassy layer forming at your finger tips. Tiny claws extended, and in one quick motion, you managed to slash the palm of his hand.

With the current pathetic state you were in you only managed to cut him once before he leaped back, causing you to fall forward. In your life had you never felt so incredibly betrayed by your own body— usually being able to fully transform yourself and now barely having managed to turn your fingers.

Your arms were the only thing currently supporting you, but with the way your muscles were currently twitching you barely even managed to do that. It was a fight against your own body at this point— vision starting to blur the longer you stared down at the ground and your heart hammered against your ribcage, each thump echoing the growing despair of your declining health.

Turquoise eyes widened as they stared at the blood seeping from the palm of his hand, forming a small puddle on the ground. If you had cut just a little deeper, you would have split open his staples, forcing him to endure the hassle of putting himself back together again. The thought made him smirk.

Even in the state you currently found yourself in, you still tried fighting him? Though your quirk might've not been one of the flashiest ones and especially not one that could match his own— yet here you were. Willpower that could rival those in the top 10.

He squeezed his hand, more blood seeping between his clenched fingers before dripping down his wrist onto the ground. In a swift motion, his tongue dragged across his skin licking up some of the blood that stained his skin.  It was then that you noticed a glistening, small metal ball resting on the tip of his tongue now tainted in crimson blood.

A deep chuckle rumbled in his throat, a twisted smirk once again tugging at the edges of his mouth. "My, my— that's no way to greet an old friend, (Y/n)-chan" He taunted, voice laced with mockery.

As hard as it was to focus on your surroundings with your current state, those words had not gone past you— eyes immediately narrowing in response.

It had been quite a few years since your debut as a hero, years in which you faced countless of villains. From street-level pick pocketers to more notorious criminals that had made a name for themselves, you had fought many. However, due the fact you had not been one of the top heroes, you never crossed paths with anyone affiliated with the League of villains— that was until now.

For an organization that hadn't been around long, the League had grown at an alarming rate in the last few months. The Hero Public Safety Commission had their hands full with them, especially after All might's fall. Missions regarding the League were reserved for the top heroes— people like Hawks and Mirko.

Especially someone like him—a man covered in scars from head to toe with flames that rivaled those of Endeavour, would surely be someone engraved on your memory. Even if you had encountered him, there was no way you could've gotten away unscathed.

A soft grunt rumbled in your throat as you pushed yourself backwards again, your back resting against the wall. You searched your mind for any possible solution, confusion clouding your mind as you tried to recall where you possibly could've seen him.

Black hair, piercings, scar littering half of his body, flames that burned hotter than anything you'd ever felt before, turquoise eyes—

"C'mon doll, i haven't changed that much have i?"

Your breath hitched in your throat , a gasp caught by disbelief as your eyes widened in realization. For a moment it seemed as if the world around you had gone completely still, the only thing you heard being your heartbeat echoing in your own ears. It felt as if your heart had turned to ice, the chill spreading quickly through the rest of your body— numbing your limbs and wiping your thoughts.

His piercing gaze felt even more unnerving than before, turquoise eye boring into your own staring straight into your soul. The intensity of his soul sent shivers down your spine, unsure whether or not to feel relieved or scared.

"Touy—"

Before you could even utter as much as a word, Dabi was right in front of you with the palm of his hand pressed against your mouth in an attempt to silence you. The rough skin of he bottom of his hand felt like sandpaper against your lips, the sharp edges of the staples grazing your skin as his other hand held the back of your hand.

He leaned down and once again, the heavy, stale stench of smoke that he carried with him invaded your nostrils. The very same suffocating smell of death and ash that hung in the alleyway. As his cheek lightly brushed against your own, his warm breath fanned onto your ear-shell causing a shiver to run down your spine.

"Sshh— wouldn't want anyone to hear now, would we? I've got a whole show planned for it and all, would hate to spoil the surprise.."

His voice dripped with amusement as he whispered into your ear. You didn't even have to see his face to know that he was smirking, this was all a game to Dabi after all— your confusion and fear were his entertainment.

"I did miss talking to you, you know? About time we catch up."

The man leaned back slightly and, just as you had suspected, that same shit-eating grin pulled at his lips. The rough texture of his hand was still firmly pressed against your lips, the suffocating pressure only adding more rising nausea in your throat. Even despite all this, you couldn't ignore the feeling of his other hand softly threading through your hair like a twisted display of affection.

For just a moment you had completely forgotten about the state your body found itself in, that was until the nauseating feeling creeping up your throat from before that you had tried to swallow down came crashing back down on you.

As if sensing your discomfort, Dabi quickly pulled his hand back, just in time for you to throw your body to the side. You heaved as you gagged, the bitter taste of vomit rising in your throat and burning in your stomach. Tears burned in your eyes, a combination of both the nausea and helplessness, and the overwhelming wave of emotions running wild in your head. 

A pair of hands grasped the back of your head, plucking away the damp strands of hair that clung to your face as you leaned forward while emptying the contents of your stomach on the pavement. Your hands desperately clawed at the ground beneath you, the sound of your retching echoing in the alleyway.

After a few seconds you could finally allow yourself to breathe again, coughing violently as the acidic burn from the vomit scratched at your throat. You couldn't help the tears that streamed down your face as you desperately gasped for air, your arms trembling beneath your weight as you tried to keep yourself from falling down.

"Y-you— i was there..I-i..i buried you, you..ha.. you died." Your voice trembling, each word weighed down by the grief and disbelief coursing through you.

With the last bit of strength your body could grant you, you managed to crawl a little to the side before your arms gave out causing you to fall to the ground. The lightness in your head was slowly consuming you, the faint noise from the nearby fire crackling and distant cars now fading into a muffled blur.

You couldn't even muster the strength to turn yourself over, holding your eyes open being enough of a challenge on its own. It was Dabi who's hand gripped your waist that rolled you onto your back with ease so he could look at you. It was hard to focus through your blurry vision, his face blurred— only his eyes vibrant enough to capture your attention.

A strangely affectionate smile tugged at his scarred lips, unsettling as it was you couldn't help but feel at ease for a moment— but the ominous gleam in his eyes was quick to take that comfort away. It was the cloth he used to wipe your mouth clean that made you— just for a moment — recognize his old self beneath the rotten exterior he had build around it.

His thumb ran softly over your cheek, brushing away the dirt smeared across your skin. You could barely even feel his touch at this point, the exhaustion weighing you down to the point it barely registered. As your eyelids grew heavier, you felt a sudden shift— a pair of hands sliding beneath your back and knees right as you were lifted from the cold ground with ease. Your head lolled to the side, resting against his solid chest where the faint, steady thrum of his heartbeat felt like a soothing lullaby dragging you further to the edge of passing out,

"—the past never dies." was the last thing you heard before you felt yourself slip away into unconsciousness.

A/N- I rewrote this entiiiire thing! The original was so corny and bad i couldn't stand it. Hope you guys enjoyed and please stick around for more rewrites :D Also big thank you to my lovely friend for proofreading <3

[endeavourfiles]

Beautiful little reunion.

He’s alive!!

[vendetta-if]

With recent superhero movies like The Flash and Across the Spider-verse dealing with things like time travel and alternate univierses. I'm curious about what would happen if similar happened and the MC wound up encountering Viktor from the Dead Man Walking AU?

Oooh that's angsty 😰 It would be filled with a tearful and heartfelt reunion. For those who haven't read it, I have made the Dead Man Walking AU side story public a while back and you can read it here (Part 1) and here (Part 2). Also, I've compiled a list of all the publicly available side stories here 😀

Viktor from the Dead Man Walking AU is really a husk of the man he once was. He has become someone who's very bitter and cynical, and he won't stop at anything to make those who took his child away from him pay in the worst way possible. The only reason he's still alive is out of pure spite; there's no way he's going to die as long as the killer is still alive.

So, yeah MC would be in for a bit of a surprise to see just how different their dad is from the one they know and remember. But Viktor would be even more surprised to see his kid all grown up now. He would definitely break down and cry while hugging MC tightly, not wanting to let go.

MC would tell him everything that has been going on in their life and for the first time in years, Viktor genuinely smiles--even though it's a wistful one. At least, he feels something other than the numbing pain, hatred, and anger. Rather than telling MC what he has been up to all these years, he would rather ask more about MC and what they like and stuff, whether they still love the same ice-cream flavour, and he would carve all those little details all his heart.

Funnily enough, meeting Viktor would end up being a good thing overall for MC and Luka and Grandpa from the current Vendetta universe. Hypocritically, Viktor would make the three of them promise to stop their foolish endeavour to avenge him, saying he never wanted or expected it from them. He would tell them to live their lives to the fullest and he would also make sure Luka knows that he's not at fault at all.

Basically, he would tie up all emotional loose ends that his alternate self had tragically left, and yes, even with Grandpa as well. As much as they had beef, they still care for each other. I think that will help MC, Luka, and Grandpa heal once Viktor returns to his own universe.

But for Viktor, once he returns to his own universe, that encounter just makes him sadder, angrier, and more spiteful. How could one not when he has seen what he could've had, what could've been? While MC and Luka can continue with their lives, for Viktor, MC was his future and everything... There is no moving on for him, only more burning desire to avenge his kid. And once he somehow manages that... Honestly, he has not expected to go that far.

[athenaareia]

For years, Odysseus had thought about how he would greet her. What he would tell her, and later, how he would even explain himself to her. Yet, now, as she stood in front of him – not close enough – he did not know what to say. Before, they had never needed words as much. Their minds were as one, a glance, a simple action, it would be enough. Would it be the same even now? OR: "i've got one endeavour, there's a girl i have to see." OR: odypen reunion in Would You Fall in Love with Me Again, as i imagine it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61753834

WHY. CAN'T. I. ADD. THIS. LINK. PROPERLY. (i'll try again with the incorrect quotes post?)

[medra-gonbites]

Of Conversations and their Interruptions

A one shot chapter for @bloodweaveweek 2O24

Day 6 | Reunion

Word Count: 1157

SFW - Pining, Comfort, Comedy

Gale was nervous.

Since his return to Waterdeep a couple of months ago, he had not had the chance to see or talk to the majority of his former traveling companions. He had had the very brief visit from Shadowheart awhile back, as the cleric’s adventures had taken her to the City of Splendour. But safe for the Selûnites he had not heard from any of them. He was surprised to discover very soon after their separation that he missed them. 

One of them, he missed dearly.

He had thought about him constantly since they had abruptly parted ways after the fall of the Brain. How he regretted not having the courage to confess his affection earlier. How he wished he had invited him back to Waterdeep to make a life of his own there. How he had hoped to see him again and hopefully open up about his feelings. 

Such a night had come, thanks to Withers and now all of them were reunited for the first time in six months. Gale was restless. He tried his best to not let it show. He had spent hours picking an outfit for the evening. And he was still unsure about the garments he chose to wear.

He arrived a bit later than everyone else. As he began to greet his companions, his breath caught in his throat when he saw the silver curls and red eyes he had longed to see again. Astarion was laughing, talking enthusiastically to Karlach when he caught the wizard’s eyes from the opposite side of camp. The vampire waved at him, a timid smile stretching the corner of his lips. 

Gale did not want to interrupt. Or he was too afraid to approach him. Either way he thought it was polite to wait for Karlach to depart before making his way towards him. He started a conversation with Minsc (and his… date?) darting weary eyes in the direction of the spawn checking in on him from time to time and patiently waiting for his discussion with the Tiefling to end. 

After a while Minsc was still rambling about his (questionable) methods of rehabilitation, Gale saw Karlach walk towards the buffet.

"Finally!" he thought to himself.

He tried to politely walk away from Minsc but he could not manage to say a word as the latter was singing the praise of each and every member of their old gang. Gale decided to slowly back away, suspecting Minsc would not notice, too focused on his own tale. 

A few small and subtle shuffling steps and Gale had successfully slipped away from the giant and his hamster. He decisively walked across camp towards the person he wanted to talk to the most but before he could reach the elf, Wyll had already joined his side and was squeezing him into a hug.

The night went on like this: every time Astarion seemed to end a talk with someone, another would take their place. He was rather popular amongst their friends… Gale decided to wait it out. Maybe Astarion would reach out to him eventually when all his suitors would have finished paying their hommages.

----------------------------------------------------------

The evening had dragged on and still there were no words of the vampire. Gale was feeling his patience falter but the more he waited the less courage he had in his endeavour. In waiting for his turn to come he had indulged in “liquid courage” as Shadowheart called it. 

As he refilled his glass for the tenth (maybe eleventh) time, he heard a familiar voice behind him and his stomach dropped. 

“Are you avoiding me or just trying to drown yourself?”

Gale turned around and the sight he beheld had him almost choke. Astarion was as gorgeous as ever, but he was not expecting him to be already standing so close. Gale coughed and wheezed, as his wine poured down the wrong pipe, in front of the amused, albeit worried, spawn.

“Apologies. I… I understand you were busy with other people and… Didn’t want to interrupt.”

Another fit of cough shook Gale’s shoulders. Astarion slapped his back, gently. Once Gale could retrieve his breath the slap had become a soft stroke. The wizard shivered.

“I am glad you came to find me.” He added shyly.

“Of course… You know you always were one of my favorites…”

This statement was music to Gale’s ears at first although a little bit disconcerting. He was used to Astarion being flirty but that felt different somehow.

“I hear things have been going well for you?” Astarion asked.

“Yes, back in Waterdeep. Tenure at Blackstaff Academy. Orb-free.” Gale answered enthusiastically at first before showing reserve, “Although… Despite how quiet and calm my routine has grown I sometimes miss our days of adventuring. It can get lonely in my tower.”

“I thought you shared it with your cat.” 

“Tressym!” Gale corrected abruptly.

Astarion smiled maliciously. He knew damn well what Tara was, but he also knew how to push Gale’s buttons.

“Well loneliness is not something I am struggling with. We are running a city of spawns down in the Underdark. It’s far from an utopia there, but at least we have some structure…”

Astarion sighed. Despite the well groomed and attired look of the vampire, Gale could see the signs of tiredness on his face. 

“I suffer from loneliness. You, from an excess of company. Maybe we should switch life.” He chuckled.

Astarion gazed at him, his eyes unblinking and fixated on the mage’s neck. Was he hungry?

“I wanted to talk to you about something…” The elf finally said.

Before he could continue Minsc came behind him and wrapped a strong muscular arm around his shoulders. The colossus closed his big fists on the vampire's arm with a loud thud. 

“Gale! You will forgive Minsc for stealing your beloved spawn but his good friend Apie really needs to meet him. He is willpower incarnate and the best rehabilitation example one could dream of!”

Gale stood there, jaw hanging open as Astarion was swept away by the ranger. Before they both turned away fully Astarion called out to Gale.

“Don’t go anywhere wizard! I’m not done with you!”

Gale giggled and put his glass down. Maybe the confession he had dreaded making would prove easier in the end. Or maybe he wouldn’t have to make it at all. 

He looked up at the sky. The stars were shining like sequins on a dark velvet drape. Was that place always so stellar or was he too worried about other things to notice back then? It mattered not. Tonight it was beautiful.

Gale took a deep breath, taking in the smells around him: the wild flowers blooming, the gentle stream flowing nearby and the table covered in tantalizing goods and wines exuding odours of a feast for heroes. He grew confident. 

The night was young and he couldn’t wait to be reunited with Astarion once more.

[too-antigonish]

This is the Fred Thursday Endeavour prequel I dream about...

Sure 1960s Oxford had a lot to work with, but it’s got nothing on post-war London.

Picture it: The whole country is in the midst of social upheaval. Men are returning home after years away. They’re dealing with massive trauma and having difficulty readjusting to civilian life. Their families have spent years learning to live without them. The reunions don’t always go well. 

Constant shortages have led to thriving black markets and a rise in organized crime. A huge influx of working-age men leaves many unemployed and vulnerable to the worst temptations.

Neighborhoods, especially in the East End, are still littered with the rubble of the Blitz. Evidence of destruction is a daily fact of life and death is still a presence. Children playing in the ruins encounter unexploded ordnance on a tragically regular basis. 

Into all of this walks a young Fred Thursday....

As a soldier he saw brutal action in North Africa and worked with the partisans in Italy.  He had a passionate affair with a woman he now believes to be dead. The rest of his wartime service remains a mystery to us.

Now he’s back near where he grew up—one of three brothers in Mile End. Billy didn’t make it back from the war. Charlie is now running the family’s warehouse business—and dating some girl named Paulette.

He’s been reunited with his wife Win (he doesn’t tell her about the affair) and is just learning what it’s like to be a father to Joan. The three of them are living with Win’s parents over the ironmongers and it’s not easy rubbing along together, not with so many people in tight quarters.

Fred is trying readjust to civilian life, making the shift from soldier to the policeman he once was. The lines blur easily in the brutal world of the East End but Sergeant Vimes, his governor at Cable Street,  does his best to keep him on the straight and narrow.

Those are just the basics of Fred's story from canon! I look at it and ideas for episodes just start spinning out in my head. It would be such an amazing series!

And then...

Eventually Fred moves up, takes young Mickey Carter under his wing—and makes the mistake of going after Vic Kasper. When Carter gets himself killed and is then falsely accused of having been on the take, Fred has to get his family out. He takes Win, Joan, and now Sam, and leaves everything and everyone they’ve ever known. 

Oxford is a whole new world. The kids have never seen so much green. The house is bigger than they ever could have imagined. His new boss, DCS Crisp, seems nice enough...

Ahh! If I weren't horrible at imagining casting I'd already have a list!

And then I think, maybe the whole thing’s got a framing device. Maybe the older Thursday from Endeavour, from wherever he sits in exile, is writing this all down. He’s recording these stories of what it was like when he was a young copper.

I’d like to think that in the end he puts it all together to send to Endeavour (not Morse, but specifically Endeavour) as a sort of memorandum of understanding. He's telling him, "I saw what made you into you. Now I'm telling you: here's what made me into me."

Happy Thursday Thursday!

[jessieren]

And another pic of the cast from earlier today

Looks like Roger has started working on Churchill in Moscow at the Orange Tree

[toomanytookas]

One of our patrons swears this little fella escaped from your pocket as you left the coffee house this week.

We're named him Mortimer and he's living with Marcus for now, but you'll want to reclaim him before they move off to Washington to start a new life.

Firstly, Megan, how on Earth did you guess his name? Did he talk to you? I can never get him to speak!!!

I think what unfortunately has happened is that I have spent far too much time reading meet cutes with my screen within Mortimer’s eyeshot and he’s endeavoured to make one happen, that silly romantic fuzzball.

You know the kind…

Character A — we’ll call him Marcus (of course no relation to this Marcus we’re just using the name because it’s cute 👀) —finds character B’s beloved pet ambling about his place of work. He gets no response to his FOUND: WITCHY HAMSTER NAMED MORTIMER posters (suddenly it is absolutely impossible to suggest this is a generic plot description…). Out of the goodness of his heart, Marcus invites Morty to live with him, starts to really feel like the darling fluff is a deeply wonderful and important part of his life and happiness…

But wait! Just as it seems that everything has settled into a new routine, B and Marcus meet! Perhaps B’s returned for another fantastic piloncillo latte at this fine establishment of yours and spots Morty riding around in Marcus’s apron (somehow it’s been cleared for health code purposes). There are reunion tears, human bonding over shared love of that silly hamster, a bit of flirting, and then before you know it it’s been hours, the cafe’s cleared out, and all that’s left is for Mortimer’s two favorite people in this whole wide world to take the next step that will mean his adventures in real world matchmaking were a smashing success.

Oh, Marcus, of course we can make arrangements so Mortimer can get to see you as often as you’d like. He’ll miss you ever so much. You’d be welcome to visit our soft, squeaky friend anytime. Day or night. Would you believe it, my bed is also soft and squeaky… perhaps you might like to make its acquaintance? I also have some incredibly wonderful snacks, do you think you’d like to come over and stuff them into your cheeks after we take a never ending run on a spinning disk or perhaps share a drink from that giant bottle on the wall with the metal straw in it?

Okay, maybe the hamster is also adding a bit of his own understanding of what dating looks like at the end there… but I’ve gotta admit the rest of it sounds pretty dang cute. DC, you say? I do hear it’s quite a lovely city…

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Stupid ass thought born after seeing to many fanarts without Iida in them for DekuSquad but Bakugou is in them:

Tenya is busy running his family’s agency so he’s often not involved with his friends who are busy making names for themselves. Izuku, Ochako, Tsu and Shouto plan to join Tenya at his agency once they have their own footing as heroes.

Until then though they don’t get to meet up as much. Which is where Bakugou comes in, sort of. He’s around Izuku and Shouto often as they all ended up working for Endeavour as sidekicks solely cause it was easier after the war. The media often takes pictures of all three and the narrative offered is that they’re close friends.

Spoiler: they’re not. Sure Izuku holds no grudge against Bakugou and considers their past water under the bridge but Bakugou is still an abrasive person who yells all the time. He still insults people and flies off the handle. It’s not fun to be around so Izuku usually chooses to hang out with his actual friends off duty.

If only Bakugou didn’t tend to show up at their hang outs. Izuku would admit it’s not uncommon since they have similar interests but god can’t he go for a drink with Ochako without the blond man showing up?

The media has been selling the idea that Bakugou and Izuku are the wonder duo for years and while Izuku always turns that down stating they are not a duo, it’s the narrative pushed forward. It doesn’t help that Bakugou actually is invested in having it continue.

Time has not been kind to him, with only Endeavour interested in hiring the man, wanting to ‘redeem’ the blonde like Endeavour was. (False he was never redeemed but they just couldn’t get rid of him right then and after the public would have broken) Bakugou is invested in keeping the narrative alive because it’s his only way at a shot for the top of heroics. He knows this and hates it. But hey, Deku is still around and the fucker thinks they’re friends. Bakugou can work with this right?

Only he can’t because Izuku announces he’s leaving Hellfire to work with IidaTen once he’s more settled. ‘And my friends are joining me, so it’s a Swuad reunion’ he laughs at the press conference.

“So you, Equilibrium, Uravity, Froppy, Dynamight-“

“No, Dynamight isn’t joining us.”

“You said your friends?”

“He’s my coworker. He’s not my friend.”

And just… the media fallout. People scourging up pictures and analyzing them. ‘Wait you can see the annoyance’ ‘He isn’t dressed like they are. Did he crash this?’ ‘I think those two were on a date…’

Bakugou has to watch the guy he tormented and then relied on leave. He’s mature enough he admits he has no right being ashamed. Mature enough he can wish Izuku well.

But he’s still a little angry at it. And while he tries to rise high, he figures it’s fitting he ends up only ever reaching the top hundred of heroics. He’s a good hero, and he’s come a long way.

He just lost the only thing sort of a friend he had. Kirishima and the others dropped him when they couldn’t stand his behaviour anymore. To many times purposely causing Kaminari to short circuit. Annoyance at him treating them like extras. Kirishima finally getting tired of the constant belittlement.

Bakugou does eventually reconnect with Kirishima later on. Once he’s had more time to settle after Izuku left for greener pastures. They become friends. Maybe more.

But Izuku? Izuku flourishes. He and his friends take IidaTen to the top of the agencies and they all end up becoming a giant poly mess who love each other dearly. He’s happy, thriving and is in his dream job.

He still is friends with the others in his class to, and they meet up. Even Bakugou comes to them once he reconnects with Kirishima. It’s nice to see the guy more mellow, but Izuku doesn’t think about him that much.

He’s to busy living.

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 6. Out Of Care [C2]

Pairing: Turpin x fem!Reader

POV: Second, Reader & Third, Turpin

Setting: Turpin’s house

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Sharing

A/N: And we're back to our dear Judge Turpin this Wednesday! 😍👏 I'm honestly super excited about this story and feel my creativity brewing and bubbling like crazy this December - all the stories have me aching to write more 😂👏

Anyway, I'm hoping you're all in good spirits, that December is treating you nicely (kicking it in the tush if not) and that you're feeling ready for more Rickman content! 🥰❤ (Reminder, the Turpin serial for Rickmas2023 will get darker before we get the HEA)

Tags/TW’s: Regrett, Worry, Wanting Forgiveness, Reunion, Returning Home, Half-Admitting Feelings [Love, Fear, Hurt, Want], Changing For Another, Admitting To Wrongfulness/Selfishness, Pillow Hugging, Slightly Smutty Thoughts

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 3.1k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

⩤• You •⩥

The echo of the door slamming shut, the memory of stumbling down the stairs, it was all so fresh in your mind. It nearly felt as if it had just happened, a mere second ago, yet it had been two days. Your husband had been gone for two days, after a fight you had never imagined ever having. His words, those cold accusatory truths, made you shiver. The remnants of the revelation of how selfish you had been, how single-mindedly you had been viewing Christmas, and the whole thought process behind decorating your home for the holiday.

You shivered and glared at the overly decorated tree, it ought to have caught fire with the intensity of your eyes — it did not, of course, burst into flames. “I did warn you, me Lady,” said Miss Lowel as she sat a tray of tea down on the table in the drawing room. “His Lordship does not take the holidays lightly, me Lady.” “You don’t say…” you murmured with a snark in your voice. “Could have been worse, me Lady. Could have put you out.” “Instead he abandoned our home. Me.” “Me Lady?” You looked toward her. “Does the lady… Do me Lady fancy his Lordship?” she asked timidly, her hands held tightly before her while a look of trepidation and something close to disgust flitted across her sweet features.

You sighed, averting your gaze to the hearth and the glowing embers within it. Is there a point in denying it any longer? If I didn’t, I wouldn’t feel so… sad… “Yes, Miss Lowel. I-, I do,” you said quietly. “I think… I think perhaps I may have come to like the man, a bit.” A lot… Miss Lowel smiled, but it was a forced sort of thing. “I see, me Lady.” “Not that it matters, the man could never feel a thing for me, I’m not sure he’s capable of feelings of a positive nature.” “Oh, I don’t know about that, me Lady. His Lordship is quite… different with you.” “Ha, funny, Miss Lowel, very funny,” you said dryly, reaching for the teacup. “He barely speaks a word to me, at dinner he does not so much as hold half a conversation with me, he always storms off to his study, to the court, away from me.” “His Lordship eats dinner at home, he quietly watches you speak, he offers space and no forced proximity, apart from insisting on sharing a bed but, if I may be so bold, I dare say there’s been no coercion inside the bedroom, me Lady?”

Your eyes bulged at her brazen words and forward manner. She spoke the truth though. So you nodded. “I dare say that is quite the change from the man I have served these past four years, me Lady.” “How so?” you asked while sipping your tea, endeavouring to not appear too hungry for information about the man who grasped your heart tighter with each passing day.

“Neither of the things I just mentioned would have been connected to His Lordship before your arrival miss. I do not think I’ve once served him dinner at home before ten in the evening before your arrival, me Lady, and even those times were rarities. This was not a place he remained for more time than necessary. And conversation within this house, no, that was not a possibility, yet you are given time to speak, not simply to reply to commands. Me Lord even listens, that is quite something, me Lady.”

You looked at her, wondering if she’d lost her mind — had too much eggnog perhaps? “That’s silly, Miss Lowel.” “Silly? His Lordship has changed with your arrival.” “I highly doubt it has anything to do with me, the man is brutal and cold. Unfeeling. I will not even attempt to pretend to possess any value for him beyond being his wife as the daughter of an upstanding and wealthy family. He seems to be a man completely out of care for anyone and anything, I am no different to him than any other person.” Miss Lowel bowed her head with a straight face. “If you say so, me Lady. I do not possess the frankness to contradict your words.” The maid left the room while your thoughts whispered, you just did.

***

The last piece of Christmas decore landed in the sack by your feet. The house was restored to its less festive state after a couple of hours of your hard work. It had taken longer to put it all up than take it down, down was easy, especially with a simmer of anger and hurt in your muscles which had forced you to move faster.

You wouldn’t admit to it, but you hoped he’d return and you’d be forgiven for what you’d unwittingly done. Your intentions had been good, but Richard’s view of it all had changed your perspective of your actions. He hadn’t been wrong, you hadn’t talked with him, asked him, or even thought of taking his input on decorating the house. But, how could you have known the man didn’t like Christmas?

He may hold no care for me, or anyone else in the world, but I can still care for him. Can I not? I can still change and do things out of care for him even if it’s not reciprocated. But you knew it would be a difficult task, loving and caring for someone who housed none of that love or care in return, but you were a stubborn person. Once you set your mind to something you refuse to back down or give up until you have enough evidence to show something was an impossibility. Perhaps that was why you had been used by people you believed to be your friends, even family, before?

You had dragged the sack back to the attic, locking the door again before heading toward the drawing room where you plopped down in a graceless heap on the sofa. Miss Lowel had stoked the fire recently it seemed so you soaked up the warmth by pointing your feet toward the hearth, watching the flames dance while your heart turned heavier.

You had no idea where Richard had gone, he had said he would not return until after Christmas to give you your holiday cheer but you had never felt as dreary or sad in December before. Especially now, with no holiday cheer to be found in your home. It felt utterly wrong, but the way Richard had reacted and how he had felt when seeing all the decorations you’d spent the entire day putting up had been worse. That you’d hurt him made you feel beyond heavy, no matter if it was on purpose or not. He’d been hurt, and you had for the first time gotten to hear of his emotions — how he saw it all.

“Sharing, as in taking the liberty to completely alter my one sanctuary without so much as a word with me beforehand? Sharing seems to be all, about, you,” he had seethed two days ago, for the first time truly sharing how he felt and it had hurt you deeply. Admittedly, in the moment, you had felt hurt yourself by his words but now, with some time to think of it all and look at it from his viewpoint, you felt horrible at having caused him harm.

What did he mean by his sanctuary? You didn’t quite understand that, he didn’t act as if his home was a sanctuary. Did he mean from the holiday? I mean, all of London is filled with Christmas cheer — carols, decorations, happier people, all the markets and — Your mind turned quiet as you understood what he’d meant.

Christmas was inescapable. One foot out the door and there was a carol floating on the wind, the smell of roasted chestnuts, someone ringing a bell for donations to the poor during the time a year of giving and gifting. The holiday was tangible everywhere, oppressively so if one disliked it… To give up the holiday wasn’t a possibility for you, though. You’d celebrate, but perhaps you didn’t need to do so in a way that reached or imposed itself on your husband — after all, Christmas wasn’t actually about the decorations, the songs, the food, or even the gifts. No, it was about a feeling, a sense of hope and joy, a warmth on the inside rather than sparkling surroundings.

You stood up, patting down your dress. “I can do that. But, how do I tell him I took it all down?” You nibbled your bottom lip, wondering if your husband was at court perhaps — it was Wednesday after all. “Should I even bother him? Can I go to him?” His angry features, his cold eyes, the harsh tone of his voice — it all told you you couldn’t. Richard was a man who made his own choices, took his own decisions, and as far as you knew he never went back on his word.

He had declared he’d be back after Christmas, perhaps all you had to do was wait for time to pass, respecting his choice? You’d already overstepped so greatly it felt as if seeking him out would only enrage him, perhaps forever close off the slightest possibility he’d ever grow close to you as you had grown to truly like him. You dared not think the feelings you had for the man were even deeper than that; if you admitted to it things would become far too hard to endure. You had had hope the feelings were mutual, the difference between the man you had heard of before wedding him and the man he was around you were far different from each other. 

You sighed and looked at the clock, it struck eleven and it was time to sleep. You moved through the silent house, halting by the guest room, a sense of lacking enveloped you as your fingers lingered on the knob. You glanced down the hall, toward the door leading into your shared bedroom. You missed him. Missed sleeping next to him, and as Miss Lowel had pointed out there had never been anything more than sleep happening in there since you moved in. He’d never forced you, never asked you, never even so much as changed in the same room. He’d respected you, and your privacy, only sharing a bed through sleep. Why it was like that you didn’t quite know, your husband had been known to take whores before your wedding but not once had you noticed such a thing happening after you became his wife.

Your face mushed against his pillow a few minutes later. You inhaled his distinct scent, a shiver slid down your back before you squeezed the feather-filled thing. You curled up in a ball for a moment under his cover, thinner than yours but comforting despite not fully keeping you warm. “I miss you,” you whispered and inhaled deeply, feeling yourself go heavy by the comfort of his scent.

⩤• Turpin •⩥

The wind tugged at the ends of his hair peeking out beneath his top hat. The house lay nearly dark, save for one single candle in the window of his bedroom. The bedroom he shared with you. There were differences to when he had stormed out of the house though. The curtains were changed back to their ordinary ones, there were no longer any decorations in the windows from what he could tell, empty as usual.

The cold had begun to slip inside his clothes, yet he remained on the sidewalk across the road — watching his house in a tense silence. For two days he had stewed over his reaction, his behaviour towards you when you had so obnoxiously obviously been exuberantly happy about decorating the house for Christmas. Everywhere his eyes had gone there had been reminders. Old decorations, from his time as a boy when joy was as far from Christmas as one could get despite the house being abysmally drenched in beautiful decorations looking to spark a sense of awe. All it ever meant for him were dread, loneliness, and pretending.

His family, rich and well-off as it was, had no real riches beyond money and status. His mother was a shell of a human, his father a devil of cruelty, his brother a demon of wickedness, and his sister… dead. The one who had been a joy, had died far too young, and what little love there had been in the mansion of a house went with her.

He shrugged, flexing his fingers within the leather gloves to bring some blood and warmth back to the tips. His eyes remained fixed on the dreary-looking house, darker than others along the street with not so much as a glimmer of a sparkle or flicker of an ornate lantern anywhere to be found. It had his jaw clenching as he thought of the sparkle that had been in your eyes before he’d snuffed it out with words of cruelty. Honest words, yet cruel in their harsh nature.

His spine stiffened as the curtain flickered in the bedroom. Mrs Lowel appeared, blowing out the candle, and given her timid motions he guessed you lay fast asleep in the bed he usually shared with you. Our bed, our home, my wife… My sweet wife… He drew a deep breath and marched towards the door on stiff legs while his mind ran rampant — wondering if you could forgive his outburst and rage, his words and behaviour. You were a joy in his dark life, and as he opened the door that very darkness seemed to glare at him.

All your work, all your thoughts, all your sparkling wonder; all of it was gone. He found not a single shred of tinsel, not even a lonesome garland remained as he removed his cloak and snow-covered boots, stepping into a pair of slippers while looking all around him at the utter lack of Christmas. That you listened and possibly respected him enough to remove it all made a warmth bloom in the pit of his stomach where a knot had formed over the whole situation. I usually do not care. I am not a caring man. I am not a man who cares for others’ emotions, yet, I find myself caring for yours most deeply. Disturbing business.

He moved up the stairs, his steps heavy yet quiet. His heart beat harder for each stride while his hand glided along the railing — partly for support as he felt himself waver at the possibility you may not be able to forgive him. Or, worse, you would possibly only do so with an explanation, a tale of his past he never wished to divulge.

He quietly opened the door, his body tense and his face set in a stoic mask as he struggled for the control he nearly always held a firm grasp of. When his eyes landed on your sleeping form, curled up on his side of the bed with his pillow held in a vice grip against your chest half buried under his cover, his heart stuttered and his body stiffened.

You were beautiful, angelic in your sleep, and he had to resist the urge exploding within his body as it had done every day since you became his wife. He yearned to touch each part of you, kiss each sliver of skin, caress each dip and mound, and explore every aspect of your body in its entirety. Months upon months had passed since he last took pleasure from another body. Ever since he vowed before God and congregation, before you, to be your faithful husband he had not touched or even looked at another woman. You were the only one for him, yet your innocence had proven a difficult thing to conquer. His own sins were like long shadows keeping him away, forcing him to wait for you to come to him willingly. He had tried, by God and Heaven, he had tried to be kind and caring, thoughtful and patient, yet you had not come to him still.

He stepped up to the bed, his eyes roaming your outline, and reached out his still-cold hand. His fingers graced your cheek, stroking away a tendril of hair so utterly soft to the touch he twirled it once between his fingers before letting go. “Sweet wife,” he whispered and just barely stopped himself from leaning in to kiss you. You stirred at his deep voice. “Richard?” you asked, your eyes blinking away the haze of sleep while he stood over you with nothing but his willpower to respect and be kind towards you keeping him in place while he watched your eyes clear — sleepy, to happy, to sad. It tore at his heart that your eyes no longer sparkled like last time he had come home.

“I took it down,” you whispered, your voice a meek sound. “I saw.” “Will you stay now?” He blinked at that, his brain addled with worry and an uncomfortable amount of desperation to hold you close. He was far too enchanted, in far too deep when it came to you. Not that he could verbally admit that. “I will,” he said, his voice a quiet drone while he attempted to keep himself in control. “Will you—” “I’ll move,” you said before he could ask for your forgiveness, and you shimmied out from his cover while laying his pillow in its proper place before situating yourself on your side of the bed. Not once did you expose any part of your nightdress-clad body — to his utter dismay and relief at the same time.

“I won’t look,” you whispered while turning around to face the window, giving him your back. He wished to turn you over again, make you watch him undress, make you see what you always did to his anatomy. But he did not. He watched the back of your head with growing agony and want, with a wish for forgiveness he could not quite bring himself to ask for now that his body burned with lust despite the cold sadness you emitted. I am a lesser man, thinking of ravaging you at a time like this. I will not yield to it, love. I vowed to myself you would be the one to come to me. If I so perish without ever having felt your warmth, it shall be so.

He slipped on his nightshirt and slunk in under the cover, keeping space between you both. The warmth you left behind, the wonderful scent now embedded on his side of the bed, made his entire body turn rigid. You were perfection, and now he may have ruined whatever chance he had so painstakingly long worked to gain. He drew a deep breath, your warmth and closeness offering relief of the acutest kind, and fell asleep in a matter of seconds. Too drained to remain in the moment, too comforted by your closeness to resist the relaxation. The knot in his stomach was ignored for the moment as dreams slipped in with nothing but you in them.

…To Be Continued…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Uffh, these two have me in such a grip - and their story isn't quite at the HEA yet 👀 I'm kinda itching to make Y/n a bit more fierce, after all, her emotions are running rampant and Richard isn't really in control of his emotional state either - they have a lot to figure out between themselves and perhaps we ought to throw in another curveball or two to really make them argue (or perhaps bang) it out? 🤔🤭❤

Q: Do you have any tradition of your own around this time of year that you always keep? A: I have a few, one of my longest-running ones is being the one to put up and decorate the Christmas tree (the first weekend of December since I moved out of my childhood home). I've been in charge of doing the tree since I was a teenager and I've always loved it 🥰🎄✨

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[Dec:2023]

[possessingtheproperspirit]

Surprise self-rec time! Pick 3 of your favorite things you’ve written and share them here, then put this in the inbox (anonymously or not) of your fellow writers to spread the positivity and help celebrate already written fics.

Thanks lovely Kelsey!! 🥰 I am endeavouring to be positive and all that so here we go…

Murder on the Dance Floor - a Strictly jily au which was a lot of fun to write. Pro-dancer Lily seems to dislike her new dancing partner; will she reveal why? Will James be any good at ballroom? And will Sirius flirt his way into Claudia Winkleman’s heart?

Here You Come Again - a jily canon au where they didn’t get together at school, and now it’s time for the reunion. Mary has a lot of thoughts and feelings about Sirius and how good-looking he still is; Lily is certain that her long-held crush on James is written all over her face. A recipe for a fun evening.

and The Price We Pay - a jily/wolfstar multi-chapter canon monstrosity because I wanted to write about the aftermath of the prank, and how if it were me, I’d really fucking struggle to forgive someone who was meant to be my friend, and I also wanted to write how James and Lily got from the lake incident to being love’s young dream, and now somehow it’s turned into 30 chapters and counting.