#especially when it’s dark or rainy and their lights are blinding me

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter fourteen ⭐︎ Somewhere in these eyes, I'm on your side.

Warnings: fluff, lots and lots fluff, just a teeny tiny bit of angst, just a bunch of tooth rooting sweetness

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: On a rainy Thursday, something shifts between you and Steve, something you can not see yet, while Steve gets lost in a glimpse of the future he could feel on this day.

Word count: 9k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me as always, roe. especially with the last bit, you're the bestest ♡ Steve's shower scene was fully written by her so give her some loveeee

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

The rain paddles against your windows softly, the sun is hidden behind the heavy dark clouds, and the light wind rustles the trees outside. You didn’t close the blinds last night, but it doesn’t matter anyways, it’s dark and gloomy outside. 

The soft covers touch your bare skin, the smell of cologne is heavy in the air, along with the smell of sex that still lingers after the previous night. 

The weight of his arm keeps you in place, keeps you close, he is making your heart flutter in this early morning hour already. 

He is facing you, just as you are facing him. His palm rests on your lower back, his legs tangled with yours underneath the sheets. He pulls you closer when you try to move, tightening his hold on you, but he is still so fast asleep. His lashes look so much longer when his eyes are closed, his features are completely relaxed, he is breathing softly, his heart beats against your palm as you keep your hand close to it. 

You eye the moles on his skin and the scars on his body. 

Your hands always itch to touch him, to graze his skin with the tips of your fingers, and you can do so when he’s fast asleep and unaware of your loving touches. 

You raise your hand up to his face, pushing away the curl that hangs loosely over his forehead. Your touch is light as a feather as you trace the bridge of his nose, and his cheek, before you return your hand back to his chest, freezing when a sigh falls from his lips and he stirs in his sleep, pulling you tighter against him in the process before he sinks deeper into the pillows, eyes still shut and heart still beating softly. 

You breathe out and relax when he continues sleeping deeply. 

You don’t want to get caught admiring him, and touching him like this, when only a few days ago, you feared that you would lose him after Eddie confronted you both. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night. 

His words cut deep, and the fear of losing him added to the hurt. You weren’t ready to lose this, you weren’t ready to lose him, and you thought that you were so very close to it until he showed up the next morning, and asked if things would stay the same between you and him now that someone found out.

The weight that stayed on your shoulders nearly crushed you, but he took it off you, and without realizing that he did, he took some of your worries too, just not the pain, and the mark he left on your heart with a few simple words. But it didn’t matter, because kissing him and feeling his touch again, was all that mattered, to know that it wasn’t over just yet… that mattered. 

You can hide the sadness and the pain when he holds you like this, you can even forget about it… momentarily. 

You forgot about it last night, when he kissed your neck and he marked your skin, when he unraveled you with his tongue and the touch of his hands, when he split you open and kissed you like you were his, when he looked into your eyes and he held your wrist as the tips of his fingers touched your palm, like he wanted to entwine them with yours and feel you closer and closer as you were chest to chest and his lips moved with yours like none have ever did before. 

Shivers run down your spine, and butterflies dance in your stomach when the sound of his voice calling out your name echoes in your mind. 

You might not be the one for him. And you know that there might be others, but you don’t even want to let your mind go there, just the mere thought of it, fills you with nausea. He keeps coming back to you, that’s what matters the most to you. You know that you can give him so much more than anyone else ever could. If only he let you. If only there was a chance. 

You nearly jump from the bed when the ringing of the doorbell pulls you out of your thoughts, and it echoes through the quiet house. 

Your eyes widen, and your heart starts pounding as panic settles deep in your chest. You stare at Steve, who is peacefully asleep, still. 

You flinch at the second ringing. 

“Fuck,” you whisper when you remember the burgundy car in your driveway. There is no reason for Steve to be at your place so early in the morning. There is no believable explanation either, what will you say to whoever it is on the other side of the door?

If this is one of your friends, you are screwed, so screwed. 

You know, as a matter of fact, that it isn’t Eddie – he wouldn’t show up this early unless it was an emergency, and even then, he’d be in your room by now. 

“Steve,” you whisper, trying to shake him awake, but he only grumbles in his sleep and hides his face further into the pillows. 

You sigh. 

You push his arm off and escape his embrace. You throw the covers off, and jump up from your bed, standing in only your underwear for a moment as you search for your clothes, you reach for his shirt instead and throw it on, before you rush out of the room, trying to fix your messy hair as you run down the stairs. 

You don’t have much time to come up with lies and excuses as to why Steve’s car is in your driveway, whoever it is on the other side of the door, is getting a little impatient. 

“I’m coming,” you grumble and unlock the front door before you rip it open, holding your breath. 

“Finally!” 

You sigh out in relief, rolling your eyes at your own panic. You step aside and open the door a little wider. 

“What took you so long?” Your sister murmurs as she steps inside and brushes past you. She is carrying a bag in one hand and the bright pink baby carrier your baby niece is currently sleeping in. 

All your annoyance leaves your body right this second, your eyes soften and a smile appears on your face. 

“Hello to you too, Twinkie.” 

She rolls her eyes at your nickname but pulls you in for a side hug after dropping the bag on the ground. 

“Give me her,” you smile as you take the carrier from her arm, and carry it into the living room, smiling as you eye the little features of the baby girl. You put the carrier down on the couch. “Hi Francine,” you whisper, gently tapping her tiny nose. “She’s so big already!” 

Your sister laughs as she follows you into the living room after kicking off her shoes, “you’ve seen her last week, I don’t think she grew much.” 

“She kind of did,” you whisper, taking Francine’s tiny hand. “They grow so fast.”

Your sister walks over to the window, peeking outside, she clears her throat, “do I wanna know whose car that is?” 

You glance over your shoulder and swallow nervously. 

You’re glad that her memory is awful. 

Everyone knows who is driving the burgundy BMW, and your sister still lived in Hawkins when he got it. She should know who it belongs to.

Her lips curl into a smirk, and she wiggles her brows, “casual hook up, or… is it something serious?” 

You know that she has been waiting for this day. 

It is something serious, to you. 

It is something serious when he holds you closely and kisses you softly, when his eyes soften and his lips curl into a smile at the sight of you. 

It is something serious when your heart flutters every time his knuckles brush against yours. 

It is something serious when you fall asleep in his arms and wake up in the very same spot. 

It is something serious when you keep falling and falling with no end in sight. 

Will you ever stop falling in love with him? 

Will there ever be a moment where your feelings and your love will stop at one level, or will you continue falling harder every passing moment? 

Your sister raises her eyebrows, lips curling into an even bigger smile, when she notices the flustered look on your face, the dreamy look in your eyes. 

“Something serious, huh?” 

You blink. 

Staring at her, with your cheeks now feeling warm… way too warm, you shake your head quickly. 

“N-No.” 

You curse inwardly, for giving yourself away so easily with your stuttering and your blushing. That’s not how you ever reacted before when she mentioned any of your hookups. 

She grins at you, wiggling her eyebrows, “mhm sure, Daisy.” 

You roll your eyes at her teasing glances, but the nickname makes you smile. 

Out of all the flowers, your mom loved Daisies the most, she would put the dainty flowers in your braids, and behind your ear whenever you were out in the garden. You would pick them for her and make little bouquets to surprise her with. 

She always called you her little Daisy. 

Your sister picked up on that nickname, though she used it to mock you at first when she went through a weird phase of hating flowers – which is really ironic considering the flower shop she ended up working at when she moved to the city.

She could’ve given you another nickname, something silly – something like the name you gave to her, but she spared you, luckily. 

“Shut up, Twinkie,” you mumble, as you look back at your niece, who is beginning to stir in her sleep, her long lashes fluttering as small noises escape her mouth. “As happy as I am to see this little bean, why are you here at uh,” you pause, turning your head to look at the clock on the wall, “ten in the morning?” You ask. 

She makes her way over to you, a sweet smile appearing on her face, as she gives you her best puppy eyes. 

“I was hoping that you could look after Francine?” She asks, still smiling. “Lisa is getting married soon, and she asked me to go wedding dress shopping with her, I can’t take her, we’ll probably be out all day, and I can’t wait for Ethan to get home, his shift won’t end before–”

“It’s fine, I’ll look after her,” you interrupt her, despite the slight nervousness that rises up in you. 

You have no experience with babies at all, you have given her the bottle, you even changed her diaper, but your sister was around, and you didn’t spend the whole day alone with her. 

She sighs in relief, she puts her hand on your shoulder, “oh thank you!”

“Don’t mention it, I’d never say no to hanging out with my favorite girl.” 

“You need to spend more time with her anyways, you coming once a week isn’t enough!” 

You frown at your sister, “you’re the one who moved away!” 

She waves her hand at you, walking around the couch, she walks over to the carrier, “she always does that little scrunch with her nose before she wakes up.” 

You smile, watching as she leans in to place a gentle kiss to her daughter’s cheek. 

“Okay,” she whispers, pulling back to look at you, “I put everything into the bag, diapers, bottles, formula, a change of clothes in case her diapers leak, and uh… pacifiers. And uh, you know if she cries just lie down with her and put her on your chest, she loves cuddles.” 

You nod, “yeah, I know, I haven’t forgotten. I got this.”

“Yeah you do, Daisy. And if you need help, just call Eddie–”

“Are you kidding?” You laugh, shaking your head as amusement flashes in your eyes. 

Eddie and Max were there, the last time your sister showed up with her husband and little Francine. 

While the redhead was rather excited to hold the little girl, Eddie felt too afraid to even touch her, and he nearly gagged when Max chased him with a dirty diaper. 

“He looked at her like he was scared of her!” 

Your sister laughs, “yeah, right. Okay, so not Eddie then, I’m sure Max would love to help though, or maybe someone else – but I’ll get going now, I promise, I’ll make it up to you, you got this, Daisy.” She smiles, ruffling your hair, she leans down to look at her daughter one more time, “bye bug, I’ll see you soon,” she whispers and squeezes her tiny foot before she steps away. “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you later, Twinkie.” 

The moment the front door is slammed shut, you let out a long sigh, and throw your head back against the pillows on your couch. You bring your hand up to your face and pinch the bridge of your nose. 

You are still tired, and it seems as though Steve is still sleeping soundly. 

You want nothing more than to return back to bed and sink into your pillows again. 

You definitely won’t get any sleep now, but you still get up and slowly lift the baby carrier, hoping that the movement won’t wake her up. You try to be careful as you make your way out of the living room and up the stairs. 

When you walk into your room, you find Steve now laying on his stomach, his face buried in your pillow. The sheets are low on his body, his whole back is exposed. 

The tiny cooing sounds from inside the carrier, cause your lips to curl into a big smile. You place it down on your carpet, and kneel down, giggling when you’re met by her big eyes. She starts wiggling around when she sees you. 

“Hi little angel,” you whisper, and lean closer to unfasten the safety belts, before you lift her up from the carrier, placing your right hand behind her head, you pull her into your chest, her hand instantly reaches for your hair, clasping her tiny fingers around it, she makes you laugh when she starts pulling it, making happy noises while she does so. 

You sit down on your bed, and lift your legs up, scooting back until you’re resting against the pillows behind you. You pull the covers over your lower body. 

A small squeal leaves her mouth.

“Shh, someone’s sleeping,” you whisper, tapping her little nose, glancing at Steve who is starting to stir in his sleep. 

You place her on your lap, and giggle at the cuteness as she stretches her little legs out. “That’s a cute onesie,” you whisper, rubbing her belly, “I bet you picked that yourself didn’t you? Pink is a pretty color on you, princess.” 

She babbles and wiggles around as she stares at you with her big eyes. 

Your voice, and the small coos pull Steve out of his deep sleep, his mind is still in a haze, his eyes still closed. 

“Da da da.” 

Your giggle follows the tiny voice. 

Steve scrunches his brows together, gripping the pillow underneath him, he slowly opens his eyes and looks at your side of the bed, his lips part and his eyes widen completely, something in his chest stirs strongly as he stares at the sight in front of him. 

He is still sleeping. 

He is still dreaming. 

A smile is resting on your face, eyes lightened up as you entertain the little baby girl on your lap, a pink bow around her head, big eyes resembling your own as she stares at you with a smile on her face, her hair color is the same as yours. 

Steve swallows the lump that grew in his throat, warmth settles in his chest, surrounding his heart and filling it with something, with adoration. 

His eyes soften when you lean down to kiss her forehead, squishing her tiny cheeks. 

“You’re the prettiest girl, Francis,” you whisper, using her nickname. 

His lips curl into a smile, despite the confusion that still lingers in his features. 

This is surely one of his dreams, he is convinced of it, why else would he wake up beside you, and a baby who looks like you?

But when you turn to face him, and the little girl follows your movement, looking at him with wide eyes, he isn’t so sure anymore. 

He blinks, watching as you reach for Francis’s little arm, waving her tiny hand at him, “say hi Steve.” 

The little girl babbles even louder, making a grabby hand at him. 

Steve smiles at her, raising his hand up, he waves at her.

You can’t help but laugh at the lost and confused look on his face, his brows are pulled together, his lips parted as he looks between you and your niece. 

He turns around on his back, and pushes himself so he’s leaning against your headboard, adjusting the cover, he pulls it up higher. He looks around the room, before his eyes return to the two of you, he runs his fingers through his messy hair, eyes flickering back and forth.

Your lips tug into a smirk, you can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing right now. 

You look at him, as you pull your niece closer, holding her up, you press her against your chest, “can you believe that we made a baby overnight?” 

You almost burst into laughter when his brown eyes widened with pure shock, and he choked a little. 

He blinks, shaking his head, “I know I just woke up, and I’m still sleepy… but… I still kind of remember biology.” 

Francine makes another grabby hand at him, “ma ma.”

“I dunno, but I’m pretty sure she just called you mama.”

Steve’s cheeks heat up, and he turns away from you, looking around your room again before his eyes catch the picture on your nightstand, the one of you and your sister. Oh. 

“Ah… Your niece,” Steve murmurs as he looks back at the two of you. 

“Good morning, Harrington,” you giggle. Francine copies your giggle, and Steve can’t help but smile. “Oh you like that name, huh? It’s funny isn’t it? Harrington.” Her little eyes crinkle, and she starts babbling with a laugh. Steve keeps her eyes on her, smiling at the little girl.

“That’s Francine,” you smile, introducing your niece to him. 

Steve lifts his hand up, waving his fingers at her, “hi Francine, I’m Steve.” 

She squirms in your arms, making happy noises as she blinks at him. Steve chuckles, he scoots closer to you, and he lifts his hand, and touches her tiny one. Francine wraps her hand around his finger, gripping it tightly, making his smile even bigger. 

“Is your sister here?” He asks, without looking away from the little girl. 

You shake your head, “no, she asked me to babysit today. So uh… I’ll be busy with my girl here today.” 

The urge to stay here with you, and this cute little mini you, feels so strong. 

“Want me to help?” Steve asks. 

You’re a little stunned by his question, and can only stare in surprise. 

“Huh?” 

“I mean, I don’t mind staying to help,” Steve shrugs, glancing at you for a second before he gives his attention back to Francine, who stares at him in awe.

The thought of spending a whole day with Steve, taking care of a baby with him, sounds like heaven. 

The only reason why he’s ever even around you without the group is because of sex, and that only. You don’t meet up just to watch movies, cook together or anything else, you only meet up for one thing, that’s all. 

The fact that he is willing to just spend time with you, without expecting anything to happen baffles you a little. 

“I-I… Do you really want to stay?” 

He nods. 

“Not much of a choice, to be honest,” he murmurs with a fond smile on his face as he gestures to your niece who is still holding his finger tightly. 

“O-Okay,” you whisper, shakily as nervousness and excitement rise up in you. 

“She’s so adorable,” Steve whispers, chuckling when Francine babbles at him, “she looks like you.” 

You smile before you realize what he just said, and heat rushes to your cheeks. 

She’s so adorable, she looks like you.

“I-I uh,” you stutter, trying to keep your cool, “so you’re gonna stay then?”

“Yeah, I’d love to hang out with Blondie and mini Blondie over here,” he chuckles as he taps her nose. 

Your heart could burst right then and there, your cheeks feeling incredibly hot the longer you sit here and stare at him. 

“Cool,” you say with a small voice as you suddenly feel the need to escape for a moment, “would you mind looking after her for a moment then? I wanna take a quick shower or else I’ll walk around looking like a bum all day.” 

Steve turns to look at you, he takes in the sight of your messy hair, and the shirt on your body, only now noticing that it’s his. His insides tingle, and his lips curl into a smile. 

You look like a cute bum. He almost blurts out, but bites his tongue. 

“Sure, go ahead, me and Francine are just gonna hang out, right?” 

She squeals in response, making jumpy movements. 

You both laugh at her. 

You lay her down beside him, and tickle her belly, giggling when she starts kicking her feet, “alright, I’ll be right back, angel.” 

Steve doesn’t even notice how big his smile is, how soft his eyes are as he stares at you, how warm the feeling in his chest is. 

“She might roll over on her belly, and if she gets a little fuzzy just pick her up, she loves snuggles. I’m gonna be quick.” 

Steve scoots closer to Francine, leaning his elbow on the pillow, he rests his head against his palm, and glances at you, “it’s fine, take your time, I’m just gonna chat with her.” 

Francine is still kicking her feet and waving around with her little arms.

“Oh yeah, she’s very talkative,” you giggle, and get up from the bed, you walk over to your dresser and pick out some clothes to change into. As much as you would love to wear his shirt all day, he needs it himself – although, you wouldn’t mind him walking around shirtless. 

Once you get everything you need, you turn back to take a look at them, and you nearly melt into a puddle when you see the way she is still clutching his finger, kicking her legs and babbling something to him, while he watches her with a smile on his face. 

“O-Okay, I’ll be right back.” 

You leave the room in a haste, but Steve doesn’t even notice, too busy staring at little Francine. He adores the resemblance of you, and the color of her eyes that matches yours, she truly looks like you. 

Steve can’t remember the last time he saw or even held a baby, he’s not sure if he ever even held one. He was ten when one of his cousins was born, but he didn’t care to hold him back then. 

Francine keeps making a grabby hand at him, while she tugs at his finger, starting to get fuzzy after a few minutes pass without your presence in the room. 

He sits up straighter and pulls the blanket up higher, he reaches for one of your throw pillows and places it on his lap. 

“Alright Francine,” Steve whispers, he takes a deep breath and furrows his brows in concentration as he carefully lifts her up, supporting her head with his palm, he pulls her closer and lays her down on the soft pillow. 

She coos and starts blowing bubbles, making Steve laugh. 

“Oh, you’re so adorable,” he smiles, pulling her a little closer, “did you pick that bow today?” He asks, eying the headband around her little head. 

She makes a few grunting noises, though looking at him with a happy look on her face. 

“Your auntie loves those bows too, she puts some in her ponytails sometimes,” Steve says, talking to her as though he will get more than just a few babbles from her. “I bet you’re gonna steal them from her someday–”

Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrt

Steve’s face pales at the sound, his eyes widen. 

The noise that came from her diapers sounded more than just air. 

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles before his eyes widen further at the curse word that just left his lips, “I shouldn’t have said that, shit– I mean, I’m sorry, please forget what I just said,” he rambles, as though she understood a single thing that he said. 

Francine babbles, kicking her feet into his stomach with a happy squeal. 

“Um,” he panics, looking around the room, “Blondie!?”

“What Steve!?” You call from the bathroom, “it’s been five minutes!” 

“I uh–” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he furrows his brows, “code red…?” 

You nearly laugh at his choice of words, you only ever used code red in the upside down, for the real emergencies. 

You can already guess what happened, and it only makes your amusement grow bigger. You quickly put your clothes on, and brush your hair before you make your way out of the bathroom and back to them. 

“Okay, I’m here,” you announce, placing his shirt that you stole earlier on your bed, you walk over to his side, and take a seat beside him, “that was the quickest shower of my life.” 

He gets a whiff of your vanilla body wash, of the mint from your toothpaste, and the smell of perfume that lingers in your hair, making his chest flutter. 

“She uh– I think she needs a diaper change.” 

“Oh,” you laugh, “that’s what you’re panicking about?” 

Steve glares at you.

“You wanted to help,” you shrug as you get up again, making your way out of the room again to get the bag with Francine’s stuff. “You gotta learn how to change diapers, Harrington!” 

Steve huffs nervously, “no big deal right?” He whispers to Francine. 

“Da da da.” 

“Yeah,” Steve laughs, “right.”

You come back into the room, and put the bag on the ground, picking out new diapers, wet wipes, baby powder and the spare onesie, along with the thin baby towel that you spread out on your mattress. 

“Alright, Lego head,” you raise your eyebrows at him, “do you wanna practice for your future nuggets or are you scared of baby poop?” 

He snorts, shaking his head at you.

“No, I’m not scared of baby poop.” 

You walk over to them both and lean down before him, you pick Francine up, and scrunch your face up, “yeah, you really need a diaper change, angel.”

Steve watches as you carry her over to the other side, placing her down on the towel you spread out. You undo the buttons of her onesie, smiling at the little girl. 

“Well, come on,” you giggle at him, “it’s an experience you gotta make, Steve.” 

Steve takes a deep breath, he throws the pillow off his lap and removes the cover. He gets up from the bed, standing there in his boxers for a moment, until his eyes find the sweatpants he discarded last night, he quickly throws them on, along with the shirt you wore earlier. 

“Alright,” he murmurs, running his fingers through his hair, he walks up beside you, “just tell me what to do.” 

You chuckle at his nervousness, you place your hand on his shoulder, “don’t worry, if Max was able to do it, you can do it too.” 

A breathy laugh falls from his lips. 

You guide him, giving him a little step by step of what to do. 

You watch the way his brows knit together, and the way he is nodding to himself as he follows your words. 

He doesn’t even look disgusted when the smell hits him, he only chuckles at the way Francine continues babbling happily. 

“She’s a happy baby, isn’t she?” 

You nod, smiling down at your niece, “yes she is.”

You hand him the new diapers and the baby powder, before you put the used wipes into the dirty diaper, roll it up carefully and throw it into the trash in your bathroom before you return to your room. 

“How old is she?” 

“She’s gonna be three months old tomorrow,” you say, smiling as you step up beside him again. 

Steve raises his eyebrows at Francine, “oh, you’re gonna be a big girl tomorrow?” He jokes as he tickles her belly, making her laugh. 

The smile on your face widens, the feeling in your chest growing stronger and brighter. 

Her small giggles, and the fond smile that rests in his tired features spark something deep inside of you, a warming and comforting feeling appears as you watch him take care of her with careful and slow movements. 

“Is that okay?” He asks you, gesturing to the diapers he put on her, “or is it too tight?”

You lean closer to him and check the pressure, “no, that’s perfect, Steve.”

“It is?” He asks, surprised. 

You nod, and start to put her onesie back on, “yeah, I don’t even know what you panicked about, you’ve done a better job than me, I didn’t know what I was doing the first time,” you laugh. “You did good, Lego head.” 

A dimpled grin appears on his face, despite the redness in his cheeks. 

“I-I think caring for a bunch of kids that turned into teens turned me into a natural, even babies. I mean, Dustin counts as a baby, doesn’t he?” He jokes, watching the way your eyes crinkle and your lips spread before you burst into giggles. 

Francine watches you with big eyes before she copies your giggles like before. 

Steve’s eyes light up, as he watches you both. 

The warmth in his chest spreads, as happiness rises up in him. 

After adjusting her clothes and the bow on her head, you pick her up into your arms, leaning down to kiss her cheek. 

You don’t even notice just how soft the look in his eyes, how the ghost of a smile now lingers on his lips, as he stares at the both of you in awe, watching the way Francine buries her face in the crook of your neck, and you keep a gentle hand on the back of her head. 

“Do you want some breakfast? I can make you something after I give this princess her bottle, I think she’s getting tired again.”

Steve’s heart thumps strongly in his chest, he can’t deny the emotions of adoration in him as he looks at you with the baby on your arm. 

“I can make you a breakfast sandwich or anything else you want.” 

Steve blinks. 

“Uh, you don’t have to make anything for me, Blondie. I can make you something though.”

You shake your head, “no, you’re my guest, I’ll make you breakfast, and you can feed her if you want.” 

“Okay,” he says with a sigh, nodding his head, “I’ll make you lunch or dinner though.”

“Oh, are you gonna woo me with your cooking skills now?” You giggle. 

He looks down with a smile, “I promised I would, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah, you did.” 

Francine clasps her fingers around your hair again, pulling it stronger than before, making you wince a little. 

“Okay, okay, someone’s getting a little grumpy now. I’m gonna go make her the bottle.” 

“I’ll be right there with you, I’m just gonna go brush my teeth real quick,” Steve gestures to your bathroom, “do you need me to carry the bag down?”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not heavy,” you say as you step towards him, “but can you help me put it on my shoulder?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He grabs the bag and steps towards you, putting the strap around your shoulder. His eyes soften yet again, when he sees you looking down at your niece, smiling as she blinks at you with her big eyes. 

Steve doesn’t even notice that his hand still lingers on your shoulder, or that he’s rubbing your back, he is too in awe of the two of you, and that feeling stays with him, even when you leave the room and go downstairs, even when he goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, he stares at his reflection in the mirror, and he can’t even unsee the happiness and the relaxation in his features, but he decides to pay no mind to it. 

When he joins you downstairs, he finds you in the kitchen, finishing up on Francine’s bottle, you’re shaking it, while whispering something to her as you’re still holding her in your arm, still. 

Steve doesn’t know what it is, but the sight before him, makes him freeze in his spot. 

As you stand there in your kitchen, with a smile on your lips, and a look of adoration in your eyes, you’re cooing at your niece, giggling every time she babbles something at you, he realizes something. 

You are comfortable, right now. 

You’re in your home, away from the eyes of strangers, hidden from the world that you have only shown one side of yourself to, your walls are down, you are just yourself, and there is no shame behind your eyes, because all your attention goes to someone you adore and love, and don’t feel the need to hide from. 

Your eyes shine brightly, your features are relaxed in a way they have never been before, and your smile is so genuine, so real. 

You’re talking to her with a small and gentle voice, you hold her tightly against your chest – and you… god you look so beautiful like this. 

You look so beautiful with a baby in your arms. 

Warmth spreads across his whole body, he likes the sight in front of him, he likes it so much that it should scare him, but it doesn’t. 

“There he is, Francis,” you smile, glancing at Steve, you don’t even notice how frozen in place he is, how heaven struck he looks, “are you ready to give her the bottle?” 

Steve blinks, snapping out of his mind, he nods at you with a blush on his cheeks. 

You brush past him, and gesture for him to follow you into the living room, after you grab the cloth from the counter. 

You place the bottle on the coffee table, and wait for him to take a seat on the couch. 

“Alright, you gotta tell me what to do,” Steve says nervously, as he sits down, “I’ve never done this before.” 

“Don’t be nervous, you got this,” you assure him. 

You step between his legs, and lean down to place Francine into his arms. 

Without needing to be told, he cradles the back of her head, as he gently pulls her into his arms, a smile spreading on his lips when her big eyes look into his. 

“Okay,” you whisper and put the cloth under her chin, adjusting it over her clothes in case a little accident might happen. 

“Am I holding her correctly?” Steve asks, looking up at you. 

The side of her face is nuzzled into his chest, the back of her head resting in the crook of his arm. You didn’t even need to guide him, he truly is a natural. 

“Yeah,” you smile, “you’re doing great.”

You hand him the bottle, and sit down beside him. 

“Did you test the temperature?” Steve asks, and you almost want to laugh at his question. 

“Yeah Steve, I did.” 

He nods at you. 

With a chuckle, you pull your feet up onto the sofa and sit on your knees, turning your body towards them. 

“Okay, now gently place the teat into her mouth and slowly tilt the bottle, she will do the rest.” 

He furrows his brows, poking his tongue through his lips, he focuses on your niece as he follows your words. 

You watch him closely, how soft and concentrated his eyes are, how careful his movements are, how small she looks in his arms, how sweet the sight of them is. 

Francine raises her little arm, and places her tiny hand on the bottle as she starts sucking on the teat, small noises falling from her. 

“Oh my god,” Steve whispers, the biggest smile you have ever seen, now glowing in his features as he looks at her in awe, “she’s the cutest little bean.” 

“Yeah, she is,” you smile and tilt your head as you watch them, the fluttering feeling in your chest sparking.

Her eyelashes flutter, her big eyes still staring into his. 

“I’m gonna cry, Blondie,” Steve murmurs, adoring the little human in his arms. “She's so tiny and adorable.” 

You move closer and reach for the corner of the cloth, wiping away the bit of milk that rolls down her chin. 

“You’re gonna have one of those someday too.”

Steve smiles at your words, nodding as he whispers “hopefully.” 

But he doesn’t notice the way your own smile falls, the way your eyes sadden for a moment, the way you look down and blink away the feelings you don’t want him to see. And he doesn’t realize how quiet you get, he is too distracted by Francine and the thoughts in his head, the pictures of a future he longs for so badly. 

Only when the bottle is empty and he removes it, does he turn back to you, but still too blinded by his mind to see the look in your eyes. You take the bottle from his hand, and place it back on the coffee table. 

“You gotta hold her against your chest now,” you tell him and remove the cloth from her body, you place it on his chest instead, “and gently pat her back so she can burp.” 

You guide him again, helping him hold her correctly as he places her against his chest, he puts his hand on her back, and starts patting gently. 

“Is that good?”

“Yeah,” you whisper and scoot closer to him, you reach for her tiny hand, caressing it as you watch her with a smile on your face, “she’s tired.” 

“Yeah, pooping must’ve been really exhausting,” Steve jokes, making you giggle. 

“Yeah, totally–”

A loud burp falls from her mouth. 

“Oh that was a big one,” Steve chuckles as he stops patting her, “you did good, bug.”

“She didn’t even spit, she usually does a little, wow you really do have magical hands,” you chuckle, and remove the cloth from his shoulder. 

“Told you, I’m a natural,” he smiles proudly. 

You roll your eyes playfully. 

“Do you want me to take her now?” You ask. 

He shakes his head at you, “can I hold her for a while?” 

Confusion flashes in your eyes. You know how badly he needs his coffee in the mornings, it’s one of the first things he does after he wakes up, going into the kitchen to brew his beloved morning coffee. He didn’t even take a single sip yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind, he is too in awe of the baby on his chest. 

Realization replaces the look in your eyes – he is entering a baby fever trance, with your niece nonetheless. It makes your smile reappear, that’s how you feel too, every time you get to spend time with her. 

“Of course,” you whisper, as your gaze softens. 

Francine’s eyelashes flutter, her blinking getting slower and lesser. 

“She’s gonna pass out though, you should sit back a little so she can lay on you.” 

He nods at your words, placing one hand on her back and the other under her bum, he lays back slowly, his lips twitching into a small smile when he sees her already falling asleep. She scrunches up her nose as she nuzzles her face into his chest, making you both laugh when she suddenly throws her hand up, managing to catch onto a strand of his hair. 

She wiggles around for a moment, before her eyes start falling shut. 

“And she’s out,” Steve whispers, chuckling to himself. “I wish I could fall asleep this fast.” 

“Yeah, me too.”

Her cheek is squished against him, she’s breathing softly now, her hand falling from his hair and onto his shoulder, her little headband beginning to slip off. 

You reach out to take it off her head slowly, and lean in to place a soft kiss on her forehead, unaware of the fond smile on Steve’s lips, or the feelings that rush through him because of you. 

“I’m gonna go make some coffee and breakfast now,” you mumble as you pull away, and get up from the couch, grabbing the bottle and the cloth. 

Steve’s eyes follow you as you walk over to the TV stand, and grab the remote, handing it to him, “you can watch something if you want, it won’t disturb her, she’s a heavy sleeper.”

“I’m good, I’ll watch her for now,” he whispers. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you say, and give him a smile before you leave the room. 

A genuine smile. 

You smiled at him before, countless of times actually, but he could never tell what was real and what wasn’t, what was genuine and what was forced or just sarcastic. But this, this was a real smile, and there was no second meaning behind it. You just smiled at him, naturally. It makes him feel… happy, and as he looks down at the little girl that has your features, he realizes something. 

The feeling in his chest was never for nothing, it was never false or misleading. 

It was just as real as the smile you blessed him with. 

Suddenly, everything before him doesn't seem as dull and colorless as it did all these past months and even years, something sparks before his eyes and he can see again, he can feel something besides the never ending gnawing in his chest and the restlessness in his bones, the fears that nestled deep into his soul. He finally sees something other than the darkened clouds and the red lights that keep flashing before his eyes. 

A light that keeps peeking through every once in a while is on the verge of breaking through, making the walls around him rattle as the foundation starts to crumble, one brick at a time starts falling into an abyss. 

A future lays before his eyes, calling out to him and waiting to be grasped, an echo, a whisper, a glimpse of what could be if things were only different. 

For the rest of the day, Steve feels as though he had fallen into a pleasant dream, a world where it’s only you and him, a little girl that made him realize just how badly he wants to have a family of his own – he already knew that he wanted it, but he pictured the wrong person by his side, a person he no longer even wanted. 

He was blinded by old feelings, and the wish to have something real again, when it never even was to begin with. 

The feelings that are sparking in him now, feel so different from anything that he had ever felt before, and he only opens his eyes to them more and more as the day passes, and he sees a side of you that he had never seen before. 

He sees with how much love and gentleness you treat your niece, he sees the way your eyes hold nothing but adoration for the girl that you would do anything for. 

He hears how soft your voice can get. 

He feels how soft your touch can be when you once again hand her to him. 

And his heart beats so strongly, so fastly in his chest when a giggle falls from your lips after Francine pouts when you take her away from him again, only to be forced to place her back into his arms when she almost starts crying. 

Steve adores her, and he adores you – a little more as every second of this day passes. 

The thing that pushes him nearer towards the finish line of realization, is this very moment in front of him. 

Your niece fell asleep on his chest yet again, you are sitting right next to him, with your head on his shoulder and your eyes glued on her, your finger tracing her little features. The urge to pull you closer and hold you feels so strong to the point that his fingers start itching. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t cook dinner for you,” he whispers. 

You look at him through your lashes, the corner of your lip twitching as your eyes flicker to his lips for a brief moment. 

The only light in the room now coming from the TV, the volume set on the lowest. The rain is still falling, even as the night nears. 

“It’s okay, Francis didn’t let you,” you giggle softly, not knowing that the sound makes his heart flutter. “Besides, the pizza was really good.” 

“Yeah, it was,” he whispers. 

He notices how tired you look, how the sleepiness is beginning to set into your features now too. 

“Look at her tiny nose,” you whisper as you look back at her, “and those little hands.”

Something in the way you hold her hand and whisper so adoringly about her, makes him long for you even more – but not in a way he had felt before, no, this is different, this is so very serious. 

Steve lifts his arm as a blush creeps up to his cheeks, he wraps his arm around you, and pulls you closer, “come here,” he whispers into your hair, “there’s space for two Blondies on my chest.”

He doesn’t know what kind of emotions he can trigger in you, with such simple words. 

He doesn’t know that you have been dying to feel this. 

You lay your head on his chest, and he can’t help but smile at the sigh that falls from your lips. You put your arm around Francine, and snuggle against him, and you stay like that, for a while at least, until Steve allows his feelings to take the lead. 

He adjusts the blanket over Francine before he pulls you even closer, and he buries his fingers in your hair, allowing himself to play with it like he only ever does when you’re fast asleep and unaware of his soft touches or the glances that fall upon your skin. 

He would feel joy if he knew about the emotions that linger inside of you. 

“You will be an amazing dad to your little nuggets someday, Steve,” you say in a whisper, it’s almost too quiet for him to hear, “and a good husband too.” 

The shakiness in your voice and the sadness goes by unnoticed by him, he is too stunned by your words. 

If he could see inside your head, he would know how much sadness there is, how the dark clouds always reside, how you don’t see a future for yourself because you know that he won’t be in it, and without him, what will you have? What will you be? A wilting rose, left behind to die. You are barely holding on now, but you are still here, because he is still keeping you alive. Your life is in his hands. 

Steve takes a deep breath, he opens his mouth to whisper to you, only to see you fast asleep now too, your cheek squished against his chest just like Francine’s is. 

He breathes out, lips curling into a smile as he stops playing with your hair. 

“You will be amazing too, Blondie,” he whispers. 

A girlfriend. A wife. A mother. 

Whatever you choose to be, whoever you will bless with your love, they are going to be so lucky to have you. 

And before he can even realize where his thoughts are taking him, a frown nestles into his features. The thought that he will become a memory to you, makes him feel uneasy. The thought that someone will step into your life, and take away what you both have, fills him with gray-ish sadness once again. The image of someone putting a ring on your finger and getting to be the one to lift the veil and kiss you on the altar openly, in front of everybody, and without needing to hide, spreads the darkness in him, yet again. 

He looks down at you, at the way you look so comfortable in his embrace, while your soft hand stays on the girl’s back, he admires you, and he feels no shame to do so, not even when he lifts his hand to brush your hair out of your face. 

But his time with you is cut short when the front door unlocks and opens, and footsteps echo in the hallway, a moment later. 

He turns his face away from you, when your sister steps into the living room, freezing in her steps when she sees him. 

Steve swallows the lump in his throat, giving her a tight lipped smile, he raises his hand to wave at her, “hi…”

She furrows her brows as she takes in the sight of you three, her lips pulling into a confused smile. She takes her denim jacket off and walks further into the room, her lips curling into a big smile when she takes a look at her girl. 

But then her eyes fall back on him, and suddenly, her lips part in surprise. 

“Hi…Oh– you, hang on,” she mumbles, tilting her head before her eyes widen, “Steve Harrington?”

Steve doesn’t know what to think of the look on her face, or the stunned tone in her voice. 

He met her before, at the hospital when she came to visit you, but he didn’t talk to her, and her reaction makes him wonder if you have mentioned him before. 

“Yeah… that’s uh… that’s me.”

The silence that follows is almost too loud, he can see the way she looks between you both, back and forth, as her brows stay furrowed. 

She points a finger between you both, “so uh… you’re her boyfriend?”

Steve hesitates, and he glances down at you, bitterness lays on his tongue when he utters the next words, “uh… no… no, I’m not.” Sadly, he thinks.

And when he registers the words that popped into his head out of nowhere, he suddenly wants nothing more than to escape this situation, fearing his own feelings again. 

“I-I should go now.” 

“Oh, you’re not staying another night?” She asks, a somewhat smug tone in her voice as she looks at you. 

He would love to, but it’s better to go now. It’s not safe to stay, not for his heart.

“No, I have to work tomorrow.”

“Ah,” she nods and walks over to the three of you, “I’ll take her now,” she whispers, and carefully picks her daughter up. The little girl stirs in her sleep, grunting quietly but not opening her eyes just yet. 

“She’s a heavy sleeper,” Steve chuckles as he watches the way Francine relaxes into her mother’s arms. 

“She really is,” your sister laughs, and walks over to the armchair, taking a seat before she looks back up at Steve, “kind of like Daisy when she’s relaxed,” she nudges her chin towards you. 

A smile appears on his face, and he looks down at you, his arm is still wrapped around you, and he already dreads the feeling of having to let you go. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, taking a long look at you, before he decides to get up. 

A sigh leaves his lips, and he slowly slips away from you, replacing his chest with a pillow for your head, his eyes soften when you scrunch your nose up just the way your niece did earlier. He adjusts the blanket over you, fighting the urge to leave a kiss on your forehead before he steps away. 

Your sister eyes him closely, watching how he treats you with so much care. 

When Steve steps away, and looks away from you, glancing at your sister, heat rushes to his cheeks when he sees the way she looks between you both, a smug look lingering in her eyes, a small but teasing smile on her face. 

He wants to run. 

“Okay uh,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck before he points his finger at the hallway, “I’m gonna go.” 

“Okay,” she nods, “thanks for helping with Francine.”

He waves his hand, a smile now reappearing on his face as he looks at the baby girl, already missing the feeling of holding her. 

“No need to thank me, I loved spending time with these two,” he chuckles, pointing between you and your niece. “But uh, I’m gonna head out.”

“Alright,” she smiles at him.

He takes one last look at you before he turns around and makes his way out of the living room, he puts his Nike’s on, and grabs the car keys he threw on the counter, last night. 

“Bye, Twinkie.”

“Bye…” She mumbles with furrowed brows, confused at the name he just called her by. 

The front door shuts quietly, yet loud enough to wake you up. With a flinch, you open your eyes, and look around the room, feeling a little disoriented. You look to your side, the empty spot beside you, making you frown. 

“Your boyfriend left,” your sister's voice sounds through the room. 

You turn to her, finding her in the armchair she always loved so much. A smug look is resting on her lips. 

“Shut up,” you mumble, glaring at her. 

She laughs at you, and leans back, getting comfortable in her seat. 

“Spill. Now.” 

-

The hot water rolls down Steve’s skin, the smell of shampoo surrounds him as he washes his hair. 

His eyes are closed, but a smile rests on his lips, as images of all the things that happened today replay in his mind. 

The fluttering in his chest hasn’t stopped at all, everything you did, everything you said, every single touch of yours has seemingly turned him into a hopeless teenager again – only, he isn’t one anymore, and the feelings inside of him, go much deeper than the ones of a seventeen year old boy. 

And no matter how much he tries to deny them, he just can’t, because it becomes less and less possible to pretend that they aren’t there.

Today, they shined through so brightly, when he saw how soft and gentle you could be, when he saw the sides of you that you never wanted to show. He saw something he never thought was even there. And it causes awful feelings to rise up in him, when he comes to the realization that all these years, you were only protecting yourself from the hurt in this world, and you did so by putting up a front and giving people the wrong pictures of yourself.

You were mean and rough to those you didn’t trust, and he was one of them, maybe he still is, but he saw you today. 

When you greeted him this morning, with your niece in your arms. 

When you kissed her little forehead, and held her in your sweet embrace. 

When you taught him to bottle feed her. 

When you admired her with him, and traced her little features with your finger and a loving smile on your face. 

When you told him how great of a husband he would be someday, and an amazing dad to his nuggets.

Wait… you said nuggets, plural. He never told you he wanted kids, so how did you know? How did you even know he would love to call his children that particular word? Was it intuition? Was it a coincidence? 

His eyebrows knit together with complete and utter confusion as the water just keeps running over his head, and the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. 

The RV. His conversation with Nancy. Him telling Nancy he wants to be someone’s husband and have six nuggets. Him pouring his desires out, thinking that everyone else in the vehicle was sound asleep.

But you weren’t.

Fuck, you weren’t asleep. You heard him. You heard him talking to Nancy, and you– you think that he wants those things with her still. He should clarify it, shouldn’t he? He wants to tell you that it was the dread of the world ending talking for him. He wants to explain himself to you–

Explain himself? Why? You probably wouldn’t care who he has kids with, or who he marries. You would simply give him a thumbs up and a confused look on your face. But– He feels his stomach contracting with nerves, nerves he knows all too well. He doesn’t need to explain anything to you. He doesn’t need to clarify anything. 

But, he doesn’t want you to think he wants that family with Nancy Wheeler.

He really doesn’t.

And he is terrified that he doesn’t want you to misunderstand.

Absolutely fucking terrified.

And then, the realization, the surprise and the nerves turn into absolute guilt. He had also said a few things about you. Nancy told him that it’s sad you had to be included this way into the party, into their problems, but that you looked strong and determined after going into the upside down just one time.

And he replied with how much he desired you wouldn’t have gotten involved at all. It sounded harsh, it sounded vile and venomous… And it was intended that way, or at least that’s what he thought. 

Now, he realizes that he didn’t want you involved so you wouldn’t go through danger, but you did, you went through so much pain and suffering. Nancy was right, you were strong, and you didn’t second guess your actions when it meant saving someone. 

“Shit–” He jumped a bit when he felt the water turn cold, not realizing for how long he had been in his head, thinking, running through his thoughts and memories. He turned the water off and shook his head to get the excess of it out of his hair. 

He got out of the shower and grabbed a towel, a white one that had the smudge of a lipstick stain that never got off. Your lipstick. 

And just that mere stain made his heart jump and miss one beat, two beats, maybe three. Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He really wants you to know he doesn’t mean what he said in the RV.

To both of those things.

Especially the one about Nancy.

“Fuck me.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @sherrylyn628 @munson-mjstan @maroon-cardigan @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @ibellcipem @corrodedcorpses @agirlwholovesrockstars

[juliaia]

Rainy Nights in Hell's Kitchen

—————————————————————

Summary: You’ve been dating Matt for about a year—you always sleep better when you’re with him.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x gn!reader

Warnings: Swearing, nightmares, fluff, overuse of em-dashes.

A/N: This is super short and sweet, but I wanted to try writing for Matty. Totally feel free to request stuff if you enjoy, but I post fics at random whenever the urge strikes, so I’m not like an “official tumblr fanfic person” or whatever—but I sure am here!

—————————————————————

It was a dark and stormy night—and usually you wouldn’t mind that. The rain is pretty peaceful, and with the windows open you can catch the cool night air and the smell of petrichor on the breeze.

But today has been long and tiring, and lately you’ve been having really vivid, unpleasant nightmares.

You’ve kept them mostly to yourself, tying them to the general stress of day-to-day life and maybe a dash of unresolved trauma—but they’re just nightmares. They’re silly, and you are definitely not afraid to go to bed tonight in your own room in the dark, with the occasional, startling boom of loud thunder in the background.

The fact that you immediately answer a much too eager, “yes”, when Matt asks if you want to stay over at his apartment is totally unrelated.

So now, you’re sitting in the bathroom with Matt, getting ready for bed.

He looks so damn pretty in the slightly dim lighting. His face is cast in a soft glow, his bare chest is looking like a very warm, very comfortable pillow, his sweats are fitting him very nicely and making his butt look exceptionally cute—but to be fair, he always looks sinfully good. You’re pretty sure you could watch him just exist for hours on end.

You see a grin creep onto his face as he feels your eyes on him.

“You’re staring, sweetheart.” He says, pushing his hand through his hair as he turns towards you and holds out a hand. You take it, and he leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Just watching you. You’re pretty.” You say. His grin softens to something less mischievous and more fond and sweet, and he leans in again, this time planting a soft kiss on your lips.

“You’re prettier.” He murmurs—he’s got this shamelessly lovesick look on his face. You chuckle and roll your eyes.

“Says the blind man.” He gives your hand a playful squeeze.

“I can still tell you’re pretty—ready for bed?” He asks. You hesitantly nod.

“Uh, yeah, alright.” He raises an eyebrow.

“…You’re usually more enthusiastic about sleeping.” You sigh, the two of you walking over to settle into bed on top of the cool silk sheets.

“I’ve just been having weird, bad dreams.” You explain. Matt’s face goes all soft and sympathetic.

If there is one thing Matt is, it’s protective. Which is usually sweet, but occasionally overdramatic to the point of hilarity. For example—two weeks ago, you got a papercut while opening a package (one of those awful cardboard-paper-cuts), and the moment Matt heard you let out that little hiss of frustration and pain, he came rushing over to fuss over you, face painted with concern as he took your hand and frantically examined the wound. It’s especially funny considering how he insists you don’t need to worry about him when he shows up at 3 in the morning after patrol, bleeding from a stab wound in his side, or on the verge of passing out from a concussion.

So, you mention the nightmares, and Matt goes all soft, pulling you against his chest, holding you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Oh, angel, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks. You shrug.

“Eh, you’ve got other stuff on your plate—they’re just nightmares.” Matt shakes his head, nuzzling his face into your hair and inhaling deeply.

“They’re upsetting you, and ruining your sleep.” He murmurs, kissing the top of your head.

“Matty, babydoll—“ He cuts you off by pulling back and pressing his forehead against yours, his warm eyes unfocused and unseeing but somehow still so damn emotional.

“Sweetheart,” He says. “You always take care of me. Let me take care of you, please?”

Dammit—Matt and his stupid puppy dog eyes. That sweet soft sad look he gives you, the pleading, pouty face, his pretty pink lips and big dumb wet eyes. You relent, sighing in defeat, and he grins, pulling you into his arms, kissing your cheek, and dragging you to bed, laying down with you.

“I’m here, okay?” He murmurs, kissing the top of your head. You grumble, folding yourself into his arms, smushing up against his chest. He rubs your back, holding you close. “Nothing gets to ruin your sleep except for me.” He says. You snort, giving his bicep a squeeze–oh those wonderful thick arms of his.

“Dork.” He pulls you over, tucking you against his chest for a cuddle. He nuzzles his face against the top of your head.

“I’m here. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. No nightmares.” He says. You smile, hand finding his, fingers lacing through his own.

“I don’t know if you have any control over what I dream about, but I appreciate it anyway.” You say. Matt yawns softly, kissing your temple.

“I’m just gonna hold you so tight the nightmares won’t be able to get you.” He loves having you so close, loves being able to protect you and cuddle up with you to sleep. He presses his nose and mouth into the crook of your neck, letting out a happy growl. You reach back to ruffle his hair.

“Thanks, Matty.” You murmur. He nods, kissing your cheek.

Curled up in his arms, you fall asleep easier. The rain falls outside, soft pitter patters on the window panes as Matt’s steady breathing lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up at two in the morning, hands gripping the sheets, Matt wakes up with you, pulling you closer and kissing your temple, hands coming up to rub your shoulders.

“Hey angel, you’re okay. I’m here.” You push yourself further into his arms, body shaking slightly as you wrap your arms around his arm, holding it against your chest. “I’m here.” He rubs your chest, hand drawing soothing circles against you. “What can I do to help, hm?”

You just push yourself closer to him, and he settles you into his lap, shushing you gently and kissing the top of your head. He holds you tightly, hand gently rubbing over your racing heart in a gesture he hopes is grounding and comforting.

You tuck your face against his warm neck, inhaling the scent of him, pressing a soft kiss to his skin. He chuckles, hand coming to cup your cheek, his face tilting down and his nose nudging against yours. You wrap your arms around him, too tired and shaken up to be embarrassed about seeking him out for comfort. He cuddles you against him, laying back with you against his chest.

You’re quickly lulled back to sleep by the soothing sounds of his breathing and heartbeat, and after that, you sleep solidly through the night without any issues. Matt’s warm arms wrapped around you, blankets cozy and soft, the rain and thunder outside becoming gentle background noise.

In the morning, Matt wakes you up with a few soft kisses on the temple, stirring you to consciousness, drawing a little grumble from you. He chuckles, rubbing your back gently.

“Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t resist.” He pecks you on the lips. You hide your face against his chest, trying to block out the light from the window. He kisses the top of your head, throwing his leg over your hip to pull you closer. He’s so warm, and he smells so good, and he’s cuddling you close like you’re the most precious thing in the world. “Did you sleep okay? Aside from the bad dreams?” He asks, hand resting on your back. You nuzzle your face against the crook of his arm. You did sleep okay, you felt safe and warm in his arms, held close in his arms.

“Mhm. Slept better with you.” You say. Matt grins, face flushing as he snuggles you closer, squishing you against him.

“You should stay over more often. Move in with me, so I can keep you safe from all the nightmares.” He says, fingers brushing through your hair. You smile softly.

“…Shit, are you asking me to move in with you?” You ask. Matt kisses your forehead.

“Depends…would you say yes if I was?” You chuckle.

“Yes, yes I would.” Matt smiles, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“Then yes, yes I am asking you to move in with me.”

“And I’m saying yes.”

[luvrsux]

“Obsession”

word count: 3.8k

summary: you started off as a bartender at some rundown club until a mafia group infiltrated your job unexpectedly but the leader himself grows quite keen to you

cw//tw: nsfw!! shooting, mentions of murder/killing, creampie, oral, praising, obsession

disclaimer: im in no way romantizating mafia/mafia gang organizations. this is for entertainment purposes only

On a rather lustful, midnight weekend, you were working as a waitress at a night men’s club, minding your own business serving customers while they gawked at the skimpy dancers on steel poles. The club was a rather expensive one, where people of riches and fortune could express it by merely breathing. Despite the town, your job paid you a terrible rate. You’ve grown to hate your job. Sure, security helped and protected the slim dancers on the poles with precision but it, unfortunately, didn’t apply for you. Your body would get catcalled and often groped unwontedly. You lost track of the number of bruises and nosebleeds you gave the disgusting men that lounged in your workplace.

You then heard a blood-curdling scream in front of the dimly lit building. The sheer amount of terror on the feminine shriek made your heart drop miles into the Earth’s core, watching a half-naked woman running out of the building flailing her arms before a bullet spiked straight there her skull.

Whatever beverage stood on your black tray immediately crashed into the carpeted floor upon watching the horrid scene. People pushed past you to escape the chance of ending up in the poor woman’s shoes. Your total shell-shocked state was the very reason you crashed onto the ground by the taller, broad bodies colliding with you. You winced in pain when your body landed in a not-so-comfortable position causing your ankle to sprain.

Before you knew it, the building attracted more corpses when the culprit watched the population pour out of the building. The person sure was trigger-happy. Tears swelled your eyes but you still managed to trace the figure of the man now holding a pistol.

“That’s enough, Yasopp” A voice, that was oddly soothing. Your heart pumped out of your chest once you eyed the man now approaching you. He had two other men sprout behind him like a plantation.

“What do we have here?”

He crouched to your level, analyzing your figure. You held your now unavailable foot, completely defenseless. Even if you tried to run, the man now named Yasopp would shoot you down with his eyes closed. You gulped.

“You’re cute” You saw a grin appear on his lips, as well as bright crimson hair. He had an index finger and thumb pull your chin up to his face. Pure terror overcame you.

“I know you hate this shitty job, love. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you an entirely new world”

Now here you are

It was a dark, midnight rainy night on Friday. The building you were being driven to was laying in only the most expensive city in the country. There were blinding lights all around, nearly suffocating your vision. The window tints only helped so much.

What made this specific Friday night so different was you were approaching the head of the Red-Haired Mafia group. This was a weekly thing, every night you’d be escorted in a rather ominous sleek, black limo quietly to his grand mansion for a quick “meeting”.

You wore a tight slim dress that provocatively opened at your chest. It barely reached the middle of your thighs, the hem that is. Your neck glistened with the jewels the boss kindly gifted you. The giant fur coat covering your shoulders was also a generous token from the redhead, making it especially sacred considering he delivered it to you not only in person but on your birthday. Your sugar-coated gifts were usually left at your door to avoid being detained by the federal authorities, so the coat was something you’d cherished.

You’ve grown attached to the boss and everyone knew you were his weekly fling. As you admired the bright lights springing past your tinted window, a slim glass of champagne in hand, you traced back to the very first time you met. Your first impression was pure terror, but as time passed when you realized this was now your life, you’ve gotten accustomed to it.

Shanks, the boss you were fucking every weekend and in an oddly intimate relationship with, did turn your life upside down. It gave you whiplash with how fast he bought you a new house, jewels, and prizes for simply existing in a way he appreciated. You wouldn’t praise the life you were currently living, but you definitely didn’t complain. If it weren’t for Shanks, you’d still be living in that run-down, rugged apartment and that hell of a job for as long as you can remember.

You knew Shanks would kill anyone who dared to wrong you, it’s happened before. Your “favorite” was when you were at a club with the man himself. He had an arm rest around the top of the cushioned seat, underneath being you sitting there pretty as ever. Your seating was in a secluded, VIP area where absolutely no one was allowed into. Of course, you and Shanks recklessly made love in the room several times before and everyone would know.

A random extra wanted to converse with Shanks himself, putting the passionate rough lovemaking on hold for now. To this day, you wondered how a guy can be so dumb as to blatantly hit on you in front of the man himself. Not wanting to get his hands bloody and off of you, he had one of his crew members suffocate the air out of his body in a blink of an eye.

“Get rid of the body, the lady doesn’t like it” Shanks immediately ordered once the body let out a croak. His mates nodded immediately, thus having the body leave your field of vision faster than a snap of the fingers. Shanks had his remaining hand cup the side of your face to turn to him.

“You only belong to me, and I’ll gladly get rid of anyone who decides to intervene, princess,” He said with a cold smile. His demeanor did something wrong to you, but it felt so terribly right. You appreciated the way Shanks’ heart had a rope tied around your own. You knew Shanks wasn’t lying, and he kept his word ever since, even before then.

Now, usually, Shanks would greet you in the limo inside to “prepare” you for what’s to come, not only simply sharing a few drinks. Upon getting into the seats and seeing his absence, you realized how much you longed for his presence.

Shanks - 12:34 PM

Sorry for not being there, princess. I have a few things to do first xx

Was the text Shanks left you a few moments before entering the fancy vehicle. You were growing antsy about meeting him as pure usual. He’s given you the best nights of your life for as long as you can remember being in his palms. Each week you’d only have your hopes set on Friday.

You finally arrived at your destined destination. You heard your chauffeur speak on his phone, alerting your “partner” about your sudden presence. You waited patiently for someone to open your door for you to waltz out elegantly. You’ve grown used to the prissy, princess treatment. You have been letting Shanks fuck your brain out for roughly a year and some change now.

“She’s here, boss” Is all you heard before the door swung open for you to flood out. Your heels make a firecracker sound upon impact once you stood up from your seat.

“You’re a doll, Roux” You cooed, receiving a pleased smile from the bigger guy that once escorted you to the grand building before you.

You approached the front steps, passing by the grand fountain in front that spurted water in several directions—a rather perfect centerpiece for the mansion. You eyed the security guard up front.

“Where is he?” You asked.

“On his way, ma’am”

“Always keeping me waiting…”

You grumbled, stepping foot on the steps. Your stiletto heels hadn’t stopped making that fire-cracking pop sound with every preppy step. You finally gazed upon a toned, broad body appearing in front. His draped trench coat draped over his body while he wore a loose white button-up and black slacks to match. He had a pleased grin at your mere presence. The redhead snaked his hand to grab yours, placing his lips on the surface of your hand. You felt his stubble tickle your skin, making you giggle.

“I missed you, princess” He cooed, pulling you close to his body.

Shanks wrapped a prideful arm around your shoulders, the fuzziness of your expensive coat tickling his veiny, toned arm. You smiled happily.

“You say that every time, dear”

“How could I not?” You felt Shanks breathe and caress your neck through the fluff. A chill slithered down your spine.

“You always make me feel good~”

You felt his eager lips collide with your own. He proudly smudged your glossed lips when the two lips synced together passionately. Shanks didn’t care if he was in the middle of the massive foyer, he thrived nothing more than publicly proving to everyone you belonged to him—and him only.

Your arms latched around his neck, only making his hands grope the fats of your ass through your slick, black dress. Your lips parted ever so slightly, giving the eager crimson-haired man to slither his tongue to dance with your own. At this point, you two were heavily breathing in each other's mouths. You clearly longed for his touch, and it didn’t help that Shanks reciprocated that same feeling. You felt his lips detach from yours, leaving a slight feeling of disappointment lingering in your body.

“Let me take you to my office, doll” He smiled. You felt arms bring your body upward to latch around his torso. The sudden movement made a giggle escape your lips.

Shanks slammed your rear on his pricy, wooden desk that was scattered with files and papers of his targets—but who was paying attention to any of that? You two were going at it in each other's mouths, not parting to breathe for a single minute. Shanks's scarred hand tore off the fur that coated your body with ease, tossing it wherever in his office room.

You released a small moan once you felt his hands travel mindlessly around your body. His hands tugged down the hem of the dress that covered your chest. Your breasts poured out like a tsunami to Shanks's entertainment. A hungry hand latched onto it with force, letting yet another moan travel out your mouth.

“Fuck, princess…” Shanks breathed in your mouth from pure pleasure. His arm, without a single hesitation, cleaned everything laying on his desk to create space for your body all for his pleasure.

His thirsty lips traveled to your open neck, painting the entire canvas with bruised marks made by his mouth and teeth. Each mark made a whimper escape your now smudged lips. Your hand stroked through his crimson locks with each passing second he was on your neck.

“Lay down, baby” His voice was muffled by the marks he was mercilessly making on your body, recharging the ones that were beginning to fade from previous “meetings”.

Your back made contact with the now bare desk, fully aware of the consequences that’ll occur if you didn’t oblige. Shanks moved his hands to your lace to peel them off with complete ease. To no one’s surprise, your slit was already wet and ready for Shanks's body. He chuckled, always enjoying the view of your throbbing cunt before he completely tore through it.

Shanks didn’t even bother taking your dress off from the sheer anticipation coursing through his sadistic veins. He just crinkled it upward to make a better opening. Your head was thrown back when Shanks grabbed your thighs to lay on his broad shoulders.

All you felt was a moist tongue graze along your lips and sensitive bud with one swipe and the slight sensation of stubble. Your long moan made Shanks chuckle, sending vibrations in your body.

Shanks went back into devouring your cunt while knowing exactly where your sensitive spots lay. His tongue made sure to explore each and every crevice like it was the last meal of his lifetime. The room was filled with your messy moans and the sounds of slush slurping by Shanks’ hungry mouth.

Shanks flicked his tongue over your bud, sending a mountain peak of pleasure through your core. You shrieked, suddenly feeling that tight knot begin to snap.

“Sh- aah aah~! Im about to cum, Shanks~!” You cried. Shanks only chuckled at your, what he can only describe as pathetic, reaction, sending those vibrations through your body once more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck~!” You cursed, spurting out your secretions all on Shanks’ stubbled mouth. Shanks pulled away with a grin and a complete log in his pants while you watched him wipe the moisture off his face with an arm, all through completely distorted and blurred eyes. Your session was far from over though.

“Your turn?” You breathed heavily from your massive orgasm. Shanks still had that, as you like to describe it, sexy grin while he unbuckled his pants that were on the verge of bursting from his member.

“You know me so well~” He cooed, watching your sluggish body peel off the desk. You bit your lower lip and brought your body down to your shaken knees, your body still not fully recovered from your previous orgasm.

You saw Shanks’ member spring into your face. The intimidating size always caught you off guard each time he recoiled it onto you. You eyed the small number of sticky secretions spewing out of the hole from his arousal. You wrapped your hand around the base of it, making Shanks sharply hiss by your mere touch. You could tell he was longing for you ever since he saw you leave his place in your last appointment.

You placed a gentle kiss on the tip of it, making Shanks lightly jolt. He knew you were teasing him and he didn’t like it. Shanks’ excitement was getting way too much for him, and you were only making it worse.

“Open your pretty mouth, (F/N)” He ordered. You didn’t think he’d catch onto your sly antics so quickly. You obeyed submissively, extending your mouth agape in front of his throbbing, hot member.

You felt a hand rest on the back of your head, and it was the exact thing to push your mouth forcefully onto him whole. You let out a small yelp, followed by several sloppy gags by his girth and length. Shanks let out a long groan.

“Thaaaats it, doll~”

You began to bob your head back and forth along his size, gagging each and every time. Your hands gripped his pants, trying not to lose your breath in the middle of the session you impatiently longed for.

As soon as you looked up at Shanks with those “dumb” eyes, like he would call it, he felt like he lost all control. He used the hand that simply rested in your locks of hair to mercilessly skull fuck the air out of you.

Tears streaked down your face, completely smudging and ruining your makeup, but he didn’t care. In fact, he loved the way you’d look after he’d shove his cock far, far down your throat with his own hands. His groans and grunts became more consistent now that he was showing you zero remorse for your mouth and lungs. You tried every fiber in your body to fight through it.

“Yeah, take all of- mmmph~..! All of it in your mouth, princess” He breathed out. You didn’t stop looking up at him with teary, blackened eyes when he shoved every inch into your wet mouth faster than you can comprehend.

Shanks felt his long-awaited climax reach up to his core. He released a loving grunt when he slid your slobbering mouth off his member, a string of saliva connecting your plump lips with his dewed cock. He chuckled, completely in love with your distressed state and how quickly he ruined your caked face. You had saliva trickling down your chin and your chest expanded rapidly while you were catching your own breath.

"Your mouth is pretty with my cum and all, but I wanna dump it somewhere else, doll~"

In a blink of an eye, Shanks threw you back on that dark oak, glossed desk. Your bare breasts and stomach made direct contact coldly, making you shiver and flinch. His calloused hands grabbed the fats of your hips as handles. Your dress was still scrunched up to reveal your lower half—perfectly demonstrating the vast amounts of eagerness Shanks had for you when he laid his eyes on you at the doorway.

You felt the rose tip of his member caress your drenched opening, causing a whimper to leave your slobbering lips. Shanks hissed when the sensation of his hot member made contact with your cunt. Nothing, absolutely nothing, restrained him from him nosediving himself inside of your velvety walls forcefully. Shanks pushed a shriek out of your lips.

“Scream as loud as you want, princess~” Shanks cooed shakily, massaging your bruised thighs caused by the crimson-haired man completely breaking your mind with his cock. Shanks’ thrived on showing you off. Whether it be leaving marks, having you wear the jewels and gifts he gave you, or fucking your brain out in rather populated areas so people can hear your submissive moans and his hungry groans.

Shanks bucked his hips back and forth at a slow pace. He exhaled, feeling entirely pleased now that he finally got to feel your insides from a long, gruel week of waiting. You were all Shanks could think about, besides his rather gruesome occupancy, every week. He’d find himself teasing his wood through his pants at the mere thought of you and always contemplated invading your home just to release his urges. From the sheer obsession, Shanks had for you, an undercover bodyguard would look after you whenever he wasn’t there with you.

Shanks’ speed increased faster than you anticipated. After every stroke, you were rewarded with a sexy grunt or groan by the boss himself. You, on the other hand, were a moaning mess. You felt your own cervix being obliterated by Shanks’ merciless thrusts by the second.

“Oh, doll, you wrap around me so well” He groaned. His heavily scarred hand grabbed a handful of your now entangled hair. He yanked your head up to stare at the entire, fancy, well-kept room and the shut door.

That same door released a knock that was slightly suffocated by the sinful noises coming from both of you. There was no possible way the person behind the door couldn’t hear what was occurring in that office room, not with how loud you were moaning and how loud Shanks was pounding your body.

“Boss? We need the case file of our mission” A voice said from behind the door. You heard Shanks grumble.

He didn’t stop going crazy on your body while he searched the floor that carried scattered files of his targets he wanted dead. They all had one thing in common, but that didn’t matter right now since you both were only focused on climaxing.

“Im-.. fuck~.. Im busy!” Shanks yelled. Not a word was said after that, aside from your messy moans.

Your voice began to crescendo when that knot that was tightly built in your womb was beginning to snap. Your body was quivering before Shanks and he watched with a devious smile.

“Gonna cum, baby~?” He asked, knowing good and well what the answer was.

“Yes, sir… Mmmmph, Im gonna cum~!” You yelped.

Shanks admired your love juices spurting on his pelvis, knowing that he, yet again, made you climax hard and made your brain run blank. It was practically a talent to him.

“Good girl~” He praised, massaging your lower half while he let you ride out your hard orgasm. Shanks didn’t stop, though. You were bound to lose your ability to walk when he was finished with you but that wasn’t newborn at all.

Luckily, Shanks’ own climax was tailing behind yours. How you knew that the crimson man was about to dump his load was when his grunts would become breathless and he’d lightly chuckle from the amount of euphoria you gave him. He’d release one last loud groan, while it being slightly wobbly, and filled your hole past the brim with his seed.

“Fuck, baby~!” He shouted after his last pounding thrust, letting you feel the warm liquid flood your insides. You finally got an opportunity to catch your breath into your shriveled lungs and now worn-out throat.

You felt Shanks pull his huge girth out of your entrance, causing the waterfall of cum to pour out like a waterfall. You let out a long, soft moan when you felt all of the stuffing trickle down from your cunt to your leg.

“Let me get you cleaned up, princess” He smiled. While you were too busy trying to gather your consciousness together, Shanks buckled his pants and wiped off any remaining secretions lingering.

You rolled on your back to lift yourself up once your brain rebooted after being broken silly. Your hand lifted the fold that was scrunched down to cover your breasts and you cleared your throat.

“I’m gonna do my business. You think you’ll be alright being here while Im off?” Shanks himself tried to catch his breath while he picked up the scattered papers on the floor. He threw them beside you on the desk, them now at your reach.

“Of course. Don’t get yourself killed” You giggled. Your statement made Shanks chuckle.

You watched him barricade you with his arms by resting them on either side of the desk you were lovingly displayed on. Your hand was placed under his chin and then trailed to remove a red strand that lingered over his eyes.

“You worry too much, doll” He cooed.

You hummed and had your hand grab the files of soon-to-be deceased victims. Your eyes analyzed the pictures and your expression dropped. Shanks watched, entirely pleased like he wanted you to see what was in that cream-colored folder.

That one thing that they all had in common was that they all wronged you one way or another. Thanks to Shanks’ trusted undercover agent, he was able to pinpoint each and every person, entirely for your pleasure.

“Shanks…” You muttered. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to be flattered or astonished by the files presented before you. You saw the boss pull away and search in his desk drawer.

“I have a gift for you, my sweet (F/N)” He cooed, pulling out something you couldn’t quite make out yet. You expected a new necklace or diamond earrings, but not a glistening gold ring of the iconic gem that was now shining before you.

“I want to marry you. So that now you’ll officially be mine”

His words turned your mind upside down. What was a weekend fling soon turned into an intimate bond that was now formally being promoted to newlyweds. You hadn’t felt this content and safe with someone for as long as you could remember, and it was rather obvious that Shanks had an undying infatuation with you since the incident at the men’s club. Your words immediately birthed the word Shanks anticipated.

“Of course, boss~”

all licensing and ownership belong to eiichiro oda

[lavenderovercast]

Blessed are The Peacemakers summary: Charles sets off to give Arthur a proper burial. warnings: hurt no comfort, mentions of canonical character death, mentions of terminal illness/succumbing to terminal illness, mentions of grieving, burial of a corpse/encountering a corpse, mentions of period-typical racism notes: this is cross-posted to my ao3, click here to read it there! <3 also be nice to me, this isn't beta read and it's a year old :( > this also includes mentions of an OC since this is a gift/part of an AU, but you're free to ignore them!

He had been helping the tribe when word caught up to him. When Rains Fall had approached him with a downcast expression, Charles had felt his heart tighten in his chest with fear. The man had been sitting near the fire that he had set, watching the orange flames and embracing the warmth that blasted against his frigid body. It was October, and it felt as though winter was quickly approaching — especially with the onslaught of rain that had decided to pour down from the heavens. It wasn’t ideal weather to travel in, especially with a group of Natives… But what choice did they have? Their home was taken from them, everything, their dignity included, stripped away callously by cruel men.  Charles had an obligation to help them however he could, and he knew that fact, even if he didn’t feel deserving of such a position. Even if he had felt horribly helpless, only able to watch as these people — his people — continued to have everything taken from their hands. When Rains Fall had approached after they had settled and taken a seat beside Charles, he knew that something was wrong. There was a heaviness in the man’s posture, as though more weight was set upon his shoulders. Guilt racked through Charles at the thought of Eagle Flies, his undeserved death.

“I caught word that Arthur passed.” The words leave a knot in his throat, and rocks in his belly. Charles is silent, continuing to stare down the fire to try and ignore the sensation of the hot tears threatening to escape from the corners of his eyes. He had known it was coming. Arthur was sick, very sick, and you would have to be blind not to notice such a thing. Arthur was once a big man, who stood tall with his head held high. Charles could easily tell you that Arthur’s blue eyes were filled with light, mischievousness, even — in spite of the sour look always planted on the man’s weathered face. 

Arthur was not only well built but the very definition of healthy, once upon a time. Strong, brave, and able to carry out any and every task provided to him. When Charles had last seen his companion, his… His something more, he had been reduced to a hunched-over shell, his body racked with thick, painful coughs that rattled in his chest and shook his bones. Arthur’s skin had become pale, his eyes lost their light and became something dull and sad, not unlike a rainy day, and he had become terribly skinny. Charles knew better than anyone that Arthur could still hold his own in spite of his sickness, but… 

Should he be surprised, really? Charles had known it was coming — Arthur’s death. It hurts to think about it like that, but it’s true. After all, Charles had been the one to assure the man that his illness was not a curse, not completely, anyways. There was a bright side to it, a blessing amongst the darkness being placed upon Arthur. Where the brunette saw his illness as the reckoning that he deserved, Charles viewed it for what it was: a blessing, an honor. 

Arthur had the bliss of knowing when his time would come, and not many people would ever be granted that opportunity. Death was typically quick and sudden, like a bullet to your back or a vengeful gang torturing you before taking your head and displaying you to your own people like a trophy, a mocking image. But Arthur’s sickness? It was something that would grant him the opportunity to do right and be right. Unlike the others that they had watched die, that Charles had helped bury… 

Arthur could make amends with the world and his wrongdoings before the end of it all. He could enter it as a hateful, angry man that Charles did not see within him, or leave it the good, selfless man that Charles did see within him. And he had told Arthur as much. To have used his sickness as an indication of his limits, to decide who he wanted to be during these final days. 

It became increasingly clear that Arthur’s enemy was not those around him, but rather time itself. The man was waging war against an invisible clock and an invisible force destroying him from the inside out, and eventually, he wouldn’t be able to fight either of his opponents anymore. Charles swallows the knot in his throat, and tries to ignore the terrible throb in his heart as he replies in a voice that he’s impressed remains steady in spite of his swarming emotions: 

“I… I see.” Charles manages, but barely. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Rains Fall is quick to reply, a gentle hand placed on the man’s shoulder as if to place emphasis on the truth of his words. Charles can only stare at the fire ahead of the pair, and for a while there’s only the sound of the wood popping and crackling. The silence between the men seems to last an eternity. 

And then Rains Fall speaks again. “The army men. They mentioned Bacchus Bridge — That’s somewhere near where they last saw Mister Van der Linde.” The name fills Charles with rage, and makes him clench his fists before drawing in a shallow breath through his nose, nodding his head to signal to his companion that he had heard the older man’s words very clearly. 

But the statement also warrants a question — if Dutch was seen near the bridge, and only Dutch… What about the others? Charles' mind wanders to his former gang members. Bill, Javier, Nathan, the goddamn snake… … John, Sadie, Abigail, Tilly, Eliza… His heart feels heavy at the thought of each of them, but it aches the most when the pregnant blonde comes to mind. He’s glad to know that if the army men had only spotted Dutch — then there’s a good chance that the others had gotten away — or worse, they could be dead. He tries hard not to think about the second possibility, even though it’s far more likely than the first. 

“No one… No one found him, properly?” Charles questions, the words lingering in the air between them. The unspoken words weigh heavy in his sentence, although they aren’t breathed to life: Has he been buried yet? Rains Fall is quiet for a moment, and then shakes his head no. “Too many men in the area. No one wanted to come near, and I thought I should tell you…” A deep sigh racks the man’s body as he leans forward. “...Since you were fairly close with him. Maybe you’d be willing to do what others wouldn’t.” 

Charles can only muster the strength to nod in reply, in acknowledgment. Because his mind is already made up — he’ll make the trek to Bacchus Bridge first thing in the morning.

The journey wasn’t necessarily difficult, but Charles couldn’t describe it as easy, either. He had departed from the Wapiti camp first thing in the morning as he had promised himself, stating that he would be back in a few day's time. He just had… Unfinished business that needed to be settled. That was an easy way of sugarcoating the truth, of trying to ignore the grief and unsteadiness lingering in his heart as he mounted Taima. The spotted grey and white horse didn’t hesitate to move forward as her rider saddled up, but gave a neigh in his direction — as though concerned. 

All Charles could do was offer a sad smile and pat the mare assuringly on the side of her neck, fingers brushing through her dark mane. And then they were wandering forward, into the forest and away from the safety of the temporary shelter and community. Such a trek isn’t unfamiliar to Charles. He’s had to travel on his lonesome dozens of times before. The man can’t really recall a time before joining the gang that he had company — proper company, aside from his horse. 

Yes, it was true that Charles had gotten himself mixed up with companions and people from these gangs that would travel with him — but their approaches were typically reluctant, or due to wanting something from the man. Never for the sole reason of companionship, of company shared between one another. There were no personable conversations, or simple chores like hunting being carried out. There was always bloodshed, a sense of danger, a sense of fear that you could die — and that you would be left behind by the person who dragged you into said danger. 

Arthur didn’t approach Charles at the beginning of their dynamic. He was tentative, almost nervous, in a sense — which in retrospect feels funny to say, because Charles had only ever seen Arthur as someone bold, maybe even a little rash. Until he dug underneath the surface and worked his way into getting to properly know the man, that is. This eventual closeness led Charles to a conclusion about his thoughts on and toward Arthur:

No, not all of Arthur was good — but there was far more goodness and kindness in the brunette than he would have liked to believe, than he would let himself believe. Charles can still clearly recall when they had found that German family — the way that Arthur had told him that they didn’t even speak their language, so why should they help them? They both knew that these words were a poor excuse for Arthur to continue playing the big bad wolf. 

Dutch’s top gun, his enforcer. The man that would do all the dirty work for Dutch, because he was more loyal than a dog. But Charles knows that this wasn’t Arthur’s true sentiments, because the man’s face wrinkled into a grimace as though he almost wanted to apologize, and he had reluctantly trailed after Charles and the split family. Arthur wouldn’t have put his life on the line for said family, not for a campsite, not for some gold that he didn’t even know about until after the fact — unless he had some goodness in his heart. 

Charles had witnessed men do far worse than Arthur would ever be capable of. Unlike them, Arthur did not lack in his moral compass. Misguided with his decisions, with following his anger? Absolutely. But it could never be said with full confidence, at least by him, that Arthur was truly, purely, awful and evil. It simply isn’t true, not in a world like this. 

Arthur wouldn’t have had people who loved him the way that they did had he no good in his heart, had he put no good into the world. Their relationship was proof that Arthur was capable of good, of loving, and being loved. His marriage to Eliza was proof of such a thing — the blonde had looked at Arthur as though he could put the stars in the sky for her, and Charles was almost inclined to agree with such a lovesick mentality. He couldn’t help it, there had always been something alluring about Arthur. 

His chest feels heavy at the thought. Even as the scenery changes around him, and the sky shifts from dawn to day, back to dusk and then night. The man is trapped with only his thoughts and his silent companion as he travels, trying to ignore the way that the cold grows worse. Maybe it’s because of the ache in his chest, but the numbness in his fingers and the rest of his body makes navigating and moving increasingly hard. But he tries because he has to do this for Arthur and he knows that much. 

Charles can’t help but worry about their other companions. He has no doubt that Arthur would do everything that he could to get John out of the situation, because in spite of the fact that the two constantly butted heads, they were brothers. The man can feel his lips twitching into a sad smile as he recalls a story that Arthur had recited to him when they were up in Colter when they were looking for Eliza. The affection and joy in the man’s voice were clear, and although he did his best to claim that he certainly did not care for the fool named John Marston, his enthusiasm about the story told a completely different tale. 

Eliza is a similar case to John, in terms of importance. He knows that Arthur would have done anything and everything in his power to ensure the blonde’s safety, although he had grown to know the blonde well enough that she wouldn’t accept such a thing. The woman was kind and had a heart of gold, but she was also just as stubborn as Arthur. Their mutual stubbornness often led to their arguments and rifts being placed between one another, rifts that Charles had grown accustomed to stitching back together. 

Not that such a task was very hard. Both cared for each other deeply and with the right amount of coaxing could be talked into speaking terms with each other again. With gentle ‘ I’m sorry’s ‘ and wrapping themselves up in the other. Sometimes it felt as though Charles was a part of the relationship, rather than just affiliated with Arthur through the occasional cuddle or holding of hands when they weren’t in camp, or in a rare case, they were in camp and Eliza wasn’t . Not that Charles would complain when the woman was in camp with Arthur, because he had found that he enjoyed both of their company. 

Especially when Arthur was in that shipwreck. He had become especially close with Eliza, because the pair had leaned against each other, sat alone with a grief that only they could mutually understand while trying to keep everything around them afloat. Charles almost wishes that they could go back to the days in Lakay because even though it was horribly humid and hot, he had enjoyed exploring the swamps with Eliza and that old dog of hers. They’d go looking for plants, because that made Eliza feel better, and it put Charles' restless mind at ease, too. 

Even if Eliza was absolutely terrified of the alligators and would scream whenever they encountered one, it was a peaceful time — it felt like the calm before a storm. And in hindsight, it was. All the man could really do now though, was hope that Eliza was okay. That she hadn’t stubbornly followed Arthur to his death, that the brunette had been able to place his foot down with the loyal woman. That doesn’t do much to ease the part of his mind that wonders if maybe it would have been better for them to go together, though — because then Eliza wouldn’t be filled with the same feelings that lingered in Charles' soul now. 

And John… John was a stubborn fool himself, from what he could tell — although not relatives by blood, John had done very well to take after his older brother. But he had grown better, wiser, with time, Charles had noted. The man had seemed to become someone determined to protect and guard his family from the cruelty of the world, although Charles worried that this change in demeanor may have come too late. He wouldn’t be surprised if the law got their hands on John, and he was back in that damned prison — or put in a similar position to his brother. Charles wasn’t certain of which scenario would make John the lucky one. 

But Charles is certain that the pit in his stomach is only worsening, growing into a blackhole when he finally reaches his destination. It feels strange to see the blown-up bridge from this distance, and even stranger to gaze out into the rocky surroundings and feel a sickening dread that if the rumors are correct, he’ll find Arthur here. Limp, cold… Charles forces himself not to dwell on the thoughts, the potential facts. He puts his focus into trying to find the man if he’s even here. 

Most of the day is spent doing just that. Searching. He rides Taima slow and easy, investigating his surroundings for any animal tracks, or even unusual animals in the area — vultures, small creatures, even canids like foxes or wolves. Anything that would want to get their jaws into a free meal. Much to the man’s dismay, he eventually finds evidence of a fight on a rocky cliffside. This is when he dismounts Taima, and Charles finds himself climbing and moving in a way that feels so familiar, but so unnatural to the same extent.

It’s been some time since he’s left the gang to help the Wapiti tribe, and it shows in his rustiness with physical endurance, with the activities he would often be forced to participate in when he was actively assisting the gang. The cold doesn’t help any, either. The wind blows harsh against his face, and he has a hard time keeping his fingers dug into the cold stone underneath him. It almost feels as though he’s being beckoned away from something. It only makes the man more determined to press onward. 

Charles needs some sort of closure, and he knows that’s part of what pushes him forward. He’s successful in climbing the cliffside, and is greeted by a patch of greenery. Wildflowers are blooming against the green in spite of the weather, but they don’t stop a terrible feeling of nausea from punching Charles in his aching guts when he catches the sight of blood. It isn’t just a little bit of blood, either — there’s enough blood splattered against the grass and stone to indicate that something had happened here, something bad. 

The man wants to chalk it up to an animal’s death, but he knows that this isn’t the case. Not when he sees the imprint of boots against the dirt when he approaches. And the smell — it’s strong and sudden, and although Charles has been among his fair share of bodies of friends and family that he’s had to bury, it doesn’t stop the instinctive urge to gag. A hand lifts to his mouth and nose, and it takes the man a moment to recompose himself as he looks in the direction of the scent. 

He knows what’s waiting for him around the corner, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. Charles stays perfectly still as he regains his composure and sense of gravity, even though his mouth feels terribly dry and he can already feel his grief threatening to re-expose itself. It takes every fiber of his being to muster the courage to continue forward, to make the turn around the giant boulder and let his gaze drift toward a heartbreaking sight.

A body is laid only a few feet away from him, and he knows exactly who it is. Charles would recognize that frame anywhere, even if the person is now far more still than he has ever been previously, than he ever should be. He would know Arthur’s form from anywhere, he spent far too much time watching and observing the man — taking notice of his every little tick and quirk. When Charles musters the willpower to come closer, his heart aches at the sight of disheveled, bloodied and dirtied clothes. He had fought to the very end. 

Arthur’s face is what truly makes Charles want to wail like a child. His skin is pale and bruised, the familiar bags still residing underneath his now completely dull, glassy eyes — no longer is Charles greeted by a familiar blue tinged with shades of greens and yellows, but he’s staring back at something foggy and unclear. The bruises that stain Arthur’s face make him nearly unrecognizable, but Charles would know the man from anywhere and everywhere, no matter how marred his appearance became. His flawed but perfect nose is once again crooked, indicating that it had been snapped before his death. Charles can even see the starting signs of decomposition, bits of flesh now gone to reveal the body underneath. The sight of Arthur is grief-inducing. 

But the worst part of it all is how goddamn peaceful Arthur looks. His eyes are half-lidded and his head is tilted toward the sky, his lips stained red with his own blood only partially opened. It reminds Charles of waking up beside the man in the morning, on the very rare occasion that Arthur wouldn’t be awake before him. But even in his sleep, he had never looked fully at rest. Charles knew that no matter what, something weighed heavy upon the man’s shoulders, an invisible burden that no one, not Charles, not Eliza, could lift off of Arthur. Only death could do such a thing now. 

He can’t help the shuddering breath that he takes in, the way that his eyebrows furrow before a quiet sob racks his body, the sound itself muffled by his large hand against his mouth. Charles can’t bring himself to move and pick up the man just yet, and instead allows himself to finally mourn his loss. The sight of Arthur is a slap to the face from reality, letting it settle in and dawn upon him officially that the brunette man is in fact gone. Charles will never see him again, not after burying him properly. The man doesn’t deserve to be laid here, discarded like crow food. 

When Charles had regained some semblance of his natural calmness, he had carried Arthur to Taima. It wasn’t easy, even with Arthur’s illness reducing him to a ghost of his former self. He was still a big man nevertheless, and the ache that placing his body on the back of Taima had caused in Charles’ chest made everything so much harder. But the man was successful in carrying him, and further successful in riding Taima somewhere suitable for burial. 

It was a pretty spot that he had found. Somewhere small and secluded, but allowed a nice overlook to the miles of countryside and landscape that resided in front of the now midday sky. While the terrain itself was still rocky and somewhat hard to navigate, it would only ensure that only the people that Arthur would want present at his grave could approach. There were even perfectly placed rocks in the exact spot that Charles had wanted to place the man, rocks that would act as a makeshift gravestone and support the sign that the man had felt determined to place. 

Digging the hole was not an easy task. While Charles had made sure to pack the correct equipment for this excursion before he had departed, spending hours bent over, shoveling dirt from the earth to eventually put back into place, over his closest companion was both emotionally and physically taxing. But Charles refused to take a break, dissatisfied with the idea of leaving Arthur unburied longer than he needed to. Even as tears threatened to sting his eyes again, and his hands burned with how hard he gripped onto the wooden handle underneath his gloved skin as he continued pulling up more and more dirt. 

Eventually, he was satisfied with his handiwork and was able to place Arthur into the grave made for him. This time, Charles couldn’t help the silent tears that began to roll down his face as he began to cover the man with the soil and dirt that he had previously dug up. He allowed himself this moment of grief but refused to stop his work. Not until he was satisfied that Arthur had received the final treatment that he had deserved. A proper burial, with a proper grave marker — not a burial where he would be left to the animals and nature. 

That does make Charles wonder, though — was Arthur alone when he died? Was he afraid, wanting someone to hold his hand, to be present for him? Or was he ready for the embrace of the Reaper? Arthur had seemed uncertain, afraid , when the two had their discussion about his illness. Even if Arthur didn’t voice these feelings, these thoughts, Charles was certain that it was how he had felt. He could only really hope that his words had brought some sort of peace to Arthur in his final moments, an assurance that he did the best that he could. 

Maybe Arthur didn’t think he deserved to rest when Charles felt that he certainly did. The man’s line of thought is paused, however, as he stares down at a pile of dirt that now completely covers Arthur. The grave has been dug and built successfully — the next step is to make the gravestone marker, with the wood that the man had brought with him. It’s almost as hard as burying the man, to etch his name into the wood and be reminded of the days that they had spent together, making tiny, intricate carvings into wood pieces that Charles had brought as he tried to pry into Arthur’s emotions. 

Whether that communication of his emotions was via carving wood or actually using his words, Charles never minded. That was because Arthur would look at ease by the end of their session, his shoulders hunched instead of tensed, his posture relaxed instead of on edge. Arthur would look in his direction and a silent thank you would be shared between the pair via one look cast to one another. 

The words come to him naturally, after he’s finished with Arthur’s name. He isn’t quite sure how they come to him, but they certainly fit the man and everything that Charles had known for him to stand for: 

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. 

Burying Arthur had been a task that felt hard, impossible, even. The weight of the duty leaves Charles' body aching for release and freedom from the hard work as he finishes hammering in the wooden grave marker, his eyes carefully roaming the wood and freshly placed dirt for any sign of imperfection. The least that he could offer Arthur after everything was the best, after all. But when he’s finished and determined that there are no flaws, that this is in fact the perfect resting place for Arthur, that’s when Charles finally allows himself to bend down and grieve. 

Hunched forward and squatted in a position that calls for bending his knees, he carefully places his elbows against his legs before resting his head in his hands. A hand lifts to run through his hair as the tears begin, and this time, he doesn’t stop them. He doesn’t try to blink them away, or ignore the horrible ache in his chest, the dull throb now sharpened to something that feels akin to a knife being dug into an open flesh wound. Although his grief is loud, his sobs are silent against the still dusk air. 

Charles couldn’t tell anyone how long he had been sitting there, simply sobbing over Arthur’s grave to the point that his chest hurt and his shoulders ached with the force that his sobs shook his body with. But he could tell you that the moon had made her way into the sky with the stars by the time that his sobs had been forced to a halt, his eyes red and aching — unable to release any more of his emotional turmoil. Charles could tell you that he stood up on shaky, numb legs, and had to tuck his jacket closer to his person to try and shake the bite of the cold wind. 

He could also tell any other living soul that as he was finally making his departure from Arthur’s grave, he was cut short by a large deer. A buck, to be exact. The animal stood a few feet away from him, his head lifted from the grass that he had previously been grazing upon. The pair stared at each other, both equally stunned by the presence of the other being in front of them. Eventually, the buck was the first one to move. But he didn’t move at the pace that Charles would expect a startled animal to, he simply… Turned and walked away, slow and delicate. 

But the man would keep such information to himself, doubtful as he mounted Taima that another living soul would believe in his retelling of his final encounter with Arthur.

[ab--n]

HAAAPY HALLOWSEVE .. I LOVE YOUR ART, IM GOING TO WRAP IT UP IN A BLANKET, PUT IT IN A BASKET AND SEND IT FLOATING DOWN THE STREAM IN THE MIDDLE OF A DARK, RAINY, COLD NIGHT. HAVING TO SAY GOODBYE TO MY BABY (your art) BECAUSE IM BEING CHASED BY A HOARD OF CONSERVATIVES WITH THEIR PITCHFORKS AND TORCHES… MY BABY (your art) WILL END UP BEING TAKEN IN BY SOME POPE THREE TOWNS OVER AND GET RAISED BY HIM, UNTIL THE POPE DOES AND MY BABY (your art) SETS OFF TO FIND ME ONLY TO FIGURE OUT THAT I AM IN FACT DEAD WITH A TOMBSTONE SAYING “Dead Liberal number 1027”. MY BABY (your art) WILL END UP DESTROYING CONSERVATIVES AND SAVING THE WORLD IN MY HONOUR…..

But yea uh happy Halloween :33!!

𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓶𝓮…? 👨‍❤️‍👨

(This is a joke, please,… or is it?)

Happy Halloween to you too Dj!! and no. (To the proposal) As a thank you here's some facts about my fangan cast lol

-Micheal Sebasi(Ultimate Mortician) is unable to leave their hair alone, he as bleached it so many times that at this point, it unsalvageable.

-Sean Denis's (Ultimate Baker) beta designs portrayed him as an albino. (He was shot too once.)

-Khali Abdullahi(Ultimate Meteorologist) is colorblind, she only found this out when she realized that Micheal hair is not in fact piss yellow but light green.

-Momo Ciani (Ultimate Safety Inspector) shouldn't be allowed to touch any animal because that poor thing might die due to his strong grip.

-Nikki Paltrovien(Ultimate mathematician) can watch human centipede without flinching or gagging at all.

-Terrence Alexander (Ultimate child caretaker) was a former gang member and has a criminal record.

-Diana Bahlog(Ultimate Executioner) is somewhat resistant to ingesting cleaning supplies.

-Kiyozi Tomoka (Ultimate Ice skater) is incredibly sassy in his native tongue and has shit talks about the rest of his classmates to his older sister.

-Tophy Anderson's (Ultimate Bassist) bandmates are her childhood friends and helped her go no contact with her family. (She lives with her younger and older brother.)

-Sam Keteron (Ultimate Cheerleader) is completely face blind, so naturally she isn't able to recognize Micheal (or hell a majority of the cast) for the life of her.

-Mia Kunami (Ultimate Biologist) despite being shy and quite timid, is good friends with a lot of people especially Kilan.

-Formelaa Unimo(Ultimate Tailor) is actually my favorite character and I love to write his dialogue whenever I have to chance to.

-Courtney N'dego (Ultimate Soldier) is basically the mother of the group but like... In a teen mom way.

-Saezi Aishaf (Ultimate Unlucky Student) can play piano quite well, just that each time when he wants to play it. The piano is not tuned properly.

-Milo Xidhio (Ultimate Acrobatic) is a bit of hoarder and use to steal stuff from others occasionally. I say they are the most morally gray in the cast.

-Amanda Wiliiam (Ultimate Pop Sensation) has the biggest inferiority complex and sets high expectations of herself to the point where they can actually hurt her. Luckily, she has Her.

-M.K (Ultimate Butler) is indeed a robot similar to MonoBononi but he has free will. So he has a shock collar to make sure he listens.

-MonoBononi (Ultimate Captain of the Blimp) are a single entity but they have two bodies so that monochrome effect can take place. (Sorry if this doesn't sound coherent, I am on painkillers)

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith (Ch. 10)

Chapter 10: Seal of Confession

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: It's been a few weeks since Mike made his promise. You bear the cross he gave you. But following him in blind faith comes with a price.

Warnings: LIGHT SMUT 18+ !!!

Tags: @starry-night-20 @sumsytee  @queerqueenlynn @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse 

AO3 Link

Office of Nelson & Murdock 

7:30 AM 

The sky was covered in gray clouds today. You didn’t mind when the weather was like this, especially on a workday. It made the office feel cozy and set the tone for the rest of the day: perhaps instead of talking to clients and stressing, you’d find other ways to be productive—study case law, organize files, clean your desk. Yeah, you thought. You’d take it easy today. Mindlessly playing with the cross necklace Mike gave you a few weeks ago, you watched the fresh coffee brew. The aroma filled your nose in the most pleasant of ways, and things really did feel cozy today. 

You heard a knock at the door—it was Matt, of course. You tucked the cross necklace quickly into your shirt. He waited patiently with his cane in his hands, head tilted. When you opened the door, he greeted you with a smile. The light in the hall made his red glasses glow. 

“Good morning,” you said. 

“Good morning, __,” Matt greeted as he stepped inside. You shut the door and swiftly made your way back to the kitchen. You grabbed a second cup for him. He leaned in the doorway of the kitchen. 

“How are you?” He asked. 

“I’m well,” you answered as you poured coffee into the two cups. You gently placed it in Matt’s open hand; your fingers brushed. “You?” 

“Pretty good,” he smiled. “I was wondering, before we opened up shop if you wanted to work in the conference room with me? I could go over some case law with you and criminal law,” Matt offered hopefully. “Something to do on this rainy morning.” 

“I’d love that,” you agreed. “That’s exactly what I had in mind for today.” 

“Studying case law?” Matt chuckled. 

“Doing something along those lines. It feels like a very calm day to do so.” 

“I agree,” he said. “Well, I’ll meet you in there then.” 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

Matt set up his laptop and Orbit reader in the conference room. You waited patiently for him to join you. You decided to sit next to him at the table instead of across. You held your hands in your lap, occasionally moving your pencil on your notebook (the one Matt gifted you) in anticipation. No, I’ll put it here. No, actually here. God, it doesn’t matter. Suddenly, Matt came walking inside, holding his hands out to feel for the doorway. He reached for the doorknob and closed the door, leaving a crack open. He smiled behind his dark red glasses and sat in the seat next to you. You scooted your chair so there was a comfortable distance between you both.

“So,” he folded his hands on the table, “let’s begin. What do you know about criminal law?” 

“I know that it’s complicated,” you answered. 

Matt smiled, “right. What else?” 

“Well, I know there are specific elements of crime. A guilty act and a guilty mind. Actus reus and mens rea.” 

“Perfect,” Matt nodded. He cleared his throat and turned on his Orbit reader connected to his laptop. What a neat thing, you thought. He placed an earbud in one ear. 

“And obviously, those elements have elements of their own,” you added. “That’s why it’s so complicated. Crime isn’t just black and white.” 

“Exactly,” Matt agreed, “and getting someone a guilty conviction is harder than it seems, even if it’s clear as day that they’re guilty.” 

“I never understood that,” you thought aloud, “why it’s hard. If the evidence is all there. I get the fair trial and all that, but so many times guilty people have walked free.” 

“I know,” Matt hummed. He tilted his head to show he was listening as he worked on his Orbit reader. 

You couldn’t help but think of Mike during this discussion. What happened when the law wasn’t enough? Well, people like Mike take the law into their hands and show justice on the streets. 

The rest of the morning you and Matt spent in the conference room. He went over each defense of criminal acts in detail. It reminded you of your professors at NYU, but somehow, better. Maybe because this felt like private instruction. His voice was calm and collected—Matt knew the subject so well. You’d love it if he’d been your professor. You could listen to him for hours. Your hand began to cramp from writing so much by the time ten o’clock came around, and Foggy and Karen arrived with bagels. 

“Thank you for that, Matt,” you gathered your notebook and hugged it to your chest. “That was really informative.” 

“We can do it again tomorrow if you’d like,” he offered. 

“I would like that,” you smiled. “Do you need help with bringing your stuff to your office?” 

“No, I think I might work in here the rest of the day. But thank you.”

You left the conference room and greeted Foggy and Karen. You updated them on what you and Matt have been doing all morning. From the corner of your eye, you watched as Matt hunched over the desk and focused on whatever he switched to. His brows furrowed as he listened intently to what his Orbit reader was reading and his fingers nimbly traced braille. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

Matt sat quietly in the conference room all day. Truthfully, he liked the much bigger desk here than the medium-sized desk in his office. There was more room to spread out papers, more room for his Orbit reader, more room to write—more room for you to share the space with. 

He was thinking a lot about his talks with Father Lantom recently. Talks of morals, of doing something he knew was bad but had a greater outcome. Father Lantom helped him so much during the time Fisk plagued the city. He helped Matt understand his purpose and helped him grapple with the realities of what he really wanted to do with Fisk. Simply put, Matt missed him dearly. He couldn’t help but wonder what he’d say about the situation of you. 

Well, Matt’s situation of you. 

He remembered something Father Lantom once said to him about guilt. 

“Guilt can be a good thing. It's a soul's call to action, the indication that something is wrong. The only way to rid your heart of it is to correct your mistakes and keep going until amends are made.” 

Was it a good thing, this guilt Matt had about you? He was guilty of lying. What was it, that you said during your interview here? Something you valued in a workplace? Matt wanted to punch himself when he remembered. You valued the truth. 

If his call to action was to reveal his true identity to you, what would happen when you realize he’s been lying to you this entire time? If telling the truth was what he was supposed to do, how was he to know if you’d leave him for it? 

It was like the more he lied, the closer he could keep you. If he told the truth, you might leave him. Leave him. Not only him, but the firm as well—and Foggy and Karen liked you so much. It would just be another thing for Matt to dwell in his guilt on. Why didn’t he just stop the second time he saw you? Why didn’t he put an end to it when he should’ve? 

He knows why. It’s the same reason why he kept going back to Elektra. You lit something in him, you reminded him of a time he held dearly—his time in college, grasping his newly found skills and putting them to the test. You reminded him of a time when things weren’t so complicated, or maybe they were, but your presence managed to make even the worst of problems seem minuscule. 

Matt wasn’t focused on the case he had in front of him. He could only focus on his case of you. And it didn’t help when you walked into the conference room, reminding him that it was ten minutes to five, and he still had his entire set up at the table. 

“Do you mind if I help you?” You asked. And there you were, innocent as can be, offering to help him. He didn’t care if it was because you slightly felt bad for his disability—it happened all the time—but it was a sweet gesture, coming from someone he knew had the capability of doing anything that was but classified as sweet. He knows what you sound like just as you’re about to reach orgasm, he knows that slight breath you take when he runs his fingers through your hair and pulls you so your neck is exposed. He knows how soft you feel against his fingertips, how soft you will feel tonight when he comes to you again, dressed as the Man in the Mask, Daredevil, Mike—your savior. Yes, you were sweet, but you were oh-so sinful, too. And so was he. 

“Sure, if you’re not in a rush,” Matt finally responded. He felt your presence getting closer to him, your sweet scent engulfing his senses so much that if the two of you weren’t in public, he’d lay you on your back on the conference table right now and kiss you all over. 

But God, what the hell was he doing to you? 

Lying. 

“No rush at all,” you smiled as you gathered his Orbit reader. On your way out, you said goodbye to Karen and Foggy. They said bye to Matt through the window of the conference room. Matt listened as they made their way down into their respective taxis. 

“Well, I guess that’s everything,” you sighed, bag around your shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Matt. Bright and early for our criminal law class.” 

Matt let out a hearty chuckle. “Goodnight, __.” 

“Night,” you replied, walking toward the front door. Matt stood in the doorway of the conference room. You were so close still. There wasn’t anyone around. Would now be a good time? To tell you the truth? 

“Hey,” Matt heard himself call for you. Just as your hand was twisting the doorknob, you stopped almost immediately to his call. 

“Yeah?” 

The hopefulness in your tone was enough to send Matt even deeper into his pit of guilt. 

“I—,” Matt struggled. Why would now be a good time? Was there even a good time to confess something like this? 

“Be safe out there,” Matt gently said, defeated. “That’s all.” 

“I will,” you matched his tone. “You be safe, too.” 

And with that, Matt listened as you walked down the steps and outside, on your way back to your apartment where Matt knew he’d meet you again tonight. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

11 PM

Matt always waited for this time of night—this time of night when he got to be completely himself with you, covered by a mask. His actions were truthful, but his concealed identity wasn’t. And by actions, he meant the way he promised to come to you almost every night, kissed you like it was the purpose God had given him, and held you tight to keep you safe. The only thing was that you didn’t know who he really was. 

He was sure that wouldn’t change tonight. After much deliberating, and the familiar tug of war he always played at night, Matt wasn’t ready. It was comforting to stay in this uncertain haze of keeping you close—it was safer that way, more secure. 

When he heard the creak of your rooftop access door, he moved from out of the shadows and into the dim orange light. Arms at his sides, moving like a magnet to your body. You felt so delicate in his arms; it was a relief to finally hold you at night after eight hours of pretending to not know what your body felt like against his. He breathed in your scent: sweet like marshmallows, with a hint of something spicier, like blackberries. You just sprayed it, Matt could tell. You melted into his embrace, and he felt the necklace he gave you impress on his chest. Something occurred to him, something he had forgotten about: he remembered sensing it on you earlier at the office. 

“Have you taken this off since I’ve given it to you?” Matt whispered in your ear. He tugged at the thread gently. 

“No,” you answered, “I wear it all the time. Under my clothes.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed against your hair. He traced his hand down the length of your spine, feeling your silky night dress melt to his touch. “Under this?” He slid his hand under your dress so he now caressed your back with his fingertips. You shuddered against him; he loved when you did that. 

Something Matt told himself when he was getting into this with you was that he would never let you please him the way he pleased you. At least, not until he told you the truth. For some reason, that was a line Matt couldn’t cross, as much as he wanted to. Sex was out of the question as well—he thought the guilt he felt would grow tenfold if he ever let it get that far with lying. No, for now, the pleasure was all for you—Matt preferred it that way. He loved it. 

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Even when I sleep. When I shower.” 

“When you shower,” Matt repeated, imagining how hot your skin would feel in a steamy shower. He caressed the back of your neck and put his forehead against yours. 

“You should join me sometime,” you chided. You kissed his lips. Matt growled in response. 

“God knows I want to,” he said in a guttural voice. 

“So why don’t you? I can sneak you in. Though I’m sure you’d be able to sneak in even without me,” you laughed. 

He shook his head. “Not yet,” he replied. 

“You’re really good at building tension, huh?” 

“Tension is torturous. At least I find my relief in other ways,” Matt moved his hand from your neck. He ran his fingers along your face, placed his thumb on your bottom lip. He clenched his jaw in an attempt to regain control. You wrapped your lips around his thumb and gently sucked it. Matt wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you tight against him. He could feel your heart beating fast against his chest; it was loud in his ears. 

“How do you find relief?” You asked in a breathy voice. 

“Through you, my angel,” he answered, followed by a kiss. Matt pressed his lips firmly on yours and held the kiss for a long time before he teased his tongue to your bottom lip and you opened graciously. His tongue danced against your warm tongue, an open mouth kissed as the two of you fought for dominance, until Matt closed it again and kissed you hard. You took his hand and placed it over your right breast, indicating him to squeeze. He did, and he lightly kneaded your breast, feeling your hardened nipple through your silk dress in the palm of his hand. 

“My God,” you breathed out, breaking the kiss. “You touch me like no one has before. Like, every movement you make is delicate and I react in a way I haven’t. Not to bring this up but in the past, I’ve just been touched. You feel me, Mike.” 

“I want to feel you. Being close isn’t enough,” Matt whispered, kneading your breast again. He slips his hand underneath your dress so his palm touches your bare skin. Soft. So soft. Like silk. Without hesitation, Matt kneads your left breast and feels your bare skin, both your nipples hardened in the palms of his hands. Matt takes a deep, shaky breath. Choosing sin will only destroy me.

You place your hand over Matt’s right hand and slowly guide him to where he knows you want him to touch you. His hand runs down the length of your silk dress, slowly, agonizingly, until he cups your sex in the palm of his hand. He can feel how wet you are, even through the fabric. Matt runs two fingers over your slit, slowly. Your dress creases in your folds. You mewl when you feel him rub a certain part with delicious pressure. 

“Mm,” you moan softly. Matt has one hand on your sex, the other still holding your breast. 

“I want to hear you again,” Matt whispers. He presses on your sensitive clit and you twitch under his touch. You moan in his ear and fall into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hold onto him as he slowly moves your panties to the side for access to your slick, wet folds. You tilt your head back and close your eyes as his fingers work on you. 

When Matt is about to push both his fingers inside you, he feels a tugging on his black mask. From you. Reacting faster than he can think, Matt pushes away from you and where his touch once was, was gone. Matt’s heart is pounding in his chest as he feels for his almost loosened black mask. You gasped at how fast he pulled away from you. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Matt fires, unable to control his temper. He’s a mix of aroused and completely taken aback by your attempt to take his mask off. A mix that doesn’t react well. 

“I… my hands were right there and I thought—“

“You thought what?!” Matt furiously retied his black mask around his face, away from you. “You wanted to expose me, without me being okay with it? That’s okay with you?” 

“Mike, I—I’m sorry. I just… I let my thoughts get the best of me. Your mask was just there and I was really feeling the moment and I—I wanted to see you,” you pleaded, worry in your voice. Matt couldn’t tell if he could hear your heartbeat or his own in his ears. 

“Well, I’m not ready for that,” Matt shot back. The adrenaline of you finding out his true identity made him shake. He wanted it, but he didn’t want it at the same time. And why was he reacting the way he was? He was scared of you finding out who he really was, and he was angry with himself that this was a situation at all. A situation he got himself into—got you into. 

Just as Matt was about to speak, your voice cuts through the silence. 

“Then stop coming here!” No longer was there worry in your voice like you were apologetic for something you did. The only thing Matt heard was anger to match his, and most of all, hurt. 

“What?” Matt asked perplexed.

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

“It’s not fair!” You shouted louder. “This! Us!” You gestured with your hands, “It’s not fair! I—I wait for you every night on my roof. I lie to my friends and co-workers about who I’m seeing. I lie for you, to keep you coming to me. I—I turn down guys who are interested in me for you. I—I love you—You, someone who won’t even tell me his real fucking name! It’s been weeks and weeks of this torture, all summer, this longing, this game, and if you aren’t ready to show me who you are now, then how can I know you ever will be?” The confession comes pouring out of you like a dam breaking. So do the tears, and you don’t even care if you sound like a blubbery mess. You cry as you speak, in anger, in hurt, in pain. Mike just stands there, mouth agape, face half covered, making sense of your words. 

“You know what?” You said in a much calmer voice. “I’m done.” You find the thread of the necklace he gave you and take it off, throwing it at him. He catches it on his chest, holding the delicate strand by the cross that bears it. 

“I don’t need you to be my savior. I don’t need you to save me from anything anymore. I need to save myself from you, Mike. Whoever you are,” you spoke in a much softer tone, a tone of defeat. Your throat felt tight. Suddenly, the roof felt much colder now. A crack of thunder boomed in the sky. You shivered in the cool breeze and watched as Mike stood there speechless. Did he really have nothing to say? 

Whatever, you thought. It was better that way. 

“Don’t come back for me. Don’t bother coming here anymore. I’m done, Mike.” 

You turn around and head straight for the door. You slam it behind you, and you feel a part of yourself break down for something you’d been doing for too long, a realization that hits you like a nasty slap in the face. One that shattered your heart to pieces. God, you were so naive. So stupid, playing his game for as long as you did. Following him with blind faith. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

You called out of work the next day. You told Karen you caught something from one of your roommates, and you couldn’t keep food down. It was a lie, of course, but you’d be back tomorrow. 

Sitting in your chair by the window that overlooked the city, you hugged your knees to your chest, LSAT books out in front of you. Spending so much time with Mike, the middle of summer crept up on you. Instead of studying like you were supposed to, and preparing to take the test next month, you were waiting on your rooftop for him to fulfill you with empty promises. You shook your head—you hadn’t put your life on hold for a guy since high school. Because of the affair you had with him, you now had to anticipate taking the LSAT in the fall and applying for law school in the winter. You learned your lesson. 

So now, at least you could focus on your goal of going to law school—not the goal of convincing a vigilante to reveal his true self so the two of you could have a future. You scoffed at your wishful thinking. 

Suddenly, a knock came on your door. It was Emily. 

“Hey,” she cooed, “are you okay?” Her auburn hair was tied back in a bun. 

“Yeah,” you stretched your legs and brought your LSAT book closer to you. “Getting ready to study.”

“I heard you on the phone with your boss,” she began, “I know you lied. Is everything really okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you pressed, “really. Just wanted to take a day and get some studying in.” 

She didn’t seem convinced, but you didn’t care. It was so easy to lie. Maybe that’s why Mike did it so much. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

Matt waited for an hour for you at the office. And then it was two. And then it was three. And then Karen informed him and Foggy you got sick—you were taking a personal day. Foggy thought nothing of it, told Karen to tell you to feel better, but Matt didn’t react. He simply nodded his head and closed out his notes on criminal law. He walked past your empty desk and heard papers shift as he walked by. Of course, you wouldn’t be here. Why would you? 

He worried so much you’d leave him when he told the truth. Well, you’ve left him anyway, for seeking it. 

He hasn't stopped thinking about your confession—you love him? Mike, that is. You love Daredevil. The Man in the Mask. Your savior. Not Matthew Murdock. Matt wasn’t even sure it was possible for someone to fall in love with him as Daredevil. Your words, your voice, kept echoing in his head. No amount of boring case law could distract him from your absence. No amount of client files could push away the truth he’s been avoiding this whole time: that Matt loves you too. 

But everything was ruined because of him. At least, that much hasn’t changed. 

[bunnyboybosom]

Lili'a Skydance

[ID: A miqo'te waves at the camera with a smile. He has light brown skin, freckles, and a dark brown cat like nose. Her hair is purple with white streaks and done up in a bun. She is wearing dark armor with grey and red cloth. Beside him is his anima, a clockwork fairy. end ID]

Basics

Name: Lili'a Skydance

Nicknames: Lili (in traditional keeper fashion), Lils

Age: 33 (as of the end of EW)

Nameday: 4th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon

Race: Keeper of the Moon Miqo'te

Gender: Bigender (he/she)

Orientation: Demisexual Biromantic

Profession: Shipwright/Deckhand, Adventurer

Physical Aspects

Hair: Plum purple, with shocks of white due to stress. Somewhat curly when kept short, but when longer the weight straightens it. After waking up after a recent coma, she's unsure whether to keep it long or to make something else of it. In the meantime, he keeps it in a bun or high ponytail most of the time.

Eyes: His left eye is a dull orange, while he is partially blind in his right eye, which is paler.

Skin: Taupe brown and freckled. The tip of his nose is dark brown and textured (like a hrothgar).

Tattoos/scars: He tattooed female keeper markings on his face to match her parents (and as a statement about his gender). He has a claw scar over his right eye, left by a chocobo when she was younger.

Family

Parents: Bru'li of the Dancing Wind (left), Liligan Skygazer (right)

[ID: Three miqo'te are present. The first has long, wavy lavender hair, light brown skin, and a tattoo of a seabird on their arm. He is grinning as he pets the head of the second miqo'te, Lili'a. Lili'a looks happy, but a little embarrassed. The third miqo'te stands behind them. She has purple hair tied back with a scarf and her skin is grey brown and freckled. She looks at her family with a fond smile. end ID]

Siblings: none

Grandparents: none that he knew of.

In-laws and Other: n/a

Pets Special Mention: Lobelia, his anima! Having significantly less aether than when she learned arcanima, with Gerolt's help Lobelia was created to help Lili'a channel her aether more effeciently with far less risk to depleting his own.

Skills

Abilities: Lancework, jumping (like, really high), arcanima, alchemy

Hobbies: Hiking, journaling, swimming, climbing up to places he probably shouldn't

Traits

Most Positive Trait: Curious and Adventurous

Most Negative Trait: Shortsighted

Likes

Colours: Yellow! yellow is his favourite colour, especially strong yellows like dandelions. Bright blues and greens too, they remind him of the ocean.

Smells: ocean air, rainy weather, turmeric

Textures: sand/soil, hempen cloth

Drinks: Rum and coke, milk and honey, ginger tea

Other Details

Smokes?: no.

Drinks?: socially. able to hold his own, too proud to admit that she'd get wasted after a couple more.

Drugs?: hasn't considered it.

Mount Insurance: His chocobo, Quiver! She was frightened of getting a chocobo at first, but was so incredibly happy when Quiver seemed to accept her. The two are inseparable (and incredibly high energy).

Been Arrested?: she was arrested in ishgard under false claims, fortunately (with help from the scions) she was let free soon after.

---

Tagged by @cindernet-explorer (thank you :D)

Tagging @cindernet-explorer (show me vyra! :3), @iron-sparrow, @dreadwyrmz, @nagunkgunk and anyone else who wants to join! (no obligation to respond)

[lilith-little-world]

Sneak Peek of Chapter One(?) Pt. 2|| The Isekai’d Oracle

I know I haven't posted anything for a while. Got super busy, did a ton of research, and had slight writer's block. Yesterday I finally was able to write something only to have a... cooking accident. I'm fine just burn my hand from some boiling water and a slight cut on the other. Doesn't hurt and the red mark from the burn went away.

Anyways I don't know if I want to keep this in. Feels like it's too out of place since it's should be all from the reader's perspective but I do like how we see from the other’s point of view. It feels refreshing to not have all of it in the reader's. It also keeps you guys wanting to read more. Since few of the other characters know more than the reader, yet are somewhat clueless about the oracle's plans for this so-called good ending. So it kind of balances each other out, hopefully.

Also, I watched S4 and holy shit. Mei’s a thousand-time grandfather is hot. I want him.

It was a rainy day. Dark clouds consumed the skies, thunder shaking the world. People continued on with their day, not letting the rain stop them from their tasks. Mk and Mei playing around at the restaurant, messing with Tang. Pigsy tries to scold them for it but was too busy making noodles. Sandy watches from afar drinking tea since the storm had made the waves too out of control for him to stay on the boat.

The demon bull family stayed back home and kept their distance away from the city and heroes. After their embarrassing defeat. Macaque hides in the shadows waiting for the storm to pass. While Wukong relaxes at the temple, hoping that the storm won't cancel today's training.

It was a normal day so far.

Yes, nothing new or life-changing. Everything was peaceful. Then there was the blast.

In an empty street, sparks of a dull peach color form in the middle of the road. Until slowly turning into a small golden ball of energy. Catching the attention of the passerby.

Getting brighter and hotter, the ball of energy exploded. Blinding the street in golden light. As the shockwave shot through the city, shaking the ground and clearing the skies.

Buildings shook, people and objects fell, and cars swerved or came to a sudden stop. The once busy and loud city was silent for a moment. Not knowing what that blast was, especially for the gang.

“What was that?” Mei asks, clinging to a chair to steady herself.

“Maybe it was an earthquake?” Tang said questioningly. Not even believing it was that simple.

“No, it's not.” Mk states, staring at the entrance. Any joyous expression pushed off his face. That amount of energy shouldn't have shaken his soul like that.

It made him anxious.

“Then what was that?” Pigsy shouts annoyed. Picking up the noodles from the floor.

Mk stayed silent. That energy was familiar, yet he couldn't wrap his head around where he felt it before.

“I don't know…” Those words didn't feel right coming from his mouth. He sighs before pushing those feelings to the side.

“-BUT, I'll just ask Monkey King. He knows everything.” Mk said with a smile. He shouldn't worry too much about this after all. He can't lose his cool in front of his friends.

“You look stressed bud, here, have some tea.” Sandy gently pats Mk's back, giving him a cup.

“I'm fine honestly, that earthquake startled me.”

“Aww, don't worry Mk.” Mei wraps her arms around him. Giving the young man a rather tight hug.

“It was pretty scary, and out of nowhere. At least no one got hurt, right?” Mei smiles trying to cheer up Mk.

“Yeah, at least no one is hurt.”

However, he wasn't the only one shaken. Far from it. How could they? When their last encounter with the oracle was less than pleasant. No, they rather forget about the incident.

Iron Fan pulls out a small withered box. Time had worn down, and the fragile container.

“Are you sure about this? Was that blast from that spirit?” The Bull King asks.

“Yes, my love, no matter how many years pass. I will always remember that energy, even though it's a lot duller.” She takes off the cover, finally seeing the contents.

Few pieces of paper, with dates and instructions. Neatly stacked and tied together with a red ribbon. She pulls out the small paper that sits on top of the stack.

“Sorry for not making it interesting, especially when I made you wait so long to open it. There isn't anything impressive in the bag I gave you as well. Just some clothing and a few accessories. Hope you two are doing well. Remember, follow the instructions precisely, if not, I'll get very upset!” Iron Fan reads out loud the note.

“She’s vague as usual.” The Bull King mumbles outs.

“Aren't all seers and oracles? For being able to see the future, they like to be mysterious, it's their whole gimmick.” She takes out the stack of papers, ready to follow the oracle's Instructions.

“How do you feel about this? I haven't forgotten that reaction from earlier.”

There was a slight pause in her actions.

“I'm fine, it's all in the past, but best if we follow the instructions she gave us. We don't want to have another outburst.”

“Seers are truly unfortunate beings.”

Iron Fan stayed silent, sadly agreeing with her husband's statement. Luckily, from the notes that have been written. It seems there wouldn't be an outburst. Relief washes over her, letting out a sigh. The Bull King stood close and placed a hand on her shoulders.

Then it left the two mystic monkeys, who didn't know how to react. Yet concluding on the same action. Staying far away from the oracle, but for different reasons.

Macaque sees the poor woman as a bad omen and rather ignores it.

Wukong, on the other hand, thought he was the bad omen. Convinced that if he shows up, it will end badly for her. This time he won't help her. It was for the best. Wukong truly believes that she is strong enough to survive and complete the task she needs to do.

“Good luck little oracle, may your journey be painless and uncomplicated, this time around.” He said softly, before closing the door behind him.

Not daring to look back at the city or her.

[spinningbuster98]

The Metroid Prime Remaster

Welp! I played it! So here’s my personal thoughts

I think everyone knows by this point that this is mostly a face lift of the OG, meaning that structurally it’s the same game. This means that any issue you might have had before will still be there, like the Artifact Collecting. Personally I’m fine with this, as the game is very honest with what it is, it’s not a Remake.

However there are a few new options, such as settings for people who are Color Blind, the option to turn on or off the Pal Narrator, and of course at least 4 different control options: Dual Stick, Gyro, Classic and Hybrid (a mix between Classic and Gyro). I’ve only tried out Classic since that’s the one I’m most familiar with, and it’s....mostly fine. I immediately noticed that movement felt looser than in the OG, causing me to “slip around” and make inprecise jumps. Thankfully you can adjust the sensitivity in the options so I was able to recreate the feel of the OG controls much better, though they’re still not 100% precise, around 90% on the way there.

I’ve seen people whining about the Y axis controls being reversed....and yeah they are....but there’s an option to revert them back guys XD

As some have already pointed out there is a sort of delay with the charge shot, if you keep holding the button you will first shoot a couple of shots before actually charging (with the exception of the Ice Beam). This wasn’t the end of the world and it’s relatively minor but I still hope they patch this

But enough about this, we all know what we REALLY wanna talk about here

The graphics

This is honestly the best looking Switch game I’ve seen, it genuinely looks like a PS4 title. Yeah some textures are pretty simple when you look at them up close, and you can sometimes tell that this is actually a 2002 game, but it’s still goddamn impressive, especially since it runs at a consistent 60 FPS, no drops whatsoever!

However I wanted to adress something that I’ve only seen few people talk about. Yeah the game is really pretty, but does it preserve the original’s atmosphere?

Because here’s the thing: remasters and remakes often have the bad habit of screwing up the OG’s aesthetics in an attempt at making the game look prettier, usually by messing with the lighting. Some famous examples being Sonic Adventure DX with its brighter-than-the-sun lighting and plastic characters, or the 3DS remasters of Ocarina of Time and Majora’s Mask.

Prime Remastered is generally more colorful than the original, and brighter also. And yes I do believe there are a couple of instances where this messes up a little the look of some parts of the game.

An example being Flaahgra, who is now too brightly clolored for a corrupted, poison producing monster plant, or the Hive Mecha Room, whose green fog effect is too saturated. Anothet example are the leaves throughout the Chozo Ruins: in the OG they were a dull red color, indicating they were rotting, but here they’re bright orange.

However I believe the game is mostly careful in preserving the original’s atmosphere.

The Tallon Overworld certainly emphasizes its greens, giving its natural setting a stronger feel, but on the whole the picture is still “greyed out” due to the overall rainy atmosphere, just like in the original.

The brighter oranges of Magmoor Caverns emphasize its “hotness” pretty well.

The Phazon Mines are still pretty dark looking and now Phazon is more bioluminescent than ever, emphasizing the area’s neon-like atmosphere

Phendrana was mostly unchanged from the original in regards to lighting I found.

Perhaps the areas that received the biggest makeovers were the Space Pirates’ labs and frigate: the areas are now brimming with a new cool-blue color pallette generated by all the computer screens and force fields, though they’re still quite dreary looking at points. I’m of two minds here: on the one hand it sorta changes the OG’s atmosphere quite extensively here, but on the other it replaces it with something that is still pretty effective in a way, as i think this serves to emphasize the areas’ more cold and sterile feel (they are laboratories where amoral genetic experiments are being performed after all), and naturally their Sci-Fi flavor.

In general I’d say the game knows when to crank down the brightness, sometimes even more so than the original

The room with the dead parasite queen on the Frigate is noticebly darker here, making it moodier, and the room with the Omega Pirate is generally darker, letting you mostly see its phazon spots, and with the area lighting up in response to attacks

I genuinely believe these two instances (and others) add to the OGs atmosphere!

However even the original had many instances when in wanted to be more bright and colorful, to emphasize the beauty of its locales, and the remaster does an absolutely outstanding job here, with completely new assets, particle effects galore, and plenty of “light beams coming from the sky” kind of shots giving places like the outdoors of the Chozo Ruins, Phendrana, and especially the Underwater Frigate (which made my jaw drop) an almost heavenly feel!

When it comes to graphical details many from the OG’s Gamecube release are kept and even enhanced, like the after effects of each beam’s charge shot, water droplet that not only fall on your visor and arm cannon but actually trail downwards or upwards depending on the curvature.

In the original there were some jet streams that didn’t fog up your visor, like the ones in the depressurization room on the Frigate, but they do now.

The Space Pirates on the Frigate have missing chuncks of flesh and are bleeding (though for some reason some of the ones you find already dead don’t have this feature, weird)

Not only can you sometimes see flashes of Samus’ face, but for a split second she will be looking at whatever direction you’re aiming at

The Ice Beam doesn’t register on the Thermal Visor, but the Plasma Beam appears bright yellow

The lava in Magmoor produces heat waves

When you enter a bright area from a dark one the brightness level will initially be higher before being toned down, to give the idea that your eyes are adjusting

There’s a lot more here. However there are also some details missing strangely enough

Your beam shots don’t light up hallways anymore

Some light effects are missing

The mirrors in the Chozo ruins don’t reflect your image anymore (though they do reflect thye rest of the room which is something the OG didn’t do)

The scar on Tallon IV visible at the beginning is far smaller for some reason

In the room with the two big broken test tubes that used to contain two Parasite Queens the left one used to be covered in lots of green slime that formed a trail leading to a big open vent, indicating that that’s where the Queen you fight came from. Here there’s far less green slime giving a much less clear visual message

While you can still see Samus’ arm with the X-Ray Visor you can no longer see its blackened silouhette for a split second when switching beams

There’s more, and it’s a shame but for the most part I’d say the original’s sense for attention to detail is kept and even enhanced.

Some enemies have also received some slight redesigns which....are not bad but I tend to prefer the originals, like the adult Sheegoths having “angry looking eyes”, or Meta Ridley being slightly more organic. They’re minimal, so I don’t have any big issues.

For some reason on Normal Hive Mecha shoots the same number of Wasps for each phase, only on Hard does it correctly mimick its original behaviour which is weird.

 The Log Book entry for the Metroids has been modified to specify that they’re TALLON Metroid, a new variant born from Phazon Mutation, which is a nice touch.

The Wasp Hive on the ceiling of the room with the Incinerator Dron is now scannable, nice.

So is this the definitive version of Prime? Depends

The multiple control options and the better graphics are enough for most people. I think this is probably the best version to date overall though still not 100% definitive, due to those litle snags regarding the controls and those few instances where the atmosphere is not quite up to snuff with the original, and the missing effects.

Still this is overall one of the best remasters I’ve seen, especially in an industry where the word remaster is often synonimous with “half assed”. There was lots of genuine love and effort put into this and for this it should absolutely be commended.

Please give us Prime 2 and 3 as well Nintendo, you dirty money goblins! Releasing the Trilogy most likely one game at a time when stuff like the Crash Nsane Trilogy exists...

Also no Fusion Suit, can’t wait for the DLC :^)

[starseungs]

➳ remember the mornings. hjs

pairing: han jisung x gn!reader

You don't exactly remember when the warm, comforting nights full of love you used to share with Jisung became such cold, empty hours of darkness. All you knew was that somewhere along the way, it just did.

genre/s: angst, boyfriend!jisung, hopeful ending(?)

warning/s: verbal fights, break ups, mentions of drinking, invalidating feelings, being unable to sleep, just pain, light swearing

wc: 2.2k

note: this fic is inspired by clinton kane's song "remember the mornings" i just had to make an angst for it *evil laughs*

2022 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Rain wasn't something you used to pay close attention to, the phenomenon only seeming normal and mundane in your everyday life—yet, the sight of its continuous waves crashing on to the surface of your car's windows made a deeply buried ache inside of you awake once again. 

A feeling you did not appreciate in the midst of being under the pitch blacked sky carefully splattered with dozens of twinkling stars.

Normally, the view of such an interesting portrait would be appealing to you, especially from the safety your car provides, shielding you from the depressing dampness of the rainwater. But at that particular moment, you just could not care for the sight of a rainy, starry night. 

It was another night where you would be losing sleep to the worries that plagued your mind; hence, you impulsively got out of your apartment—simply wishing for a quick drive to try and get your mind off everything weighing you down.

And even with such desperate measures, you find yourself regretting ever attempting to flee the confines of your home.

"Damn it," you cursed through gritted teeth, trying to stop the tears from escaping your burning eyes fueled with frustration. "Everything reminds me of him."

Him.

The one and only Han Jisung—someone who, once upon a time, you referred to as your forever. 

Oh, how much of a joke that was. The sentiment was easily shown just by seeing your present state.

You don't exactly remember when the warm, comforting nights full of love you used to share with Jisung became such cold, empty hours of darkness—the stinging reminder of regret clawing at your mind until the early hours of the day. All you knew was that somewhere along the way, it just did.

In the same way, you learned to hate the night, the rain, and everything else that you once used to associate with him.

Was it fair to do it? Perhaps not, but the pain you acquired from indulging in a relationship with Jisung was enough to make your rationality waver, slowly getting blinded by the torment.

You were blind enough to still feel wronged. Blind enough to resent everything that had to do with his image. Blind enough to remember. Blind enough to still affect you. Blind enough to make you feel as if you were gradually losing your sanity—

Blind enough to still love him.

The thought enraged you beyond belief. How could you betray yourself like this? Jisung had no right over the way you lived your life, so why were you unconsciously letting the mere thought of him do?

You couldn't help but punch the steering wheel at the bitter truth, releasing the sound of your car's horn throughout the void area. "This is ridiculous," you muttered, examining the location you had stopped in at.

How you wanted to go back home.

Whether the definition of that home is your eerily silent apartment, or Jisung's arms—you could not give a single damn. All you wanted was to be back in a home where you belonged, where everything was safe and sound.

And maybe that's why you ended up where you were.

It was a familiar setting, one you knew all too well. You watched as the tall trees softly swayed in the rain's wind, effectively letting the droplets they had collected on their many pairs of leaves fall down to the already wet soil. In the middle of nature's performance was a fairly wide clearing, beautifully framing the skyline view of the city in its resting hours.

The spot was sentimental to you—albeit regrettably due to the many memories you had made with Jisung there.

But you could never bring yourself to hate the place, even if you had already managed to do just that to practically every single thing you used to connect to Jisung's love.

Especially this damned car.

This car saw it start and witnessed the end. It was in this very space where you and Jisung shared your confessions, where the first admittance of strong affection occurred, and where your two hearts combined.

Ironically, like some sick joke, it was also this very car that heard all the problems you both had, all the arguments, and the slam of the passenger's door when it all came down to an end.

It was for that same reason that you had wanted to get rid of it, hoped to send it away—as if the hurt and feelings you still held towards your heart's previous handler would disappear along with the wretched vehicle.

So why can't you do it?

Why were you still here, in a place you used to share with Jisung, in the car that saw you both through it all?

"I don't know," you whimpered silently to yourself, finally allowing the tears to freely cascade down your face, like seeps of color making their way to stain a fresh canvas. "I really don't know..."

You couldn't take it anymore. The suffocating ache of lying to yourself just wasn't worth it anymore. 

"I miss you, Jisung."

How you desperately wanted him to hear your cry. That maybe in doing so, he'd come back, and you'd be home again.

Your break up was admittedly avoidable. And it greatly shames you to think that you lost something that could've been saved in the blink of an eye. 

Would it have made a difference if the two of you just decided to give it another chance? If only the two of you had decided to use more patience, would it not have ended in hatred-filled glances?

These were questions you desperately craved answers to, and it took your all to not ring him up at every possible moment.

It was utterly embarrassing that you still awaited a call from him even now, a few weeks after your breakup. You were so humiliated that you expected every single notification you would receive to be from him.

Again, you ask yourself if it was worth it for you to start the communication—but your pride had swelled up way past the maximum for you to do so. Such a foolish concept, yet one that you find yourself tightly bound by.

Finally feeling the parade of your salty tears come to a stop, you felt the need to look at yourself through the rearview mirror. 

You never knew the sight of your own eyes could inflict such a piercing stab at your heart. A sensation you felt just because the sight that greeted you wasn't the same deep brown you adored so much on Jisung.

That reminder alone tore you into shreds.

It wasn't hard to remember that, like any other relationship, there was a time between you and him where your story was going smoothly.

And it all started at a college party. 

You recalled the way Changbin begged you to attend the gathering, saying all sorts of things just to get you to show up. 

"C'mon! It'll be fun!" He whined while laying down on your dorm bed, "Me and my friends are going to DJ, so can you just support me through maybe 3 songs?"

The roll of your eyes was missed by Changbin's tantrum, one that severely reminded you of a child you once babysat for your neighbor. But he had a point—it was going to be their group's first time getting a DJ gig, so why not?

"Fine, I'll go."

At your acceptance, he jumped out of bed right away, tackling you in a massive hug. "Thank you!" He cried in an exaggerated manner. 

If you never attended, then maybe you wouldn't have ever met Jisung. He was part of the trio Changbin was in, and proved to be a skilled asset to the group. It was pretty obvious by his performance that night that he was confident about what he was good at.

A trait that you found extremely attractive.

So, with the newly found courage you had, courtesy of some drinks you had consumed earlier, you headed towards him once he stepped off the make-shift stage.

"Hi," you attempted to flirt, "You were really cool up there."

Jisung gets visibly flustered by the sudden compliment and shifts awkwardly. "Oh—uh, thanks?"

Sure, you were drunk—but not that drunk to completely ignore the guy's discomfort. You still had proper manners, after all.

"Am I making you uncomfortable? I'm sorry if I did," you apologized quickly, sobering up at the situation. "Changbin actually invited me tonight to watch you guys, so I wanted to give compliments."

Not a lie, but not the entire truth either. Your friend was literally up on the stage just before Jisung did, and you definitely did not make any attempt to congratulate the man.

"It's fine, don't worry," Jisung cleared his throat. "You're really good-looking, so I got caught off guard… Do you want to get some drinks?"

You raised an eyebrow at his comment, watching as the tips of his ears turned red under your judging stare. After confirming that he meant no harm, you smiled.

"Sure."

Things progressed naturally from there, with the two of you spending far more time together than you did with your other friends—something Changbin took the liberty to make fun of.

You couldn't blame him though, because in the span of another few months, you and Jisung finally got together to make it official.

The relationship lasted for 3 years—one that your now joined friend group rejoiced about. Wedding roles were already being called dibs on, even the title of godparents if you ever decided to raise children.

If only they knew that it was all going to go down the drain halfway through your third year of being together, coming in the form of a petty argument.

"What I'm just saying is that I want to spend more time with you, Jisung… It feels like I've barely seen you these days," you argued from your place in the driver's seat.

Jisung scoffed. "I already said I had a lot of deadlines for songs lined up, okay? I'll give you attention once it's over."

"I don't even want constant attention; I just want to hear from you," you said as you gripped the steering wheel. "But the only way I could have any updates at all is if I bothered you to send one. It's literally just one update every two or so days, you're not even trying!"

"So what if I'm not? Does that really matter?"

You audibly gasped, taken aback by his harsh words. "Of course it does! We're in a relationship, we're supposed to care!"

"Then screw this," he said, removing the seat belt holding him down. "If you can't even respect my job, then what's the point of being together?"

"Jisung what—that's not even what I meant!"

"Let's talk some other time, Y/N," were his last words to you before slamming the car door shut.

You gaped as you watched his form walk away through the rearview mirror, not once looking back. What was once a relationship full of love turned sour in a matter of days, allowing no mercy for you to catch up.

Had he just progressed forward too much out of your reach without you noticing? Were you left behind in time for him to end it with you so quickly?

Everything was just fine a month ago, the two of you still adoring each other's presence in the kitchen where you both cooked meals. The passion was still there in the nights where he held you close, your ears hearing the soothing melody of his heartbeat.

Well, clearly that was gone now—along with the rain you had just cursed earlier.

The sky had finally cleared, albeit a lot brighter than you had imagined. Checking the time on your phone, it read six-ten—but your surroundings were still relatively dark, the only source of light being the loud brightness of your phone screen.

Directing your eyes back to the cityscape, you noticed the sun silently peeking up from the horizon. 

It must be sunrise now.

You remembered another reason you and Jisung loved this place—it was the perfect site to watch the sun announce its arrival. These were the few mornings you actually enjoyed. Flashbacks of memories come back to mind, making you smile softly.

It was such a short-lived reaction, though, because it dissolved the moment you saw another car pulling up in the same clearing. One that was awfully familiar.

At the sight of its dark-colored exterior, your eyes widened in surprise—quickly followed by a messy attempt to remove the seat belt strap from you with your shaking hands just to get out of the car.

And it seems that the driver saw you as well, because he was out of the car in seconds, as if greeting you could not wait any longer.

"Y/N?" 

The two of you stared at each other with such intense emotions, both frozen in your tracks. It was clear that the two of you had not expected to see each other at the place, although you really should have considered the possibility.

"... What are you doing here?" Jisung's soft voice echoed through the clearing of the area, the rising sun being witness to your sudden meeting. Your breath hitched at the sound, bringing you down to reality with a crash.

He's here.

Just like how you remember the mornings.

mastertag 🏷️ : @h0neydewmoon @straydestiny @lhskokoro

[moonbaby26]

Title: What the Heart Wants

Pairings: Young!Shota Aizawa x GN!Reader

Summary: You were a young hero in training, living in the United States. And when your high school offered an exchange internship to one of the hero agencies in Japan, you were first in line. But the last thing you expected was to fall for another of their young hopefuls.

Notes: Story features the other dumbigos as well. It’s implied that this story is just the reader reminiscing, and that the reader and Aizawa have been in an established relationship ever since.

Warnings: Mention of blood and a little battle damage, otherwise just superpowered teenage friends being pretty wholesome honestly.

My Masterlist

——————————

The first time you’d ever met the now pro hero Eraser Head, he hadn’t been much more than another teenager in over their head so much like yourself.

Back then you hadn’t known how to say no to anything either. While most of your classmates had been taking the typical internship offers from your state’s local hero agencies, you’d heard about a new exchange program abroad. And of course you’d jumped at the opportunity, anything to set yourself even one hair’s edge above the amazing competition.

Your Japanese had been terrible too honestly, so much so that you’d almost been afraid to speak for fear of ridicule once you reached Japan.

Luckily, the hero you were assigned to, Stunner Man was fluent in several languages. And his quirk was something akin to fireworks from his body at will, like a human flash bang. It greatly complimented your own quirk of consuming light energy to then expel it as energy blasts as well.

For the first few jobs together, you’d likely grown too confident and complacent because of this. It was all too easy to replace your own energy by drawing in that light from his fireworks. Sometimes to the point that all around you went dark, before then expelling the energy again as concentrated blasts from your hands to help incapacitate the small time villains you both ran across.

But then had come that rainy night and reports of a much stronger villain taking out actual teams of heroes somewhere downtown. Multiple agencies had responded to this of course, but your hero had been adamant about you staying behind. This was real danger he said, and it would be unheroic to let your desire for success blind you to your own inexperience. You would be a liability in the main battle, and you could be just as valuable assisting firemen and police in their efforts to evacuate the nearby apartment buildings instead.

Of course you were obedient, and so there you’d been, running up the stairs and through the corridors as fire alarms blared and people cried in panic in these high rise buildings. You’d put on your best act of confidence, directing the scared people to exits, asking them to mind their neighbors. You told them not to push, to please help those that were elderly or disabled, and that it would all be all right. Surely it would be because so many pro heroes were now on the job.

But just as you were almost done clearing the last floor at the top of that building, a terrible crash had sounded from far down the hall. Maybe debris breaking through from the nearby battle? You were cautious enough though to make sure that the police and firemen safely exited this floor entirely with the last civilians before you went to investigate.

You would make sure no one was left behind, that no one was hurt or trapped. But as you’d rounded the corner, in a glitter of broken glass and blood, that was where you’d first seen Shota Aizawa…Eraser Head.

He was only a sidekick you thought immediately though just from his age, so similar to your own. Yet he was already trying to get back to his feet even as you called out to him. The hole he’d come through in the large windows and the cracked wall around it were letting the rain now blow fiercely inside.

“Get back!” He’d yelled right back to you in Japanese however. As if he wasn’t losing blood all over the floor as you did pause brief enough to hear an odd humming sound outside even over the rain.

It was reflex of course. He hadn’t even been facing you, but the way he tensed you’d assumed what was going to happen only that fraction of a second before it did. Before whatever villain had just thrown him through this window attacked again, you’d used your energy reserves to make a shield of light between Shota and the broken windows and wall.

The blast that came through the hole had likely been intended to finish the boy. As it was, it still exploded violently against your force field, the recoil sending pain through your arms as you’d dug your boots into the floor beneath you as much as you could just to keep from being knocked backwards with the force.

You wouldn’t be able to take another direct strike like that without gathering more energy. And in the confusion as the blast did dissipate, you ran forward, grabbing the boy by the wrist. “Come on!”

You only saw the surprise in his reddened eyes for just a moment, the first time he’d really looked at you. His shaggy black hair was dripping on you from the rain before you both ran together.

“It’s going to get dark. Just hold on to me and trust me!” You spoke as you pulled your goggles down from off your head to cover your eyes in mid run. The goggles were a support item developed especially for you. In darkness you could switch between night-vision and thermal imaging to allow you to still see when your opponents and even teammates could not. And when you used your light abilities to discharge energy again, the opacity of the lenses darkened instantly to keep you from being blinded by the brightness of your own quirk as well.

As you both ran, you activated your quirk to draw energy from the artificial lighting in the hallway. True to your word, the whole hall became almost pitch black in short time. Your skin darkening to an inhuman shade as well as you used your power, a color akin to the lightless void now around you as you led him to a stairwell in the center of the building.

“Will the villain follow us in?” You asked as you closed the door, but making sure not to absorb all the light of the stairwell as well as you could still hear people making their way down to evacuate below. You knew you couldn’t stay in this place long. You had to protect these people you had already been trying to rescue as well. But information was always crucial to having a better chance at victory, and you needed anything that the boy could tell you quickly now.

As you lifted your goggles back up in the light of the stairwell, you were already trying to assess his wounds as well. But when you realized he was just staring at you, you finally made eye contact with him again just before he spoke.

“He’s more powerful out in the open.” The boy said. “So I don’t think he’ll follow us inside yet. But you’re assuming I’m a hero?” He sounded somewhat surprised? But the way he was looking you over, he was also trying to discern your quirk even in his own confusion.

“You told me to get back when I found you in the hallway, even though you were hurt.” You saw now that most of the blood was coming from his lower abdomen. A puncture wound maybe? “Who else would worry about others even when being attacked themselves?”

You saw his eyes widen a little at the sort of compliment, but you kept on. “And I’m sorry if I’m hard to understand. My name is (Y/N). I’m from the United States. Part of the intern exchange. I’m working for Stunner Man right now.”

“I can understand you.” He admitted. Though still looking at you in that odd way. “My name is Shota Aizawa.” He paused, seeming a little less confident, before he admitted his nickname. “Codename Eraser Head. I’m interning from the UA with His Purple Highness.”

“Oh,” You said, impressed truthfully, as that school’s hero course was obviously world renowned. But from the quizzical look you couldn’t help but show at his codename, he clearly had already discerned your next question.

He answered before you could ask, but even as he did you could tell he was already steeling himself for your disappointment. “I can erase others’ quirks just by looking at them.”

“You can…what?” You stared helplessly, for a moment almost forgetting your training to always be cool and collected as you tried to fathom what on earth this boy could really mean.

But he just stared back at you, was he that surprised at your reaction?

When he said nothing more, you had to shake away your shock to press further. “I’m sorry. This might be the language barrier again, but I need you to explain that to me please.”

Hero work could lead to unexpected team up situations at any time. And if this was to be one of those times, you both needed to know what you would be dealing with.

He frowned slightly, like he was having to talk more about himself than he was comfortable with. But he did comply. “If I activate my quirk while someone is in my direct line of sight, it inactivates theirs. But I can only do it for so long. Once I blink, or the line of sight is broken, their powers will come back.”

Silence hung between you for one long moment after his admission, and you could sense the tangible unease building in him.

You didn’t mean to make him jump either when you just blurted out. “That’s amazing!”

You still didn’t yell, but it was loud enough to be unexpected. But you couldn’t help it. You’d never heard of such a quirk. How could anyone be so powerful to make someone else quirkless just by looking at them!?

And why the hell did he look so self conscious about this? “You can’t be this modest. How are you not believing me that this is amazing!? I bet you only got thrown in here then because the rain obscured your vision, right!?” Your voice was quickening with your excitement. Your strategies to victory also readily multiplying in your brain. You could make a shield of light to push away the rain and Shota could look at the villain to make them helpless, then you could take them out with a subsequent light blast!

“My quirk has no offensive merit.” He deadpanned.

“Not every quirk has to!” You retorted, but maybe yourself now finally starting to understand a hint to his self conscious nature. “There are always multiple ways to win! Don’t they teach you that at UA?”

“We need to get moving,” He grumbled still in resistance to this subject. “People could be being killed out there.”

He wasn’t wrong you knew, as you nodded. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to gather information.” Which fair was fair as you tried to keep your own explanation as straight forward as you could.

“As you saw, my quirk is that I can absorb visible light energy. It doesn’t matter what kind. I darken everything as I absorb the light around me. I can store it inside myself, then discharge it when I’m ready, to make force fields for defense…or light blasts for offense or distraction to blind opponents.” Like everyone though, there was always still a catch as you continued. “But the weakness is that once I’ve discharged what I have, I’m tapped out until I can absorb more light. Which, at night in a rainstorm like this…there’s not much to be had.”

He was mostly stone faced as he listened to you though. But there was an analytic sharpness to his eyes, like you were inputting information into a human calculator before abruptly he tried to walk back away from you as if to continue up the stairs.

“I have a plan then,” He announced quietly, his back already to you again.

As much as you somehow believed him already though, you grabbed his hand before he could get much farther. “And whatever that plan is, we still won’t be much help to anyone if you faint from blood loss.”

It was obvious he was someone not used to being touched, you could tell that from the instant way he stilled and looked back at you.

But you didn’t weaken at the stare, only offering him a slight smile. “I’ve been trained in emergency first aid as well. There are first aid kits all through this stairway.” You’d passed them on the way up. “I’ll be quick, alright?”

————————————

The logical side of him must have won out that night in that stairwell. He’d known you were right about at least stopping his bleeding. But that was the real beginning you thought. This odd relationship that would keep its hold on you both for so many years to come.

Him, still so skinny then and self conscious, quiet and awkward as he’d sat on one of the stairs, holding his shirt up so you could clean and disinfect the wound just above his belt while you kneeled in front of him. Luckily the injury was not as deep as it could have been. Just too wide to close or clot on its own as you’d wrapped his abdomen with the appropriate bandages after cleaning out the debris.

And you kept your word, you still weren’t negligent of your duty as a hero in training even then. You didn’t waste any time at all, being as quick and efficient as you could while working on him. But even if all your training told you to also keep your mind on the mission at hand, you’d still felt that warmth in you.

The intimacy was practical, professional. But it still had its effect as you’d run your fingers across his abdomen to finish securing the bandage. You felt him tremble just for the slightest moment, and then it was over. His shirt was back down and he was standing again.

He’d only muttered a quick “Thank you,” as you’d both headed for the roof to execute his plan.

And still only being teenagers then, the clumsiness of your yelling and waving to attract the villain’s attention again would be something you’d both have been embarrassed about now. But at the time, you’d really both done rather well considering your low experience levels.

That villain of course hadn’t been the only villain that night. The main heroes had had their hands full with the other, stronger one at the heart of downtown. This one had been more like the sidekick really, just trying to keep on the outskirts to run interference and keep even more heroes from joining the fray for his boss.

He’d picked off Shota earlier he thought, so he was easy to get worked up when he realized Aizawa was now back for more.

But that villain had drawn his power from the difference of electrical charges in the air. Obviously then at an even greater advantage over the two of you with the thunderstorm above. But the trick had only been avoiding his electrical blasts, but drawing the light energy from them enough times to eventually surprise him with a big enough blast in return.

There’d been a few miscues of course, as well as you using your shielding to protect Shota all the while trying not to get hit either before you could finally land that big enough return hit to stun the villain. Then Shota binding him up in his scarf like weapon and removing the enemy’s quirk long enough to deliver a decisive knockout kick to the villain’s head.

It was your first ever victory as a team.

—————————————

And it’d been a bit of a whirlwind afterward. The congratulations and acknowledgement from your respective heroes for the small, but positive role you had both played of course. But more personally for you, you had owed so much to one of Shota’s best friends you had met immediately in the hustle and bustle afterward.

Oboro Shirakumo, otherwise known as Loud Cloud had been there immediately, ecstatic to hear the story of Shota’s and your success. His extroverted and effervescent personality such a direct opposite to Aizawa’s quiet nature. But Oboro had been the one seemingly so excited to learn you were from the United States as well.

He’d insisted that he, Shota, and their fellow UA student and other best friend, Hizashi Yamada (codename Present Mic) show you the real young hero life in Japan before you would leave again in the coming weeks.

Without Oboro’s intervention, there was likely no way otherwise you would have gotten to see the shy Aizawa so many times again after that night.

As a group the four of you had gone to malls, out to eat, and to see the touristy sights you likely never would have gone to alone. They didn’t even make fun of your bad Japanese, well not seriously anyway. Hizashi did a few times, but in a way that had you laughing with him as he teasingly walked you through a few pronunciations you’d butchered yet again.

On your last night in Japan, you’d been feeling a little sad really though as you’d wished you had gotten to speak to Shota a little more one on one. Even though he’d accompanied you all on your excursions together in those few weeks, you still had noticed how little he really talked and how often he seemed to always be looking away from you.

In the end you just had to think you were being silly for the way you’d felt in the stairwell with him briefly that night and how often you’d thought of him ever since. You’d probably never see him again you knew.

That night though you’d all gone to a park together that met the beach and ocean. Oboro was insistent that you needed to see the view of the sea there before you flew back to the United States the next morning.

Oboro had made one of his clouds, taking just the two of you up high into the air. As Shota and Hizashi still on the ground grew smaller and smaller, you did look away to the horizon and the starlit ocean beyond. It was beautiful of course.

But what Oboro said next, made you forget all about that view entirely.

“He likes you you know. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.” The blue haired boy said as if it was as simple a truth as saying the sun would come up tomorrow.

Your head turned immediately, just to see Oboro smiling at you in an almost conspiring way. “And you feel the same don’t you?” He asked you. “You look at him the same way he looks at you.”

“He doesn’t look at me!” You blurted, stupidly protesting as if your stomach wasn’t already trying to tie itself into a knot.

But Oboro just laughed, that genuine, happy one you’d heard from him so many times already. “Well he knows what to do with his eyes doesn’t he? He has practice. Of course he doesn’t let you catch him staring!”

So many emotions ran through you at once then. Embarrassment at your naivety, sadness that you still had to be leaving the country regardless, shock that this could even be true, and….frustration that you would just be being told now!?

“I’m leaving tomorrow, Oboro. Why would you even tell me this now!?” You asked somewhat desperately, but still keeping your voice down in your escalating panic.

He raised his hands innocently, yet unafraid of you either way. “Hizashi and I have been encouraging him as much as we could to speak up, but Shota is like those stories where an unstoppable force meets an immovable object…but in this story both are Shota!”

You stared, the absurdity only mounting at his words.

He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed then. “He’s quite stubborn is what I mean? And he says it’s pointless because you’ll be thousands of miles away. And I said that’s what phones, email, and video calling are for! Of course conversation is not one of his better skills…”

“Oh, man” You sighed, yet trying to think in your nervousness. “Did he send you to tell me all this? Or does he even know we’re having this conversation right now?”

The boy just shook his head. “He didn’t tell me to, and I didn’t ask his permission, no. He would have only told me not to. But sometimes heroes have to do what heroes have to do, right?” A kind look overtook his face again. “I want to see him smile sometime. He actually has a nice smile you know. I think I’ve seen it all of twice,” Oboro joked.

And it was true, it’s not like Shota was cruel or anything. But he didn’t smile, he didn’t laugh. It was like he was always afraid to perhaps. You weren’t really sure yet. You hadn’t known him long enough. But surely Oboro and Hizashi had. You should at least be able to trust that they had made a correct assessment of their friend’s feelings.

“Well…” You hesitated. “If I told him I wanted to stay in contact…do you think he’d actually call or write me?” You looked at Oboro imploringly, unsure if it would hurt more to try this and be rejected later anyway if you still never heard from him again.

“I can only promise you that we’ll try to keep him from screwing up if it’s only his fear that’s holding him back. We all have to overcome fear in one way or another if we’re going to be pros one day.” He smirked then, before looking a little more boastful. “You know, when Shota, Hizashi, and I graduate, we’re going to start our own hero agency. I’m sure by then if you wanted to come and do some more work in Japan, we could make a space for you too. I’d be a bad manager to turn down foreign talent you know.”

He did seem so sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’ll talk to Shota. But, whatever happens, thank you for trying to help either way.”

Oboro gave an exaggerated thumbs up with, what honestly you were guessing was his best imitation of an All Might type grin. “Of course! Plus Ultra! Always!”

———————————

It was something how quickly Oboro and Hizashi got themselves out of sight, now just you and Shota on the beach together. Yet you suspected they may still be in earshot somewhere in the distance. No doubt painfully curious of how this would go and silently cheering their best friend on.

At first you were afraid that Shota was angry actually, the way he’d visibly bristled, shooting his friends’ quite unhappy stares before they’d left as he fully realized what was about to happen.

But he didn’t ignore you, nor did he look away from you this time as you got closer to hopefully speak a little more privately. “I’m sorry if this is…weird.” You started awkwardly. “But I don’t think you should be too hard on your friends either. It’s obvious they really care about you.”

Your foot was kind of shifting in the sand. Nervousness still flowing freely as you just kept on. “But I’d still like to hear it from you…if you’re wanting to keep in touch. If you want to get to know me better, I’d like that…so…um-” Ah, this would be awful at any time, but stumbling over words you’d only recently learned made it all the worse. “So is it true, Shota? Do you want to keep talking after I’m back home…maybe I can come back again though…I’d like to see you again…I really would.”

He was silent at first, but he was clearly listening. Intently, as if analyzing your every movement, your every word.

But it was painful how long you had to wait for a response. Surely it wasn’t really as long as it felt though before he finally responded. His voice surprisingly even, almost emotionless?

“You’ll be a successful hero if you keep to your studies and training. I find it unlikely that you wouldn’t be able to start at any agency of your choosing in the United States once you graduate.”

A huge compliment to be sure, as you stared at him in surprise. But what did that have to do with the subject at hand? Was he trying to avoid your questioning entirely?

Yet his eyebrows lowered before you could interrupt as he kept on. “So I don’t understand why you would ever want to come back to Japan longterm where your reputation would have to be built back up again just to get equivalent job offers to what you could attain already in the US. The one instance with capturing the villain at that apartment complex isn’t enough for top placement at the agencies here in Japan. Especially without UA accreditation on your record. You would be putting yourself at a disadvantage to be here. It would be a mistake for your career.”

You could swear you almost heard a groan from somewhere in the distance. If you’d put your goggles on now, you were sure you’d probably see Oboro and Hizashi hanging on every word, wherever they were hiding to eavesdrop in the dark.

But your brain was also quite busy trying to digest the most words you’d ever heard from Shota at one time. Was this his excuse to reject you more lightly? To say he was only thinking of your career?

Of course he was under no obligation to feel anything for you. You knew there were certainly those with more powerful or interesting quirks than your own, or people more physically attractive. You weren’t anything amazing in your own mind compared to all the potential superstars you interacted with on a daily basis back home.

Yet if he didn’t feel how you did, you wanted to hear it outright instead of buried in a confusing way like this, and you couldn’t help but admit so then. “So you think I shouldn’t ever want to date you because it could make me spend too much time in Japan and not become as famous as I could have been otherwise? Nice that you assume working at a top tier agency is the only thing I would care about for my future….”

Perhaps you did come across a little harsher than you intended, but the way his normally tired looking eyes suddenly widened in shock had you realizing you had definitely brought some sort of emotion out of him at last with those words.

“You…wanted to…date me?” He uttered the words as if he never would have expected that combination of syllables to ever leave his mouth.

Well, you never would have been so forward if you didn’t feel he forced your hand with that strange insinuation of saying your personal choices should all be tied to a need for future fame and fortune.

You put one hand on your hip, trying not to sound as dumb as he was making you feel in this moment. “Well, not like tomorrow or anything. We’d need to get to know each other some more of course. But yes, I thought about it a lot these last few weeks. But if you didn’t like me like that, then friends is fine. I was hoping that was what we were going to talk about here. If you…liked me like that or not.”

Oh Lord, was this high school like it should be or was this elementary playground kind of drama? You didn’t have enough experience to be any more adult about this. But it was a yes or no type of question wasn’t it? Either he felt some sort of interest and attraction like you did, or he didn’t. You just needed to know.

“I…think you’re talented. And capable.” He said, like it was taking so much just to do this.

It was maddening somehow though. Could he not just say he felt nothing if that was the case? Was he so afraid of hurting your feelings? But honestly, he didn’t seem the type to ever mince words either. “Shota…” You tried. “You know you don’t have to worry about sparing my feelings. All you have to say is that you’re not interested. I’m not some delicate flower.”

Yet, you were starting to feel guilty yourself. Maybe this was all wrong, trying to force him out of his comfort zone too much. You should just take a hint right?

When he still said nothing more, your stomach finally sank as you stepped back from him a little again. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to know the truth, so I didn’t have to worry wondering later. If I’m not your type that’s okay. I appreciate you taking the time to try and talk to me like this.”

Oboro must have been wrong. That was all it could be. His friends had seen something that wasn’t there, and then pushed it this far in a sincere, but misguided attempt to help their friend.

But the let down still hurt. In the span of a short time, Oboro had gotten your hopes up and then they’d crashed down again. You’d been able to admit your feelings to Shota, just for it to end up as one sided.

Or so you thought.

You started to walk away, not wanting to be further embarrassed if the disappointment in your face had really started to show.

But you froze as soon as you felt his shockingly quick hand grab around your wrist. The memory of you doing the same to him in the apartment complex flashed through your mind.

“I didn’t say you weren’t my type…not that I’ve had a type before.” He spoke, but not in his usual even tone as you looked back at him.

And that was likely the very first time you’d ever seen a little bit of fear in his expression. He was still holding your wrist tightly, but it was like he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how to express whatever it was that he was really thinking.

“Eraser really is that bad at this! Just run with it, (Y/N)!” Hizashi’s voice boomed in the distance even if he was only partially using his quirk. The vibration startling you both as Shota immediately shot a death glare in that direction, his hair levitating as he activated his quirk as if trying to lock on to Present Mic even in the dark.

And you couldn’t help it then, slipping your wrist out of Shota’s grip at his distraction, but just as quickly clasping your hand warmly around his own instead as you used your quirk to absorb some of the ambient starlight. It created a dark spot on the beach between the two of you and the others, just enough that Oboro and Hizashi would no longer be able to see. Though Shota would still be able to see you as you chose to take a risk, leaning in enough to kiss his pale cheek.

His hair fell back down at that very personal touch, the red glow also leaving his eyes as he looked back to you.

But you couldn’t read him then. You weren’t sure at all what would happen.

Yet he was still human wasn’t he? Even as stoic and calculating of a person as you’d ever met, he was still human, and still young then with that touch of recklessness you all had deep down.

And when you felt his lips touch yours not long afterward, it was as clumsy as could be expected for teenagers. But you didn’t care at all as you easily returned the kiss.

You knew immediately then that you would be coming back to Japan as soon as you could. Your goal was still to be a pro hero, but it didn’t really matter where.

A true hero’s spirit came from the heart. And if your heart ended up in Japan…who were you to tell it no?

———————————

(End for now. ❤️ I will likely write more of this pairing, but not sure of how soon. Thank you for reading!)

[deareddie]

≈ (medicine) if it inspires you? :)

did someone say fluff? more specifically, sickly sweet fluff that barely even fits the prompt?

(ao3)

It's been the kind of week where it feels like the sky might never clear. Perpetually gloomy, casting shadows in all the places the light normally reaches so easily, and making the entire city appear in some kind of desaturated haze. The kind of weather that makes a person want to hole up inside until nature has righted itself again; hide behind closed doors until the dark clouds retreat from overhead.

So, that's exactly what Eddie is doing.

Rain pounds on the roof of the house as Eddie stands there in the kitchen, but the warmth radiating from the pot he's stirring at the stove chases away a bit of the damp chill that seems to have creeped in from outside. He breathes in the rich scent of the spices; lets that thaw the parts inside of him that the storm has taken over too.

It's days like these where Eddie searches for comfort in the mundane. Where he especially appreciates how soft his socks are on his feet, or the way the sweater he's wearing is ever so slightly too big, the excess fabric bunching up around his wrists and attempting to shield every inch of him from the cold. He settles into a state of relaxation and lets the world carry on beyond the walls of his house without him, just for one day.

Something soft brushes up against his ankles, another source of comfort breaking through the grayness of the afternoon.

He looks down at the mass of striped brown fur twisting in between his legs, staring up at him with wide, black eyes.

"Yeah, it's a gloomy day, isn't it?" he muses quietly.

The cat just blinks at him in response.

"Am I interrupting something?"

The familiar voice drifts in from the doorway, sounding amused at the sight of Eddie's one-sided conversation. He doesn't have to turn around to know who it is, not with the way the room seems to brighten at the edges simply because of his presence.

Eddie smiles to himself, feeling lighter already. "We're just discussing the weather."

"Deep in conversation, huh?" Buck jokes.

"Oh yeah," Eddie says. "She's very talkative if you get to know her."

"I bet," Buck laughs.

He pushes off of the doorframe with a smile and moves closer, settling into place behind Eddie to press a kiss to his clothed shoulder. He himself is wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, all other skin exposed to the chill, and Eddie marvels sometimes in the way Buck radiates so much heat, even on the coldest of days. Never needing to worry about blankets or sweaters.

Though, he supposes the sun never needs warming up either.

"What are you making?" Buck asks, leaning closer to get a look at the inside of the pot.

"Soup," Eddie replies. "My abuela's recipe. She used to always make it for me when it rained like this, said it was the best medicine for a bad day."

Buck hums, hooking his chin over Eddie's shoulder. "Is it working?"

Eddie nods. "So far." He reaches to turn down the burner, the heat dissipating as he puts a lid over the pot. "Now, it needs to simmer."

Buck steps back, deciding instead to push himself up onto the counter beside the stove, tilting his head down to smile coyly at Eddie. "You know," he starts, reaching out a hand to tug Eddie closer, "I can think of another cure for a bad day."

Eddie laughs. "Oh, can you now?"

Buck nods, grinning. "Uh-huh."

He places a gentle hand on Eddie's jaw to pull him in for a kiss, smiling against him as their lips meet. The touch is soft, and sweet, pushing all concepts of rainy days and discomfort from his mind as warmth spreads from every point of contact; Buck's hand on his cheek, the other on his hip, their lips slotting together the same way they've done a hundred times before. It envelops them completely, until it feels like all that exists is their little bubble inside of their home.

That is, until the cat hops up onto the counter as well, and wiggles herself between them.

They break apart with a laugh, Eddie reaching down to scratch behind her ears as Buck smiles at the two of them; cheeks flushed and looking wholly content.

"And to think," he says smugly, "you never even wanted a cat."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I still don't." Buck gasps quietly, covering the cat's ears with his hands. "The only reason I got her was because you convinced me to. That, and Christopher begged."

"Well, someone's gotta keep you company when I'm not around."

Eddie laughs. "I prefer you."

Buck grins. "Don't let Eleanor hear you say that," he warns, glancing down at the striped body in his lap. "She's sensitive, you know."

"Somehow, I think she can handle it."

Mindful of the small animal between them, Eddie carefully slides a hand around to the back of Buck's neck, pulling him down to press their lips together again and relishing in the feeling of the soft, amused curve of Buck's smile beneath his own. It brings with it the exact feeling of contentment that he'd come to the kitchen in search of, driving away the dark, dreary feeling that had surrounded him when he first entered the room.

How long they kiss for, Eddie can't quite say, but when they do eventually part, he notices a small patch of sun beginning to peek out from behind a cloud.

He smiles. Trust Buck to carry the light that chases away even the most stubborn of storms.

"You know," Eddie begins, catching Buck's eye to convey his sincerity, "I wouldn't need a cat to keep me company, if you were here all the time instead."

Slight surprise flickers across Buck's face, melting into a barely-contained grin as he registers the words. He lets them hang in the air for a moment, mulling then over with a smile, before tilting his head teasingly and saying,

"You like the cat, though."

Eddie chuckles, dropping his head down onto Buck's bare shoulder. "I do," he admits, glancing back up. "But you make a better conversationalist."

Buck nods. "That's true," he says, then pauses, his expression turning slight solemn as be rolls his bottom lip between his teeth nervously. "Are you sure?"

"Wouldn't ask if I wasn't," Eddie replies, taking Buck's hand in his own, squeezing it gently while he forms his next few words. Quietly; sincerely, he says, "This place is better with you in it."

That same bright smile breaks out on Buck's face once again, barely containing his excitement at the prospect of becoming an official part of this home. Eddie feels his own heart beat a little too wildly in his chest at the thought; at the future suddenly spreading out in front of him, crystal clear.

"Okay," Buck agrees, and Eddie can't help but smile back. "Okay, let's do it." He kisses Eddie once, briskly, pulling back slightly to add, "We're keeping the cat, though."

Eddie throws his head back, laughing. "Alright, I think I can agree to that."

He moves back to his place in front of the stove with one last kiss to Buck's lips, opening the lid as the rich smell of the broth swirls into the air. Buck slides down from his perch and locates the cupboard full of bowls without needing instruction; deeply familiar with the house, an essential part of it long before they put it in words.

They sit down for their meal as the rain dies down into a soft patter against the shingles, a peaceful soundtrack to their quiet conversation.

A single ray of sunshine filters into the room through the open blinds.

Eleanor meows happily.

[kuroos-moon]

≫ Incomplete

pairing: miya atsumu x reader

tags: lovers to exes, fluff to angst 

warning/s: cheating, angst

wc: 1.8k

part two: complete

You were always a pair, Atsumu and you; not in the way he and Osamu are, but in the sense wherein the weather didn’t decide for him whether his day would be gloomy or not, for the vibrance of his day solely depended on you.   

The sun could shine into every dark nook around him, and yet brightness is only blinding to him if you’re nowhere to be seen in the light. On the other hand, even if heavy rain decided to soak his shoes and clothes, the sky a single color which is a boring gray, the world through his eyes—is nothing but warm, glowing, and euphoric. 

And as he stares back at your lit-up eyes through the thick shower of rain, hearing your hearty laughter above the weather’s unforgiving noise, he realized that you are his world after all. 

Years later and you’re rooted even deeper from wherever he stood, in fact, you had easily become his home. It mattered none that you still don’t live together, it mattered even less that your relationship was kept secret all for the sake of your privacy. What truly mattered to you both, was the unbreakable trust you had in each other, the very trust that made your love grow and last this long.

“I’ll miss ‘ya, don’t forget to eat on time, okay?” Though hooded, strands of his disarray blonde hair still stuck out cutely, and you busy yourself by pushing back his hair as if it were important right now. 

“Y/n,” he sighs, taking both your small, shaky hands in his warm, big ones. This is hard for him too. 

He scans your face, having memorized how your brows would furrow above your teary eyes, how your lips would quiver and your hands would shake before you cried—he knew that this parting would involve much of your tears yet again. 

“I’m fine, I- I’m not gonna cr- 

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, sobs already erupting from your throat as he pulls you into his chest, an arm tight around your waist while his other hand rests behind your head, securing you to himself. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he softly mumbles, head dipped down beside your ear as he rocks you gently along with him, he always hated having to leave you after such little time spent together.

The bus ride to the hotel four towns away from where you lived was excruciating. You weren’t overdramatic when you cried earlier, he never thought that of you; it’s just that your time for each other had greatly been narrowed down to phone calls and irritatingly short meet ups, he understood why you were so sad. 

And whose fault is that? His subconscious asks almost instantly.

Come to think of it, it’s always you who had to alter your life around his. Of course, he didn’t just think of it now, but only right then did it hit him that your relationship had gone too imbalanced for he doesn’t know how long—it made him sick to think that he could ever do that to you.

You were both givers in your relationship, but lately all he’d done was take. 

Resting his chin on his palm as he stares out the window, flashbacks of your years together played beautifully in his mind, his eyes closed and a small smile on his lips. Today was a Wednesday.

He’ll be home by Friday if he’d be lucky enough to ditch their manager and the celebratory party he couldn’t really care less for, not compared to you. If not, he’ll see you Saturday morning. 

Either way, he knows he has to purchase the ring on Thursday night.

He goes over his plan, excitement rushing through him as he visualizes how happy he’ll make you; and he’ll give all of himself to make up for the tears he caused you when he was too busy to make you feel like you weren’t alone. 

For starters, announcing your engagement on Sunday morning after proposing on a Saturday date night, and just to flaunt, he’ll post his favorite picture of you both in his socials. Well that’s assuming you don’t refuse, it’s highly unlikely anyway.

Next, he’ll offer you his undivided attention. No more passing out in bed right after practice and missing the chance to see you, no more relying on the fact that you’ll wake up whatever time he calls or comes over, insensitively disrupting your sleep or plans for the day. 

Lastly... moving in has been long overdue. With your engagement out to public, there’s no reason to have separate houses anymore. Just the thought of cradling you whenever he wants to, no longer needing to travel and be cautious, has him almost bouncing on his seat.

He’ll be the best husband, and he knows you’ll be an awesome wife—did I say wife? He’s getting too far ahead of himself. His teammates only look at him weirdly as he covers his face with both hands, an inexplicable muffled scream of fluster leaving his lips.

Plans were beautiful, especially when he meant to fulfill them with all of his heart and with all of his being. Small things lead to big changes though, for better or worse, he just wishes he went home right away that night.

You awoke at dawn on a Saturday to a car pulling up outside your house. Still clueless of the world as you’re fresh from sleep, mindlessly looking through your window, immediately brought to your senses when you see their manager’s car. 

Racing down the stairs and past the door, you could almost scream in happiness when you see him get off the car. But something’s weird, he looked out of it from where you stood on your doorstep, and he had an arm around Hinata’s shoulders as the latter supported your boyfriend who couldn’t even walk straight. 

“Hey, what happened?” You’re quick to wrap an arm around him as you took Hinata’s place in guiding him to your home. 

“Shoyo?” He too, seemed out of it. He looks at you with sad eyes, almost as if he came bearing bad news when in fact you’re so grateful he brought Atsumu to you.

“Something happened, y/n.” 

That was all the orange left you with but it didn’t really matter much to you, you’re far too preoccupied with taking care of Atsumu. 

“Why did you even drink a lot,” you scoldingly say under your breath, hands cupping both his cheeks so he would finally look at you. “What’s wrong, ‘Tsum?” 

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps, swatting your hands away before he stands up and walks past you, shakingly running his hands through his blonde locks in frustration.

“What is it?” You ask, hurt by his rejection and his tone. He wasn’t always the nicest person, but to you, he’d never as much as raise his voice or snap at you like that ever since he matured after highschool. 

“I’m sorry,” he turns around, and you only look at him in confusion.

“I- I kissed someone else,” he softly says without warning, as if it were something casual and painless.  

“What?” 

You never thought that he would be capable of doing that to you, in fact, you understood that he was kissed without him wanting to be kissed—the problem is that he kissed back. He could’ve easily hidden it from you, yet you both knew he couldn’t live with it. 

On his knees before you as you sat on the bed, he cries on your lap as you lightly run your fingers through his hair. The world for you both came crashing down, he could already feel you slip through his fingers at every apology he sobbed out, his chest aching so much as he forces himself to wake up from this nightmare. 

He never woke up though, because it bitterly wasn’t a dream. Glancing up to look at you through his tears, he knew he had shattered you beyond repair—a single night was all it took—when all of more than five years together, he had spent nurturing you with so much care and affection. 

What agonized him the most was the void look in your eyes, he had destroyed what you both had, and deep down he knew that it will take eons if not forever for you to love someone else. If only he could take away your hurt, if only he hadn’t done what he did, if only he went straight home to you. 

“What now, ‘Tsum?” You ask him, lost and almost dead inside, but you still had the heart to hold him against you because truth is, this would be your last night together. 

“Be happy and go on with your life,” he lowly says. Contrary to how his words held meaning of parting, he hugs you even tighter to himself. 

“Without you?” 

He almost chokes at the lump on his throat, but he had managed to be firm with his resolve—it’s the least he could do for you. 

“Yes. Without me,” he says the words he never wanted to say, kissing your temple when you cry once more into his chest.

You were always a pair, Atsumu and you; not in the way he and Osamu are, but in the sense wherein one could never be without the other. 

So what becomes of a torn-apart pair? 

What you had was something you both would call shatterproof to an extend beyond bounds, but what you didn’t know was that when shatterproof things do what they aren’t ever expected to do—when they do break, tear, and shatter—everything else crumbles as severely as how strong the ‘unbreakable’ was supposed to be. 

You’re just two souls who had become one, now separated and agonizingly partial and incomplete.

You still read two zodiac signs and leave space for him in bed, taking into account years of him suddenly sneaking in your room to sleep beside you and getting up before you even woke. You’re stuck in a cycle of always thinking for two and not only yourself, in every decision you make or thoughts you thought over, at the back of your mind, you’d wonder what he would think about it or what he’d tell you if he were still with you. 

And as he stares back at your lit-up eyes through the thick shower of rain, hearing your hearty laughter above the weather’s unforgiving noise, he realized that you are his world after all. 

To Atsumu since your parting, his rainy days were just that—rainy. Even in nice weather he could only lock himself alone in his room, praying that you were enjoying the sun unlike him; for every little detail of his life revolted back to the thought of you, like how he’d stare longer at his hand, almost imagining a translucent image of your fingers slipping through the gaps of his. 

The ring he had bought? He kept it hidden in his shelf, and for as long as he’s alive he’ll keep it as a painful but much deserved reminder of a life with you that could’ve been. 

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh @dinablossom @haru-the-secret @strayczennies @lalisbitch @tinymidgetsstuff @animebs @astrealia @kittykitkatstrawberry @hajimesbbygrl @kellesvt @24hr7dysdizzy @arnxldss @elianetsantana @vicassa @floraraine @beanst0ck @leinnah @kageyamasgirl @deafeningart @minibobabottle   @franko-pop @moonlightaangel @throughtheinterstices @micasaessakusa @dixonsbugaboo @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @ultzuko @yappychan @dipsydoo542 @devilgirlcrybabiey​ @bakugohoex​

[bisexual-buck]

It's raining here today so any rainy day headcanons for 118 fire fam?

YES! I actually slipped a little bit of it into my buddie fic— cold hands, warm hearts— but I’ll drop some more stuff below! ☺️🌧

When it rains, Buck loves to open the blinds on all of his windows in his apartment because he loves the shadows that the rain rivulets cast into the apartment.

One time during a thunderstorm, he sat cross-legged on his counter and stared out his window while he sipped on some hot chocolate. He definitely didn’t slip off the counter when he went to get down.

In my buddie fan fic world, if they have the day off, Eddie will come over and cuddle with Buck all day.

At the station, the team feels more settled during a light rain than a thunderstorm. If they have downtime, they like to hang around each other in the loft. The backdrop of rain is nice as they all relax with each other. Sometimes proximity is all they need to feel connected. They don’t always have to be talking.

Chimney gets a bit grumpy with the rain. It makes his hair fall flat and he especially hates driving the ambulance in the rain. (Hen knows and is sure to be the one in the driver’s seat as often as possible.)

But Chimney secretly loves when they get a call in the middle of the night because he loves the way the different city lights reflect off of the wet streets in the dark. (Living in Los Angeles for a few decades can put a wear on the glamour of the city, but this kind of sight always fills him with a little bit of wonder.)

Hen is obsessed with the smell of the air before and after rain. She can always tell when rain is coming. Rainy days are a stress relief.

Sometimes, Eddie gets a little nervous about rain. He’s usually okay, but once in awhile, it makes him think about the well incident. It’s an ache that never fades, and the whole team can tell if it’s getting to him. On those days, Cap will make his favorite dish and the team will draw him out of his head by keeping him talking about anything.

Bobby’s favorite part of the rain is when it ends. The cold makes old injuries ache a little bit and he’s never fond of coming in from a call that leaves him drenched. (But he doesn’t hate it. He still loves the way it makes his team feel.)

I probably have more if you ask me about a specific character but that’s what first comes to mind 🥰 I love my firefam and because I love rain, they love rain.

sleepover weekend 🌧 ask/tell me something!

[melatovnik]

i wanted to make this quick wangxian fic rec post just so they don’t get lost. i asked for cute/funny fics and @manhasetardis​​ delivered. thanks teresa! ❤

housed by your warmth by scifi | rated E | 2K words

wei wuxian may never grow to enjoy mornings but he enjoys this, he really enjoys this – stolen time together, bodies reuniting, waking up before the world.

rainy season by scifi | rated T | 3K words

even rabbits deserve to stay dry (in which lan zhan brings all the rabbits to the jingshi during a summer storm and wei ying is pleasantly surprised)

The Thing Is by sunlightrefrain | rated T | 8K words

“What the fuck, dude.” Jin Zixun sounds mad. Oh, he sounds very mad. “Are you out of your fucking mind? I’ll get you fucking expelled.”

Lan Zhan, who doesn’t give even an ounce of a shit, only grits out, “Please, by all means.” Which, for Lan Zhan, is more or less the verbal equivalent of a fuck you and your ancestral home too. Wei Ying blanches.

Or; Wei Ying meets Lan Zhan when he’s seven. Nearly two decades later, Lan Zhan punches Jin Zixun.

Far Away You Are by cqlorphan | rated E | 17K words

Suddenly, it snaps into place. The weary way Lan Zhan has been holding himself is suddenly cast in a new, much more distressing light. Somebody is responsible for it, a real live, horrible, blind, stupid person. The combination of guilt, sadness, and anger that sets in all at once is hard to contain. Lingering wisps of resentment that remain from the night-hunt flock to him, like calling to like.

All four boys stare at him with wide eyes.

“Wei-qianbei,” Sizhui says. “You look...um…”

“Scary,” Zizhen breathes, beaming.

“Who has rejected Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Or; during one of his visits to the Cloud Recesses, the juniors strike a blow to Wei Wuxian's certainty that his feelings for Lan Wangji are one-sided.

Swipe Right by Bowandtie | rated T | 30K words

How not to use Chinese Tinder, a cautionary tale. (Or not, if you're looking at the end result.)

WWX made his life's mission to be matched with every weird people with hilariously bad profile pic on Tantan.

thoroughly in earnest by stiltonbasket | rated G | 3K words

The first time someone addresses him as something other than "Honored Master Wei" during an assembly, Wei Wuxian barely registers it.

He's never been one for titles, after all.

Ten years after his wedding, Wei Wuxian ascends as Chief Cultivator.

Somehow, he's the last one to know about it.

the And They Were Married And Had a Son series by yellowcarnations | rated G | 9K words total

Xiu Mei can see the gobsmacked faces of her classmates on the screen, some of them even have their mouth hanging open comically. She doesn't doubt that she is in a similar state herself.

Not only is Professor Lan is apparently married, he's married to Professor Wei, and they also have a kid together. Literally no one could've seen that coming.

neck deep with no way out by ericacea & SugarMilkTea | rated T | 29K words

There's a hickey on Lan Zhan's neck, and Wei Ying didn't put it there. Wei Ying's Plan For Gaining Lan Zhan's Affections™️ had not accounted for this. He sets out to discover who exactly has had their mouth on his friend's neck—and figure out how to get his plan back on track.

Friendly Fields, Open Roads by queensmooting | not rated | 12K words

She smiles. She scrunches up her nose. She sneezes a monstrous cloud of dark smoke in Wei Wuxian's face.

"Lan Zhan," he says lightly. "I think something's wrong with your baby."

Nothing But Trouble by brooklinegirl | rated E | 60K words

"I don't want to really date anyone. It's so stupid, I just need to pretend date someone until Jiang Cheng gets his act together, then go back to my own life." He stares at his empty coffee cup.

"Date me," Lan Zhan says. Then he looks at Wei Ying's empty cup. "Would you like another cup of coffee?"

"Always," Wei Ying says automatically. "But wait, what."

"I'll get you another cup." Lan Zhan rises smoothly from the table.

"No, wait, hang on." Wei Ying grabs his wrist before he can take the cup and Lan Zhan freezes up, staring down at where Wei Ying is hanging on to him. "Fuck, sorry, I'll—" Wei Ying hastily lets go of his wrist. "Sorry, I—what did you mean?"

"I can pretend to date you," Lan Zhan says. "You take it with cream and sugar, correct?"

like, comment, share & subscribe by detectorist | rated T | 22K words

“Come on, A-Cheng!” Wei Ying says. “Think of all the hapless youths who are watching hanguang_jun’s channel and being duped into thinking that’s what university is like! It’s not fair on the kids!”

Jiang Cheng appears to be entirely unmoved by this highly logical argument.

—

Lan Zhan runs a popular studytuber YouTube channel. Wei Ying decides to parody his videos. Things escalate from there.

play your love songs all night long by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf & tardigradeschool | rated E | 2K words

Look, sometimes you meet a guy in college and become best friends. Sometimes the two of you spend a day babysitting objectively the best baby on earth, and that baby needs parents. Sometimes you get married to the guy (platonically!) and spend thirteen years raising the best baby on earth into the best teenager on earth. Also you share a bed. Also you're in love with him.

Wei Ying is pretty sure all that is normal. Lan Zhan agrees. Sizhui is... dubious.

like blue flame over my fingertips by tangerinechar | rated T | 37K words

Lan Wangji’s roommate is brash, noisy, messy, annoying, and — absolutely terrible at feeding himself properly.

(Or: food as a metaphor for love, featuring Lan Wangji’s A++ cooking skills, five times Lan Wangji cooked for Wei Wuxian, and one time Wei Wuxian reciprocated.)

and bonus fic rec from @themanfromnantucket​ (thank you! ^^):

Just say yes by edenwolfie | rated T | 10K words

Lan Qiren had never had a student he couldn’t improve, and Wei Wuxian would not be the exception, especially not now that his nephew was in love with the troublemaker. He would not allow history to repeat itself.

plus one more fic rec from me since i read this recently and loved it:

and there was only one tent by detectorist | rated E | 21K words

Lan Zhan gets into the front and Wei Ying hands him a paddle before getting in the back. The canoe rocks a little as they settle themselves.

“Comfortable?” Wei Ying says. Lan Zhan looks over his shoulder and nods. Wei Ying decides, abruptly, that this is probably the one of the best views he’s ever going to get in his life: Lan Zhan in the front of the canoe, wearing his baby blue baseball cap, bathed in sunlight, with the sparkling expanse of water all around them and the lush sugar maples in the background.

—

Wei Ying and Lan Zhan go camping.

[midnightmoonkiss]

How To Train A Demon

An adorable visual of Demon!Deku by @birds-have-teeth !!💙

Demon!Izuku Midoriya x Fem!Reader

Summary: Who knew you’d be teaching a man from the underworld your way of life, and who knew you’d slowly start to fall in love with the very being you were taught to fear?

WARNINGS! None!

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 12k

A/N: Day 12 of the Izumonth collab! 

I had to split it into two parts due to limited time with editing, so the second part will be posted shortly after the collab ends!

I also want to thank @1a-imagines for helping me edit and find a good stopping point with this fic! I would not have finished it in time if it werent for her and her amazing talents! 

Just To Clarify:

Takes place in early-ish Japan during the summer!

I did not do my history homework..

Reader does not have a job, and lives alone on the side of a mountain.

They say dark and stormy nights always bring chaos and misfortune.

That the scariest of tales are bred from the harsh splatter of rain on parched ground, the crackle of lightning in the sky illuminating the monsters that lurk deep in the shadows.

They always warn to fear those nights, to keep a lantern on and a knife under your pillow, for you never know what nefarious being is waiting to strike during your most vulnerable state.

And for the most part, it was true. Believable. 

Of course, how could you not believe in such stories?

They were what you grew up with, what you were lectured with, a lesson repeatedly bashed into your skull from the minute you could understand them.

Everyone feared those nights.

Everyone feared the darkness.

It was always something so easy to be afraid of without even really being given a viable reason as to why other than tales passed on for generations.

You fear what you do not understand.

Especially those who lived alone, people like you.

People who needed fear to keep them alive more than the next person.

A small house on the mountainside, surrounded by thick forests and shrines to gods of ancient times. Lands protected and blessed by predecessors, symbols carved into trees and painted on rocks to banish the evil. 

But alone you lived, alone your fears manifested into a ball of terror-filled paranoia, regardless of anyone’s true sense of reason.

Could you always rely on a symbol to keep you safe?

This particular night would unknowingly bring those fears to life.

But then again, it’s impossible to expect the unexpected, regardless of what others may say or encourage.

Thunder clapped loudly in the sky as rain assaulted your wooden rooftop, something usually so peaceful amplified by the altitude and sounding like a million dancers stomping on the old wood, dragging you into a restless sleep as stray drops drip from your ceiling, echoing in a metal pan at the far side of your room from a leak you had yet to repair.

Body curled into a ball, you gasped involuntarily when a bright flash illuminated your room, followed immediately by the raging roar of the sky as it split in two once again.

It was safe to say you would suffer through another sleepless night, fingers digging into the meaty flesh of your poor pillow as you fought to maintain a steady breath as the violent storm raged on outside, howling winds only adding to the dreadful abundance of creepy noises.

Nights like these you wished you weren’t alone.

Perhaps you would have been less afraid if your deceased family didn’t decide to live on the mountain instead of in the valley.

Though you desired to move down there where lanterns illuminated the sky at night, you couldnt abandoned what little you had left of your kin.

Instead, you sucked it up, like you always managed to do.

You were an adult, after all, one that theoretically should have been married already, but alas.

You craved freedom more than you craved to be tied down by a ring of false promises. That, and the fact that typically parents were the ones who set up marriages.

As another bang of thunder rang out in the night, you squeezed your tired eyes closed, imagining someone was there with you, wrapped securely in their embrace, even if just for a moment. Someone there to calm your breath down, to protect you from the loneliness that stabbed at your weeping heart.

Whimpering, your legs rubbed together as a cold chill filtered into the room, creeping up your spine as goosebumps ran down your skin, the garment you wore doing next to nothing at keeping you warm.

Perhaps you should have kept the fireplace going..  An old, rusty oil lantern with a small flame could only do so much. Then again, it was more of a light source than a heat source, so you couldn’t really complain.

With a huff, you dragged the thick covers over your head, sealing in what little warmth you had.

It was like a warm cocoon, almost. A little bundle of protection. You could barely even see the flashes anymore, but that just meant the thunder would swoop down on you like a hawk, startling you every time.

But what else is one to do other than to wait out the storm?

The sun would rise eventually, just as it always has and just as it always will.

Since the beginning of time, the sun blessed the lands with a golden glow, shrouding its children in warmth and love. The moon was like it’s bitter sister, cold and cruel, taking away the light that led her people through her darkness.

Some nights she was merciful, and others- gone from the sky completely.

This night just happened to be one of those nights.

So not only was it violent, rainy, and cold, this night was also one without any true lights.

Stars were a blessing in disguise, their brightness concerningly dim.

At least you had your lantern and that dirty old katana your father left behind.

You were safe.

At least you thought you were, but a sudden cry bellowing through the night tore the thick atmosphere apart, sending chills down your spine and making the grip on your blanket as tight as ever.

What.. was that?

It sounded almost like..

Like a wounded animal..

Just then, a flash of light blinded your vision, a sickening roar accompanying it. The ground shook as you whimpered, eyes wide with fear.

A bolt must have struck close to home..

It’s okay.

Everything is okay.

Breath heavy and body shaking, you comforted yourself with logic- an old friend you abandoned.

An animal just got hurt, was all. Perhaps a tree fell on it, or maybe it got attacked by another animal!?

It might even have been that howling wind that acted up sometimes! 

Everything was okay.

It’s okay.

Nothing to fear.

It’s just a storm.

Just a storm.

Just a storm.

You’re safe.

You’re inside.

The light guides you, the charms protect you, the shrines embrace you.

You’re okay.

It’s just a storm.

It’s just a

SCRSSSSHHHHH!! 

CRASH!

“AHHH!”

A blood-curdling scream tore from your throat as something suddenly crashed through your window, the loud sound of wood tearing apart and clanging to the floor was followed by a heavy thud and the splash of rain on your padded floor at the gaping hole given to it.

Screaming in terror, your frantic hand grabbed the blade at your side, shaking body scrambling backwards to the other side of the wall, pulling it from its sheath.

You were trapped, you had no exit!

The only exit you had was where whatever the fuck that is just crashed!

Oh gods!

You’re going to die!

This was it!

A fucking storm!

A fucking goddamn storm!

God, you were a fool!

Hyperventilation crept up on you like a venomous snake, its cold body constricting tightly around your chest and throat, cutting off your oxygen supply and freezing your numb fingers.

You were scared shitless, that was for sure, and all you could do was helplessly stare with wavering eyes at a large, haunting silhouette in the corner of the room. The small light, now seemingly miles away, providing next to no coverage of this massive figure, only gifting the room more horrific shadows.

You wanted this to be a dream, that what the elders warned wasn’t true.

This was just a nightmare.

A scary nightmare your mind conjured up like it always did.

Rain splattered against your sickly pale face, the droplets mixing with the burning hot tears that poured down your cheeks as you fought to keep a steady hand and to slide up the wall to stand.

Old, dull blade pointing forward, you couldn’t help by cry out as the dark figure moves ever so slightly.

A crash of light drowns out your sobs, swallowing the room in a dull white glow for a mere moment, enough of a moment to give you a glimpse of this creature.

You wish you hadn’t seen it, that you indulged in your ignorance for a moment, that you didn’t see the way large, black wings sprouted from the back of a human.

Horns glistened with water atop its head, long tail thrashing wildly as its body moved to get up.

Your breathing stopped the minute it opened its eyes, a vicious, glowing green staring off at the destruction it caused.

Heart roaring in your ears, you did nothing but stare.

It was as if your blood had ran as cold, for all you could think to do was to silently pray to the gods that everything would be okay.

That your life would not end.

That you would still have a chance to become what you were supposed to be, and not die a lonely child by the hands of a beast.

Suddenly, its eyes snapped to your own, wide pupils turning into menacing slits as it gazed at you with malice, an animalistic growl rumbling in its chest, sharp teeth that could easy rip your throat out on full display.

Blade slipping from your numb hands, black dots spotted your vision as you promptly fainted from fear, accepting death in its imminent wake as your knees crash against the floor.

‘So this truly was the end’.. You thought to yourself as you body drifted lifelessly in a void of black, fingers outstretched as if reaching for something that would never be there.

Death was always something to think about, the burning question always attacking your mind as to how exactly you would die. You figured you’d be mawed to death by a wild boar of sorts, tusks tearing through the ligaments in your legs, praying you’d die from bleeding out before its teeth dug into your skin, eating you alive.

Or perhaps you’d die as most women do these days, walking alone before you’re kidnapped by an enemy.

Death by what could only be described as a demon never truly crossed your mind despite you being warned by it.

It seemed impossible.

Why would a demon want you of all people?

Though, you were.. an easy prey.

‘I’m sorry..’ you whispered to yourself, hoping your words of sincerity would cross the plains of existence and comfort those you would ultimately leave behind, which wasn’t many, and those you were soon to visit. You let your eyes slip shut to close off the suffocating abyss, embracing death.

“Ugh!” you groaned uncomfortably as a bright light assaulted your closed eyes, dragging you from your sleep.

No.. was this sleep?

You couldn’t be too optimistic..

Turning over, your back promptly blocked out the headache-inducing light, bare arm coming up to rub the drowsiness from your eyes as you blinked in your surroundings.

Well.

There wasn’t really anything to look at since you were facing a wall.

More specifically, your bedroom wall. A simple, faded, dark wood design.

Humming, your fingers tap against the tatami floor, chewing on your lip as you struggled to comprehend the beating of your own heart.

Were you alive?

It was hard to tell, you didn’t exactly have an accurate depiction of the afterlife.

Oh boy. 

If you were dead, your family would kill you again no doubt for dying so early.

Of course, you can never please your ancestors, especially if you don’t leave something behind to continue your family’s lineage.

Maybe it was a good thing that you were dead, actually.

It didn’t take but a moment to notice the unusually loud sounds of nature attacking your ears and the wet, earthy scent flooding your nose.

The rain had ceased, and the morning birds were singing their usual cheerful tune.

The delicate jingle of your wind chime could be heard as it swayed ever so gently in the wind, having previously been frantically dinging all night long.

At least you were welcomed with open arms to your afterlife, after promptly being murdered by some weird fucking overgrown bat demon.

Who knows, maybe it wasn’t a demon.

Demons didn’t look like that? No, they were much creepier, but it wasn’t like you had anything real to compare it to.

Grumbling to yourself, you ran a hand through your messy hair, finding the oily, tangled mess utterly disgusting.

You really should take a bath soon.

Does the afterlife have baths?

You would throw a fit if not, you need your weekly soak, even if the water wasn’t that warm.

You’d be damned if you didn’t get a minute to relax and destress.

But then again, is there even stress here?

You’d have to find out later, for now, you should stop staring at your dirty old wall like some sort of lunatic, give this whole afterlife a go.

Slapping your bare thighs, eyes sparkling with determination you go to turn around before promptly screaming your heart out as fright squeezed the life out of you once more.

Large, snake-like green eyes bore into your own, only a hair length away.

Throat dry, you flung yourself back against the wall as you fought to scramble away, only for this creature to follow your every movement as you pushed yourself into a corner.

All you could see was green.

Green.

The type of green that reminded you of toxic flames erupting from an innocents body as it succumbs to possession.

You swore you were dead, but perhaps you have yet to meet your untimely end.

“Please!”

You cried, tears pouring down your raw cheeks as your arms wrapped protectively around your head, “Please don’t hurt me!” sobbing, you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting.

Waiting was always a horrifying game, you never knew when the waiting would stop and when you could breathe again.

But death never greeted you.

It was odd in a way.

It was as if you were expecting so much, that to not be given it was even more confusing.

Lips wobbling, you slowly peaked your eye open, breathless as you noticed this human-like creature suddenly at the other end of the room, clawed fingers tapping together at it shifted nervously from bare foot to foot.

…

What the-?

“I-i’m so sorry! I, I must’ve scared you so much… I’m really sorry!”

You stared in shock as this… man fell to his knees, thumping his forehead onto the floor in an apologetic bow, wings bent and folded at his sides.

You were speechless.

Truly, what the hell?

Was this even real?

You couldn’t tell anymore.

This all seemed so questionable.

It was certainly what crashed through your home- of fuck!

Gasping, you finally got a good luck at the true destruction.

Oh, your window was completely ruined! Broken wood stuck out everywhere, even looking at it made you feel like you were going to get a splinter!

How are you supposed to fix that when you haven’t a coin to your name?

Fuck.

Wait.

Oh, right!

There was!

This creature!

What the hell.

Breathing heavily, you fought to calm yourself down as you got a good look at this thing.

Its hair was messy, mud, twigs, and leaves entangling itself in its thick, dark green curls. It was hard to ignore the two large black horns atop its head, locks wrapping almost possessively around them.

Pointy ears caught your attention, a strange earpiece dangling from one with an upside-down, obsidian Christian cross.

Of course, what mostly caught your attention were the two large black wings sprouting from its scarred back, a thin black tail idly swaying back and forth.

His cream-colored skin was wet with water, dotted with freckles, and littered with scars varying in sizes.

All and all, you were dumbfounded.

Eyes bouncing around the room, you looked for your sword, desperate for some sort of protection, something you could say you tried to fight it off with if worse came to inevitable worse.

Oh!

There!

It was only a few feet away from you, and do as you must, you slowly crept forward, crawling on your hands and knees, sneaking around in hopes it wouldn’t lift its head and pounce on you.

Unfortunately, you pressed on a particularly creaky floorboard, and its head snapped up, fear causing you to jump for the sword before shakily aiming it at the demon once more.

“S-stay back!” you warned with a wavering voice, though you knew for a fact you looked like a crying child who could do no real harm.

Eyes stared into each other once more, this time from a safer distance. You were just about to speak again when it spoke up, its voice a calmer and not as frantic, “You’re holding that wrong.”

“Excuse me?” you answered without a beat, astonishment lacing your words as curiosity rose onto your face, how on earth did this thing know that?

“You’re holding the katana wrong,” it pointed at your hands on its handle, sharp black fingernail catching your ultimate attention, “You shouldn’t hold it just at the bottom, you need to space your hands out more. You would not be a threat to anyone if you hold it like that.”

Was… was it seriously lecturing you right now? 

Eye twitching with annoyance, you slid your hands into the position described, “Just like that! Perfect!” it smiled brightly at you, green eyes slipping closed as it praised you like a teacher to a student who did good.

“Shut up!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet, flames of anger igniting within your body as you took a step forward.

With an inhuman screech, its wings folded protectively around its body, “Ack! I’m sorry! I just wanted to help you!”

What is going on?!

This, this wasn’t! This wasn’t supposed to be happening right now, right?? It was just about to kill you!

Could you even call it an "it", it looks like a man!

Is it a man? How do demons work!

Why is this happening right now!

You couldn’t wrap your head around it, and it was beyond infuriating!

“Who and what are you!” you snarled out, surprise blossoming in your eyes at the sheer ferocity you just displayed, but annoyance sure is a force to be reckoned with.

Wings cracking open ever so slightly, and you can just barely see an innocent green eye peaking out. 

“M-My name is Midoriya.. Midoriya Izuku.. I’m.. I am a.. I know it sounds weird, but I’m a demon..”

So you were right.

This is a demon, just not one you were used to.

Yokai was what they’re called here, red, devilish creatures that sought destruction.

This certainly wasn’t a yokai, surely, despite his cheeks being a subtle red.

“I mean you no harm..” he meekly whispered, unfolding his large wings just to put his hands in the air, defenseless.

You weren’t convinced.

But then again, what were you supposed to do?

It wasnt as if you were taught how to handle a situation where an animal crashes into your house in the middle of a thunderstorm just to be there the next morning watching you sleep like some sort of creepy stalker.

When life gives you lemons, though, right?

Well, you hated lemons.

Or, at least these lemons.

No, that doesn’t apply here surely. This is a man, not a lemon.

Regardless, you were stuck on what action you should take.

Caution was definitely one. Though it hadn't harmed you in any way and was looking pretty beat up itself, you couldn’t run the risk of being too trusting too early only to end up with your throat ripped out.

There, of course, is still the question as to how it was able to enter holy lands such as these, lands protected from such devilish creatures.

They were supposed to combust into flames upon entering, right?

Closing your eyes for a moment, you took a deep breath, letting a scowl settle onto your face as you glared at this ‘Midoriya,’ “Why are you h-”

“Wait, wait wait!” he suddenly shouted out, arms waving frantically in front of his burning red face, “B-before uh! You do whatever you’re going to do, c-can you..” words were whispered under his breath as his arms wrapped childishly around his head, averting his gaze to the side, “Can you fix.. your garments…? Please?” 

Stunned, you gaped at him, confused as to what he meant. Fix your garments? They were perfectly fine!

Only, they werent.

To your utter horror, your loose robe had begun to slip, completely exposing your left shoulder and the top of your breast.

It probably would have been more embarrassing if you didn’t still have a bit of adrenaline coursing through your veins, so naturally, you nonchalantly fixed up your robe.

Izuku sighed in relief, arms unraveling from his head.

“Now, what was your ques-”

“Why are you here.” You repeated, wanting definite answers as to what the fuck a demon was doing in these parts, and why it crashed into your beautiful house.

Hell, a bird just flew in! It’s going to be unimaginably cold in here tonight!

“Thats a uh,” he chuckled nervously, eyes drifting to look out into the forest covered in morning dew as he lightly scratched at his cheek with that sharp nail. He shifted so that he was sitting with his legs crossed over one another, tail flopping onto his lap to no doubt keep his decency.

He was clearly naked. How had you not noticed this before?

Where you too caught up in your head to realize this entire time he was bare?

And yet he had the gall to tell you to fix yourself up? It was hard to tell if he was being a gentleman or a fool.

Regardless, you ‘d never seen a naked man before. Perhaps muscular arms at most as village men helped their wives and older folk about.

But completely in the nude? Bare chest, legs out? Never.

You’d have to swallow down that bubble of nervousness, ignoring the heat on your cheeks, too eager to hear his answer rather than get wrapped up in ‘oh god he’s hot’ thoughts.

“A long story..”

“Everyone always says its a long story. Stop avoiding the question, and answer it before I cut your head off!” You bravely declared, only for his viridescent eyes flashing with mischief to flicker over to you with a momentary smirk on his lips.

It was almost as if his face turned into the personification of ‘is that so?’ and honestly, you do not blame him for reacting in such a way. You didn’t even know how to hold this old katana until a few minutes ago when told you how.

He was obviously trying to hide that display of cockiness as he coughed into his tattooed fist, “Well, if you’ve got the time-”

“I do.”

“H-how much?”

Eye twitching with aggravation, you promptly sat down on your knees, the sun-warmed tatami mat beneath you offering some comfort to your chilled bones.

“As long as you need.”

It didn’t take long for him to spit out his story, having no real choice in the matter.

Apparently, he was an exiled demon.

Who knew demons of all things could be banished from the underworld?

According to him, demons were the incarnation of evil, bred from human hatred and misery, taught to become a monster who wreaks havoc on the innocent and guilty, but he was different.

Since birth, or his ‘manifestation’ as he strangely called it, he was much kinder than those around him. Pure and sweet, hiding it behind a mask of cruelty in fear of the banishment now bestowed upon him.

So here he is in all his glory, a permanent seal of banishment printed in black ink onto his left pectoral in the form of broken kanji and crescent moons.

It was quite a lovely mark, really, but to him, it meant lonely freedom.

But, who knew demons can’t fly for shit in the rain? Certainly not him. Salty water splattered in his eyes, blinding him after a loud crack of lightning tore a scream from his throat - which explained the cries of an animal in pain. 

And so he crashed through your home, a scared animal.

It was hard to tell if you were lucky or not, considering the charms didnt work at all.

At least you had a reason now, the mark he was branded with took away his demonic possession.

He was more of a human now than a demon, powers stripped away, not that he used them.

The only problem was, he looked like a demon.

Horns? Check. Reptillian eyes? Check. Lare, bat-like wings? Check. A tail that looks like it could easily stab someone? Check. 

Not to mention the strange tattoos under his eyes and on his left arm, something he was supposedly born with and which was unique to himself only.

To you, the intricate tattoo looked like a bunny ensnared in thorny vines on his arm, but he was quick to take offense before laughing boyishly.

You were absolutely stuck on what you should do with him.

Tossing him to the snakes and boars would surely be too cruel, but keeping a demon in your house?

How maddening! You were lucky no one came around these parts to snoop in on whats inside.

Though, despite it being absolutely ludicrous, you allowed it. That is, because of his promise that he’d fix your window. Heavens know you certainly cant do it yourself.

He was insistent that you should sleep in the dusty guest bedroom, a smaller room with a mere futon and window, lacking the furniture you had, as he stood guard at the opening at night.

Demons apparently didnt sleep much?

Lucky you.

And so now, by events you never could have seen coming, you have a giant cat looming over your shoulder.

It was hard not to let your guard down so fast around him when he was so.. innocent. So open and kind, always willing to help around the house, and always quick to jump away if he began to do something wrong.

His curiosity was truly adorable, though.

Most days he’d stare in wonder at something new with an awestruck expression, eyes sparkling as he’d take a brush and ink, scribbling down notes about it in a foreign language on a piece of parchment, even attempting to draw it. He would always ask you about it later, showing you what he had written down, and if you could answer, you would. He’d always thank you profusely before writing down what you’d said.

You couldn’t understand what he wrote, it’d always be a mystery, but it certainly was an intricate language.

The only problem was he was so used to being naked all the time that it was an embarrassing struggle to get him to not only get into clothes but to also wear them. The most he was willing to wear was a sash from as robe wrapped around his waist. He disliked the constricting feeling of fabric clinging to his body, slipping out of it whenever you got him dressed.

It really did give you the chance to actually know what a man looked like, that, as well as study him. He was littered with scars ranging from small, faded, fresh, large, it truly was a painful sight the days you decided to dwell on them.

He had told you a few stories already about how he had gotten certain ones, and most stories were ones filled with pride and determination, winning fights or protecting others.

Each scar held an interesting story, except the one on his neck, which was gained from forgetting he had sharp nails in a fit of frustration. 

As you found out later that first day of knowing him, his wings and horns had the ability to shrink, not only giving him more mobility inside the house, but also taking away that spike of anxiety whenever you’d see them near a fragile object. Besides, their tiny selves were oh so cute, not that you’d ever openly say that.

And so, two weeks had passed, and there was still that dreadful broken window. Izuku had been kind enough to clean up the mess he made, insisting to do so after your intense interrogation, so it truly was an out of place marker of destruction now.

Its stay was to be expected, considering you didn’t have a replacement. No, you’d need to buy one.

Oh, buying. A poor man’s nightmare.

But as it turns out, demons are quite good at finding valuable things in the wilderness.

Or at least, that’s what he explained to you when he showed up one morning covered in dirt and mud, twigs all in his hair, boring an appearance similar to his first arrival, showing off a handful of silver and copper coins, as well as two golden ones.

In short, you were too busy drooling at the sight to care about how exactly he got it.

Travelers were often dropping coins anyway, so it surely doesn’t matter. Besides, his accomplished smile was far too sweet to tarnish with questions.

“You’re dirty, again.” you bluntly pointed out after thanking him for his find, pouring the coins into a small, worn pouch containing only two copper. Tying it up, you were quick to place it back on the shelf, hiding it behind a book of heroic tales.

“O-oh.. I didn’t notice..” he laughed awkwardly in that boyish manner he seemed to always have, large hands immediately going to brush off the caked mud on his legs and arms.

“Absolutely not, mister! I just cleaned!” Scolding him, you grabbed his wrist before he had the chance, glaring up into his surprised, foresty green snake-like eyes.

“If you’re going to shake your dirty little self off, go do it outside!”

At times, you acted more like a mother than you did anything else with him. But to be fair, he did come to this practical new world without any true knowledge of its customs, what you can and cannot do. Surely not making the house someone let you graciously stay in dirty was a universal thing.

He openly stared at you, innocent eyes glistening and wobbly lips reminding you of a kicked puppy.

Ouch.

“S-sorry,” he promptly apologized, attention snapping to your smaller hand still gripping his wrist, pink dusting over his chubby, freckled cheeks.

Sighing, you patted his large arm, picking up on the way it made his wings flutter, “It’s alright. Just go pat yourself off outside. I’ll set up a bath for you. I don’t need dirt everywhere in here again.”

Nodding eagerly, a bright smile overtook his face, showing off his unusually sharp canines.

Perhaps you would’ve been afraid had he shown them off in a vicious way again, but he was far too excited at the prospect of submerging his body in heated water to seem at all threatening.

You watched for a split second as he ran off, head instantly whipping to the side when he suddenly threw off the measly piece of fabric wrapped around his thin waist, tail curling around his muscular leg that you definitely haven’t been staring at throughout all this time.

You would have yelled after him for stripping if you weren’t so flustered.

You’d doubt you’d ever get used to it, seeing him nearly naked all the time. Artists were right to draw demons naked it seems, they truly didnt have any shame.

A blessing and a curse.

Grumbling, you began the long process of filling the metal tub with buckets of water from the well out back, igniting a small flame beneath it so the water would be warm upon his arrival.

Speaking of which, he was taking an unusual amount of time.

Surely you didn’t have to be worried, but it had been at least half an hour at this point, right? It doesn’t take that long to brush yourself down, does it?

Unease built in your gut, and you began pacing around the house, chewing anxiously at your fingernails as the old boards creaked beneath your feet.

He was very capable of handling himself, he was a fairly strong and intimidating soul, but what if he ran into someone? Your house wasn’t too far from the village, it was very plausible that he could’ve run into a hunter!

What if he was dead!

Oh gods, was he dead?!

And you had just put so much effort into running a bath for him!

Should you look for him?

What if he doesnt come home?

Maybe he’s lost?

Or stuck in a trap!

There were so many different possibilities, that your feet began to move on their own, the long sleeves of your kimono flapping behind you as you rushed towards the door where he had jumped out of, only to slam into a much larger and sturdier frame the minute you were about to exit.

“Hyah!” you cried out from surprise, being knocked backward.

Two hands quickly caught your flailing arms before you had the chance to land flat on your ass.

Looking up in a panic, you were relieved to see the familiar, warm green gaze of Izuku.

“Careful!” he was now the one to scold, playfully pouting his reddened lips. Breathless from worry and slamming into him, you jumped to your feet, taking a moment to catch your breath.

“D-don’t tell me to b-be careful!” whining, embarrassed at the fact that you had been pressed so close to him, you adjusted your oversized kimono that had slipped ever-so-slightly at the rough collision.

“Mmm~ Be careful?” he teased, leaning down just to purr beside your flushed face his cold, dangling earring tickling the skin at your neck.

Smacking his shoulder, you let out an annoyed huff, only to screech a second after, blood burning your cheeks as you turned away so quickly you could hear the sleeves slap against his body, “Put some clothes on, damnit!!”

“I thought I had to be naked for a bath?” It was annoying how you could tell he was pulling your strings, no doubt his head was tilting as he batted his lashes at your smaller frame, like he always did when given the chance to be a tease.

Growling to yourself, you pointed off to the direction where the bath was prepared, desperate to escape from this trap you had set yourself in, “Then go bathe, you dirty, dirty boy!” At this point, you were on the verge of flat out shoving him into the bathroom, wanting to escape from his nude self.

You’d clearly have to start forcing him to wear clothes more, putting your foot down if he was to stay in this house.

You did not need a heart attack every morning at seeing a naked man waiting eagerly for you to awake, only for a wide smile to blossom on his face, tail thumping loudly on the ground and wings flapping like a bird when he noticed you blink your eyes open.

Of course, a pillow was always thrown at him, the plea for him to wear some clothes always on your tongue, but alas, you were lucky if he wore his piece of fabric, that flimsy sash you had half as mind at throwing away just so he would be forced to wear something else.

“O-okay..” his shy self seeped back in, his fingers visibly poking together, an anxious habit you presumed. Feet thumping against the floor, he traveled down the hall and to the bath, a loud gasp echoing down the corridor when he noisily jumped in, water sloshing. “So warm!”

“Please clean up your mess-!”

It was almost like dealing with a child, except this child was hundreds of years older than you and a grown-ass man, if that was a positive or negative- you’d never know.

It wasn’t until the next day you got him to fully wear a kimono, an old one your father had left behind. It fitted him, truly, black with green vines snaking down the sides and wrapping around the cuffs. It was a nightmare to get him in it, though.

Not that he wasn’t obedient, no, he truly did try his best to please you, but perhaps it just wasn’t something he could easily comprehend just yet, not to mention you had to somehow squeeze his wings into the outfit.

His tail was easy to hide due to the kimono reaching the floor, but thank god for hats because truly it was impossible to hide his horns any other way.

But the poor man was clearly unhappy, lips pouty and eyes droopy as he shifted from one foot to the other.

“They.. feel weird..” he tried to explain, pulling at the neckline, only for you to swat his hand away. “You’ll get used to it.” you reassured.

Grabbing the coin pouch you had placed on the shelf, you made him carry a sack over his shoulder, something to not only hide his lumpy wing covered back but to also carry the supplies you’d be purchasing soon.

It would be impossible to hide his facial markings, so you didn’t attempt. The thought of smearing mud on his cheeks did cross your mind, but alas, that would look suspicious. If only tattoos weren’t so taboo, and if only he didn’t have such suspicious ones.

Everyone in the village knew you, knew your story, and they knew you were alone. You had no doubts they’d ask who this mysterious stranger was, or at least openly gawk at him. You could avoid certain nosey fuckers, but at times it was unavoidable 

Grabbing his sleeve, you led him out the front door, quick to slide it shut before walking down the dirt trail.

Perhaps you could say he was a distant relative? You didn’t have any distant relatives, so that would, unfortunately, be a bust.  You placed your finger on your chin, thinking as you allowed your body to walk down the familiar path on autopilot, head in the clouds as you thought.

Curse these nosy ass people, already knowing everything about you!

Perhaps he was a traveler you found lost in the storm? Or he found you?

No.. that wouldn't explain the markings..

You needed to come up with something!

Grrr!

Oh! Oh! Wait!

“Midoriya..” you began, tilting your head curiously towards him. 

His lips pressed into a thin line, already recognizing that mischievous glint in your mesmerizing (e/c) eyes. 

Was that even a way he should describe them? Perhaps not, but he would be a fool to disagree with the statement formed in his head.

Gulping, he stuttered out nervously, focus shifting from you to the path in front of his wooden sandal-clad feet, shoes he wasnt too happy with, “Y-yes..?”

“Do you know what ninja’s are?”

You’re a genius.

“I, uhm, I’ve heard about them..why?”

“Mmm.. what have you heard?”

“Just that they’re skilled with a blade and sneaking around..” He looked at you dumbly, eyebrow arched as you only smiled back at him, adding to his own confusion.

“You’re gonna be a ninja, then.” You boldly declared out, catching his arm as he suddenly stumbled over a rock as he sputtered.

“W-wha?! B-but I- I’m n-not a ninja!” 

“I know that, but listen! The people at the village don’t! I have no doubts they’re going to poke and prod at you, wondering who you are.. A ninja that stumbled upon my house in the middle of a storm would explain your sudden appearance and your facial tattoos, and Hell, even your eyes!”

Filled with a sense of victory, you grinned ear to ear, amazed at how you had come up with such a solution on the spot.

You truly were creative.

A gift, maybe.

Oh, man! All the village women are going to be so jealous! Always quick to say you’d end up alone, but boy were they wrong! Here you have it, a ninja demon following you around! Suck on that, widows!

Wanting to gauge his reaction, seeing as he went oddly silent, you looked over at him, only to stop in your tracks and have your arms go limp by your sides.

“W-wha…” face scrunching up, you stared at him, bewildered. He was pointing at his cheek, smirking at you, showing off the fact that not only had his eyes gained a human-like pupil, which now looked odd on him, but the fact that the markings now looked like smudged paint.

It was dumbfounding.

“What the hell happened to your face..” trailing off, you couldnt help but scratch at your head, running possibilities through your mind but coming up with no true solution.

“Demons have the ability to switch from eyes that can see well in the dark to eyes that cannot! I forgot about it until you pointed them out, to be honest! So thank you for that!”

He was smiling boyishly again, only to flush deeply as you grabbed his face, soft, small hands on his cheeks, pulling him down to your height as you examined his features.

“(Y-Y/N).?!” he squeaked, breath catching in his throat as you peered deeply into his surprised green orbs, face so close he could feel your nose brushing against his, and all he could do was stand still.

His hot breath was ragged as it fanned across your face, and though he knew you were examining the sudden change in appearance, he couldn’t help the way his heart hammered in his chest. You were so, so close!! He swore if he just.. leaned forward ever so slightly, he could.. Catch your lips in a sweet kiss. He glanced down, focus going hazy as he zeroed in the way your lips shined in the sunlight trickling just barely through the gaps of leaves above him, forcing his own lips to twitch in anticipation.

Would it be so bad if he, hypothetically speaking, kissed you right now?

Oh, what a thought!

He couldnt tell. Hell, he couldnt even think.

Your scent was so intoxicating at this moment, flooding his senses, and it left his devilish desires to want more, fingers inching towards your waist.

He was knocked out of his strangely lustful thoughts when you repeatedly papped his cheek to catch his attention.

Body going stiff, his hands flung back to his own sides before jerking his head up to look at you once more. Had you been talking to him? Did you say something? He didnt know, his attention hyperfocused on… something else at the time.

Your aggravated tone cut through his body like a freshly sharpened steel blade, noticing the way your face scrunched up once more at finding he hadnt heard you the first time. 

“I said, what did you do to your eye markings?”

“H-huh?!” he stuttered out, only to internally slap himself as he took a moment to process the question, “I- I just.. smeared some mushed up black berries on m-my cheek..”

It was embarrassing to admit such a thing, especially considering his right hand is still sticky with its pigmented juice, droplets dripping from his fingers. He had half a mind to lick them up, sucking on the digits just to gauge your reaction as you watched him so intensely. No! Bad, bad Izuku! Stop that! 

“I-I thought it could be.. like some sort of ink.. b-but I didn’t have any ink on me so- so I grabbed some berries..”

“Is that why you smell so sweet? I was tempted to lick your cheek for a minute there.” Confessing that, you ended the conversation by spinning around and walking on. Delays were never good, especially since you didn’t have all day, and you definitely wanted to sleep in your own room tonight. The guest one was.. a bit too stuffy for your liking.

He followed you, huffily licking at the juice covering his hand and ignoring the stickiness coating his lips and cheeks.

Next time, he would be sure to use a sort of paint or something. At least then it could be marked off as some sort of fashion trend and not actual tattoos. After all, what innocent man had tattoos?

Of course, for his kind, they were common and apart of your identity, but here? It was a symbol of bad luck it seemed. Impurity. Not that he wasnt impure.

“Walk faster!” You called back to him, alerting the green-haired man lost in his thoughts that he had been walking too slow.

“C-coming!”

It wasnt too long before you had finally reached the entrance to the village, taking a moment to look over the old wooden arch covered in vines before walking past. Your sandals, as well as his own, clopped against the cobblestone road.

Though it was early morning, and the sun was barely even awake, townsfolk were already bustling through the place. Kids were running around barefoot, doing chores or having fun, farmers were wheeling in their goods in squeaky carts, calling out for business, and shops were being opened.

Distantly, you could hear the crackle of a fire and smell the pungent scent of meat being cooked sweets being baked in the air, only making you drool at the thought of consuming something so tasty after eating home-grown vegetables for so long.

The village was dead silent at night but in the morning? It was warm and welcoming, filled with friendly, smiling faces and gossiping mothers as they hung clothes out to dry.

You swore you could even hear the light picking at an instrument and the barking of dogs far off on the other side of town.

Birds chirped happily in the sky, singing their age-old songs as they searched for someone to love.

It truly was a breath of fresh air, the friendly atmosphere far different than the much quieter one in the mountain.

You missed it.

You were convinced for a while the reason you stayed away so long was to quite literally teach a demon manners, but you were quick to regret your mistake upon reentering this world. The energy of the place stabbed at your heart, and your fingers itched with the desire to stay here for as long as possible. Perhaps even buy some bread while youre here. Heaven knows you need more ingredients, and with the jingle of the pouch you carried ringing in your ear with every step, you were reminded you could actually afford it for once.

Sure, cooking and chopping vegetables was alright, a fun pass time that brought you comfort and worth, but damn did you miss being lazy for a change.

Besides, you now had the manpower to carry quite a lot, right?

Speaking of, that same demon was currently hiding behind you, hands clutching at your kimono sleeve as his shy face barely peeked out from behind your head.

“Are.. you alright?” you asked hesitantly, worried that perhaps he was scared or something set off some sort of weird sixth scent.

“I-i’m okay..! T-there's just so many people around.. I’m.. a bit..” he trailed off, looking down at his feet once more.

“Shy.” you concluded, nodding your head in understanding.

This was the first time he would be around other humans besides yourself, so it made sense why he was a bit timid.

In all honesty, it just made him even cuter and less threatening, not that he ever truly was as you came to realize the more you got to know this fluffy boy.

That's not to say it didn't also fill you with a motherly need to protect him, or perhaps it was pride. Either way, your cheeks couldn't help but flush with him being so close, a reaction you still were trying to get used to, despite being up close and personal not ten minutes ago. Then again, that was on your terms, wasn’t it? This? This was certainly out of the blue. So it made sense.

Walking along, you waved to the occasional person, a plethora of “good morning!”’s and “I’m alright, how are you?” fleeing from your person with each minimal interaction. It was a blessing no one has yet to question who the mysterious stranger with dripping berry juice on his face was, but it certainly made a lot of people stop in their tracks and look your way.

How flustering… you thought to yourself as you pushed on, eventually grabbing Izuku’s wrist and pulling him along with you.

“The shop is just down here.” you told him, to which he nodded his head, far too shy to speak. Hell, you were sure he was close to chewing his own clothes from nerves at this point with that look of hesitation, fear, and child-like curiosity in his eyes.

It wasn't hard to miss the way his head whipped around, taking in the new environments with near open arms, visually studying each and every object he saw, but never asking a question about it, almost as if he was afraid speaking with glee and wonder would cause too much of a ruckus, attracting even more attention.

You had no doubts he would drown you in them once you got back home, or maybe even in a few minutes if something utterly mind-blowing caught his attention, but for now, you had to focus on gathering things.

You had eventually made it to the repair shop, full intentions on buying the wood needed to replace the frame, as well as a new window covering. It was old and damn near rotting off the wall anyway, it truly was needed.

Though it certainly was unusual to have such a thing in a bedroom where someone could easily break-in. But it was the mountains, so there wasn’t much to fear. After all, who in their right minds would wander a forest in the middle of the night just to break into a poor woman’s home?

Leaving Izuku to stay outside to collect himself as he shook like a leaf in the wind, you stepped inside the open shop, immediately greeted with the smell of freshly chopped wood and burning embers, a fire burning in the back no doubt. This was a supply shop for home repair, after all.

“Ah! Little Miss (L/N)! I haven't seen you in a while, my dear. Where have you been?” An elderly grandfather emerged from the back, hand pressed to the wall to lean against it. For his age, he was surprisingly in stable conditions, no doubt from the strenuous work he’d done all his life.

It was hard to forget that the elders here always had an eye open, so naturally, he would be the first to question your sudden disappearance when given a true chance. So far you’d only seen people your age and children out and about doing deeds for the older folk and earning their dinner.

Just as you were about to answer, you were cut off, “Oh? Who’s this?”

Not bothering to glance back, already knowing full well it was the curious Izuku who finally manage to swallow his anxieties and peak in, “He’s-” 

“A ninja!” he exclaimed, jumping to your side excitedly as you huffed in irritation at being cut off two times in a row.

It certainly was odd that he spoke out so enthusiastically, considering he had been nothing but reluctant to speak the entire time you were in the village, but what was even more shocking was how he continued the plan of referring to him as a ninja.

A stupid plan you now came to realize, sounding out of place. You should’ve gone with a better idea and not have acted so cockily when you came up with it on the spot.

Oh, the familiar feeling of regret.

It was strange though, especially since you were sure he was against the idea in the first place, so why had he gone along with it?

Truly, you couldn't exactly care less. This was his mess now.

“A.. ninja.?” Furukawa, the old man, questioned, giving the both of you a perplexed look. “We haven't seen one around these parts since I was a but boy. What is a ninja doing here of all places? A meek little village like this?”

Oh. That’s right.

You had forgotten they didn't thrive out here in the country, but in the city and for generals leading wars.

What was a ninja doing out here indeed.  Boy were you not bright when it came to thinking on the spot.

Leaning back and crossing your arms, you decided to let the excited demon explain for you, since you certainly hadn't a clue what to say.

“I’m here for no particular reason, sir! I had gotten lost in the mountains during that thunderstorm a few weeks back, and I just so happened to stumble upon the (L/N)’s home. I was lucky she was willing to take me in, for I had injured myself and needed time to heal. I truly owe her my life, for I doubt I would have been able to find a safe place to rest and recover that night if not for her generosity. I vowed to return the favor, and you know ninjas, never one to break a promise, and so I am here to help gather things to repair something I had broken. Though I’m sure we have bad rep around these parts nowadays, I assure you I have no intention of harming anyone. I vowed to protect the innocent, and that is what I will do! I’ll fight the evil of these lands with my own two-!”

You snapped him out of his rambling by gripping at his arm, surprised at how he had managed to come up with what  to say so quickly. Hell, his eyes were even hardened with determination. He was very convincing. 

It definitely made you suspicious of what his true intentions were, if he actually wanted to be a ninja of all things or if he was playing a part and not realizing the potential consequences.

Oh well?

What was even more surprising was how the old man wept, dramatically wiping his aged, teary eyes. “Oh, you good man! We need more men like you around here! My son is a lazy lump of bricks who won’t even help out around here”

“I am here now! Allow me to assist whenever!” Izuku stated righteously, fist raised high and mighty.

At this point, you were just a background character in some sort of weird show as these two practically danced around each other with declarations and tears.

Shaking your head, you quickly cut them off, needing to get things done today and not mess around any longer, “I was wondering if you had the material for a new window?”

“Oh! A window!”

“Yes.. I need a replacement for the one he had broken.”

“You youngsters are always breaking windows these days..” he complained, wiping at his brow before hobbling to the back again.”One moment please.”

Nodding, despite him not even seeing, you waited patiently in near awkward silence, teetering back and forth on your wooden heels.

“Did I uh..” the green-haired man's apprehensive whisper barely caught your ear, “did I go overboard, you think?”

That question was enough to bring giggles bubbling out over your throat, only for him to frantically wave his arms about in front of you, “I-i’m serious!”

Your giggles soon turned into laughs, only making his cheeks redden from embarrassment before he wrapped his arms around his head.

“Just,” you wheezed, “Just a bit, Midoriya.”

You weren’t used to being near people so passionate and enthusiastic about things, especially things made up. It was peculiar and yet it still brought a grin to your face.

Groaning, he looked off to the side, waiting patiently for the old man to return and to end his suffering as you continuously poked at his rosy cheek.

“I think you’d make a great ninja.” you whispered in his ear, breath tickling his skin and making baby hairs stand on end as you leaned over his crouched form, his hands resting on his knees as if to calm himself, unknowingly leaving him wide open for teases he deserved after what had happened the day before.

Gulping down the lump of nervousness in his throat, ridding himself of thoughts he shouldnt be having again, his head whipped back to look at you, eyes glimmering with excitement, “Ah, really?!” 

You were unsure of how he would become one, but, “Yes.” you smiled gently, knowing full well already that he could do anything he set his mind to, a stubborn yet determined man he was.

“No kanoodlin in my shop!” Furukawa had suddenly appeared, damn near hitting the two of you upside the head with a stick.

You were quick to pay him for the materials, nearly tripping over yourself with giggles as Izuku looks nothing short of terrified with how the elderly man glared at him, no doubt piercing through his meek soul. Once you finished loading and securing the supplies in the shoulder bag, you grabbed two of his fingers before pulling him out of the shop with a friendly wave towards the grouchy old man who begrudgingly waved back.

A horse trotted in front of the both of you as you walked out, a loud wagon filled with hay creaking behind it as you continued on down the road in the opposite direction.

“That was.. nerve wracking..” Izuku sighed, one hand clutching the strap to the bag tightly whilst the other goes back to holding your sleeve, no longer cowering behind you as he openly gawks at the abundance of people strolling through the area, as well as eyeing up all the animals wandering about and making all sorts of noises.

“It was a pretty typical interaction to me,” you confessed, shrugging nonchalantly as he groans heavily.

“Are we heading back now?” he questioned, itching to beg you to let him stay if just for a bit longer. He was excited about being out like this, reading many stories revolving around normalities such as these. He had never experienced such a thing before, and it was thrilling, to say the least.

He felt as if he was on cloud nine, observing so many new things and being up close to other things he thought he would never get to see or touch, or, well, smell.

It was as if he himself was in one of the many books he’d read, skipping happily through each page as his wings twitched beneath the fabric with excitement, luckily covered up by the large sack of supplies.

He didn’t want to leave, but he would if you didn't like the idea of staying.

He could always come back with you another time, after all.

But damn did the prospect of going home at this moment dampen his cheery mood. Hell, he could even feel his wings pressed against him droop from inside the kimono at the prospect of doing so.

He was really hoping you wouldn't say yes.

He’d cross his fingers if he could.

“No.”

“Ah, well alright.. we can come back another time right?" It was as if he didn't hear you, too used to being put down and denied that happiness swelling inside his chest.

He continued to walk forward, head bowed down as he stared sadly at the rocks only to be yanked back as your hand slapped onto his wrist for the third time that day. He could get used to that if he was being honest.

He looked back at you, staring blankly as he tried to figure out why you had stopped and why you were giving him such a baffled look.

Had he done something wrong?

Said something wrong?

Or maybe his mere presence had annoyed you.

He hadn't the slightest clue, and he could only helplessly stare at you as he awaited a reason as to why you stopped, heartbeat hammering in his chest and fear squeezing his lungs, rendering him unable to speak.

You raised your eyebrow in question, and that's when it hit him like a rock.

You had said no, not yes!

Oh geez!

That sounds so backwards honestly!

“A-ah! I’m sorry! Oh, I thought y-you said yes!” he screeched, fumbling over his words and inwardly fighting himself at being so stupid.

He was about to go on and ramble out an apology, his nerves strangling him alive, but you had easily cut him off, “It’s alright, don’t worry about it, okay? We’re going to stay out and about for a bit longer. I wanted to show you some things, and get some ingredients if you don’t mind?"

Not that you would really give him the option to mind, besides- you knew that far off look in his eyes too well, it was the same look of wonder in your own eyes when you were a child.

It truly was endearing, you couldn't help but want to indulge in it for a bit, even if you were going to be doing other things anyway.

To hell with putting the window up this evening, perhaps the next. For now, you just wanted a break from having to train a demon by- well. Informing one instead.

“Really!” he exclaims, face immediately lighting up, dimples appearing on his cheeks as he smiled. He's suddenly jumping for joy, shoes making a loud clacking noise that catches the attention of village-folk once again, much to your introverted horror. “Y-you have places you want to show me!? O-oh gosh! Can we go see them now? Oh, there are so many things I want to see here! So many things I’ve read about!”

“Midoriya..” you called out to him hopelessly, wanting to calm him down.

“I want to see a bakery!! To- to smell the freshly baked bread and pastries! I can smell them right now,” he sniffed at the air, eyes slipping closed for a second, tongue poking out as he drooled, “they- they smell so good! I’ve always wondered how they mix ingredients together and fire them to make something so delicious.. How do they know what ingredients to use? How did they find those ingredients? I want to know! Do they memorize how to do it, you think??! And, and a blacksmiths shop! Swords are forged from fire, it sounds so magical, but there must be logic of some kind behind it! Logic I don’t quite understand yet but want to! I want to see it in action, know how they’re made in the first place. It’s from melting rocks right? Or, or metal?! How do they shape the swords? Which material and technique is best to use for the best result? Is that loud banging the making of swords right now? Or something else?”

“Midoriya…”

“Is there a library around here? No, no I guess there wouldn't be one here.. books? I want to know all about the culture of these lands, in more detail! I, I want to see how people's minds work, how they write their feelings or facts down on pages. You can learn a lot from a person based on how they tell a story, you know! Oh!  And I also-!”

He excitedly jabbered on, drawing laughter and gleeful smiles from the people as they passed, only fueling to the heat on your cheeks as they whispered about the cute, excited man rambling on about different aspects of regular life. It was almost too much to understand or even comprehend, let alone answer all in one go. His words were flying over your head from how fast he was speaking.

And so, you simply stood there, off to the side of the road, wringing your hands together as you let him express his pure delight with an abundance of words.

He was a curious person like you’d thought to yourself before, that was for sure.

It got to the point where you were sure nearly five or so minutes had passed, and you didn't want to see how long this could go on for.

Because you knew it could go on for a long while, having been with him for a few weeks now. 

It was a loveable habit of his, one that he always was quick to shut himself up for and apologize profusely, which always pulled at your heartstrings. He had clearly been put down in his past for being so wild, curious, and excited, and that was nothing short of saddening.

You didn't want him to feel like he couldn't talk, or ask questions, hell, even be enthusiastic like he always was. It brought a hint of sugar and spice to your plain life.

So, perhaps another time, but in front of a multitude of onlookers, ready to prod into your lives from how hard they were staring? Absolutely not, unfortunately.

Grabbing his sleeve, you yanked at his, successfully pulling him from his thoughts as his focus snapped over to where your hand was, “Huh?” he asked obliviously, turning to look at you with a tilted head but still cheery smile, green bangs brushing over his eyebrows, making you want nothing more than to sweep them away from his face.

Physical contact, as you learned, was always a better way to get him to focus rather than to snap him from his thoughts with words of your own. Words always made him flinch back and shut himself off, but soft touches somehow never did, keeping the same energy he started with even as he looked at you with wonder. It would often make you wonder why he flinched, or reacted in such a heartbreaking way whenever you’d cut him off with your own words, perhaps an untold story from his past waiting to be unraveled or kept under lock and key. Some things were best not to remember, after all.

Though he told you he was happy to be gone from the place he never truly considered home, you still held some minor doubts.

It was always the kind ones who smiled the brightest like a star in the sky that had the most to hide.

“Do you want to go and experience some of those things that you mentioned? I’m pretty hungry myself, so we could try a bakery right now if you would like? The one here is owned by a nice family, recipes passed down for generations. They got a pretty good grasp of things”

His brows quickly flew up, momentary shock flashing in his eyes before being covered by embarrassment, he had just now realized he rambled on. A momentary delay it seemed.

“S-sure.. eheh..” he chuckled nervously, hand squeezing the bags strap tightly once again as he used his other hand to wrap around his torso. He certainly was bashful for someone who was ‘bred from darkness’, if that red on his cheeks and how he avoided eye contact were anything to go by.

“Let’s go, then.” placing your hand on the much larger one glued to his side, you slowly peeled it away before gingerly holding it, ignoring the stuttered gibberish that trickled from his mouth at the action as you led him to the place that made saliva drip from his mouth.

At the end of the day, you were walking home on sore feet, arms clutching at a flimsy woven basket someone graciously gave you for free containing foods you needed to stock up on.

Izuku, on the other hand, was practically skipping, words flowing from his lips like a waterfall as he reviewed what he learned today, occasionally looking over at your tired form to make sure you were alright. He had offered multiple times to carry the basket, even going as far as trying to grab it, but you refused, wanting to do so yourself since he was now carrying a basket and a bag of his own.

Stubborn, ironically, was the way he described you with a pouty lip, and you had to agree.

It truly was a shame you weren't able to put the new window today, considering you wanted to sleep in your own room, but there was always tomorrow. For now? You were exhausted.

So much so you weren't even sure you could cook dinner.

Demons sure did have a lot of unrelenting energy. You were being dragged around all day, only leading a few times to the places you wished to show him- you didn't even get to show him everything due to his mind moving faster than either one of you could keep up.

Once making it back to the house, you managed to convince the energetic guy to at least continue wearing his hakama after he threw off his hat and the top of his kimono, successfully freeing his wings.

Things on the floor, he gets on his hands and knees, stretching his arms and back out like a cat, his wings flapping out like a birds as he flexed the poor things.

It was horrible how he had to stuff them in his clothing all day, and it truly did make you feel bad, knowing he must have held a form of discomfort all day, hiding it seamlessly.

Perhaps you could buy more clothes for him next time, or even fabric to weave together a kimono made solely for him. 

That would take a long while, but it would be cute, right?

You didn't want him to be uncomfortable in his own home.

You stopped in your tracks as this thought crossed your mind, a perplexed expression making its way onto your tired face, when had you started referring to this house as his home as well?

Had you grown so accustomed to him already that when thinking of this place, or where he lives, this old house comes to mind?

Or did your loneliness fight your conscious to bring forth such a thought out of comfort?

For the first time in years, you weren't alone. You haven't thought much about it until this moment and in a tired state of mind no less.

It was confusing, especially considering you didn't even know when you had started picking up the habit.

Looking back at him, your mouth fell from its straight-lined self to that of awe, your eyes reflecting the same thing.

The golden rays of a honey sunset dripped in through the open door, illuminating the man covered in scars, freckles and tattoos from behind, kissing at his soft, smooth skin and wrapping him in a cocoon of ease and light as he sat there, bathing in the warmth it provided.

His eyes were closed, wings relaxed and hands resting on his thighs as he took the moment in, inhaling deeply as a breeze filtered in, making his curls sway ever so slightly in a mesmerizing way.

Despite what he was or what he used to be, only one word came to your mind as you gazed at hi, ‘angelic.’

You couldn't find it in yourself to be afraid, for all you saw at this moment was a smiling man happily enjoying himself after a long day of bouncing off the walls.

You couldn't stop staring, even if it was rude, his presence enrapturing in the sweetest of ways.

You felt your own body warming at the sight, an innocent blush dancing on your cheeks, only to deepen as his eyes fluttered open, scanning the room, just to fall on you.

His pupils were back to their familiar, snake-like state, but yet they held so much compassion and kindness as if they were just as human as yours were, despite being entirely different.

Neither of you said anything, just staring into each other’s eyes in a way that should've felt weird or awkward.

But nothing about this felt awkward, in fact, it felt natural.

Like you were meant to be entranced by those addicting pools of green, glimmering with the yellows bouncing off the walls just to show your own silhouette in them. It was like staring into a never-ending forest with vines that wanted nothing more than to wrap you in a secure hug, branches of trees filled with fresh leaves swaying in the calming wind behind you as the scent of salt from the creek not too far away made you relax in their embrace.

You weren't aware how long the both of you stared at each other, but one thing was for sure, neither of you minded it, his own smile and reassurance in his gaze is enough to wash away any concerns.

The sudden loud calling of a bird snapped you out of your trance, attention flickering to the door just to see two birds chatting with each other.

“(Y/N)?” he had called out, voice laced with concern but dripping with sugary sweetness and desperation that was all too much to handle after such an intense moment, despite it just being eye contact.

But then again, the eyes were the doorway to the soul, weren't they? And it felt like much more than just that.

Regardless, you turned, ignoring his calls as you rushed to your room, hurriedly closing the door just to slide down it.

Hand clutching at the fabric above your beating heart, you just now noticed how your breath was caught in your throat, and how your heart was hammering wildly.

You breathed heavily, running fingers through your wild hair as you fought to make sense of what just happened.

The truth was, you didn't know.