#and I can see in his heart how he’s been affected by it. he’s not a super fan or anything but I can just tell (big sister thing.) Anyways I

[suiana]

(yandere! alien x gn! reader)

the human spirit is indomitable. that much was obvious, especially with how you were still fighting against him even though there was clearly no escape. or at least that's what he thought.

"why do you still fight against me..."

the alien mumbles, voice cracking as he tries to move under the rubble you trapped him under. shit, this was not ideal at all. he can't believe you actually manage to drug him and then trapped him under the broken ceiling you shattered when he was chasing after you.

he still didn't know how you did it. he was faster, stronger, smarter... you shouldn't have been able to trick him like this. yet, his overconfidence might've been a reason as to why you got a one-up over him.

"you know there's no escape right? my spaceship has yet to dock at a port and we are light years away from earth."

the otherworldly creature tries reasoning with you, staring at your shaking figure as you tug at the collar he made you wear. it was a pretty thing, made of the finest jewels he got from another planet he visited a few years back.

he thought it would look good on you, and it did. so his heart aches when you destroyed it, allowing the jewels to scatter all over his once pristine floors.

no matter, he can just fix it again.

"darling, you should stop resisting. you will just tire yourself out."

the alien sighs, not finding your actions amusing as he shakes his head.

he doesn't get humans at all. why do you try so hard even when there's clearly no intelligent way to win this? perhaps that's why your civilization is still heaps below others, like his.

that was, until, he saw you dig out the microchip tracker he implanted into your neck with your bare hands.

his eyes widen in horror, jaw going slack as he screams, body shaking as he desperately tries moving under the rubble only for you to step on his face and throw the chip at him.

"fucking alien... don't you know? adrenaline is one hell of a drug."

he hears your laughter resounding through the hallways, your footsteps growing softer and softer as he tries to recover from your painful stomp.

his eyes shake, his features in undeniable pain as he feels his body giving up on him.

no, no, no!

he tries wiggling more, but unfortunately, his species had not adapted to recover from situations like this. so all he could do as he laid in pain under the rubble was to shout at you, desperation in his tone as he sees you touching and entering something into the emergency escape pod he had on his spaceship.

"darling don't you dare leave!"

he screams, looking absolutely pathetic as his eyes widen in both fear and anger. no! you weren't supposed to leave! you were supposed to be just some human who would give up escape and love him! you were supposed to accept him as your mate the second he kidnapped you because of how obsessed he had become after observing you for weeks in his spaceship!

you weren't supposed to leave him under the rubble like this!

you're clearly weaker, more stupid... and definitely an inferior species! why couldn't you just love him?! why couldn't you just give up and accept his affections?!

"darling! i'm warning you! if you leave i will find you and i will be very angry!"

the alien tries threatening, wincing in pain as the effects of your face stomping still lingered. but of course, he knew you wouldn't listen to him. not when you so eagerly pointed your middle finger at him (a sign he came to see as disrespect in human customs) before leaving in the space shuttle.

he lets out a strangled scream, completely still under the rubble as his frustration and anger reaches it's peak. god damn it! now he has to wait for god knows how long until the drug wears off to finally be able to move and try to find you!

maybe he shouldn't have doubted humans so much. perhaps the rumors about the human spirit being indomitable were right. maybe the humans really were meant to conquer the stars.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere concept #yandere alien #yandere alien x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being in a relationship with Dottore but with a twist. He has a fake amnesia.

Imagine months after reuniting with your lover. You started to notice that he was a little different from before. He was your Dottore, at the same time, just like what you have felt before. He was different, there were times where it felt like he was the man you love, but there were also times where you wonder if this man was really the man you love.

"Dar- no, Dottore. Can we talk?" He was busy, you knew that. He was always busy. But at the same time, he always make time for you. He always does, that was something that never changed. "Dottore? Little one, what did I do wrong this time?" Setting down his paper, his masked face came into view. "You always call me Darling but often call me by my name whenever you're upset." He spoke gently, standing up from his seat and started walking towards you who was now looking down at your lap, unable to face him for the words that you are about to say.

Imagine, you love Dottore. Even when he went missing for months. Even when it has to be you to go and went to look for him not the other way around. You did that because you love him. But you do not know what to feel anymore. He feels different. Or maybe you never get to know his true self, maybe what he have shown to you was a mare fragment of himself. You love him still, you do. But sometimes he scares you. It was not just you, you could see the way others look at him, some were admiration, respect and there there was the look of terrified people. There was also that fact that he never once, after meeting you, took of his mask. Did he not trust you anymore?

"Little one." There he was right in front of you. "Couldn't bare to look at me anymore hmm?" There he was sweet talking you, it reminds you of the past where he would often do the same when soothing you. "Look at me little one." You felt him gently place a hand on your chin before gently lifting it up. "Tell me what's wrong, hmm?" You were contemplating, once in a while looking back and front at him and into our side only to let out a sigh. "Dottore, I think we need a break..."

Imagine, Dottore thought you were really interesting. That fact that you, manage to capture the heart of one of his clones, telling you about his real name let alone where to find him. Tells how important you have become to that clone of him. And to be honest for the past months that he has been with you, he did see why. Why his clone had gone through such measure. You were kind and innocent. Very innocent. He could tell you a lie and you would believe it with no questions asked, makes him wonder how could such human being give their trust so easily. It makes him thrilled and it cames him greedy. He wanted to keep you at all cost within his arms, make sure yor world would only revolve around him.

so Imagine the way his eye twitches as soon as you said those words. He have always been patience with you. But at those very moments, he almost grabbed you by the neck, almost asked you why, why would you say such scary thing? Take a break? Why was that needed? He was giving you everything that you want. His time, affection, expensive gift and jewellery, the books that you want. So why was that needed? What was wrong? Why the fuck would you think the two of you needed a break? But then he needs to calm down, he needed to calm down. So with silent rage, he asked. "Why?" Then you answered. "Because sometimes, you felt like a different person, Dottore. You're scaring me sometimes." You answered, eyes tearing up. "I'm sorry." You sniff, looking down once again as he halted.

Imagine the way Dottore halted. A different person? Of course that make sense. He and his clone may be the same but at the same time, they were not. And it was his clone you fell in love with. There might be a resemblance when it comes to him and his clone but the fact that you thought, you felt like they were different, he was different was making sense. But so what? So what if they were different? In the end, he was the one who remained, the was the original. His clone may have found you, but you found him. And that was his win.

Imagine, to your surprise. Dottore suddenly kneel down in front of you. "What are you doi-?!" When you urged when to look at you, his mask was gone, forgotten on the floor. This- this was the face of the man you love. "Little one." You felt your heart ache at his pained smile as you felt him take a hold of your hands that was resting on your lap. "I'm sorry you felt that way." The way his face sadden, his lips curling down, you felt bad to yourself. "Maybe it has something to do with my amnesia." He looked away as you looked at him wide eyes. "What?!" "No- that was a slip of tongue Little one. Do forget what I have just said." Then he stood up and was about to leave. "Perhaps you are right, Little one. Maybe we should take a break.." He sound so heart broken that it immediately snap you out of your flabbergasted state.

Imagine the way you chase after him, grabbing him by the hem of his coat just like the first time the two of you met. "Wa-wait. Dotto- Darling. What do you mean amnesia?" You sound like you were about to cry that it almost made his lips curl up. "Di-did you get hurt while you were away?" This time you thug his coat harder. "Is that why you were not able to come home to me?" You felt so bad. "Is-is that why you were acting to different? Because you lost your memories?" Then you felt his shoulder tremble causing you to panic and hug him from behind. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. Darling, I was wrong. We don't need a break, I was a fool. I'm sorry, please don't mind what I said. I did not know you have gone through such thing. If I have known I would never do such thing. I should have never doubted you, Darling."

Imagine the way he turn around and how his heart broken face. Making you feel even bad, his time hugging him, hiding your face on his chest as you cry silently, telling him sorry for saying such hurtful and stupid things. But when you felt him hug you back, you felt a little relief one to feel bad once again when you could clearly feel his shoulder trembling. Once again you murmur stings of apologies, promising you'll be by his side until the end. But in contrast to your imagination. He was not crying like you has imagined him to me. In fact he was laughing, he was laughing silently that it causes his shoulder to go up and down. A devilish smile on his lips as he pull you even closer to him. "It's alright." In contrast to his grin, his voice sounds hurt no one would ever assume it was coming from him if they were to look at his face right now. "You're forgiven, Little one. Stay by my side like you promised, hmm."

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

#dark night hero #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin drabbles #genshin impact imagines #dottore genshin #dottore x reader #genshin impact dottore #il dottore #dottore #x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x reader

[tsimvkas]

find comfort in you — trent a.

A/N: it took me a week to be able to write this so im sorry to be posting it on a happy sunday lmao 😵‍💫 a proper trent fic is coming soon please be patient with meee

In the six months you’ve been together, you’ve seen Trent crying once: when Klopp announced his decision.

Since then, you’ve been dreading this day. The final game, when Trent would have to say goodbye to one of the most important men of his life.

When all the celebrations ended and the player’s family entered the pitch, you sat and waited. Trent is very reserved, and you’re even more reserved than him.

Since day one, the agreement was not dragging attention to the relationship, which means you hadn’t been officialised to the rest of the world yet.

It was never a problem to you, not wanting to have people stalking you around or commenting weird things on your socials. But in moments like these you wish Trent were a normal guy.

You wish you could just go there and share the moment with him and his family, supporting him and telling him how proud you were. How strong he was.

But your choices needed some sacrifices, so you kept watching the lap of honour as a normal fan, smiling to the view of your boyfriend holding Aura, so happy and comfortable in her uncle’s arms.

Having seeing him crying earlier during Klopp’s speech had broken your heart, but you knew it was coming. Even though the rest of the world doesn’t know how much, Trent is a sensitive guy, and the end of this era — the only era he has known in his professional career — really affected him.

You agreed to meet them in the parking lot, so when Marcel waved for you it was your signal to leave.

Patiently waiting next to Trent’s car, you instantly noticed how his mood had changed since the last time you checked on him on the pitch.

When no one’s watching, is when your boy shows how he’s actually feeling.

“Are you coming home with me?” was the first thing he said, but instead of teasing and saying something like ‘good night to you too’, you chose to cup his face and stroke his cheeks.

“I think your mum was thinking about staying with you, she was telling me about what she’ll cook” you told him softly, your heart hammering in your chest when he leaned on your touch.

“I asked her not to. Just for tonight, I need to be alone” Trent squeezed your waist, sighing. You nodded, since you imagined that he’d want some space after the draining day.

“That’s ok babe” you stroked his chin. “Can you drop me home?”

“No” he shook his head and opened his eyes, his pleading eyes immediately finding yours. “I need to be alone with you. Can you come?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course” you felt your heart tightening with worry. “What do you want for dinner? We can have a takeaway”

“I don’t feel like eating” he mumbled, playing with the hem of your Liverpool shirt. “I just wanna cuddle and sleep”

It was your turn to sigh, but you kept stroking his cheek to give him some comfort. “Trent…”

“You can make me breakfast tomorrow” he shrugged, and you knew the subject was over for him.

“Do you want me to drive?” you asked him, ignoring the dinner topic for a while. When he nodded, you pecked his lips and walked to the driver’s side.

You drove quietly, scratching Trent’s scalp at every traffic light and smiling at his little pout.

It didn’t take long to get on his porch, and soon you were turning off the engine. Trent jumped out of the car and ran to open your door for you, making you smile.

Holding hands, you entered his house with him and Trent sighed at the warmth of his safe space.

Once you were in his room, you let go of his hand to open his wardrobe.

“You can shower first” you told him, wanting your boyfriend to have a relaxing time whilst you got to tidy his room. You love Trent, but on a daily basis he’s a messy guy and there’s nothing you can do about it.

He nodded without enthusiasm, accepting the towel you grabbed for him and walking to the bathroom.

Knowing Trent you knew it was going to be a long shower, so you got to work. Changing the bed sheets, putting his clothes in the laundry, opening the bedroom’s window and preparing a snack for him, soon you were back in his room.

Placing the sandwich and the cup of tea on his side table, and looked for the pyjama you’re always leaving there for moments like these.

When he got out, Trent frowned at the plate on the table, but you didn’t give him time to complain, quickly kissing his cheek and entering the bathroom.

Coming back to his bedroom, you were welcomed with the sight of Trent still sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for you. His tired and puffy eyes looked back at you when you got closer and leaned to peck his lips, happy to see that the plate you brought him was empty.

“Ready to knock out?” you murmured, scratching his scalp. Instead of answering, he grabbed the hoodie next to him and handed it to you.

“It’s cold tonight and we know I’ll steal the blanket” he murmured, giving you a shy smile

Giggling, you wore the hoodie before climbing in bed. Cold or not, Trent’s bedroom was acclimated and he could easily make the room warm, but you know how much he liked seeing you in his clothes and after a day like the one he had you think you boy deserves the little happinesses.

When your boyfriend crawled behind you, you let him lay in bed before laying on top of him and tucking your head into his neck, sighing when his hand started to stroke your lower back gently.

In the past six months you quickly found out that cuddling with Trent was one of the best parts of your relationship. His strong arms made you feel safe and it never took you long to sleep with the comforting warmth that irradiates from him.

“Thank you for staying with me tonight” he murmured, and you instantly pulled back to look at him.

“Always. Are you ok, though?” you gently stroked his cheek, brushing away a few tears that you know he tried to hold, without success.

“I’m gonna be” he murmured, kissing your nose. “We’re all gonna be alright. But I was thinking…”

“Mm?” you gently poked his nose, waiting for him to talk.

“You should come live with me” he said casually, biting a smile. “If I’m not seeing Klopp everyday I think I should be able to see you everyday”

“You’re comparing me to Klopp?” you raised an eyebrow.

Trent smiled softly and shrugged, and it was crazy how you could make him feel better even after the intense and emotional day he had.

“I mean, both are family”

You rolled your eyes with a pretending disbelief.

“I’m surprised you never tried to move in with him, Trent”

“I did” he mumbled, making you laugh loudly. “Ulla said no”

“I’m Klopp’s replacement then” you mocked, playfully biting his jaw.

Your boyfriend shook his head, now looking at you seriously. “You’re not a replacement. I just think the time is right but I understand if you think it’s too soon”

“I know baby” you kissed his cheek, smiling he caresses your back beneath the hoodie and your shirt. “I’ll move in with you if you learn how to clean your room”

Trent eagerly nodded, hugging your waist tighter and pecking your lips.

“Deal. I’ll clean it everyday after training”

“We know you can’t clean it everyday, not even if your life depended on it, Trent” you chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder.

“But you’ll move anyways” he brushed his nose on your hair. Trent always says how much he loves the smell of your hair products, and you think it’s cute how he pays attention to that, even complaining when you use a different one.

“I will” you kissed his neck. “I’d do anything to be closer to you”

Tangling your legs together, your boyfriend yawned before readjusting your body on top of his so you could both be more comfortable.

“I wish Klopp felt the same” Trent jokingly sighed, making you both laugh.

You know he’ll cry when you’re asleep. You know there’s a maximum amount of comfort you can offer.

But you also know that Trent will feel better if he can cry holding you; for him, your presence is already enough. You know he’ll wake up with puffy eyes and a tired expression, but he’ll get up and look for you in the kitchen.

He’ll give you a softly smile and hug you, giving your face little kisses until you start to giggle and push him away. He’ll sit and wait for you to finish coffee, and then bring you to sit on his lap.

Trent knows that tonight something was taken away from him, and that the future is uncertain, but he has you. And you, he’s sure, are his only certainty.

#✧･ﾟ: *✧ tsimvkas — works #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander x you #trent alexander x reader #trent alexander fanfic #trent alexander imagines

[makyurini]

She Washes All of My Wounds For Me | Touya Todoroki

cw/tw: NSFT, fem reader (AFAB anatomy, femme pet names), so so SO much hurt/comfort, a lot of angels/heavenly/sinners/god-like imagery, touya is so desperate to be loved and in so much denial about it, one (1) little teeny weeny mention of Sir kink as a joke, one (1) verbal argument, touya breaks a piece of furniture during said argument but does NOT hurt reader, touya is too stubborn for his own good, drunk touya however is less stubborn, drunk apologies in the rain because i am not immune to cliches, oral and fingering (f! receiving), reader does have a Bush, praise and praise and praise and praise, super duper soft smut with obsessive undertones because of who i am as a person, touya also VERY vocal in bed, happy ending (in more ways than one)

wc: 15,240

a/n: you all thought i forgot about my re-uploads? (i did but shhh) here is one of the most personal fanfics i’ve ever written and probably my favorite (so far). enjoy! <3

The first time you call Dabi by his name, he swears he sees a halo floating above your head, glitter cascading down the face he’s spent months memorizing and the body he would consider his home if he deemed himself worthy.

He never knew a thing that has brought him so much pain, so much agony, something he thought was forever cursed to be a shameful thing to hide behind skeletons in dusty closets could sound so sweet, so tender, so gentle.

But he supposes every world that falls out of the mouth of an angel is bound to sound heavenly.

His limbs are tangled with yours, his head is pressed against your shoulder in hopes that maybe you can share the burden that lies on his, his heart has been cut out of his chest and locked in yours for safe keeping, and yet he can’t believe you still manage to find ways to rock him down to his very core. You’re a saint, something so ethereal and otherworldly he never thought his temporal hands would have a chance to touch you, and yet you still choose a sinner over your throne in the clouds.

It’s a miracle, really, his tainted soul hasn’t scared you off yet. Maybe you’re just as stubborn as he is. Maybe you see him as a charity case. Maybe, just maybe, you do love him and all of his broken pieces no matter how much they bite at your skin and dye them the color of mortals. And the fact that you can say his name with so much purity—as if it really is just another typical Friday evening spent together after a week of trying to bring hero society down and not you changing everything he knows about that goddamn name—just shows how much he doesn’t deserve you.

“What did you call me?” he asks, his face never daring to leave the crook of your neck in fear of you seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, but he can’t hide it from his voice. He knows how he sounds—knows he sounds like a child lost in a world that is far too vast for him to comprehend. Blood rushes in his ears, his hands shake as they grip your hips, blunt fingernails digging into your flesh in a vain attempt to starve off the longing that is filling his bones. It’s consuming him—chewing through calcium and turning it to mere dust between greedy enamel that only knows how to feed on what little affection he receives.

Your fingers lace themselves in his hair, a signal to let him know he’s safe, he’s okay, there’s no reason to sharpen his tongue and forge his armor around you. His heart is starved of love and you’re more than happy to flood it with so much dedication he fears it may burst out of his chest—worthless bones unable to contain all of the emotions he’s tried so hard to keep locked away. “I called you by your name. Is that okay?”

“I don’t know.”

And it isn’t because he doesn’t want you to know his name. He’s already announced it to the world. Of course, you’re going to know it. It certainly isn’t because he hates the way your lips so easily form the two syllables. It isn’t because he no longer wants to associate himself with the name.

He’s simply afraid of his greedy soul becoming attached to the way you somehow manage to make something that used to cause his skin to crawl now bring his heart a peace he’s never known before he saw your face.

“Can I call you it again?”

And you sound so uncertain, so scared you’ve prodded at bruises you didn’t even know existed, terrified of reopening a wound you’ve tried to stitch up before it bled all over your hands, that he can’t help but pull his face away from its safe space and rest his sapphire eyes on yours. Though they shake, he still runs his fingers along your lower lip and tugs so he can look at your teeth and all of the words sitting in them. You look as nervous as he feels. He’ll never tell you that, however, will never let you know how much power a simple word has over him—how much power you have over him. He’s a murderer with an agenda who has allowed rebellion and anger to corrupt his burning body. He can’t let something as fickle as love distract him from his end goal.

But sometimes, he thinks, it might be okay to allow himself to be loved, especially when you make it seem so simple.

“Just don’t get used to it, sweetcheeks,” he muses, a mask of ease sliding over his face, and pulls your body closer to his. “That version of me died long ago.”

“Maybe we can resurrect him,” you whisper into his hair, and it’s then when he realizes he lost control long ago when it comes to you.

And before he can snap back that he killed it himself, you gently kiss the tips of his fingers with a touch so tender, his lungs forget how to function properly.

Still, he manages to mutter, “Some things are better left dead. No use in trying to bring something back to life that wants to stay dead.”

“But what if it never had a chance to live?”

“Then it makes grieving a lot easier. Less memories. Less things to be sad about.”

“Or it makes it more of a tragedy.” And it’s so gentle as how you say it, full of such sorrow for a man you never got to meet. The grief in your eyes pulls at his heartstrings until they’re completely unraveled, put on display for your pure eyes to dissect and analyze, and for once in his life, he isn’t afraid.

Still, only fools allow themselves to be distracted by emotions, and Dabi is anything but a fool. Using his body weight against yours, he easily flips your bodies over so you’re now straddling him, his rough hands ghosting over your soft skin and all of the imperfections he loves so much. His fingers easily find the places that turn you into a whimpering mess above him, and he regains the control he thought he lost long ago.

“C’mon, babe, I had a rough week. Let’s not talk about it, yeah? Let me just make you feel good. Doesn’t that sound so nice? Crying from my cock instead of a stupid name?” Before you can protest, he slips his thumb past your lips and presses it against your tongue, effectively rendering you speechless as you reflexively begin sucking on the digit. “Now that’s a good girl. Let’s not worry about something stupid, okay? Now, what’s my name?”

“Sir,” you moan out around his hand, drool coating his palm in a lewd way that causes all of his blood to rush to his dick.

“That’s the only name I care about.”

The second time you call Dabi by his name, he remembers why it brings him so much pain.

It was such an odd thing to get angry about. After everything he’s done, the stunts he’s pulled, the countless times he’s burned his body trying to set others ablaze, you choose to get mad over the fact that he had to go radio silent for two weeks to keep you out of the attention of those who want to take him down. It’s nothing new, nothing you haven’t been through before. Hell, he’s had to disappear for a month before, and you welcomed him back with open arms.

So why? Why get angry now? Why do your eyes hold such hostility when looking at him? It’s something he’s grown accustomed to from strangers, from heroes who claim to fight for the greater good, from family members who forget the past, from colleagues who don’t agree with his extreme ideals. But from you? Such a thing could bring a man to his knees and grovel for forgiveness.

But not Dabi. Never Dabi. Dabi doesn’t bow to anyone—not even angels with pretty wings and glowing halos.

“What’s the big fucking deal?” he scoffs and plants himself in one of your kitchen chairs, an apple in his hand and a neutral expression on his face to hide the pain burning at his guts. “So what, I had to lay low for a little while? In case that pretty little head of yours forgot: I’m a goddamn villain and you, good samaritan, are not.”

“The big fucking deal, Touya,” you reply through clenched teeth, hands balls in fists and shaking at your sides, “is you just exposed the number one hero in Japan and then disappear for two weeks. I thought you died. I thought they locked you up and threw away the fucking key.”

The sapphires in his skull alight with a fire you haven’t seen in a while, and he grumbles dangerously low, “Don’t think you can just sling that name around to get a reaction out of me, doll, because you ain’t gonna like what’ll happen.” before taking a bite out of his apple.

Closing the space between your bodies, you smack the cursed fruit out of his hand, demanding his attention be solely on you, your chest pressed against his, noses nearly touching as you bare your fangs down at him in hopes he’ll back down. He doesn’t, of course. Instead, he stands right up, towering over you, chair clattering to the floor from the sheer speed of him getting on his feet, his own fangs on display and covered in blood.

“Oh? What’s gonna happen?” you challenge. “Are you gonna disappear? Make me think you’re dying in a goddamn gutter? Or maybe you’ll reveal your identity on live TV for all of Japan to see, expose your family for the abuse and trauma they put you through, also out the number two hero as a fucking murderer, and then randomly not answer any of my calls or texts for two weeks and leave me here to wonder what the absolute fuck is going on? Oh wait, you already did that.”

When Dabi speaks, it’s a voice he barely even recognizes, a voice he’s only heard in the back of his head and never dared to speak aloud—unhinged, angry, scared. A voice he never, ever thought would be directed towards you. But you’re so stubborn, so hellbent on babying a man who has been on his own since he was a child. Though, he supposes he has no one to blame but himself. He is, after all, a goddamn villain, and you, good samaritan, are not.

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do?” The voice shakes with a fear he’s never wanted to show: a fear of losing you—the only thing he’s ever considered worth keeping. “Do you want Endeavor, my father, to come knocking at your door looking for me? Or maybe you want Hawks sending one of his stupid goddamn feathers in here to eavesdrop on you? Want the entire fucking hero commission here tearing your place apart? Do you want to go to prison because...because—” Because I love you.

It hangs in the air between your heaving bodies—a secret he thought he had kept close to his heart, but, looking into your tear-filled eyes, knows that his heart has always been on his sleeve around you. There’s no hiding anything from you because you’ve spent hours, days, weeks, months listening to all of the whispers trapped inside fragile bones and stringing together memories locked away inside of an unstable mind. You knew him before he even knew himself.

His eyes flit around your face in search of any signs of fleeting, any telltales of abandoning him now that you’ve seen all of his ugliness. Because love is such an ugly thing. Love makes people burn their bodies from the inside out just so someone will finally gaze at their flames. Love makes people spend years with the wrong person in hopes that one day they’ll receive the affections they’ve been craving all along. Love makes people foolish, irrational, idiotic. And Dabi has always considered himself smarter than the average man.

The anger in your eyes has dissipated down to pain, and he isn’t sure which one he preferred more. Your hand comes up to cup his cheeks, and he allows it for a breath’s moment before smacking it away as if it were offensive somehow, the limb falling limply by your side before balling into a fist. Anger returns, and it’s then he decides he’d rather have the anger than the hurt. It’s easier to cause a heart rate to spike than it is to stitch a wound.

“Because why, Dabi? Why the hell would I go to prison?” you dare to ask.

“Because we fuck around and they’d be able to trace you back to me.”

The words fall from his lips faster than he can catch them, splattering against your skin with an acid strong enough to strip you down to the bone, put on display and scared of scarring as it eats away at your body. It’s too late for regrets when he sees your eyes cloud over with an agony he can’t even begin to decipher. It wasn’t supposed to hurt you. It was supposed to piss you off, to rebuild the walls he allowed you to carefully deconstruct. He was supposed to make you hate him, to make you forget what the definition of love is and associate his face with villainous tasks not for the faint of heart.

He wasn’t supposed to hurt you.

“So that’s all this is?” you whisper, lowering your head and tucking your fangs back into your gums for safe-keeping. Your voice is strikingly low, quiet even, but that doesn’t stop each word from lacerating at Dabi’s barely-beating heart. “I’m just some fuck to you? Like the days I’ve spent rubbing your back because you drank too much the night before didn’t mean shit? Or the nights we’ve spent telling each other secrets and talking about a future without corrupted heroes was all just fun and games for you? None of it meant anything? I didn’t mean anything? Is that what you’re saying, Dabi?”

Venom sits in his enamel, eroding his tongue and any semblance of self-control he had.

It burns, it burns, it burns.

He thought he’d be used to burning by now—burning forests, burning bodies, burning himself. To be alive is to set yourself on fire, and Dabi bares the scars of his livelihood. It’s all he knows, all he was taught by a man who was determined to have the brightest flame the world has ever seen.

It burns, it burns, it burns.

Touya died in a self-inflicted fire set ablaze by a child who only wanted his father’s love and attention. Is Dabi going to die by yet another fire set ablaze by a man who doesn’t know how to allow himself to be loved?

It burns, it burns, it burns.

It burns to see you so hurt. It burns to know he’s the reason behind it. It burns to look in your cold eyes and see his own angry reflection in them. It burns to see your fists shake and wonder if you’re imagining driving them into his cheeks. It burns to know that he’s losing another home because even now, after all of these years, he still isn’t good enough.

The table sitting next to him splinters into a thousand little pieces as he drives his fist through the wood, all of his frustration and anger towards himself channeled into his bony knuckles. You don’t even flinch at the action, and that only seems to anger him even more. “I didn’t ask you to do any of that shit! You volunteered, in case you forgot, sweetcheeks. I didn’t come knocking at your door asking you to take care of me. You invited me in. You offered me a place to stay. You gave me food to eat, hot water to bathe in, a bed to sleep in. And what the fuck was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, no thank you, hot stranger, I’ll just stay homeless and sleep with rats in a cardboard box’?”

“You didn’t have to pretend to love me,” you shout back, eyes flitting around like a wild animal, fists trembling at your side, chest heaving as if you just ran a mile. “You didn’t have to rip yourself open and put on this whole ‘poor me, poor Dabi’ act if that’s how you really feel. You could’ve just been some typical useless roommate who pops in every now and then. You didn’t have to pretend. You...you didn’t have to lie to me.”

“Wait, I—”

“Oh, no, no it’s fine, Dabi. It’s fine. I’m the one who got caught up in their feelings. It was my mistake. I put way more thought into this than you did. It’s fine, really.”

But it isn’t fine. None of this is fine. The crystals forming in your eyes aren’t fine. The wounds splitting open on your chest aren’t fine. Your shaking hands and tight knuckles aren’t fine. His bleeding heart isn’t fine. His bulging throat clogged with every word he wished he could say isn’t fine. His fists filled with splitters and emotions aren’t fine.

Nothing is fine.

But you’re so determined to protect the treasure in your chest you thought was safe in the hands of a thief (what a foolish, naive thing to think, really), that you’re willing to believe any lie. As long as it’s sweeter than the bitter truth, it’ll go down easier. Deep down, you know the reality behind all of the smoke and mirrors, know it before Dabi runs over to your side with his puppy-dog eyes and dulled flames, have known it since the first time the criminal fell asleep in your arms: he trusts you. And that, for Dabi, means more than something as fleeting as love. Granted, lingering somewhere in that scarred heart of his, you know he loves you. He wouldn’t keep coming around if he didn’t. He wouldn’t steal for you, sneak away from his group for you, try (and fail miserably) to cook for you, include you in his plans, allow you to call him by his name… But loving something as explosive as Dabi means you’re bound to get burned at some point, and you have a funny feeling you’re going to need some salve tonight.

“I...I didn’t mean it like that,” Dabi rushes to reassure you, his hands trying their hardest to find the wounds he caused even though he doesn’t know the first thing about healing. “I just… I’m not the best when it comes to this emotional bullshit, y'know?”

Flinching away from his touch, you whisper, “I think you should go.”

“C’mon, doll—”

“I mean it, Dabi.” Your voice is firmer now, steadier, and you wrap your arms protectively around your body.

“You’re kidding, right?” he incredulously replies. “I didn’t mean it. You’ve gotta believe me, doll. It was just something stupid that slipped out, and you’re gonna kick me to the curb for it? Just toss me aside after everything we’ve been through? After everything I’ve told you? I let you call me my fucking name, and you’re cutting me out over a dumbass mistake?”

And right behind his sapphire eyes, tucked away in the corners of his skull, he can see the white hot flames again, burning away at the tips of his fingers, dancing across his tongue and leaving blisters, new scars decorating his heart and flooding his lungs. He’s choking and sputtering, and though he knows he has the power to stop them, he can’t help but lose himself in the familiar sensation. It feels good to be on fire again. It’s home, it’s all he knows, it’s all he can truly feel—just fire, fire, fire.

Dabi, if nothing, is a man meant to burn. He was born with a flame his body can barely contain, and he’s determined to allow the world to burn with him.

And though he knows how close he was to finding a new home in your bones, and he knows how close he was to having his sins forgiven and the bloods on his hands washed off, he knows he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve any of the smiles flashed at him, any of the seconds spent in your arms, any of the kisses exchanged between hungry mouths, any of the secrets placed on his lips for safe-keeping, any of the butterflies fluttering in his guts.

He was made for destruction, and he’ll die for it as well.

And though he doesn’t want to hurt you, he knows it’s inevitable. Fire doesn’t discriminate against who it burns. He’s living, breathing evidence of that.

When your eyes meet, he can already see the scars forming over them, can see his handprint seared onto the cornea and a new cautionary tale for you: never trust the man with blue eyes to match his blue flames.

“It’s time to go, Dabi,” you state, jaw tight and twitching with anger.

He sneers down at you, “Don’t you mean Touya?”

“He died a long time ago, remember?”

You might as well slapped him in the face, spat in his eye, curse his name and everything he stands for. It hurts more than his own flames ever will—the ice in your scarred eyes, the gates closing around your soul, your fingers curling in on themselves, your lips sewing themselves shut. You’re closing yourself off to him, and he has no idea what to do now that you’ve changed all of the locks and threw away the keys. He’s over, done with, nothing more than the same traumatized child willing to burn himself alive just to have someone look at him for more than a second.

He’s Touya Todoroki: young, naive, driven, boisterous, eager to see the world and be a part of it, ready to prove himself worthy of being born.

He’s Dabi: self-destructive, sadistic, crude, violent, determined to tear the world apart, ready to prove how hypocritical heroes truly are.

He’s neither: scared, lost, unsure if he ever really was any of that, not quite the boy who wants his father’s love but not quite the man who wants to destroy him, unsteady on his feet as he tries to find his place in this ever-shifting world.

He’s both: driven, self-destructive, naive, eager to see the world, determined to tear it apart, ready to prove himself worthy of being born and show how hypocritical heroes truly are.

He doesn’t know who he is anymore, who he wants to be.

All he knows is you’ve given up on him, and that hurts more than any flame that has touched his skin before.

He leaves without another word, no more venom flung at you to add to the scars he’s left, no more furniture broken with shaking fists and scabbed knuckles, no more fiery eyes and sharp tongues. Just a man who has lost the only home he ever truly had.

The third time you call Dabi his name, he learns that love, as dangerous as it is, can heal even the deepest of wounds, and he’s ready to rid himself of the scars that have haunted his skin for as long as he dares to remember.

He isn’t sure how he’s wound up in front of your apartment, rain pouring down on him because his life was never a cliche until he met you, alcohol sitting heavy in his stomach and grounding his feet, new burns spreading across his abdomen and tainting what little skin he has left. He doesn’t want you to see them. He doesn’t want your fingers to trace the spaces his flames have violated and stained with their hatred. He doesn’t want your eyes to flash with pity as they scan him. He doesn’t want your lips to turn down into a frown when you open your door and see his soaked body, crooked grin on his face because everything about him is a little crooked, old staples missing and new ones in new places, his chest cracked open and put on display for you.

He isn’t sure what he’s hoping to get out of this surprise visitation. A part of him hopes to see you angry, because if you’re angry you care, and he isn’t sure how fit he is for a world where you no longer care about him. A part of him hopes to see you apathetic, because that would confirm the belief he isn’t worth anything anymore, and that would make destroying himself a little easier. Another, smaller part of him, hopes to see you happy, to see relief wash your features and erase the fight you two had about love and other fickle things. It might be impossible at this point, but he’s never been one for easy goals.

All Dabi truly knows, however, is he wants to see you. It’s really as simple as that, and though he isn’t a simple man and doesn’t like simple things, the desire to see you is that—simple. It’s been haunting him since he stumbled out of your apartment blinded with anger and fear. How long has it been since he’s stood here? A week? Two weeks? A month? Time becomes such a messy thing when it’s spent trying to find the next surefire way to burn your bones.

Despite the clothes clinging to his skin, he feels naked, stripped of all of his armor and put on display for you to use and dispose however you please. Dabi isn’t the type to come crawling back to places he isn’t wanted. He’d much rather fake his own death and fly under the radar for years until he’s long forgotten about. But Dabi has also never been the type to look at the stars and try to find someone’s name written in them. He’s never been the type to try to find a face in a sea of people bustling about their days without having to worry about how they’re going to make the world know about them. He’s never tried to find meaning in the clouds or why some planets revolve around stars together while others just crash into each other.

But then he met you and suddenly, he cared. He cared about why some birds hid from the rain while others embraced it. He cared about why stars liked to hide and where they disappeared to. He cared about why some wounds healed and served as a cautionary tale and why others stuck around and served as a personality trait. He cared about Touya Todoroki—the boy whose only dream was to be what his father wanted and to be loved by those who were in his life. And that, he thinks, is the scariest thing he’s ever done. To hate is easy, it’s simple, and though he’s not a simple man and doesn’t like simple things, he loved it. He loved being able to burn those who hurt him and have his world be as simple as: if it isn’t beneficial, turn it to ashes. Black and white and blue. That’s all it was.

Then he saw you look at him as if he had personally strung the stars in the sky for you and suddenly, the universe seemed a lot bigger than sick mothers and neglectful fathers.

He still doesn’t quite understand it and, truth be told, he doesn’t think he ever wants to understand it. For once in his life, he’s okay with leaving this mystery unsolved. He’s okay with having more questions than answers. He’s okay with having an unfinished puzzle and not turning over furniture looking for the right piece to complete the picture.

As long as he has you, he’s okay with finding out who Touya could have been before he burned him to ashes.

The light from your apartment floods his sensitive eyes when you swing the door open, and he almost misses the confusion that flashes across your face before you settle for a guarded expression.

“What are you doing here?” It, like most things, is a simple question, but it still hurts nonetheless, especially when paired with your arms crossing over your body and your tone pointedly flat.

And, like most things, the answer is simple: “I wanted to see you, baby.”

You quirk an eyebrow up, but the rest of you remain emotionless, detached. “Baby? That’s a new one.”

He grins. “I’ve been trying out a lot of new things lately.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Oh, you know, calling you baby. Sleeping by myself. Not killing everyone who pisses me off. Admitting when I fuck up.”

What little amusement you allow to seep through is promptly sealed shut behind a frown, and you wrap your arms tighter around your torso in an effort to protect yourself from his charm. “You can’t just show up here and apologize and think that fixes everything. You really hurt me, Dabi.”

“But you haven’t heard the other new things I’ve been trying.”

You huff, knowing once Dabi has his sights on something it’s near impossible to distract him. He’s headstrong, determined, and that’s one of the many reasons you fell in love with him (and got burned for it). “Fine, I’ll listen. But we aren’t doing it out here in the rain. I’m cold and tired and want to finish my tea.”

For the first time in weeks, you allow him in your home, and it pains him how much hasn’t changed. While his entire world was falling apart, the same shoes have stayed by your front door, the same throw blanket has been strewn across the back of your couch, the same kettle sits on your stovetop, the same jackets hang on your coat rack, and you’ve even managed to find the same table to replace the one he smashed. Your life has remained the same without him, and that is something worth shedding a tear over if he could.

He tries to sit on your couch, but you quickly stop him. “You’re soaking wet,” you reason, and motion for him to go to the bathroom. “I think I have some of your old clothes around here somewhere. Wait there and I’ll bring them to you.”

Thankfully, your compassion has remained the same as well. As he stands in your small bathroom built for one person, rain and the last of his ego dripping off of him, he’s reminded of the first time your paths crossed, when he passed out in an alleyway due to overuse of his quirk and woke up in a bed that smelled like tea leaves, old books, and love. He remembers wandering into the kitchen and finding you humming to yourself, a robe wrapped tightly around your body, two mugs of tea on your table, comfort radiating off of your skin and flooding the tiny space. He remembers how high you had jumped when you realized he had woken up, how quickly you rushed to make sure he knew where the bathroom was and how to properly work your shower so he may bathe, how you had a plate full of food ready for him when he returned to your kitchen a clean man.

He remembers asking you why let a strange, scary-looking man who was unconscious in a shady alley sleep in your home, and you simply replied over your mug, “because you look like someone who doesn’t receive help often.” It was so simple then, and he wasn’t used to simplicity. So ke kept coming around, trying to unravel the mystery of why such a sweet person would help such a tainted one, kept asking questions and prodding at your brain in hopes that maybe he’d find out you’re just as sick as he is. That was never the case, of course. It was and always has been as simple as you being a good person and him being someone in need of a home.

He’s drunk and nostalgic, which is not a good combination for men with shattered souls and too many scars to keep track of and generous people with giving hearts and healing words. And although a part of him feels as if he’s taking advantage of the kindness you have shown him, he can’t bring himself to feel guilty. Maybe it’s the selfish animal in his heart that refuses to release its sharp teeth. Maybe it’s how even after all of these months spent together, you manage to find a way to surprise him. Maybe, just maybe, he’s finally ready to accept the love you’ve been offering him. Whatever it is that’s fueling this selfish desire to lock you away in his chest, nestled right between his lungs, safe from the others with sharp teeth and even sharper tongues, he’s allowing it to roam free and take whatever it wants.

He strips himself of his clothing just in time for you to knock at the door, your gentle voice ringing through the wood. “I found some clothes.”

“Well, bring ‘em in,” he replies.

“Are you naked?”

He rolls his eyes, though you can’t see him. “C’mon, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“But—”

“Just open the door, baby.”

His voice is soft as he says it—so soft, in fact, you aren’t sure if you heard him correctly. But you did, and you’re more than aware of the fact that you’re about to see him soaked down to the bone and as naked as the moon in the sky. Hesitantly, you open the door just enough to accommodate your arm, and right when you slide your handful of clothes through the crack, Dabi’s fingers brush against yours. Electricity runs down your skin—hot, familiar, exhilarating. It steals the breath from your lungs, makes you feel as if the wooden floor beneath your feet is shifting, reminds you of how good it felt to have his rough skin pressed against yours. It’s far too tempting to rip the door open and drink in the sight of the man who holds your heart in his scarred palm, and if you still weren’t so hurt over his words, you might have. You almost think Dabi is going to do it, but, much to your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Do you mind closing the door? The draft is a little cold.” He isn’t being ornery about it. There’s no sneer to his voice. He’s almost...kind about it. Tender. Something you never thought you would associate with the man who just weeks ago plotted to murder his younger brother in order to seek revenge against his father.

You nearly slam in the door in your haste to close it and stutter out, “S-Sorry!” before scrambling to your couch. Whoever this Dabi is, you aren’t sure. The last time you saw him, he was angry, hurt, ready to burn everything he has ever known in a vain attempt to feel something other than the pain throbbing in his chest. He was a wounded animal lashing out at anything that dared to try to get close to him. He was a jaded man who never thought himself worthy of kindness. He was impulsive, impatient, self-destructive, and, above all else, vengeful. Whoever has come knocking at your door is not the man who walked out of it. This man, whoever he may be, is humble, quiet, hesitant, and retrospective.

He’s also drunk and has been out wandering in the rain.

Dabi joins you on the couch before your mind can start spinning in circles, his white hair still sticking to his face and droplets cascading down his face, sapphire orbs shining with something you can’t quite put your finger on but still shakes you down to your core. He isn’t irate. He isn’t breaking furniture or complaining about Shigaraki’s next foolish move or ranting about how Endeavor has foiled his latest plan or about how he doesn’t trust Hawks and all of his easy smiles and charming laughter. He’s calm, his hands resting on his knees and eyes resting on your face, searching for something—a sign you’re ready to listen. And despite the wounds you’re still tending to and the bandages on your skin from all of the venomous words he flung at you, your heart and mind are open and willing to take whatever he wants to give you.

It’s an odd feeling to know you’re still okay with this man and all of his thick walls and bloodied hands even after he’s shown you the part of him he keeps buried underneath sneers and a mask of disinterest. Before his temper was turn towards you, you never believed him capable of murder, of violence, of all of those plans he stays up late stringing together and comes home battered and bruised from trying to execute. Before you saw how easily his hands can destroy, he was simply Dabi: the man you found face down and drowning in his own trauma. Now there’s burn marks on your furniture and soul in the shape of his palms, and though you aren’t too sure where to take the next step, you’re still wanting to take it regardless.

Topaz flits from your lips and back up to your eyes, the crystals dripping from his snow hair causing him to look ethereal. A hesitant Dabi is a rare sight, but a beautiful one nonetheless. “Do you want—”

“You must be cold,” you blurt out, shocking the both of you.

He cocks an eyebrow and the smirk you’re all too familiar with returns to his cracked lips. You’re nervous, fluttery, nerves causing you to act more erratic and unsure of yourself. It’s cute, he thinks, cute how you go from so stubborn and closed off to a school girl trying to keep the butterflies in her stomach from crawling up her throat. It’s also a relief to see you get jumpy around him like you used to before he kissed you until your minds turned to mush and your fingers tangled with his hair and he pinned you down to your mattress, bodies tangled so tightly together he wasn’t sure where he began and where you ended. You still care. “Yeah, rain is pretty cold.”

You nod a little too eagerly. “I’ll make you some tea.”

“You go do that, doll.”

“And I can get you a blanket.”

“If you want.”

“And I can make you some food.”

“Sure. I could eat.”

“And I’ll… I’ll be back!”

“Don’t be gone too long.”

He watches you leave with a grin full of amusement and affection, and that does nothing to help ease the anxiety rolling around in your gut. You feel clumsy, skittish, for all of the wrong reasons. You want to kiss him. You want to shake the water out of his shaggy hair and pull on the ends of it while his lips attack your neck. You want to wrap your legs around his waist and feel his thighs flex underneath you as he tries to pull you as close as possible. You want to hear all of those breathless moans that tumble from his lips whenever you nibble on his collarbone. You want to lose yourself in him. Forget the anger, the hurt, the nights spent shivering because you didn’t have him next to you, the mornings spent drinking tea alone and making enough food for one person. He’s back, and you’re almost certain he was forgiven before the moon disappeared from the sky the night he left.

You can feel his eyes burning a hole in your back as you prep your kettle to boil some water, watching the way your hands shake as you turn the burner on and how you nearly drop the lid to it, and you know for a fact he has that same smirk on his lips. Why are you so damn nervous around him now? He’s buried himself in you too many times to count, has whispered the most obscene things in your ear, has seen you at your most raw and unfiltered, and now you’ve turned into a neurotic mess? Why is your stomach doing somersaults and why is your heart slamming itself in your ribcage and why does your throat feel too large for your neck?

Because this Dabi isn’t the Dabi who left. You know in the deepest parts of your guts, past the pain and the hesitance, whoever is sitting on your couch is not the man who broke your table. And even if there’s alcohol swimming in his veins and an ego in need of nursing, there’s something alarmingly self-aware twinkling in his sapphires, something that lets you know he knows. He knows he hurt you. He knows he wasn’t in the right. He knows he bit the only hand that was willing and wanting to feed him. He knows your knuckles still bare his teeth marks. He knows it’s going to take more than a simple fuck to make everything okay again. Because, for the first time, it isn’t going to be simple with you. It isn’t going to be as simple as him needing a bandage and you pulling out a first aid kit. It isn’t going to be as simple as him being angry at the world and you helping him get lost in the stars. And he’s okay with it. He’s okay reopening any wounds that didn’t heal quite right. He’s okay with spilling every single word sitting in his guts. He’s okay complicating himself if that means making things easy for you. Because, like almost everything else that has to do with you, you’re simply worth it.

He speaks up while you’re digging through your closet trying to find a blanket suitable for him, his voice laced with an odd mixture of hesitance and bemusement. “While you’re being all fidgety and shit, can I tell you the other new things I’ve been trying?”

“If you want.” You echo his previous words, careful to keep the anxiety out of your voice, as you prepare to make a meal for him.

Though you can’t see him, he smiles—a real smile for once. No sarcasm or scorn buried underneath taut muscle. A genuine smile with genuine happiness and genuine love. As scary as it is, it’s something he could get used to if he doesn’t keep himself on a leash, but he thinks he might be okay with that. “I looked at myself in the mirror the day after I left.”

That stops all of your tense movements in their tracks. Mirrors have been Dabi’s worst fear since the day you met him, because they contain his worst enemy. He’s avoided them, broken them, used the shards to puncture his heart and lacerate his lungs. He’s covered them, screamed at them, tried to erase them from his memory. To look at himself in the mirror is to face himself head-on, and that’s something you never thought you’d see. “How was that?”

He chuckles, deep and sorrowful, a sound that comes from the bittersweet emotions he’s destroyed his feet trying to run from. “I fucking hated it. I’m a real scary looking bastard, eh?”

“No.” The word tumbles out of your mouth with a resoluteness Dabi never thought himself worthy of. Your eyes are full of conviction once they meet with his, your jaw set in the way that lets him know there isn’t anything that will change your mind.

It’s adorable how deeply you think he deserves love even after he’s shown you how much it can hurt, and he can’t help but chuckle at how quickly your demeanor can change when it comes to matters like self-hate and forgiveness. “Did you lose your eyesight while I was gone? Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I ain’t the prettiest face around here.”

You chew on your lip, careful that the words that leave your mouth help soothe the wounds on his mind. “I don’t care about your scars or your staples. I don’t care about the blood and gore. None of that matters.”

“Oh? Then what does? Because last I checked, society only likes pretty people with pretty quirks and pretty lives. Society doesn’t give a flying fuck about ugly bastards like me with ugly quirks and ugly lives.”

Dabi doesn’t expect you to answer, but you’ve always found ways to surprise him. The food on the kitchen counter is long forgotten about as you close the space between you two, your body just mere inches away from his. It’s the closest you’ve been since that night, and he has to fight the urge to pull you down on his lap. He doesn’t need to, apparently, because you’re practically sitting on it as your fingers trace over his brow bone with a touch so gentle, he could weep right then and there.

“What matters,” you whisper, “is how much your eyes shine when you laugh.” And then, your finger is tracing the corners of his mouth, ghosting over his lips. “What matters is how soft your lips are when they’re pressed on me.” And then, down the hollow of his throat down to his collarbone. “What matters is how you always smell like stale cigarettes and campfires.” And then, down his chest and right on the beginning of his abdomen. “What matters is how safe I feel when you’re holding me.” And finally, your palm rests right above his left peck, right over his hammering heart. “What matters is your passion, your drive, your determination. I don’t give a damn what society thinks about you. I think you’re beautiful, Touya.”

He knows it’s technically impossible but he swears he feels fireworks in his chest—bombastic, ribcage-breaking, heart-shattering, soul-cracking passion tearing his muscles apart until all that’s left is a body full of love. He loves you, and you think he’s beautiful, and he’s almost certain that, in this moment, everything is right in the world. “Can this beautiful man kiss you?” he breathes out, his eyes pleading with you to allow him to show you just how you’ve managed to piece him back together.

“Only if I can kiss him back,” you shyly reply.

If Dabi ever doubted the existence of angels, he knows now how terribly wrong he was, how utterly pessimistic and downright ignorant it was to doubt ethereal lives when he has one right here in his arms, sweet lips pressed against his, legs wrapped around his waist, arms pulling him closer and closer until your chests are touching and there’s not an inch of space between you two. Flashes of gold and thrones and feathers cross his mind as he breathes you in—all of the things he used to deny but now longs for. He wants to rule heaven with you, wants to make new worlds where other angels can’t follow and look down at him in disapproval, where he can’t hear their conspiratorial whispers of the saint who fell in love with the sinner, where he’s free to love you and worship you and allow his temporal hands roam your celestial body.

Dabi is a man who was born of corruption and gluttony and has fallen head over heels in love with purity and selflessness, and though he doubts he will ever think of himself worthy of such things, it won’t stop him from indulging. He is, after all, a bit greedy himself.

When his tongue brushes against yours and the taste of beer explodes in your mouth, you’re uncomfortably aware of the fact that only one of you is sober. You pull away, much to yours and his disappointment, but rest your forehead on his so you’re never too far from him. If you could, you would sew yourself to his skin, bury yourself in his bones and make a home out of his veins, play a prayer of love and devotion on loop so he knows that no matter how much heaven may shun sinners and all of their scars, you’re capable of a little rebellion every now and then.

But for now, while intoxication is a factor in a matter that should be dealt with a clear mind, you’ll settle for holding his hand.

“Dabi, you’re—”

“Drunk,” he finishes for you, a sort of sad smile on his face. “If it makes you feel better, I’m way more sober now.”

It’s a joke to help calm the guilt rolling around in your guts, you know it, and you brush your fingers against the corner of his mouth, wondering how long it’s been since he’s smiled and how often he might now. “Will you regret any of this in the morning?”

It stabs him right in the heart to hear such a question full of hesitance and apprehension asked so quietly, if he weren’t so dead set on catching every word that falls from your lips he might not have heard you. He feels the way your shoulders shake, can tell you’re just barely holding back tears, and he presses his hand to the back of your head to guide your face to the crook of his neck where you’re free to cry and hiccup however much you need. “I could never regret anything when it comes to you, baby. Why the tears?”

“I just…” A shaky sigh falls from your lips, your tears mixing with the droplets still clinging to his hair. “I thought I lost you before and now you’re back and I know technically you’re drunk but I know how sincere you are and it’s all just so—”

His fingers begin to massage circles into your shoulder blades, and he presses his lips to the side of your head, nose full of your scent and trying its best to burn it into his memory. “Babe.”

“Y-Yeah?” you hiccup.

“Fuckin’ breathe. It’s okay. It’s all okay. You didn’t lose me. I’m right here, baby, right fuckin’ here, and I’m not going anywhere. Not again. I fucked up, okay? I fucked up real bad and I know I did. I promise you, I’m not really drunk at all. I mean, I had a good buzz going on when I first showed up, but being here with you, talking with you, sobered me up real quick.”

And he sounds so genuine, so full of love and honesty, you can’t help but tangle your fingers in his hair, pull him so close you can feel his heartbeat against yours, bury your face right next to his jugular and commit mortality to memory. You cry until your eyes are almost swollen shut. You cry until your heart feels too large for your chest. You cry until your breath is a stuttering mess.

You cry for Dabi and all of the pain he’s carried around with him and no place to put it. You cry for Touya and all of the homes he’s lost and all of the times he was never enough. You cry for yourself and how deeply you love a man who only believes himself worthy of destruction. You cry for lost potential and empty promises of better tomorrows. You cry for broken furniture and shattered hearts because no one ever warned you love wasn’t easy. You cry and cry and cry until your voice is hoarse and the only thing you can taste is the salt cascading down your face.

And Dabi holds you through it all. His hands run up and down your back, gently rocking both of your bodies to a tune only he knows, his lips pressed against your head in hopes you can feel the adoration seeping out of his body. He allows you to unleash all of the emotions he’s stirred up in you. He catches every tear that falls from your eyes, thankful he’s unable to shed his own.

Once the world has stopped shifting and you’re able to steady yourself, he carries you to your bed without another word, a tender kiss against your forehead before he turns to leave.

“Where are you going?” you ask, barely managing to whisper.

He smiles down gently at you. “You left some food out. I was gonna put it away then crawl in bed.”

“Don’t care. Come to bed now.”

“Your wish is my command.”

With your face tucked away in his chest, your arms wrapped around his torso, and your legs tangled with his, Dabi falls into a peaceful sleep for the very first time since he learned that family will always be your first disappointment.

The fourth time you call Dabi by his name, he finally allows himself to drown in the emotions he’s spent his entire life learning to swim away from.

The sinner wakes up with angel feathers around his body, the spot where your body laid empty and cold but scent still clinging onto the sheets. He quickly finds himself in a familiar routine of glaring at the nosy sun peeking through curtains and violating his eyes, cursing his nocturnal nature and how much easier it is to be himself in front of the moon and stars. After contemplating if going back to sleep is worth it (it isn’t), he drags his body out of bed and into a warm shower. The smell of your shampoo is somewhere to be found in the leftover steam of your own shower, and he smiles to himself when he remembers where he’s at: home. And it isn’t a home where dishes are broken and voices crack and plead. It isn’t a home where fear sits in the living room and stress waits for him in the kitchen. It isn’t a home where he’s expected to be an adult with obligations without ever knowing what it’s like to be a child full of wonder.

It’s a home where angels sing in the kitchen as they cook breakfast while he tries to wash his sins away in the bathroom and that, he thinks, is the closest to perfection he will ever get.

He walks into the kitchen with a towel around his waist and his scars on full display—new ones angry and red, old ones melancholy and purple—and, for once, he isn’t afraid. He doesn't try to hide them under baggy clothes and jeering words. He allows your eyes to run over them and wince at the fresh ones and squint at the old ones, because he knows you aren’t disgusted by them, you don’t pity him, you accept them as they are—reminders of times where he strayed too close to the fire.

“Morning, baby,” he says around a yawn as he sits at your table.

You smile softly at him and how easy he finds it to be around you. “You’re really laying the ‘baby’ stuff on thick, huh?”

“I mean, you only let me call you a cockslut when you’re being one, and I don’t see you on your knees right now so…”

Flustered, you quickly turn back around to tend to the salmon and eggs you’ve been cooking, probably adding far too much salt but trying to not pay attention to how much your hands are shaking. This causes Dabi to laugh—gentle, deep, melodic in a sense, carefree and raspy. “Oh, so you think you’re Mr. Funny Man, hm?” you challenge, though you don’t dare face him.

“I think I’m downright hilarious, baby.”

“Well, that makes one of us.”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

You swat a tea towel at him, which he quickly dodges with a grin, and you roll your eyes. “You aren’t giving up any time soon, are you?”

“Do I ever? Baby.”

“Point taken.”

Breakfast is eaten in comfortable silence—Dabi radiating a happiness you never thought possible, you soaking it all in with a sense of relief. He takes his time as he eats, as if he’s savoring every flavor crawling around his tongue, contemplative as his teeth shred his food to tiny pieces. You admire the sight of his furrowed brow and bright eyes as you sip on your tea, unsure of what to say and worried what you do want to say will scare him away. So rather than choke on the words sitting in the back of your throat, you take this opportunity to inspect his body. After all, it isn’t every day Dabi is comfortably shirtless, especially in the sun’s rays where all of his flaws are visible for anyone and everyone to see.

You spot the newer burns sitting close to his hips, not quite as wrathful as the older ones resting on his chest, but still containing a torment you don’t think you’ll ever understand firsthand (and you doubt he’d want you to). When he first began showing up at your doorstep and all you knew about him was he looked different than anyone else you knew, you used to tell yourself stories about his scars—how he got them, how painful they were, which ones are newer than the others, which ones were self-inflicted and which ones were done by a resentful hand, how they all come together for form a man who’s become a sort of expert when dealing with macabre things.

If it bothers him to have your attention so focused on things he tries so hard to hide, he’s never said anything about it. When he first noticed how fixated you were on his scars, he cupped your chin and tilted your head up, forcing you to look at his sapphires full of curiosity and hesitance.

“Little distracted there, doll,” he observed.

“Do they hurt?”

He blinked, unsure of what to make of your harmless tone. “Not really. If I get new ones, they hurt like a motherfucker, but I get used to it after a few days.”

“Are they hard to take care of?”

“No. I’ve been taking care of them for a while now so it’s not a big deal.”

Your fingers gently traced the staples on his collarbone, careful to not pluck at any, not a hint of disgust to be found on your angelic face. “Can you teach me how?”

He jolted back and immediately guarded himself behind walls high enough to reach the heavens. Suspicion clouded his eyes, laced through his tone and made his muscles more rigid. “Why?”

“So I can help you take care of them,” you replied, as if everything were really that simple, and Dabi swore he saw a flash of angel wings fluttering on your back.

Back in the present, Dabi watches your eyes fill with nostalgia, a small smile on your face as your fingers trace the rim of your mug. He thinks he can stare at you all day if you would allow him to. He thinks he could spend the rest of forever memorizing all of the expressions you make as you try to dissect mortality and why seraphic beings are so fascinated with it. He knows that eventually, sacrifices will have to be made and one of you will lose themself serving a god who doesn’t like those in love with vengeance while the other one tries to pluck their own eyes out so they may be blind to how much suffering they’ve caused. But, for now, he’s happy being the fool in love who flew too close to the sun.

“Little distracted there, baby,” he chuckles, gathering up your dishes and placing them in the sink. “Am I just that handsome?”

“You never did teach me how to help take care of them,” you reply with a somber tone.

The mug he’s holding nearly slips out of his hand when your words reach his ears. So you really were thinking about morality and all of its ugliness. He tries his hardest to keep his voice light, to not show how much he envies angels and how easy ignorance is for them. “They aren’t yours to take care of.”

“No, but I’d like to help.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Because I love you. There is it again, that goddamn sentence that always manages to stick itself to the roof of your mouth. You’re choking on it, trying to allow oxygen to flow through lungs that are turning inside out because you can’t seem to find the courage to say you love a sinner in a world that shuns blood and fire. Acid fills your throat as your lips try to form the words burning at your gums. I love you, I love you, I love you. Why is it so hard to say? Why is love such a scary thing even though it presents itself as a cure for everything wrong in the world? Why does your kitchen seem smaller than before? Why are there black spots dancing in front of your eyes? Why is Dabi so afraid of anything he can’t burn and why are you afraid of giving him a reason to leave?

“Because…?” he prompts you, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

You try to flash an easy smile at him, though you fear it may look strangled. “Because I don’t want you to bleed everywhere if you miss a spot.”

That certainly isn’t the answer he was expecting given the way a chuckle stutters out of his throat, but he finds himself laughing until he’s nearly bent at the waist and struggling to catch his breath. It’s a beautiful sound, one full of long-lost joy and too many cigarettes smoked under a full moon, one that cups your heart and kisses it tenderly. “Well, I don’t want to ruin any more furniture,” he hums. “Better teach ya’ the secrets to my staples and how to make this mug oh-so pretty.”

After dishes have been washed and food has been stored away, you usher Dabi back to the bathroom and pull out the first aid kit you’ve learned to keep handy. He guides you with a firm hand and soft voice, tells you how to properly disinfect the burns and where to place the staples so they hold everything together, teaches you how to keep your fingers from shaking and how to not wince whenever metal punctures flesh. Keeping someone from falling apart shouldn’t feel so intimate, but with every staple placed into taut skin a jolt of something warm, something precious, something so fragile you’re afraid if you acknowledge it it’ll fall apart, spreads across your chest and causes sunlight to pour out of your hands.

With every brush of your fingers, the sinner is slowly learning to admire sunrises and how they highlight all of the things he tries to hide in the night. It’s not an easy task, and he struggles to fight the urge to find solace in galaxies littered across the sky, but if it means he can admire your face under the rays then he’ll bear through it all. You’re so close to him—the closest you’ve been in weeks. He can see every eyelash, every pore, every bit of stardust swimming under your skin and all of the oceans running through your veins. His body might contain destruction, but yours contains creation—the secrets to all of the universes and how to create life out of pure love. And maybe it’s a bit of an oxymoron to have such opposing things crash together, but Dabi is not a simple man and he doesn’t like simple things.

“Can I tell you the other new things I’ve been trying?” he asks timidly.

You look up in a pair of frightened sapphires and nod slowly, shyly. “Yes.”

Long, slender fingers stop your hand from placing another staple into him, and rough lips kiss all of the suns in your palms. His voice shakes when he speaks, nearly as much as his soul does, but he still forces the words out. “I’ve been trying out this...thing. It’s pretty fuckin’ scary. To be honest, I never thought I’d try it. And to be even more honest, I thought it was too late for me to try it. I thought it came with an expiration date, y’know? Like those credit card offers you get in the mail that say some bullshit like, ‘This offer is only good for the next two weeks! Sign up now!’ But recently, I learned that now is the perfect time to try it.”

“And what is it?”

The air is filled with anticipation, with words that have sat in throats for far too long, with feelings that have been locked away in chests, with pasts that have refused to die, with futures that may never live, with closets overfilling with skeletons. It’s suffocating, terrifying, absolutely world-shattering. But with your gift of creation, Dabi can destroy as much as he wants without worrying about leaving any new nasty scars on planets. He’s free to be himself, to unleash as much fire as he wants, and you’ll be right behind him, sweeping up ashes and leaving life in their wake.

“Love.”

Once the word drips from his tongue and lands right on your chest, the world stops turning. Stars can no longer be found and the moon buried itself in a black hole and oceans stop their waves. Angels have stopped fussing about forgiveness and gods are no longer worried about who deserves to be smited next. The entire universe and beyond has ceased to expand because all that matters in this moment is how Dabi’s heart is no longer caged and you’re no longer afraid to play with fire.

Tears fill your eyes before you can stop them, and Dabi brushes his thumb across your eyelashes. “You love me.” It isn’t a question, and it certainly doesn’t need an answer, but he offers you one anyway.

“I love you, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to realize.”

If the sinner didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought he heard the angels begin to sing. But trivial things like sins and purity, heaven and hell, angels and demons, don’t matter because none of them could ever feel as freeing as loving you. He’s no longer bound by the past and all of its bloodshed, and he thinks it’s okay to forget it sometimes. His fingers shake as they brush tears away you didn’t even know you have shed, careful to not taint your divine skin with his infernal hands, a shy sort of smile on your lips as you pull his body closer to yours. He protests that you’ll get blood on your clothes, and you shush him by telling him you’ve always been fascinated with mortals anyway, and neither of you are sure who initiated it but your lips are slotting together and you remember why heaven never felt like home.

Before you could get lost in how good it feels to not have to worry about serving a vengeful god, Dabi picks you up and carries you to your bedroom, chest flush against yours and hearts beating in sync. He’s gentle as he lays you on your bed, careful to not disturb your wings and all of the feathers falling from your back. His fingers graze your thighs, and for a moment he fears he may be cast down to the deepest pits of hell before he’s able to worship you the way you deserve. But then, you pull his face down to yours and kiss him as if he hasn’t spent his entire life in search of his next big sin and, suddenly, hell is worth being dragged through as long as it means he gets to hold your hand.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips. “I love you, I love you, I fucking love you, angel.”

Shaky fingers trace his jawline as if he were going to crumble to desk any second. “I love you, too. It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay. Everything is okay.”

He didn’t even realize he had blood droplets welling in his eyes until you gently wiped them away, fingertips glistening with newly formed rubies and trembling as you try to get rid of any evidence of sadness. Rather than trying to voice all of the emotions crawling up his throat, he kisses the wet pads of your digits, a silent thank you for teaching him that even the most corrupt of souls can be saved. Cracked lips trace over soft skin, and though it serves as a reminder of the different worlds you serve, the villain can’t help but lose himself in all of the pretty little noises falling from your mouth. It’s hypnotizing how you can make something as simple as a few breathy moans sound like the same harps in the clouds he’s spent his entire life trying to run away from. He’s barely taken your shirt and pants off and you’re already heaving underneath him—the visual reassurance he needed to know that you’ve been waiting for this moment just as eagerly as he had. And right as he lowers his head towards your thighs to provide the relief you’ve both needed, you stop him short, trembling hand finding purchase in his snowy locks.

“Angel…?” Sapphires full of questions scan your face, but he waits for you to speak, waits for your explanation, waits for you. He’s spent his entire life waiting for someone—something—like you, what’s a few more seconds?

You look hesitant—eyes darting around the room, incisors digging into your lower lip, heart thumping in the hollow in your throat—and, if Dabi didn’t know any better, scared. “I...uh...I’m unprepared.”

He blinks up at you. “I’m not following. What do you mean ‘unprepared’? No condoms? I’m fairly certain I’ve fried all of my swimmers so there’s a very small chance you’ll get knocked up, and I promise you no one has touched me in years so there’s no risk of any infections. There’s always Plan B too if I still have a few stubborn lil’ guys desperate to create a crotch goblin and—”

“No,” you cut him off, the heels of your hands digging into your eyes. “I haven’t...y’know...taken care of things down south in a while…”

A laugh bubbles up his throat once he realizes what your implications are. You haven’t shaved. He’s covered in nightmarish scars and staples, lanky body trying to destroy itself every second he’s alive, and you’re worried about some body hair? It almost pains him to think that you’re so self-conscious of something so miniscule, so human, so mundane it doesn’t even deserve a second thought. Who turned you away for keeping one of your temporal traits? Who shunned you for wanting to be mortal?

“Angel,” he breathes between chuckles, his knuckles brushing against your cheek and pulling your hands away from your face. “Have you looked at me at all? Like, really looked at me?”

You meekly nod.

“Then you’ll know that I’m the last person to give a fuck about some hair. Hell, I can’t even grow my own body hair because it’s all burned to shit. Your body hair is a part of you, therefore, I love it. I don’t care if you grow it, shave it, wax it, whatever. That’s your choice. So don’t be so ashamed of it, yeah? If you can look past my fuckin’ terrifying scars, I can look past a few hairs, okay?”

Rough fingers trace a soft cheek, and you find yourself nodding again, spreading your legs and allowing him access to the place he craves to be most. You’re completely and utterly intoxicating looking down at him through unshed crystals, fingers playing with the strands of his hairs while he tries to memorize how you look in this exact moment because he’s sure this is the closest to heaven he’ll ever get. He’s tender as he traces your soaking slit with his calloused digit, careful to not rush you nor taint you with the impermanence of humanity. A bit of stardust falls out of your mouth when you moan out his name, and he’s disappointed in himself for not bringing a mason jar so he may keep all of your celestial beauty on a shelf as a reminder that not everything is as ugly as he is. Still, he considers himself the luckiest mortal to ever grace this earth to see you wriggling underneath him, see how your mouth goes slack when his finger brushes against your swollen clit, hear how soft your pleas for more are, to know that even the holiest of angels are capable of a little sin.

“What’s that, baby?” he coos down at you, fingers never leaving the apex of your thighs.

The mewl you let out is cut short by a whimper as he drags his fingers down your fluttering hole, gathering up all of your juices and licking them clean, sapphires never leaving your face. It’s the most erotic thing you’ve been blessed enough to see, so fucking sexy and world-shattering as he brings his hand down to grind his palm against your throbbing heat. Lowering his body over yours, he nips at the sensitive shell of your ear, licking and sucking on the afflicted skin until you’re bucking your hips against his hand.

“S’matter, sweetheart?” he asks with feigned sympathy. “Can’t handle a little teasing?”

But, oh god, if only you knew how he’s barely hanging on. This last shred of control he’s somehow maintained is about to burst at the seams, tear his world to shreds until all he knows is you and all of your feathers and glittering halo. He’s a mere mortal who somehow found a way to break into heaven, and he’s about to lose himself amongst all of the clouds if he lets go. He can’t, not yet, not when he’s still unsure if you love him as much as he needs you, not when he’s afraid of you regretting having an affair with ephemeral beings. You deserve better than him, he’s sure of it, but you’re looking up at him with eyes full of stars and wonder and he can’t stop himself from breaking down his own walls he’s spent a lifetime building up.

Trembling hands grab at his neck, his hair, anything they can grasp to pull him closer, closer, closer. You want him, you need him, all of him, every last scar, every little staple, every tear he had shed before crying became impossible, every blood-curdling scream that has left his throat, every word that has dripped from his tongue, every insecurity that haunts his heart, everything. You need Dabi, you need Touya Todoroki, you need the man you found facedown in an alleyway, you need the man who shattered your soul and furniture, you need the man who came back and pieced them both back together. You need him, and he’s never been more sure of it than in this moment.

“I don’t think you’ll ever realize how beautiful you are,” he whispers, breath hot against your cool skin.

But before you can reply, his tongue is running along your folds and his hands are intensely gripping your hips and, oh my god, you swear you see stars on your ceiling. He drags his tongue across your pussy like a starved man, moaning and panting in sync with every noise that falls from your chest, determined to make you cum, desperate to earn every ounce of praise you’ve ever given him. Sapphires clouded with lust and love gaze up at you as a hot mouth toys with your desire, and you’re certain this is what it’s like to be worshiped in the best way possible. You brush your thumb against his cheek, a signal that he’s so good, the best possible devotee and all of his acts of worship won’t go in vain.

“F-F-Fuck,” you mewl, and earn a groan from him in return, the verberations hitting your pussy and causing supernovas to explode behind your eyes. “Oh, please, just like that! You’re so good, Dabi, so fucking good!”

His index finger replaces his tongue, languid strokes against your sopping heat as he tries to catch his breath. “Goddammit, you’re perfect.” His voice is somewhere between a moan and a whine, syllables catching in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he attempts to swallow down all of the words flooding his esophagus. “You’re so fucking perfect for me and I’m so in love with you it hurts.” He’s in awe, completely and utterly in shock that such an innocent creature—one with stars in their skin and oceans in their veins and all of the secrets to love and life trapped between their flower-filled lungs—can look at him with such…adoration. Passion, trust, tenderness, bliss—they’re all there, swimming in your irises, dancing across your face, beating in your chest.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

And it isn’t out of pity. He isn’t some sick stray dog you found and nursed back to health and fell in love with along the way. You love him as if you had no other choice to, as if your heart would explode without him, as if the world would stop turning if he left. And, god, does he love you. He loves you like Icarus loved the sun—dangerously, self-destructive and self-aware, knowing he’ll never be worthy but still determined to be close with you at least once during this lifetime.

“I love you,” he murmurs again, fingers finding your cunt and mouth attaching itself to your clit again.

He’s a starved animal, deprived of love and selfishly taking as much as he can now that he’s in a home full of it. But there’s not a damn thing selfish about the way he loves you, about the way he circles his tongue around your clit, about the way hs dips his slender fingers into your throbbing heat and grazes your gummy walls, about how his other hand is touching as much of your soft skin as he can—your breasts, your nipples, your hips, the swell of your ass, your legs, just everything, everything, everything, so he knows what dedication feels like.

Bony hips rut against your mattress in a desperate search for some form of relief, but he can’t stop himself from devouring every little piece of you until your halo falls off and you’re free from the clutches of a cruel god. You were never truly happy amongst the clouds, were you? Always forced to be something you weren’t, forced to shun anyone who was less than perfect, forced to convert anyone who didn’t believe.

But now, in this moment, with the very same face you were taught to fear is buried between your legs, when you’re stripped down to the bone and all of your galaxies are setting the room alight, when your soul is naked and free to be handled by even the most scarred of hands… You’ve never felt more free.

Your fingers pull on his wintry locks in an attempt to bring him closer to you, closer to heaven and all of its promises of healing. “I—” Dabi cuts your whines off by flattening his tongue against your clit, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves and pumping his fingers faster. “F-Fuck…! I’m so close! Wan’ cum, please, wan’ cum so badly!”

You’re barely hanging on. Flashes of gold dance in front of your eyes and you’re almost certain it’s a part of your halo falling, but who needs angels when the sinner right between your legs is the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen? He’s quivering—so overwhelmed with the trust you’ve given a man with bloodied hands to not taint your precious body that he can’t help but try to give you every ounce of reassurance that yes, he is trustworthy! He’s worthy! Even with scarlet stains on ivory skin and graveyards full of regrets, he’s been deemed worthy of one of heaven’s most pure angels.

The fifth time you call Dabi by his name, he’s ready to completely throw away his previous life in favor of everything holy and pure.

Your thighs are shaking around his head, hands tangling themselves in his hair and pulling for dear life, and he knows you’re so, so close to that final push that will permanently brand you a fellow sinner.

“Tell me how much you need it, angel,” he all but pleads against your pussy, the pace of his fingers becoming faster and sloppy, desperate, haphazard circles being drawn into your clit and hungry teeth nipping at your flesh. “Tell me how much you need me. Oh my fucking god, baby, please tell me how much you need it. I need to hear it. I need it, I need you.”

“Touya, I need you,” you cry out. It’s a demand—give me all of you and let me love every piece. It’s a plea—love me as much as I love you and don’t ever leave my side. It’s a promise—I’ll wash every wound for you if it means I get to be close to you. It’s everything Dabi could have ever wished for and more—an angel finally allowing themself to be free of their divine restraints in order to love the very same thing that might kill them. “Oh, fuck, I need you. I need you, I need you, I need you.”

You love him, you love him, you love him.

His ears are filled with your prayers and his mouth is full of your ambrosia and his chest is full of all of the suns you’ve saved for him, and, for a moment, he thinks he’d be okay if he died right now. Your whimpers are intoxicating, the very same harm that tempts every sinner with a tainted soul. The pleasure that has been rumbling and knotting deep within your gut finally snaps with a few licks to your clit and his knuckles brushing against your slick walls, and you’re sure that you’ve officially lost your heavenly status. It’s worth it. It’s all worth seeing Dabi looking up at you with his hypnotizing topazes and smile that would make God himself weep.

Unsteady hands grab at his sharp face, heavenly fingers swiping away the rubies that have begun to cascade down his cheeks and splash on the bed sheets, a wobbly smile on cracked lips.

“You’re crying,” you observe, tender as you try to pull him close to you. “Are you okay?”

But rather than answer you, Dabi takes both of your wrists in one of his hands and delicately pins them over your head, his other hand tracing your body with feather-light touches. He’s measured with his ministrations, hesitant, careful to keep all of the flaws trapped in his bones away from you and all of the galaxies in yours.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” The rubies are still falling from his topazes and all you can think of is how terribly wrong he is because he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Not the clouds in the sky, not the other angels fleeting around carelessly, not the supernovas you see every night, not the sunrises you see every morning. Nothing could measure up to how painfully beautiful it is watching Dabi finally accepting the love you’ve been trying to offer him for what feels like a lifetime.

“You’re gorgeous,” you manage to reply, voice and heart wobbly. “You’re handsome and beautiful and—”

Rough lips slotting against yours cuts you off, calloused fingers cupping your face, and when he finally releases his hold on you, you wrap your arms around his neck. He’s shaking like a lost child, salty tears and copper mixing with your hungry kisses and clashing against greedy tongues. Your chests heave together as sobs wrack both of your bodies, so desperate to finally be together after heaven was so determined to keep you separated. Fumbling hands rip the towel that clung to his hips off, and he sinks himself into you, his hips stuttering with every centimeter he pushes through.

The sixth time you call Dabi by his name, he understands why generations of men have gone to war to feel a fraction of what he’s drowning in—earth-shattering, skin-searing, sanity-robbing fulfillment.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head, stars exploding under your skin, you dig your fingernails into his back as he snaps his hips against yours. He’s lost in you and all of your healing touches, all of the prayers echoing in your chest, all of the feathers falling down your back and glitter falling down your face. He’s completely and utterly in love with the saint underneath him, and he silently vows to protect you until his dying breath.

“A-Angel,” he groans, his pace sloppy as he tries to chase the high only you can provide him. “Oh, f-fuck, you feel so fucking good. You’re so good to me. So goddamn perfect. I love you so fucking much. Please, don’t leave me.”

Somehow, some way, you manage to find your voice and sob, “I love you, Touya, love you more than anything! ‘M not going anywhere, I promise.”

The seventh time you call Dabi by his name, he allows the past to die and begins to set up a home for the future.

His hips stutter when the sound of his name falls on his ears, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck to bring your chest flush against his. “Say it again,” he pleads. “Say my name again. Just like that, baby, say it again.”

“Touya!”

The eighth time you call Dabi by his name, he swears he sees a flash of golden gates.

He kisses the hollow of your throat, watching the way your pulse skyrockets at his touch. “Again.”

“Touya!”

The ninth time you call Dabi by his name, he starts to feel galaxies form under his own skin, and it’s then he knows his sins have been forgiven.

He’s drunk on purity and innocence and forgiveness—all of the things he’s been denied his entire life but has found waiting for him in your ribcage. “Again.”

“Touya!”

And though he knows he’s just a greedy man who was lucky enough to catch the attention of God's greatest servant, he thinks he might be able to sit in heaven with you. He hopes, for just a moment, he might be able to see all of the golden gates and hear all of the harps that have haunted his dreams. His soul is still tainted with broken promises and broken families, but laying right underneath him, with the secret to healing and the key to salvation in their palm, is the very definition of love and everything right in the world.

And hovering right above you, with all of his passion and determination, with all of his flaws put on display for anyone to scrutinize, is a reminder of how beautiful and brave it is to be human in a world that only praises heavens. His cock brushes against your cervix, his lips kiss every inch of skin they can touch, his hands are buried in his hair, his voice is rough with desire and need, and nothing in heaven could ever be as breath-taking as Touya Todoroki.

“Oh my fucking god,” he moans against your skin. “I love you, angel. I need you.”

Lost in love and all of its intricacies, you whine and buck your hips up in sync with his, grinding your clit against his pelvis and sobbing at the galaxies you both are creating. Your own heaven to get lost in, where gods can’t spy and angels can’t judge. Where forgiveness is commonplace and greed is acceptable. Where family is who you choose it to be and love isn’t a tool for manipulation. Where everything is simple and pure and right.

And although Dabi is not a simple man and does not like simple things, Touya is learning that simplicity holds its own beauty worthy of loving.

The tenth time you call Dabi by his name, he’s ready to allow himself to be loved without any attachments, any suspicions, any ill will—the past, along with Dabi, have finally laid to rest.

“I love you, Touya,” you cry out, and he’s sure that it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “I love you so much!”

You’re close to coming undone—he can feel how much your pussy is clamping down on him and how your voice becomes more and more distorted by hiccups and sobs. He just needs a little more, just a little more to add the finishing touches to your heaven and build a throne out of gold. Just a little more, just so he can relish in how sweet forgiveness tastes and how good it feels to no longer bear the burden of corruption.

“I love you too,” he whispers into your hair. “I love you more than anything in this world.”

His thrusts are becoming sloppier and sloppier with each passing minute, and he knows he’s only a few pumps away from spilling over. Cupping your face with his hands, he uses his thumb to brush away the tears streaming down your cheek and slots his lips against yours in a moment of heated passion.

“Cum, angel, cum for me,” he pleads, angling his cock brushes against scared places in you. “Cum for me, cum with me, just cum, baby, cum.”

Who would’ve known the creation of a new heaven could feel so sinful? Clutching his body to yours as much as you can, you cry out his name followed by a string of curses as your pussy milks him for every last drop he has. His bliss follows right after yours, and he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself from groaning too loudly so as to not drown out your melodic cries. Visions of gold and white and purity flash before his eyes as cock throbs inside of you.

His body goes limp on top of yours, breath shaky and bloody stars falling from his eyes. He thinks he can feel your fingers running through his hair, but he’s so high on simplicity and absolution he can’t seem to feel anything except your heart beating against his. Tender lips press against his sweaty temple, and he buries his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles after a beat of silence. “For everything. I should’ve realized sooner. I…I should’ve been stronger.”

Delicately, you bring his face out of its hiding space to press your forehead against yours, examining the regret and hesitance dancing inside sapphire. “All that matters,” you whisper “is that you did realize. I’ll be your strength if you’re feeling weak. I’ll be your shoulder to cry on. There’s nothing to worry about. All is forgiven.”

And for the very first time in his life, Touya no longer feels like a sinner forced to bear the wrongdoings of a greedy man. He no longer feels like the product of selfishness and vanity gone awry. He no longer feels like a family secret buried in the backyard never to be spoken of or acknowledged.

Touya Todoroki feels like a man with his entire life ahead of him, an angel by his side and a heaven to come home to, and that, he thinks, is more than anyone with a past such as his can hope for.

#❀.mine #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x reader #touya x reader #todoroki x reader #touya todoroki smut #touya todoroki x you #toya todoroki x reader #toya todoroki x you #toya todoroki smut #dabi smut

[dollypopup]

"Colin didn't do enough to earn/deserve Penelope!"

but that's the rub, isn't it? he didn't have to. that's why people are so mad. He didn't have to, and he never had to

Because what this season proves is that love isn't about what we deserve. That love cannot be earned. Viewing love in such light makes it conditional- a matter of transaction. That if we simply do enough, if we humble ourselves, if we are ground down to humility, surely we will be cared for. That love can be a matter of groveling, or suffering, is antithetical to what it truly is. It is such an incredibly puritanical, highly Catholic perspective on it. That Colin has fallen from grace with what he said at the end of Season 2, and thus must now repent. Must have adequate penance.

Who determines what would have been enough, in such circumstances? What would be enough from such a puritanical viewpoint to garner forgiveness? When Colin had history of being soft and tender with Penelope- writing her letters, complimenting her, finding her in ballrooms, laughing at her jokes and making her laugh in turn, defending her- would it truly appease us to have the shape of their lovestory form around the skin of suffering? Of coming to hands and knees in a plead for mercy?

No.

Penelope informs that she's hurt by his comments, and Colin sought to soothe that pain without her demanding it of him. That is love. Penelope reveals the ache of being unwanted and how it affects her self worth, and Colin says 'I will help you see yourself the way I see you', because he has always found her wonderful. That is love. Colin comes to Penelope and reveals that he appreciates her, that he does not want to lose her, and requests a chance to prove that, and she not only accepts, but finds relief in doing so. That's love. Penelope feels braver because Colin thinks she already is. That's love. Colin feels unseen but Penelope sees him. That's love. Penelope asks Colin to kiss her with no expectations of more, and he tenderly touches her face and dreams and dreams and dreams of that moment where she put her heart in his hands. That's love. Colin runs after her carriage and has no idea she harbors affection for him when he spills his own heart open, asking her to choose him, and when she says they're friends, he backs off. That's love. Penelope says she wants to be more than friends, and they fall headfirst into each other. That's love. Colin asks Penelope for her permission to provide pleasure for her, and in doing so, finds pleasure himself. That's love, that's love, that's love.

It has never been about 'deserving'. It has only ever been about opening themselves up to the possibility. Colin and Penelope said: I know you're scared, I know it's scary, but it's worth it. I adore you. Take my hand. Stand with me in corners and have a good time. Crack silly jokes with me. Let's eat cake. Walk with me. Talk to me of matters so foolish, it would make you blush to do so with someone else, I want to listen. I accept you. I see you. Love is not owed, earned- but given. Shared freely. Without expectation. Without condition. With an open hand and heart.

They said: You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

Nicola was right. Season 3 is about romance.

#polin #bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton season 3 #listen to me- LISTEN #their love story means so so much to me #and with the rise in puritanism in our culture and society it just makes me so grateful they didn't go there #they gave us a soft and tender love story #they made us swoon and smile and to the people who still want groveling and suffering: i'm sorry to you #because that's drama- not romance #and at the end of the day i fell for this couple because they were one another's ride or die #they looked each other in the eye and said 'this too- all of it- all of you' and i hope all of us can have that kind of love #not sorry for crying in the club (the club is the polin tag) #this season was for us hopeless romantics and the poets and it has DELIVERED

[freyaphoria]

Hello i was wondering can you do a yandere maknae line reaction to their s/o slowly starts showing them affection

I love your works!

Hello and thank you! I really like yandere Ateez. I hope you like it! ♡

Yandere Ateez: When their s/o starts showing affection

(Maknae Line)

tw: Nightmare, chains

San

"How many times do I have to tell you not to get the foam in your eyes in the bath? Be careful baby." You were rubbing your eyes as he slowly rinsed your hair. He usually wouldn't let you take a bath alone, but since you've been behaving well lately, he let you take a bath alone today. But when you got foam in your eyes and screamed, he came to you and helped you wash your hair.

Actually it's not that bad. There is someone who loves you and constantly cares about you. He may have taken away your freedom, but he still loves you. You thought as the hot water flowed over your body.

You ran your hand through San's hair as thoughts floated through your mind. He is very handsome. You began to gently caress his hair. San froze at your action. Were you finally starting to like him? Had all his hard work finally worked? "Baby, what's wrong?" You were suddenly startled by his question and took your hand out of his hair. "sorry..." San's heart ached by your weak words. He held your hands and kissed them, then put them back in his hair. "No baby, don't ever take your hands out of my hair."

Mingi

You woke up from your nightmare, startled by the sound of the basement door opening. You were drenched in sweat and shaking. This dream was like no other dream you've ever had. It was so realistic and sickening.

Mingi approached you in panic. "Honey, are you okay? What's wrong? What happened?" You couldn't put the words together. You just wanted someone to be with you and hold you. You tried to reach for him as much as the chains on your wrists would allow. You couldn't exactly touch him, but you looked at his face with your arms open. "Huh? What do you want? Are you thirsty?" You pulled the chains a little more, as if you could reach him if you pulled harder. "I'm sorry honey, you know I can't take them off." You were still shaking and Mingi didn't understand what you wanted.

You took a deep breath and put all your dignity aside. "Hug. I just want a hug." Mingi looked at your hands, although he was a little suspicious. When he couldn't see anything sharp or would harm him, he held your hands gently and you pulled him towards you. You thought he was cozy. He was very warm and clean compared to the cold and dirty basement.

His heart fluttered; It was the first time he felt such a feeling. It was as if he felt the excitement of a mother when her child kissed her for the first time.

Wooyoung

You must have been crazy. You must be out of your mind if you have feelings for this man. But now, you were watching him while he fell asleep in the movie you were watching and his head was on your shoulder. Or you thought he was sleeping. He would never leave you on your own without his control. He was just testing you.

You've never looked at his facial features so carefully. To tell the truth, he was very handsome. Too handsome. Then you looked at the chain on your left wrist and the chain connecting to his right wrist. Would you like him if you hadn't met him this way? If he approached you normally, would you give him a chance? You probably would. But he forced you to be his. There was no need for that, If he had said just go out with me, you would.

You take your eyes away from the chain that held each other's wrists together and let him know if you try to ran away, and bringing them back to his face. The mole under his left eye caught your attention and you gently caressed it with your free hand.

He woke up with a chuckle and looked at you with a big smile on his face. He couldn't believe that you were now caressing his mole with the same hand you used to slap him with. "Like what you see?" You quickly pulled your hand away, but he held it and placed it back on his cheek. "Let's stay like this a little longer, doll."

Jongho

You were painting your new room together to celebrate finally getting out of the basement. After about 6 months, he finally gave you a proper room of your own after making sure he had brainwashed you enough. He even let you choose the color of the paint.

You took the brush and dipped it into the paint can. Once you had enough paint, you applied it to the wall carefully. It seemed difficult at first, but since you were working together, you were almost done with the entire room. You were both lost in thought, silently painting the fine details. The silence felt like therapy, but you felt like you had to thank him.

You were excited about your new life. A room that sees light, is clean and feels like home... You jumped with joy and hug him. "Thank you!" Jongho wasn't used to this act of yours, the way you behave when he first kidnapped you brought you to your new home was very different now. Usually you would yell at him and throw things at him, telling him to let you go. Now you were saying thank you and hugging him. Jongho's heart fluttered with love. "You're welcome, my pretty girl."

a/n: hi again! First of all, thank you very much for 100 followers! Your feedback is very important for me to improve myself. Please let me know if you have any suggestions. I'm not very satisfied with this, but I hope you like it. Love u♡

#ateez #ateez yandere #yandere ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #choi jongho x reader #song mingi x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #choi san x reader #kpop yandere #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #yandere kpop

[bobbin-buckley]

Cairo Sweet Comfort Headcanons

Cairo Sweet x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, comfort, Cairo being manipulative, mentions of writing porn, R being sad, Mr. Miller

Requested

(This kinda became more of a Drabble than headcanons but it is a list of how she comforts reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cairo may have always been mean. Mean to anyone infact. But she never tries to be mean to you.

-For the longest time Cairo denied her feelings for you, saying they were wrong and that she was confused.

-Her feelings for you wouldn’t go away though, she pushed you away at a young age and you came back with a massive glow up. She fell even harder. Her new best friend Winnie tells her maybe you are the one instead of her professor, Mr. Miller.

-Ever since Mr. Miller brought up a madman’s love she’s been fascinated by how he described it. She felt things for him then. Winnie urged it on with how a older man’s pride is his sex, how he takes virginity well. It corrupted Cairo.

-You on the other hand, we’re jealous and disgusted at this. Irritated some old guy could manage to make her be so obsessed. You’re irritants caught Cairo’s eye, seeing how you’d challenge Miller during his lectures or how you’d send glares at him.

-Besides this. After all this, Cairo was certainly confused. She came to you, crying and claimed she wanted you. She needed you after Miller rejected her. Even if she lied to you and maybe even used you, you still took her back into your arms.

-Along the lines of becoming girlfriends, she’s been good about giving you the affection you should receive in a relationship. She tries to make you feel loved and cared for while you do the same for her

-There are moments where she just can’t take it anymore and bursts her anger out at you, calling you names, insulting you, making you feel bad about being with her

-It breaks your heart when she acts like this, though you let it slide most days when she does apologize. Which is rare…sadly

-As you being a wonderful girlfriend you’re always there for her. Giving her the chance to be in your open arms if she needs it, and she does come to you sometimes.

-She has a hard time opening up, too. She’s never really talked about herself, how she likes life, how she feels mentally and physically, or about her parents. Yet she’s opened that up to someone who didn’t even want her, Miller of all people. It made you rage.

-Although you gave Cairo time to talk to you, respected what was meant to be kept hidden. One thing that bothered you is that she’d always be in that journal of hers, writing god knows what. More porn? More fantasies with Miller? Talking shit about you? You never know and are afraid to ask

-Cairo is also a scary person. She’s always terrified you, even as a kid. Her threats always become real, she’s incredibly manipulative and can destroy you in a week. You prefer to keep off her bad side.

-One time you angered her so much she combusted and threatens she’d harm you. Physically too. It never happened luckily, that just says how much she cares for you without you even knowing it.

-And Cairo, could never ever ever harm you physically. Mentally, yeah probably. She can be selfish at times. But she never will hurt you physically, it would break her heart if she ever laid a hand on you.

-Let’s get into that category. If Cairo ever did harm you physically, wether it was a slap across the face, a shove or maybe even a punch. She’d have so much regret right after.

-There was a time she wasn’t having it. She slapped you, and dear god did it hurt. Left a red mark on your left cheek, making you hold back tears because you didn’t want to seem like a baby in front of her.

-“Wait, my love I didn’t mean it. I swear I didn’t mean it.” She’d say immediately after she’d regret it. Kissing you on the head if you let her, caressing the spot she smacked gently. She’s lay down with you and kiss you all over, explaining why she did that.

-She wouldn’t let harming you slide by her, ever.

-Now Mentally. It hurts, it honestly hurts worse being hurt on the inside rather than the outside sometimes. With Cairo having that ability to make someone so upset, it can hurt real bad. She broke Winnie’s heart, real bad. And if she did it to you it’d take time for her to regret it, depending on what you did or how she feels

-When you we’re both younger, she pushed you away because of her parents. They were strict, and when they had a fight with your parents they immediately blocked you out. But that didn’t stop you from seeing Cairo

-You went to her house, sneaking into her bedroom. She was found sobbing while trying to sleep, and it was late at night:

“Cairo?” You spoke above a whisper. She recognized your voice, sitting up as she looked over at you in shock. “What’re you doing here? My parents told you to stay away.” She cried, hiding her face. “And don’t look at me, I look awful.”

Cairo wasn’t an ugly crier at all, she just hated crying in front of people. “Cai, just because you’re parents push me away doesn’t mean I won’t stop seeing you.”

“Yeah well maybe that’s what’s best.”

Those words hit you like a truck going eighty miles per hour. Cairo never talked at you like that before, especially basically telling you to leave her. “But Cai, I can’t leave you. You’re my best friend, I love you.” You confessed. Though those words meant nothing to her then.

They do now

-Every time Cairo sees you with those glistening eyes, filled with tears she always thinks of that night. That night she told you to leave. To never come back. And it hurt her when you listened, but she never came to you when it hurt.

-Because that’s who she is, how she’s always been. She hated sharing her feelings, the only way she would share her feelings, is by making people suffer with her. That’s how she did it with Winnie, Mr. Miller. You.

“I don’t understand, why can’t you just talk to me?” You asked, standing in the middle of her bedroom.

“Because I don’t want you to know. It’s something I keep to myself.” She replied, her left hand holding her journal, and the other with a pen.

“But why? You can talk to me, if you don’t talk to me maybe counseling is better off to help you.” She scoffed at your words, she’d rather vent to a beetle than a therapist or a counselor.

“I write in my journal, that’s where my story goes.” Well that makes you relieved. She isn’t talking shit about you or writing about her fantasies with someone else.

“I understand, but I’m here for you. We’ve been together for six months, and I am still waiting to hear your voice even if it sounds broken when you speak.”

Cairo though to herself. She knew how much she was hurting you mentally by not talking to you, telling you she was either okay or not okay.

“If you can at least tell me if you are okay or not okay. That’s fine.” You pause, “I love you, Cairo. You’re the moon to my Saturn.” Tears were running down your face. “And it hurts, hurts knowing how I think I’m not good enough for you. If it’s my fault that you’re scared. I’m scared too, Cai.”

It was silent, but only for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” Cairo sobbed, “I just don’t want to push you away. I love you too, I love you so much. And all the bad things I’ve done, have made me stop talking about them or my problems.”

-That very day Cairo opened up to you. You held her the entire time, comforting her, rubbing her back, kissing her tears away. Telling her it’s okay to not be okay. She talked to you slowly about things, only opening so much and you kept that respect.

-You gave her one big kiss after each session. You were her lover, her therapist, her best friend, her girlfriend, her future wife, her everything. She loves you. But sometimes love is hard to show when you’ve had a broken heart for quite some time.

-Most nights were kept peaceful, sad, private and loving. Wether it’d end with promise kisses or making love.

-Her comfort is nothing but a song that started as a melody and become stronger as you promise to be there for her. As well as she’d return it.

-Maybe replace that all with a madwoman’s love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I really hope this is good because I felt like I did fast, I even reread it over and over to make sure I got everything I could possibly put in 😭

But I was also emotional making this, I got way to into it

I also had more time than I thought I would lmao

@btbubuini

#jenna ortega #cairo sweet #jenna ortega x fem!reader #millers girl #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet x female reader #wlw #angst with a happy ending

[inawickedlittletown]

Aftermath - 7x09 Coda

Knock. Knock. 

Tommy looked towards Evan. They had started the evening by cooking together, but after dinner, they had put on a movie. Evan had actually seen very few movies and Tommy was doing his best to rectify that especially since Tommy was a bit of a sucker for rom coms. You’ve Got Mail was on the screen and they weren’t even far in. 

Knock. Knock. 

Evan groaned. 

“Are you expecting anyone?” Tommy asked as they detangled themselves from each other. 

Evan shook his head, pressing pause on the remote. Tommy followed him to the door. 

Christopher stood on the other side. He looked awful. Eyes red, glasses askew, and lips turned down. He looked nothing like the kid that Tommy had last seen in Howie’s hospital room.

At first, Tommy was worried that Christopher had somehow gotten there on his own,  but just a bit behind him was Marisol. She didn’t look all that great either. 

“He wanted to come here,” Marisol said. Her voice was weak and small. “Least I could do.” 

Christopher didn’t even wait to be invited in, he just walked past Evan, barely glanced at him or Tommy. Tommy caught Evan’s eye and Evan gave a nod, so Tommy followed Christopher inside. He heard Evan talking to Marisol, but not all the words or even what she said back. 

Christopher had settled himself into Evan’s couch. He looked small, shoulders hunched over and his arms crossed. 

“Hey,” Tommy said gently. “Are you okay?” 

Christopher shook his head. No words.

“Do you need anything? A drink? Food? Blanket?”

No response. 

Tommy wasn’t used to kids. The one time he’d met Chris before that time at the hospital, it had been at Eddie’s house and Christopher had led that conversation by being interested in Tommy being a pilot and asking a bunch of questions. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened or why you’re here. I don’t need to know. But you’re safe here, okay?”

At that he got a nod. 

“Is it okay if I leave you here on your own for a few minutes?” 

Another nod. 

Evan was still at the door. He joined him and found Marisol still standing at the other side. She’d started to cry, big tears that rolled down her cheeks and that she was angrily wiping away. Her arms were wrapped around her middle. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, a sob breaking through. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Evan said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Do you want to come in? You shouldn’t be driving. Eddie would—”

She made a noise at Eddie’s name and Tommy winced. 

“Sorry,” Evan said, hand reaching out to Marisol except she stepped back. 

“Did you know?” she asked. 

Tommy could see Evan’s indecision. He could see how he shifted his weight as he gave a small nod. 

“I confronted him about it a few days ago,” Evan said. “Right after I found out.”

“She looks like his dead wife,” Marisol said and it came out strangled. 

“I know,” Evan said. 

She rubbed at her eyes. “How could — no…no, I can’t deal with this right now. Take care of Christopher.”

Tommy jumped forward. “Hey, I can drive you if you—”

She shook her head. “My brother’s picking me up. He should be here soon.” 

Marisol looked like she wanted to say something else, but she shook her head and then turned and left. They were left watching her go. 

“Chris?” Evan asked. 

“Is okay. Upset, but okay,” Tommy said. “Did everything blow up on Eddie?” 

“You could say that,” Evan said. “Marisol said they walked in and the doppelganger and Eddie were there. Chris thought it was his mom.”

Tommy felt his heart break. He could never fully understand Eddie’s grief — hoped he never would. When Evan had told him about Kim he hadn’t known how to react because it was just so out there and messy and insane. But to have it affect Christopher…well, that was something that Tommy could understand. His parents had disappointed him enough…he knew that disconnect between loving someone and feeling completely betrayed. 

“What now?” Tommy asked. 

“Well, first I’ll need you to text Eddie that Chris is here and that he’s staying the night.” Evan smiled a tight sad smile. “Next we give him somewhere to feel safe until he’s ready to talk to his dad.” 

“Of course he feels safe,” Tommy said. “He came to you.” 

Tommy pulled Evan into his arms and he felt Evan sigh against him, his arms coming around Tommy as well. He pulled back too soon, but with a new found determination and Tommy could only watch as his boyfriend headed towards Christopher and despite everything, he was warmed when Christopher wrapped his arms around Evan’s waist, head buried on Evan’s chest. 

#911 abc #christopher diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 fic #spoilers #911 spoilers #911 coda

[theodorenmyth]

Regrets.

Pairings : Lorenzo Berkshire x GN! Reader Summary : Lorenzo Berkshire, once confident in his choice to leave you for another, finds himself trapped in a web of regret and longing. Realizing his mistake, he is determined to win you back, even if it means facing the darkness he once embraced. A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) Warnings) : ANGST. mentions of cheating, trust issues, fluffy end tho Word count : 1.2k

The dungeons of Hogwarts had always been cloaked in an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional drip of water from the ancient stone walls. It was a place where secrets festered and shadows whispered, a fitting backdrop for the turmoil brewing within Lorenzo Berkshire.

He had chosen wrong. When he left you for another Slytherin, it felt like the right decision—ambition and cunning were prized in his house, and she had those in spades. Yet, her sharp edges had cut him deeper than he'd anticipated, leaving him yearning for the warmth and understanding he'd once found in you.

As he walked the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing softly, Lorenzo's thoughts were consumed by the memories of your time together. The way your laughter filled the empty spaces in his heart, how your touch grounded him when he felt the world spinning out of control. He had been a fool to let you go.

Reaching the familiar spot near the Potions classroom, he leaned against the cold stone wall, waiting for you. You often passed by here on your way to the library after dinner, a routine he had memorized during your time together. The minutes ticked by slowly, each second a reminder of the agony he'd inflicted on both of you.

Finally, you appeared, your figure illuminated by the flickering torchlight. Your eyes widened in surprise upon seeing him, but the softness he once adored was replaced by a steely resolve. It was a look that cut deeper than any curse.

"Enzo," you said, your voice betraying none of the emotion he hoped to hear. "What do you want?"

He straightened, pushing off the wall and stepping closer, though careful to keep a respectful distance. "I need to talk to you," he began, his voice tinged with desperation. "Please, just hear me out."

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. "Talk, then. But make it quick."

Taking a deep breath, Lorenzo plunged into his apology. "I was an idiot," he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I thought I knew what I wanted, but I was wrong. I hurt you, and I regret it more than anything. I miss you, and I'm so sorry."

Your expression remained impassive, though a flicker of something—pain, perhaps—crossed your eyes. "You made your choice, Lorenzo. You can't just come back and expect everything to be okay."

"I know," he replied, his voice breaking slightly. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I can't keep pretending I don't love you. I made a mistake, and I'll do anything to make it right."

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "You think an apology can fix this? You broke my heart, Lorenzo. Do you have any idea what that felt like?"

"I do," he whispered, his own heart clenching at the sight of your pain. "Because every day without you feels like torture. I see now how much you meant to me, how much I took you for granted."

Silence fell between you, thick and heavy. Lorenzo could see the internal struggle in your eyes, the battle between lingering affection and the hurt he had caused. He took a tentative step closer, his hand reaching out but stopping short of touching you.

"I don't expect you to take me back," he said softly. "But I need you to know that I'm sorry, and that I still love you. More than anything."

You looked away, your jaw clenched as you fought back tears. When you finally spoke, your voice was a whisper. "I loved you, Lorenzo. So much. But you shattered that trust. How can I believe you won't do it again?"

He swallowed hard, his own eyes stinging. "Because losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I can't promise I won't make mistakes, but I swear I'll spend every day trying to be worthy of you. Please, give me a chance to prove it."

The raw sincerity in his voice broke through your defenses, and a single tear rolled down your cheek. Lorenzo's heart ached to wipe it away, to comfort you like he once had. But he knew he had to wait, to let you decide.

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze with a vulnerability that took his breath away. "I need time, Lorenzo. Time to think, to heal. You can't just expect everything to go back to the way it was."

"I understand," he said, relief washing over him. It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here, waiting, whenever you're ready."

With a small nod, you turned and walked away, leaving Lorenzo standing in the shadows. He watched you go, hope flickering in his heart for the first time in months. It was a fragile hope, but it was enough to keep him going.

Days turned into weeks, each one a test of Lorenzo's resolve. He threw himself into his studies, determined to show you through actions rather than words that he was serious about changing. He avoided the girl he had left you for, her presence a constant reminder of his folly.

Every chance he got, he left small tokens of his affection for you—a note tucked into your favorite book in the library, a flower left on your desk in the common room. He never pressed, never pushed, respecting your need for space.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

One evening, as he was leaving the Great Hall, he spotted you sitting by the lake, the setting sun casting a golden glow around you. Heart pounding, he approached cautiously, unsure if his presence would be welcome.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked softly.

You glanced up, surprise flickering across your face before you nodded. "Sure."

He sat down beside you, the two of you watching the rippling water in silence. It was a comfortable silence, one that spoke of shared memories and unspoken words.

"I've been thinking," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "About us."

Lorenzo's heart skipped a beat. "And?"

"And I still care about you," you admitted, turning to look at him. "But I'm scared, Lorenzo. Scared of getting hurt again."

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "I understand. I can't promise I won't ever hurt you, but I can promise I'll never stop trying to be the person you deserve. I love you, more than anything."

You squeezed his hand, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I love you too, Enz. But this time, we take it slow. We rebuild what we lost."

Relief and joy flooded through him, and he nodded eagerly. "Slow is perfect. As long as I have you by my side, I can wait as long as it takes."

In that moment, under the fading light of the setting sun, the shadows of the past began to lift. Lorenzo knew it would be a long road to earning your full trust again, but he was ready for the journey. With you, he felt whole once more, and he vowed never to let you go again.

#slytherin boys imagine #slytherin boys #slytherin #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin x reader #harry potter x male reader #hp x male reader #male reader #harry potter #hp fic #x male y/n #soft slytherin boys #angst to fluff #angst #fluff #lorenzo berkshire x male reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #male y/n #x male reader #hp fanfic #hp #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter x reader #harry potter fandom #harry potter universe #theodorenmyth

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi! I really love your writing 💖

Can I request fluff with Eddie Munson x reader?

He has a big crush on her, but he's very shy. Also, he has never been known for affection with his friends, so they rarely even hugged.

But one time at a party, the reader realized he's a big cuddler while he's drunk.

Some time later, Eddie would love to cuddle with her again but he's too shy, so he pretends to be drunk and giggly again. 😅

Can we get a happy end, please? 🙏

Thank you so much! And aww, this is such a cute idea!

shy!eddie x extroverted!fem!reader

cw: mention of alcohol, both reader and Eddie are drunk

It was no secret that Eddie had a huge crush on you. Even though he was very shy, the heart eyes that would form in his eyes when he looked at you were so obvious to everyone. Even you. And you liked Eddie too. How could you not? He was always so sweet and caring and never failed to know what you needed.

You wanted to tell him that you felt the same way, but you felt like you should have let him take the reins. You hoped that he would eventually be comfortable enough around you to tell you the truth, but you had been hanging around him for six months and nothing. He wouldn’t even touch you which you knew was because of his trust issues and you were willing to help him through it.

You showed up to Steve’s party with the sole intention of finding Eddie. He had told you he was going to be there which you found odd since he didn’t really care for being around that many people at once. You had no idea what that was like, but you sympathized.

You grabbed a drink for yourself and made a beeline for the curly mop. He paused mid conversation and pulled you in for a tight hug which caught you off guard since that was very abnormal for him. He arms wrapped around your waist tightly, burying his face into your neck.

Turned out that Eddie just needed a few drinks in him to be down to cuddle. He held onto you the whole night, his face buried in your neck while he occasionally pressed kisses to it. You loved seeing that side of him. The physically affectionate side of him that had no probably holding onto you tight.

Although, you felt bad that he felt like he needed to get drunk in order to hug you. You hoped that he knew that he could hug you whenever he wanted and didn’t need to drink to do so. You guys were friends and despite his nervousness around you sometimes, you hoped that he knew that you’d be there for him no matter what.

After the party, Eddie found himself pretending to be drunk just to get cuddles from you. At first, you played along, but over time, you were getting tired of the act. You were going to finally tell him how to felt to finally put a stop to the madness. You thought that maybe if he knew that you felt the same way, he’d stop.

You both were lying on your bed and Eddie was acting like a fool once again. He was all giggly and mumbling in gibberish which were the telltale signs that he was faking. Enough was enough.

You pulled him into your arms and he snuggled into you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You ran your hand through his hair while pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I really like you,” you told him and he just snuggled further into you, letting out a contented sigh.

“I like you too.”

“No, Eddie,” you pulled his face away from your chest and forced him to look you in the eye. “I like you.” His eyes went wide and his mouth was agape at your words. He didn’t see that coming at all. “So you can stop pretending to be drunk just to cuddle me.”

“You knew about that huh?” He let out a nervous chuckle.

“I know everything,” you smiled. “So are you going to be my boyfriend or not?”

“Oh, I’m so going to be your boyfriend.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek then snuggled into your chest once again, the two of you falling asleep peacefully know that you were finally together after months of dreaming about it.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #shy!eddie munson #extroverted!reader #shy!eddie x extroverted!reader

[faithshouseofchaos]

He’s not as cold as you think— Hockey player!Kimi Raikkonen x reader

Part two

Fluff tooth rotting fluff

Word count 2k

Warnings— love sick Kimi Raikkonen

Over the days, weeks, and months that followed, Kimi and Y/n had grown closer and closer, their late-night conversations and shared moments having forged a strong bond between them. Despite the physical distance, they'd made a point of keeping in touch, regularly reaching out to each other to share their experiences and simply hear the other's voice. They learned each other's quirks and preferences, finding a deep sense of comfort in one another's presence, even if it was only through a screen.

Y/n had become Kimi's confidante, the person he could turn to when he faced the challenges that came with his career. He confided in her about games, his team, and the pressure of being a professional athlete. She, in turn, shared her dreams and aspirations with him, her voice filled with passion and determination. They found solace in each other, their conversations creating a sense of familiarity and companionship even when they were continents apart.

Through late-night texts and voice chats, they developed an intimate connection that transcended the physical distance. Kimi found himself looking forward to their interactions, his heart lifting each time he saw her name pop up on his phone. They shared moments of joy, sorrow, and everything in between, and with each conversation, their connection deepened until they had become inseparable.

Though they had never discussed the nature of their relationship, an unspoken understanding had settled between them. Kimi valued Y/n more than any of his casual hookups in the past, but he wondered if she felt the same way or if she simply enjoyed the connection for the company it offered.

Their friendship blossomed, with Kimi finding himself opening up in ways he never had before. Y/n's influence had softened some of his rougher edges, helping him to see the world from different perspectives. Despite the physical boundaries, their connection grew stronger, and the thought of being apart for extended periods left a hollow feeling in Kimi's chest. Each time he was on the road for a game or training, he found himself eagerly awaiting their calls, the sound of her voice bringing a sense of comfort and familiarity. They supported each other through highs and lows, their conversations often drifting into the early hours of the morning, neither wanting to hang up.

It Was the night before one of Kimi's away games. Despite the nerves and pressure weighing on him, he decided to call Y/n to ease his restless mind. Pressing her contact on his phone, he lifted the device to his ear, waiting for her to answer. After a few rings, Y/n's voice filled the line, the sound comforting and familiar. "Hey, Kimi," she greeted, a smile in her voice. Kimi's tense muscles relaxed slightly at the sound of her voice. "Hey, angel," he replied warmly, the endearment rolling off his tongue naturally.

Y/n's cheeks tinged pink at the nickname, a mixture of affection and contentment flooding her heart. "How are you feeling about the game tomorrow? Nervous?" she asked, genuine concern laced in her tone. Kimi let out a sigh into the receiver, his brows furrowing slightly. "A bit," he admitted, his usually composed demeanor slipping. "It's a big game, and I've been off my game lately. I just hope I can snap out of this rut and give my team my best performance."

Y/n leaned back, listening intently. "You've been through this before, Kimi," she reasoned, her voice gentle yet firm. “You've pulled yourself out of slumps like this before. And you've got the support of your team, including me. You're capable of greatness, and everyone knows it. Have faith in yourself, and I know you'll pull through.”

Kimi felt a warm surge of appreciation for her unwavering belief in him. Her words echoed in his ears, their sincerity sinking into his core. "Thank you, Y/n," he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. “Your belief in me means more than anything. I’m lucky to have you in my corner."

Y/n's heart fluttered at his words, touched by his vulnerability and sincerity. "You've always been a fierce competitor, Kimi," she replied affectionately. “I have no doubt you'll regain your form and make your team proud. Just remember, I'm here for you no matter what. You're not alone in this.”

The conversation continued, their words flowing naturally as they discussed the game, strategy, and anything else that came to mind. Kimi's anxieties began to melt away, replaced by a sense of reassurance and determination. The sound of Y/n's voice had a calming effect, her unwavering support reminding him of his strength and potential.

As the night wore on, their conversation eventually turned to more lighthearted topics, their laughter echoing through the line. Kimi found himself relaxing effortlessly, the weight on his shoulders slowly lifting. Y/n's presence had a way of grounding him, making him feel centered and at ease even amidst his worries.

As they prepared to hang up, Y/n reminded him, "Remember, Kimi, you're capable of greatness, and you have an entire team and a friend cheering you on. Kick some butt out there."

Kimi chuckled, appreciating her unwavering belief in him. "Thanks, angel," he replied warmly. "I won't let you down."

With that, the call ended, and Kimi was left with a renewed sense of purpose and confidence. The sound of Y/n's voice echoing in his mind, he drifted off to sleep, the night's conversation leaving him with a newfound sense of clarity and determination to give his all for the upcoming game. The next day, Kimi stepped onto the hockey rink, his usual reserved demeanor replaced by an air of quiet determination. Y/n's words had left an indelible mark on his mind, and he channeled all the emotions from their conversation into his gameplay.

As the game wore on, Kimi's performance evolved into something extraordinary. His focus was sharper, his moves more daring, and his teammates responded in kind. They moved in unison like a well-oiled machine, feeding off his newfound energy. The crowd roared with anticipation, sensing the shift in momentum. In the final minutes of the game, with the score tied, Kimi found himself in possession of the puck. His eyes scanned the rink, calculating his next move. The opposition defense closed in, but Kimi skillfully evaded them, maneuvering the puck with a grace that belied his size.

With a swift flick of his stick, he launched the puck towards the goal, watching it sail through the air with bated breath. Time seemed to stand still as the puck found its mark, nestling securely into the back of the net. The arena erupted in a symphony of cheers and wild applause, the home team victorious. As the final whistle blew and the game ended, Kimi found himself enveloped in a whirlwind of celebration and high-fives from his ecstatic teammates. The elation of the victory was infectious, and he couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh, the weight of his worries melting away. Amid the celebration, Kimi's thoughts turned to Y/n, the one person who had believed in him even when doubt had gnawed at his confidence. He couldn't wait to tell her all about the game and share in the excitement of the team's victory.

As the team made their way off the rink, Kimi was bombarded with congratulations and pats on the back from fans and reporters. The adrenaline coursing through his veins, he fielded question after question with a newfound confidence. His thoughts were filled with the joy of victory and the overwhelming desire to share this moment with Y/n.

He found a quiet corner backstage and dialed her number, anticipating her voice on the other end. After a few rings, Y/n's voice came through, her happiness evident even through the phone. "Kimi, I've been watching the game! You were incredible out there! Congratulations on the win," she beamed, pride dripping from every word. Kimi's heart leaped at the sound of her voice, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Thanks, angel," he replied affectionately. "It was a tough game, but the team pulled together and we got the win. I couldn't have done it without your support."

Y/n's cheeks flushed at the nickname, a soft giggle escaping her lips. "You know I'll always be there for you, Kimi," she assured him, a warmth in her voice. "You and your teammates played like a well-oiled machine. You all rocked that rink." Kimi's chest puffed out slightly at her compliment, his ego inflated by her words. "Yeah, we did, didn't we? I couldn't have asked for a better team. And to have you watching and cheering us on from the other end of the phone... It made all the difference."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," Y/n replied earnestly, her voice tinged with contentment. "You've worked so hard for this win, and you deserve every bit of it. You're an incredible player."

Kimi felt a surge of gratitude and warmth at her words. "Thanks, Y/n," he said, his voice laced with genuine sincerity. "Hearing you say that... It means everything to me. You've been the one constant source of encouragement and belief in me, even on my lowest days."

Y/n's heart fluttered at his words, her affection for him deepening. "You don't need to thank me," she replied softly. "I believe in you because you're worth believing in. You're more than just a talented player; you're a dedicated and hardworking individual who always strives for excellence. That's why I'll always be in your corner."

Kimi's chest swelled with emotions, a mix of affection, appreciation, and a growing longing to bridge the physical distance between them. "You know," he began hesitantly, his voice taking on a more intimate tone, "I wish you were here with me right now. I could use a real hug from my favorite angel."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat at his words, her heart skipping a beat. "I wish I was there too, Kimi," she admitted softly, her voice tinged with longing. "Being able to hold you and see your smile... it would make this moment perfect."

Kimi's fingers curled around his phone, his grip tightened slightly as he envisioned her in front of him, her arms wrapped around him. "I can almost feel your touch, angel," he said, his tone growing quieter. "And hearing your voice, it's like you're right here, sharing this triumph with me."

Y/n's eyes fluttered closed, her mind replaying his words over and over. "Kimi..." she whispered, her heart overflowing with emotion. "I'm right here, even if it's just through the phone. And I'll always be here, supporting you, cheering you on. You're an incredible person, and I'm so proud of you."

Kimi's heart swelled with an intoxicating mix of gratitude, contentment, and something more. "You mean the world to me, Y/n," he confessed, his voice a gentle rumble. Y/n's breath caught in her throat at his words, her own heart growing fuller with each syllable. "And you to me," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "No matter the distance, you've become an irreplaceable part of my life.”

As they continued to share their emotions and the joy of the victory, Kimi couldn't help but wonder if their connection went beyond friendship. Was it possible that Y/n felt the same depth of emotion that he did? As he delved into the realm of possibility, their conversation turned into a quiet promise, an unspoken agreement to explore the bounds of their connection. As the night wore on and their talk eventually drew to a close, Kimi's mind was abuzz with newfound possibilities. He hung up the phone, feeling a spark of hope ignite within him.

The thought of Y/n, his steadfast supporter and dear friend, possibly feeling the same way sent a thrill through his veins. For now, he had a team to celebrate with, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something new was blossoming between him and Y/n—a connection that went beyond friendship and had the potential to become something extraordinary.

Tagged — @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @67-angelofthelordme-67 @amatswimming @a-casual-romantic @alwayzbeenale @barcelonaloverf1life @badassturtle13 @bblouifford @bbtoni @charlesf1leclerc @clowngirlsstuff @crashingwavesofeuphoria @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @entr4p3 @embrosegraves @eugene-emt-roe @formulas-bitch @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @formulaal @hangmandruigandmav @hollie911 @ironcowboycopnickel @jeffs77 @kimiracing07 @lightdragonrayne @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @moss-on-tmblr @omgsuperstarg @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @raikkxz @reidsworld @strugglingyetvibing @starkwlkr @sweate-r-weathe-r @swifth0lic @toasttt11 @the-ghost-lovwr @tallrock35 @uluvjay @llando4norris @vellicora @venusisnothere

@charlesgirl16 @annie115 @0rrphiic I don’t know if yall read for Kimi or not I figured that I would tag yall anyways

#i love kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen #kimi räikkonën #kimi räikkönen #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi raikkonen x you #Kimi Raikkonen x oc #kimi raikkonen fluff #kimi raikkonen fic #kimi raikkonen one shot #Kimi Raikkonen f1 #f1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x you #f1 x y/n #formula one x y/n #formula one x oc #kr7

[magnificentstrawberryomen]

Indisposed (Noah Sebastian fanfiction) chapter four

18 +

Autors note: hello, i want to thank everyone for the likes, reblogs, and sweet comments on this story !! it fr makes me really happy to see, i appreciate it sm :’) also, does anyone wants to be in a taglist when I post a new chapter? let me know! x

—

chapter four

The next look he gives me looks like it’s made of pure adoration and affection, yet there is so much lust and warmth in them too. `I want you,´ he whispers, leaning in for another kiss. `I want you so bad,´ he mumbles against my lips after kissing them again.

`Then please take me,´ I whisper back, before kissing him warm and deeply. Noah pushes me back on my back again on my bed, and I run my fingers through his soft hair.

`Gladly,´ he says against my lips again. And as my fingers keep running through his hair, he groans softly at the action. By the way I touch him and he returns it alone, I can feel that I’m already way into deep for him and all the sensations we are creating-he is slowly carving his way through my heart with every movement he makes.

Should I be afraid? Afraid if he’ll stay or not after this moment will be over? And if he won’t stay, how will I be able to fill it up by myself again?

I shut my way too racing and worrying mind off, and snap out of it already when Noah slips his hands to my damp era again, making me slightly groan as well.

`I want you so bad,´ he whispers, and God, his words alone send shivers down my spine. He nuzzles his face in my neck again, just like he did earlier this night on the dancefloor, making me shut my eyelids and enjoy every kiss he plants on my sensitive skin there. He knows what he is doing so well, so goddamn well. He makes sure to give every corner of my neck the attention it needs, and he then places his mouth near my ear so he can whisper the words I have been secretly fantasizing about: `I need you… I want you… Now…´

`Please,´ I whimper in response, and that makes his breathing become even heavier by hearing my words. And then finally, Noah stops using his hands, and replaces it by his own length. I gasp when he teases me at first, making him grin cockily, and before I can respond to that he enters me, making me moan out of surprise and pleasure.

Noah bites his lip as response to my sound. `You feel so good…´

I nod while biting my own lip as well, almost unable to speak back because of the overwhelming pleasure. And when he starts moving, it’s like I almost see stars-he just feels way too good in me. He keeps eye contact while he moves, and he groans loudly when his movements become a bit more rougher. And hearing him groan, him keeping his eyes locked with mine, is almost too much for me to handle. My jaw falls wide wide open as I arch my back a little when he begins to hit the right spot. `Fuck,´ I can’t help but moan. `Mhm.´

`Fuck, that feels good, yeah,´ he moans back, and picks up the pace even more, grabbing my hips, slightly squeezing them.

`Noah,´ I call out his name with a gasp, `you’re so good to me. So good.´

It seems like my words and pants make him groan even more as he goes even faster. `You’re so tight,´ he groans, `so fucking hot.´

His words… His words are so incredibly hot to me, I absolutely love it when someone talks to me during sex. I close my eyes, letting my hands run through my long hair and holding one of his shoulders after. `You… you feel so good in me,´ I gasp.

`And I love being inside you, he moans into my ear, before biting his lip in response to his own words.

`Noah,´ I whimper in response to his words. They sound so heavenly to me, just like his movements. `I’m so fucking close, I swear.´

`Oh, are you?´he manages to ask, just before having to groan again.

`Yes, I am,´ I moan.

When he hears me moan, it makes him smile in pleasure, as he keeps making the same sounds and groans as well, and as he moves I know he can tell I’m almost there. And indeed, his moans, words, movements and then his goddamn smirk makes me collapse. While I come around him, I tighten around him, moaning his name over and over again.

Noah bites his lip hard to stay focused and try to hold out, I can tell. `Fuck, doll,´ he moans, trying to hold on in as best he can.

`Come for me,´ I whisper while I place my hand on his cheek. `You can pull out and come for me.´

`Oh…,´ he moans, `You…sure?´

`Of course. Your pleasure is as equally important as mine,´ I smile at him, and smirk after. `If you want to, I can even help you hit it faster for you…´

He hisses, nodding. `Yes…´ he moans, ´please help me…´

`Of course,´ I smirk. Hearing him beg for me, for my touch makes me feel so good and dominant. So when he pulls out, I grab his erected length again, moving my hand up and down again while looking at him through my lashes. Noah’s mouth falls wide open, his hair now slightly damp because of our sweaty adventure and movements. He also looks at me with amazement in his eyes, trying to focus on trying to keep his breathing in control.

`Oh… oh, wow,´ he groans.

`You like that, don’t you?´ I grin, tilting my head. Not gonna lie, making him crumble underneath my touch makes me feel hot myself again, so I slide my free hand to my own damp era to rub it slightly.

He looks at me with such admiration as he nods at me. `Oh, I love it…´ he moans, being unbelievably sensitive to my touch.

`That’s how I like to hear it,´ I smirk, making me quicken both the pace from my hand around his length and the other hand on my own era. I bite my lip before a moan escapes from my own mouth.

`Yeah?´ he asks, out of breath. `Keep doing that… Keep doing that movement.´

`This?´ I innocently ask, while moving my hand even faster. `How about I do this as well?´ I ask him, slowly gazing my tongue up and down his length.

A gasp escapes from his mouth when he feels my tongue touch him. `Oh fuck,´ he groans. He can’t even seem to respond to my question properly yet, looking like he’s so overwhelmed with my teasing touch.

And Jesus Christ, this is hotter than any fantasy I ever had, so I rub my own era even faster because of the sweaty sight of him and the hot sounds leaving his mouth. I almost come again, and when I add one more wet kiss on his length, I can see that Noah is close to coming himself as well.

`Oh, please…´ he moans, almost unable to even complete a whole sentence anymore as his breathing gets harsher and harsher, and his eyes squeeze together a bit more tightly.

`Come for me, Noah,´ I whisper, trying to hold mine back just a little more, hoping we can both reach the finish together.

`Yes… yes,´ he almost chants, as I see his body tighten, a sign that he is very close. And when I see that, I almost cry out when my own orgasm hits me, looking at him the whole time, which makes him finally collapse as well. He moans my name when his climax hits him.

I breathe out with a sly smile, feeling good about me being able to hit his climax for him so intensely. We both fall back on our backs on the mattress, trying to catch our breath.

He looks over at me with a smile that’s so purely out of pleasure, and takes my hand to squeeze it. He then intertwines his fingers with mine as he keeps lying next to me. My heart feels full with pleasure, butterflies and sudden love for his man, so I squeeze his hand back, also smiling at him. We just look at our intertwined hands in silence, but it’s a comfortable silence. The fact that the room is quite quiet and that the only thing that can be heard is the sound of our breathing, and the sound of our fingers slowly rubbing over each other’s hands-it actually gives something beautiful and romantic, yet also just… peaceful. It’s almost as if time just doesn’t exist right now.

Noah slowly turns to look at me better, and so he can lift his hand to my face to gently caress my cheek. My heart jumps because of it, and he smiles as he gently cups my cheek, looking down at my lips for a moment before softly and slowly tracing his thumb over my bottom lip. I almost close my eyes when he does that, his hand feeling soft and safe to me. I am overwhelmed with the sudden sensation and lovely touch I get from him, a side he has not really shown before. But I enjoy every second of it.

Because of the way I react to his touch, he again gently brushes his thumb over my bottom lip again, and he just does it again, and again, and again. As if he can’t seem to get enough of being able to touch me, just like I can’t. My eyes now fully close, sighing deeply through my nose out of happiness and blissfulness. I smile when I feel him trace every inch of my face, as he wants to take in everything. It creates a warm fuzzy feeling inside of me, that makes me feel like I never want him to stop doing this.

I never quite felt like this before, so peacefully and at ease-especially after having sex with someone. I am so used to it being rushed after (especially when it’s a one night stand,) towards an end, but Noah takes his time to touch so much more than my body-he is also able to touch my heart and soul with his sweet smile, and the way he looks at me while brushing my face with his fingers, like I am his own personal painting. His thumb traces the lines of each of my features that he can see to the fullest.

I feel very much adored and appreciated by his touch, so much that it almost gets me feeling a little shy. So with a small giggle I open my eyes again, asking teasingly: `Is my face that special?´

Noah smiles widely when I ask him that, and laughs a little himself, looking at his own hand still gently touching all over my face. `Yes… Yes, you are that special,´ he sighs. `You’re so… beautiful… That’s almost… almost as if…´

He doesn’t finish his sentence, and I am curious about what he has to say. `Almost if what?´ I ask him, and I tuck a little bit of his own hair behind his ear.

When he hears that question, it’s almost as if he snaps out of some kind of trance he was in. He clears his throat, and continues speaking. `As if I would get lost in every line of your face for all of eternity,´ he whispers, `and still be able to keep finding new things… A new line, a new texture, a new little freckle…´

I can feel my eyes lit up, being touched by his words. This is a side of him I just now get to know, a very gentle and tender side… And I feel very touched by it, because I know Noah doesn’t easily open up to people, and when he does, there has to be very much trust in someone. So, I can’t help but feel somewhat honored, and like he calls me himself… special.

`I… I have to admit, you leave me a bit speechless right now, Sebastian,´ I say, calling him by his last name again as I always do when I usually tease him. Maybe that’s because I am so used to us two just teasing each other, or feeling around, flirting… This is a side I have to get used to. A side I don’t mind getting used to, because it’s so real, raw, different and vulnerable-and I hope I will see it more often of him, in whatever way that may be.

When he hears me call him by his last name again makes him softly smile and laugh, and he looks me in the eye while his hand is still touching my face, still running his thumb over my skin again.

`I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without words,´ he chuckles a bit. `I’d say that’s quite an achievement…´

`Oh shut up,´ I laugh, hitting his shoulder with my fist, but tracing his arms with my fingers after. I can feel that it gives him goosebumps, so I smirk a little. When he notices the reaction to my touch being exposed, he smirks a little himself.

`Ha,´ he laughs while shaking his head, `you’re just so damn cute…´

`Hmm… Well, you are actually quite cute yourself,´ I say, squeezing his cheeks, laughing. `And I think you have to get used to getting called that, am I right?´ I tease. `Cause, what is that what fans usually call you on social media? ‘Daddy’? ‘Noah-so freaking hot-Sebastian?´

With every word and joke I laugh even more, almost rolling over because of it, the alcohol clearly still being in my veins a bit. How sweet he may be right now, I will always love to tease him.

It makes Noah giggle a little when he pretends to pout, and lifts his arm to tickle my waist. `Hmm… Okay, that’s it,´ he whispers teasingly, as he lets his fingers travel to my belly and waist, tickling them ever so slightly.

`Noah! No! That’s unfair,´ I cry out with laughter, trying not to kick him with my feet as I try to escape from his tickles and grip.

`How is it unfair?´ he laughs, and his fingers keep tickling my stomach as he now presses his fingertips into my skin a bit deeper, but in a gentle way still.

`I… think it’s pretty fair that I just got you back a little for all the teasing you do to me, don’t you think? Hm?´ he says, as he lets a soft smile spread across his face.

I giggle in response, and in a fast movement I can get out of his grip, so I can climb and sit on top of his body with a smirk. I also grab both of his arms, holding them above his head. `Ha-ha, I won,´ I grin with a wink.

He looks at me in awe and surprise when I’m able to do a quick escape move. Seeing me suddenly on top of him, straddling his hips with his arms pinned above his head and looking down at him, makes his jaw fall a little open as he looks back at me with a look that shows that he’s truly surprised that I could pull this off, which makes me grin even bigger. I love it when men underestimate me. `Jesus,´ he whispers.

`Jesus? Yeah, I think we might need him,´ I try to say with a serious face, but burst out of giggles after.

Noah laughs a little as I say that, before he lets out a deep sigh, as I still have his arms pinned above his head.

`You’re not gonna let them go now…? Hm…?´ he says, as he looks at me with a smirk.

`Nah… I actually quite like what I’m seeing right now, you underneath me like this,´ I smirk a bit evilly.

He slowly raises an eyebrow as a mischievous smile starts to spread across his face. `Hmm… You do?´ he says, before slowly starting to try and pull his arms out of my grip.

`I do,´ I whisper, when I lean my mouth towards his ears. He just keeps pulling his arms with a bit more force now, clearly wanting to get free.

`Fine, fine,´ I mumble, letting go of his arms, and then placing my own on my hips after, my naked body still sitting on top of him. `And now what, hm?´

He slowly pulls his hands back a little, and looks up at me with a sly face as I sit on top of him like this. `Ah, much better,´ he smirks, `I like to be able to touch you,´ he whispers mischievously, as he very slowly slides his hands over my skin, from my waist to my thighs.

`Ah, that’s what this is about,´ I chuckle, grabbing both his hands, placing them on my breasts and making them squeeze them. His eyes go a little wide as I do that, and just for a second he looks a little stunned, before he slowly lets a smile spread across his face yet again.

`Hmm,´ he hums softly, and I begin to sit up a little, so I can take up his length and let it enter me slowly. I hiss because of the contact, but keep eye contact with him.

`Is this what you wanted, hm?´

Noah’s eyes are fully focused on me as I make the movement, and his jaw drops slightly while his head falls to the pillow behind him. `Oh… God…´ he moans softly.

`Thought so,´ I smirk and I slowly begin to move my hips back and forth, my hands on his chest.

`Oh God,´ he moans again when his jaw drops wider, and his eyes fully close as he seems overwhelmed by all the sensations I create inside of him.

`You feel so good inside of me,´ I groan when I begin to move even faster, getting lost in him and the moment.

`Ah… You’re so…´ he moans, not finishing his sentence, and everytime he does something like this it always makes me so incredibly curious about what he wants to say, but in this moment I also feel very powerful, making him unable to speak properly because of my movements.

`So what?´ I smirk, my mouth slightly parted to keep my breath as steady as possible, my hips still moving fast, the sound of our skin slapping against each other filling the room around us.

`So… perfect…´ he whispers with his eyes closed, and we’re both getting lost in the rhythm of our breathing and my hips. `So perfect,´ he whispers again.

I let out a couple of loud moans when I let him hit my spot again when he begins to move his hips as well, making me pick up the pace even faster on top of him, my breath speeding up as well. `Oh Noah,´ I whimper with a hoarse voice, `you’re so good to me. So good.´

His eyes flutter open as I let out those moans, and he lifts his own hips a little, trying to get even deeper inside of me. `Yeah?´ he whispers back. `You like that?´

`So much,´ I cry out of pleasure. `I like every inch of your length inside of me. Every bit,´ I moan, letting my thoughts and feelings of pleasure slip over my tongue just like that.

`Ugh, baby…´ he moans yet again, as he lifts himself up again and presses his upper body against mine, now looking at me up close, and the way I’m completely gotten lost in this. `You’re so hot…´

Him calling me baby makes me completely lose it inside, so I wrap my arms around his neck, so he can bury his head in my chest while he kisses them. Dear God, this truly is the hottest, most insane and intense sex I have ever had, no lie. And I can’t get enough of it, of him, of every inch and touch of him. His sweet, tender and passionate kisses get more intense, as his lips start to explore my skin more and more, his tongue starting to join.

`Oh God,´ I moan out loudly, making my head fall back on my shoulders. As he hears me moan, he begins to let his own loud moans out as well against my skin, as he keeps pressing his lips against it.

`I’m so close, baby, so close,´ I say out of breath, as I pick up my pace even more with my hips as much as I possibly can.

He lifts his fingers to brush some of my hair off my face that has fallen in my sight. `Yeah?´ he breathes heavily, `Yeah?´ he repeats, now moaning as his fingers softly grip the back of my hair, but his eyes are so incredibly intense and focused on me.

I return his intense stare, even though it does make me blush deeply. `Yeah,´ I breathe out to answer him, moving my hips a little deeper.

Noah keeps looking at me while his fingers in my hair tighten their grip a little more. `Oh… Oh baby,´ he whispers in a moan, as he lifts his own hips up against mine.

`Oh! Oh fuck,´ I curse with a loud moan when I feel myself tighten around him, hitting my climax. I pant and still grind my hips a little when I come, and let my head fall on his shoulders when I’m done.

His body shivers with mine, and sends him over the edge as well when I come. He presses his hips firmly against me while he hits his own climax, and holds me close while he gently presses his own sweet, tender yet intense kisses on my neck, my shoulder, and my chest. I sigh out of pleasure and satisfaction while I feel his kisses all over my skin.

Noah keeps pressing his lips against it, as his breathing slowly starts to become less heavy and more stable again, just like mine. The feeling of his lupus against my skin stays gentle, and he lifts his head to look at me when my head is still on his shoulder.

`That… Yeah that was fucking insane,´ I breathe out with a little laugh as I climb off him and lay down next to him after, rolling on my side so I can still face him, leaning my face on my hands underneath my face.

Noah can’t help but let a little giggle escape as I lay down next to him, and he turns on his own side to face me as well. He looks into my eyes and softly smiles as he softly whispers: `I… I agree.´

Now it’s my turn to let my hand and thumb explore his face, taking in every inch of it. He presses his face against my hand, letting him softly brush my thumb over his features, all while he looks deeply into my eyes.

I truly do not know how to get over this moment, nor how to forget it-because I don’t want to, I can’t. I know that after we shared this intense and deeply intimate moment with each other, there is no turning back to normal anymore for me and Noah. And maybe… maybe I don’t even want to, and I know that’s bad. I can’t imagine him not ever touching me like this again-I don’t want it to ever stop. I can’t imagine never hearing our moans filling both our ears again, his hot voice whispering my darkest and dirtiest fantasies making them come alive, our eyes locked in the most intense and loving way…

I can’t say goodbye to that. I truly don’t want to. But in a few hours the sun will rise again, Noah and the rest of the band have to play a show in the evening again, and I have to be their make-up and dressing assistant again. And then what? We have to behave normally again, like nothing ever happened? And also around the rest of the band and crew? I wonder how Noah looks at this, but I am also a little scared to find out, not wanting to let this magical moment end anytime soon, even though I know it has to.

Noah keeps softly smiling at me as I still explore his features with my hand, and lifts a hand to gently brush over my neck until it reaches my chin to lift my face up so gently, so my eyes match his again. That totally does not make anything even harder for me, or something. His eyes look over my eyes for a moment, drinking me in before he speaks. I can’t help but feel completely hypnotized by his dark eyes.

`Listen…´ he breathes out, as he slowly tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear. `I… I really enjoy being with you… And this… This was so beautiful, nice… and hot… Truly.´ He deeply breathes out again.

´But…´ he whimpers with a small sigh, and there it goes-the pang in my stomach filled with a little fear.

`But…?´

`But…´ he whimpers again, still looking at me with this warm, tender, yet conflicted and sad look. `There’s a small problem,´ he whispers softly, as he gently brushes a thumb over my cheek.

`I know. My job. My position, me being your assistant and all,´ I sigh. His head sinks a little as I bring this up, and he lets out a small sigh as he leans closer.

`Yeah… exactly,´ he whispers softly. `I really… really care about you… and really enjoy company, and this… This was all incredible…´

The look on his face, that soft sad look, is still a conflicted one. I can’t help but turn around, staring at the ceiling for a moment, trying to ignore all my conflicted feelings, the butterflies for Noah, the disappointment and the sudden overwhelming sadness. I mean, I can’t really be surprised by his words right? I know since the moment I leaned into him and we started this, it somehow had to end, it all had to turn back to normal the next day. And it still hurts, more than I expected it to do.

I can hear Noah sigh softly, slowly wrapping his arm around my waist, and I sigh as well, stroking his arm in a warm manner, but pushing him off after. If this has the end either way… It just has to end quickly, I guess, so I can deal with the sadness a little easier. So I get out of bed, grab my bathrobe that’s hanging on the bathroom door, and put it on quickly. I sigh once again, leaning against the door, looking at him through the dark room, only lit a little by the moon shining through the window next to the hotelbed.

`So… this is it, then?´ I softly ask.

Noah sighs as well, and he lifts himself on his elbows to look at me, while the sheets around him partially cover his body.

`I guess so,´ he mumbles, as his jaw slightly clenches, in sadness it seems.

I nod, pressing my lips together, trying to show as little emotions as possible, hoping it somehow will make things easier for us. `Okay.´

`I…I…´ Noah stumbles over his words, seeming to struggle for finding the right ones. `Please…´ he whispers, his voice cracking just a little bit as I can see his eyes twinkle in the darkness with sad emotions. `Please… don’t feel so sad…´

`I don’t. I mean, I do-but I know I shouldn’t. It’s just… I feel a little stupid, even though I know where I was getting into… And I don’t regret it at all, not the slightest, don’t get me wrong. It’s just…´ I shrug, looking over at him with a sad smile. `I did not expect to get so attracted to you, I guess.´

He closes his eyes for a moment, as he listens to me speak. `Yeah, neither did I…´ he whispers softly, opening his eyes again after.

I blink a couple of times, my heart racing by his honest words, basically confirming he feels the same way as I do, but I try to push it away after. Why get my hopes up still for things that can not happen anyway, if it has no point?

So I just nod at him again, and hand him a spare bathrobe that was hanging next to mine when walk to him again. `Here,´ I mumble.

He looks at me with the same conflicted look as I hand it over to him. He gets out of bed, and his eyes don’t leave mine as he slowly puts the bathrobe around himself, and ties it in place. When he is finished, he still stares at me with his body facing me, not being able to stop staring into my sad eyes.

`Oh, and you shouldn’t forget these of course,´ I chuckle, or at least, I try to, so I know my laugh doesn’t sound honest to Noah. I hand him his clothes that were laying on the floor still, unable to look into his eyes again, knowing that that would make this all too much harder for me.

I’m such a fool, such a goddamn fool. To think that I would catch no single feelings for Noah after a one night stand with him, while I’ve been attracted to him since the beginning, while we have been flirting and teasing for so long… And now that we finally had the moment to act on it, it has to end, way too soon for my liking.

Noah looks at the clothes I have handed to him, but doesn’t take them just yet as he walks closer to you. `Listen, please…´ he whispers, as his hand brushes along my arm gently, giving me strength to finally look back at him again.

He takes a deep breath in and out, his chest rising and sinking deeply when he seems to put his thoughts into the right words to say. `Please…´ he whispers softly yet pleadingly, `please don’t think it’s because I don’t want you in my life anymore…´

His fingers gently caress my cheek, and the corners of my mouth twitch. `Noah, don’t worry, I know that’s not the case,´ I sigh, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear. `We’ll just… try to sleep in our own rooms again, sleep it all off… and get up with a fresh start in the morning and get you ready for your next performance, right?´ Whenever I try to smile, they keep being sad, I can just feel it.

He looks at me, knowing that he can see through my fake smile. `Yeah…´ he whispers softly, and it looks like he wants to move closer, but changes his mind quickly and just lets his gaze sink instead.

`I think you should go. So we can both catch some sleep for the next show, I mean,´ I gulp, staring at my own feet.

`Yeah… I understand… You’re right,´ he softly says, which is also when he also finally takes his clothes from me.

I look at him, seeing his heartbroken eyes, and feel the same as well. It’s not fair that this has to end this way and go this way. But we both knew this moment would come one way or another, so… I guess we have ourselves to blame.

I slowly walk towards my door to hold it open for Noah when a few minutes of painful silence has passed, knowing that if I won’t open the door for him, he would stay here in silence still-and that’s too painful for me right now. I can see Noah’s jaw clenching as he looks from me to the door, and sighs again with a small, barely visible nod as he slowly makes his way towards the door. I want to hold him back, I want him to stay here and replay the whole night with him-but I know that isn’t smart and we shouldn’t do that. So when he makes his way towards the door, going through it to make his way to his own hotel room again, I try to swallow sudden upcoming tears away. Man, I hate when emotions get involved.

But just as he is out of my room and in the hallway, he stops in his tracks, clearly catching my sounds of me trying to sniff back my tears and emotions. Goddamnit. His head begins to hang low for a few seconds, before he turns around and takes a slow step back into my room. The look on his face is full of pain and heartbreak for me, and I slowly shake my head.

`Noah,´ I whisper, hating that I’m such a mess because of all of this. `It’s okay. I’m just being overdramatic,´ I try to joke, but I fail. `So… it’s okay.´

He stops for a moment, a few feet away from me, and his eyes lock with mine, seeing the tears streaming over my cheeks. Gosh, why do I always have to be such an emotional person? Already saddened and dramatic over something like this?

At my attempt at a joke, he shakes his head instantly. `No, no…´ he whispers, `Don’t-don’t put this on yourself,´ he adds as he closes the door behind him.

`We’re making this way too hard for ourselves,´ I sniff, now unable to hold back my tears, and laugh out of frustration after. `Sorry, I don’t get why I’m crying either.´

Noah shakes his head. `No… No, this is normal…´ he whispers in almost croak in his throat. He seems to finally give up his own restraint, and slowly reaches out and pulls me into him to hug me tightly.

The hug only makes my sniffs worse, but I do accept it. I nuzzle my head into his neck, and my head gets a little red because of embarrassment. `Jesus, I really am a mess, aren’t I?´ I laugh through my tears. `I just… I think it’s just… I have waited for this moment with you for a while… and I didn’t expect it to be over so soon. Stupid, isn’t it?´ I sniff.

He sighs deeply as he feels my tears fall into his chest and holds me in his arms, and his chin gently rests on my forehead as he caresses my back with a tender and soft touch. `Believe me… I feel the same way,´ he croaks again. `I knew that this might end this way… but I guess I was too stupid to be rational… and accept,´ he continues as his chin sinks gently on my shoulder.

`Guess we are both stupid,´ I laugh through my tears.

Noah chuckles as well, painfully, and his head nuzzles gently into the crook of my neck. `Yeah… We’re pretty damned stupid,´ he whispers.

I sigh and let go of him, stroking his cheek with my hand and tucking a strand of loose hair behind his ear after, making him close his eyes for a moment. I give him a sad smile. `You should go, Noah. Believe me, I wish you could stay… but you shouldn’t.´

He nods slowly and sadly at my words. `Yeah,´ he softly says, `you’re right.´ He leans in just a small small bit, only to give me a small, sad little peck on my lips, before he steps back. My heart jumps when he does that, and it gives me butterflies but also sadness all at the same time.

Noah then looks at me one last time, with a small but sad smile, before closing the door behind him.

`Goodnight,´ I whisper to the closed door, and wander through my own hotel room and thoughts after.

#18+ only #18+ story #bad omens cult #bad omens fanfiction #fanfiction #noah sebastian #noah sebastian bad omens #noah sebastian smut #noahsebastian #smut #romantic fanfic #romantic #romance #romantasy #romantic story #bad omens fic #badomenscult #badomens #bad omens #noahsebastian fan fic #noah bad omens #noah sebastian fan fiction #noahsebastiansmut

[cinnabunwanda]

selfish pt. 2 ✰ Bucky Barnes

content warning — angst, crying, swearing

pairing — Fem reader x Bucky Barnes

summary — Bucky, a soldier, finds y/n in distress, feeling lost and grief. He helps her and reassures her. Y/n reveals Steve left to be with Peggy, causing her to cry and cries.

word count — 1216

Bucky's stomach churned as he reluctantly entered y/n's room, immediately hit by the pungent stench that hung in the air. He raised his arm to cover his nose, teasingly commenting on the foul odor that seemed to have taken over the once pleasant space. With a sense of urgency, Bucky rushed to open the windows, letting in fresh air in an attempt to combat the unpleasant smell.

As he turned back to face y/n, his heart sank at the sight before him. She had barely moved from her spot since Steve had left a week ago. Bucky had tried to make her laugh with his jokes and sat with her during meals, but she remained unresponsive and lost in her thoughts. It was as if she had disappeared along with Steve.

Bucky was no stranger to loss, but this one hit especially hard. He was used to losing people - it came with being a soldier. But losing his best friend and their girl to someone they loved 70 years ago? That was a whole new level of pain. And while Bucky had learned to cope with grief quickly, he still found himself crying into his pillow at night, feeling more alone than ever.

But now, as he looked at y/n's unmoving figure, he realized just how much this loss had affected her. She hadn't even been able to take care of herself, let alone wash away the days' grime. Bucky sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair before mustering up a gentle smile.

He gently coaxed y/n into the shower, reminding her that she needed to take care of herself even though Steve was gone. The water cascaded down on her skin, numbing her senses and providing some semblance of relief from her overwhelming thoughts.

But even as she sat there in the cold water, all she could see was Steve's lifeless body. His eyes empty of the spark that used to light up when he teased her, his once bright smile now gone. She couldn't even begin to imagine how he died - was it at the hands of Thanos himself? Did he die while trying to save someone else? The possibilities were endless, but the pain of losing him remained constant.

As she sat lost in her thoughts, a gentle knock on the bathroom door brought y/n back to reality. She looked up briefly, her red eyes following the sound through the steamed-up glass shower door.

Y/n's body was submerged in the warm, comforting embrace of the shower. The water cascaded down her skin, washing away tears and worries that seemed to cling onto her every move. Bucky's soothing voice drifted through the curtain, a lifeline for her troubled mind. She felt a sense of relief and safety wash over her as he checked up on her, even though she hadn't spoken in days.

Finally, with a deep breath, she stepped out of the shower and into the steamy bathroom. Her towel, left folded by Bucky, awaited her and she hastily wrapped it around her body. Y/n ran her fingers through her damp hair and sighed.

Bucky's reassuring smirk greeted her as she emerged from the bathroom. He sat on her bed, his hands braced on the edge of the mattress, exuding an air of calmness and stability. "She's alive," he remarked playfully, referencing the long time y/n spent in the shower.

As y/n quickly dressed herself under the towel, Bucky respectfully kept his gaze elsewhere. His presence alone was enough to make y/n feel at ease, and she found herself grateful for his company.

"Do you want me to leave?" Bucky asked softly as he stood up to give y/n privacy.

"Wait," y/n's timid voice stopped him in his tracks. She took a breath before continuing, "Would you stay with me tonight? I don't know if I can be alone again..."

Without hesitation, Bucky climbed back into bed beside y/n and pulled her close to him. Their intertwined fingers lay over his chest, his metal arm providing a sense of strength and protection.

In the stillness of the room, only the faint whirring of Bucky's metal arm could be heard. Y/n finally mustered up the courage to ask about Steve's death, her words trembling with unshed tears.

"Bucky?" she spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper.

He hummed in response, his fingers gently playing with hers as he waited for her to continue.

"How did Steve...you know, die?" She bit through her tears, bracing herself for the answer.

Bucky's expression softened as he looked down at her, sensing her pain and fear. He took a deep breath before answering, his voice filled with sorrow and regret.

Bucky felt his stomach drop at her question, a heavy weight settling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't expected her to ask about this now, when they were curled up on her bed, warmth and comfort surrounding them. The words stuck in his throat, refusing to come out as he tried to pry them loose.

"I-" he couldn't bring himself to lie. It would be cruel, especially to someone he cared for so deeply. She deserved to know the truth, no matter how much it hurt. "Y/n, Steve didn't- he didn't die." Bucky ground out through gritted teeth, feeling like his tongue was coated in sandpaper.

"W-what?" Y/n's voice trembled with shock, fear, hope, and anger all at once. She sat up quickly, turning around in his embrace to face Bucky. A scowl etched itself across her usually gentle features, marring her beautiful eyes with a hint of bitterness. "Then where is he?"

Bucky let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as he braced himself for her reaction.

"Bucky. Where is Steve?" Y/n's tone had shifted from confusion to coldness, something uncharacteristic for her. Bucky swallowed hard, but it did little to ease the tension that had settled between them. He watched as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Steve left, doll. He's not- he's not coming back." Bucky confessed, his face falling into his hands.

"What do you mean?" Y/n whispered brokenly, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "Why isn't he coming back?"

"Because he left to be with Peggy, okay? He left us, y/n!" Bucky finally snapped, his own tears mingling with hers as they stained his flushed cheeks. The grief still lingered within him.

Y/n's expression mirrored the devastation she felt the day Bucky first told her Steve was gone. But this time, there was a spark of rage in her eyes.

"I don't understand, why would he-" Y/n's voice trailed off, unable to finish her question as the answer dawned on her.

"I don't either, doll. I miss him, but I also hate him for what he did. To me, to you, to us." Bucky's voice was barely above a whisper now, his eyes downcast as he picked at the hem of his shirt.

"I-" y/n began to speak before breaking off into a choked sob, falling back into Bucky's embrace.

Steve, her Steve, had become a selfish and misguided man. He had shattered their bond and left them both with broken hearts.

© CINABUNWANDA ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

#marvel smut #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes smut #bucky x yn #mxg smut #dom Bucky barnes #mlg smut #bottom reader #x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff

[mandaplease10]

A Polin Take Nobody Asked For #2

Colin's Fear of Unrequited Love

Many have pointed out that Colin always felt something towards Penelope, but couldn't decipher the difference between platonic love vs romantic love until the kiss.

I do agree with this, but I also have another thought I'd like to add.

What if Colin knew/understood his feelings for Penelope, but was afraid she wouldn't return those feelings?

Now, I don't necessarily think this may have been the case all along, but it is definitely a major part of his inner struggle within in Season 3 Part 1.

During his travels and missing Penelope, I do think he started to realize something was different in his feelings towards Penelope, which is what led him to his new persona (I talk about this is #1).

Now, we know that he instantly is in search for Penelope when he returns and the smile on his face when he finally lays eyes on her says it all.

Then he sees her at the Ball and again, he is aware of something feeling different towards Penelope, but tries to downplay it because he still doesn't know what changed between them.

Once he finds out, he is upset and wants to make things right. They make their agreement and their bare hands touch for the first time and you can see in his face and reaction that it affects him.

Little by little every interaction Pen and Colin have affects him either consciously or subconsciously. He is aware of these feelings, but he knows they are friends and tries to repress them.

Until the kiss. The kiss that changes everything in the sense that no matter how hard he tries, he can't hide his feelings anymore.

In the scene under the willow, I fully believe that if Penelope had mentioned the kiss and expressed feelings towards him, he would have poured his heart out there.

But she doesn't. In fact, she does the opposite because she doesn't want him to know about her feelings. But we can see that he is struggling with hearing that the kiss was nothing and that it wouldn't happen again.

So, he plays it off (awkwardly) because he doesn't want to reveal his feelings when it is obvious to him that Pen doesn't feel the same.

It is that very fear of his love for Penelope being unrequited that prevents him from telling her sooner - especially when Lord Debling comes into the picture.

The scene/conversation that go me thinking of Colin's fear is when he and Violet were discussing about friendship and love. Colin doesn't ask how she knew or Edmund knew that they loved the other person, he asked how they knew both parties felt the same.

"Because he had the courage to ask."

Colin now knows that the only way for him to know if Pen feels the same is to simply ask her. So, he walks over to her and is ready to ask, but the fear of losing Pen or hearing she does not feel the same is crippling and he freezes.

That fear continues to cripple him until finally Violet tells him about the possibility of Penelope marrying someone else. He knew this could happen and Pen had been seeking a husband, but actually hearing the words out loud gave him the courage to confess his feelings.

I do think that some of Colin's struggle with his feelings for Penelope was due to their friendship or how society may have viewed their relationship, but deep down - I truly think it was Colin's fear of Penelope not loving him back that fueled the struggle.

#colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton season 3 #Bridgerton Season 3 #penelope featherington

[1d1195]

Love and Dryer Sheets - Extra I

Read Love and Dryer Sheets here | ~1.5k words

Warnings: none; fluff (maybe a tiny bit of angst but nothing major)

Summary: Harry and Miss Sunshine are picking Niall up from the airport and Harry is freaking out.

Harry thought there was nothing cuter than how bubbly she was at the airport. The way she was practically bouncing with excitement to see her best friend. Of course, Harry had met Niall the one time back in the laundry room and spoken with him several times over the last several months while she was present.

But as excited as she was, Harry was nervous.

While he thought Niall was somewhat over Harry’s unfortunate first kiss with her, he wasn’t convinced that he had fully forgiven Harry. Honestly, he couldn’t blame him. After all she had been through between her family and her ex, Harry felt just as protective of her heart. It was a tricky start to their relationship, and he was forever grateful to her for being so forgiving.

Harry wasn’t happy. Then he met her, and he was.

It was simple and complicated, and he wasn’t sure he could ever explain it fully to someone who wasn’t her as they would never experience it firsthand. “You’re going to squeeze my fingers clean off, Munchkin,” she gave his hand a gentle squeeze as they waited patiently by baggage claim for Niall to arrive.

Harry dropped the pressure but didn’t let go. He was surprised he could muster enough of a hold on it without it slipping right out. He was so nervous his hand was slick with sweat in hers. “Sorry, Sunshine,” he murmured.

“Are you nervous?” She asked blinking up at him. Those pretty eyes analyzing him immediately. “It’s just Niall.”

“I don’t think Niall has fully forgiven me,” he muttered.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing to forgive. It hurt at the time, but it’s over and it’s better,” she squeezed his hand comfortingly. The bustle of people greeting loved ones overpowered most of Harry’s thoughts, but his conscience was happy to remind him that he was the worst.

Maybe Niall will kill you. Harry swore his conscience was actually an entirely separate entity of his mind and was looking forward to Harry’s demise.

His heart didn’t have a response that had anything to do with Niall. Can you be quiet? She’s holding our hand!

Harry wrapped his arm around her and brought her closer to his side so he could kiss the top of her head. “It is better, hmm?” he hummed.

She smiled. The voice of her heart was practically asleep, warmth surrounding it, as it snuggled into Harry’s embrace. The voice in her head was just as quiet, used to Harry’s affection, but almost as stunned by it the first time he kissed her. Harry felt her phone vibrate against him as he held her. It felt sinful for her to move from his side even the little bit that she did, but he let her of course. Watched her bring the phone to her ear. “Hey Ni,” she smiled. She listened carefully and started searching around for her friend. Harry glanced around too, the nerves eating at him more ferociously. “I don’t see you,” she frowned. “Do you see him—? I could just leave you here, Niall Horan. I was kind enough to drag myself and Harry out to get you at this ungodly hour.” Harry smirked and put a hand on her back and pointed across the room to where Niall arrived with his bag in tow. She bolted without warning, Harry chuckled as he followed her.

Niall rubbed her back soothingly and kissed her cheek as she reached him. Her arms around his neck and he mumbled something in her ear for just her. “There’s no place like home, huh, princess,” he winked at her. She rolled her eyes but ignored him all the same. He turned to Harry. “Harry,” he nodded and held his hand out for a handshake.

Harry took it and firmly shook it. Somehow it was twenty times worse than meeting her parents. “Niall,” he answered. Right as Niall released his hand, he punched Harry’s stomach. Hard.

“NIALL!” She gasped as Harry leaned forward, the wind knocked out of him, as he groaned at the impact. She put a hand on his back as he crunched inward.

Harry swore the voice in his head was laughing.

“Sorry, I had to get that out of my system,” Niall shrugged nonchalantly, grabbing the handle of his bag and waited for Harry to disagree or get himself together.

“S’okay,” Harry groaned. “Deserved it,” he mumbled.

“Oh my God, Niall, that was ridiculous!”

“No,” Harry grunted, stood straighter as the immediate pain subsided. He shook his head. “He’s right, I deserved it. S’okay, love,” he assured her. She rolled her eyes.

“There is something wrong with both of you.”

“S’a guy thing,” he promised and grabbed her hand, twined their fingers together. Honestly, if that was all Niall needed to do to forgive him, that was well worth it. There was no Sunshine without Niall’s approval. No days of watching The Wizard of Oz. He didn’t foresee a future Halloween where she, himself, and their future children dressed as the people of Oz and trick-or-treated with their little dog Toto. So, if Niall needed to get that out of his system, Harry was for it.

Plus, Harry felt like it was good retribution for making her cry.

“Ready?” Niall asked casually and she rolled her eyes squeezing Harry’s hand as Niall walked toward the exit.

“Are you okay?” She asked gently.

“M’fine, kitten. Promise. S’well worth it,” he winked at her and kissed her forehead as he tugged her after her friend.

*

When she met Harry, he was angry. So angry she thought it was his whole personality. But over the year of knowing him, she was utterly surprised to find out what a softie he was. He was snuggly—unbelievably so. His body was wrapped around hers like she was a tree, and he was a vine. His breath was warm on her neck, the steady rise and fall of his breathing was comforting and made her sleepy but part of her didn’t want to drift off. She was enjoying how peaceful this moment was. There was no rhyme or reason as to where they ended up sleeping on any given night. There was one week about a month ago that Harry all but moved into her place. Brought his laundry to fold while she read on the sofa and that was where he stayed until his clothes ran out. Sometimes she pressed her button on the elevator, sometimes Harry’s. It was without thought but it was natural. Completely. His place was just as much hers as it was his.

She wondered if her parents ever had this. Maybe that was why it was so odd to her. It was unfortunate, but she knew that she never had it in her last relationship. “S’matter, Sunshine?” Harry’s groggy, sleepy voice was one of her favorite sounds.

“Nothing,” she leaned toward him, kissed his forehead. “Nothing at all, Munchkin.”

He must have been tired because he didn’t respond, and she thought if he were a little more awake, he would have questioned her more. But he had had a long week and picking Niall up only added to his exhaustion. A quiet groan escaped his lips as he stretched suddenly, and he sat up a little straighter against the headboard and his pillows. Then he flicked on the bedside lamp casting him in a warm glow. He squinted against the light, his face drawn and tired, but he looked ready to talk anyway.

“Harry,” she hummed gently and stroked her fingertips softly along the stubble on his cheek. “S’late and you’re tired.”

“M’fine, kitten. S’matter? What’s going on in your pretty little head?” His voice was still groggy but she knew he wouldn’t sleep until she told him.

There was a pause. “You like snuggling.”

“I do,” he replied with a firm nod. “S’it too much?” He asked.

She shook her head quickly. “No, not at all. It’s...” she sighed. “It’s nice. I... I never had that.”

He turned on his side, draped an arm over her waist and brought her closer to his chest. “Hmm,” he hummed. “Good,” he mumbled.

She smiled. “Good?”

He nodded. “All mine,” he murmured, kissed her forehead. She giggled silently against his chest and inhaled the scent of his cologne. It was so intoxicating, so warm. I wanna be closer. Her heart nearly cried.

We physically cannot be closer. Her brain reasoned.

Her heart didn’t like that answer. “Wish I could be closer,” he mumbled squeezing her gently in attempt to actually get closer. It soothed her heart slightly. Her conscience, if it had the ability to roll its eyes, it would have.

Ridiculous. But she couldn’t help but notice how the voice’s sarcastic tone was the slightest bit appeased by the closeness of Harry.

“I love you,” Harry murmured.

Smiling, against his skin, she kissed the base of his throat and nodded. “I love you,” she whispered back.

--

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[wexhappyxfew]

oh goodness, what about soft john and annie with "it’s okay, you can touch me. i won't break." ?

AH HELLO!!!!! first of all; a massive thank you for sending this prompt in and for stopping by the askbox!!! it is so greatly appreciated in my lil corner of the world. and second - SOFT JOHN AND ANNIE!!!! coming *right* up! this was such a good prompt for them and i immediately saw it and was like - i need to do this Right. Now. and here we are! sincerest thank you's for this! please enjoy! <3

cold hands

(a/n): annie x brady girlies i am in shambles over this please know. a whole lot of annie's internal monologue and how greatly she is affected by her traumatizing youth - and her struggle to break free from that. and brady is a part of that healing process <3 annie bradshaw you will always be famous girl - never change! :D

Seeing him sat there, head bowed, body completely frozen had to be one of the worst feelings she had experienced in a long time.

And she'd grown up with a mother who hardly had wanted a thing to do with her, much less take care of the children that were in her care.

A part of Annie saw him as a little boy for the first time, in a way. Knowing that behind this strong facade of an Air Force Captain, who had flown B-17s all over Europe, over Germany, down to Africa, training his heart out, there was still that little boy who lived inside of him.

Annie stood in the doorway of the empty bunk room, entirely unsure of her next moves.

She was her own command pilot, a Lieutenant!

She'd gone through hell and back in her youth, gone through training where she was viewed as nothing more than the bottom of the barrel, fighting her way to both be respected and viewed as a pilot in the Air Force, and equally gone through constant doubt, grief and dismissal because of the fact she was a woman. She'd gone through multiple ranges of situations she'd been lost and confused in; but she'd found a way. She had commanded Silver Bullets on nearly 20 missions, risking her life day in and day out, she'd shown herself in every possible light and proven herself time and time again.

Yet, in this moment, she had no idea what to do.

She was usually great at this; dealing with her little siblings, answering their questions as to why Mommy was in bed again, or where Dad was, or why they didn't have anything for breakfast - yeah, that'd been easy, she'd gotten good at it.

Enough to convince herself that it almost wasn't true (even though it was).

This though? She couldn't stop standing there and looking at him and seeing nothing but that young boy.

Annie took a tentative step forward and it didn't take him even less than a second to look up from the ground and towards her, his hardened gaze immediately growing gentle at the sight of her there in the threshold, his white knuckles releasing the built-up tension that had been there previously.

She didn't miss the reddening hand-mark on his cheek or the bruising underneath his eye - something Bucky had warned her about before going in - she did miss him though.

Even if he was right there in front of her, she'd miss him. Those weeks apart, knowing he was here and she was back in Thorpe Abbotts - that had been enough for her heart to pull into two.

"Hey," she said, her voice quiet, immediately splitting the silence in the room into two, as a small smile darted onto her face, "was looking for you." Brady watched her, his eyes, which had turned soft and delicate like they always did when watching her, darted across her face, as if searching for a hidden wound he couldn't uncover. The corners of his lips rose upwards the slightest bit, the smile tight of his face as he sat up a bit straighter. He was always sitting up straighter, putting on the brave face, trying to do things for her instead of himself.

"Everyone's outside." she said when he didn't say anything - which, admittedly, had made her heart hurt a bit, "The sun came out. It may be gone before you know it." Annie watched Brady's face; she was getting to the point of noticing even the most minute of details about his facial expressions, down to the shifting of his eyes, the way his eyebrow would twitch, even when the corner of his mouth darted upwards or downwards depending on the mood.

She remembered when she was younger and her parents would get into a fight - Annie, at the peak age of 13 - would be shuffling her siblings off to bed, her older brother, Roy, still at work, playing peacemaker with fire and water. She could get to the point when she knew a fight would start - her mother's lip twitch, the blank look in her eye that slowly shifted to despair and guilt. Her father half alive on his feet, yelling about the bills and the house and that damn leaky faucet. She could picture those faces in her mind. Even sensing the slightest change in someone's face made her go into fight-or-flight; she was trying to get better at it.

"Annie." She blinked. Shifting her gaze towards Brady, he was slowly standing to his feet from the bunk, his tall frame coming towards her as he gently placed his hands on her arms, getting a good look at her face as if she was under a light.

"You okay?" he asked her, that worrying look immediately crossing his face like it always did. Annie looked up at him and nodded quickly.

"I should be asking you that," she said softly back to him, the corner of her lip perking upwards again in an attempt at a smile, "are you okay?" Brady watched her and nodded.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "just needed a minute to sit, ya know?" She watched him. "Keep my mind thinking, things like that." Annie quirked out a grin at him.

"Whatcha thinking about?" she asked him, her voice lighthearted as she gazed up at him with that softened gaze even she knew she used on him when it was just them, alone. That got Brady grinning wide, his usual smile a natural comfort to her at this point.

"C'mon, you can tell me," Annie said softly, leaning towards him, tilting her chin upwards with a smile, "I'm being serious."

"Just….things," he said, incredibly nonchalantly and off-handedly, catching her gaze and grinning slightly, "why are you still giving me that look?" Annie smiled at him, relishing the closeness of him, the feel of his hands on her arms, that look in his eyes, him simply there, staring right back at her.

Moments like this she reveled in and drank up. Because in her life, no one had ever taken the time to care for someone like her in a situation like this. She had always worried about the kids, her parents (despite their blunders) and especially Roy who had worked himself nearly to death for the Bradshaws. Now, someone was stood here, caring for her.

She couldn't help but wonder what went on in their brain.

"How'd you get that?" Annie asked him quietly, nodding to his slightly bruising cheek, the faint redness following. She watched him expectantly and held his gaze as he watched her back.

"I talked back. To the Germans, I don't know....I shouldn't have." Brady said quietly, "I hear the way they talk sometimes, Annie. Just….couldn't keep it in this go-round." Annie watched him, before slowly bringing her hand towards his cheek before hesitating. Brady smiled shakily.

"It's okay," he said with a hint of a smile, "you can touch me." He grinned wider, more genuinely. "I won't break." Annie softly encapsulated his bruising cheek in her hand, her thumb brushing against the fragile reddening skin on his cheek and met his gaze again.

"I could try and get you some ice," Annie said quietly, her mind spinning to get an idea going in her head, "or….I don't know, freeze water or something. It's cold as hell here anyway." Brady chuckled at her words and melted a bit more into her touch.

"I'd be fine just like this," he told her with another smile, "are your hands always this cold?" Annie let out a small laugh at his words and brought her other hand up to hold his other cheek, her thumbs brushing against his slightly stubbled cheeks, her touch evidently one of comfort for the both of them.

This.

Whatever this was between them. Holding each other like this, looking at each other like this, being this close without any sort of expectation or explanation.

"Considering how cold it has been outside," Annie started softly, "I wouldn't be too surprised. I did grow up where we were constantly snowed-in in the winter."

"That doesn't mean you need to have cold hands," Brady said softly, bringing his own hands up from her arms and layering his own hands over her own, grasping gently around her wrists and dancing his fingers over her exposed skin, peaking out past the cuffs on her coat, "this'll heal up in no time." Annie gave him a look.

"I'm getting you ice still," Annie said quietly, tilting her head to the side, the feel of his, admittedly, very warm hands, over her own, making her body ache for every part of him in more ways than one - along with the need to take care of him, "no ifs, ands, or buts about it, got it?" She caught that look on his face that told her that he was about to brush himself off again.

"I see that look."

"What?" Brady said with a small smile, as she tapped her thumbs lightly against his cheeks again, "You're reminding me a lot of my mom right now, Annie." Annie watched him, with a smile that warmed up her entire being.

"I had enough little siblings to take care of," Annie said, watching him with an almost more sorrowful look in her eyes than intended, "I guess taking care of others is what I do best." Brady's smile fell the slightest bit, and the room seem to turn into both a stale-air and stilled environment.

"You're the best at a lot of things you do, An, you know that." Brady said - his questioning sounding more like an adamant statement.

And this is why John Brady meant more to her than most - he seemed to notice those moments that she fell back on herself or undermined whatever accomplishments or bettering for herself that she might get.

He always reminded her of who she was.

"A damn good pilot, you could give me a run for my money any day," Brady said with a small, light-hearted chuckle, his fingers still dancing over her exposed wrists, over the few scars that were still there and scabbing, "and you know how to make the perfect cup of coffee." Annie let out a laugh she couldn't hold back. "It's true!"

"You just want a good cup of coffee, huh?"

"Annie." Brady said, almost adoringly as he watched her, his hands still on her wrists and cold hands, "I'll take the ice."

"Good!" Annie exclaimed with an uncontrollable grin on her cheeks, before standing to her tiptoes and bringing Brady's head to her lips, a soft kiss pressed to his forehead, something so damn maternal that she wasn't sure if she was even in her right mind, "I'll go get one of those metal tins. Fill it up." She looked at him with a smile. "And we'll get you healing up with that ice pack." Brady watched her with a slightly halted and dazed look in his eyes, gazing at her like she was a shining light.

"You're amazing, you know that?"

"You don't have to butter up to me, John," Annie said, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks again in a soothing manner, "I'd do it either way." She grinned. Brady watched her and grasped her hands tighter this time; firmer, more confidently.

"Really though, An," he said softly, "you're really amazing." Annie watched him for a moment, her eyes searching his, trying to figure out a way to respond to his words without sounding like a complete, wordless idiot.

Because standing there, she wanted to tell him the same thing right back.

Even more so.

He was beyond amazing - if there was even a word to describe someone like him that was beyond words a dictionary could provide.

"You're pretty amazing yourself, John," she whispered back, a tiny voice in her head telling her to accept his words, "thank you." He smiled at her. Beyond amazing, she thought in her head, way beyond anything her mind could conjure.

#soft annie x brady coming right up #with a side of a sucker punch to the heart #annie u deserve only the best things im crying for you!!!! #ANNIE (insert sobbing emoji) #alexa play loml by taylor swift (was listening to this as i wrote bc her family is in fact the loss of annie's life - but that's for anothe #time) gahhhhhh :'( #really loved digging into the annie bradshaw mentality here bc there's so much to uncover #and more importantly WHY brady is so important for her character development #ANYWAY!! (thanks for coming to my tedtalk) #annie bradshaw #john brady #annie x brady #masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #soft!john brady is the death of me: confirmed #john brady and the need to care for others instead of himself #annie bradshaw and the need to care for others instead of herself #her and brady together: intense caring for each other (distant screaming!) #THANK YOU LOVELY!!!! <333333 #annie and her perpetual cold hands