#i just managed to shift a cold and my life has fallen apart

[ask-chivist]

I would say 'not to overshare', but this is tumblr. It's what we do here, right?

[anacdoce]

I Wish

Chapter 1 - Under the moonlight

Pairing: Astarion x you (f!reader, implied sorcerer)

Rating: T

Word count: 2k

Warnings: some angst; hurt; after the events of the game

Summary: Astarion fills his heart with guilt, thinking he is unworthy of your love and is trying to push you away from him.

a/n: This is my first fanfic writing and I'm a bit nervous about it. So please let me hear your thoughts about it.

This chapter functions like a prologue for the rest of the story, because initially it was supposed to be a one shot thing. But then my brain couldn't stop there and I have already some more material written after this.

At last let me make some mentions here: first of all let me thank to @bloodlessdarling who kindly let me use her beautiful photo of Astarion, which inspired me to write all of this chapter. Second, I want to thank to @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate for her kind words, encouraging me to share my writing. And to finish let me thank my husband, who patiently has been dealing with my Astarion obsession for the past few months and for his reading and helping with this fic (english is not my native language and I was never confortable on writing in it).

Read on ao3

Next chapter

Astarion sat by the fire, reading, a routine he had maintained for the last few months of your life together. But something is off. You can tell.

For a few days he has been avoiding you. He doesn't seem interested in talking or sharing moments of intimacy with you. Sometimes you catch him glaring at you, but as soon as you exchange eyes with him he just pretends that he is doing something very important that has nothing to do with you. And you started to get worried.

This isn't the first time, though. 

Since you have dealt with the absolute and got free from the tadpoles, you have been on a hunt for a cure for him, to make him able to walk in the sun again.

Gale is helping, researching every tome that he can put his hands on, and you have followed every lead, no matter how small it was. You know that you would do anything for that man. But until now you haven't discovered nothing, and sometimes Astarion gave in to the frustration. And you understood that. You understood when he was not in the mood for joking or talking. You understood when he looked at you with sad eyes and a fragile smile, saying "Don't worry Sweetheart, I will be alright. This will pass..." But in the middle of everything, you were, always, his safe place. Astarion always looked for your lap to recover and regain strength to restart. Never before did he avoid you. So, you are worried.

As you wander through your thoughts you catch him staring at you, with a sad guilty face, and just like the last few times you caught him doing that he just looks away from you.

Enough. 

You want to know what is happening, what is he thinking, why is he acting like this. You can't stand feeling apart from him any longer. Unless... unless that is his wish, to be parted from you.

"Astarion?"

"Yes?" he responded, not lifting his eyes from the book.

"What's wrong, Love?"

He shifts in his chair, uncomfortable. You can feel his tension across the room. His breathing is heavy. "Wrong? Why would you say that?" His voice is low, cold, controlled. 

"Are you avoiding me? You don't talk to me, don't look at me. You haven't touched me for days by now." You tremble. Your heart paces. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

He closes his book. You see him shutting his eyes, his hand gripping his book tightly. His stern face, half illuminated by the fire, and you feel, in that moment, he is preparing to shatter your heart in a million pieces. "Yes. There is something, I should have told you sooner. I think..." A pause. He finally looks at you. His ruby eyes piercing yours strongly. "I think this is not working."

Silence.

You feel numb.

All of your world is collapsing. Your head is spinning. If you were not sitting down you would have fallen. "Why are you saying that? I don't understand." You manage to say.

"You will thank me in the future."

Furious, you lift from the chair "Thank you? Why are you doing this to me? Why are you hurting me like this? I love you so much..."  And I thought you loved me too. 

He lifts his head meeting your broken gaze. “I… Just… Don’t argue, please.” You sense a little tremor in his voice. He clears his throat and continues his sentence. “Accept my decision and that there is nothing you can do about it. You don’t believe in it now, but you will be grateful for this.”

As you hear this words dragging from his mouth, you feel your legs starting to betray you. You lose your strength and fall on your knees, already sobbing. In that moment Astarion, instinctively, gets up from the chair and stretches out his arms, as if to catch you while you fall. But he stops himself half way, leading his hands to the head, grabbing his hair instead, seemingly desperate to maintain control. You can feel him struggling with himself. What is he struggling with? What is he doing? 

That’s when you see, just briefly, the pain in his eyes, that pain you are so familiar with.

"Astarion, do you love me?" Your lips trembling.

"That doesn't matter." He replies, breaking eyes with you, staring at the floor.

"Astarion, look at me." He takes a moment, like he is gaining courage to do it, and when he finally meets your gaze again you can see how destroyed he is. "Do you love me?"

"I…”

“Please, don’t lie to me.”

“I do, deeply... more than anything." He finally answers.

You feel your heart racing, pain in your chest. All you want to do is to embrace him. Feel him in your arms. He loves you still. That's all you need to know. "Why are you pushing me away?"

"You deserve someone better. Someone that can give you a real life." 

"Please don't say that. You are everything to me, I would do anything for you!"

"I know! That is the reason! That is the problem!” He shouts in anguish. “That is why I'm doing this. I don't want you to pass the rest of your life pursuing something that doesn’t exist! Carrying a burden that is not yours to bear!”

“What are you talking about? What burden? I’m so happy with you, our life together is perfect! I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Is it? Perfect? How can you say that? I am a bloody vampire and we live in the darkness, hoping that one day I may find my cure! I lost count of the trips we took to look for some vague clues, founded in ancient tomes or whispered by dubious people, just to find nothing!”

“Yet.” You interrupt.

“Yes. Yet! But I fear that day may never come… and I can’t stand to look at your disappointed face every time we reach another dead end. It breaks my heart… it’s unbearable.” He sighs deeply. “I see the hope fading in your eyes every time, the hope of living in the light again, seeing the sun! All because of me. ” 

“Oh my sweetheart, is that really what you think?” His suffering was real. Here he is, again, thinking of him undeserving of your love, of your caring. If only you could give him your heart for him to guard it, for him to understand that none of that matters.

“I don’t think, I know. Who would want to live in the darkness forever? I wouldn’t! But I have to. You don’t. This is my burden! I don’t have an option. But you have. I can’t drag you to this life any longer. You deserve better.” 

He was an empty soul after this. This must have been consuming him for days, keeping his mind full of doubts, making him feel selfish and unfair. 

But he couldn’t be more wrong…

You get up from the ground and walk to him, resting your hand on his face, making him close his eyes at your touch. Your warm hand, in his cold skin.

You wait until he is ready to look at you again. You give him a soft smile, full of tenderness and understanding.

“I’m so sorry, my love, if I made you feel that way, but I think you misunderstood my feelings deeply. I know that you are a master of perception, but I think you failed that check, though. Miserably.” you giggled.

“Oh stop it… I’m serious.” Astarion said, rolling his eyes. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Now, seriously, If I ever seemed disappointed it was not for me. It was for you, because I know how deeply you want to see the sun again, to live in the daylight! I just want you to be happy! Fulfilled! And if I am the one who can help you achieve that, I will gladly do anything, for the rest of my life, to give you that gift… as long as you want to pursue this, I want it too.” You pause. Looking for his hands, you hold them, caressing them softly with your fingers, feeling his hands holding yours firmly. “And I don’t want better. I don’t need better. There is no better! I want you! I want you, Astarion.” You kiss his hands, gently, taking your time. “As for the rest… I don’t care if we live our lives in the darkness of the night. I like it that way to be honest. As long as I can be by your side it doesn’t matter, really.”

“You are too kind my dear…” 

“It’s not kindness, it’s the truth. Let me show you something. Come!” Still holding one of his hands you lead him outside, to the open field in front of your cottage, illuminated by the full moon light. As you reach outside you present him the sky, lifting your arms to it.

Astarion frowned his eyebrows looking at you suspiciously. “So, you wanted to show me the moon, my darling?”

“Yes. The stars, and the moon, yes.” 

“Just perfect, Love… thematic, if nothing else.” He grumps in a bad mood. You want to laugh, but you control yourself. He looks so adorable when he gets mad at you.

“I’m going to tell you something that I never told you before. Do you know that I love how your hair glows with the moonlight?” As you say this you intertwine your fingers in his soft hair, brushing his silver curls. “And your skin? You don’t seem to realize how beautiful you are under the night lights, you are like a star yourself.” You gently stroke his long, pointy ear with your fingers, admiring him in all his fragility and beauty. “So please don’t tell me this is a burden. I choose you. And if not seeing the sun again is the price to be paid, be it. I will live with you in the dark of the night, forever, because I don’t need any other light than yours… you are my light, Astarion.”

His forehead meets yours, and his eyes are wet with small tears. His hands on your small back, closing your body to his. You feel him breathing deeply, absorbing you. There is no safer place than in his arms. You have everything you need, right there. “You silly girl. Why didn’t you say none of that before?”

“Oh… I don’t know, I never thought you would like to hear it, really, knowing that you want to see the sun so badly again. I only wish you could see yourself like I see you, how perfect you are with your imperfections.”

“But you see, I’m starting to get there. To know myself through your eyes. Some days are harder than others, with all of the memories of my past pursuing me… Sometimes it is difficult for me to leave all of my bitterness and resentment behind. But some days, some days I know I am much more than that. And you helped me achieve that. I am forever grateful to you. For everything that you have given me, and still do.” He lifts your chin to reach your lips with his, giving you a softness and tender kiss. “I am sorry… forgive me.” He whispered, still touching your lips.

You cup his face with your hands, feeling nothing more than love for this man. You never loved anyone like you love him. And you never will.

“There is nothing to forgive. Just promise me that you will talk to me if you are ever haunted by those kinds of thoughts again.”

“I will do my best, my dear.” He embraces you again placing his face in the crook of your neck, as you rest yours in his chest. “I never wanted to lose you, you know? Just the thought of it makes me sick… Thank you for always being by my side. I love you so much!”

“And I love you too, more than anything!” You feel his embrace tightens around you.

“Will you stay with me? Will you be mine even if that means never seeing the sun again?”

“I will. And I am yours until the day that my heart stops beating.”

[tteokdoroki]

an ode to winter | dabi.

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

♡ word count: 14.1K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

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

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

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

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

♡ masterlist | requests

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

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

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

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

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

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

“miss yn...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

for now at least.

that winter, dabi never came home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mmmamamamaa!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“shit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...touya?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you refuse to break in front of him.

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

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

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

“you should be.”

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

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

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

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

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

“yn, sweetness, i—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that you still wanted him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“g’night, touya.”

“sleep well, babydoll.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

extended ending

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“dada!!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fin.

— TAGLIST:

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

[crsjunkyard]

January Embers (Part 1)

A nice little multi-chapter wintertime fic so we can all cuddle and feed Viktor.

The Sun Also Rises Series (ao3), Momentous Beginnings, A Study In Pink, January Embers (1), (2), (3), (4)

Length: 4k

Summary: The coming winter poses new challenges for you and Viktor. Will they bring you closer together or tear you apart?

Chapter 1: Nothing Burns Like the Cold

A chilling cold snap descended upon the city, heralding the upcoming winter.

Frost clung to the dark brick buildings, glazing over their high windows like icing. A heavy fog hung low, bearing down on the narrow streets and casting the Academy District in an ethereal shroud.

Winter, in Viktor's opinion, was the worst season of all.

A permanent chill seemed to settle in his bones, unshakeable until the thaw of spring turned to the warmth of summer. The muscles in his bad leg grew even tighter, making occasional aches and spasms a regular occurrence.

The proverbial cherry on top, was you. Your grin had dimmed. Dark bags took up permanent residence under your eyes. More than once he’d look in your direction during the day to see you dozing off into the crook of your elbow.

Today you had fallen asleep entirely.

What was it? he pondered, that kept your attention so late into the night.

It was dark when he waved Jayce off for the night, assuring he would wake you and make sure you got home safely. Viktor was loath to disturb your slumber, but any longer in that position and you were sure to have a terrible kink in your neck.

Crouching down as best he could, sore tendons protesting along the way, he gently shook your shoulder.

“Time to wake up,” he whispered softly. “Come on, my little solnishko, it is very late.”

You began to stir, letting out sleepy noises of protest. He adored the disgruntled expression that tugged at your features as you woke.

“Mmm, no- just a few more minutes, s’too early to get up.”

He looked down fondly as you finally cracked an eye, meeting his gaze with a childlike pout. “I fell asleep again, didn’t I?” you asked.

“It would seem so,” Viktor said impassively, watching you roll your stiff joints.

“Sorry, I really need to catch up on some sleep, the bakery’s been so busy with the winter fete coming up.”

Sure, the bakery was slammed, but it didn’t keep you from sleeping, not more than usual at least. No, it was the frigid conditions that kept you awake.

“Your exhaustion, it- worries me,” his accent was thick with emotion. “I know something has been keeping you from sleep.”

Viktor tried to choose his next words carefully.

“I want you to know, if you ever wish to spend the day resting, instead of here, Jayce and I will miss you of course- but we will manage just fine.”

“No!” you protested, spending more time at home was the last thing you’d wanted to do. “Sorry, it’s just that- being here is my favorite part of the day.”

You looked down, uncharacteristically shy after the vulnerability of your admission.

“Then perhaps we should bring a cot to the lab, that way you can at least rest comfortably,” he teased, hoping to bring a smile to your face.

“Hmm- that’s a dangerous offer.” It really is.

Things hadn’t always been this bad, you used to love that little basement room. It was the first place that had been yours, that you’d allowed yourself to feel safe in. You remember when the baker handed the keys over, happily saying the room was all yours if it meant you could take over the opening shifts.

It was supposed to be a stepping stone, a foothold into Piltover, a path forward to a better life. Now you saw it for what it really was, a shithole.

Your decrepit heating system was on its last legs. The final straw came about a week ago, when you woke one morning to see clouds of breath puffing in front of your face.

You didn’t see much of the baker anymore, only to collect your pay or receive the occasional compliment on how well business was doing. But you’d finally had enough, seeking him out to let him know something needed to be done about the heating.

In lieu of purchasing a new unit, he had some repairs made to the older one. Making it clear that you were more than welcome to have a new one installed on your own, but he wouldn’t be financing it.

It was tolerable enough, at first. But in no time the thing began turning on and off without reason, sputtering and creaking ominously. You’d thought about asking Viktor or Jayce to fix it, ultimately against it, they’d worry too much anyway.

More blankets, that’s all, I’ll get more blankets, you told yourself, quickly collecting your things.

“It’s very late, let me accompany you home,” Viktor's tone left little room for argument, as if that would work on you.

“Oh no you don’t need to go to the trouble, I’ll be fine,” you brushed him off casually.

He wasn’t having it, “For you, it is no trouble, please I insist.”

You grimaced, knowing you couldn’t avoid your place forever but not ready for now to be the day Viktor realized you lived in a hovel. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him, you did. You knew Viktor wouldn’t pass judgement or look down on you. No, he would worry, and you hated the thought of being a burden on his mind.

“What if I walk you home instead?” you offered, flashing a melancholy grin.

He stepped forward into your space, amber eyes dark and serious.

“What is it that you are afraid of?” he asked quietly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

You caught his hand before it lowered, clasping it gently into your own. I suppose now is as good a time as any. “I don’t exactly have a- well a home- I guess it’s technically my home, which is good enough for me.”

One look at Viktors concerned face and you folded.

“I live in the bakery okay, the owner lets me stay in the basement for free.”

“The.. basement,” he said dumbly, still processing your confession.

“It’s really fine, I’ve been there since I left the undercity to become an apprentice. Every couple of months I’d look around for something better but it was all too expensive” you tried to shrug casually, knowing it looked awkward and forced.

“Eventually I guess I just stopped looking?”

He felt the beginnings of frustration set in, you had been sleeping in a basement? While he had a perfectly good, if not somewhat dusty, apartment?

“But you wished to keep this from m- from us?” Viktor belatedly realized he had no right to expect you to share more than you were comfortable with, especially about your living situation.

“It’s just- I’ve never had anyone over.” you weighed your next words cautiously. “I’ve never really had anyone I wanted to come over, that is, until now- until you.”

Oh. Sometimes it was easy to forget that you were just as new to this as he was. You were so warm, so inviting, you made it look so simple. He needed to remind himself, you had fears and insecurities of your own.

“When you are ready,” he cupped your cheek gently. “I would be honored to be your first guest.”

Viktor leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

You stretched onto the tips of your toes, arms wrapping around his slender neck to whisper softly in his ear. “Thank you, for understanding.”

*******

Something was… burning? Did I leave the oven on upstairs?

You were groggy, it must’ve been the early hours of the morning when you’d finally succumbed to exhaustion. You remember being miserably cold, even swaddled under a mountain of blankets. But now, oddly enough, you were sweating.

Did somebody leave the curtains open? Was it sunrise already?

Your stomach dropped. All traces of grogginess gone, you shot out of bed, horrified by the scene around you. Flames, licking up the walls, spanning across parts of the ceiling, and rapidly making their way to the rickety wooden stairs.

Smoke swirled in thick clouds through the confined room. Coughing violently you made a mad dash for the stairway, once it was gone so were your chances of survival.

You thought of Viktor. When you didn’t show up tomorrow would he think you were running late, or maybe you’d taken his advice and gotten a little extra sleep? Only to find out you had been roasted alive.

You had to get out.

Bolting up the steps two at a time, you swiftly reached the upstairs landing, slamming the door violently. Fingers numb you rushed to the tubes, alerting emergency services.

The next hour was a blur.

The fire brigade arrived quickly, extinguishing the flames with ease. It was the faulty heater that had started the blaze, surprise, surprise. After determining there was no structural damage compromising the integrity of the building, they left.

You vaguely remember someone telling you it wasn’t advisable to go down in the basement for a day or so, something about smoke and fumes. Of course, they didn’t realize that was where you lived. You’d mumbled a halfhearted story about being there late to check on the bread. They must’ve been ready to head home themselves because nobody questioned your nor your disheveled appearance. Thank gods the baker was on holiday, probably somewhere warm and sunny you thought bitterly.

You didn’t care. You were cold, miserable, and exhausted. All you wanted was Viktor.

*******

A slow staccato of knocks pulled Viktor out of bed. What time is it? Somebody must have the wrong door. He rolled over, hoping whoever it was would realize they were barking up the wrong tree.

The knocks stopped, and for a blessedly quiet moment he thought he’d be left to sleep in peace. Until they started up again, this time louder.

Storming out of bed he unlatched the lock, ready to tell off some drunk academy student for pounding at his door in the middle of the night. His jaw dropped at the sight in front of him, it was... you.

Standing there, looking half frozen to death. You wore thin pajamas, stained with… was that soot? Your feet were clad in waterlogged socks that steadily dripped onto the floor.

It must’ve begun snowing outside because there was a smattering of slowly melting flakes covering your hair and lashes. They’d soaked into your clothes, making the silky fabric stick stiffly to your body.

He reached out to you, tugging you into his apartment. Your skin was like ice under his fingertips, and you hissed in discomfort at the warmth of his palm.

“S- s-sorry,” you croaked quietly, shivering as you spoke.

“Shhh, no no- we’re going to get you warmed up okay,” Viktor soothed, raising your temperature was his number one priority, explanations could come later.

Hurrying around the room he gathered blankets and towels, before standing in front of you with a pinched expression. Your clothes were soaked, practically frozen to your body, they needed to come off if you were ever going to get warm.

“Before, uhm- before we can warm you up, we need to get you dry- can you take off those wet clothes for me?” he asked in a strained voice. “I promise not to look.”

He averted his gaze, wanting to remain close in case you fainted or stumbled.

You didn’t respond, instead reaching for the front of your sleep shirt. Your movements were sluggish, fingers shaking so hard you couldn't get the button undone. Frustrated, you tried just pulling the damn thing over your head, but your arms were numb and uncooperative.

Viktor saw you struggling from his periphery and he began to lose patience, growing increasingly alarmed by the blueness of your lips.

“May I?”

You nodded, stuttering out an appreciative yes as shivers wracked your frame.

Deft fingers made quick work of your top, pushing it from your shoulders to the floor, all the while Viktor maintained eye-contact.

His face remained locked on yours as he knelt to the ground at your feet, gently peeling your bottoms down. The soft pads of his fingers skimmed your bare thighs, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. You grasped his shoulders for balance, unsteadily stepping out of the ruined pants.

He hastily wrapped a soft blanket around your naked body, layering it with a few more for good measure.

“Here, let me help you,” he maneuvered your numb frame into his bed, sheets still warm to the touch. “I’m going to run you a bath, and then- we are going to talk.”

The distance would give him a chance to breathe, to collect his thoughts.

Tucked in the corner of the bathroom sat a rarely used porcelain tub, he preferred the expediency of showering, but was grateful to have it now. Flicking on the tap to a comfortable temperature, he rummaged around on the shelf, looking for that old bottle of bath oil he knew was here somewhere. Aha.

Seeing you like this had pushed him precariously towards a snapping point, something was fraying inside him. Viktor had a carefully crafted persona, one that normally insulated him from emotional extremes. He didn’t have close relationships, he rarely offered up personal information, and he never lost control of his temper.

He learned a long time ago that when you couldn't control your circumstances, controlling your reactions became that much more important

But it was getting harder every day. Cracks started splintering along his walls, first with Jayce and now you. He couldn't control his emotions, couldn't compartmentalize or rationalize. He wasn’t used to feeling so raw, it was overwhelming.

And now he had a completely new and horrifying realization to tangle with. Viktor spent so much time worrying about you leaving, he never stopped to wonder what if something happened to you.

What on earth could have possessed you to walk all that way through the ice and snow, in the middle of the night, wearing only your pajamas. Did someone hurt you? Were you running from something?

The thought sent his blood into a boil. If someone hurt you- he would make them pay. It should scare him, how willingly he would inflict pain on anyone who dared touch a hair on your head. But he was beginning to understand, perhaps the most precious things in life were worth protecting until the bitter end.

Ah, the baths filled, I suppose that’s my cue.

Returning to the main room Viktor found you trembling violently, still under a mass of blankets. He reached forward unthinkingly, hoping your skin had begun to retain a modicum of warmth, but it was still much too chilled for his liking.

Ooh that feels good, you leaned into Viktor’s palm, chasing the heat of his skin. He noticed your enjoyment, pressing a little more firmly.

“Mmm, you’re warm” you purred, nuzzling into him happily.

“No, you are just very cold,” he sighed in exasperation.

“Hmm, I don’t think so.”

Ah- cheeky, you must be feeling better.

“I’ve drawn you a bath, but I fear the sudden temperature change may send your system into shock.”

“But a bath sounds so nice,” you stuttered longingly.

“We just need to wait a little longer, till your body isn’t so far below it’s normal ambience.”

“Yeah, I got it,” you grumbled. “It’s just so cold.” Now that your extremities weren’t completely numb, the late night stroll through the snow was catching up with you. Painful pins and needles ran through your body at regular intervals, like icepicks shredding your muscles. Viktor watched your expression tighten in discomfort, feeling altogether useless.

“There’s a way- I mean that is if you’re comfortable- of course you’ll be fine either way this just might speed things up.”

“Spit it out Viktor,” he was rambling.

“Body heat, skin to skin contact.” Oh.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I mean- if it would be uncomfortable for you to-” Great, now I’m rambling. You knew, if your body was physically able, a blush would be spreading across your cheeks.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”

You searched his eyes for any hesitation, finding nothing but burning sincerity.

“Then by the gods get over here, I think I’m about to lose a toe.” He huffed a laugh, amazed at how quickly you could turn the mood.

Fumbling with his sleep shirt, Viktor pulled it off his shoulders before tossing it to join your own on the floor. The bottoms, he decided, would stay on. Now he hovered by the bed, wearing nothing but a thin pair of cotton pants.

Even with the heating system cranked to its max, the air still felt cool against his bare chest. Viktor watched your eyes roam over his form, suppressing the urge to cover himself. If he felt exposed, how must you feel?

Completely naked.. swaddled in his sheets… lying in his bed.

Something fierce preened in his chest, you trusted him. He could do this, he would take care of you. Looking down at your burrow, he couldn’t help but smile. You looked exhausted, dark bags under your eyes- hair damp and frizzed, creating a wild halo around your face. But still with that little grin, that little spark in your eyes that only ignited for him.

Lifting the blanket's corner, he slid underneath, immediately assaulted by your icy skin.

“You are an icicle,” he hissed. “Come here, you’re even colder than I realized.”

His arms opened in invitation and you gladly slid closer. A distant part of you was reminded of your nudity, of how many lines of propriety this must be crossing. But you silenced it in favor of snuggling up to the delicious warmth of Viktor's soft skin.

You soaked in his heat, wrapping your arms around his torso- tucking your hands under his back- even tangling your legs around his. Once you were satisfied that maximal contact had been achieved, your head settled into the juncture of his neck. Feeling him gulp as the tip of your nose caressed his adams apple.

No matter what happened after tonight, Viktor knew one thing- he would never forget the feel of your bare chest pressed against his own.

“I know we need to talk,” your breath tickled the hollow of his throat.

“We most certainly do,” his resolve weakened.

“Could we do it tomorrow, I don’t think I can stay awake?”

How could he deny you? When you were curled around him, sounding so sleepy and sweet.

“Of course,” he murmured into your hair, Why does she smell like smoke? He supposed that would be tomorrow's problem. For now, the both of you would sleep.

*******

[saintshigaraki]

HERE, IN THE MORNING LIGHT, IS WHERE WE’LL BARE OUR SOULS

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader 

words: 3.2k

excerpt: Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

a/n: this is...a bit too similar to my bakugou drabble i’ll admit. but i could see a relationship with ushijima having some of the same problems. he’s not purposely cruel, but god, doesn’t that just make it so much worse?

tags: angst, mentions of alcohol, implied sex, reader is full of rage, ambiguous/open ending

in case you want to read it on ao3!

You greet Toshi at the door, as you’ve made a habit of doing when he manages to come home before you’ve fallen asleep.

(Like a well-trained dog, you think, with only the most bitter sort of amusement.) 

When you lift your hand up to cup his face, a sweet hello, love, how was your day? on your lips, he sweeps it aside (gently, of course. He's always so sickeningly gentle when he brushes you aside. You think that might just make the hollow sting of his nonchalant rejection that much worse.)

“Have you made anything for dinner?” he asks, already walking away before you have a chance to pull him down for a kiss. Your arm falls unceremoniously at your side. A deadweight, swinging. 

I think I might hate you, you want to say, so,  so badly. The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue as you stand frozen in the darkened entryway, his shadow stretches, eclipsing you, as he walks further and further away.

But these moments of sweet burning-hot rage pass as quickly as they come and soon -- too soon, maybe, or not soon enough -- you find yourself turning on your heels and shining a too-bright smile, the one that shows too many teeth and leaves an ache in your cheeks. 

“Not yet, love, but I can whip up something real quick.” 

The words taste like lead in your mouth.

(Or maybe that's just the blood from biting your tongue.)

Who knows, you muse, bitterly, bitingly. What does it matter anyway? 

You make your way towards the kitchen.

+

Later that night, after he’s finished fucking you into the mattress, he grunts out an I love you, before rolling over and promptly falling asleep. 

His cum is sticky and uncomfortable as it cools on your burning thighs. 

You stare at the lights sweeping across the ceiling from the passing cars and try to remember days when you didn’t feel as though someone had hollowed out everything that made you and filled in the empty space with barely contained rage. 

Rationally, you know you weren’t always so unhappy with Ushijima. You loved him -- you still do -- you have for years. You could barely contain your tears of joy when he asked you to marry him and you didn’t manage to contain them at all the day you officially tied the knot. 

You were so happy then. So, so, happy. 

What happened? 

(You know exactly what happened.)

You’ve made sacrifice after sacrifice for him. Moved from country to country. Left your family and friends behind more times than you can count. Because you love Toshi. Because you love him more than anything. And because he loves you, though you know he doesn’t love you more than anything. It’s a selfish gripe to have. A rather dumb one too. Of course he doesn’t love you more than volleyball. Why should he? He’s dedicated his whole life to the sport. Countless hours, countless injuries, and setbacks, and he’s persevered through it all because that's what he does. Because that sport, that court, that stupid fucking ball, is what he loves above all else. 

It’s not as if you jumped into this marriage wholly and totally blind. You’re not dumb. You knew volleyball was going to be a priority in his life,  the priority. And you thought you could handle that. You did handle it. For 5 years you’ve handled it, the constant moving, the last minute canceled plans, the weeks of him traveling that have left you all alone for near months at a time in a cold home with a cold bed. You’ve handled it all with a too-wide smile plastered painfully across your face. 

But things have -- shifted, recently. Maybe it’s the pressure of what could very well be his last Olympics coming up in these next few years, maybe it’s the fear of someone younger, better, stronger than him taking his place, or maybe, he simply doesn’t give all that much of a  fuck about you anymore. 

(You know that’s not true. Wakatoshi loves you. You know that. Which is what makes this all so much worse.)

I love you, isn’t that enough? he’d said bluntly, and maybe a bit confused, last time you brought up your concerns after the third canceled date in a row. 

His words had made you pause. Was it enough? Why isn’t it enough? Shouldn’t it be enough?

At the time, you’d thought, maybe. Maybe I can make it enough. 

A year later and you’ve come to the realization that it simply -- isn’t enough. Maybe if you were a different person, a slightly better person, it’d be enough. But you’re not. You’re you, a strange, toxic concoction of hollow fury and selfish desires (for comfort, for love, for anything more than whatever this is).

You roll over on your side to face your husband. He’s on his back, like he always is when he sleeps, completely dead to the world. 

He’s statuesque, unmovable, untouchable, even now. 

You gently brush your finger over his brow, sweeping his hair to the side, and tracing his strong jawline. You’ve done this a thousand times. You’ve memorized every curve, every freckle, every scar. You’ve mapped countless constellations across his skin. 

You don’t hate him, you realize, in the dark suffocating silence of the night. Not yet, at least. There’s still too much love for him in your heart. Still too many memories of brighter days. Sweeter days. Gentler days. 

He’s been good to you. As good as a man like him is capable of being. And you love him so, so dearly for it. 

He has tomorrow off, maybe -- maybe you should talk to him. There’s still time to salvage this. There’s still so much love for him in your heart, enough to drive out the hate. You know it. 

He has tomorrow off, you repeat to yourself. The first full day he’s taken off in a month. 

You’ll talk to him then. 

You have to. 

+

The morning light is what wakes you. The gentle rays kiss your cheeks so sweetly. 

Without fully opening your eyes, you reach towards Ushi only to be met with -- cool sheets. 

Your stomach drops painfully and it's as though he’s taken your heart in his hands and just squeezed. 

You open your eyes, wearily, tiredly, and the morning light no longer seems so sweet. It’s mocking. A cruel, bitter reminder of better days and broken promises. 

You crawl out of bed, trying to stay optimistic -- maybe he just went for a morning jog -- even though you know that on days he has off he likes to sleep in. You try desperately to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he promised and you want so badly to still be able to believe him, even after everything. 

He used to have every Saturday and Sunday free, then around three years ago it turned into every Sunday, then a year and a half ago it turned into every other Sunday, and recently -- well, it’s been a while. A long, long while. 

But he promised he’d stay home today. 

He promised, you repeat as you stumble around the apartment only to find it painfully silent, empty, and so, so cold. 

You collapse on the couch, hunched over, your head hanging pitifully into your hands. You take a deep, pathetically shaky breath. 

And then you laugh. 

You laugh so hard you nearly heave. 

Two years ago, you would’ve cried. A year ago, you would’ve screamed. 

But now? Who do you really have to blame, but yourself? How can you not laugh? How can you not laugh at just how stupid and gullible you are? 

Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

This is your fault. And it has been for a long while now. 

It’s time to move on. 

+

You book a one-way flight home -- you haven’t been back in so long. Too long, you know. You stuff as much as you can into your single suitcase and pitiful carry-on bag. It’s all strangely methodical and robotic. You’re calmer than you’ve been in months. 

This is how it was always going to end. Honestly, you don’t think there was really supposed to be another option, any other way out. You don’t think this mess was ever going to be fixed. It was stupid of you to ever believe otherwise. 

By the time you’ve managed to compose yourself, get your affairs in order, and meticulously pack away as much as you can, the sun has started to dip below the horizon. 

The clock reads 9:18 PM. Your flight is in a few hours. You’ll have to get going soon. 

You pick out the nicest, most expensive bottle of red wine in your home. You were going to save it for when Ushi made the national team again but, as you’ve learned rather painfully, sometimes plans change. 

You pour yourself a glass, but in the end, can’t bring yourself to take a single sip. 

That’s how Ushi finds you, sitting at the kitchen table, toying with a glass of wine. There’s only the lone kitchen light lit in the apartment. The shadows dance around him, dark and monstrous, ready to swallow you both whole. 

Wakatoshi has never been particularly skilled at reading social cues but you can tell from the slight tilt of his head that he knows somethings wrong. You wonder if he knows exactly how wrong. 

(Not that it would really change anything if he did.)

The thud of his gym bag hitting the floor echoes too loudly in the silent apartment. 

He steps into the kitchen like he does all other things -- with purpose, with confidence. It will never not leave you in awe, even now, how sure he always is of himself. He’s a blunt force weapon, he always has been, and you can’t imagine a time where he’ll be anything but. 

He stops at the opposite end of the table. It’s the beginning of the same song and dance you two have done time and time again when he breaks his little promises. 

His big ones too. 

(You think of when he had missed your five-year anniversary dinner for a last-minute practice. He hadn’t forgotten about the reservation, he’d told you after he’d returned home to you sitting alone at the kitchen table, half-drunk and livid, but people were relying on him, is what he’d said, and there’s always next year.)

This routine is comforting, if only in the cruelest way. 

We can put on a show, just this last time, you think. For old time’s sake. 

Your eyes fall back down to your glass as you speak. “You said you’d stay home today.”

You look back up just in time to see him opening his mouth. No doubt getting ready to cycle through the same set of excuses he’s been using for the past four years. 

A teammate called. 

I needed the extra practice. 

There’s a skill I need to perfect. 

The Olympics are 4 years away...3 years away...2 years away....you know that, love.

And, of course, no matter his reason, his excuse, he always makes sure to add, I’ll stay home next Sunday, I promise. 

He doesn’t intend for that last part to be cruel, you’re sure of it, but God, if that doesn’t make it so much worse. 

You cut him off before he can even start. “You promised.”

His brows furrow at your exhausted, weary tone. “There was a team meeting today, I’m sorry I forgot to mention it to you. It went on longer than I expected it would. We can still go out to dinner if you’d like.” 

You give him a sad sort of smile. You’re too tired to give him any other. “I don’t think I’ll have time for that, love.”

Ushijima’s left brow twitches, as it always does when he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on. 

He takes a step forward, around the table. “What do you mean? Are you going out tonight?” 

You shake your head softly. “No, Toshi.”

You can’t help but wish more than anything, that it didn’t have to come to this, because you have loved him so much, so deeply, and you think that for it to end like this is a disservice to you both. 

His jaw clenches, no doubt already trying to contain his frustration. He’s probably tired after his long day. An argument over something like this is probably the last thing he wants. A good wife would care more. A good wife might’ve persevered, smiled through her husband's little lies and shattered promises. A good wife might’ve tried harder. A good wife might’ve dug her heels in, instead of letting go completely. 

But you’re not a good wife. Not now, at least. For all you know, you never were. You’ve always been just a bit too bitter, too selfish, too flawed. Not willing enough to throw yourself on the metaphorical altar for him. 

He’s close enough now that he can see the suitcase at your side. It stops him dead in his tracks. 

“What’s going on?” His tone is hard, demanding, but you know him too well to miss the fear that pulls at the corner of his eyes. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi is a lot of things. But he’s certainly not dumb. He has to know what’s going on. He has to have known that, eventually, this was what was going to happen. 

You stand up slowly, bracing your palms against the rough wood of the tabletop. 

“I-” you let out a harsh, mean breath. You hate that you’re doing this. But you’d hate yourself more if you didn’t. And you know you’d grow to hate him too, eventually, if you stay. You’re burning up here in this home, each broken promise and cold night add fuel to the already raging fire. You’ll be nothing but ashes soon enough. “I can’t do this anymore, Wakatoshi.” 

His pretty olive eyes narrow. The look he gives you is practically glacial. His fury has always been so, so cold. A stark contrast to your burning rage. 

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t understand.” His words are slow, methodical, and too even.

They crack open something violent inside your chest, something with teeth. Something mean and ugly and so, so sad. 

Too many years of biting your tongue have culminated into this moment. It’s time to strip yourself to the bone, to the ugly marrow. No matter how painful or awful. 

Don’t you two deserve that, at least? Don’t you two deserve to part ways having seen the worst of each other? 

“Of course you don’t understand, Ushijima,” you spit out, caustic and cruel. “How can you?” The laugh you let out is ripped from the very bottom of your heart, mean and poisonous. “Or more accurately, why would you? Why would you even bother understanding? It’s not like my unhappiness has ever really meant anything to you before-”

He cuts in sharply. “You know that’s not true.”

“No,”  you hiss. “I don’t. How can I? I’ve been miserable for years now, left to beg for scraps of your attention like a fucking dog. I’ve reduced myself to this pathetic creature. I-” tears cloud your vision, far faster than you can blink them away. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore, Ushijima. I’m so--I’m so angry all the time and if I stay here that’s going to be all that’s left of me.”

It’s silent after your outburst and in the air is something awful and too great. You’re both teetering on the edge of something terrifying. 

“If you stay with me, you mean,” he says, finally, and far too soft for a man like him. All signs of his previous fury have fled and in his eyes is a painful sort of vulnerability.

Your anger dissipates with his, mostly because you’re so fucking tired of being angry. 

Is it really his fault, anyway? What exactly were you expecting of him, when you took his last name? Were you really wanting him to change something so fundamental, so ingrained in his soul, just for you? How unfair of you, you realize now, how cruel. 

“Toshi.” You’re exhausted. And so sick of being second best. “This is more my fault than it is yours. I thought I could handle what being married to you would entail but I was,” -- you laugh, far less biting than before-- “very wrong.” You close your eyes, unable to look at him. “And now I suppose we’re both paying the price for it.” 

“I love you,” he says, bluntly. “And you love me.”

You’re finally able to meet his eyes again. You take in the planes of his face, the subtle pain etched into every corner, a brutal, beautiful reflection of the years you’ve spent by his side. 

“I do love you, Ushijima. More than anything.” 

“Then why are you doing this?” 

You swallow hard. “Sometimes, that just isn’t enough, Toshi. Relationships require more than love. They require work, and compromise, and some semblance of care and dedication, and you just-- you just don’t have the time for that right now, and I understand that. But I can’t keep doing this to myself. I deserve-” you stop and give yourself a moment to choose your words carefully, lovingly because you’re desperate for him to just understand. “We deserve better, don’t you think?”

He shakes his head, his hair falls in his eyes. You sweep it aside, a force of habit after all these years, something you’ve done a million and one times. Before you can jerk your arm back he grips it in his large hand. His fingers wrap around your wrist, unyielding. 

“I need you,” Toshi says, uncharacteristically desperate. You can feel the heat radiating off his chest. It's a twisted sort of comfort. Knowing this may very well be the last time you’ll be in this position. 

You smile, sweetly and a bit sadly. “No, you don’t, Ushi. You need volleyball. You need the thrill of the game and the taste of victory but you don’t need me. You’ve never needed me. And that’s okay.” You lift your other hand up to brush the stray tear that’s fallen from his eye. He nuzzles into your palm before you can move it, clinging to you like some sort of lifeline. “It’ll be okay, Toshi, we’ve just reached the end of our road. That’s all.”

He raises a shaky hand to trace the dried tracks of tears on your cheek, it’s startling to see him so uncomposed. “Please,” he nearly begs, “don’t do this.”

In your heart, there’s an odd brew of grief and rage and pain and love so mean you know you’ll feel the ache of it for years to come. 

You think of all the shattered promises he’s left at your feet, you think of the gentle way he’s held you through the years, you think of his string of nonchalant rejection, you think of yourself, bright and burning. 

Your mind spins from it and all you can do is rest your head against his chest and close your eyes.

a/n pt 2: there is some untapped potential in the fed up housewife genre and i am determined to unearth it. also i love ushi i promise i think he’d be a great husband under most circumstances

[mochikeiji]

Come Home

↠ Pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

↠ Warning: anxiety attacks, pregnancy, manga spoiler! chapter 91 (for those who have not read)

↬ Word Count: 2k

If death was giving you a sign at this very moment, it would be the cold ticks each second the clock on your empty apartment room echoed. Each second comes an outbursts of numerous emotions. On the first tick sent shivers on your skin, the second felt like small pricks of hair slowly rose up as goosebumps followed after, third was the frantic tapping of your foot on the carpeted floor as you bounced your leg.

On the outside, you would've been labelled as overreacting. On the inside, you were slowly dying.

As of now time felt like a never ending torture. It was a tug of war between trust in your husband or the one in your gut; a battle between mind and heart, to whom should you choose to believe in? How long do you plan on standing at the edge of the cliff not knowing the faith that has been laid out for you and the most powerful shaman? To whom do you concede to?

A critical position for you to be in. If Gojo were here beside you, not only would you have to wince at the feeling of his finger flicking your forehead, but also a round of uncharacteristic scolding about how bad it is to be stressed out or anxious because of the growing life inside of you. Well, none of this wouldn't have happened if he didn't left. But as all married couples are out there, you are one of the majority that did not want to tie their partners down from what they were meant to do. Especially if your partner is the most needed person in the world.

You couldn't tell him not to go out. Not out there on the field you've come to grow as a sorcerer yourself. The deaths of your fallen comrades and innocent civilians, the demands of the elders and powerful clans. Most of all, being part of the theatre death had directed. No one knows who'd be next to live another day or to be at forever slumber. And your husband was one of the main casts in this scene. Someone who'd always be near death's door only to keep taunting the horrifying God.

It was all fun and games before. It was either ride or die with Gojo during your youthful days. But as time progressed, and the upcoming family you both had dreamed of was at its peak, from that moment every thing came crashing down. It wasn't hormones anymore. It wasn't simple.

You were beyond terrified.

"Please come home."

Not even realizing you were already kneeling down from the couch you were seated, hands clasps together hard, the veins prodding out as if they were going to pop. A silent mantra of pleads to the unknown world you were stuck in. Chest heaving harshly, tears and snot mixing as they fell down the cushions. You didn't feel them. You couldn't see anything.

There was no way to describe the gaping hole that had swallowed you to your deepest depths of fear.

"Come home, Satoru.."

Was the last thing that had been uttered out from your lips before the dark hushes turned into soft cooes. The once imaginary prickly like nails that was scraping your body changed into gentle strokes on your back and onto your bulging stomach.

If there was no way to describe your fears, what is there to be said for the immense heart break of your own husband coming home to see you knelt down with cascading despair written all over your features? The image of the cheery, and powerful woman he's had of you now haunted by what he had came home to.

Though Gojo never had the brightest personality to everyone, he would trade every thing he has if it meant for you to be pulled out from where he had dragged you in.

He knew from the start loving you would mean a lot. You were every thing he wanted and yearned for in life. The love he always came home to. Cursing his naive self of erasing the fact that you were only human.

You had your limitations and this was it.

"Hey, wifey, shhh." the warmth of his breath next to your ear made you choke a sob. Having his body shield your smaller one from behind with his hands now trapping your still clasped ones. "I'm here, I'm not going any where. Not now or ever." his white hair tickling the side of your cheek as he rubbed the side of his face onto the your tear stained ones. If there was one thing everyone knew he was good at, it was being overly affectionate. Not that you'd complain.

His thumbs massages the back of your hands, smoothing down the veins in hopes of easing your grip. He should probably thank Yuuji for passing out hours ago, if not he'd be still stuck training the young lad and have you deal with this torment possibly longer. Even so, he was glad he had manage to finish up early. At your 7 month of pregnancy he wouldn't dare take longer. He didn't like being away, he never did. Always cursing at those who demand his presence. All he wanted was to stay home with you.

Home where everything is safe.

"Let's get you up, kay? May I carry you?" it was a shock on how uncharacteristically cautious he's become ever since your pregnancy. No one knew the Gojo Satoru knows when to tone it down on situations. It was all heart warming, you wanted to cry.

You gave him a small nod, feeling your body hoisted up from the floor and nested on top of his lap with ease. Never failing to amaze you how you managed to marry this man. The man you'd devotedly pray to the heavens would come back to you alive.

As his arms finally settled on your waist, moving at an upward then downward motion, he rubs your sides. Slowly coming to the globe of your stomach with a soft hum, he watches you deeply with a soft gaze behind his interfering blindfold.

Sighing shakily, you shifted your position a bit to the side, allowing yourself to lean your cheek on his left pectoral, listening to the rhythm his heart beat, sobs died down into sniffles and hiccups. You twiddled with his fingers placed on your stomach. The anxiety inside you barely disappeared, but tamed for the moment.

A light peck on your forehead was placed, snapping you back from the little world that had consumed you, down back in the arms of your beloved husband as he smiles and wipes away the left over tears, "Hi there, honey."

Focused on the warmth his palm emits, you reached out over his covered eyes, sliding away the blindfold, freeing the captivating azure gaze he possesses as they held nothing but love piercing back to your teary ones. His hair framing his adorning features, yet so perfect and lively he was smiling at you. The image of this man you wanted to wake up to every day. To welcome, to smile with, to live, and to love.

"Satoru.."

Cupping your cheeks in worry, the serene peace disappearing from him when his brows furrowed with his lips frantically hushing you. Parental instincts kicking in as he eyed your stomach in wonder how your dear child was holding up with the mountain of negative emotions crowding you, "Honey, you need to stay calm. Our little bun in there might have trouble baking you know?" he whispered close to your lips, foreheads leaned onto yours.

"Oh, Satoru." a broken smile formed from your quivering lips, "You're home, you're home." thumbs coming close to stroke his lids softly down to his cheeks. Fragile, that's how you'd describe yourself in touching your husband. Every day from the moment you lived with him are days you two cannot be separated from each other's lingering touches. Even so, on those days it still felt like it was too good to be true to have each other embraced away from the terrors of the world.

"I'm home, I'm home." sealing away your sobs with his lips to yours, letting you feel all of his emotions and unspoken vows within the action of only you two could share forever. The love he never knew he was capable of only for you and your child to be gifted of.

"I'm scared." pulling away as you shut your eyes. The dark hushes returning, coming back to haunt you of what is in store for tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and so on. The strings attached upon you two, unknowing who was in control of your faiths. "Satoru, I'm scared. Please don't go anymore."

Confessing all of your troubles, he tightens his hold around you. Not a chance, he curses in his head would he allow himself to be defeated so easily and submitting himself to the awaiting gates of death.

"What if you don't come back to me anymore?"

Not a chance, was he going to die after happiness is just within his reach. Longing for something so surreal his entire life. He wasn't going out without having a taste of the sweetness of he now calls home in his life. Not ever. Not when he knows he's the strongest and will continue to reign as he is.

"Honey loves, I'll always come home to you." a vow he seals with the gaze he has locked with yours. The golden band that was proudly worn on his finger from his left hand above your stomach, "I'll always come home to you both, my sweet loves." a vow for only the two people in his life that kept him going. He will always keep his word by heart.

Though it was known that it wasn't enough to fully assure you. The comfort of today was much appreciated and needed for you to finally sigh out one last bit of the sadness, and giving him a teary smile.

"I love you, Satoru."

A melodic sound his heart would crave for every day. Definitely another thing worth coming home if he could hear it again and again.

Smiling mischievously, he reciprocates the feeling by stealing another one of your kisses whilst cradling your body and stomach. He wonders how long would it take for your baby to come meet him. He could hardly wait anymore.

"I love you more."

Was the last thing he had said before his eyes shut close to bask in the warmth and safety of his domain. His and yours little domain. One day to be shared with either a mini you or him between your arms, erupting small giggles into the air.

He couldn't wait to come home to that very day.

Not to wake up another second.

Or was it a minute?

An hour?

He couldn't tell. For time was unpredictable inside the realm he was kept imprisoned.

"Oh, another dream."

An old memory he has with you over months ago.

A breathy chuckle comes out. Was it another thing to mock him of his moment of weakness? Where he could do nothing but lay down and wait for he knows nothing of what could and what was happening?

His bones were on fire. The caged rage inside of him waiting to be freed as he could hear the cackles of his own enemies having to won over him.

"Come home to me."

No, they have not.

The fight was still going. He knows deep down as his faith on his beloved students remains strongly as his love and promises to you. Somehow, some way, he will get out. Like before, time is the enemy. He could only hope that you're holding up for the mean time. It was only matter of time you would be giving birth as well.

And he wasn't planning on missing out the biggest part of his life.

Nor was he planning on letting his enemies run free easily. They were going to pay.

He was going to pay.

"I'm coming home. Wait for me."

Thus begins the string of faith as every thing is set into motion.

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)

[pastelwitchling]

Michael finally comes to see Alex.

Alex could feel the damp earth of the small garden he’d managed in the span of the past few months in his backyard sink into his sweats, turning his legs cold. He loved it. It was moments like this that helped him breathe, that grounded him to something warmer and kinder and better than his work at Deep Sky. And yet . . . Deep Sky gave him an itch he couldn’t scratch, an addiction he couldn’t let go of.

He shut his eyes against the thought and watered his cucumbers when he heard tires coming into his driveway. He looked up and found Michael’s truck.

Well, he thought, better late than never.

“Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever,” were Michael’s first words, and Alex smirked.

“I’ve been right here,” he patted down the dirt around a small tree, his nails filled with mud.

“You haven’t come to the trailer.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Or the Pony or Crashdown.”

“Actually,” Alex smiled, “I have.” The silent implication was clear; It just wasn’t to see you.

Michael shifted, clearly not knowing what to say next. Alex kept working. He’d done his fair share of fighting others’ battles. He wasn’t going to do it anymore.

“Kyle’s still alive.”

“I know,” he said. “Talked to him an hour ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He stood with a sigh, wincing at the pain in his leg, and dusted his hands off. “Guerin, why’re you here?”

Michael seemed to realize he was staring at Alex, looked away with a clear of his throat, and back again. “Max has been healed.”

“I know that, too,” Alex said, grabbing the small shovel and watering tin he’d used. “I checked in with Isobel.”

“O-Oh.”

Alex straightened, and waited. And waited. Michael seemed to have nothing more to say, and Alex would’ve been content with just watching him all day – God, he was beautiful – but standing here, pining and wanting and yearning, and knowing that the most he would get from Michael was a smirk and a joke and something self-deprecating – Alex didn’t think he had the strength for it anymore.

“Well, if that’s all . . .,” he trailed off, and walked past Michael to his front door.

He heard Michael hesitate, then start to follow. “A-Actually,” Michael started, “I was going to ask you about the – uh – the Air Force.”

Alex stopped and turned to face Michael, unimpressed. “The Air Force.”

Michael put his hands into his back pockets. “Yeah, I – I mean, is everything still okay with them? I was worried that you – Flint said you’d be court marshalled after –”

“That was over a year ago, Guerin,” Alex shut his eyes. “I’m not even in the Air Force anymore, so –”

Michael’s face fell. “So something did happen.”

He sighed. “Yeah, something did. I left. With full honors, by the way. And it was recent, since you’re dying to know.”

Michael faltered, then, as Alex predicted, that infuriating, sexy, exhausting smirk was there. “You’re angry.”

“No,” Alex turned back around. He heard Michael following him inside. “Anger implies I expected any different. You don’t know anything that’s going on with me because you don’t care. That’s pretty much in the lines of what I was expecting, Guerin.”

“That’s not fair.”

Alex chuckled. “No?” He set the shovel and watering tin in the sink, and washed his hands clean. “I’d give you anything you asked for, Guerin,” he said. “I’d tell you anything. You didn’t ask. What do you want me to say?”

“I’m sorry,” Michael scoffed humorlessly, “that I had other actually important things going on.”

Okay, Alex thought, his hands stilling under the water. That one hurt.

He doesn’t mean it, the rational part of his brain said. Alex knew he hadn’t meant it, but still . . .

Michael seemed to realize what he’d said almost at once, and his eyes widened, horrified.

Alex nodded and returned his attention back to the sink, holding the shovel under running water and keeping his back turned to Michael so that he couldn’t see the humiliation on his face.

“I didn’t –” Michael started, “Alex, I didn’t mean –”

“What do you want, Guerin?” he asked, too weary to pretend to be anything otherwise.

“Alex,” he tried again, and Alex could hear him closer. “I didn’t mean that.”

Alex sighed, and rested his weight on his left leg. “Guerin, what do you want?”

A moment, then in a low voice, Michael said, “I wanted to see you.”

“Great,” Alex said despite the ache in his chest. “You saw me. Anything else?’

Michael said nothing, but he came closer until he was nearly pressed against Alex’s back. Alex held his breath and waited.

Then Michael wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in tightly against his chest. Alex stood, holding his breath, not knowing how to react now. This was not what he’d been expecting.

“Yeah,” Michael breathed, burrowing his face in the crook of Alex’s neck. “Just one more thing.”

Alex’s heart stuttered as he felt Michael take a deep breath against his skin, as if trying to inhale as much of him as possible. Then he exhaled, and goosebumps followed the breath on his neck and shoulder. Alex found himself involuntarily melting against Michael, turning his head so that his lips brushed Michael’s temple and felt his curls against his cheek and jaw.

               Michael ran a hand from Alex’s stomach up to his chest, Alex’s skin on fire underneath the soft fabric of his Air Force shirt.

               The way they both breathed, it felt like an exhale of relief and peace after the long years they’d suffered apart. Alex wanted to turn in Michael’s hold, to feel Michael’s breaths against his mouth, his tongue. He wanted to touch as much of Michael as he could instead of gripping the sink’s edge as tightly as he was, feeling every inch of Michael’s body against his own.

               “Kyle knew,” Michael suddenly said, and Alex realized his eyes had fallen shut. Michael held him tighter. “You were talking with Isobel. Even Max told me you’d texted him. I hated . . . I hated that everyone got you but me. Everyone was worth your attention, and . . . you stopped coming to the junkyard.”

               Alex felt the press of Michael’s lips against his neck as he hugged him almost desperately. “I was tired of chasing someone that didn’t want to be caught.”

               “You caught me a long time ago,” Michael breathed without a moment’s hesitation.

               Alex swallowed. “Why didn’t you ask me?”

               Michael’s chin dug into Alex’s shoulder. “I hadn’t moved,” he said. “I didn’t want to know that you could’ve moved on without me, and I . . . hadn’t moved, Alex. You were always three steps ahead of everyone, I didn’t want you to be past me any more than you already were. I didn’t want to just be another bad memory you had.”

               Alex’s shoulders fell, but Michael held him tighter as if terrified that he would push away. Alex only rested his head back enough for Michael to press their cheeks together from behind, which he was more than eager to do.

               “You’re not a memory, Michael,” he said. “You’re . . . my life.”

               Michael didn’t say anything, but Alex could feel his jaw clench and his hands on him tremble as they held him. “Yeah?”

               Alex sighed and finally, finally did what he wanted. He covered Michael’s hands on him with one of his own.

               “Yeah, cowboy. Yeah.”

[heroloverangel]

Cloud City

We interrupt your regularly-scheduled filth for some surprise Sad Boy Hours.

You’re six years old when Oboro Shirakumo drops into your life. Quite literally, in fact.

It’s your first day of school, and you’re terrified. Your family only moved to this city a few weeks ago, and you haven’t had a chance to meet any of the other kids in the neighborhood. So here you stand in the school yard, shyly watching from behind a tree as your new classmates play together. You’re lonely, but too nervous to approach them. Your tiny mind is on the verge of a breakdown and you can feel the sting of tears in your eyes. “Don’t cry,” you whisper to yourself. “I’m not a baby, don’t cry.” You sniffle, but your train of thought is interrupted by the sound of a twig snapping above you.

There’s a boy floating on a cloud several feet over your head, one hand grasping a branch to keep himself steady. “Hi!” He grins down at you, and you look back with wide eyes. “I’m Oboro! Wanna be friends?” You gawk up at him; you’ve never seen a quirk like that before. Even his hair looks like a fluffy cloud in the breeze. 

“Okay,” you agree after a few more seconds of confused staring. Your new friend gives you a thumbs up, immediately loses his focus, and the cloud dissipates underneath him. Both of you scream as he comes crashing to the ground, landing on your back. You’re rewarded with some impressive scrapes to both your knees, and him with both his front teeth knocked out. You’re inseparable from that moment on.

You’re the best of friends through elementary, but things begin to change once you hit middle school. It’s cute when you’re six and happily tell your parents that you’re going to get married when you grow up. It’s just awkward when you hit puberty and start to discover that your feelings for your best friend suddenly aren’t so cute anymore. The two of you grow apart with separate friends and different interests, but still make it a priority to walk home together every day. 

“High school admissions are due soon,” he points out during one of these walks. It’s been storming all day, and the two of you huddle under the same umbrella in a half-hearted attempt to stay dry. He’s hit a growth spurt over the years and towers above you now; it’s hard for both of you to stay out of the rain if you’re not nestled suspiciously close together. “You figure out where you’re applying yet?”

You shrug, stepping wide to avoid a puddle that he ignores. “Probably just Endor. It’s close, and they’ve got a pretty decent reputation.” You nudge him with your shoulder. “You’re going for UA, right?”

It’s never been a secret that Shirakumo wants to be a hero, and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll be great at it. He stops walking and you look at him, surprised to see his expression so discouraged.. “Yeah, of course. You’re not? Their general studies class is supposed to be one of the best, too.”

You glance away. “Too much pressure, I think. And it’d be hard, going to school in a different city where I wouldn’t know anyone.”

“You’ll know me.” You’ve both had a grip on the umbrella, but now his fingers wrap tightly around your hand and squeeze.

“Oboro…” You’re not used to him having such a serious look on his face, his eyes wide and unblinking as they stare into yours.

“Come with me.” It’s not an order, it’s a plea, and your chest feels tight at the thought of disappointing him. You swallow hard and nod. It won’t hurt to apply, you think. You probably won’t even get in.

Shirakumo pushes a stray strand of hair out of your face and leans down to press his lips against yours. Your first kiss isn’t perfect; his neck is bent at an uncomfortable angle to make up for your height difference, your nose bumps awkwardly into his as you shift, a car drives by too fast and splashes both of you with frigid water. Still, when he pulls away his smile is as warm and bright as the sun. You’ll gladly follow him to UA. You’ll gladly follow him to hell and back if it makes him happy.

He’s accepted into the hero course without a problem, but you make him promise that he’ll go even if you fail. You’re more shocked than anyone when you open the envelope to find an acceptance letter welcoming you to UA, and you finally allow yourself to feel excited. You’ll be going to the best school in the country, and you’ll be there with your favorite person in the world. For the first time you won’t be in the same class, but you’ll still be close enough to watch him reach his dreams. 

The first few weeks of high school are a whirlwind of chaos before you settle into a routine. You have to be at the train station before dawn; every morning Shirakumo meets you outside your house, still half-asleep and groggy as you walk. You split something simple for breakfast most days while you ride. When you’re lucky enough to find two open seats together, you can manage a well-deserved nap slumped against each other’s shoulders. Your classes are tough but with enough effort you manage to do well once you form a study group going with the other girls in your class. They’re friendly, and they’re both impressed and jealous to learn that you’re already dating a hero student. They swoon when he appears at your side on the first day of school to buy you lunch, and you can’t help but gloat just a little at your good fortune.

The hero course is even busier than general studies, and you don’t get to see much of your boyfriend during school hours. It’s nearly a month into the term before he catches sight of you at lunch again and practically sprints over, flanked by two classmates you recognize from the stories he’s told you on the ride home every day. “Guys,” he grins and throws an arm around your shoulder. “This is my girl! The one I’ve been telling you about.” Your heart skips a beat at being called his girl, and knowing he’s been gushing about you to his friends. Yamada’s a bright, loud ball of energy when he introduces himself, while Aizawa barely mumbles his name and looks like he’s been dragged over against his will. They both seem nice, and you’re happy he’s found some good friends to work with.

Everything goes surprisingly well for your first year at UA, and your second seems like it’ll be just as good. It’s late one night, several months into the school year, when you’re woken by a tapping at your bedroom window. This isn’t the first time Shirakumo’s snuck you out of your house, but the window gets harder to crawl out of every year and you’re glad that graduation isn’t too far off. “Hey, come look at the stars with me. They’re really pretty tonight.” It’s not like he needs to give you the excuse, but you can see he has a point.

Ten minutes later you’re laying on a cloud together, floating a few feet over the power lines in your neighborhood. It’s cold up there, and you cuddle together for warmth as you watch the stars overhead. You know more about the sky than him, and he’s happy to listen while you point out a few things above you. A chilly breeze blows through your thin pajamas and makes you shiver, and he pulls you in closer to share his heat. “Was all of this just an excuse to get me alone up here?” You laugh, kissing his smiling lips.

“Not all of it,” he jokes with a smirk. “We’re past the halfway point this year already. Just one more, can you believe it?” You curl up close and listen to him chatter about his big plans for the future. You’ve heard this all before; he’s always so excited about the idea of opening that hero agency with Aizawa and Yamada. “I figure we’ll do the sidekick think for awhile, work up some solid experience, y’know? Then it’ll be smooth sailing when we break off on our own after that. Four, maybe five years?” You nod, running your fingers through his familiar fluffy hair. “And then once things settle with the agency, we can get married if you want,” he announces with only the faintest blush betraying his nerves.

“Oboro, what?” You bolt into a sitting position, gawking at him with wide eyes. Sure you’ve thought about the future you might have together, but the two of you have never talked about it before. “You can’t just spring that on me out of nowhere!”

He folds his arms behind his head, totally unconcerned. “It’s not really out of nowhere, is it? You know I’ve been in love with you since we were six, right?”

This boy is ridiculous. “Me too, but still! Isn’t this a little sudden? There’s so much more to talk about if you want to get married.”

He shrugs. “Like I said, it won’t be for a couple of years. We’ve got plenty of time to talk it over.” He grabs your hand and pulls you back down to rest your head against his chest. “I’ll wait for you, as long as you want.” You stay like this for a few minutes, mulling the proposal over in your head. “Just think about it for a couple years, okay?”

Slowly, you nod. “Okay.” You’re already warming up to the thought of marrying him. You’re seventeen, and you’ve been together for eleven years now. You can give him another five. Or ten. Or fifty, if that’s what he wants. In your heart you already know you’ve decided on an answer, and you murmur it into his ear later as he’s helping you climb back through the window into your bedroom. He’s beaming with happiness as he kisses you goodnight and flies off. You’re too giddy with love to sleep the rest of the night.

If you’d known what was coming only a week later, you never would have said goodbye. He promised to call you after his internship the night before, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen asleep instead as soon as he got home. You’re not worried until he doesn’t show up in the morning to walk with you, even after you call him twice with no answer and wait until the last possible minute to leave on your own. You arrive at school just as the final bell rings, and it’s a bit of a relief when you catch a glimpse of Aizawa looking even more tired than he normally does. They must have had a really tough time on their patrol, you assume, and Oboro just decided to take a well-deserved day off.

Your day is uneventful until lunch, when you hear your name called to the office. The principal sits there with your homeroom teacher and the counselor, all of them looking grim. A lump forms in your throat; you’ve got no idea what you could have done. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. We understand that you’re particularly close with Oboro Shirakumo from the hero class.”

You nod. “Yeah, we’re dating. Um, actually we’re kind of engaged now, I guess?” Your stomach drops at the sad expressions facing you. “Did...did something happen? I haven’t seen him all day. Is he hurt?”

Nothing in the world could have prepared you for the answer. “He was killed in an encounter with a villain yesterday. I’m sorry for your loss.”

You want to argue, insist there’s been some mistake, but the words don’t come. A sudden sense of numbness sweeps through you as it sinks in, and it feels like everything within you shuts down. Your brain doesn’t process the voices offering you sympathy and compassion. Your lungs refuse to take in air. You’d swear that your heart itself stops beating in some attempt to defend itself. You’re not even aware of your movements as you stand and leave the room while your teachers are mid-speech. You need to get out of there. You need to be alone. You need to breathe, but you can’t. You’re on autopilot as you rush down the empty hall, if you can get up to the roof there’ll be fresh air-

Completely blinded by your grief, you collide hard with another body and almost fall before hands grab your shoulders to steady you. “Sorry,” you gasp through the lump in your throat. “I just-” You blink back your tears and stop when you recognize him. Up close, he looks even worse than usual. His eyes are red and hollow, the dark bags under them could pass as bruises. It’s obvious he hasn’t slept all night, you can practically feel the exhaustion radiating off of him. “Aizawa,” you croak, your voice cracking on the syllables. He doesn’t say anything, only gives your shoulder a squeeze, and something inside you completely breaks.

“Oboro, he’s...” is all you can manage through your tears. You fists ball into Aizawa’s jacket as you sob against his chest, and he doesn’t stop you. He knows there’s no comforting you; the only thing he can do is let you use his shirt as a tissue while you mourn. You’re vaguely aware that a bell rings to resume class, but you ignore it. You can’t bring yourself to do anything except cry until there’s nothing left, and he stands there holding your shoulders to keep you upright. It’s the best way anyone can help you right now.

An eternity later, you wear yourself out. Your throat feels raw, your eyes are burning, and your fingers hurt from the grip you’ve had on his uniform. “Thanks,” you manage out, and he nods silently. He’s not the most exciting, but you’ve always liked Aizawa’s calm personality as a match to your boyfriend’s unstoppable energy. Your own emotions are a train wreck, and you don’t think you could handle being around anyone else after that news. “I’m glad he had you,” you muse out loud.

“Thanks,” he says awkwardly with a shrug before fixing his wrinkled jacket. “You should get back to class.” Aizawa walks off before you can think of anything else to say.

You don’t go back to class. The other students have noticed something’s off, and rumors are beginning to spread around campus already that there’s a new, empty space in the hero course. You grab your bag and head for the exit as fast as you can, ignoring everyone else along the way. You spend the rest of the week at home; your parents allow it once they learn what happened. It’s a struggle to get through the first month without Shirakumo’s presence hanging over you like a cheerful little cloud, and the rest of the year doesn’t get any easier. Your friends do their best to console you, but it’s a losing battle when you feel his absence every minute of your day. It’s all too familiar, too easy to see the missing piece that’s been a part of your life for so long. You transfer to Shiketsu for your final year, where no one knows about Loud Cloud and you aren’t stuck going through a routine that’s been irreparably broken.

It’s an uphill fight. You force yourself to do well in school, because it’s what he’d want for you. You throw yourself into work and establish a good career, because it’s what he’d want for you. You make yourself move past your loss and date other men, because it’s what he’d want for you. By the time you’re 31 you’ve got a divorce under your belt, a sad excuse for a social life, and a cat with fluffy white fur; you loved him the moment you laid eyes on him. You’re not entirely satisfied with how your life has turned out, but it could be worse. You can go entire weeks now without thinking about him. Sometimes you wonder what kind of life the two of you would have, but you try not to dwell on those thoughts. 

You’ve had the day off and have spent it happily lounging around the house. You treat yourself to lunch and settle on your couch to watch a movie with your beloved cat when an unfamiliar number pops up on your phone. You answer without a second thought. “Hi, if you’re out of noodles, I can just get rice instead. It’s fine.”

There’s a beat of silence before the man confirms this is the correct number. You don’t immediately recognize his voice, but you’re sure you’ve heard it somewhere before. “I’m not with a restaurant. This is Aizawa, from...from UA, when we were younger.” You can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, and he continues. “We need to talk. It’s about Shirakumo.”

It’s surprising how hearing his name is enough to reopen wounds you thought healed years ago. You swallow nervously, fresh dread pooling in your gut. You can hear how hoarse your voice is when you answer. “Okay. I’m off today, if you want to meet.”

You’ve got a very bad feeling about what you’re about to learn.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Black Ice (one-shot)

Synopsis: Black ice is considered one of the most dangerous winter weather phenomenon. It appears after it’s rained or snow has melted and then the rapidly cooling air freezes it, leaving it as a shiny black mirror on the ground.  A deadly shiny black mirror. 

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: swearing, mentions of hospitals and injuries

Word count: 8852

“God, Harry, it’s just one night!” Y/N exasperated, throwing her hands in the air. “One fucking night I wanna go out with my friends and have some fun. Is that really too much to ask?”

        “I haven’t seen you in two months!” he snapped back. “So, please fucking forgive me that I wanna spend a night in with my girlfriend and have her say ‘no’ one time, and make me a priority. Is it so hard to reschedule?”

        “Yes, Harry it is!” Y/N stood her ground. “Adam and I have been talking about this for three weeks before we could set a date and meet up. He fucking flew out here! To London! And it’s not my fault you haven’t been home in two months, so don’t put that on me.”

        “No,” he shook his head pointing a finger at her. “Don’t pull that shit on me. You knew about my job, you know how it can be, how much I have to travel.”

        “I get that, and I’d get your anger if I was fucking off with my friends on our anniversary without any notice or some shit, but I’m not! I made these plans ages ago. I told you about them! How could I have known you’d decide to ‘surprise’ me a week early?”

        But the thing for Harry was – he did think there was an anniversary to celebrate. It wasn’t an official one, and he hadn’t told Y/N how much the date meant, but that day was the day they’d met a year prior.

***

        He was in the middle of filming ‘Darling Don’t Worry’. This time they'd flown out of California to shoot a scene in the middle of the woods, in the cold of November, which as exciting as it was to have his acting career flourish, Harry wasn't too happy about freezing his ass off in the middle of nowhere.

Y/N, however, lived right next to those woods, her family house having been there for generations, while the location scouts of the movie had chosen the location because the aesthetic could double as the location of the woods behind the mansion.

        Y/N’d been out on her daily run (well, daily complaining because Y/N, with all her being, hated running, and thought it was a sign you were a masochist. But her best friend Adam loved running and hated going alone, so he bribed her with the promise of pizza afterwards), when they’d run into pitched white tents, filming equipment and barriers encasing a part of the path they were on.

        Adam’s eyebrows furrowed as he slowed his pace, and Y/N thanked god for that because she felt like she was about to pass out.

        “What’s going on here?”

        “Dunno,” Y/N huffed. “But we should probably leave.”

        But instead, Adam grabbed her by the bicep, dragging her forward to the set. “Nope. Come on.”

        “Adam!” she hissed. “What the fuck are you – “

        “Hi!” He flashed a woman standing by the railing a smile. “Could you-uh-tell us what’s going on? Why’s the path blocked?”

        “A movie’s being filmed. Sorry for the disturbance.”

        “Mhm, and when do you think you’ll be leaving?”

        That she hadn’t expected, given how typically when people saw a movie set, they’d be more than intrigued in getting into a shot or finding out about who were the stars, not when they’d be going away.

        “Oh, uh,” she stammered. “I’m not too sure. Depends if the snow starts falling and how much we manage to shoot. Sorry. But uh, would you be so kind and find a path around?”

        Y/N jumped in, flashing her a kind smile. “Yes, thank you. So sorry to have disturb –“

        “You do realise this is a public place?” Adam raised an eyebrow. “We have a right to be here.”

        “Adam, shut up,” Y/N groaned. “We can run around them, it’s not a big deal.”

        “But this is our route!”

        “Adam for fuck’s sake! It’s the woods, you don’t own them!”

        “Exactly!” he said. “And neither do they! They have no rights to infringe on our ability to get to the sea.”

        That’s when Harry had noticed her, and to this day Y/N had no clue as to why he’d fallen for her. He was conversing with Florence about the upcoming scene when his ears caught the very end of the conversation, green eyes snapping to where two people in running tracksuits stood.

        One of them was a tall burly man, muscles practically ripping apart his clothes at the seams, the other was a shorter woman, hands-on-hips, hair kept away by a headband which also covered her ears, and the most done expression on her face as she glared at her companion.

        They were talking with a nervous assistant; Harry could see by her stature and how her head kept snapping to the side in hopes of finding someone above her to deal with the two strangers.

        “Adam, I swear to god, I’ll punch you." Harry heard the woman exclaim. "Leave the girl alone! We can run around.”

        “But I –“

        “Adam!”

        “Fine,” he grumbled as he threw the assistant and apologetic look. “Sorry.”

        “ ‘S okay. Have my preferred cycling route as well, so yeah… Sorry.”

        Harry watched as the woman next to the person, Adam, shook her head and gestured to where the barriers curved around, starting up on a slow jog, and when they passed where he was standing by the trailers, he could hear them still arguing. 

        “Oh my god,” Harry heard her whisper while looking at the ground. “I’m friends with a fucking Karen.”

        “I am NOT a – you’re Harry Fucking Styles!” Adam shouted so hard, it startled Y/N, and when she looked over, it was like a deer in headlights before relaxing and both of them slowed their pace.

        “Sorry,” she gave him an awkward glance. “He’s a fan, but we’ll be going and stop bothering you...”

        “No, no,” Harry shook his head, putting his hands in his coat’s pockets and smiling. “ ‘S alright, you’re no bother. I’m always happy to talk to a fan.”

        “Yes, well, don’t encourage him. Soon enough, you’ll be besties, and Adam here’ll be turning your life into absolute chaos.”

        He scoffed looking down at his friend. “I’d like to think I’m taking you out of your boring routine, Y/N, and giving it some spice.”

        “Anyway,” she gritted out. “It was lovely to meet you, but uh, we should probably be on our way. You have to be somewhere.”

        Y/N’s eyes glanced over Harry’s shoulder, where a nervous AD stood, bouncing on her feet, a weary smile on her face as she caught the singer’s eyes and motioned with her head he was needed back on set.

        Harry nodded and wanted to turn back to tell the two to come by whenever they wanted (well mainly Y/N), but when he turned around, the two were already quite a few feet away. Just as he was about to leave, he heard Y/N shout, “Congratulations on the three Grammy nominations, by the way. ‘Fine Line’ was amazing.”

        “And that’s a compliment!” Adam hollered jogging backwards. “She only listens to shit from the early 2000s.”

        “Adam, shut up!”

        With that, Harry was left to watch the two disappear behind the trees, a feeling he was quite familiar with settling in his chest.

        It was three days later, when he saw Y/N approaching the set barriers, hands in her pockets, as she rolled her neck. Their eyes met, and even, from the distance, he could see her smile split apart her face, but when she just waved without the intention of coming any closer to the lot, Harry rushed to the side calling out to her. “Hey!” 

        “Hey!” Y/N responded chuckling and ducking her head down. “You alright?”

        “ ‘M alive. How ‘bout you? You doin’ fine?’”

        “The bar’s so low?”

        “I guess. Won’t be able to get you to nurse me back to health though, which is why I’m in the cold again.”

        She wiggled her eyebrows at Harry. “If you wanted to see me, there's no need to lose limbs or bits of yourself.”

        Harry hadn’t expected her to be so upfront, but he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t like it. Made it easier for him to understand if his advances were welcome or if he should back off. “So uh, no Adam today?”

        “No, he has a late shift at work. Which means I’m spared from the running.”

        “Not a fan?” he looked at her with a quirked brow, seemingly saying ‘you’re sure dressed like you are’.

        “Do I look like someone who likes stabbing pain in her side and having her heart ripped out of her chest?

        “You’re just not breathing properly.”

        Y/N sighed. “If one of you gives me any more advice about how to properly run when I don’t even want to run, I swear I’ll stab you.”

        “Okay!” he threw his hands up in surrender, laughing. “No more talk about running if I wanna keep my head on my shoulders. Where are you uh going? You don’t have to answer, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

        Y/N squealed on the inside, but bit her lip to keep the grin away. She’d been dying to talk to Harry since they’d briefly met but had no real reason. Not that she had one now, but she’d had a horrible day at work and needed to clear her head, and what was better than the forest air (also she could scream there without anyone really caring). “You’re not, so don’t worry. I’m uh I’m going to the sea.”

        Harry’s eyebrows rose. “There’s sea nearby?”

        “You’re like a fifteen-minute walk away from it,” she chuckled, stuffing her hands in her coat’s pockets. “Should really be more aware of your surroundings.”

        “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

        Y/N tilted her head. “Yeah, you’re kind of right. But it’s places like these where you can find the best spots.”

        “Will you show me then?”

        She looked at him with an unreadable expression, and he could only hope his nervousness wasn’t as apparent, because Harry was more than convinced his erratically beating heart could be heard miles away. But then she nodded, giving him a wide grin, making one of his own bloom on his face. 

“You sure you won’t freeze on your way there?” she said in a sarcastic tone eyeing him up and down, and Harry shoved her a bit.   

        He donned one of the standard down-jackets issued for the movie with winter boots, but given the costume underneath, he was chilled to the bone. “It’s bloody cold, and my toes are freezing off. How are you still standing?”

        “Insulated shoes and thermal clothes. Kinda boiling actually.”

        “I should steal ‘em.” He smiled at her. “Probably have frostbite by now.”

        “Wow, you people from the South UK really are weak.”

        Harry’s gasp made her smile as wide as a Cheshire cat. “How dare you!” He dramatically placed a hand on his chest, Y/N’s laughter erupting through the air. It cut through the yells and shouts from the filming crew, and made a warmth spread in his chest. “How do you know about the South versus North? You don’t sound like you’re from the UK.”

        “Studied there for three years; had loads of flatmates from all around, let alone course mates.” Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “And to say that I thrived on the chaos  was when you said North was better than the South would be an understatement.”

        “Well, I guess I know where your loyalties lie.”

        “Did you expect me to immediately swoon over you?” Y/N batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, Mr Harry Styles. Your voice in ‘Kiwi’ was so good it fucked me to cloud nine. Will you please do that to me with your dick instead? Which you should take as a compliment again, considering kiwi is the only thing I’m allergic to.”

        “Wait,” he looked at her, eyebrows up to the middle of his forehead. “So you have heard my stuff?”

        “Well, I don’t live completely under a rock. I did say 'Fine Line' was amazing.”

        “But you don’t really like it?”

        Y/N shook her head. “ ‘S not that I don’t like yours or other pop stuff, ‘s just that I have a preference, and I guess it’s, as Adam said, ‘early 2000s shit’.”

        A sly smile appeared on Harry’s face. “But could that include by any chance 'One Direction'?”

        “Afraid not,” Y/N sighed giving him a pout. “When you came onto the scene, my heart was already taken by a boyband. And I can be a lot of things, but I most definitely a loyal bitch.”

        “One band at a time kind of gal?”

        “Exactly.” She beamed. God Harry had never wanted to kiss a person that bad. 

        “Duly noted, but I will need to know who they are, and how many graves do I have to dig? You know, for research purposes.”

        “Going method now?”

        “What’dya mean?”

        Y/N shrugged sniffling a bit from the frosty weather. “Looked up a little bit about the movie. Need to know what kind of people might be around in the area. Psychological thriller. Wife. Rich husband. A dark secret. My guess – someone’s dead and buried. Also, the huge pit we walked past was kind of a give-away.”

        He paused for a second before nodding. “Fair enough.”

        A comfortable silence fell between the two as Y/N motioned with her head to where they needed to turn and made their way onto a new path when she spoke. “ ‘S not that I wasn’t a fan,” Y/N shrugged glancing at Harry from the side. “The songs were really catchy, but I guess I got tired of them? Like they were on the radio so much, it was a relief I didn’t have to hear the five of you singing about how I don’t know I’m beautiful.”

        Harry threw his head back in a laugh. “Don’t worry. Sometimes we’d get sick of it ourselves. But umm, ‘Fine Line’… You said you liked it… Do ya’ have a favourite song?”

        Y/N cringed. “Is it cliché if I say ‘Golden’? Because it’s ‘Golden’. I’m a sucker for a slow and then a ‘bam!’ kind of an opening.”

        Harry shook his head. Now he was the one biting back a grin. “ ‘S not cliché. Was one of my favourites to write, so I’m glad you appreciate it.”

        “Also, it makes me feel sunny? If that makes sense? Like – like when I listen to it, I feel warm and safe and just happy...”

        He’d be lying if he said his heart wasn’t pounding in his chest at her words. Warm. Safe. Sunny. “Well,” Harry cleared his throat to keep the words ‘One day I’ll marry you’ at bay. Fuck, he'd only known her for like twenty minutes! “I’m glad you like it more than my previous stuff.”

        “You just love putting me in uncomfortable situations, don’t you?”

        He smiled, nudging her shoulder with his, and was just about gearing up to take a breath and ask Y/N out (before he could ask to marry her), when quick steps from behind him drew their attention. 

        Dressed in a typical 50s housewife dress with a black coat on top, Florence Pugh came to stand beside them, and Harry swore he saw mischief twinkle in her eyes as she raked them over both people and then settled on Harry’s companion.

        “Hi!” she said giving Y/N a bright smile, and a wink to Harry, which passed the other girl’s head, given how she was absolutely fangirling right now. “I’m Florence.”

        “I – yeah – I – you – I love you,” Y/N finally breathed out. “Fuck, I just, you know, 'Midsommar' was a fever dream, but I absolutely loved it, and I can’t wait for 'Black Widow' to come out. Oh my god, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

        “Please don’t.” She laughed grabbing onto Y/N’s shoulder. “Feels like I already know you, but I’ve been dying to meet you actually. Created quite the commotion yesterday.”

        You know how they say men can think of absolutely nothing, like have a completely blank page in their head? Yeah, Y/N was having that exact moment. 

        Florence tutted crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Harry with mock disappointment. “But Harry here just kept talking about you, without any intention of inviting you to the trailers, so I had to take things into my own hands.”

        “You’ve been wanting to meet me?” Y/N breathed out, hands going into her hair, looking at Harry. “Oh my god, what is happening? Am I hallucinating?”

        “No, you’re not,” Harry grumbled glaring at Florence. “Unfortunately. But we were on our way to the sea, so I’ll see you back on se-“

        “Hello there,” Chris Pine’s smooth voice interrupted them, as he extended a hand for Y/N to shake as he jogged up to the trio. “I’m Chris.”

        “Wow, your eyes are even bluer in real life.” Her own Y/E/C ones widened. “Did I just say that out loud?”

        “You did,” Chris chuckled, “but I most certainly take it as a compliment. You said you were going to the sea?”

        “Uh, yeah,” Y/N breathed out still gazing into Pine’s eyes. “Wanna join?”

        Harry wanted to scream, but he couldn’t really. As much he wanted to tell both Florence and Chris to go away, he didn't. Seeing Y/N’s eyes light up as the two other actors conversed with her, laughed and joked around, made his heart expand.

        It was insane to him, that a woman he’d seen twice in his life could have such a huge impact. It was like she’d been his missing part. Well, no. Harry didn’t like that notion – that the ‘right’ person would complete someone. People were complete on their own, but it was true to him that there was someone out there that’d make each and every moment special, someone who would help the other become better, but also hold them accountable when needed. 

        They wandered around the seashore, which like Y/N had said, was a fifteen-minute walk, for about half an hour before turning back to the woods.

        By that point, she’d somewhat calmed down, and could actually comprehend what Chris and Florence were saying to her, and it was rather enjoyable to ask all the questions about Hollywood and the industry most people wouldn’t say on the record. 

        At around four PM when all of them got back to set and Olivia came to tell them they were wrapping up for the day, Florence, and Chris split from Y/N, telling her to come by whenever she wanted, while Harry said he’d walk her to the end of the trail.

        “You know I’ll be fine. I grew up here, know these paths like the back of my hand.”

        “ ‘S alright,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure they won’t mind much if I come back ten minutes later.”

        “You know, you’re not how I thought you’d be.”

        “What’dya mean?”

        “I – I don’t even really know… just not how I imagined you.”

        Harry didn’t know what to really do with that information, but the look on Y/N’s face most definitely didn’t seem like she meant it in a bad way. In fact, her shy smile and fleeting glances told him otherwise. At least he hoped he read her features right.

        They said goodbye with soft ‘see you laters' and he watched her throw one last glance at him over her shoulder before he himself retreated and ventured to the trailers to start de-shedding the character of Jack for the night.

        Harry plopped down in his seat with a groan, fishing out his phone from the pocket while the hair and make-up team did their work, taking the products off his face before applying moisturiser to the stressed skin.

        Florence poked him in the cheek, and he swatted away at her hand, looking up from Instagram (or his attempts to find Y/N with just knowing her first name). “What’s wrong?” she asked, poking his pouting face again.

        “She literally fangirled about everyone but me.” He huffed sliding down even further in his seat. 

        Florence raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, Styles?”

        “No,” he scoffed crossing his arms. “Why would I be jealous?”

        “Because literally both mornings that we've got here, you’ve been fidgety, keeping a watch of the path, and didn't calm down until Y/N appeared just now. So I’d say you’re absolutely smitten with the girl and are jealous because she’s more of a fan of us than you.”

        “I know she likes me.” His eyebrows furrowed. “I think. She hasn’t told me to fuck off.”

        “She’s a stranger you met in the middle of the woods. You should hope she likes you. But not too much. Otherwise, it could so easily become a scene out of a horror movie.”

        Chris bit his lip looking at Olivia, who’d come in the trailer after having seen the group come back with an almost heartbroken gaze – it was clear as a summer’s day Harry was struck by the girl, but they had to face the music. “Harry,” he started. “You – you do realise we end filming here in two weeks, right? And she’s a local.”

        “And?” his eyebrows furrowed at Chris’ words.

        “You’ll be leaving in two weeks for another three months of filming, while she stays here. I don’t – I don’t want to see you hurt, but you have to realise that most likely nothing will happen.”

        “And what makes you say that? Maybe she could come with.”

        “Y/N is her own person with her own life, job and friends, which, as it seems is all set here.”

        “Besides you don't really even know her,” Olivia said as well. “It's been two days."

        “Sometimes a day is enough.”

        A silence settled over them, as Harry tapped his phone against his nails.

        “You guys, come on!” Florence came to his defence. “He likes her. Why not give it a shot?”

He'd flashed her a thankful smile and mouthed a 'thank you' to which she just gave him an encouraging nod. She was on his side. She believed he could do it. And he did. Using Florence's faith in him as a catalyst, a day later when Y/N had gone on her run with Adam, Harry had excused himself and joined the two. 

        Adam was thrilled to the bone, but he was also competitive, so after ten minutes of trying to persuade the woman to run faster so he could beat his previous time, he took off on his own, with a promise of meeting up by the shore. That’s when Harry grabbed Y/N by her bicep and stalled them both, confusion written all over her features.

        “I uh,” he started. “I wanted to ask you something.”

        “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

        “I – “ he stuttered taking in a deep breath. “I – uh – and you have zero obligations to respond, but uh – I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me sometime?”

        That made Y/N do a double-take. “You want to go out? On a date? With me?”

        “Ye – yeah.” It was uncertain how the word came out, but it felt so good to say it. “Yes, I really do.”

        “Sorry.” She shook her head looking at the ground with furrowed brows. “Sorry’s just, kinda hard to believe it.”

        “ ‘Nd why’s that?”

        “Well because the first time we met, I looked like a sweaty mess, the second, I could barely function around your friends and co-workers, and now, well now I look like a sweaty mess again.”

        “So?”

        “I just –” Y/N laughed but waved him off. “Never mind.”

         Fear instantly took hold of his core at her statement, so he rushed to salvage what could be salvaged. “No, I mean if you don’t want, you - you don’t have to say ‘yes’. I’m not gonna be upset or any –“

        “Harry!” This time Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder to stop his ramblings. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

        “You – you would?”

        “Yes.” Her smile blinded him like the golden rays of sun which broke through the overcast sky. “I’d like to very much so.”

        But it was Y/N’s tearful huff, a storm cloud compared to the warm light from his memories, which brought him out of the fond thoughts and into the icy right now.

        “Because unless it revolves around Harry Styles, it doesn’t matter, right?” she let out a pained laugh. “Because unless he’s there to have all the spotlight on him, it’s not important. Unless it’s not something he wants to take part in, it immediately needs to be cancelled or rescheduled because god forbid someone made plans without him.”

        He grunted in disagreement. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

        “No,” she snapped, snatching her purse and coat. “I get it. Very clearly. I’ll show myself out.”

        “Don’t be so dramatic!”

        She scoffed, glaring at him. “Call me when you get your head out of your ass.”

        The door slammed shut, and Harry sat down onto the sofa to scream into a pillow.

***

        Y/N’s sight was blurry as she drove down the street. A light snow had started to fall over London, so she was twice as careful, knowing Londoners had zero clue how to function when snow hit, and no one had winter tires.

        “Fuck,” she choked out, wiping away at her cheeks.

        She’d had fights with Harry before, it wasn’t like they were perfect. From the outside they looked like nothing could ever be wrong, but they were human. They had flaws and tempers and ideas and beliefs, and sometimes they clashed, but it’d never been as bad as it was that night. 

        She loved Harry, Y/N truly did. She’d even had dreams of the two of them in some far-off cottage in the Italian mountains living a domestic life, but she also just wanted one night to herself. To let loose and think about her own needs and wants, while Harry was away doing the same. It wasn’t selfish, not in her mind. 

        It’d been her who’d uprooted her whole life to be closer to Harry, not the other way around. She was always the one cancelling and making new plans with her family or friends just so she could spend a spare second with Harry. She was there for his sleepless nights and there for his knock-out concerts. Why couldn't he let her have this one thing?

        She was sitting by the wheel at a red light taking in deep breaths to calm herself down. 

        The light turned green, and her hand was slightly shaking as she changed gears.

        Y/N released the clutch and pressed down on the gas.

        Two lights came rushing from the side.

        She gasped.

        A sharp pain went through her side.

        And then it was all black.

***

Anne was going to rip Harry a new one, as she rang him for the fifteenth time, but he still didn't pick up. After the accident and the nurses being unable to contact Harry, they obviously called Y/N’s parents which were next on the emergency contact's list, but given how they lived outside of the UK and the next flight was only in four days, they immediately reached out to Anne, begging for her to go be with their daughter while they got there.

“And please tell Harry to fly over as well!” Y/N’s mum had cried. “I – I know he has work, but please.”

Anne had been shocked to hear Y/M/N ask that, having assumed he was already there, but she wasn’t going to let them get to Harry before she set him straight herself. 

In the beginning, she’d been kind of sceptical, but after spending an evening together where Y/N, her and Gemma all did wine baking, and it had ended up in a disaster in the kitchen with the three of them crying from laughter while Harry stood at the entrance completely baffled and just so done with them, Anne knew Y/N only had good intentions with her son.

        Anne’s love for her only grew from that point on, when she also realised just how much Y/N’s love language was giving. It wasn’t the kind of ‘hey, look, I bought you some fancy thing, now love me’, it was ‘hey, I saw how much you wanted this, I noticed how much it’d mean to you, and I love how happy it makes you. And if it reminds you of me, that’s just a bonus’, and Anne couldn’t help but become as protective of Y/N as her own kids. 

        But at that moment, as finally, after her twenty-seventh attempt, Harry picked up with a gruff ‘ ‘ello?’, Anne was about to burst with rage.

“You get to the hospital right now!” she hissed into the phone.

“What are you talking about?” There was a tremble in his voice. 

The thing was, for two days since Y/N had stormed out, Harry’d been feeling sick. He thought it was due to the stress from the fight and from the pressure his label was putting on him, but now he understood it wasn’t that. It was his instinct telling him something bad had happened, and at Anne’s words, the bad feeling that’d settled in his stomach made his blood run cold. “Mum, what’s wrong?”

“Y/N was in a car accident, and you didn’t bother to pick up your phone.”

“I –” He stammered unable to process her words. “What? Mum? No…”

“You’re her emergency contact,” Anne spoke. “The hospital tried to call you a billion times, and you didn’t pick up.” 

And that’s when he remembered all of those calls from unknown numbers. He thought they’d been some crazed fans who’d gotten his personal number, so he’d just blocked them. “Mum, no.” Harry choked out. “I didn’t mean to – we fought – mum…”

“She’s at St. Helen’s. Please get here.”

He immediately ended the call, and in the span of twenty minutes was at the hospital, which Anne was sure to scold him for because there was no way in hell anyone who didn’t speed would be able to get to St. Helen’s in less than forty minutes. The second she saw her son burst through the door, tear tracks down his face, all the anger and disappointment vanished. 

“Where is she? Is she alive? Y/N!” he yelled across the hallway. “Where is she? Mum! Where’s Y/N?”

“Gem.” She patted her daughter’s knee as both of them stood up from where they’d been sitting at the chairs outside the recovery room assigned to Y/N. “Get a nurse, please.”

Gemma didn’t need an explanation or reasoning seeing Harry’s wild eyes, erratic breathing and shaky hands. 

“Mum!” He practically sprinted after seeing the woman, grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Calm down, Harry,” she shushed him, pulling him in for a hug and feeling his whole body tremble. “Calm down, it’s alright. Gem’ll get you some help, but you need to breathe.”

“I – I’m not the one who needs help!” Harry pretty much screamed. “I need to know if my girlfriend is alive.”

Anne spoke in a calm voice as to not agitate him even more, and her heart broke at the sight of her son so utterly broken. “Harry, you’re about to have a panic attack, and you’re no use to Y/N in that kind of state.”

“So.” He took in a chocked back breath. “So she’s alive?” He didn’t know what he’d do if the answer was anything else but a resounding ‘yes’. There was no version in his brain of where his life could possibly lead but down if he had to go on without Y/N.

“Yes,” Anne nodded, smoothing his hair away from his face, and watching as he took in a deep breath of relief. “She was just wheeled in for her second surgery. Should be out in about four hours. ”

All over again his insides froze. “Second? Mum, tell me the truth – how bad is it?”

“Harry, this is routine,” Gemma put a reassuring hand on his shoulder having returned with a nurse behind her, the man keeping a close eye on Harry and his behaviour. “They did as much as they could the first time, but their priority was on the worst injuries. This one is just to set things properly.”

“Set everything right like – “

“Like bones and stuff…” Gemma shuddered, trailing off. “Y/N broke her hip, dislocated her kneecap, her ankle was shattered and she fractured her collarbone. They took her in so that the bones could be properly placed together and there’s a lesser chance of complications not only while healing but later on in life. But can you please sit down? So they can help you as well?”

“I – alright,” he conceded, taking a place on one of the stiff plastic benches, as the nurse came to him, took his pulse, gave him an inhalator just in case and some herbal tablets to help him relax a bit.

“You said they focused on the worst injuries.” Harry looked at his mother. “What were those?”

Anne sighed, leaning to sit back on the chair next to him and ran a hand through his hair. “A piece of debris punctured one of her kidneys. The bleeding was pretty intense, but they say it was salvageable, so she’ll still have both of them. Gem donated some blood.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, looking over at his sister who wiped a stray tear away from his cheek.

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to thank me for. Y/N is family. If she’d lost the kidney, I’d give her mine in a second.”

“The worst they’re worried about is the head injuries,” Anne said. “Luckily, she got away without anything major, but she definitely has a concussion and minor whiplash to her neck, so they want to keep an eye out for any side effects that could arise. They have another surgery scheduled for her in a week if recovery goes as planned. To take the stitches that won’t dissolve out and put in the ones that will.”

        Harry sagged against his mother’s side, her palms soothingly running up and down his back. “She’s gonna be alright, love,” Anne muttered in his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. “She’s strong. She’ll be okay.”

        It was comforting for both of them – for Anne to have her youngest in her arms, to know he was safe and sound, and for Harry to be held by his mother, the person who always knew how to comfort him when times were rough, and at that moment, they were the roughest they’d ever been.

        “You’ve got some nerve to be here.” Adam’s seething voice pulled Harry away from his mother’s embrace and watched as he rounded the corner with a coffee cup. He was quite sure he was keeping his temper well in check from how hard he was gripping the Styrofoam cup. “Fucking ignore her for two days while she’s laying in the hospital, and appear when it’s convenient for you? Is she some fucking toy for you to use when you want?”

        Anne’s tone was consoling and pleading. “He didn’t know.”

        “The hell he didn’t, he just didn’t want to know! They called you!” Adam pointed at the nurse’s desk. “And you let them go to voicemail. And then, better yet, you fucking blocked the number.”

        “I didn’t know it was the hospital,” he weakly defended himself.

        “Because you didn’t bother to find out.”

        He didn’t have anything to say to that. And not that he really could think of anything when the surgery ward’s doors swung open and they watched as a nurse wheeled Y/N’s gurney back inside the room, while another wheeled her saline bag along with. 

It was a terrifying sight to see. Her face was basically nothing but a swollen piece of flesh, bruises and scratches littering her cheeks, a neck brace to keep her head from moving while one leg was wrapped in a full-on cast, the other in one up until her knee and her left arm was in a sling.

        He’d had nightmares about her before. Most of the times it was about Y/N leaving him because she could no longer do it, could no longer commit to the hectic lifestyle that came with Harry, and as he screamed, banging on the invisible window that separated them, she just walked away, his sobs carried by the wind in the other direction.

        “You should go inside,” Anne whispered motioning with her head to where the nurses checked the monitors and how stable Y/N was. “I know you had a fight, but she’ll want you to be there when she wakes up.”

        “How,” Harry gulped back the lump that’d risen in his throat. “How do you know? How do you know she doesn’t want me to just disappear? I wasn’t there when she needed me, I was – “

        Anne put her hand on his cheek. “Because when she woke up yesterday morning for the first time, you were the first person she asked for. You. She wants you there. And it’s the least you can do for her.”

        He nodded, then took a deep breath and entered Y/N’s room. Watching her lay in the bed, unmoving, without her usual grumpy features as she slept, made Harry sick to the stomach so much so, he thought he’d have to call back the nurse.

        It was some twisted version of Sleeping Beauty, yet he knew a true loves kiss wouldn’t awaken her. Y/N just laid there, small breaths making her chest rise and fall, not even a flutter of her eyelids.

        Harry had spent countless night watching her sleep, looking at how her lashes fluttered as she dreamed of something; how her forehead creased and small, incoherent noises passed her lips as she talked to someone in her mind.

        Now, he was surrounded by none of that, only artificial reminders that she was still alive and fighting to get better.

        With uneven steps, Harry made his way to the chair which’d been stationed next to her bed (he was convinced beyond belief that Gemma, his mum and Adam had all taken shifts to sit there, to be there for Y/N), and much like a king who knew he was unfit for the throne, Harry had to swallow a lump as he took the seat.

        “I – I don’t know if you can hear me…” Harry took hold of Y/N’s palm and let out a sob of relief when he felt it was warm, not cold like he’d feared. “But I’m here for you. I’m not leaving. Not unless you want me to, so until you wake up…” there were so many words, so many apologies he wanted to say, but kept them at bay. Y/N deserved to hear them when she was conscious, so instead, he said, “I’m here, lovie. Get some rest, I’ll be here…”

        With that he put his head on the side of her bed, twisting his face so he could look up at her, watch her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm, and fell asleep to the sound the beeps of Y/N’s beating heart.

        While he slept he dreamt again, the same terrifying dream of Y/N leaving, only this time she did look back at him, but her face was all wrong, her neck bent in a way it shouldn’t be, and eyes covered in a milky white. 

        “You weren’t there, Harry,” she said in a voice void of emotions. “So why should I be there for you?”

        Harry was 100% sure if he’d been hooked up to a heart rate monitor while he slept, people would think he was going into cardiac arrest, but it sure would’ve shown it flatlining as his green eyes swept over his lover’s frame to check his nightmare hadn’t become a reality, only to be met with two Y/E/C sparkling orbs looking back at him, giving him the softest gaze in the universe.

“Hey,” Harry’s tone was quiet, afraid to bring even the littlest of discomfort to Y/N given her state, and he had to physically restrain himself from sweeping down to bring her in a hug. 

What he saw on her face made his heart leap to his throat, as she smiled, genuinely happy to see him, lifting up her right hand, the only limb without a bandage on to cup his cheek. “Hey, love.” Her voice was scratchy like nails on a chalkboard, but to Harry, it was an absolute symphony. “Are you alright? Your eyes are puffy. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

        “Fuck,” Harry choked on his tears looking up at the white ceiling before back at her, complete disbelief in his blood-shot eyes. “You’re the one lying in a hospital bed, with casts and bandages all over you, scheduled for a third surgery, and you’re asking me if I’m alright?”

        If Y/N could, she would’ve shrugged as if that wasn’t the most self-explanatory thing in the world. “I’ll always want to know if you’re alright. ‘S not exclusively you that can care for people, you know.”

        And there she was – his sarcastic, allergic-to-kiwi-but-‘Kiwi’-loving girl that never ceased to amaze him, as she made sure everyone else was alright before herself. And that made Harry break down. 

“I’m so sorry Y/N. So fucking sorry. I – god – I – there are not enough words in any language to say how fucking sorry I am. I should’ve been here, should’ve never let you leave. This is all my fault.”

Through all that, through his choked back sobs and crying, Y/N’s hand had steadily remained on his cheek, wiping away the tears from underneath one eye before switching to the other side and making the little pearls of hurt disappear with just her touch. 

“Harry, are you the weatherman?”

That was not what he thought she would say. “I – what?”

“Do you control temperatures and have not told me?”

“N – no?”

“Were you the guy who ran the red light?”

“No.”

        “Then how is this your fault?”

        “I – “ he stammered. “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I should’ve gone after you, found a way to make you stay or – or should’ve fucking stopped being so selfish and driven you to see Adam yourself.”

        “Harry, had you tried to make me stay nothing would’ve changed.” Y/N sighed letting him lean into her touch, as she bit her lip, thinking over her words. “I was just so pissed, that I think anything you would’ve tried to do, would’ve only made it worse. And I’d rather be here with you than alone in my apartment crying in a tub of Hagen Dazs because of a broken heart.”

        “You-you've got your priorities completely backwards.” He wasn’t laughing when he said that, but Y/N was.

        “Maybe.” She raised her eyebrow. “But I don’t think so. The bones will heal, but the amount of love I have for you… I’m afraid you’ve ruined the thought of a future without you in it. We’ll talk,” Y/N swallowed hard. “We need to talk, but when I get better. Right now, I just wanna hold your hand and have you hold mine as I try not to kick the nurses trying to take my blood for tests.”

        It felt inappropriate for Harry to smile, to feel happy about how Y/N hadn’t told him to go screw himself, even though he felt like he deserved it, but fuck was it impossible not to when his body felt so light, and her love chose to invade the dark corners of his mind to fill it with golden warmth.

        She fell asleep not long after their small conversation, body too tired and in need of recovery, but like he’d promised, he was there for her when she awoke again, this time to a more familiar Y/N as she glared at the coffee cup in his hand, while he sipped, a ring clad palm gently pushing away strands of Y/H/C hair from her face.

        “I hate that you can drink coffee.”

        “Yeah, and why’s that?”

        “Because I can’t.”

        “I’ll happily buy you as many coffees as you like. Once you get better and are allowed to, of course.”

        Y/N snorted and then winced as the action caused pain to shoot through her body. “Knowing you, it won’t be a cup of coffee or a coffee machine, but a fucking coffee chain restaurant.”

        “Would it be that bad to own one?”

        Her eyebrow rose at him in an incredulous look. “You know I can’t bake. Coffee shops include pastries, and I’m not the one who worked in a bakery. I can cook, I can clean, but make me make muffins from scratch, and I’ll set your house on fire.”

        “You already did.” Harry laughed. “Gem and mum helped.”

        “They supplied the wine, so I’m putting 60% of the blame on them.”

        “You do realise that equates to 30% of the blame on each of them, and most of it is still on you?”

        “Shut up,” Y/N smiled, weakly pushing against Harry’s arm, but the motion made him happy to know she was trying. “I was just in a car crash, so forgive me for not being that great at division.”

        A knock at the door made Harry look up, Y/N not even attempting to turn her head to see who’d interrupted them, given how the first time she’d tried it with the neck-brace, it’d hurt so bad she’d passed out.

        Her doctor was a man in his mid to late fifties with greying hair, Y/N’s medical record file slapped underneath his arm.

        “How are we doing today?”

        “Better than yesterday, I guess,” she responded. 

        “Well, you were out for most of it, so I’d say so.”

        Y/N and the doctor chuckled, but Harry didn’t, as he thought of how bad, how absolutely tired a person has to be to sleep for a whole day. He’d had those days himself, and that was from being exhausted from work. He couldn't imagine what being in a bloody accident would feel like. 

        The doctor stepped forward a bit and extended a hand to Harry, introducing himself as Dr Tate, while Harry rose in his seat to accept it, but not wanting to move away an inch from Y/N.

        “You must be the boyfriend.”

        “I – uh – I can only hope I still am,” he let out a nervous giggle, which made his girlfriend slap his arm, a furrow on her face.

        Dr Tate looked Harry over from head to toe, eyebrow raised at that, but all he said was, “We tried to contact you, seeing as you’re Miss Y/L/N emergency contact, but the nurses said it couldn’t go through.”

        “He was filming overseas.” Y/N butted in, clearly having rehearsed what to say beforehand. “Flew over as fast as he could. I’m the luckiest person in the world.” Her tone was soft as a feather, but Harry’s stomach felt like it was filled with rocks. 

        “Is there anything I can help with?” he asked hoping to be given some sort of a task to do, to allow him to redeem himself some way.

        “Well, actually yes. One of the injuries Ms Y/L/N sustained was a concussion,” the doctor said, “which could lead to some complications like headaches, migraines, spotty vision or amnesia.”

“Amnesia?” Harry wanted to vomit. It had crossed his mind, but having a professional say it made it all so much worse. 

        “Yes, and we’d need someone to be with her as much as possible, 24/7 would be desirable, to keep an eye on.”

        Harry honestly hadn’t heard anything past the amnesia part, mind spinning in a circle that just screamed ‘she’ll forget all about you’.

“It’s nothing to worry about too much.” Dr Tate was quick on his feet, seeing Harry’s blank stare, and tried to diffuse any possible spiralling. “With Y/N’s cognitive abilities and having repeatedly excelled at the test without a single stutter, it’s very unlikely she’ll have those side effects. 

“But it’s still a possibility, right?”

The doctor nodded, giving Harry a kind smile. “Which is why I’m informing you of it. To keep an eye out to see if anything changes so you could come in if necessary. But as I said – Y/N’s memory has proven to be intact so far. And I always say to trust the facts.”

“Harry,” Y/N placed her hand on his. “You know I won’t forget you.”

“I’ll uh, give you two a second.” The doctor exited leaving them alone, an almost sad silence over both of them. 

“God I almost lost you to some idiot running a red light with no winter tires, and now you won’t remember me. And – and even with everything you’re going through, you’re still trying to protect me? Why did you lie? I – I wouldn’t have cared if you said the truth that I was an asshole.” Harry dragged both hands over his face, trying to keep the cry’s at bay as Y/N ran her hand through his hair in an attempt to calm him down.

“I’d prefer to think,” Y/N shrugged trying to tease him and make him crack a smile, “me being dead would be the worst-case scenario, not me forgetting you. And of course, I’ll protect you. Your reputation matters to me. Just because we had a fight doesn’t mean I’ll immediately run to everyone I can and say how shitty of a person you were in those specific ten minutes.”

But Harry’s lips didn’t quirk up, the tears didn’t disappear as the painful grimace on his face wasn’t replaced by the crow lines next to his eyes from smiling so much. “What if you – what if you forget you love me? What do I do then? I know I sound selfish and like the biggest fucking dick, but as pathetic as it is – I can’t go on without you. I don’t know how I could.”

Y/N’s heart broke at his words because if the roles were reversed if Harry forgot about her and fell out of love, she didn't know how she'd survive. She’d had those fears before, when he was away filming and she couldn’t follow; she’d been terrified because what they’d had was so new, he could easily move on, find someone better, someone who was familiar with his lifestyle. But any time those thoughts came to her mind, Y/N reminded herself of what she’d do. And that’s what she told Harry.

        “Then you make me fall in love with you again. You’re great at that. Make me love you more with every passing moment.”

        “And – and if you don’t fall in love with me again?”

        Y/N shook her head. “Impossible, Harry. You made me fall in love with you after barely two hours spent together. And well, if you put your mind to it… who knows how much deeper I’ll fall.”

        For the first time in two days, Harry leaned down and pressed his lips against Y/N’s. The kiss was soft and sweet, a barely-there touch, but it meant everything. It was a promise to one another to love unconditionally, to remind the other of it at every passing moment; it sealed their future to be spent together, and neither wanted it any other way.

        Harry’s phone rang, eliciting a whine from Y/N as he pulled away to answer it. “It’s Florence.” He pecked her lips one more time. “I’ll just tell her to call back.”

        He turned to the side for a second muttering a soft ‘hey, can you –‘ before whatever Florence told him made him pull away and extend the deivice towards Y/N.

        “It’s for you.”

        “For – for me? Florence is calling me?”

        Had the two women become friends? Yes. But didn’t mean Y/N had an easier time not fangirling about her. 

        “Hi, Flo,” she breathed out, looking at Harry with wide, happy eyes. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

        Harry sat there watching as his love talked to someone she looked up to, and someone he cared about. He hadn’t told Florence, but her encouragement meant the world to him, as she was partially the reason he’d gotten together with Y/N. After all, she’d been the one on his side from the very beginning.

        Y/N giggled like a crazy person after the call ended and she handed Harry back his phone. “Florence Pugh just called to give me well wishes.” She gasped looking at Harry. “Do you think Chris Pine will too?”

        “God, I love you,” Harry laughed with her, pressing their foreheads together.

        They’d be alright, they’d make sure of it. No matter if a disagreement arose, egos needed to be put in check or black ice covered the roads. They’d get through anything. 

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog​ @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: Listen, Linda, those pictures of Harry on set does things!!!

Also the being allergic to kiwi - that’s me. Like legit it’s the only thing I’m allergic to. I always hated how they tasted like pain, like it made my mouth sting and feel like pins and needles before going numb, and according to professionals, that’s a sign of being allergic. But I love ‘Kiwi’ the song. 

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry :(

[afictionalwhore]

Mr. Tough Guy

A/N: this is for my dear friend @libiraki as a sort of pick-me-up for bad days 💞 it’s my first time actually writing for Dabi and not messing around so I was nervous af writing for the Dabi Queen 🥺

TW: ??? Soft Dabi???

Word count: 2K

•┈┈┈••✦♡✦••┈┈┈••┈┈┈••✦♡✦••┈┈┈•

You rolled on your side to glance at the clock. Glaring electric numbers and letters taunted you back—2:36 A.M. Dabi wasn’t coming home again tonight. You knew you couldn’t get mad at him; it was Shigaraki always sending him out on ridiculous missions. But you were much too afraid of voicing your complaints to the temperamental man-child, so you contended yourself with being mildly annoyed at your pyro boyfriend. You sighed before pulling his pillow across the bed and over you, spooning it and breathing in the lingering scent.

You were almost asleep, when you felt the mattress dip beside you. Warm, rough arms wrapped around your small frame, pulling you into a lean chest. You felt the gentle tug of staples on the thin shirt you were wearing, shaking you awake just enough to be coherent. 

"So you finally decided to come home?" you sleepily grumble, refusing to turn over to look at him.

A husky, smoke-heavy voice hummed from behind you before you felt Dabi nuzzle his face gently against your back, careful not to hook any more of his staples in your clothes. You were annoyed enough at him coming home so late without him accidentally ripping your shirt or staining it with blood from his charred skin. Dabi breathed you in. 

"You're wearing my shirt, doll," he said, grateful that you were turned away so you wouldn't witness the blush dusting his unscarred cheeks. "You must have really missed me." 

"Don't flatter yourself," you replied. Knowing how much he loved seeing you in his clothes but being unsure of when exactly Dabi would home, you had been going to sleep in his loose shirts. The large scoop neck did next to nothing to hold in your boobs, and the hem typically reached your midthigh standing, rolling up to barely come over your ass in your curled position, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the man himself.

“No, Dabi,” you huffed as he began to slowly grind into your ass. “You stink. How long has it been since you had a bath?”

“How long have I been away again?” You could hear the smile in his voice. Dabi never took a bath without you to help him. Bathing Dabi after a long mission quickly became one of your favorite activities. He knew this and was absolutely using it to get back on your good side, though you didn’t mind the fact at all. His latest excursion was almost two weeks, and you wondered how his league mates could stand him for so long.

“Go warm up some water and get some wash rags.” You told him. 

“Yes ma’am!” Dabi pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek before rolling off the bed, the mattress springs giving a low groan with the shifting of his weight. 

As you rose from your comfy position, swinging your legs over the side of your bed  and planting your feet on the cold floor, you remembered the first time you had given Dabi a bath. 

You had, simply put, a rough day at work. You knew that when working retail, most days would be simply not good, but that day really took the cake. Somehow the blame for everything landed on you, despite the problems originating in different departments. Your fuse was blown short when a middle aged woman insisted she knew more than you, screaming that she wanted to speak to your manager and accusing you of "withholding" items from her when you didn’t take her expired coupon for an item that she didn’t have and you didn’t carry. Somehow "ma'am, we don't even have a back to check. I’m sorry," escalated into "you dumb bitch can't get laid and has to take out her pent up frustration on retail workers." Needless to say, your boss did not appreciate the comment, and you were told you had to be "let go", as though he was trying to break up with you gently instead of firing you.

 You would much rather go out and get something to eat on days like this. Chicken nuggets, fries, something greasy and comforting. Unfortunately for you, you and Dabi had recently started a budget, after a scare of not making rent due to spending too much on delivery and takeout. With your newfound unemployment, you decided the wisest decision would be to just go home and take out your frustration on some poor helpless rice cakes. Spicy but simple was perfect for the day you were having.

That’s what led to you hunched over the stove, saibashi in hand, viciously stirring the bright red sauce into the cylindrical gooey rice cakes.

“I need your help,” Dabi had said, appearing in the small entryway between the kitchen and your bedroom. 

You stopped your stirring. Dabi needing help meant one of two things: he needed to hide a body or he wanted a blow job. After the day you had, you were in no mood to play any of Dabi’s games. You turned fast to face the man, almost giving yourself whiplash and pointing your chopsticks at him as though you would stab him if he didn't choose his next words very carefully. Dabi took a step back and raised his forearms up in surrender.

“What do you want?” you practically growled at the man, shaking your chopsticks and dripping red sauce on the floor below.

“Do you think you could help me take a bath?”

Your eyes went wide with shock before realization of his request set in, and your features immediately softened, the muscles holding you tense relaxing, as Dabi gazed at you with a shy, almost sheepish, expression. You gently set the poor saibashi that were about to snap in your grasp down on the counter beside the stove.

“Okay, baby,” you said, smiling at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling, tears threatening to spill over at his sweet request. “Of course! Why don’t you go get some warm water and a soft rag?”

Since then, Dabi would every so often request help with a bath. It was always something that he had to be the first to mention. This was a side of Dabi you cherished. It was like watching the hummingbirds sip from the nectar feeder outside your window. To ask of it yourself felt almost akin to trapping the bird and keeping it under lock. He would never tell you what it was that made him finally decide to look more after his hygiene. You had the slight feeling that it was his insecurities settling in. Everyone in Dabi's life had abandoned or used him, and you had deduced that he feared you would leave him if he didn’t start to take better care of himself. The scent of light cherry blossoms and sweet peaches radiated from you while he smelled of rotting flesh and old cigarettes.

You made your way to your bathroom, a typical affair for a tiny Tokyo apartment, but it was just enough for you and Dabi. You pushed the sliding glass shower door open and stepped in, knocking over a few almost empty bottles, still clad in just Dabi's white t-shirt. 

He sat on a small stool placed in the center of the shower, glancing up at you as you slid the door open. The seat was just a little too small for him, forcing his knees to bend awkwardly up to his chest as he slouched back over. You drank in the sight of him. From the scars that decorated his chin and the top of his chest, forearms, and legs to the gleam of the staples that just barely held him together. You loved everything about him, despite the patchwork of purple scars that littered his body. You had a feeling deep down that despite his rough exterior, Dabi was insecure about his body. When you had met, he smelled of rotting flesh and cigarettes, and while he still retained the smoke smell, you figured that he began to grow self conscious over how you may have perceived him. 

You started with his face, dipping the soft rag into the bucket of warm, soapy water Dabi had made before pressing it gently over his closed eyes. You made your way around Dabi's face, lightly patting the warm, damp rag against his skin.

Dabi made a small hum in the back of his throat as you made your way to washing his neck, the same gentle patting motion you had used to wash his face. 

"That feels really nice, doll," he sighed.

You moved on to his arms, starting with his right shoulder and gently nudging him to rotate his arm. With as many times as you have done this now, it didn’t take much for Dabi to pick up on your wordless request. You worked your way down his arm and back up, wringing the rag out to run down the drain before dipping it into the clean, mildly soapy water to start washing his left side. 

As you repeated your gentle motions on his left arm, you noticed Dabi staring off. He looked deep in thought, enough to worry you as Dabi usually had a sharp tongue during his baths, hoping to stir you up and enjoying watching your face flush with embarrassment at his crude words on what he planned to do to you to repay you.

“You tired?” you asked, a small smile crossing your face.

“Mmmm” Dabi nodded. “Yea, I guess.” You decided not to push it and rang out the rag again so you could move on to his chest.

As you pat the damp rag onto his collarbone, careful not to let the charred skin get any more damp than what was necessary to keep him feeling fresh and clean, you heard Dabi mumbling.

“What was that?” You looked up at him, eyes wide in fear that you had hurt him. Dabi was still staring off to the side.

“I’m sorry,” Dabi murmured, barely audible despite your closeness. “For being away from you for so long.” He still refused to look at you.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Was Dabi really apologizing? And for something that deep down you both knew wasn’t truly his fault. The Dabi you knew would never, even if bathing Dabi did tend to bring out a softer side of him. You were dreaming. You had to be. You had fallen asleep, waiting for Dabi to come home, and ended up dreaming of bathing your lover. 

“I mean it,” Dabi whispered, looking down at you with bright blue round eyes more befitting of a small husky puppy than a wanted arsonist. "I'm sorry. You put up with so much from me. You could have left at any time while I was away, but you didn't. You just kept waiting and trusting I'd come back." Dabi took in a deep breath. "I think I love you."

Despite his frightening exterior, Dabi was truly quite soft; he just often had trouble expressing that softness. Bathing Dabi brought out a side of him that only you saw, a sweet, lonely man who so desperately wanted to open up to someone but was afraid of being abandoned or worse, betrayed. This was who Dabi really was underneath his tough guy shield. This was the Dabi that you loved. Something must have happened while he was gone to make him really open up to you like this, but you didn’t want to pry; Dabi would share in his own time. Just hearing those three little words was enough for you.

You tried your best to stifle your tears, ducking your head down and dropping the rag in a pitiful attempt to hide your tears. 

“Aw damn,” nothing got past him. “I went and fucked up again didn’t I?”

“No,” you started, sniffling lightly. “No, Dabi. I’m just really happy you’re home. I love you, too.” 

“Hurry up, would ya!” Dabi tried to bark, an attempt to gain back his tough guy act. “You've still got my whole bottom half to do, and I’m getting cold over here!” 

You couldn't help but giggle at him, pressing a sweet peck to the scarred part of his cheek and fully enjoying the blush that crept up the rest of his face.

[stardustdiaries]

Make You Feel My Love

Pairing: Captain Rex x Jedi!Reader

Summary: After you are injured in battle, you and Rex get lost in your emotions.

Warnings: Injuries, blood (little to no descriptions, though!) FLUFF! ANGST? YEAH.

Word Count: 1,916

•••

Never had Rex felt this sort of fear.

You are okay. You are safe. You are healing. He knows this, Kix has been reassuring him time and time again that you would be back on your feet in no time. It still didn’t ease his worries.

It’s been three days since his world almost collapsed. Three days since he felt his heart drop as yours threatened to stop. Three days since he saw your fingers weakly clutch your stomach as blood painted your robes. Rex has seen his brothers die in the heat of battle, their screams of agony have fallen on his ears before and he’s been there to hold many of them as they took their last breath.

But this was different.

Rex loves you. It’s a truth he’s tried to crush under the weight of his boot, but the fact remains the same. It’s been a hard pill to swallow. Both of your codes are restrictive in more ways than one and, truth be told, they were the only thing stopping him from blurting out his feelings for you. His love for you burned in his veins and being there for you— protecting you was the only way for him to give you his love.

Until he couldn’t.

One second you were by his side, thinning out the battalion of battle droids and clearing a way for the 501st and the next, an explosion was set off. And you were within range of the blast.

“General!” Rex called out as he watched your body hit the ground limply. His ears were ringing, the world whizzing by as he barked out orders that his own ears failed to register. He must’ve said something right, though, as his brothers managed to weaken the squadron of Separatist droids. His legs acted on their own, stumbling backwards and in your direction. Upon reaching you, he dropped to his knees.

You were curled into yourself, your face contorted in pain as tears sprang out of your eyes.

“General,” Rex breathed, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized was lodged in his chest when you reacted to his voice. “General, can you walk?” he said firmly, yet you didn’t miss the tinge on concern that laced his words.

“Shrapnel—” you gasped, wincing at the intake of air. White pain rendering you paralyzed, unable to move without choking back a sob. “Took…took some shrapnel t-to my—” you bit back a cry as you tried to uncurl yourself just enough to let the Captain see the wound.

Gently, his hands settled on your shoulders to stop you from moving. “Can’t have you moving too much until someone can determine the extent of the wound—”, a string of curses tumbled out of the Captain’s mouth as his eyes met the pool of crimson that settled around your tense figure. “Kix, the General is down— I need you down here now!” he barked into his comlink, his words sharpened with fear at what would happen if his brother didn’t arrive in time.

Feverishly, he shook the thoughts away. You would be fine. You had to be.

A pained gasp knocked Rex right out of his thoughts, his eyes snapping back down to your trembling figure.

“Stay with me, General,” Rex pleaded, losing the air from his lungs as one of your trembling hands reached out for him. “General…”

You gave his hand a weak squeeze, the lack of your usual strength painfully pulling at his heartstrings. The corners of your lips curled into the smallest of smiles, though he didn’t miss the pain that swam in your eyes.

“It…it takes a lot more…to take me d-down, Rex.” You wheezed, tear tracks fresh on the skin of your cheeks mixing with grime and blood. “D-don't go soft…on me now.”

“Kix, where are you?!” he yelled into his comlink once again, his voice giving out brokenly.

Rex swore his heart stopped when your hand went limp in his.

 “Stay with me?”

Rex freezes in his tracks and turns to you with wide eyes. His heart is racing in his chest and he swallows hard at the lump in his throat. Your eyes are heavy with exhaustion, but he doesn’t miss the silent plead behind them. Your Jedi robes are gone and replaced with sleepwear loose enough to not irritate the stitches that trail over the expanse of your abdomen. The circles under your eyes are sunken, indicating that you haven’t been resting as well as he had hoped.

Rex nods firmly, feeling his heart swell at the sudden light in your eyes. He gently places his helmet by the foot of your bed before he removes the pieces of his armor until he’s in his blacks. Placing a gentle hand on your back and another under your knees, he helps you scoot to the side and find a comfortable spot on the bed. He slides in next to you and you instinctively smile as the bed dips under his weight.

Gently, he pulls your head to his chest and your body relaxes to the rhythm of his steady heartbeat. You snuggle up against him, though he feels you tense up a second before relaxing once again. “Are you comfortable enough? Do you need me to—” He clamps his mouth shut when you press a kiss onto his chest, right above his heart. His hand slowly caresses the top of your head and his lungs expel a deep sigh. “How are you feelin'?” his voice is soft and genuine, though you catch onto the tinge of concern that goes around his words.

A few beats pass before you settle on an answer. “Better,” you sigh. Your fingers slowly trace random patterns and shapes of over his chest, making his stomach fill with butterflies as he revels in the warmth of your touch. “I definitely miss being around the boys, but Fives, Kix and Echo have stopped by a few times.” You smile and when you look up, you see the corners of Rex’s lips curl up as well.

“Yeah, the boys miss ya a whole lot,” Rex chuckles, the sound rumbling beautifully through his chest. “They’ve been beggin' the Force to have you back— apparently training sessions aren’t as fun when you’re not there to make them look like a bunch of Shinnies.” You laugh wholeheartedly at his words, and he greedily lets the sound wash over him and his worries. He relishes being here with you. Feeling your breathing match his own as your heartbeats fell in sync with each other.

“How about you?” Rex’s brows pull together at your words and he looks down at you questioningly. “Me? What…what about me?”

You shift your position until you can look at him in the eyes, a small hiss slipping out of your mouth at the tug of your stitches as you move. Knowing his next moves, you hold out a hand to stop him from fuzzing about your injury. “How are you, Rex?”  There’s a weight behind your words. Love. Care.  Concern.  His lips are pressed together in a thin line as he ponders over an answer. A breath of hesitation rushes past his lips. That’s all you needed to know.

“You’ve been uneasy,” you speak up, your eyes filled with sympathy. “I can sense it weighing you down. Talk to me, Rex."

The blood in his veins runs cold for a moment. His body tenses next to you and you have to cup his face to make his eyes meet your own. You don’t push him to speak, and he silently thanks you with a kiss on the back of your hand. Lowering your head onto his chest, you once again lose yourself to the drumming of his heart. Then he feels it. All the love, the warmth of your heart drowning out his worries, his fears— fears that keep him up at night. And for a moment, he lets himself fall. He falls into these waves of love that drift from your heart to his, letting them cleanse him of every worry that stained him. It overwhelmed him, but he didn’t want it to stop; there was no sensation as beautiful as that of your heart covering him.

“I was afraid,” he gasps softly, his words low and laced with affection. You turn to meet his eyes, your own widening as you notice the tears that race down his face. With the pads of your thumbs, you wipe his tears away and give him an encouraging nod, to which he reacts with a soft curl of his lips. “When I saw you…when you were there, barely hanging on I— I’ve never felt so afraid.” His voice broke and his arms tightened around you slightly, still mindful of your wound. “I couldn’t imagine— I didn’t want to imagine a… a life where…” he curses under his breath before locking his gaze with your own, golden eyes searching yours as he released a trembling breath. “I don’t want a life where you’re not by my side.”

Your forehead was pressed against his and he once again felt your heart open up to him, chasing away the fears of what could’ve been. “You…you died for a second,” he chokes, his body trembling slightly under yours. “I lost you for a moment and— I keep seeing it happen, I—”

You didn’t notice tears were running down your face until you felt his warm hands cup your cheeks to gently wipe them away. You crash into him, stitches be damned, and you wrap your arms around him as he returns the gesture. The rhythm of your hearts keep the pace as the mixture of your quiet sobs fills the air. There was nothing to say. Everything that needed saying  was felt thrumming from his heart to yours. The fear. The grief. The longing. The love. It all crashed over you as silent cries wracked his body and you hiccupped between sobs. Rex breathes shakily as you bury your face on the crook of his neck. His hands soothingly run over the expanse of your back, trying to relieve the tension from your muscles.

“I…I was scared, too,” you mumble against his neck, your breath hot on his skin, eliciting a sigh from his lips. “I couldn’t feel you, Rex.” A sob erupts from the depths of your chest, the broken sound tearing Rex’s heart apart. He pulls back from the embrace, golden eyes locking with your own glimmering ones.

“We’re okay,” he breathes, almost as if trying to reassure himself that you were actually with him— that you are safe and in his arms. “We’re…we’re okay.” Rex repeats, his voice low, barely above a whisper, but firm in its waking.

Rex knows very little about the Force— you had explained it as best as you could to him every time he had a question, but it never stuck with him for long. What he did remember, though, is that just like you can make him experience your emotions through the Force, he could make you feel his own through the same connection.

His eyes search yours one last time before gently pressing a lingering kiss onto your forehead. Pressing his forehead against yours, he once again lets his heart breathe life into what words fail to say. Fear is replaced by security. Grief is drowned out by hope. Longing is outshined by faith.

 And love is all that remains.

[vvitchering]

32. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” for bobadin?

This is my first time writing for this ship and my second time writing Boba so I am FEAR (TM) but I think I actually like the way this came out?????

~ It’s been a month and a half since the beroya had come to stay at the palace. Six since the loss of his child and his creed. Boba doesn’t like to think about what Din had been doing to himself in the time between handing his son over to the jetii and when Boba had finally managed to track him down halfway across the galaxy. He hadn’t known Din long at that point, but anyone could have seen the defeat and hopelessness in his posture and demeanor. 

If Boba had taken any longer to find him, he isn’t sure there would have been much left to find.

Given purpose once again as a hunter and personal guard for the usurper king of Tattooine, Din is flourishing. Now, Boba counts on him almost as much as he does on Shand. She may be his right hand, but Din is as close to clan, aliit, as either of them are going to get and that means something to Boba. They’re both orphans, survivors from a scattered culture; and in every word of mando’a they speak to each other, every nostalgic smile, every instance of innate understanding, they grow a little closer. 

Things have been going well, possibly too well, suspiciously well. So while it isn’t a complete shock when Din begins to pull away again, it still hurts. They haven’t shared a meal in days. The mats laid out for combat practice have gone unused. Din hovers at the edge of Boba’s vision when he absolutely must make an appearance and he all but evaporates like a desert breeze the second he’s no longer needed. 

Din begins to stay out on hunts for longer stretches of time. He reports the relevant details on his return and disappears again until he’s summoned. His absence burns like acid but Boba tries to give him his space. He doesn’t know what he’s done to offend the man, but it’s clear there’s been a shift in their relationship and if he doesn’t want to lose the wayward beroya yet again, he’s going to have to do something soon.

He gets his chance one afternoon after he’s yelled at his court to disperse and he’s made his way to the chambers they use for exercise and weapon storage. Din is already there, moving through his forms, beskar spear in hand. His movements grow stiff and unnatural the moment he realizes he has company and Boba feels the last of his restraint snap.

“Do you have some issue with me all of a sudden?” he asks. Din flinches like he’s been struck. 

“Have I offended you in some way? Made you feel uncomfortable or unwelcome?”

Din fidgets with the spear and shifts his weight from foot to foot as if he’s debating making a break for it. Boba frowns. He’s never pressured Din to go helmetless, he knows he finds a certain kind of comfort and familiarity in keeping that part of himself intact, but he finds himself wishing for the umpteenth time that Din trusted him enough to remove it in his company. 

Right now, it feels like just another impenetrable barrier between them.

“No, it’s not that.” Din finally responds, tilting his head as he speaks in that curious way of his.

Boba moves closer, motioning for Din to continue. They’re having this discussion, no matter how much Din looks like he’d rather take off running. Whatever he’s hiding, it’s hurting them both and Boba can’t, won’t, stand for it any longer. He’s come to value Din’s companionship in a way he’s quickly realizing is frighteningly irreplaceable. The thought of losing it permanently sends cold shivers up and down his spine in a way nothing else ever has. 

Boba sets his jaw. Despite the avoidance techniques Din has been favoring lately, he is still Mandalorian, as is Boba. They will clean the air as their kind have done for centuries. 

Boba lunges. 

The attack catches Din completely off guard and they fall to the mat covered floor with a muffled clatter. Din loses his grip on the spear and it rolls away out of his reach. He struggles under Boba’s weight in a weak attempt to avoid being pinned down, but Boba has him just where he wants him. He leans almost his full weight onto Din’s chest, keeping him down, and presses his forearm into Din’s throat. He takes care not to press too hard; he wants to subdue and restrain, not hurt. 

Din inhales raggedly but goes obligingly limp, unwilling to fight back. It’s like the fire that they’ve both worked so hard to kindle has left him again. Cold fear zings through Boba, mingling with the adrenaline from their short lived tussle and he feels sick to his stomach as he realizes this might be the last time he’s allowed this close to Din. 

“Tell me. Please.” He begs. And it is begging. How far the mighty Boba Fett has fallen, pleading with a no-name beroya from some backwater covert for forgiveness for some unknown slight. He’d fall even further if it meant he could keep Din by his side just a little longer. 

He can’t see Din’s eyes behind the dark of his visor, but he can feel the strength of his gaze. He can feel him tense again beneath him as he registers Boba’s pathetic pleading. There’s a moment of complete stillness before the world tilts and Boba gasps for breath as Din manages to swap their positions and slams him into the ground. It’s not gentle. There’s force in his movements, real intent, and Boba would sigh in relief if he hadn’t just had the air mercilessly knocked from his lungs.

“I have lost everything in my life that mattered to me,” Din begins, and his normally calm voice is edged in steel. “My home. My family, twice over. Everything I had left fit inside a storage locker in my ship and that’s gone, too.” 

“You’re not the only one who’s lost things, Din.” Boba reminds him gently.

Din laughs miserably. He’s shaking slightly, Boba can feel the tremors where Din is pressed against him. 

“Sometimes I think I’m cursed.” Din says quietly. “I never get to keep anything important. My creed, my ship, the kid, everything I loved...” He trails off, viciously biting off what sounds like the beginning of a sob.

Din’s hold on Boba loosens significantly as he falls apart and Boba takes the opportunity to grasp at Din’s wrists, gripping them lightly but securely. He’s not great with words and even less so with comfort, but he can do this at least. He can anchor Din, help him weather the storm he’s fighting through, and see him safely back to shore.

“I pulled away because I thought if I ended this myself before it turned into anything it might hurt less than waiting for something to come along and end it for me. Cut something out of my life on my own terms for once, you know? Couldn’t do it, though.”

“Din--”

“Ne’johaa, I’m not finished.”

Boba swallows his interruption and stares up at Din pointedly. 

Go on. Get to the point of all this. 

Din takes a measured breath and then lets it go. 

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified. I don’t want you to be another thing I lose. I won’t survive it. Not again.”

“Oh. Is that all?”

“Is that all...Boba--”

“Now it’s your turn to shut up. C’mere.”

Boba shifts his grip to hold Din by the forearm with one hand while the other slides up over Din’s shoulder to pull him down by neck. Their helmets clink together at their foreheads and the sound echoes through the chamber. Din makes a short shocked sound and throws his free hand down beside Boba’s head to support himself but makes no attempt to pull away. 

“I’ve lived through far more than my fair share of hardship in this life. You don’t get to look like I do without having survived some absolute shit situations.”

They’re separated by the metal of their helmets, but Boba would swear he can feel Din’s warmth seeping through.

“If this is something you want to pursue,” he continues, “I’m amenable to that. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere any time soon, verd’ika.”  

Din makes a strange wheezing noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh and sniffs loudly before collapsing slowly on top of Boba in an exhausted but relieved heap. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying you sprawled out on top of me like this, but do you think we could relocate to a more comfortable surface? A training mat isn’t exactly an ideal place for a cuddle.” 

“Trying to get me into bed already? You’re shameless.” Din laughs, clear and true, and it’s the sweetest sound Boba has heard in a long time.

--

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, do a writer a favor and reblog! Likes are nice, but they don’t get this story out there for more people to see. I’m also toying with the idea of putting this one up on my ao3. Thoughts?

mando’a words beroya - hunter Ne’johaa - shut up verd’ika - literally “little soldier”, used here as an affectionately insulting term of endearment as its usually used for little kids

(I really like Mando’a as a language, I think its fascinating, and writing a ship that consists of two Mandalorians gives me the perfect excuse to WAY over use it because I barely ever get to. I apologize for NOTHING. I wasn’t expecting this to be so long. I’m fully planning on coming back to this when I have fresh eyes and revising and editing some parts where the pacing feels a little off!)

[taeminyourmind]

REVLON #015 x Taemin (A)

Genre: Angst

Synopsis: Afraid Taemin has been cheating on you, you finally muster the strength to question his loyalty and find yourself heartbroken by the complicated truth.

Word Count: 1.8k+

Pairing: Taemin x Reader

Autumn came in like a lion, its cold claws tearing into the city while its roar brings a ferocious wind. The gray clouds overhead roll like giant waves about to take over the city, blanketing every surface with a gray hue. Only the red, orange and yellow hues of the dying leaves provide color and life to the dull city.

Large raindrops begin to fall, splashing against the window into smaller drops. You barely crack a smile at the thought of nature crying along with you as you use the corner of a napkin to quickly wipe your tears.

“Why don’t you talk to Taemin about it?” Jongah asks before taking a bite from her blueberry muffin and wiping away the fallen crumbs from her shirt.

You scoff softly and roll your eyes. “And say what? Are you cheating on me?”

“Yes!”

“It’s not that easy,” you sigh, pushing your half-eaten omelet away. “I’m in love with him and I…” your voice trails off when tears sting your eyes.

Jongah reaches across the table and gently squeezes your hand, her eyebrows knitting together in concern over your falling tears. “Talk to him,” she gently whispers, encouragement lacing her tone. “I know you’re scared of heartbreak, but you’re allowed to know the truth.”

Each step you take towards your and Taemin’s shared apartment makes your stomach drop. Your fingertips nervously feel the grooves of your keys while your mind races through loops so fast that you’re not aware of the sounds of babies crying and arguments around you.

‘I can’t stand out here forever,’ you think before closing your eyes and jamming the key into the lock before slowly opening the door.

The living room is dimly lit with the TV providing the brightest light. You throw your jacket across the couch and look around for any signs of Taemin.

“Taemin?” You call out as you look in the kitchen and hall bathroom. You stop at your bedroom door, your hand resting on the knob. The thought of opening the door and potentially finding Taemin giving his love to someone else.

The thought causes you to shiver as you remember the day your world turned upside down. It all began the night Taemin came home from visiting his family.

A marathon of rom-coms has you glued to the TV while an array of snacks are spread before you. You could barely concentrate on the movie as you eagerly awaited the return of your loving Taemin, who's been away for a week visiting family overseas. You wanted to join him, but the increased demand of your job barely left you time for yourself or Taemin. You often felt guilty when you would come home and find Taemin asleep on the couch from trying to stay up late so he could welcome you home. But tonight, you managed to get the night off so you could be home to welcome him back with open eyes. You fixed his favorite meal and dessert for a night of relaxation.

The sound of the front door unlocking pulled your attention away from the screen. A wide smile spread across your face when a smiling Taemin stood in the doorway with the door closing behind him. He immediately dropped his bags and ran to you. His arms engulfed you in a warm embrace, lifting you off the ground while your lips kissed all over his face in between the whispers of ‘I missed you.’

He gently set you on the couch before he quickly pressed his lips against yours, moving them feverishly. No words needed to be said to acknowledge or understand the need for each other’s touch and warmth as you made love to each other on the couch. His sweet whispers of admiration, tender kisses, and touches sent you into euphoria, never wanting it to end.

The next morning began with a shared shower before Taemin offered to make breakfast. You decided to put away some of Taemin’s clothes from his bags when a gold tube of lipstick caught your eye. A smile appeared on your face when the tube glistened in the sun’s rays.

‘He shouldn’t have,’ you thought before taking the top off. Your smile soon faded when you noticed the lipstick has been used several times. Then, a faint smell of warm vanilla caught your attention, a scent you never wore.

The sound of your name being called stopped your train of thought. “Coming!” You tried your best to hide the shakiness in your voice.

You hurriedly placed the lipstick back in the bag and forced a smile before walking out of the room. Where his smile and laughter would’ve made your heart flutter, you couldn’t fight the hurt and confusion that haunted the back of your mind.

The memory feels like a punch in the gut as you try to even your breathing. Suddenly, that familiar vanilla scent taunts you before a voice has the chance to speak.

“___! How was brunch?” Taemin cheerily asks with a laundry basket under his arm. His face falls when you turn to him with teary eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

When he takes a step towards you, the scent becomes poignant causing the tears to fall down your cheeks. When you flinch at his touch, his gaze saddens in confusion.

“Who is she?” You ask shakily after a moment of silence. Your throat burns from holding back your emotions and your cheeks grow warm from Taemin's question of ‘Who?’ “I found used lipstick that I never use, a vanilla perfume that I never wear,” you pause for a moment, swallowing before finally meeting his eyes. “Are you cheating on me?”

The question causes Taemin to blink at a loss for words. He stands in silence, his eyes blank with emotion. “I’m not,” he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m having a hard time believing that,” you say flatly.

“It’s not easy to explain,” he says before grabbing your hand and leading you to the couch.

You sit on the opposite side of the couch, unable to look in his direction. The silence begins to feel suffocating until Taemin sighs and shifts in his seat.

“The lipstick you found,” he begins, “is mine.” You scoff and roll your eyes to his displeasure. “I’m telling the truth, ___.”

You remain silent for a moment, searching for the words that seemed to have quickly vanished. “And why would you own lipstick?” You slowly ask.

Taemin inhales deeply, rubbing his hands together. “It’s the only way I can still feel her lips on mine.”

‘Her?’ You think. So many questions swarm your mind before Taemin speaks again.

“Revlon #015. I can still see her put it on, her eyebrows knitting together as she glides the tube across her lips and I can still feel the beating of my heart when she catches me watching her and rushes over to kiss me, leaving some on my lips.” He pauses for a moment, smiling at the memory. “She would leave kiss marks on her love letters and spray it with her favorite vanilla scent from Bath & Body Works.”

The anger that rose inside of you quickly turns to sadness - for Taemin because he’s still in love and has been grieving the loss of his ex-girlfriend, and for you, because you’ve come to realize that his heart didn’t belong just to you.

“There are things I don’t want to forget about her, things I just can’t forget,” he softly says, his true feelings finally now allowed to come out. “And I can’t allow myself to lead you on anymore. I’m still in love with her and I love you,” he trails before clearing his throat. “I can’t, I can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t allow myself to do that to you.”

You swallow your sobs that want to erupt from your core. A sad smile disappears as quickly as it came as you muster the strength to finally look at the young man you love. His bangs hide his tear-filled eyes as he quickly wipes his tears away. You begin to wonder if you somehow forced him to begin your relationship before he was truly ready.

“I’m sorry,” you say weakly, your eyes falling to the floor.

Taemin looks towards you and reaches out to squeeze your hand. “I can never forget you or your love, ___. That’s nothing to be sorry about.”

You take a shaky breath before squeezing his hand back. ‘So this is heartbreak,” you think as you sit in silence, hands still intertwined. ‘They were right, it always gets you.’

A year has gone by since you’ve last seen or talked to Taemin. Every now and then you got the urge to contact him just so you could hear his voice, but that would’ve made the wound hurt more. Jongah was more than welcoming when she opened her apartment to you, even helping you move your things from your old apartment. For months, you lay awake thinking of Taemin and the memories you shared and the last hug you shared before you walked away, never to return.

It wasn’t until Jongah introduced you to her friend, Taehyun, that you thought about dating. When you met Taehyun, thoughts of Taemin no longer overshadowed your thoughts. Taehyun was like Taemin in his gentle ways, but you could see the unwavering look of admiration in his eyes when you were together and feel the excitement of being in your presence. With him, you felt your heart begin to be slowly repaired as he took everything slowly and did his best to comfort you and gain your trust.

The crisp autumn air causes you to shiver as you walk with Taehyun to your favorite lunch spot.

“Cold?” He asks. Wrapping his arm around you before you have the chance to answer.

The warmth radiating from his body pulls you closer. The changing leaves catch your eye as you watch one gracefully fall to the ground. A gentle bump against your shoulder makes you glance up.

“I’m so sorry,” you turn and begin to say. Your eyes widen when you see a familiar face. “Taemin?”

Taemin lifts his head enough for you to see his eyes from under his hood. A warm smile spreads across his face. “___,” he says before looking towards Taehyun.

“This is Taehyun,” you smile. The two young men shake hands bringing warmth to your heart. When Taemin inquisitively raises his eyebrows, you eagerly nod.

“You make sure you treat her right,” Taemin says, his tone stern. “She deserves the best.”

Taemin’s gaze brings a smile to your face. “It was nice seeing you.”

Taemin smiles, “Yeah, you too.”

Not knowing the right words to say, you bid him a farewell nod before grabbing Taehyun’s hand and continuing down the sidewalk. You refuse to look back as you cross the crosswalk.

‘My future is beside me,’ you think with a smile as you rest your rest on Taehyun’s shoulder and allow your fingers to intertwine with his.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Walk Me Home

Chapter 3 of In Breakable Heaven! I don’t love this chapter, but it felt necessary. idk. Everything picks up in the next one!

Summary: It’s pretty much all in the title! 

Warnings: confronting a cheating ex

Word Count: ~2200

“You really didn’t need to walk me home. I didn’t mean to make you leave earlier than you wanted.” You said as you walked next to Spencer.

“Trust me. I’m normally home by now anyway.” He replied easily. You shifted closer as you thought about the buildings surrounding your apartment complex.

 “Where do you live?” You blurted out, unable to think of anything else to say.

 “Oh, I live in Langham Apartments.” He replied. You thought about the name, recognizing it as you had toured there when you first moved to DC.

 “Isn’t that North of Penelope’s though?” You said, double checking you were walking south toward your own apartment.

 He sighed. “Yes… I know what you’re thinking. Your place is definitely not on the way to mine, but I didn’t want you to walk by yourself and I didn’t think you would let me walk with you unless you thought it was convenient for me. More than 70% of violent crimes happen at night, and midnight to 1:00 AM is the busiest hour for many of those crimes.” You stopped walking, turning him to look at you by grabbing his hands. “Thank you.” You said it with as much sincerity as possible, wanting him to know how much you really appreciate the action.

 You dropped one hand so he could turn back around, but held the other as you walked down the street in a comfortable silence. You were still drunk enough to not think anything of the innocent act. A cat ran out in front of you, scaring you in your still tipsy state. You jumped into Spencer, with your hands grabbing his arm, and you pulled yourself closer to him. He laughed as he saw the source of your sudden fear. Shuffling past the feline, you didn’t make any effort to distance yourself from him. If anything, you leaned on him more as you grew tired throughout the walk.

 You didn’t want to say goodbye as you arrived home. Spencer, being the incredibly intelligent and observant person he is, felt you tense beside him as you turned the corner and your building came into view. “Are you okay?” He asked as your grip on his arm tightened.

 “Yeah, I just… it was a lot easier to think I would be able to get rid of all his stuff before actually having to look at it.” You replied.

 You saw something flash across Spencer’s face before he stuttered “I, uh, I guess, I could, um, go up with you, uh, if you think it’ll help.” You turned to him, a small grin slowly spreading across your face.

 “That would be amazing. I just don’t think I can be alone right now.” You were entering the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor before returning to cling to his arm.

 Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you as the elevator doors opened. You held tighter to Spencer’s arm as you realized it was Drew standing in front of your apartment door. He looked almost sad, but quickly shifted to anger as he glanced down at your hands around Spencer’s arm. “Drew, I don’t want you here. I want to move on from my life and pretend like you were never in it.” You could feel the tears pooling in your eyes, threatening to escape as you confronted Drew.

 “I came to apologize, but obviously you already found someone to move on with. You were probably already sleeping with him.” Drew’s words felt like a whip hitting you in the face.

 “How. Dare. You.” You spit back at him, the tears giving away to pure hatred. “You are not even the least bit sorry. God. You don’t get to yell at me for having a friend- that’s right A FRIEND, help me through the complete bullshit you’ve put me through. You are the one who cheated on me. On our fucking anniversary. You don’t get to spin this around and act like I’m a bad person for trying to forget you. Get the hell out of my apartment building or so help me god I will…” You trailed off, not knowing what you could possibly say that would intimidate him.

 “You’ll what? You can’t do anything to me Y/N.” Drew’s eyes were cold and careless as he laughed at your rage.

 “She actually can. She can file a restraining order.” Spencer started. “You see, I work for the FBI in a unit that specializes in catching the world’s worst criminals. We’ve handled our fair share of stalking cases. I will not hesitate to see you prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law if you so much as think about contacting her again.” Spencer’s eyes were hard. He was staring down at Drew as if he were invincible. You clung to him as Drew muttered “Yeah, whatever. Like I’d waste my time on her anyway” before leaving.

 You forced a smile on your face as you walked into your apartment and looked at Spencer. You wanted to be happy that he’s gone, completely out of your life, but you just felt empty. You have experienced way too many emotions for one night and you know exactly what you need right now. Rushing over to your speaker, you turn it on and pull up your Taylor Swift playlist for when you are feeling everything all at once. What can you say, the woman really knows how to write emotions. As you hear the soft music of this is me trying begin to play, you sink into the couch and start crying.

 Spencer shuffles over from where you left him by the door. As he sits next to you, unsure of what to do next. He’s not really sure why you put on this song. It sounds like it will only play into your upset state. You know you just need to flush yourself of the emotions before ridding your life of him entirely. Instead of asking about the music, he surprises both of you by pulling you into his lap and rubbing circles on your back. The small gesture is so kind that you start crying even harder, remembering how nice you thought Drew was. You aren’t sure how long you cry for before you eventually fall asleep.

 -- 

Reid’s POV

Spencer wasn’t sure why he was so set on walking you home, but upon seeing your reaction to Drew standing outside your door, he’s very glad he did. He’s never really been an intimidating person, but there was some instinctual feeling in him to protect you. Not that he thinks you need protection. He just knows you are in an emotionally fragile state and the man who put you there just accused you of the exact thing he had done hours before. It was pretty messed up. Maybe that is why he threw all his rules out the window for you.

 He really doesn’t understand the choice of music. Although, it does cover a range of emotions. The only thing he is completely sure about is that he never wants to see you this sad ever again. Maybe that is why he pulls you into his lap. You clearly need comfort right now, and it would be worse if he just awkwardly left. His barrier to touch has never been broken down so easily. It takes a lot of getting to know someone before Spencer would ever even consider shaking their hand.

 The songs shift from gut-wrenchingly sad to sweetly reminiscent to seductive before he’s sure you’ve fallen asleep. Every time he tries to stop rubbing your back, the softest whimper leaves your lips. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he drifts off, dreaming about meeting you under happier circumstances.

 --

 Y/N POV

In typical fashion after a night of drinking, you wake up around 6:30 wide awake. As your eyes adjust to the dim light, you notice you are still on the couch, but now laying down, with Spencer’s arms still wrapped around you. He looks so adorable sleeping. You slowly untangle yourself from him, so as not to wake him up, before walking into the kitchen for some water. It’s always good to hydrate, even if you don’t ever feel the hangover.

 You began thinking about what you could do to thank Spencer for everything he did last night. Not to mention you forced him to sleep on the couch. You settled on breakfast, but you knew if you started cooking you would wake him up. After finally deciding on a plan, you quickly get dressed. You grabbed your keys and left a post it on the door saying you would be right back, just in case he woke up before you returned.

 You quickly ran across the street to your favorite diner. Not knowing what Spencer would like, you order pancakes, French toast, an omelet, two different breakfast skillets, a sandwich, and sides of bacon, sausage, and toast. While you’re waiting for the order, you walk farther down the street to the small coffee shop you frequent. Again, you could only guess how Spencer liked his coffee so you ordered your usual mocha with extra sugar, a cold brew, and a hot black coffee. After collecting your drinks, you make your way back to the diner to pick up the food.

 It is a struggle to re-enter your apartment with all the food you just bought in your hands. When you finally push the door open, you see a confused Spencer sitting up on the couch glancing in your direction. He glances at the bags in your hands and his confusion only grows. With his help, you finally manage to set everything down on the counter. “Coffee?” You ask, gesturing to the cups.

 “Which one is for me?” he chuckles. “Oh! Right, I got a few different kinds since I didn’t know what you’d like. You can just take your pick and I’ll grab one after.” You begin to unpack the food choices as he tries the first coffee. Almost instantly he gags.

 “That one must be mine.” You say sheepishly as you take the cup from him. “That’s the usual response when people try my drink of choice.” He looks at you funny as he settles on a cup.

 “Really? I thought that was a normal order. I just like my coffee different than pretty much everyone.”

 You look at him as you take a sip of the drink, instantly spitting it into the sink that was behind you. “ew ew ew, that is black coffee. That is disgusting. Oh my god how can anyone drink that.” You chug some water to rinse the taste from your mouth. “Which coffee did you pick?” you ask as you grab the creamer and sugar to fix the monstrosity in front of you.

 “The sweetest one…” Spencer looks almost shy as he admits how sweet he likes his coffee.

 “Ahh, the mocha with extra sugar. That’s my go to.” You say as you dump the sixth spoonful of sugar into your dup. He stares at you in amazement as you finish stirring the now creamy looking beverage. “Much better” you exclaim after taking a sip.

 “I have never met anyone who likes their coffee as sweet as I do.” Spencer has a dopey grin on his face as he looks at your cup. “It’s refreshing not to be judged for something so minute.”

 “I know exactly what you mean! It’s so weird how people can think they are superior for some reason just because their taste buds don’t automatically reject the disgusting bitterness of unsweetened coffee. I mean, I’m still a perfectly capable adult even though I like sugary things. You don’t have to fit into some mold…” Your rant fades from your mind as you meet Spencer’s gaze. “Sorry, I tend to ramble.” You look sheepishly at the floor, immediately jumping into describing the foods you bought. “Now, as for breakfast. I wanted to say thank you for last night, but I wanted to make sure I got something you liked.”

 You scan the array of food you’ve placed in front of you. “You can even feel free to have some of each if you want!” You say as Spencer just stares at you with a look on his face that you can’t quite place.

 “You are incredible,” he says as he takes a seat and gets some food. You don’t really know how to respond to that, so you just grab some food for yourself as you sit down across from him.

 Talking with Spencer during breakfast is so easy. It’s almost as if you didn’t have a major break-up less than 24 hours ago. All too soon, breakfast had come to an end and there are no more dishes to do or leftovers to clean up to stall anymore. Spencer grabs his bag and says “I should probably get going, I have a few errands to run.”

 You let out a small sigh before responding “oh, yeah, of course. I wouldn’t want to keep you. Thank you again for everything yesterday. It was really nice of you.” Spencer shrugs before responding, “I just wanted to help,” turning and walking out of your apartment.

 After locking the door behind him, you sink to the floor fully letting your strange mix of emotions take over. You just might need to listen to that playlist again, only now you’re feeling a range of emotions instead of just a range of sadness.

 tag list:

@mac99martin @eevee0722 @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets15 @laurakirsten0502 @green-intervention @burnin-passion

[avacoleman]

Major, major thanks to @pragmaticoptimist34​ for breaking the godawful writer’s block I’ve been having as of late. This story is very much still forming itself but at 9.5k so far, I think it’s off to a solid start. Imagining a scenario where TK doesn’t move to Austin has been a lot of fun. Hoping to get this story out soon! 💜

“Pick a color: blue or red,” Carlos says.

TK props his phone up against the glass on his nightstand.

“Is this a Matrix situation?”

Carlos laughs and shifts on screen half his body going out of frame for a moment before he reappears with two shirts draped over his forearm.

“No, I’m just having a hard time deciding which one of these to go with for Sunday night.”

TK feels a cold trickle at the back of his neck.

“Hot date?” he says jokingly but the unease he feels from the question settles like a weight in his stomach.

Carlos makes a show of wiggling his brows and smirking.

“Oh yeah, hot date at my tía’s house with my parents. We might have to call the 126 to put out those flames.”

It shouldn’t matter to TK one way or the other if Carlos had plans with a guy but the relief he feels is swift, a balm that soothes over the initial sting.

“I haven’t been on a proper date in longer than I care to admit,” Carlos continues.

TK’s right brow shoots up instantly.

“How is that even possible?”

Carlos’ head tips adorably to the side.

“What do you mean?”

TK scoffs. “I mean, you’re...well, you’re you,” he sputters. “I just mean, you have a lot going for you. I would think dating would be a total breeze for someone like that.”

Carlos laughs and shakes his head.

“I have a knack for going after the wrong guys, I guess. Things go well enough in the start but inevitably…” he trails off, miming an explosion before shrugging. “Never really works out in the end.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright. Everything in life works out how it’s meant to and those relationships just weren’t meant to be and that’s okay. If anything, I like to look at it like…leaving the door open for the right guy to come along when it’s time.”

Silence falls between them as TK mulls over his words. He can’t help but to think of the ways in which the disastrous end to his relationship with Alex has seemingly defined him for the last six months. His whole world had fallen apart the second he learned of Alex’s infidelity. That news had upended years of progress and sobriety, broken him down to his bare bones. He wishes he could have a fraction of Carlos’ perspective. Perhaps then he would have been able to weather the storm that blew through his life months ago.

It gives TK a lot to think about, far more than he can even hope to dissect tonight. For now he nods and puts a pin in this train of thought.

“You should go with blue,” he says, recentering not just the conversation but himself. “You look really nice in that color especially.”

He makes no mention of the fact that it’s the same color Carlos was wearing the first time they met. TK wonders if his last sentence is a step too far but Carlos simply smiles brightly on screen.

“Blue it is then.”

Carlos looks at him for a moment and draws in a breath.

“I should let you get some sleep. Thanks for the help and just...being here to talk to. I really like these chats.”

TK can’t help but to agree. In ways Carlos hasn’t even realized, his presence in TK’s life has felt more like a godsend. But such a declaration is too grand to make so TK goes with a simplified version.

“They mean a lot to me. Goodnight, Carlos.”

Carlos’ smile is soft, those tender brown eyes somehow managing to take his breath away through the screen.

“Sweet dreams, TK.”

[angry-geese]

At Dawn’s Break III

PB!Dio Brando x Maid!Reader, Jonathan Joestar x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: none! sfw, mention of death, but nothing too graphic. Mostly plot. Not the healthiest relationship dynamic. Technically yandere Dio but its very tame

Notes: Part One- sfw, Part Two- nsfw, Part Four - nsfw

This has been in my drafts for so long I’m so sorry. I do have a friend helping me edit my ao3 stuff so there might be some grammatical differences between that and the stuff posted here but i'll try to keep it as consistent as possible- story-wise its still the same.

In the coming months, word would arrive of your father’s death.

Sad wasn’t the right word for it. The man was old, sick, and frail. He fell ill and never recovered. Things like that happen. It was expected. His passing was quiet, happening in the early hours in the morning. You had grieved his death long before it actually happened. Your love for him was more out of a sense of duty than anything else. He was never a proper parent, the harsh expectations of life were thrown upon you rather young. At nineteen you were left as the sole guardian of your siblings. Some nights you would scream about the unfairness of it all, others you would wallow in your pity. The constant "sorry for your loss"s infuriated you. It would not bring him back. It would not fix this hole you've dug for yourself. It did nothing to justify what you've gone through. The world wasn't going to stop spinning just for you to feel sorry for yourself.

So you returned to work.

Your meetings with Dio grew fewer and further apart. Your conversations were short, ending with arguments. What he could dish out, you threw right back. Often you found yourself bitter and frustrated with him, leaving much space between the two of you. It wasn’t that you loved him any less, but he wasn’t exactly understanding in this matter. Neither of his fathers- adopted or biological- could he stand. Putting it plainly: Dio was awful at comforting people. Sympathy was not one of his strong suits. Going to him for comfort was out of the question.

Your life was soon after consumed by the mundane nature of work. The repetition of it you found soothing. It was nice to have a routine. Even if Dio wasn’t there for you, it was. The head maid took notice in your sudden interest in work, and blamed Dio for your lacking efforts. You just nodded and kept your head down.

Mr. Joestar would soon fall ill. Due to his old age, it didn’t come as a surprise to many. Very few questioned it. He was older, but seemingly healthy at the time. He fell sick overnight with the flu, which soon turned to pneumonia. It was not looking like he would recover. His coughing fits could be heard from across the manor. Much of it reminded you of your own father, so you often stayed away, only coming around when it was asked of you.

It makes you wonder if Dio feels the same sense of duty to his father. Probably not. He does not understand family ties in the same way you do. He was very attentive when Mr. Joestar fell ill, often providing medicine for him. If you were called to help, he would go in your place. It feels false, like a mockery of a doting son. Yes- he's providing for his father, but it feels like an alien trying to copy a human. Like a robot trying to replicate human love. It’s not out of any kindness in his heart. What he feels isn’t love. Sometimes you don’t think he’s capable of it. But if he did love something, it was power. He’d never admit it, but it was also you. Having you so consumed with grief enraged him. It was a childish want for attention that he found hard to conceal. He never took out his anger on you, finding himself afraid of turning out to be like his birth father driving his mother into an early grave. Often he thought about how easily he could force your hand, make you chose between him and your family. Deep down he didn’t want to toss out an ultimatum. You had just as much of a bite as him; unstoppable force meets immovable object. In no way he saw that ending well. Others had noticed the growing distance between you. People talked- as they did- rumors spread.

“Y/N.” Jonathan’s voice startles you.

“Mister Joestar, how-”

“Call me Jonathan.”

You cringe at the interruption.

“Jonathan.” You say. “How can I help you?”

“Will you take a walk with me?”

He guides you out to the garden. Winter has left it scraggly and barren, washed out in cold, white light. A few wilting leaves cling to the trees. Only a handful of rooms are lit within the house. It feels personal, being dragged through the place where you spent so many of your nights with your lover. Calling him that feels strange. Lover seems like too innocent of a word.

Over your time at the Joestar estate, there isn’t much you know about Jonathan. Dio talked of him. Often. It was never good, though he had a way of exaggerating things. By now you’ve learned to take it with a grain of salt. Your meetings with the second Joestar son have been few and rather brief. He seems sweet, albeit a bit naive and too engrossed in high society to talk with the likes of you. The girls in the kitchen swoon over him, although he’s sweet on a neighbor girl. Erina- you’ve heard of her. She’s been over for dinner before.

"How are you?" He asks.

"Fine, I suppose." You say, a bit irritated with the small talk. "What is it you need of me?"

"I heard what happened," absentmindedly he picks at his nails, "and I wanted to give my condolences. I imagine this situation is... unpleasant for you."

"I manage." You say. "But I doubt that's what you brought me out here for."

He nods. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Then ask away. I'd be happy to answer."

“You’re close with Dio, aren’t you?” He asks.

“A bit. Why?”

While you’re almost certain he knows, it feels easier to lie. You were not the star-crossed lovers that Jonathan and Erina were, the type of partners that made the girls you work with swoon and wish for such a thing, the type of love people write books about but fail to recreate. Your relationship was more out of a mutual agreement than it was proper love, but you suppose it was there. The two of you were angry, scathing people who were capable of god knows what. Together you could be terrifying.

“You two seem to spend quite a lot of time together.” He says. “Have you noticed anything strange with him?”

“No.” You say. “I haven't noticed anything like that."

"He's awfully attentive with father..."

"It's bizarre." You say. He laughs.

"I'm heading to London in a few days- to the university. Father's medicine hasn't been working, and I want it to be examined." From his coat pocket he produces a small green bottle. it's familiar. Dio has one quite like it.

"Do you need anything while you're away?" You ask, wishing to get back to your work. There was laundry that needed to be done.

"No," he says, turning to you, "thank you for your time. I should get going."

Before you can leave, he stops you.

"I know it's no business of mine, but my brother is bad news. You're a sweet girl and I don't want anything to happen to you. Dio is capable of things you couldn't even imagine."

"You're right. It is no business of yours."

He gives you a quick goodbye before leaving you alone in the garden.

Over time, Dio has grown more serious about keeping you close. He has a malicious, possessive streak to him. Your recent distance has only brought that out more. There is no talk of marriage- his adoptive father would never approve- but he talks of the future. Often. For you, the future meant work. To some extent, you could live with that. You never knew what it meant for him. He jokes of world domination.

You’re not quite sure you want to rule the world, but you do want to get out of London.

You stop just under the apple tree. It’s sickly and sad looking. The last of the fruit has fallen off and rotted. A few wilting leaves cling onto the branches. Jonathan gives you a quick goodbye, before returning to the house.

The door to his room is open. A lantern is lit, though the curtains are drawn shut. There’s no need to knock, you’re the only person who will walk in.

“Sit with me, pet.” Dio says.

Maybe the nickname has grown on you. It no longer draws out the same reaction of disgust and discomfort. Time has softened your hard outer shell. He opens his arms and instinctively you go into them. His chest feels unnaturally cold, but being so close to him makes you feel safe. The smell of his cologne is familiar and comforting, you find yourself leaning in closer. You allow yourself this one moment of weakness. He rests his chin on top of your head.

“I don’t have long,” you say, “I must get back.”

He pulls you closer. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Jonathan came and talked with me earlier.” You say.

You could almost swear you heard his heart skip a beat. His grip around you loosens, allowing you to shift to face him. His expression is unreadable.

“Yes.” He says. “I figured he would.”

“Why?”

You almost ask what he’s done.

Accusing him of something would only make him shut down. You already have a guess. The entire conversation leaves a bad taste in your mouth. It’s a constant unease and discomfort, more than it is outright pain. He's scheming- as he does- but more importantly, he hasn't told you about it.

“My brother doesn't believe in my ways.” He says. "I would never do anything to hurt father. It's no fault of mine that he won't recover."

"Then tell me what was in the bottle." You say. "As of right now, Jonathan is on his way to get that 'medicine' tested."

"I never gave any of it to him."

Jonathan won't see it that way. The authorities surely won't be as kind as his brother. And if he gets caught- what then?

"So you give it to someone else- so some unassuming person is killing him."

Dio doesn’t respond. Do you really expect more of him? He’s proven to be capable of many things. You’ve long since learned he wants to be the sole heir to the Joestar estate. It was a given. Power is something he craves. As much as he jokes about world domination, there's always a serious tone behind them. In the beginning, it just seemed like his nature; he was always collected and intense. Some truth must have been behind them. He makes no attempt to hide that. But this...

Murder is a bit too cold-blooded for your tastes. Morally you don’t have the high ground. You don’t find yourself above much, but you'd like to think you're above murder. If its what you need to do to survive, you believe you'd give it a pass, but as the time comes you're less sure of it. Mr. Joestar gave Dio an opportunity that doesn’t even come once in a lifetime for many. It feels like a slap in the face, just adding insult to injury. This feels like betrayal in the purest sense of the word. While you aren’t close to his father, you have a bit of respect for the man. His death would not cause you the same grief as your own father’s, but you would be sad.

But he is old, and not all old people recover from illness.

Most of the estate would go to Jonathan upon his father’s death. Really, this seems short-sighted. As the younger son, Dio isn’t entitled to all that much. But getting rid of his brother might be easier said than done. Part of you is angry for how little he’s thought this through. Truly, you expected more from him. With as much as he schemes, you had expected a better plan.

Your reaction isn’t quite what he expected. Anything but blind love and acceptance is seen as betrayal to him. To you, everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong.

If he fails- if- there is no recovering from this. If he is caught, many signs point to you as an accomplice.

Silently he exits, leaving you alone in his dark room.