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fvsm4x · 5 months

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#MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE? [Gojo Satoru] part II

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything, who was your will to live, broke up with you.

— C.W: ex-boyfriend! Gojo satoru x depressed! female reader , Geto Suguru x female reader , dark themes , no happy ending w gojo , no curses au.

— WORD COUNT: 5.1k+

— A/N: I was supposed to finish this next week but- oh well..I hope you like it.

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read part I for better understanding

It has been several months since your breakup with Gojo, and you find yourself still living with Geto. Despite the change in your relationship status, your bad habits are still there. However, there is a silver lining to this situation - you no longer struggle as much as you have, because you no longer have the burden of paying the bills due time.

At first, you felt guilty about letting Geto pay the financial responsibility alone. You insisted on contributing your fair share. However, Geto, being the persuasive individual he is, somehow managed to convince you otherwise. He made a compelling argument, suggesting that it would be wiser for you to save up the money you earn through your work. By doing so, you would have the means to purchase necessary items for yourself in the future.

But in return geto wanted you to go grocery shopping and cook meals for him. It became a daily routine for you to venture out and purchase the necessary ingredients. Despite the repetitive nature of this task, you never complained. After all, Geto had provided you with a roof over your head and so much more. It was your way of expressing gratitude and repaying him for his generosity.

Living with Geto turned out to be a pleasant experience. He was not only caring but also incredibly kind. Whenever you found yourself in the midst of a mental breakdown, he was there to offer support. His comforting presence was like a soothing balm for your troubled mind. He would hold you close, whispering words of reassurance and understanding into your ear, doing whatever it took to make you feel okay again.

One incident that truly showcased Geto's empathy and understanding was when you were cutting yourself in the bathroom. Instead of scolding you or telling you to stop, he patiently waited behind the closed door until you had calmed down. Only then would he enter, carefully addressing your wounds with a gentle touch. It was evident that he understood the pain of depression and the toll it took on one's well-being.

After all - he had once also experienced depression.

Today, as usual, you found yourself needing to go shopping for fresh ingredients. With a shopping bag in hand, you left the room and made your way to the door that led outside.

Before stepping out, you reached for the jacket hanging near the door. It was Geto's jacket. Although you had your own jacket, Geto insisted that you wear his to protect yourself from the cold. It was that time of year when snowflakes gracefully fell from the sky and the air had a biting chill to it.

At first, Geto had wanted to buy you a new jacket, but you kindly declined, not wanting him to spend any more money on you. Instead, he offered you the option of wearing his jacket.

And so, you found yourself slipping into his jacket, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort as you prepared to face the wintry weather outside.

You stepped outside, and were greeted by a winter wonderland. The world around you was transformed into a picturesque scene straight out of a postcard. The ground was blanketed in a pristine layer of snow, untouched by footprints. The trees stood tall and proud, their branches adorned with delicate icicles that shimmered in the soft sunlight. The air was crisp and invigorating, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and the promise of a magical day ahead.

As you made your way through the snowy landscape, you couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty that surrounded you. The snowflakes gently fell from the sky, dancing and twirling as they made their descent, creating a mesmerizing spectacle. Each flake was unique, with intricate patterns and delicate edges that seemed to defy the laws of nature.

The sound of your footsteps crunching in the snow echoed through the stillness, breaking the silence and adding a touch of life to the serene atmosphere. The cold air nipped at your cheeks.

The sight of children building snowmen and families engaged in friendly snowball fights filled your heart with a bittersweet mix of joy and longing. The laughter and playful shouts echoed through the air, creating an atmosphere of pure happiness. It reminded you of the times you had dreamt of a future with gojo, imagining what it would be like to have children of your own, to experience these simple joys as a family.

But reality hit you hard, like a cold gust of wind cutting through your thoughts. Gojo had moved on, finding happiness with someone else. It was a painful truth that you had to accept, even though it still stung deep within. The image of Gojo laughing and playing in the snow with that girl flashed in your mind, a reminder that he had chosen a different path, a different future.

You took a deep breath, pushing away the thoughts that threatened to dampen your spirits.

„Y/n?“ a voice spoke from behind. Your eyes widened as you saw him standing there, your ex, with his signature white hair, piercing sky blue eyes, and tall frame. It was Gojo, the person who had once held your heart in his hands.

He stood before you, his gaze scanning your form before settling on your face. The intensity of his stare made you feel both nervous and vulnerable. You instinctively took a step back, creating a physical distance between you. Gojo noticed your retreat and froze, his eyes narrowing as he tried to decipher your reaction. Your slightly closed eyes and the way you avoided his gaze spoke volumes, revealing the pain and longing that still lingered within you.

“Gojo…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you nervously fidgeted with the collar of your jacket. The mention of his name caused Gojo’s eyes to drop, a mixture of guilt and regret washing over his features. He had always been used to being called by his first name, but hearing his last name from your lips felt like a painful reminder of the distance that now existed between you.

“How are you?” he asked, attempting to regain eye contact with you.

“I’m okay… I guess,” you replied, finally meeting his gaze. Gojo took a step forward, closing the physical gap between you. His hand gently rested on both of your shoulders, sending a wave of shivers down your spine. The touch was both familiar and foreign, stirring up a mix of emotions within you. You felt nervous, almost scared, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected encounter.

“Listen, I’m sorry for… you know… that we fired you from work. It was really not my intention,” Gojo apologized. You interrupted him, trying to downplay the significance of his actions.

“It’s fine, I forgive you,” you said, your voice lacking conviction. You tried your best to ignore the warmth of his hands on your shoulders, focusing on maintaining your composure. Gojo’s eyes widened as he observed your dropped gaze, uncertain if you were truly okay with what had transpired.

“What?” he asked again, his fingers tightening around your shoulders. That’s when he noticed your jacket, a sense of familiarity washing over him. His fingers instinctively moved to the back of your neck, pulling down the collar to read the name written there.

Geto Suguru.

His best friend’s name was emblazoned on the collar of the jacket you were wearing. It suddenly dawned on him that this was not your jacket, but Geto’s. The scent of Geto’s cologne lingered faintly, intertwining with your own. Gojo’s eyebrows furrowed as a whirlwind of thoughts flooded his mind. Was this some sort of revenge? Did you pursue Geto to get back at him, to gain his attention? How did Geto even know about your breakup, despite Gojo never mentioning it to him?

He never expected you to move on so quickly. He knew you had your fair share of struggles, and he had always been the one to bring light into your life. He had believed that you would do anything for him. But the realization that you had seemingly moved on so swiftly ignited a pang of jealousy within him. He had a girlfriend now, he shouldn’t feel this way. His girlfriend was better for him than you, but the sight of you wearing Geto’s jacket still managed to stir something deep within him.

The way you shivered under his touch made him quickly withdraw his hands. “I said it’s okay, I forgive you,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

“So, you and Suguru?” he asked, ignoring your response. You raised an eyebrow, ready to answer his question, but before you could speak, your phone began to ring. You quickly retrieved it from your pocket, glancing at the caller ID.

Suguru.

Gojo awkwardly stood there, his gaze shifting between you and the phone in your hand. He couldn’t help but notice that the phone you were holding was different from the one he had once bought you. The mark on the phone indicated that it was a cheaper model, a flip phone, unlike the expensive one he had gifted you. Confusion washed over him as he wondered why you would exchange a high-end phone for a cheaper alternative.

Little did he know that you had sold the phone he had given you out of necessity. You had run out of money and needed to pay the bills for the motel you were staying in. Desperate times had forced you to part with the precious gift, opting for a more affordable option.

After answering the call, you quickly excused yourself, explaining that you needed to go buy groceries. However, before you could make your way out, Gojo reached out and gently grabbed your arm, in which you hissed.

"Wait," he said, "Are you and Suguru dating?" His question hung in the air, his eyes searching yours for any hint of confirmation or denial.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain the situation. "No, Gojo," you replied, your voice soft but firm. "I just live with him. We're roommates."

Gojo's grip on your arm loosened slightly, his expression shifting from confusion to relief. The relief was evident in his eyes, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"I see," he said, "I'm glad to hear that." There was a brief pause between the two of you as you tried to progress what he just said.

Why would Gojo be glad to hear that you and Geto weren't dating? As you tried to process his reaction, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, extending it towards you.

"Uh, since you live with Suguru, it must be bothersome for you," he stammered, struggling to find the right words. "Take this apartment key. It's for you, as an apology for getting you fired."

You hesitated, unsure of what to do. You didn't want anything from Gojo, especially not as a form of apology. "I'm fine being with Suguru. I don't need this key," you replied, pressing it back into his chest. You turned around, ready to walk away and put this painful encounter behind you.

But before you could take another step, Gojo's voice called out, desperation lacing his words. "Wait, please take it!" His hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, causing you to flinch. The pain from the cuts on your arms intensified, and tears welled up in your eyes.

You quickly shrugged off his hand, wanting to escape the physical pain. As you looked up at Gojo, you saw his eyes downcast, filled with remorse. It hurt to see him like this, knowing that you still hadn't fully moved on from him. You wanted him to be happy, to see him smile, but it seemed like that was a distant dream.

"Okay, I'll take it. Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You reached out and took the key from his hand. With a heavy heart, you turned away from him, determined to focus on the task at hand. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go buy groceries."

"Right, uh... have a good day, Y/n!" Gojo called after you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you walked away,

—

"Suguru, I'm home," you called out, stepping into his house and slipping off your shoes and jacket. The familiar scent of Suguru's home enveloped you as you made your way to the living room, where Geto was lounging on the sofa, engrossed in a TV show.

"Welcome back," he greeted, turning his head to meet your gaze with a warm smile.

"I have some news," you announced, making your way to the kitchen to unload the groceries. Geto followed you, his curiosity piqued, and settled on a chair at the kitchen island, facing you.

As you began to unpack the grocery bag, placing items into the fridge, you tossed a bag of chips to Geto. He caught it effortlessly, his eyes lighting up with gratitude as he opened the bag and popped a chip into his mouth.

"So, what's the news?" he asked, his voice muffled by the chips.

"Well," you started, carefully choosing your words, "I found an apartment." You decided not to mention that it was Gojo who had bought it for you. The thought of Gojo's gesture still stirred up conflicting emotions within you.

Geto's eyebrows raised,"Where is it?"

You continued to organize the groceries, avoiding eye contact as you replied, "It's not too far from here, and it‘s quite big too, so if you want you can move in with me. You know, it‘s really nice to finally have someone who cares for me other than satoru.." you trailed off.

You mustered the courage to look back at Geto's face, and your heart skipped a beat at the wide-open eyes staring back at you. "You want me to move in with you...?" he asked,

"Yeah... I'm afraid I got attached to you... sorry," you muttered, your hands finding their way onto the counter as you looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

Geto was taken aback by your confession. He had always known about your deep love for Satoru, as you would often seek solace in his room after a nightmare, finding comfort in his presence. In those vulnerable moments, you would whisper Satoru's name as you fell asleep, leaving Geto to silently bear the weight of unrequited love.

From the moment he first laid eyes on you, fate seemed to have decided that he would fall in love with you. But to his surprise, you were already dating his best friend when you first crossed paths. He had initially dismissed you as one of Satoru's chicks, assuming that you would be discarded after a short while. But it turned out that your relationship with Satoru was serious, and his heart couldn't help but ache with jealousy.

He couldn't help but steal glances at the way you looked at Satoru, the admiration in your eyes and the way your lips curved into a smile whenever he was around. It made him envious, but he knew he had no right to feel that way towards his best friend. So he buried his own feelings and pretended to like you only as a friend, even though his heart yearned for more.

As time went on, Geto began to notice a change in Satoru's behavior. The manwhore tendencies he had abandoned when you and he started dating seemed to resurface. It was as if he had grown tired of the commitment and started seeking the attention of other women right in front of Geto's eyes.

The pain of witnessing Satoru's infidelity gnawed at Geto's heart. He wanted to protect you, to tell you about Satoru's behaviour, but he couldn't bear the thought of hurting you with those words. He knew how deeply attached you were to Satoru, how you would forgive him for every transgression, even something as devastating as cheating. You simply couldn't let him go.

Until one day, the inevitable happened. The two of you broke up.

The news hit Geto like a punch to the gut. On one hand, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of relief that you were no longer tied to Satoru's unfaithfulness. But on the other hand, he knew that your heart would be shattered, and he couldn't bear the thought of seeing you in pain.

You stood there in the kitchen, glare dropped as you mentioned your ex‘s name. Geto's heart ached for you. He wanted to offer comfort, to hold you close and assure you that everything would be okay. But he knew that the wounds were fresh, and he would have to tread carefully, waiting for the right moment to reveal his own feelings.

For now, all he could do was be there for you, offering a shoulder to lean on and a listening ear.

„Sure..I can move in with you if that‘s what you would like.“ he spoke, forcing a smile.

Your eyes immediately lightened up as you heard his words,“really?“ you asked.

Geto nodded, his smile growing wider as he saw the genuine happiness radiating from your face. "Yes, really," he replied,“I want to be there for you, to support you and care for you in ways that Satoru couldn't."

A wave of gratitude washed over you as you realized the depth of Geto's commitment. It was a stark contrast to the fleeting affection you had experienced with Satoru. You had always yearned for someone who would truly see you, who would cherish and prioritize your happiness above all else. And now, standing before you, was Geto, offering you just that.

A mixture of emotions swirled within you - excitement, relief, and a tinge of sadness for the end of your relationship with Satoru. You took a step closer to Geto, your eyes locked with his, as you whispered, "Thank you. Thank you for being here for me."

Geto's smile softened,"You don't have to thank me," he replied gently.

No.

No. No. No..

What is this?

This is not what Gojo expected when he entered his apartment after being away for a week. The first thing he heard were moans coming from his and his girlfriend's bedroom, and immediately he made his way there to investigate. What he saw was something he never could have imagined. His girlfriend, completely naked, was on top of someone else, riding them on their shared bed where they used to make love. It was a scene that shattered his heart and left him feeling betrayed.

She was cheating on him.

Gojo stood frozen by the door, his eyes wide with shock, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, and his once joyful smile replaced by a look of pain.

As he looked at the girl who had been his girlfriend just moments ago, Gojo couldn't help but draw parallels between her and you. The guilt he had felt then was nothing compared to the remorse that now gnawed at his soul.

In that moment, he couldn't fully comprehend the impact of his actions, but now, as he stood in that bedroom, he felt the weight of his betrayal crashing down upon him.

Gojo's gaze shifted from his ex-girlfriend to the guy who had been underneath her. A surge of jealousy and insecurity coursed through him, as he couldn't help but compare himself to this unknown person. Who was he? What did he possess that Gojo lacked? The comparison was inevitable, and it only added fuel to the fire of pain that already consumed him. Doubts gnawed at his mind, questioning his worthiness and wondering if he had failed to measure up, if he had been inadequate in some way.

The room felt suffocating. Gojo's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the shattered love and trust that lay in ruins.

Gojo stormed into the bedroom, his anger and hurt fueling his every step. The force with which he swung the door open was a reflection of the turmoil raging within him, a physical manifestation of the chaos that had erupted in his life. His eyes, filled with a mix of desperation and fury, locked onto the figure lying beneath his now ex-girlfriend.

"Satoru, wait!" the girl cried out, her voice laced with panic and fear, as she was pushed away from the person beneath her. But Gojo was beyond reason, consumed by a maelstrom of emotions that drowned out any pleas for mercy.

Gojo lunged forward, his hand shooting out to seize a handful of her hair. The pain of his grip was a stark contrast to the tenderness he had once shown her, a cruel reminder of the power he held over her in that moment. Their eyes locked, and in that intense gaze, he saw her pupils constrict, a sign of both fear and resignation. Her lower lip quivered, a silent plea for him to release her from his grasp.

But Gojo was deaf to her pleas, his grip on her hair only tightening as she desperately tried to free herself. The sound of her voice, trembling with vulnerability, fell upon deaf ears as he murmured a single word, "Why..." His voice was filled with a mix of confusion and betrayal, unmoved by the smaller hands that desperately attempted to pry his hold loose.

And then, like a dagger to his heart, she uttered the words that shattered his world. "I'm sorry! I found someone else—I love him... please, let go!" Her voice trembled with a mixture of guilt and desperation, her words echoing in the air like a painful confession.

The weight of those words crashed into Gojo's consciousness like a tidal wave, the impact reverberating through his entire being. Found someone else...? The realization hit him with a force that stole the breath from his lungs. These were the same words he had once spoken to you, the words that had torn your world apart.

As if struck by lightning, Gojo released his grip on her hair, his hand falling limply to his side. He stepped back, his eyes filled with a mix of shock and disbelief. The girl, now free from his hold, collapsed onto the bed, her body crumpling under the weight of the emotional turmoil that had unfolded before her.

Was this the same anguish you had felt when he had confessed he had found someone else? Did he truly forsake someone as remarkable as you for this girl? The weight of his actions settled heavily upon his shoulders, a burden he could no longer ignore.

As he turned away from the girl and the person she had been with, Gojo's mind became a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs. Memories of your time together flashed before his eyes, each one a painful reminder of what he had lost. The pain of his own betrayal and the pain he had inflicted upon you mingled within him, creating a storm of guilt and remorse.

Gojo found himself in the living room, his body sinking into the couch as he attempted to make sense of it all. The weight of betrayal pressed upon him, threatening to crush him beneath its burden. It was as if his entire world had crumbled in an instant, leaving him feeling adrift and broken.

His mind was swirling with regrets and unanswered questions, he couldn't help but wonder if there was any way to mend what had been irreparably broken. Could he ever earn back your trust? Could he ever make amends for the pain he had caused? The questions plagued his thoughts, but the answers remained elusive.

With a heavy heart weighing him down, Gojo rose from the comfort of the couch and made his way towards the front door. The weight of his emotions pushed him to leave, to escape the haunting memories that seemed to linger within the walls of the apartment. His mind was consumed by a single thought - he needed to find you, to apologize before it was too late. Perhaps, just maybe, you would find it in your heart to forgive him.

However, little did Gojo know that time was not on his side. As he hurriedly made his way to the apartment he had given you, a place that was meant to be his girlfriend’s sanctuary, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that he had entrusted you with the key instead. The thought of seeing you again, of having the chance to make things right, gave him a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that surrounded him.

Arriving at the apartment, Gojo rushed up the stairs, his mind filled with a whirlwind of thoughts about what he would say when he finally saw you. His hand instinctively reached into his pocket, grasping onto the spare keys that he had kept for emergencies. With a mix of anticipation and anxiety, he approached the door that was supposed to lead him to you. Taking a deep breath, he inserted the key into the lock, turning it slowly and opening the door.

However, instead of being greeted by an empty room, Gojo found himself standing in the midst of a completely transformed space. The apartment had undergone a complete renovation, a stark contrast to the memories he had held onto. But amidst the unfamiliar surroundings, his eyes were drawn to something that instantly caught his attention - clothes scattered across the floor. A shirt, two pairs of pants, and a bra lay haphazardly, creating a puzzle that Gojo couldn’t help but try to piece together.

Confusion furrowed his brow as he pondered the presence of the bra on the floor. If there was no sound of moaning or clapping, then it meant that you didn’t have anyone over, right? But the pants… they were definitely not yours. They were too wide, too different from your usual style. Gojo’s gaze swept the room, searching for answers, before he made his way through the apartment, his steps guided by an unexplainable instinct.

He stopped in front of a closed door, hesitating for a moment before gently pushing it open, revealing a sight that shattered his heart into a million pieces. His eyes widened in disbelief as they landed on Geto, his best friend, lying in bed with you cradled in his arms. The sight of Geto’s upper body, partially exposed, showcased his muscular chest and abs, while your figure rested against him, your shoulders and neck adorned with small, telltale bruises. Both of you were fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the presence of another person standing by the door.

A mixture of shock, betrayal, and anger coursed through Gojo’s veins as he tried to comprehend what he was witnessing. Why was Geto here? He had always been aware of Geto’s secret crush on you, but he had never expected his best friend to make a move, especially not with you. The pain in Gojo’s heart intensified as he saw you, the person he believed to be his and his alone, in someone else’s arms, covered in another person’s kisses and bruises.

Gojo stood there, his heart heavy with disbelief and heartbreak. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. Was it too late? Was there no way to fix what he had done?

Suddenly, a voice broke through his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. It was his best friend, looking at him with a mix of concern and frustration. Gojo's eyes met his, and he could see the unspoken question in them.

"You gonna continue staring or what?" his best friend asked, his tone slightly teasing.

Gojo's emotions surged, and he couldn't hold back the words any longer. "You did it on purpose, didn't you? You waited for the moment she was vulnerable so you could swoop in and be her hero. All in the hope of leading her into bed."

His fists clenched, and he wiped away the tears with the back of his sleeve. His best friend remained calm, his gaze steady. "I'm merely doing what you couldn't. I'm here for her, offering support and care in ways you never could, Satoru."

Gojo's anger flared, and he shouted, "What do you mean?!" But his best friend cut him off, his voice firm but gentle.

"Don't shout, she's had a tough night and deserves some rest," he said, covering you with a blanket.

"You act like you're some kind of savior. What gives you the right to step in and play hero in her life?"

His best friend sighed, meeting Gojo's gaze with unwavering resolve. "I'm doing it because she deserves genuine care and someone who will love her just the way she does."

Gojo's eyes widened, his mouth falling open in disbelief. "I love her just the way she does!"

"If you did," his best friend calmly replied, "you wouldn't have cheated on her multiple times and then left her for someone else."

The accusation hung heavily in the air, shattering any pretense of composure between the two friends. Gojo felt the weight of his best friend's words, realizing the depth of the hurt he had caused. The room seemed to echo with the fractured friendship and the complex emotions entangled in this unexpected confrontation.

"I never wanted things to turn out like this," Gojo confessed, his voice filled with regret. "What do you expect me to do now?"

His best friend's gaze hardened, his voice firm. "Face the consequences of your actions, Satoru. But understand this: she doesn't want anything to do with you now. Give up and let her find the happiness she deserves elsewhere."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Gojo struggled to find a response, a knot forming in his stomach. His best friend continued, his voice softer this time.

"She moved on, Satoru," he said, his eyes filled with a mix of empathy and deception. "You broke her trust, and she's found someone who treats her with the respect and love she deserves. Don't complicate her life any further."

Gojo's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists as the realization hit him. The person beneath the blanket, blissfully unaware of the turmoil surrounding them, remained a symbol of the consequences of his actions.

"I messed up, I know that," Gojo admitted, his voice filled with remorse. "But I can't just give up on her."

His best friend's expression hardened. "Giving up isn't about abandoning her; it's about respecting her choices. She doesn't want you in her life anymore. Accept that and move forward."

"You had your chance, Satoru. Now it's time to let her go," his best friend said, his voice filled with finality.

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astraystayyh · 2 months

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Burning in the winter wind

changbin x reader. (fake) enemies to lovers. hurt/comfort but it’s a light fluffy read!! college!au. lowkey romcom vibes (i tried 😭) wc: 4.4k)

summary : Sustaining an ankle injury during a ski retreat isn't fun. Especially when Seo Changbin volunteers to stay back to tend to you- the one man you can never get a read on.

a.n: sahar finally writing a fic that doesn’t take an emotional turn… we cheered!!!!!!!!!!!!! my 3rd fic for the winter falls collab with my writer :,) if u haven’t checked out xi’s fics yet what are u waiting for!!!!! please enjoy reading, i hope you’ll like this one too <3 i love you muah

“Are you okay?”

It is quite difficult to roll your eyes when your face is pressed against the snow, you’ve found, so much so you're sure you’re breathing in dainty snowflakes rather than the intended oxygen.

A dull pain emanates from your right ankle, the very one you just twisted while attempting to ski down a sled, making you plummet head-first into the hard ground. Despite how soft snow looks as it blankets the earth in a pristine white, it is quite incapable of cradling your fall. Instead, its snowflakes seem to liquefy, filtrating through your clothes and making a biting cold cascade down your spine.

Clearly, you are far from okay; hence, your eyes roll in a silent protest at the stranger’s questioning, though they cannot see you. If you further bury your head in the snow and do not move, would they think you are a collective hallucination and spare you the embarrassment of helping you?

“Um, should we call an ambulance?”

Clearly not.

“I'm peachy!” you throw a thumbs-up in the air, not bothering to lift your face off of the ground, you’re sure that by now the blank canvas beneath you has reluctantly molded itself to the contours of your face.

Much prettier than a snowman, you’d personally argue.

“Are you sure?” the tentative voice quips up again and you suddenly feel bad for ignoring this passerby, now stuck comforting an odd person whose limbs are not adequately crafted for skiing.

“Yeah,” you finally turn around, realizing that the pain in your ankle will not disappear, even if you choose to ignore it. “Just resting, on the snow. The view is nice from here, you know.”

The stranger backs away subtly at your words, and you chuckle inwardly.

“I got it.” Someone else speaks from your left and their voice carries a familiarity that drapes an uncomfortable weight atop your lungs. You pivot your head incredibly slowly, locking eyes with none other than Changbin.

You scoff outwardly.

“Need help?” he asks, hovering above you like a shadow.

Changbin was once your partner in a lab chemistry project, he is also the one person you now avoid most in college.

So, you do what any sensible person would in your place— you turn away, once again pressing your face into the comforting oblivion of the snow.

“I… can still see you.” His words linger, hesitating in the crisp winter wind, and you respond with a (now more effortless) roll of your eyes.

“I know.”

“Then, what are you doing?”

“If I pretend you are not here long enough, will you finally tire and leave me alone?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you huff, turning back once more. You summon the resolve to finally push your torso up from the pits of your embarrassment, before glancing down at your ankle, only to find that it has doubled in size. An angry scream bubbles up in your throat, but you will yourself to tame the fire within— if you think slightly more about your situation, you’d burst into tears right here and then.

“That needs to be treated,” Changbin states simply, his eyes also locked on your injury. You shut your eyes closed, forcing a deep breath to travel through your lungs. The oxygen you just inhaled seems only to fuel your anger more.

“I actually think it’s fine,” you put on the brightest smile on your face, yet your eyes refuse to follow the movement of your lips, making you look like a catatonic doll. You hope that’s enough to make Changbin go away.

“Who are you lying to?” he cocks an eyebrow at you.

You’re wrong. Again.

His self-assured tone further aggravates you, so you will yourself to stand up, wincing as soon as your right foot touches the floor. You bite your lip hard enough to draw out blood, the metallic taste of it coating your tongue uncomfortably.

“See, I can stand!” you say cheerfully and he crosses his arms before his chest, clearly unimpressed. “Try walking.”

“I actually wanna stay here.”

“Still as stubborn, I see,” he sighs, before bending his knees slightly. Next thing you know, you’re scooped up in his arms, your hands wrapping around his neck instantly.

“What are you doing?” you ask incredulously, eyes darting furiously over his face.

“Carrying you to the infirmary.”

“I can see that,” you say between your teeth. “I said I'm fine.”

“You clearly aren’t.”

“What are you? an ankle expert?”

“When your parents own the ski resort you kind of become one,” his eyes meet yours once, still as emotionless as they’ve always been when they gaze at you.

“Do your parents own this?” you clear your throat, surprise overtaking your tone.

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell them to upgrade my room to a suit, then?” you bat your eyelashes at him, your smile as sweet as saccharin.

“You literally buried your head in the snow two minutes ago because you wanted me gone.”

“Exactly,” you nod vigorously, “that was two minutes ago, I am a changed person now.”

“Yeah?” he smirks slightly, the corners of his mouth almost tugging upwards. “What changed?”

You shrug as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn't know your parents owned the resort.”

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“It's not broken, thankfully, just sprained. You need to ice it, and not put any pressure on it. Keep your leg elevated at all times, and avoid walking at all costs.” Maria’s voice reaches your ears in waves, the pain in your ankle making it harder to grasp what she’s instructing you to do. Still, you easily understand that all your winter break plans are now officially ruined.

“But I wanna ski,” you pout at the fifty-something nurse who smiles sympathetically at you, handing you a cooling balm.

“You shouldn’t have fallen then.” Changbin deadpans before she can reply and your right eye squints in annoyance. Maria catches it and winks at you.

“You shouldn’t have fallen then,” you mimic, voice high-pitched. He simply shakes his head, a ghost of a smile appearing for a second on his lips, before disappearing promptly.

“Thank you, Maria,” he bows slightly, his voice sounding kinder when it speaks to everyone but you.

“Welcome, baby,” she squishes his cheeks before patting them gently, and you stifle a giggle at the blush sprouting on his face.

Maria leaves the room, stating that she has another patient to check up on. Your eyes remain downcast, glaring at your ankle as if it’ll scare your body back to health.

“You'll burn a hole into your skin at this rate,” he comments, his hand suddenly appearing in your line of view. You sigh in defeat before reaching for his hand, intertwining fingers as he aids you in rising. His arm becomes a secure anchor around your waist as he guides you toward the elevator. There, he inputs a code on a small panel before pressing button 44.

“That's not where my chamber’s at.”

“I know, I had them move your stuff to the penthouse,” he explains simply as your heart skips a traitorous beat.

“Actually? I was just kidding; I don't want an upgraded room.”

“I wanted to,” his eyes locked on yours, a myriad of stars seemingly swimming in his pupils. “It has easier access for you since it opens up directly in the room.”

“I'll pay you back. How much is the difference?”

He leans in, whispering a six-figure number in your ear and you feel your knees buckle underneath you.

“That much?” your face pales and he nods. “You still want to pay me back?”

A nervous chuckle leaves you as you lock eyes with the camera in the elevator, “thank you Mrs. Seo for the gift,” you bow down to the best of your capacity. “Thank you, Mr. Seo.”

The penthouse is much more spacious than your previous room, vast windows framing breathtaking vistas of pristine mountains. The sound of a crackling fireplace tames the fire within you, morphing it into a harmless ember rather than scorching flames, soothing your soul. A chandelier right above the bed casts a warm glow on the room, that softens your heart and makes you less resentful towards the snow.

“Here,” he sits you down on the edge of the bed, before heading to the mini-fridge across from the room. He takes out a packet of ice before promptly kneeling in front of you.

“It'll be a little cold,” he reassures before placing the ice on your wound. the sarcastic retort you had withers at the tip of your tongue, like a candle flame blown away by a gentle breeze; because Changbin is being gentle to you right now. his eyebrows scrunching as he makes sure not to hurt you even more, his fingers encircling just above your ankle to hold you in place. Clad in his black hoodie and joggers, the tenderness of his touch is an echo of softness from days long past.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hoping your voice would get lost in the crinkling of the wood. It doesn’t, as Changbin looks up at you, pausing his movements. “For helping me,” you add, “you didn’t have to do it.”

“It's okay. You’re not a stranger, so…” he trails off, as a buried bitterness floods your throat, akin to downing a shot of acid. You withdraw your ankle from his hold, taking the ice packet from him.

“You can go, I got it,” you smile, yet your eyes flee away from him, refusing to catch his gaze, refusing to peer into that same void that once lured you in.

“Fine. I'll come check on you later.”

As Changbin swiftly exits the penthouse, you sink into the mattress, hands pressed against your forehead, squeezing tight. to Seo Changbin, you were not a stranger. To you, he might have been everything, once.

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

You first met Changbin on the stage of your nationwide rap contest, held within the confines of your campus.

You did not know he was, but you were instantly captivated by his incendiary stage presence, and so was everyone around you, gleaming eyes turned unanimously toward him, the air ablaze with loud cheers erupting like a bubbling volcano. The question at the tip of your tongue was a natural one— “Who the fuck is this gorgeous man?”

It was as though he had sensed your inquiry, because soon after he concluded his rap with a boastful line— “They call me,” a pause, his eyes meeting yours, “Seo Changbin,” he finished, a subtle smirk painted on his lips, as if he knew that his name would become a golden trademark, one that the music world would remember for generations to come.

His gaze lingered on you, but you did not shy away from it, you’ve never been one to run away from the things you want. Instead, you smiled at him, a toothy grin that left your cheeks slightly aching afterward.

He did not return the gesture fully, but the corners of his lips did tug upwards, as he dipped his head slightly forward in thanks.

Cute.

You stayed back long enough to witness Changbin accept his well-deserved first place award, clad in his gray joggers, a snug black tank top, and atop it a deconstructed hoodie boasting enticing holes on the side, giving you a generous view of his sculpted muscles. His silver chains glimmered under the resounding flashes, and you felt a surge of pride at this stranger basking in the spotlight.

Your smile only grew wider as Chan and Jisung ran to him, encircling him in his arms and shaking him with palpable happiness. Thunderous cheers erupted, a chorus of voices chanting 'Seo Changbin' at the top of their lungs.

His name will stay with you long after that.

“So, is he single?” you inquired casually a few days later in the university cafeteria, three cups of iced americano placed before you, Chan’s extra sweetened. The latter looked up from his phone, eyes slightly widening, before leaning in.

“You like Changbin?” he asked incredulously and you squint your eyes, moving even closer to him.

“Why? Shouldn’t I?”

“I'm just surprised because you’ve never liked any of the guys I introduced you to.”

“Because they’re all douchebags who can’t keep up with me,” you declared, tossing your hair over your shoulder as Chan smiled amusedly.

“Hey! He introduced me to you,” Jisung chimed in from your left and you rolled your eyes, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “We’re better off as friends, Ji.”

That was true, your first, and last date with Jisung, ended up with you ordering sushi and laughing at your Tinder matches at an empty parking lot. He's been one of your closest friends ever since.

“Are we?” Jisung made obnoxious kissing noises and you faked a gag, pinching his arm. Han retaliated by yelling so loudly the entirety of the cafeteria turned to look at you. Chan attempted to cover his face with his palm, a desolated look painted on his features.

“Anyways,” Jisung cleared his throat once he settled again, “he is single. But he’s not looking for anything right now.”

“Maybe he just hasn’t looked at me yet.”

Fate seemed to be on your side because Changbin did look at you after that. Your professor Kim, an unwitting cupid, paired you with him for your chemistry project, and for the following month, you found yourself meeting Changbin every day in the college laboratory, to work on the synthesis and characterization of aspirin.

Changbin was different from anyone you’ve ever taken a liking to. He did not stir violent butterflies in your stomach, nor made your palms sweat endlessly from nerves. Instead, he infused a peculiar serenity within you, enough to make you eagerly count down the minutes until your next meeting.

Contrary to the fiery persona he unleashed on stage, Changbin exuded a calming aura that held you captive each time he drew near. It was impossible to divert your gaze from him, especially when his loose curls cascaded perfectly over his dark brown eyes, ones framed by thick-rimmed black glasses. His scent, a captivating blend of pinewood and spices, lingered like a second skin on your body, trailing after him and enveloping you in its embrace, long after he was gone.

He felt like a winter wind brushing against your skin—strong enough to be felt, yet cool enough to be craved by each one of your senses.

You sensed his gaze upon you as well, felt the subtle brush of his hand against your spine when he moved around you, unnecessary yet deliberate. How he brought you hot chocolate every time you met up to warm up your icy fingers. He was sweet and caring; in a way you’d only notice if you paid attention to the things said silently.

Yet, he remained an enigma—warm on certain days, cold on others. It seemed as if he restrained himself from growing comfortable in your presence, as if you were a bad weed that’d spread through his roots if he dared approach you. Or maybe that was how he viewed himself— a delicate shell with a void inside, guarding itself against any perceived threat.

Who was Changbin, truly? What did he like and dislike? Why did he withhold his smiles, stifle his laughter, and avert his eyes after just a fleeting glance at you? Why did he draw near only to retreat each time you attempted to get close? The questions swirled in your mind, creating a tapestry of curiosity that begged to be unraveled by his hands.

“Wanna come to karaoke with me and hang out tonight?” Chan asked a week after the end of your chemistry project. You hummed non-convincingly, nose buried in your newly purchased book.

“Changbin might come too,” he sang-sung and you quickly perked up, much more interested in his plans now. He snorted at your reaction, and in response, you playfully flashed him your prettiest middle finger.

Chan's disbelief was right though. It was unusual of you to be so expectant of someone’s presence, for your gaze to flee to the door every two seconds awaiting their entrance.

Despite your high hopes, Changbin did not come that night, and as much as you tried to have fun, a sense of disappointment tainted your mood. That, and the realization that he wasn't a mere crush, but something much more to you. The man you couldn’t get a read on was already coursing through your veins when you thought he had only stopped at the surface of your skin.

Muttering a quick excuse about needing some fresh air, you left the karaoke booth, exhaling heavily, the warmth of your breath translating into silver gusts of air in the chilly night. As you descended the stairs, however, your ankle twisted on the slippery ice, and you found yourself falling, bottom-first, onto the unforgiving concrete.

An ugly sob caught in your throat as hot tears streaked down your cheeks, your palm now scraped and bloody from the impact of the fall, in a useless attempt to soften the blow.

“Let me see,” someone crouched in front of you, and you gasped softly as your eyes met Changbin's concerned gaze.

“Oh god, this is so embarrassing,” you admitted, clasping your eyes shut as he gently held your injured hand in his own, blowing air into the open cuts to soothe their burn.

“I didn't see anything,” he reassured, his tone overly sweet, and you squint your eyes at his obvious lies. “Definitely did not see you trip over nothing,” he added, a teasing smirk drawn on his lips.

“Hey!” you punched his arm playfully and he laughed, full-blown high-pitched giggles you did not think Changbin, out of everybody you knew, would be able to conjure. His eyes were squinted close, his apple cheeks raising higher as he laughed some more, and you felt an electrifying warmth flowing through your being. Suddenly, you were burning in the winter wind.

Suddenly, you wanted to confess.

“Did you just get possessed by a five-year-old girl?” you teased as his laughter quieted down, the smile refusing to leave his face, yet. His eyes softened as they found yours, a simple hum leaving his lips in reply. He applied some pressure on your ankle, checking if it is swollen, but that was the last thing you cared about. The sight of Changbin smiling so freely still running through your mind, again and again. You replayed it enough times since to make sure it was safely guarded in your memory, that the long march of time may not wear it down, graining its delicate edges.

“You should smile more,” you said softly and he looked up at you, a twinkle of gratitude gleaming in his eyes.

“Your ankle is fine. Stay here, okay? I have a first aid kit in my car.” He didn’t wait for you to reply as he jogged up to his vehicle, and you sighed, heart clenching at how affected you were by his simple touches.

“It will sting a little,” he spoke gently once he returned, before dabbing up your cut slightly with an alcohol-drenched pad. You hissed softly and he frowned, pausing in his tracks. “Okay?”

“Mm,” you nodded, a small smile playing on your lips, “Okay.”

He continued cleaning your cuts, before applying a cooling cream on it and wrapping it in a clean gauze. He hesitated for a few seconds and your breath hitched as he leaned forward, placing the faintest kiss on your palm.

“Healing kiss,” he said shyly, a blush blooming on his face and you giggled, bringing his hand to rest upon your cheek.

“I like you, Changbin,” you said truthfully, simply, even as your heart thudded in your chest. “Tell me, should I stop? I don't want to hurt myself.”

“I…” he began, his words trailing off, interrupted by Chan walking out of the karaoke booth.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked, worry clearly dripping from his tone and you cursed inwardly. You loved Chan but you’ve never been more annoyed to see him. Your eyes flee tentatively to Changbin as Chan takes your hand in his, inspecting it.

“Let's go inside, it’s freezing here,” Chan pulled you up and you nodded, as Changbin followed suit, before he stopped you by the door, his hand on your arm. “Come over tomorrow, please? We can talk then.”

“Sure,” you smiled and he nodded, swiping his thumb soothingly along your wrist. “Thank you,” he whispered, before walking inside.

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

The landline ringing snaps you away from that long-buried memory, as it disappears before your eyes like morning mist. You rub your forehead tiredly before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hello, I would like to inform you that we'll be coming up with food service shortly,” the sweet receptionist announces in a cheery tone, and you furrow your brow.

“I did not order anything, though.”

“It is on the house. Enjoy your food!” she explains gleefully before hanging up.

On the house meaning it is Seo Changbin's treat. You couldn't help but scoff at the array of food presented before you minutes later, including that damned hot chocolate he always used to bring you, complete with marshmallows on top and colorful sprinkles because why settle for plain when you could have rainbows in your drink.

“He remembers,” ou whisper to yourself before sighing. What was the point of him remembering now? Every bit of hope you had was dismantled two months ago, akin to a hopeful dandelion blown away by the bitter wind.

You bite your lip, contemplating for a few seconds before finally dialing Changbin’s number.

“The food will get cold. Come quickly. I won't wait for you,” you mumble before hanging up and tossing your phone away.

A few minutes later, Changbin enters your room, his cologne still following him like a second shadow. You avoid his eyes as you dig into the seafood pasta, the one he ordered for you.

“Good?” he asks, and you glance at him from the corner of your eye. "Yeah, good."

“Are you okay?” he inquires, taking a bite of the pepperoni pizza.

You knew he was asking about your ankle, and yet, in this moment, sitting on the floor of the penthouse Changbin upgraded for you, eating the food he bought after tending to your injury, you suddenly no longer cared about the state of your body. Instead, an exasperation built up in your throat, directed towards the man who had left you hanging many nights ago.

“You confuse me,” you say honestly, putting down your fork and he frowns. “I confuse you?” he repeats incredulously.

“Yes. You always confuse me and I hate it.” Sudden tears threaten to well in your eyes and you groan, burying your face in a pillow to hide it.

“I can't believe you are saying this,” he whispers, pushing away his plate and you scowl, lowering your silky shield.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You never came, y/n,” His voice, draped in heavy emotion, catches you off guard like a sudden storm in the calm of the night. “I waited and waited for you and you never came.”

“I came,” you say quietly, the hurt suddenly feeling fresh within the confines of your heart. “At the wrong time, maybe the right one, I don't know. But I came.”

“What?”

“I came to your dorm only to see you kissing a girl’s cheek and hugging her by your door. You told her you missed her and to come later once you sorted something out. Was I… What? supposed to enter and sit there to hear you reject me?” You say quickly, finally releasing the words that had long haunted you.

An incredulous laugh escapes his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, slightly pulling at its edges. “My god, that was my sister.”

“What?”

“She came over unannounced that morning. I actually told her she can't stay the night because I had someone important coming over. That someone being you,” he explains and you feel hot embarrassment flood your being, then relief. For what, exactly? Wasn’t it too late?

“How was I supposed to know?” you ask defensively and his eyes widen as he comes closer to you.

“You could’ve asked me!”

“I was embarrassed because I put my heart bare to you. I told you I liked you when I wasn't even sure you liked me back.”

“Of course, I liked you back.” His voice softens as if it were a truth known to everyone but yourself.

“Then why were you so… distant.”

“Because you scared me, you came into my life unannounced and everything changed around me,” he pauses, a shaky breath escaping him. “Because I wasn’t looking for anything but it turns out I just didn’t know to look for you yet.”

You giggle against your will at his words, shaking your head slightly. “That's exactly what I told Chan when I asked if you were single.”

“See, soulmates,” he grins, satisfied, and you feel tingles pulsate through your entire being at his words.

“Slow down Mr. Seo. We are not even dating yet.”

“Yet? So, is there still a chance?”

“I…” your phone rings and you let out a loud groan as you peek at who's calling— Chan.

“You have the actual worst timing ever dude,” Changbin nearly screams into the phone and you can clearly hear Chan’s confused voice asking “Changbin? Where is yn?”

Changbin hangs up on him without answering, before putting your phone on silent. Then his, for good measure.

“It's like he’s my archnemesis or something,” Changbin sighs and you laugh, amused by his exasperation.

“So,” he clears his throat, a bit shyly, “can we start again? Properly?”

“I don't know… I need to see if something’s still there…” you muse and he cocks an eyebrow at you, leaning even closer.

“And how will you do that?”

You throw your hands around his neck, before resting your cheek on the slate of his shoulders. He remains still for a few heartbeats, only to tighten his hold on you, his lips delicately grazing the exposed canvas of your neck.

“I knew it, you smell nice, and you are really warm,” you sigh contently, closing your eyes as a soothing peace wash over you, all the worries you harbored dissipating at his warmth.

“You smell really nice too,” he whispers and a grin lights up your face.

“I can hear you smiling,” you point out, leaning away slightly to look at him.

“I’m happy.”

“That's cute.”

“You’re cuter,” he says, nuzzling your nose with his own. “Your total for the food is 160 dollars by the way.”

“Can I pay back with my kisses?” you smile cheekily, bringing your lips a hair breadth away from his.

He’s breathless as he finally presses his mouth on yours, “Please do.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #skz angst #skz fluff #skz au #skz fanfic #skz reactions #stray kids fanfiction #changbin x reader #changbin fluff #changbin imagines

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starseungs · 19 days

Text

after the curtain falls. lmh

lee know x gn!reader — spring was a season welcomed by all. what a pity that the notion of ‘all’ exempted you.

genre/s — angst, fluff, its just hurt-comfort, university au • 2.9k words

warning/s — break-up aftermath, profanity, commitment issues, minho gets called a bad bf (sorry), there's a twist i swear !

note — its quite literally been a year since i last wrote a fic so i would love to know how the quality of my writing is !! feedback is greatly appreciated 🫶

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Spring was never supposed to be this lifeless.

It was a season of new beginnings, where growth is celebrated and life is nurtured back into full bloom. A time of bright colors and freshly scented air floating all throughout the expanse of space, bringing soft smiles of comfort towards anyone who takes it in. Springtime was welcomed by all.

What a pity that the notion of ‘all’ exempted you.

You didn’t know why your spring was so vastly different from the others near you. You’d like to think that your winter started off just as normal as everybody else: watching the crisp fallen leaves on the ground get replaced by a fresh coat of snow, feeling the familiar prick of the icy season’s breeze on your skin as your body tried to suppress a giggling shiver, as well as seeing puffs of steam come out of every warm breath you took, reminding you that despite the cold weather, you still held a warmth inside of you.

Just who would have known that your spring would be the complete opposite, with your heart frosted over despite the rising temperatures? But somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew exactly why. You would never want to catch yourself admitting it, but maybe it was the way your winter ended in a snowstorm of emotions.

It wasn’t every winter that someone had a fight that could completely shatter an intricately built mosaic. It also wasn’t every winter that you would watch your other half walk out of your life without so much of a single falter.

You knew so damn well that it wasn’t every winter that you could get your heart broken.

Perhaps that was why you allowed your heart to get glazed over by ice. After all, it was the only thing keeping it together without requiring you to spend too much effort. Sure, it melted a bit every now and then, but it was easier to freeze liquid than it was to achieve the complete opposite.

It was for the same reason that you found solace in the springtime evenings, where it resembled even half of the winter that was keeping you human. The dimmed atmosphere of the surroundings was able to neutralize all the parading palettes of color, leaving you with a monochrome wonderland that was much more comforting to the eye.

The walk back to your dorm building wasn’t anything special. It really wasn’t supposed to, nor did you expect something to happen. You had just gotten over the hurdles of coursework back in the school’s library when you decided to call it a day, peacefully trek back to your dorm room, and get to sleep the hours away until duty calls. That was how your evening was supposed to go.

Except it didn’t.

When you first saw a figure more or less passed out near the lower steps of your dorm building, you were visibly concerned. Why wouldn’t you be? At this time of the day, it would be dangerous to just leave yourself undefended in public. That, and who in their right mind would be willing to snooze away amidst the midnight breeze?

That was enough for you to start a little jog toward them. Was this person locked out? Were they drunk? Should you help them? All sorts of questions popped into your head as you got closer to the steps the figure took as their bed for the night.

And yet all those same questions vanished into thin air the moment you caught a glimpse of the person’s face.

“—Minho?”

His name came out of your lips so frail, as if any stronger, and the scene before you would shatter into nothingness, telling you once again that it was all in your head. That you had wished to see him again.

It was almost comical just how fast the sight of him brought back the familiar prick in your eyes—the tears fighting the crisp blow of the wind to keep themselves at bay. This wasn’t how your evening was supposed to go.

Granted, the fight between you was a petty one. Well, not more so petty than sudden since it literally blew up out of nowhere. It started off with a question about commitment. Arguably simple one of where you saw each other in a few years. You had gone first after you asked, rambling happily about graduation and living together. Minho chuckled along with your plans, and to you, he even seemed glad to hear them.

Yet, when the topic of marriage was brought up, his smile immediately turned blank.

Of course, you noticed his drastic change of mood right away. What kind of significant other would you be if you didn’t? But when you reached out to ask him what was wrong, he merely brushed it off as being tired.

Except that both you and him had done nothing but lay around the whole day.

Maybe you, too, had a fault in all of this. You prodded him more about the topic, not knowing you were agitating a ticking time bomb running out of time. If you only knew, then it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he eventually exploded, spitting out that he wasn’t too sure about marriage.

In your view, that would have been fine. You were willing to talk it out; perhaps he had other plans for the both of you that would settle just fine in yours. There was no way you’d pressure Minho into doing something he didn’t feel like doing. You had too much love and respect for him to do so.

It was in an unfortunate turn of events that you had to find out the sentiment wasn’t shared in the same way you did, as when he slammed your room’s door shut after expressing that it wouldn’t work out, he took a piece of your heart with him that left you incomplete on the days that followed.

And yet, there he was again. Marching into your life like nothing ever happened.

In a blinding flash of hot white fury, you marched up to Minho’s peaceful figure, blissfully unaware of the chaos headed his way. Your body shook in the repressed burst of energy, trying not to lose yourself in public despite the area devoid of people. After reaching him in less than a minute, you saw no hesitation in leaning down to wake him.

“Minho,” you grasped at his right shoulder, trying to shake him out of slumber. You saw the action as intense in a way that was borderline frantic, not a care for the state of the joint you had grabbed. After all, why would you? Yet, while you’d like to believe you did a great job at expressing your displeasure, a small voice pestering at the back of your mind begged to say otherwise.

It was a mere whisper—directed at the act you just committed, one that shouldn’t even bother you in the slightest. Yet, it did. So painfully so.

That kind of gentleness isn’t reserved for a heart swirling in rage.

The slight squeeze in your heart at the notion only made you grit your teeth further in displeasure. Curse your damned heart for keeping its fondness for the man before you. The same man who was still up in dreamland while you were fighting your own war at the present. You clicked your tongue in building irritation.

“Wake up, or else I’m leaving you out here to freeze.” With one last shove, Minho finally came back to Earth.

You watched as he fluttered his eyes open, ignoring the warmth that seemed to spread over you once you got a glimpse of his big almond eyes. Minho sure took his sweet time to process his surroundings, causing you to purse your lips in uncertainty when his gaze lingered on your figure towering over him a bit too long with an unexplainable emotion.

“Hi,” he mumbled slowly, a small smile ghosting on his rosy lips. “Even in my dreams, you never fail to look so lovely.”

Cold air filled your lungs as you sucked in a breath at his words. You hated the way he easily melted the ice that you had covered your heart in. Without even meaning to, Minho had already managed to tear down the first layer of protection you had set up to keep yourself sane. There were a lot of things you wanted to tell him back, but you held your tongue. This wasn’t the right time.

Nor would that time ever come.

“It’s not a dream,” you opted to inform him of what was left of the goodness in your heart, partly feeling guilty for his disoriented state. “Get up, Minho. It’s cold out here.”

“You’re—what, wait!”

Minho scrambled frantically from his seated position on the dorm building’s steps, clumsily finding his balance to get up. The rush of suddenly standing after a nap came over him like a wave, causing him to stumble with a groan as he let the blood that came up settle. You sighed at Minho’s efforts, turning back around to continue your way towards the entrance.

“You should go back home.”

“I won’t!” He replied in haste, pure desperation seeping over his words. “Not again. Not when I spend every passing hour regretting that I did back then when I clearly shouldn’t have.”

You felt your world still at what Minho had just said. Did you hear it correctly?

“Please, Y/N.”

Minho’s footsteps echoed in your mind, telling you that he was moving closer. But your body had yet to listen to the warning bells you had set off, keeping you still in the same place you had stopped in. You surprised yourself with the small whimper that escaped your lips after feeling warmth radiating right behind you.

“Can—can I hug you?”

And just like that, the dam broke as the first fits of sobs spluttered out of your body in waves, barely getting contained as Minho wrapped you with his arms firmly. You turned to face him just to throw weak punches at his chest. “I hate you so much!”

“I know,” he said, hugging you tighter, as if you would disappear the moment he eased his hold. “I know you do.”

“Do you know how hurt I was? How could you just leave me like that!”

“I don’t know,” Minho answers again, completely giving in to your inner turmoil. He let you dampen his hoodie with your tears without any reference. “I was stupid.”

“So stupid!”

“Very stupid,” he repeats your words without hesitation, finally pulling back slightly to see your tear-stained face, gently wiping the fresh drops that escaped with his thumb.

You cursed the way your body naturally leaned into his touch. You disliked the way his voice soothed your running mind from the horrors it placed upon yourself. You hated the way you felt comforted by his presence, the same way he hurt you with his absence.

And most of all, you despised the way you couldn’t bring yourself to stay mad at him.

“I’m sorry,” Minho said heavily, visibly trying to keep his own tears at bay. “I know that won’t fix all the things that happened, but I still wanted to let you know.”

You exhaled shakily.

“I—I won’t force you to accept my apology,” he continued. “But please—God, Y/N. I don’t think I’d be able to handle you telling me to go home and never fixing us. I wouldn’t survive in this world without you by my side. I promise I’ll do better for you. I’ll reflect on what I need to, just—”

Minho breathed in deeply.

“Give me another chance.”

The two of you breathed in unison for the first time in weeks.

“Cut!”

“Nice,” Jisung’s squeal of joy could be heard throughout the wide space, carefully fumbling with his video camera to watch the scene’s replay. “That was a great take!”

Seungmin groans at the noise level. “Seriously, would it hurt you to keep it down? Some people are already asleep,” he scoffs, really not wanting to deal with a complaint filed against them this late into the night.

The younger of the two only juts his lower lip forward into a childish pout. “But it’s only midnight. We’re in university. Who gets to sleep that early in university?” Seungmin only bites back a retort after sensing genuine confusion in Jisung’s tone.

“Whatever,” he grumbled.

At the sound of their bickering, the late night’s breeze didn’t seem to be as frosty as it was a few minutes ago. You distantly hear Seungmin and Jisung continue to talk, now finding themselves in a heated discussion about the next scene. A light chuckle was heard coming from the man still holding you.

“Well, I’m glad that they’re having fun,” Minho comments, greatly amused at the duo. You felt his gaze drop down towards your head, still resting on his shoulder. “Feeling okay?”

You could only nod at his query, too exhausted from enacting the scene that just finished. He hummed at your non-verbal approach to answering, running a hand through your hair to soothe your dropping emotions.

“What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours?” You let out a soft giggle at his wording before snuggling yourself closer to his figure. Minho lets you do your thing with a smile.

“Let’s not ever do that.”

“Do what, love?” He asks, requesting that you elaborate. You listened to his heartbeat thump calmly before speaking up.

“Break up,” you said, the thought leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. “I don’t like the feeling. It hurts.”

Minho laughs again, but this time it was aimed at you. “Well, of course it’s going to hurt,” he says with a light tone. “You’re going to be losing me!” You slapped his arm in annoyance.

“You are such an ass, Lee Minho!”

“Ow—hold on!” He chokes out in between chuckles. Minho takes hold of the hand that was assaulting his arm, slipping it into his own and entangling both of your fingers. You couldn’t help the heat that washed over your face at the intimate action. Minho seemed satisfied with your reaction. “If it makes you feel better, it’s going to hurt me too.”

You pull away to raise a brow at his statement. “Why? Since you’ll be single?” Minho pretends to think for a second.

“I mean, I guess?” You shot him an icy glare at his admission, but the tender smile he gave back at you made your angry facade falter in an instant. It looks like on-screen you had the same issues with their own Minho—both being undeniably weak when it came to them.

“Stop giving me that look,” you sigh amidst a smile you were suppressing.

“What look?”

“That look,” you say, almost in a breath as you struggle to chase the words out of your mouth. “The one when you look at me like I’m the only person in this world.”

It was a look you’ve seen too many times. One that he would give you both at the most intimate of moments and the most random of times. You see it when you wake up in the morning to him already awake beside you; you saw it when you squealed in joy after winning a prize from those rigged claw machines in the arcade across town; and you see it especially when he sees you waiting outside his class’ building after an extensive lecture, holding two cups of coffee for both you and him. It was from those times that you realized—it was Minho’s gaze of unfiltered love for you.

Minho pulls you back into his arms, still unable to let go of his endearing grin. Your head finds its way back into the crevice of his neck, finding home in it once again, like second nature.

“That’s because you are the only person in my world.”

“We beg to differ.”

Minho could only roll his eyes at the eerily synchronized voices of Jisung and Seungmin, leaving you to crumble into fits of laughter. He scoffs before replying, “If I lose my beloved darling, then you guys are losing an actor.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be trying to salvage your relationship if you stopped being such a shit boyfriend!” Jisung bites back at Minho’s threat.

“What, so you would rather watch us be all lovey-dovey in front of you? I didn’t take you for that kind of person, Jisung.”

“Seungmin, he’s fighting me again!”

“What am I, your mom?”

The night continued on in blissful laughter and amused smiles, finally fitting for the season of spring. Even with the chilled breeze of the evening air, the warmth exuding from the four of you would remain, defrosting the ice you had layered on your heart for the scene given to you. Deep in your mind, you knew that this was really how your night was supposed to go.

That as much as you loved creating little scenarios for your friends’ films, you’d always prefer the life you had after the curtain falls.

mastertag 🔖— send in an ask if you want to be added ! 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu

sorry for anyone tagged that didn't want to be !! i used my old mastertag from a year ago for this fic. i'll be creating a new one soon, so kindly just tell me if you want to be included still 🤍

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ajortga · 2 months

Text

the warmth of your hand

pairing: cairo sweet x fem reader

summary: tender kisses with the crisp cold of a sunset winter night, you and cairo go ice skating, another sweet memory being made.

word count: 1.9k+

Where the long lasting snow falls from the sky ever so gently,

The hushed whispers of words of the wind that blows in your hair when I brush it through my fingers.

Forever winter,

The cold that answers my prayers and tints your cheeks pink,

So I that you can ask for my warmth and comfort,

While I envelope you in a love that’ll keep you so safe, pressing my lips against your snow-fallen cheeks..

“Cairo!” you call out, your voice a soft melody as it rings through the coldness of the snow, and to the small creek that leads to the window of her room. Cairo’s ears perk as she places down her pen and swipes her thin hands over her journal filled with poetic beauty, the ink slightly smearing and leaving its mark.

She closes her notes filled with poetry of you, using the clip of her pen to grasp onto the book’s handle and wraps it in the band that keeps it together.

“I’m coming love!” Cairo says, her voice growing a bit louder so you can hear her from outside. She didn’t want you to wait outside for long as she rolls out of bed and opens her closet, grabbing a pair of mittens, earmuffs, and wrapping a scarf around the nape of her neck. She flings her bedroom door open and swings down the hallway, opening the door to be greeted by your figure.

You had your headphones hung around your neck, earmuffs in and your hair curled beautifully down. It took your girlfriend's breath away as she smiled at you. Your soft eyes met hers and she squealed, making you giggle. Your breath warmed up the cold air around you, a breath trying to warm it up, a sigh that is visible to one who sees it, your breath fogging in the cold winter air as it travels and dissipates.

It’s like her writing when it comes to life. Of course it would come to life, all her writings are about you, your love, your beauty, you. Where the cold answers her prayers and tints your cheeks pink. It makes Cairo’s lips curve into a warm smile to see the way you look adorable, with your scarf covering your chin and you waddle up to her like a penguin.

“G’morning..” you say, a small sniffle following in suit.

“Hi baby,” Cairo whispers, ruffling your hair and scratching your scalp gently. She nuzzles your nose, having to bend down to press her nose to yours and giving your lips a kiss. Her lips are warm, soft, your lips are pouty, sweet.

Before you can pull away and feel the eternal warmth of her lips again, her arms wrap around you and slide down to your waist. You feel her lift you up as a cheeky grin forms on your face, spinning around in her arms and making a small childish squeal like it’s Christmas day. Cairo grins, feeling your nimble hands brush the invading bangs away from her forehead.

“I missed you. And it’s cold,” you murmur, your hot breath purposely blowing against her face, causing a contagious laugh to sound from her.

She feels the way your legs lift to wrap around her waist as she carries you, her nose pressed into your shoulder as your face buries into her neck.

“You are cold,” she states, “But that’s okay, we have plenty of time to cuddle and warm up before we go on our date in the evening, cmon.”

She opens the door to her house and shuts it with her foot, you two kissing and making out along the way, lovely mumbles being made between each.

“I missed you.”

Kiss.

“I love you,”

Seal that promise with another kiss.

You nestle your nose to the home of her neck as she carries you to her bed that is invaded by the sweet vanilla smell of her. You squeak as she pulls away from your lips, you press another greedy kiss to her lips again before she swings you back and forth.

“Here comes the airplane!”

“Cairo.. Cairo! CairOoOOOOOO!” you shriek as she throws you on her bed and comes right after, jumping on you and hugging you. You giggle from her funniness before feeling her fingertips wiggle against your stomach, tickling you.

“No! Stop!” You belly laugh, your body squirming under her as she tickles and tickles.

“Tell me you love meee.”

You can’t breathe from all the laughing as you snort and giggle, squeaking in between.

Your giggle is so cute, she thinks.

“Noo!! Okay yes I love you!” you squeal as you surrender your hands to say that you give up.

“I know,” she says softly, letting you scoot into her embrace. “I just wanted to find a way to warm you up a little.”

It worked a little. You tell that to her, giving her another reason to let you rest against her body, like a puppy wanting their mothers warmth. You kiss her neck, nuzzling it with your nose as she kisses your forehead with a loving remark.

You spend the rest of the morning cuddling while resting in Cairo’s arms. She puts you to sleep by whispering her poems about you into your ear. The warmth of her breath against the shell of your ear makes you fall asleep faster. She notices the way your eyes flutter and twitches that you're fast asleep. You don’t know how she does it, you already got enough sleep but she always finds a way to make you sleepy again, even with the most amount of caffeine you may have had. From 9 to 11 you’re in a deep sleep with her sweet gentle whispers.

From 12-3 you and Cairo spend time cooking together. Boiling water and pouring some noodles in. After making your alfredo with garlic bread, anybody would die to look through the window and live your love life, your eyes looking into each other as you feed each other. Your fork reaches her mouth as she captures it with her lips and eats, she feeds you and wipes some of the sauce off your smooth chin.

From 4-5 you two get ready for ice skating, it was going to snow tonight. It’s like a rom-com movie and you would die to live in that with Cairo, sharing kisses near the campfire. Maybe more. Holding hands while you sleep and curl to each other. You cling on and your legs wrapped around her body as others look at you in pure awe.

You slip on a puffy white jacket above your top and put on some flared jeans, topping it off with some earmuffs that you may or may not have stolen when Cairo was changing.

“I saw that.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Give me those back.”

“Cairo.”

“Y/N.”

“Do you not love me?” You say, looking like you were about to cry. You loved when you could fake cry. Guess acting classes really did benefit you besides doing theater.

She sees your trembling lips and teary eyes and immediately she gives up. Coming to hug you and pressing her lips to your forehead.

“Okay shh. You can wear them. Or keep them because I love you, okay?” She coos, voice coaxing you as a childish giggle erupts from your chest.

“Yay!”

You hug her and she lifts you up, kissing you softly, “Come on princess,” your legs wrap around her as she grabs her key and unlocks the door, walking to the ice skating rink not too far from her house.

After a few minutes of walking and giving gentle, loving kisses, she places you down on the floor, caressing your cheek.

“Okay love bug, let’s go ice skating, okay?”

You nuzzle her neck, intertwining your hand with hers as you swing them up and down, giggling along the way. You sit next to her, snuggled up while you put on your ice skates.

“Your nose is all red honey.”

You sniffle, letting her touch her nose with yours, feeling her scarf wrap around her neck when she lifts you up

Yours and Cairo’s feet were going to touch the rink as she examines the glossy ice, “It looks a little slippery, be careful, I can guide you-”

Before she could finish you giggled and skated on the ice, doing a small spin.

“Be careful!” she squeals, letting you drag her hand onto the rink as she clings onto you for support. She screams as her legs shake, begging you to start on the edge. Cairo was gripping onto the edge for dear life as you assured her, kissing her neck with love.

The sun was setting, you two were skating while holding hands. It was beautiful as you were cuddled up to her while she wobbled. She got the hang of it as you guys skated faster among all the other sweet couples.

“I think we look the cutest,” you whisper, looking up at her and playing with the twist of her hair.

“Oh really? I know we look the best baby. You’re making everyone jealous of me to be with a girl like you.”

A blush creeps up on your cheek as you smack her playfully, “That’s not true.”

“Well everyone else probably would kill to have a girl like you.”

“But I only have eyes for you. You are the prettiest, sweetest, kindest, most lovingest girl I’ve ever known.”

Now it’s Cairo’s turn to blush, it caught her so off guard that she lost balance and slipped, taking you down with her as you two yelped. You landed on top of Cairo as you laughed.

“See, you know it’s trueeee.”

“No!”

“Maybe they’re just jealous of us, they want what we have because we never fight unless it’s to prove the other person’s personality Cairo.”

The curled hair brunette lifts you up and you two continue skating.

After a few hours of skating and tenderness, the sun greeted the moon as its sweet warmth faded. The twinkling lights above the rink glistened against the ice.

“That was fun, huh baby?”

“I loved it more because it was with you.”

Cairo giggles, your smile never fading as you two leave the ice rink. She helps untie your skates and gives your hand a little kiss before taking hers off.

You spend the rest of the night getting street food and sharing it with each other. Your hands never tear away from each other as you hug her while walking around the bustling city.

When you drop her off it’s like a scene from a romance movie that makes you kick your legs.

“Thank you for tonight,” you whisper, your hands holding on hers as she looks down from you, one stair up to her house.

“We should do that again.”

“And again,” you say, your cheeks scrunching in a small smile as she nods.

There’s a comforting silence, a soft cool breeze blowing through your hair as she looks down at you from her step.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Cairo,” you whisper, before leaning on your tippy toes to reach her lips. You kiss her softly before pulling away.

"Call me when you're safe cariño."

You keep kissing her, until you turn to leave. You were a few feet away from her after taking small steps as she watched you walk to your car on her driveway before turning around.

“Actually.. Can I stay the night here and cuddle?” you whisper, looking like a precious puppy with those eyes.

Cairo knew she couldn’t say no, she would do anything to spend time with you as she smiles widely, nodding.

You waddle up to her in happiness before jumping in her arms and kissing her again, making a small squeal as she giggles and carries you back into the comfort of her home.

#cairo sweet #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #vada cavell x y/n #tara carpenter x you #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #wednesday addams x female reader

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cardansriddle · 5 months

Text

Sugar - (tom riddle x fem!muggle!reader)

Summary: Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps the fates were mocking him. He had not meant to venture into the little coffee shop and he had most definitely not meant to return. But he kept coming back and the waitress kept putting sugar packets near his coffee every damn time.

Warnings: Tom gets possessive halfway through so it's pretty tame for him. not proofread. oh also self-indulgent crime & punishment debate (got a lil carried away).

A/N: 5.5k words but it's kinda mehh. to the person who requested this, i hope you enjoy it at least a little <3

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom felt as if he was a solitary figure in a world hushed by the winter's harsh embrace. With each step he took away from the desolate building of grey against the pristine canvas of winter, he felt lighter. He did not cast a look back towards the orphanage looming behind him, instead focused on the sound of the snow crunching beneath his feet as they led him further into the dark street cloaked in a thick layer of snow.

The wizard knew if he spent another moment in that cursed place he would have lashed out and killed someone, so he had hastily thrown his coat and emerald scarf around himself before slamming the door shut behind him.

Two more years. He thought to himself. Then he would be out and would never be obligated to return again. Perhaps he would even burn the place to the ground if his plans worked out in his favour.

The air was crisp, and his breath materialized in front of him with each exhale. His eyes quickly scanned the narrow empty alley for a suitable quiet place where he could pass his time. There was nothing interesting, except for the tiny bookstore nestled in the corner of the street that emitted a warm, golden light through its window. Tom quickly decided it would do, and he strode towards the place with purpose. A small bell chimed as he entered the place, which he quickly realised was a bookstore with a cosy coffee shop tucked inside.

He inhaled the pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of weathered books. Before he could lose himself entirely in the intoxicating symphony of scents, a sudden, loud thud echoed from behind the counter, jolting him from his reverie.

"Blimey!" someone cursed, their voice slicing through the tranquillity. Tom found himself rooted to the spot, curiosity piqued, as a figure suddenly emerged from underneath the counter.

It was a girl. Unabashedly, his eyes traced the lines of her features, noting the delicate curve of her jaw and the cascade of hair that framed her face. He assumed she was around his age if not younger and he stared at the girl as she rubbed her head, wincing when she hit a particularly soft spot before she realised that she was not alone in the shop. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights and he watched as her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

Tom, still an observer, saw more than just the blush; he discerned the subtleties of her response, the way her eyes momentarily widened before seeking refuge elsewhere, fingers fidgeting with the edges of her knitted cardigan.

She attempted to compose herself and met his eyes. "Oh! Sorry, sir. How may I assist you?" She asked cheerfully, resisting the urge to duck her head down to avoid his intense stare.

He crossed the small distance to the counter. "I'd like a coffee. Black."

"No sugar?" she inquired, to which Tom raised a single brow. Her blush deepened as she quickly averted her eyes from his face.

"Right, of course. You may take a seat while I prepare this for you." With a nod, she hurried to fulfil his request, leaving Tom alone with the lingering scent of coffee and old books that were now intertwined with a pleasant smell of vanilla and sweet—

It was her perfume, he realised with a start.

He hastily removed his coat and scarf before plopping down on the nearest armchair. His gaze remained fixed on the girl, absorbed in the rhythm of her practised motions as she prepared his drink, her movements seemingly both effortless and comforting. There was an almost lazy grace to her actions and he continued to watch as she sang under her breath so softly if he had not been staring so intensely, he would not have picked up on it.

He wondered how he had never noticed this place before. He had been passing through this little street for as long as he could remember but for some reason, he had only stumbled upon it today. His sharp eyes darted around, instinctively searching for traces of magic, half-expecting the discovery of a hidden passage to the wizarding world but he quickly realised the place was undeniably, disappointingly muggle.

Muggle.

He tore his gaze away from the girl at the mental reminder of what she was. He fished out a book from his bag and opened it to occupy his mind.

The subtle shuffle of her approaching steps drew his attention back to the present, and he met her gaze as she placed the steaming cup of coffee before him. A sugar packet sat innocently beside it. His eyes lingered on the packet for a moment before lifting coldly to meet hers.

She, however, was undeterred by the intensity of his glare. “In case you change your mind.” She smiled at him softly before turning on her heel and walking back.

His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, and then, almost involuntarily, it dropped to the innocuous sugar packet.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom did not know why he had returned. Truthfully, he had not even noticed his feet had led him here until he was in front of the familiar wooden door that led into the coffee shop. Perhaps he had thought more than he should’ve about the disgustingly soft smile of that girl for the last five months. She was an insolent muggle, yet here he was, walking into the place as if he had never left.

The seasons had blurred since he had last been here. Winter had long surrendered to the warmth of summer. He had to spend at least a month in the orphanage, and he was hoping Malfoy would invite him over for the rest of the summer.

The place was just as he remembered it. The only difference was the lack of Christmas decorations. He faltered only slightly when he took notice of the girl behind the counter, already staring at him. She had not changed much. Her face was the same, less pale perhaps, but the same, nonetheless. The oversized knitted sweater that once enveloped her had been replaced by a little white sundress, and his gaze involuntarily lingered on the exposed smooth skin.

“Welcome back!” She greeted him cheerfully, and he was not surprised she remembered him. “What can I get you?”

“Black coffee,” he replied curtly

She nodded as if she was expecting it. "Coming right up." Gently shutting her book, she gracefully moved towards the coffee machine. Tom's eyes couldn't help but trail to the volume she had been reading, and to his pleasant surprise, it was Dostoyevsky. He had not pegged her as someone who would enjoy Russian literature, with its weighty and morally morbid themes. In his mind, she seemed more likely to be a Jane Austen enthusiast, with her intricately written romances and flowery prose.

“It’s 'Crime and Punishment'." He suddenly heard her soft voice declare, and he looked away from the book to give his attention to the girl. Then feeling as if she had said something silly, she blushed and looked away quickly. "Though I'm sure you figured that. I just wondered why you look so surprised."

He replied before he could tell himself not to. "I did not imagine you as someone who would enjoy this."

Emboldened at his words, she turned to face him, a hand casually resting on her hip as she sported a cheeky smile. "Am I to presume you imagine me often?"

His sharp inhale was audible as he absorbed the unexpected shift in her demeanour. He had not expected this shy, timid girl to tease him so boldly. She was a little vixen.

But he did not give her the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him. A lazy raise of his brow was the extent of his acknowledgement before his gaze wandered towards the rows of bookshelves, feigning indifference. "Do you have another copy? Perhaps I shall like to reread this evening."

She frowned, walking over towards the table he had occupied last time to set his coffee down. He grimly took notice of the sugar packet placed near it. "I'm afraid not. But you can have mine."

"No, that is quite alri—" He began to decline but she had already crossed the small distance between them and was holding out the thick book. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers closed around the object, careful to avoid touching hers.

The girl smiled and walked away before he could even say thanks. Not like he was going to.

Settling back into the soft armchair, he opened the book only to freeze at the sight of a name scribbled on the front page and he knew it belonged to her. The wizard rolled the name around in his mind and determined that it suited her. He stared at her name for a minute longer before turning the page and delving into the content of the book.

He had been so immersed in the story that he had not noticed how the time had passed. The gradual hush of the coffee shop's ambient sounds finally penetrated his concentration, and he distinctly heard the girl approaching him.

"I'm sorry to disturb you but we're closing in five minutes." She looked at the book in his hands. "You may return it once you're done."

He hummed and looked down at where he had stopped.

"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."

He wondered if the universe was trying to tell him something.

Tom found himself caught in the silent narrative of this stranger's presence.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He returned the next day.

She looked up to see him enter, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up.

Tom placed the book on the counter.

"You finished it in one day?"

He shrugged. "I'm a fast reader."

She gave him a small smile, turning to make his black coffee before he could ask for it. "Every time I reread it it takes me a few days." She paused for a moment, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "The usual?"

He nodded. "The usual." He debated whether or not to voice his next question, and decided one conversation with the girl would not hurt.

"Why do you read it so often?"

"Each time I find new details that make Raskolnikov's character more complex. Each time I discover these small little things I missed the last time I read it becomes so much better. Plus I enjoy his moral dilemma."

He hummed, his curiosity piqued. He took his usual seat and watched as she brought his coffee and set it down in front of him. "Enlighten me." He gestured towards the seat in front of him. She hesitated only for a second before taking a seat.

"Raskolnikov is obviously a complex character. His actions are driven by a desire for power and superiority, a belief that he is exempt from conventional morality. However, one could argue that his internal struggles and eventual remorse suggest a more nuanced exploration of morality."

Tom furrowed his brows. "I see him as a product of his environment, a desperate man driven to extremes by the harsh circumstances he faced. His morality shifts to the other side of the spectrum."

She cocked her head to the side, and he could see her getting slightly frustrated. "But morality is not just a spectrum; it's a complex interplay of values, societal norms, and personal convictions. Raskolnikov's guilt stems from the clash between his actions and the intrinsic moral compass within him. It's the consequence of recognizing the weight of one's choices."

He scoffed before he could stop himself. "Morality is subjective. What is right for one may not be right for another. Raskolnikov was weak and he was an idiot. Guilt is a useless emotion and it is for the weak."

Her expression remained unwavering. "But perhaps it's that recognition of guilt that separates the morally discerning from those who lack empathy. The fact that you can't comprehend his guilt doesn't make it foolish. It makes it human."

Tom's eyes narrowed a glint of impatience in his gaze. "Human or not, guilt is a hindrance. It's a sentiment for those too feeble to rise above their actions. If I were to make a difficult choice, I would do it without hesitation, without remorse."

He only realised the slip of his tongue after the words left his mouth. He stilled, gauging her reaction yet her response was measured but firm. "Raskolnikov's guilt is a testament to his humanity, his ability to grapple with the consequences of his choices. It's what sets him apart from those who operate without remorse."

"But—"

"So what you're saying is you would kill and feel no remorse?" She cut him off.

Yes.

"You do not understand." He did not intend his tone to be so harsh, yet the words left his mouth coldly. She visibly withdrew and nodded stiffly. "Right. Enjoy your coffee."

He opened his mouth to say something but realised for the first time in his life he did not know what to say.

He was left staring at the cursed sugar packet she had left near his coffee again.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He did not return the next day. Nor the day after. Or after.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Two weeks passed with no sign of him.

And then she saw him step into the coffee shop. He walked in with determination. He walked up to the counter, meeting her gaze with an intensity that mirrored the unspoken tension between them. "I'd like a black coffee," he said, his tone even, though a hint of something lingered beneath the surface.

She nodded, her expression composed but guarded. As she prepared the coffee, the air seemed charged with unspoken words. Her usual cheerful smile was notably absent. The absence struck him, and he realised he had enjoyed her smiles.

When she placed the coffee in front of him, there was a palpable pause. He glanced at the sugar packet, a subtle acknowledgement of the lingering disagreement. Without a word, he took it, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he poured the sugar into his coffee.

She looked at him, her gaze unwavering, before a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He returned the next day. And the day after that. And for the rest of summer.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

The next time he stepped into the familiar place, winter had covered the city with a snowy blanket once again. It had been a year since he first discovered this little place. And he had not seen his little waiter since he left for Hogwarts in September.

When he walked in, her eyes lit up visibly. "Hi!" She waved at him with a bright grin.

"Hello." He greeted as he unwrapped his scarf and settled in his usual seat. In a matter of minutes, she was bringing him his usual order. She was back to wearing her warm knitted sweaters. "How did you enjoy the book?"

"Oscar Wilde never disappoints," he said. She hummed in agreement, pleased at his words. He watched as her hands dropped to fidget with the bottom of her sweater. "You wish to ask me something." He stated. "Ask."

"Do you study in a boarding school?"

Tom hesitated only for a moment before replying. "Yes."

"Oh. Well, that explains the months of not showing up."

"Were you expecting me?" He teased her with an amused smirk, taking delight in the way her cheeks reddened.

"I was just wondering that is all," she admitted, a hint of curiosity peeking through. Tom observed her, noting the return of the timid, shy girl from their first encounter. It amused him how a few teasing remarks could momentarily whisk away her fiery boldness. He couldn't help but wonder what it would take to awaken it once again.

"And do you wonder about me often, little vixen?" he added, a playful glint in his eyes.

She blushed harder at the nickname but then as if a thought had struck her, she straightened and Tom watched as she visibly mustered up her courage. "I actually was wondering your name."

He bristled, but she must have not noticed because she continued. "I suppose I have not given you mine either." She mused out loud and announced her name to him. "But I thought it bizarre that considering all the time we've talked we never got around to that. Friends who do not each other's names." The girl laughed at the last notion and only then she realised that Tom had remained unnervingly quiet throughout the exchange. She raised her eyes from the frayed edges of her sweater, and the sight almost made her take a step back. His eyes had darkened, and she could have sworn she saw them flash red. There was no warmth, no familiarity in his gaze.

"Are you alright?"

Suddenly, he rose from his seat, an ominous tension permeating the air as he advanced towards her with every word. "We are not friends. You dare to think I would be friends with the likes of you?" His words were sharper than the keenest of blades, cutting into her with merciless precision. "Foolish, little girl," He spat out before grabbing his things and storming out of the place. As the door closed behind him, the little coffee shop seemed to exhale, the echoes of his harsh words lingering in the hushed aftermath.

She stood frozen in her place, helpless against the storm of emotions and the tears that began to veil her vision.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom fumed for months after their last encounter. How dare the ignorant muggle insinuate that they were friends? He scarcely considered his Knights of Walpurgis as his friends, and she thought she would just appoint herself the title? Who did she think she was?

"Mate, you alright? You've been unresponsive for a while." Malfoy nudged him slightly, attempting to draw his attention back to the present.

Tom made a noise of acknowledgement before mentally shaking the image of his little waiter— no, not his, he berated himself— from his mind.

But no matter how he tried, he could not. He could not just banish her from his thoughts. He knew a part of him, a rather embarrassingly large part of him enjoyed her company, her passion, her conversations— just her.

And there, tucked away in the recesses of his trunk, lay her damned book— a taunting reminder of her. The temptation to burn it, to obliterate any remnants of her from his life, danced on the edge of his thoughts. He had shoved away, out of sight if only just to save himself the fury, the anger, (the longing).

He wondered if she was going through the same turmoil as him. He hoped she was. She had no right to make him feel this way and get away with it unscathed.

But she was too enticing to give up. He did not know what it was about her. She was a muggle, an ordinary, plain girl working at a forgotten little cafe. Sure, she liked books, but so did a lot of other people. Yes, she was pretty, but so were a lot of other girls. But none could even come close to stirring his emotions as she did.

Perhaps it was the ease with which she conversed with him. Or the entirely too cheery smiles. Or her endearing knitted sweaters— though he secretly favoured the sundresses.

He, of course, knew what it was. He had tried to deny the idea to himself, but there was no escaping it. Tom had never been able to be unequivocally authentic with another individual before. From his early childhood, he refused to allow anyone close to him. He never lowered his walls and rejected anything that would yield a genuine connection. It was refreshing with her. He had no cause to uphold a curated facade.

Had she not been a muggle, he would entertain the thought of her bewitching him. He would have been convinced the girl put some spell on him or slipped a potion into his drink.

It was maddening.

She was maddening.

He sighed upon realising that he had spiralled again thinking of her. He needed to return the book, and maybe that would ease his mind. Perhaps once he was rid of her possession, she would not haunt him anymore. (Though he knew he was only trying to reassure himself with the last thought.)

As summer loomed around the corner, it felt both too distant and too imminent, mirroring the paradox of his tangled emotions.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

The sound of her laugh rang out before he could even close the door behind him. His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he did not get whiplash. But there she was, his little waiter, chuckling delightfully as some boy spoke lowly from behind the counter. Chuckles escaped her lips, and she bit down on her lip in a futile attempt to stifle the laughter, her hands deftly at work preparing a drink. Despite her efforts, laughter bubbled forth once more, forcing her to set the cup down to avoid any potential spills.

An immediate surge of anger coursed through him. Who was this boy? What business did have with her? What right did he have to elicit such genuine laughter from her? (Most importantly, how dare she replace him?)

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to gather himself into some semblance of a composed, unaffected man that he most definitely was not at that moment. With a loud, purposeful cough, he sought to catch her attention.

She spun around, the practised smile reserved for customers settling onto her face as she readied herself to serve him. However, the smile swiftly vanished the moment her doe-like eyes locked onto him. She looked like a deer caught in headlights as she stared at him, wide eyes roving over his face as if to confirm that he was really standing there, in front of her, and was not a figment of her imagination.

Because despite their last encounter, despite the anger, and the hurt she had felt, she kept hoping he would return. She kept imagining him standing there, with his ridiculously fancy scarf as he spewed out an apology. She had delved so deep into her fantasies involving him that now that he was actually there, she did not what to do or to say. Her tongue was tied, and her brain was fogged. What was she supposed to say?

It seemed he decided to grant her mercy and be the first to break the tense silence.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

He shuffled closer, though his steps were unsure, unlike his usual confident strides that she was used to seeing. “I wished to return your book.” He declared yet made no move to reach into his bag for the said book. He allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of her, her eyes that always seemed to glisten, her hands that were always fidgeting, her little sundress that he was afraid would drive him to insanity, (and her lips that he wished he could press against his own just so he could find out what they felt like, tasted like.) He shoved the last one into a drawer in his mind and locked it away. He could not fantasise about her. She was a muggle. He could not stoop so low as to hold affections for a muggle girl.

“Did you enjoy it?” The girl asked tentatively as if afraid one wrong word would set him off, have him spitting more harsh words that would dig deep into her skin and remain there.

“As always.” He replied. Because every book she gave him held another meaning. She was a clever girl, choosing the ones that she knew would have him coming back with a strong debate prepared in his mind. They always seemed to stand on opposite sides of every argument that the books posed, ensuring that their discussion would get heated, exciting, and thrilling.

While Tom vehemently disagreed with her views, he found pleasure in the way her mind worked. He admired her quick-wittedness, her ability to counter every argument he posed. No one else had engaged him in such stimulating conversations. She was a breath of fresh air, a captivating force he wanted to inhale and never release. He yearned to suffocate in the essence of her being, to be consumed and to consume in return. He wanted to own her— that irrational desire to keep her for himself was always there in the deeper parts of his mind that he was scared to venture into.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She responded but he could detect the subtle undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice.

He hesitated. “May I have one black coffee?” He was extending an olive branch, and while it was not an outright apology, coming from Tom, it was a whole declaration.

“It’s five minutes until closing time.”

She would not be swayed so easily then.

Fine. Tom thought. He would make her come to her senses.

The boy who he had forgotten was still there suddenly came to stand next to him. Tom eyed him with disdain, his features curling into an unimpressed sneer, raising a lazy brow.

“I’ll help her close up, mate. You can leave now.”

“Daniel, that is not necessary.” She muttered, glancing between the two men nervously. Daniel? Tom clenched his jaw, enraged. In his absence, it seemed she had gotten on first-name basis with a boy. His mouth soured with the taste of betrayal at her blatant ignorance. How could she discard him so easily? Had she not suffered all these months at the mere thought of him? Had he been alone in his suffering?

“No,” Tom stated flatly. “You will leave.” He told the boy then turned to face his waiter. “We will talk.”

“Tom, I do not think—”

He cut her off with a hiss. “It was not a request.”

Daniel seemed wholly displeased. He opened his mouth to argue, but his girl beat him to it. “It’s okay, Daniel. I will see you some other time.”

“Whatever he has to tell you, surely he can say in front of me.”

She shook her head gently, trying to dissuade him. “It’s a matter between him and I. I would rather talk privately.”

Tom looked smug as he faced Daniel again, struggling to contain his smirk. He could see the indignation clear on the boy’s face as his eyes flickered dubiously between her and Tom. He knew the wizard was no ordinary acquaintance of her, he could feel the palpable tension in the air like a wolf.

Tom, of course, wished to push his buttons further, just to have the last word. “You heard her. Leave.”

Daniel scoffed. “I will see you tomorrow then.” He muttered and with one last long look, he squared his shoulders and left the café with as much dignity as his wounded pride could muster.

As the door shut with a final thud, they were left in pregnant silence, both unsure of the dynamics at play between them. The air in the café hung heavy with unspoken tension as if the silence itself had taken on a weight, pressing down on them both. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second echoing in the quiet space.

She was the first to cave. "Well? You wished to talk." Gesturing towards him with a hand expectantly. "Talk."

Tom inhaled sharply, and for the first time in his life, he did not quite know what to say. How to proceed.

"Who is he?" The question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.

She raised a brow. "Seriously? After how you walked out of here last time I would think your choice of words would be different."

"Different? I hardly think the question was unfair."

She huffed impatiently, discarding her apron as she turned from him to put everything away for the night. "Of course. How foolish of me to assume that you have no business inquiring about my life when we are not even friends." She chuckled bitterly. "You made the notion quite appalling if memory serves me right. You wish to know who is Daniel? For all you know, he could be my fiancee. Would it matter? No. Because you and I are hardly acquaintances."

An unfamiliar feeling began coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he suddenly felt sick. She briefly turned to fix him with a pointed glare and froze at the look on his face. The dancing flames of the candles seemed to mirror the flickering emotions in Tom's eyes—flames of irritation, discontent, and an unexpected pang of jealousy.

Tom could scarcely believe his fate. How was it that he— the most powerful wizard of his generation— had succumbed to the pathetic disease of— what was it? Desire? Lust? Infatuation? Such mundane urges were beneath him, he had no wish to pursue anyone or anything that was not remotely related to his quest for power. Yet there she was. In her infuriating fucking dress and those innocent eyes. Did she even know what sort of turmoil she had caused him?

All of a sudden he felt exhausted, defeated. His shoulders sunk visibly as he ran a hand through his hair. He would use a hundred of her sugar packets in his coffee if it meant she would just grace him with her bubbly smile again and just— just what? Leave him be? He did not want that. Treat him as if nothing had happened? Maybe. Release him from whatever enchantment she put him under? Yes.

"What do you want from me?" He asked at last, frustration clear in his voice.

She regarded him with disbelief as she rounded the counter to stand directly in front of him. "What do I want from you?" She repeated incredulously. "I want an apology! I want an explanation! I want—" she sighed, cutting herself off before she could finish the thought. "You cannot just show up here demanding things and ordering people around after how you treated me last time. If you wish to continue this conversation, you will apologise to me."

"You want me to say sorry?" He took a step towards her.

"Yes!"

"Fuck your apology."

Before she could register what was happening, Tom closed the minute distance between them and caved into his desire. He grabbed her face, fingers threading through her hair, and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was not gentle; it was a collision of pent-up tension and bottled-up desires.

Tom's lips moved fervently against hers, pouring his frustration into the act. It was a silent declaration that transcended the boundaries of his complicated inner turmoil. Tom knew that. But he could not pull away from her— not after having tasted how her lips feel like.

Her hands, which had hovered hesitantly in the space between them, found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer.

She felt—tasted like God's favourite nectar, sweet and addictive and he knew he would never get enough of it. She might not have been a witch, but he was bewitched by her.

As they broke apart, breathless, the air between them hung heavy with the residue of their shared kiss. He dared not to ease his hold on her, only stared at her with darkened eyes, taking delight in the way her lips were bruised, and puffy, all because of him. But it was not enough. He needed to mark her for all to see.

He dove into the tender skin of her throat like a man starved, teeth sinking into her flesh with no warning, and a sick sort of satisfaction washed over him at the muffled moan that escaped her mouth. He sucked on the skin until he was sure there would be a purple mark blooming on the spot before running his tongue over the flesh to soothe the sting. He did not waste any second before moving to mark another spot.

"I do not even know your name." She managed to choke out in between her whimpers, hands moving of their own accord to tangle in his hair, and a particular tug had him growling deep in his throat.

"Tom." He whispered, pulling away from her neck only to return his lips to hers. "Say it. Say my name." He murmured in between the kisses, pushing her back until her back was pressed against the counter. He easily picked her up to place her on the surface, his fingers trailing along her thighs to her knees to nudge them apart so he could stand in between them.

"Tom." She breathed out in a daze, and he smirked in delight.

She was his. He had already branded her, and he would do much more to ensure she knew it was him she belonged to.

He leaned to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. "I hope you know there is no going back from this. From me." He whispered, fingers slipping under the strap of her dress and dragging it down her shoulder slowly. "You are my dirty little secret now. Mine."

She shuddered under the weight of his words but he was already snaking his hand around her throat as his lips found home on her own once again.

No going back.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

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oneforthemunny · 6 months

Text

christmas (baby, please come home) |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: it's not the most wonderful time of the year for everyone, including you and eddie.

apart of my munny's merriest that you can read here!

contains: angst. eddie is mean. past parental trauma. grief. holiday grief and sadness. angst really.

Heavy boots, covered with slush and snow from the frozen ground below, pounded up the creaking wooden porch. Eddie huffed, his breath clouding around him, a gloved hand reaching for the screen door. The toe of his work boots knocked against the doorway, kicking off the remainder of the snow from the icy, winter wonderland that arrived overnight, just in time for Christmas Eve. With it, came an icy chill that had Eddie working overtime to make sure the horses were warm.

It was an odd feeling, walking into the mud room, plopping on the bench to pull off his boots. Eddie waited, inhaling in the cold, crisp air, waiting for the warmth to flood back to his system. That cozy heat to thaw out the chill that shocked his system, left his cheeks red and frost bitten from the cold. The euphoric feeling of relief that coated him every time he walked in from the snow. It never came.

In fact, it felt colder in the house.

In the house that was decorated, halls decked and every square inch covered with Christmas. The usual homey contentment that came from looking at the decorations was gone, replaced with a miserable, heavy feeling settled deep in the pit of his stomach, feeling him with a sickening guilt.

Visions of your fight, hateful words piled on with yells and slamming doors, right there in the kitchen. A kitchen that should be filled with Burl Ives’ Christmas album on a loop was missing its merry music; it was missing you.

“We always spend Christmas with my family.”

“Yeah, exactly. It’s always about you, what you wanna fuckin’ do!”

Eddie could see your face as if it was in front of him again. The way your expression fell, crumbling before him, the betrayal in your eyes rimmed with flecks of hurt. It made his stomach turn all over again.

“You don’t- I thought you liked spending time with my family.” Your voice was small, far too small for your usual tone. “They always love spending time with you, Ed.”

“Oh, yeah, to you they do.” He scoffed, eyes rolling so hard he gave himself a headache. He could feel it now. “You always leave me with your asshole uncle, who always wants to tell me the same goddamn story about how he used to ride horses growin’ up, like I give a shit-”

“-Eddie! He’s trying to be nice and talk to you, so you’re not-”

“-So I’m not miserable? Well, guess what, honey. I’m fuckin’ miserable!” His voice was so loud it shook the wooden cabinets of the kitchen, your tin snowmen rattling on top of the shelves. “I am fuckin’ miserable every Christmas! I would rather be here alone, shovelin’ shit all goddamn night and day than be there!”

The hitch in your breath rang loud and clear in Eddie’s ear, his own face crumpling this time, a shaky hand rubbing across his eyes to try and keep his composure. But how could he? How could he stop the ache in his chest when he remembered the way you looked at him? The way your eyes filled with tears, lip quivering in fear. You hadn’t cried, not in there, atleast. Instead, you waited until you got to the bedroom, pulling out your own little overnight bag and filling it silently.

He’d been so furious, so unfathomably filled with weeks of pent up rage, Eddie had to step out. Fury filled steps, a swinging fist to a post that left his knuckles bloody, splintering into the pale skin that was already blooming with bruises. Eddie really regretted it now, sure he’d broken a knuckle at the way it had swelled, doubled in size and kissed with dark purple, welt-like bruises. Oh, what he would do, what he would give, to have you fuss over it, patch it up and huff at him for doing something so immature.

You didn’t.

Instead, you stayed silent, save for the heart wrenching, hiccupy sniffle you gave when loading your bag into the trunk. Eddie’s body was still buzzing, electric with every ounce of bitter grief he’d tried to ignore.

“Where you goin’?” Eddie gritted, tone sharp, it left you shuddering at the unfamiliar sharpness directed at you.

“You want to shovel shit, since it’s so much better than being with my family.” Your breath stuttered in your chest when you took that breath. One that had Eddie’s heart lurching, nervous system flooding with a damning shock that left his head reeling in fear.

“Better than being with me.” The crack in your voice matched the crack in Eddie’s own heart, splitting it right down the middle.

“I don’t want to make you any more miserable than you already are.” You spat, and suddenly, Eddie longed for the sadness in your tone because the bitterness that replaced it was worse.

Your own boots crunched on the ground, bare with snow and ice, but frozen from the cold. “Have a Merry Christmas by yourself, Eddie.” A hard yank of your car handle, and you were gone.

Eddie watched you go in a horrified stare, your car disappearing down out of his sight in a red flash, feeling like he was watching a movie- a fucked up movie through his own eyes, but not in his own body.

Then he was alone.

Eddie was alone, standing on his family’s land, holding his throbbing hand alone. He was alone then. He was alone later that night, when he crawled into bed, teary eyes and shaking hands grabbing at your pillow, smothering himself with it because it smelled like you- terrified it might be the last time he could smell you. And he was alone now. Sitting in a too still kitchen, in a too quiet house, on Christmas Eve, alone.

The burning threat of tears choked him, bubbling out of his chest and crept up his throat. Through blurred vision, Eddie could see the time. A little past four. He wondered what you were doing, what your family was doing. If your dad had started a card game yet. The same Rummy game he always made sure to deal Eddie in to- always made sure to include him.

If your uncle was on his fourth or fifth glass of eggnog, spiking it with an extra pour of Woodford. He’d always offer Eddie some, slurring and spilling a little onto the festive tablecloth. Drunkenly tell him about his childhood, how he grew up riding horses, the same droning story that Eddie would always nod politely at. He was sloshed through the holidays, but never mean- always a jolly drunk, bellowing laughs through shining eyes. No smashing of plates or bruising grips like Eddie’s childhood Christmases always had.

Or if your mom had got a chance to breathe, pull herself out of the kitchen with your aunts. She’d always hug him so warmly when she’d greet the two of you at the door, fussing over taking your bags and jackets, so happy the two of you were there. She’d even embroidered a stocking for Eddie last year, surprised him with it proudly. He’d nearly cried.

It was a weird feeling. This feeling that he was becoming a part of your family. That they wanted him to be a part of it.

He only had Wayne left, the rest of his family was long gone. It filled him with a grimy, gross feeling how much he enjoyed his time with your family. The sickening thought that he was betraying his own, replacing them and filling in their spots with shiny, new replicas.

Wayne would laugh at him, tell him he should enjoy it, he better enjoy it. “You know Darlene and me go to Florida ev’ry Christmas, boy. You better stick it with ‘er. She’s a good’en.”

Wayne would be furious at him if he knew. Probably take him ‘round back for the way he spoke to you, about your family. Eddie wouldn’t blame him, he was furious at himself for it.

Eddie’s eyes found their way to the mantle, your stocking and his lined side by side. His was full, stuffed with small gifts and goodies you’d cheerily slip in, tongue clicking at him when he’d try to peek. Yours was deflated, sans for a small pair of cabin socks Eddie had got in early November.

The bile in his throat brought him back to his very cruel reality in front of him. He’d been mean to you- he acted like his dad.

Eddie’s stomach lurched, moving to the sink, a shaking hand pulling his hair back, retching into the sink at the revelation. Parallels of his mom and dad, his childhood, how his mom would decorate the house from top to bottom, make it nice and festive for Eddie. His dad would come in, tear it down, mock her for it in a drunken slur. She’d always buy him a gift, make sure Eddie’s stocking was filled with what she could: penny candies, knitted gloves, dented wacky packs from the discount store. Eddie would make her an ornament, his Mamaw Munson would get her a little gift, but never his dad. Her stocking was always empty.

A choked sob caught in Eddie’s throat, vomit spewing into the shiny surface under him. Clammy forehead pressed to the cool countertop, he took a deep, shaky sob to try and keep the cry in. The mangled sob that shook his core, rattled his lungs, burned all the way from his stomach to his nose.

Calloused hands wiped at his wet cheeks, chapped from the cold, giving a fierce sniffle. Eddie felt eight again, noticing for the first time the way his mother’s eyes dimmed, how she tried to hide it when she opened the empty stocking. She had been hopeful that there had been something in there, that this year his dad would remember her, be better. He never was.

Eddie couldn’t be him, he wouldn’t be. He’d already reflected him in every way, too much for his own comfort lately- screaming at you, that rage that tore through him, bloody knuckles and aching throat that was leaving you in tears.

As his shaking fingers turned the dial, cradling the phone to his ear, he hoped you would answer- that he could just get to you, talk to you. Your mother’s cheery voice rang over the phone instead, a happy roar of chatter mixed with music playing behind her voice.

“Oh, Ed?” Your mother’s voice sounded concerned, he could practically see her frown, one you inherited. “Are you feeling better, hon? We miss you. I’m sending your stocking and gifts home- well, not the stocking, I’ll keep that but what’s inside.”

You’d told them he was sick, covered for him- just like his mom used to do for his dad. The kindness in her tone nearly sent Eddie over the edge, pulling the receiver away to take a breath, to keep the sob from coming out.

“Ed?” Your mom tried again. “Are you there?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m sorry. I just… Is s-she around?” Eddie’s voice was tight with emotion, and he knew if he said your name, it would break whatever facade he’s mustered at the moment.

“Uh-huh, one second.” A staticy rustle filled the receiver, your name muffled and falling from your mom’s lips.

Eddie didn’t realize he was holding his breath, until he released it, a desperate sigh of relief when you took the phone. “Hello?”

“H-Hi, baby.” Eddie tried, hoping his voice was soft enough, gentler now- than the last time he talked to you.

“Hi.” You bit, through gritted teeth, dragging the chord of the phone into the hall with you. “What do you want? I’m with my family.”

His water line brimmed again, overflowing with angry tears. “Yeah, I know, honey. I’m sorry, I just,” Eddie took a deep breath, stuttering in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Your own lip wobbled, fresh with tears. You’d pulled into your parents drive the night before, eyes red rimmed from your cry, telling them something about the hay and your allergies. They’d believed you, pulled you in with a warm hug. It was nice, comforting at your home, surrounded by your family until you were asleep. A bed had never felt so cold.

“I don’t-” You grit, trying to keep your own emotions in. “This is why you called me?”

Eddie flinched at the venom in your own tone. “I am sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby, you don’t even kno-ow.” Eddie’s chest stuttered. “I didn’t mean any of that, I swear. I was- I’m just… I’m not doing great this year, baby.”

Your heart jumped at the shake in his tone, the rawness of his words. “You really hurt my feelings, Ed.” You admitted, your voice smaller. “I don’t- I don’t know why you don’t like my family. They love you-”

“-I don’t.” Eddie shook his head, fist balled around the phone. “I didn’t mean any of that. I love your family, I-I love you.”

“So, you said all of that, why?” You scoffed lowly.

Eddie’s knee bounced. He hadn’t expected you just to forgive him, but it was still hard- hard when you weren’t here, when you were away and hurt, and he was alone and miserable.

Miserable, the single word in the world he wished to never say or hear again.

“I…” Eddie’s hand threaded through his matted locks. “I don’t know. It’s weird. Not- no, no, no, not you or- fuck, that’s not what I meant.” Eddie rambled stupidly.

“I feel weird about being with your family on Christmas because…I like it.” Eddie’s vision was blurred, watery with tears. “It’s just different from what I grew up with, and… and I don’t know, sometimes it’s just, it’s overwhelming, baby.”

You stayed silent on the other end, the only sound signaling you were still on the line was the faint yells and mummers of your family, only making Eddie’s heart ache even more. “They’re all so nice, it-it makes me… I didn’t have that. My family didn’t have that, and-and every time I’m there it just makes me wish they did.”

The both of you fell into a silence, one that was becoming far too common. Eddie’s heart hammered behind his ribcage. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. This- nothing is your fault, you know that? This is on me. I shouldn’t have ever talked to you like that, said that shit. I’d beat the dog walking shit out of anyone who said that shit about you, and then I say it? That’s just-” Eddie let out a humorless, watery laugh, fist pressed to his forehead in an attempt to extinguish that fury burning through his chest again.

A cleansing breath later, Eddie’s head was in his hands. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, wobbly when he told you. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s… We can talk later, Eddie.” Your voice finally rang through, shaky and unsteady, clutching the phone like it was your life long. “Thank you for calling me. For telling me that.”

The silence settled again, both of you unsure, scared to make the next move.

“I, uh, I wish you were here.” You broke the silence this time. “My family keeps asking about you. They miss you, a lot.”

“I miss you.” Eddie sniveled, wiping his running nose with the back of his hand. “I mean, I miss them too, but I just… I miss you a lot.”

A pause, the slight clear of your throat. “I have to go.” You whispered, voice tight and Eddie knew you were close to tears. “I have to help my mom set the table, but… I’ll call you tonight.”

“I love you.” Eddie blurted, sacred he might forget to say it with how his head was swimming. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“I know.” Your voice was soft. It made Eddie’s stomach lurch all over again.

The line droned in a steady beep after your receiver clicked. Eddie held the phone there, eyes shining dully with unshed tears in the lights of the strung decorations. A defeated slump in his shoulders. He didn’t feel any better, worse if anything.

Eddie was surrounded by a deafening silence, the house too quiet. Too quiet to be Christmas. Too quiet without you.

The soft glow from the barn pulled Eddie’s attention, the doors pulled to keep the heat in for the horses. He twisted the phone in his palms, turning it over in his hands gently before jabbing his fingers back into the dial.

The line rang once, twice, nearly a third before it was answered.

“Gare, hey, I’ve got a big ask…”

“Honey,” Your mom’s eyes squinted, yellow rubber gloves dunked into the soapy warm water in front of her. “I thought you said Ed wasn’t coming.”

You nearly dropped the plate you were drying, breath caught in your throat. “What?” You hissed, leaning to look out the small window over the sink. Sure enough, there in the dark, snow covered driveway was Eddie’s truck.

“I-I didn’t think he was.” You shook your head, setting the plate down gently. “He said he wasn’t feeling well. I’m just- I’ll be right back.” Slipping on your boots, not bothering to lace them, you stepped outside into the frigid cold of the night.

Eddie didn’t see you, back turned, grabbing armfulls of bags out of the back seat. “What are you doing here?”

He jumped, nearly dropping your aunt’s present, eyes wide when he turned. “Shit, I-I…” Eddie’s tongue tied, jumbled and thick in his mouth. He didn’t expect to see you, standing there, in your little Christmas sweater that had his heart swelling. He wanted to kiss you, coo at you for being so cute, get you all blushy and giggle at his compliments.

Your lifted brow, arms crossed over your chest protectively stopped him. “I wanted to give your family their gifts. I-I was just going to leave them on the porch and tell you when I called tonight.”

Your foot twisted into the snow, eyes cast downward. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I did.” Eddie nodded firmly. “They’re not- It’s not great. The mall was closing early so I had to kinda rush, but, uh, I wanted to get them something.” He looked at you, eyes shining with emotion. “Wanted to get you something too.”

Your stocking was hooked onto his left pointer finger, a crooked bend of the knitted fabric, hanging heavy and filled with tiny trinkets and things that ruffled. You looked at it carefully, face quipping just barely, but Eddie caught it. “I didn’t want you to think I forgot about you.” Eddie muttered lowly, breath showing under the glow of the lights.

“Thank you.” You nodded, swallowing thickly around your words. “I can help you take them in.”

“No,” Eddie shook his head. “I don’t want to… I know you don’t want to be with me right now, baby, and I get it. I’ll just drop them off-”

“-Come inside.” You sighed, arms still tight around his chest. “My mom already saw you. It’s just easier for you to come in.”

Eddie tried to hide the hurt he felt with a simple nod. “I don’t want to ruin your Christmas.” He muttered softly. “More than I already have.”

“Eddie,” You sounded tired, words heavy with emotion, exhaustion maybe. “Come inside.” Your eyes lifted to his, so sweet, nearly pleading he was sure he might sob. “There’s still leftovers. I’ll heat them up for you.”

So Eddie followed you inside, gifts under his arms, letting your family greet him warmly, chocking his red eyes and matching nose up to the hay fever he’d been having. Your mom fixed him a plate, poured you both a glass of mulled wine.

In the tiny bed of your childhood room, the two of you talked in hushed voices, silent apologies traded over soft touches.

“I didn’t mean it.” Eddie whispered, nose pushing into your neck. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” You nodded, and you did. Even if it still hurt, still wounded from the words, you knew that was true.

Eddie’s cheek pressed against your shoulder, hands grabbing at you, pulling you closer and closer like at any moment you might disappear from his clutches. “My mom,” His voice cracked, eyes pinching shut. “She used to love Christmas.”

“Really?” You hum, tone as even as it could be with the shock. Eddie never spoke about his mother.

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “She, uh, she used to decorate every Thanksgiving. Pull out the tree after dinner, put it up. My dad,” Eddie swallowed around the bitter title. “He was always passed out by then, so she could do it pretty quickly. Get it up and ready before he’d wake up and bitch. It wasn’t a lot, a tree and some other stuff, but I’d always help her. She-She always let me put the angel on top.”

You weren’t sure what to say, what you were supposed to say. Eddie’s mom was a sensitive spot. One he didn’t talk about much, at all, really.

“She would really like your family.” Eddie’s voice was small, a rarity. Always the loud, rough and tough cowboy, commanding wild bucks all day. Small wasn’t in his vocabulary.

“They would have really liked her.” You said slowly, vibrations from your voice tickling Eddie’s ear.

Eddie knew it was true. He felt stupid, really, waves of horrible guilt crashing over him again as he clung tighter to you. Your family wasn’t the enemy, wasn’t one to try and replace his own family, just an extension.

He meant what he said, that his Mama would like your family. He already knew she’d love you, simply because he did. He hoped it was true, that your family would’ve loved her. He knew deep down they would have, that they would welcome her with the same warmth that they gave him.

That they’d always make sure her stocking was full on Christmas morning, because they always made sure his was.

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norrisleclercf1 · 5 months

Text

Just Come Home To Us

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Female!Reader x Lando Norris

Rating: R

Words: 3.8K

Warnings: Angst, some fluff, Smut, oral (both receiving), p in v, wrap it before you tap it, I'm sure there is some other, also this smut not the best written but hey I finished it

Our Boy Series Masterlist/ Previous: Memories of Old and New / Next: They're My Future, You're The Past

Synopsis: Things are never easy, even when you want to come home.

A/n: One more chapter before the end of Our Boy Main Story!

4 months have passed since that morning after the Monaco Grand Prix. 4 months since your husband kicked you out of the house and their lives. Painful nights alone, filled with tears and nightmares, the only comfort has been talking to Elijah and Cecile every day. Elijah was the ever-good son, telling you Charles and Lando were far from okay.

His Papa was back in therapy and felt he wasn't ready to see you, not because of the fight, but because he wanted to better himself first. You kept your mouth shut, refusing to let anger cloud your son's judgment of his Papa. Lando, Cecile told you that he was holding everyone together, but she worried no one was there for him.

It made your heart clench. Lando was the younger of you 3 and always in the middle whenever you and Charles argued. Closing your eyes, you suck in the bone-chilling air of Finnish winter. "Eh, don't fall asleep on me!" With an ache in your neck, you see your father on his snowmobile, grinning. The same grin he'd give Uncle David or Michael before a race.

"I'm not old man, just enjoying the fresh air." Words are falling off, and the blanket of white surrounding you has your eyes burning. "Just call," Mika whispers, knowing what you're thinking. He could always see those thoughts whirling in your head. An open book is what he liked to call you. "No," Your father mumbles something about how stubborn you are, kicking off the engine and leaving you as he goes through the private course again.

Why should you have to call? Charles was the one who wouldn't let you explain, even listen to you. He did what he always did: reacted first. A defense mechanism you have experienced one too many times. And this was the last time you'd be subjected to it. Charles has ripped your family apart more than once; this may be the time he succeeded.

Kicking your own engine, you follow your father to the top of the point, seeing him staring out. "He should be the one to call!" You yell, the wind whipping around you. It was a lashing you have missed, the cold turning your blood to ice and making your lungs expand to suck in the crisp air. "Why?" You hated when Mika did this. He wouldn't take your side. He said that while he loved you, that doesn't mean he'll always defend you. Sometimes, the child must fight their own battle to determine if the war is worth it.

"Why?" You trudge through the snow, stopping next to your father. Memories of being a little girl, learning harsh lessons, and the screaming matches of forming your own path. "Because he kicked me out and told me to leave. And I did. He ripped this family apart, not me." Mika turns, and you shrink back. Even after the words left, you felt their poison seep in. "The truth is a paper cut, but the lies are the bullet wounds. You did not help your cause when you continued to lie to those men. Good men who have given you a wonderful family and two gorgeous children." Mika sighs, fixing his glasses.

"You think I don't know this? What do you want me to say? That I lost sleep, sometimes sick to my own stomach, when I watched Elijah grow up? Or when Charles would whisper how much he loved Elijah and me? Because I did. I've hated myself for 16 years; for 16 years, I have lied to the greatest loves of my life. I thought Nico was my air, but he was sea. Swallowing me whole and drowning me. But Charles," You break off, swallowing your tears. "And Lando, they gave me air; for once, I remembered what breathing was like. FUCK!" You scream out into the mountain air.

"When your mother died, I felt my world slip out from under me. When you started to act out, a part of me felt like I failed. You started to date Nico, and for once, I thought you were okay. Instead, you were slowly dying inside. If your mother was here, she'd kick my ass and then yours." You laugh, wiping your tears, the cold making them burn like acid. "I failed my babies," Mika shakes his head, facing you.

"You didn't. You never failed those children, just yourself. And that's okay. Because no matter how old you get, you're still a child. My child and we Häkkinens don't make things easy. Just ask your Uncle David." You laugh, remembering how Uncle David would tell you stories about your father. "I miss them. I feel like I'm missing pieces of myself." You whisper.

"I should hate Charles for the pain he caused me, but then I remember all the pain he's been through. We're both hurt, Daddy, so I fear we might harm Lando sometimes." Mika chuckles, still picturing you 3 as the 20-something-year-olds back in the 2020s. "He's stronger than you think, trust me." Nodding, the two of you drive back down to your cabin. Slowing, you see a blacked-out SUV. "Who is that?" Mika shrugs as he stalks to his own car. "Don't know! See you tomorrow for dinner!" Scrunching your eyebrows together, you open the front door, heat greeting you.

"Hello?" Slowly entering your cabin, you stop seeing the familiar old, worn-out McLaren jacket. "Lando?" You call, boots pounding as you round the corner and stop seeing the mop of curls with little bits of grey now in them. He turns and stops, and both of you stare at one another. "Hey, gorgeous." Hearing that accent, those green-blue eyes stare at you, and everything comes crashing down. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry." You sob, crumbling to the floor.

Whatever he was doing is forgotten as he rushes to you, falling to the floor with you as his arms circle around you. "Don't apologize, please don't." He whimpers, his beard tickling you, and you cry harder, hating how much you've missed that ridiculous beard. "You're here, you're here." You repeat and pull back, exchanging messy kisses and words. "Of course I am. It's been a horrible four months. We would've come sooner, but work and," You shut him up by kissing him deeply.

Lando groans, hands digging into your snow jacket as he relaxes. Pulling apart, you take note of his words. "What do you mean, we?" "He means us." You give yourself whiplash with how fast you look up. Charles stands there, face taunt and glasses hanging onto the end of his nose. You and Lando always say Charles has aged with grace, but right now, he looks like his 26-year-old self again. And it still has your heart skip a beat. Standing, you two stare at one another as Lando looks between you.

Without a second thought, you rush Charles, and with waiting arms, he accepts you into them. "I've missed you," Whisper of words pass between you two, but he swallows them with his mouth. "Don't talk," He groans, ripping your layers off as Lando whimpers, watching you two. "Come here, baby boy." Lando blushes and grumbles about how he isn't a baby anymore. "You're still our baby," Charles's fingers tug Lando's curls, which has him staggering into you two.

"Where's the room?" Lando asks as Charles bites and sucks marks into his neck. "Down the hall to the left," You moan as Charles moves to your neck and leads you with a tangle of limbs to the bedroom. Shoving the door open, you three stagger in as they make work of your clothes. Charles stops, lifts you up by your legs, and drops you flat on your back. "Charlie," Lando whines as he lays Lando beside you.

Your husband leans back, taking in the wreck messes that are you and Lando. "I haven't even fucked either of you, and you're both so wrecked for me." Lando rolls his eyes, and you do, too, with Charles smiling. "That was stupid, Charlie. We're not young anymore." Lando teases and leans up, pulling him down by his necklace. Their kiss is soft, filled with love and emotion, and you swear you feel that hurt grow again.

Lando pulls away, gently pulling Charles's bottom lip. Leaning up, Lando whispers something to Charles, who has his eyes cut to you and grow dark. "You're right, baby." Charles presses a kiss to Lando's cheek and moves to you. His fingers brush your jaw and then cup it, pulling you up. "Still as breathtaking as the day I met you in the street." He places a soft kiss on your neck.

"A wonderful mother," Another kiss, and with each praise, he places a kiss before he kisses your lips. "I've missed you more than air," Raising your arms, he helps you out of your shirt, and Lando removes your pants. "Don't leave me again, please." Charles doesn't let you answer as he swallows your words, straddling you on the bed.

"Easy, Charles. You both need air." Lando reminds me of which has you breaking apart, chests raising and falling. He leans in, pecking you both on the lips. "I love you both so much," Lando whispers and pushes you down, smiling at you both. "Take off your clothes," Charles groans, hating that Lando is still fully clothed. "Who's needy for me now." Laughing, you help Lando out of his clothes.

"Still a pretty cock, for an old man." Charles's fingers wrap around him, which makes Lando shiver. "Speak for yourself; you're older than me." Charles chuckles, gently jerking Lando off. But Lando doesn't ignore you as he leans down, kisses, licking, and biting his way down, but he stops looking up at you. "I love you," He mouths before closing his eyes as his lips have you gasping.

"Oh, fuck." Arching your hips up, Lando's large hand pushes you back down and makes eye contact. "Does she still taste like heaven?" Charles rumbles, pulling his hand away from Lando, who whines at losing Charles's touch. Lando moans when your fingers tug at his curls each time he curls his tongue. "Mh, Lan-" You moan louder when Charles bites one of your nipples and ruts up into Lando's mouth.

Lando pulls away, and you whimper as you are close, but he shakes his head. "Charles, come here. I think you owe our girl a perfect apology." Charles pulls off with a pop and smiles. "I think you're right." Charles moves and stands off the bed, and Lando bites his lip. "Kinda jealous," Charles laughs and pulls Lando into a searing kiss. "Don't worry, you're next." Your toes curl when you feel Charles nudge you as he gets comfortable between your legs.

"Are you okay?" You stop and think this over. It probably wasn't wise to have sex before talking things through, but damn, you've missed them too much. "Yes, fuck yes, just," Charles moves and slides into you slowly, which has you whimpering. "Easy, you're okay," Charles whispers, dropping over you. His arms cage your head, taking deep breaths to calm himself. "See, old." Charles whips a hand out and twists Lando's nipple, which has him squeak.

"Jesus, just fuck me, Charles." The two look at you and stop laughing. "Watch your tone." Charles pulls back and slams back into you, which pulls out a whimpering moan. "Lando, you can fuck my mouth." Lando whimpers, hearing that, and the boys move. Charles pulls you close, and he moves in slow thrusts, and Lando gets comfortable for you both.

"I have missed this mouth. Charlie is good. But you're better." Lando whispers, peppering kisses all over your face. "Missed you too," Opening your mouth, Lando lets you swallow him as he whimpers, screwing his eyes shut. You don't know where your mind went, but every lousy thought has gone away with the two of them here. You've missed them both so much that having them close to you has made you fuzzy.

"Fuck, baby." Charles groans and drops down, covering your body with his as Lando's hips and Charles's move faster. Lando whimpers pulls away, and wraps his hand around. Charles bats his hand away and takes Lando down his throat, which has you whimpering and clamping down on your husband coming. Lando gasps as Charles sucks him dry, pushing Charles off as he drops to the bed, panting. The three of you are a mess.

"Don't leave me," Charles whispers as you tangle his hair with your fingers. Exhaustion seeps into your bones, and darkness takes you over.

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

Charles doesn't know when he wakes; all he remembers is tensing and his eyes flying open. Warmth covers him front to back, and something soft is wrapped around the warmth. Scanning the room, he groans. Memories of the flight, Mika helping them into your cabin, you coming back, the sex. Fuck, he shouldn't have done that. But he missed you, having you wrapped around him as he pulled you apart.

Eyes move up, taking in Lando's puffed cheeks and mushed curls. He loved watching you both sleep; it was when you were more at peace. Rolling over, he feels his body go rigid. You weren't there, fuck did you leave. Slipping out of his husband's hold, he places a few soft kisses over the marks he has left. "Be back," Lando whines but settles back down.

Bending down, Charles slides on some sweatpants and follows the light. He stops when he sees you sitting by the low fire on the phone. "I know, baby. I'm glad you and Cecile are having fun with Uncle Carlos." Charles leans against the frame, watching. "Yes, Papa and Daddy are here," Elijah must say something because your face scrunches up.

"I don't know, honey. Um, Pa...Charles said some stuff during our fight that hurt. So I don't know if we'll get back together." Charles loses his smile and stands up straight. "Elijah, I understand you want me to talk to him, but.....listen. You tell Cecile that I'm okay. Also, please don't give Carlos a hard time, alright. Also look after the twins, oh remember that Oscar's daughter is coming to visit. Yes, Victoria. No, Elijah, don't fight with her. Just, okay, yeah, bye." Hanging up the phone, Charles quickly bolts into the bedroom.

Lying down, Lando immediately attaches himself to Charles. The door creaks open, and you slide into the bed. But you don't cuddle into Charles; instead, you roll onto your other side, back facing him.

He was losing you.

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

"But, it's snowing, and I think it would be nice," Lando begs, trying to get you and Charles to do something together. "Exactly, it's snowing, and we're in Finland. It's not exactly a British winter." Charles grumbles into his coffee. "Yn, pretty please. This is the first time we're in your home country. I want to see it." Lando makes his eyes big, and Charles looks away quickly.

You groan as Lando starts to smirk, knowing he's got you. "Fine, there is a trail we can take that the locals use. It's about 2 hours, both ways." Lando cheers and rushes to the bedroom. The tension rolls off of you and Charles in thick waves. Putting down his mug, he stands and leaves you with no words or kisses.

45 minutes later, with multiple layers of clothing, you trail behind Lando, who talks Charles's ear off. "Yes, Lando, I know that." Charles smiles, kissing him gently as Lando takes a picture of the snow-covered mountains. It's another 15 minutes before Lando gets tired of you two not talking.

"Cecile was wondering if she came here and visited you," Charles staggers, but Lando catches him without a beat. "Really? I guess the kids could come here and visit." It never occurred to you that they could come out and visit. "Yeah, it's a great idea, don't you think?" Charles stops walking as you pass him, smiling.

"You could come home," Charles whispers, cheeks dusted pink from the cold weather. The scuff you let out had Lando's shoulders tense. He could feel the fight coming a mile away, and this was one place he didn't want to get stuck in the middle. "Do I have a home to come back to? Or will you kick me out again?" The sneer on your lips has Charles's face pulled tighter.

"Charlie, don't." Lando pleads, placing a hand on his chest, wanting him to calm down. "Your home is with us and our kids." Charles's voice was eerily calm, and Lando knew that all hell would break loose with one more comment. "I think you mean my kids. Or did you forget Elijah isn't yours?" It was a low blow, but all the hurt and anger you've felt over the past 4 months was too much. How dare he come here and demand you go home when he's why you're not home.

"You're right, he isn't mine. I don't even think you're mine too." Charles snaps as Lando looks between the two of you. Fear in his eyes, as this could be the end. The end of his family. "You're right! I was never yours! And you know what? I should've divorced you after you kicked Lando out. How he can still stay with you is a fucking miracle." Charles's face goes neutral, the same look he had when Mattia told him off. His emotions are gone.

"When you two get home, I hope Lando has the fucking mind to leave you and take the kids and let your worse fucking nightmare come true!" "ENOUGH!"

Charles and you jump, turning to see Lando standing there, breathing hard. "Just enough. Please?" He begs the emotions and thoughts he's held together, snapping. "What the fuck is the matter with you? The both of you?" Charles has the mind to look ashamed, as do you. "How could you say those horrible things to one another? We're married! We have TWO gorgeous children and a wonderful life. I know I wasn't there initially, that Charles held you together. That you told a lie because you were hurt and trying to not let it all kill you, but fuck."

"Y/n," Lando turns, looking at you, before taking a deep breath. "What you've done, said, it hurt. You manipulated us in a way that has cracked this marriage in a way we'll never recover from. But, you know what. I don't care. I don't; you're the love of my life and the mother of my two gorgeous, brilliant, talented children. You could kill me, and I'd forgive you. But you are holding onto such hate inside you for Nico that it's hurting us all. Nico, he," Lando sucks in a breath. "Lando, don't." "Shut up," The two of them stare at one another before Lando looks back at you.

"Nico, he didn't leave you. He bought a new apartment and wrote that letter to tell you how excited he was and how much he loved you. But you never read the letter because you thought he left you. And that's okay because if you had read that letter, you'd have never fallen in love with us, and we wouldn't have Cecile. Y/n, you're not in your 20s anymore. Please, you need that closure when you come home. Because this is not your home, please talk to Nico. There is a piece of you that you're hiding from us because of him, and I have ignored it for 16 years, but no more." Reeling from his words, Lando turns his attention to Charles.

"And you," He points his finger at Charles, who curls back like Lando has slapped him. "Grow up, get over it. She didn't cheat on us, she didn't fuck him while you two were together and then lie. She never told us who the father was; she moved the truth around. I know that losing your father and Jules was the worst pain imaginable and then losing Anthoine, and that was another person who left you. Charles, we're not leaving you, but we will if you keep shoving us away."

Charles looks away as the silence surrounds you. "Charles, Charlie, look at me." Charles looks up, staring deep into Lando's eyes. "Elijah is yours, Cecile is yours. Y/n and I are yours. Never think that will change. Elijah is your little boy, the first person he goes to. Listen to me. We're all going to therapy because I refuse to let this relationship fail. If you two don't get your shit together, I'm taking the kids and leaving. Now, fucking TALK!" Lando screams and shoves past Charles and down the trail, leaving you two some peace.

You two stare at one another; Charles opens his mouth to say something but keeps closing it, unable to say a word.

"You didn't follow me," Charles snaps his eyes, shocked at your words. "For four months, Charlie. You didn't call, text, write, or even ask about me. Four months of hell, and you come here and then demand me to come home." Stepping closer, Charles takes a step back.

"A part of me was scared that when I got here, you'd kick me out. And that terrified me. I don't care that Nico is Elijah's," Charles swallows the words and clears his throat. "I care that you didn't trust me for 16 years. Care enough to tell me the truth. After talking to Nico and reading the letters, I understand why. But, fuck," He rips his hand out of his jacket and wipes the tears away.

"It's all my fault. I went back to therapy and realized that, but a part of it is your fault, too." You scuff, but stop thinking it all over. "He hurt me more than I want to admit. I just wanted to cause him pain, and by causing him pain, I hurt us both." Charles hiccups, wiping away the tears faster. "Four months, that's how long Cecile and you haven't talked to me. We need you home. We'll go to therapy. Hell, I'll stop racing if it means you stay. I'm going to fight for our family." You throw yourself into his arms as you two cry in the snow.

"Also, Lando is ready to kill Nico on command, and so am I. Mika told us what he said to you, and I'll skin that fucker." You laugh as Charles pulls you back into his chest. "Oh, also, could you possibly call your Uncle David off. While commenting, he's destroyed Lando and me, and it's not fun." You laugh louder, but it stops when the crunch of snow has you facing the sound.

"Thank god, can we please go home. I'm about to freeze my balls off, and I know you both love my balls." Lando whines; Charles and you share a look and smile. "Yeah, let's go home."

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

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907 notes · View notes

danikamariewrites · 8 months

Note

can i request a fic with batboys x reader, they’re on a mission in the illyrian steppes and she overhears a few females at the illyrian camps gossip about her having three mates, they call her horrivle names and reader gets really insecure. her mates find out and confront the females, plot twist apparently it’s on of cassians exlovers who is jealous👀👀👀

Jealousy Is A Bad Look

Poly!batboys x reader

A/n: I love jealous bat boys so this is feeding my obsession with them

Warnings: bullying and name calling

As you walked back through the market you took in the Illyrians mingling and working. You wanted to keep yourself busy while your mates are in their meeting. Spotting a stand with wildflowers you stop to inspect them. You smile as you see your favorites and ask the female to make a bouquet for you.

While you wait you look around at the other vendors. You might sound crazy if you ever voiced this to your mates, but you loved being in the mountains at the start of winter. The snow fell in flurries that wrapped around you. The air is cold and crisp, fresher than in Velaris.

A horrifying cackle sounds from behind you from the midst of a group of females spreading camp gossip. The one that cackled noticed you and gasped. You were quite noticable up here since you didn't have wings.

"That's her." She whispered very, very loudly. "Our new High Lady apparently. Perfect y/n over there is mated to the High Lord and the other two bastard brutes." Her tone was condescending and taunting which you had no patience for.

You scowled at the group. One of the females' cheeks turned crimson from your attention as she looked back at her friends murmuring some insult probably.

The main one, you think her name is Myla, kept throwing insult after insult at you. Spreading rumors to her friends and hoping the whole camp will hear. "I think she's just a gold-digging whore. Not Cassian's type. But I can't say anything for the other two."

The florist hands you the bouquet, you snatch it and stuff it into your basket. You quickly head for the path back to the cabin, practically stomping your feet.

You were fuming. How dare she say those things about you! And your mates! And how would she know what Cassian likes? Myla definitely isn't something Cassian would like.

Before you knew it you were back at the cabin. You flung the door open and dropped the basket by the front door, marching yourself over to an armchair. Plopping down you sink back into the oversized piece of furniture crossing your arms. You face the fireplace huffing.

Going over Myla's words again and again you start to swing your feet. You take deep breathes reminding yourself that she isn't the first person to judge you and your relationship, and she won't be the last.

You hear three sets of wings flapping wildly, three sets of feet landing hard on the frozen ground just outside the front door. Rhys flung the door open, Cassian and Azriel trying to push in behind him. "Darling we felt you down the bond. What's wrong? Are you alright?" You didn’t realize that you had been projecting your feelings.

Rhys and Cassian kneel in front of you while Azriel stands next to you, gently rubbing at your shoulders. Worry clear in their faces. You take in each of them letting out a deep sigh. “Did someone hurt you?” Azriel practically growled out.

You shake your head no. “No, no. Just some females talking about me and our relationship.” They all seem to tense at that. Rhys takes your hands in his large ones. “What did they say?”

“That it this isn’t real. And they don’t understand how you picked me, that I’m a gold-digging whore and all that.” You could feel the anger rolling off them, Cassian especially. “Sweetheart, who said this?” Taking another deep breath you close your eyes and exhale.

You didn’t want this to cause any problems. But if you don’t tell them it will eat at you and them. “Myla.” Cassian shoots up so fast Azriel has to grip his shoulder to keep him in place. Rhys stands trying to calm him. “Don’t do anything rash Cass. If you do something it won’t end well.”

Your eyes dart between the three of them. Your mind is racing about what the silent conversation between them is. Cassian was clearly fuming and wasn’t calming down until you say something. “Cass,” you whisper, “look at me.” You stand pulling him into the chair, placing yourself on his lap. Wrapping your arms around his wide shoulders you place your face in his neck.

Cassian relaxed under your touch and he pulls you in tighter. “It’s ok Cass. It’s not a big deal.” He sighs through his nose. Cassian looks at Rhys and Az, fury swirling in his hazel eyes.

The next afternoon you accompanied them to a meeting including the other leaders and higher-ups of the camp. You spotted Lord Devlon speaking with another male in similar Illyrian leathers. You stop thinking about the male and take your seat between Rhys and Cassian. Reaching under the table you give Cassian’s hand a loving squeeze with a small smile which he returns.

Facing the room your eyes go wide as you watch Myla stride over to Devlon and the other male. You hear the male introduce her as his daughter. You look at Cassian, his face set in anger. “Anything else you want to tell me about her?” You whisper. “She’s my ex.” He bites out. Your eyes go wide at the confession.

You feel Rhys gently caress your mind, “She means nothing to him. Remember he’s with you, we’re with you. She was always jealous she couldn’t have Cassian and now you do. Hell, you have all three of us.” He breathes out a laugh.

Rhys is right. The Mother matched you with the three of them. You didn’t need to angry with her. Honestly now you just wanted to make her jealous. You give Rhys a quick peck on his cheek, then wave Azriel down from his standing position behind you and kiss him as well. At this point everyone is seated as you turn to Cassian.

You can feel Myla’s eyes on you. You catch her unpleasant face out of the corner of your eye and smirk. Placing your hand on the back of his neck you pull him into you, giving him a deep quick kiss. After you break apart Cass smirks. Myla dramatically groans standing from the table. She rushes out the door and slams it behind her.

Azriel hides his laugh behind a cough. Rhys clears his throat, “Well, now that that’s done with shall get started?”

tags: @rigelus @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris @twsssmlmaa

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #cassian acotar #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand x reader #azriel acotar #cassian acotar x reader #rhysand acotar #poly!batboys x reader #poly!batboys #poly!batboys x you #rhysand imagine #rhysand #cassian fanfic #cassian x reader

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nariism · 8 months

Text

i loved you on a moonlit summer night

pair. diluc ragnvindr x gn!reader

content: tooth-rotting fluff, love at first sight, allusions to reincarnation but no actual instances of reincarnation

synopsis. diluc knows that he doesn't belong in mondstadt anymore. he doesn't belong anywhere— no place to truly call home and nothing in this world but vengeance in his heart. but on a wintery day on dragonspine, he finds his salvation: a box of cecelias, a fire seelie, and the owner of the best flower shop in the city.

wc. 8.4k

a/n: thank you to my beautiful @hyomagiri for beta reading, helping edit and hyping this fic up to the max. i ended up feeling confident enough to post this because of her, three cheers for ellie i love you to the moon and back <3

WINTER

It wasn’t his fault. How was he supposed to know that buried beneath blankets of snow and sheets of ice, there would be Cecelias?

Fire seelies are usually reliable with a bounty of treasure waiting at the end of their path. He isn't sure why it led him here, to some inconspicuous pile of snow which he hastily melted without realizing there was something precious hidden within.

The mistake doesn’t register with Diluc until the sweet scent of flowers and ash and burning wood wafts under his nose. He blinks in confusion at the pile, perfectly burnt to a crisp and resting at the tip of his boots.

Boxed up flowers? What are they doing out in the middle of the mountain?

He remembers then, a story someone once told him— he can't put a name to the voice but it echoes in the hollow chambers of his heart:

"Did you know that you can preserve the freshness of flowers? All you have to do is box them up nice and tight and store them in the snow."

It's an interesting tidbit of information. He can't for the life of him remember where he heard it from, though.

Wind howls in his ears, powdery snow from over the horizon plowing down the mountainside and into his face. It doesn't deter him from examining the scene. The fire seelie floats just above his shoulder, quiet now as it looks at the pile.

He’s entirely distracted by the sight, unsure of what to make of the strange discovery, until he hears the crunch of snow behind him. With the Fatui lingering around the foot of the mountain, he expects to whip around and face an enemy. He even braces himself to be knocked off his feet by a wild boar.

Instead, his sudden movement frightens you and makes you stumble back until you fall flat onto the ground.

There’s a long pause of silence that stuffs the air, neither you nor him tearing your eyes away from each other. You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, so still that it looks like you've succumbed to the frozen climate of the mountain. He breathes a slow sigh of relief when a wavering exhale leaves your lips in the form of a puff of cloudy air.

The heart resting in his chest stirs. An ancient dull ache, thrumming in the depths of his body as he looks at you in surprise.

Again, there's a voice in his ear. This time, he recognizes it as his father:

"Your mother? I fell in love at first sight."

Growing up, he never quite understood that string of words. First sight? How could someone fall in love at first sight?

Diluc Ragnvindr is a million things, but romantic is not one of them. Love at first sight is a silly fairytale that parents tell their children to tuck them into bed. It's something that could never exist in such a cruel world, plagued by monsters and evil.

It's easy for him to close his heart off to the idea of something as ridiculous as love at first sight, despite the way his eyes haven't left yours. And he's painfully aware of the way you're looking at him too, but he does his best to ignore your gawking.

Maybe he's catching a cold. He doesn't feel well all of the sudden.

Your gaze drifts to the pile of ash just behind him and you sigh, putting your head into your hands wet from snow.

"You found my seelie," you murmur, sounding very unimpressed. He blinks at you until you continue, "Those were important, you know. They were for a very special occasion."

Diluc takes in your form, clothes thin and unfit for the snowy conditions of Dragonspine. Even without the chilly altitude of the mountain, this winter in general was particularly bitter. He almost wants to scold you for dressing so thoughtlessly, even though he doesn't know your name.

"My apologies. I will reimburse you whatever the cost, and more."

"It's... not about that," you tell him from your place on the ground, still not looking at him. You seem stressed. His heart squeezes terribly.

"Not about what?"

"Mora."

He falls silent, so quiet that you finally peer up at him wondering whether or not he's even still standing there. And he is, regarding you with a thoughtful expression. His presence is so unnoticeable despite being right in front of you that it makes your skin crawl.

"How can I make it up to you?" He asks, extending his hand for you to take. Your clothes are soaked through already, cold and frozen from the subzero temperature. It doesn't help soothe his worries that he can feel a storm coming. He should get you out of here as soon as possible.

You huff, allowing him to drag you to your feet. It's then that you realize how warm he is, almost hot to the touch. The faint glimmer of a Vision dangles on his hip. Your eyes flicker back to his and he nearly jolts out of his skin.

"Don't worry about it. It's alright," you tell him though you sound disingenuous about it. You're obviously distracted, probably wondering how to explain to your client that their expensive flowers ended up as a pile of ash.

"It was my mistake. Please, let me know if there's anything at all I can do," he replies earnestly.

"Really, it's fine," you sound slightly exasperated by his stubbornness. If it were anyone ordinary, they would have taken your mercy and left you to freeze on the mountain without a second thought.

Diluc Ragnvindr is no ordinary man.

It takes him a moment to realize his hand is still gripping yours rather tightly. He recoils with an awkward cough.

“What are you doing out here in the mountains?” He asks. It dawns on him then what a stupid question it is, since you’ve obviously come to collect your frozen flowers. You tell him anyways:

"I buried some flowers further up the mountain a few days ago," you sigh, "not sure if I can find them anymore, though. That's why I've been following this little one around."

You scratch under the seelie's chin. Well, where you would imagine its chin to be, at least. It seems thrilled by the affection.

"It's going to storm soon. You should head back down the mountain and try again later."

"It's urgent," you insist, ready to brush past him and continue the trek up.

He stops you with your wrist in his hand. "Then please, let me accompany you to the top of the mountain. It isn't safe with the Fatui lingering around. It's the least I could do."

You eye him hesitantly, but then your shoulders relax and you sigh again. "Okay, okay. We should hurry and get out of here, then."

He wordlessly follows you up the trail, watching your movements carefully. While you don't seem suspicious, he can never be too sure when it comes to the Fatui. Save for the rustling of pine trees and the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots, empty silence fills the air.

It drives him crazy. So crazy that he decides to speak.

"What's your name?"

The name that leaves your lips makes him smile. He can only think that it really does suit you.

"My name is–"

"Diluc. Diluc Ragnvindr, right?"

Heat creeps up to his cheeks. Of course you know who he is. He's the most famous person in all of Mondstadt, for Archon's sake.

"I've seen you around the city," you quickly explain, awkwardly fumbling over your words. "And at festivals and such."

Before he can dwell too much on it, your seelie chirps— once, twice, three times as it dives into the snow and slowly melts it away. You suddenly halt in your steps, crouching down to sift through the remainder. An exhale of relief leaves you when you dig out a box, intact and frozen to the touch.

He looks on in curiosity. Your hand brushes the snow off the top of the box and you open it, revealing another couple dozen Cecelias.

"Thank goodness..." and your seelie seems to agree, because it dances around your head with a pleased noise.

You're too busy admiring the flowers to realize the snow has kicked up. He's too busy admiring you to notice, either. It isn't until the seelie dips in front of your face with a panicked garble that you finally tear your eyes away from your box of flowers.

"It started to snow..."

Diluc's gaze drifts from you to the darkening sky. It's much too late to make your way down the mountain. In his time in Snezhnaya he learned one very important rule of surviving the cold: you can't outrun snow.

Your seelie leads you to a small cave in a section of rock, covered in starsilver and crystalflies. There isn't any kindling to make a fire, and he isn't willing to brave this type of storm just for some wood.

Diluc shrugs his coat off his shoulders and wraps it around your shoulders in a single motion. Heat envelops you, warmer than the fire seelie that guided you through the mountains. It’s a warmth that fills you from the pit of your stomach all the way to the tips of your fingers.

The seelie floats between you, trying to do its best to keep the both of you in its light.

It's comfortable and quiet for a while— not a peep from either of you as you listen to the howling of wind and snow outside.

How did Diluc ever end up here?

Bad luck, karma, anything that would explain why he ended up snowed in atop Dragonspine with you— anything at all other than it was in the stars' design that he be with you right here and now. Fate mocks him.

Even worse, there's a voice in his head telling him that this is exactly where he needs to be right now. He's getting a migraine.

Diluc watches you sift through the remaining ashes of the burnt box, trying to see if there's anything you can salvage. Unfortunately, Diluc's Pyro vision was only good for combat and keeping you warm at this moment.

"I'm... really sorry," he says again, looking away sheepishly. He can't bear to look at the disappointment furrowing in your brows.

The sound of a sigh echoes in the cave, and he finally manages to look at you. To his surprise, you're only staring back at him with soft eyes: no contempt, no anger, no disappointment. It makes his heart sink, not only with guilt, but also because there's just something so sweet about you that it makes him want to hold you closer.

"It's okay. At least a majority of them survived. It'll be plenty."

"If you don't mind me asking, what were they for?"

"A bouquet for a wedding. The bride specifically asked for Cecelias, since it was the first bouquet he ever gifted her," there's a fondness on your face that makes him snort. You look at him funny. "What? It's romantic."

"They're just flowers. What's so sentimental about that?"

"They're not just flowers," you frown, scooting a little closer into his side to soak up more of his heat. The fire seelie's light flickers against your face. "Cecelias only grow in extremely windy places. They're illustrious and elegant, even after growing in such harsh conditions. Isn't that just..." you smile at him, slow and warm. "It's beautiful."

Diluc considers your explanation for a moment, tugging his coat around your shoulders tighter. "I suppose so."

"You suppose?" You laugh. "My my, I didn't know Diluc Ragnvindr was so down-to-earth when it comes to romance."

Your laugh is doing terrible things to him. There's something about it that reminds him of the days he spent wandering the Winery as a boy with Kaeya in tow. The nights he would spend catching crystalflies. Times long since passed. He suddenly aches to be back among the grapevines.

"I don't indulge in that sort of thing."

He never could, so long as there was something ugly and bitter and tainted in his heart.

"You've never fallen in love?"

"Not once."

Love like that doesn't exist. Not in a world like this.

He repeats what he believed was true, chants the mantra in his head until he's dizzy as if trying to convince himself that he isn't already lost in you. The warm orange glow of the seelie dances in your eyes, lights up your smile in a way that makes his stomach turn.

I fell in love at first sight. They were words that he couldn't understand until today.

"Is that so?" You muse, slotting your head in the space between his jaw and shoulder. He doesn’t move away. "You're an unusual man, Diluc."

"Maybe I am."

But he knows that the moment he met you, everything was about to change. You don't even dignify him with a glance as you say it:

"Let's fall in love, then."

The demand is simple and he's absolutely positive you're joking. Something in his soul tugs anyway. He swears one thing at that moment: someway, somehow, he'll make it all up to you.

You are, after all, the first person to remind him of home in a long time. Every aspect of you is so comforting and familiar, even if he can't quite place his finger on it yet.

You reach out to pet your seelie, even though you know your hand will phase through it. "You sure did lead me to some strange treasure, hm?"

It trills happily with a little twirl.

Diluc meets you in winter, in the valley between the peaks of Dragonspine. He meets you, and it smells of burnt wood and ash and Cecelias. It's so cold that you can't feel your fingers but you're smiling in the afterglow of a seelie nonetheless, and so is he.

SPRING

He learns that you own the little flower shop at the edge of Mondstadt, just within the front gates of the city.

You're teaching a young girl, Flora, how to nurture them. And he finds it a little endearing, the way you're so gentle not only with Flora but with the flowers you're showing her: daisies and tulips and Windwheel Asters, all of which are in season right now.

Diluc recognizes you when you open back up for spring, surrounded by boxes stuffed with fresh bouquets. You seem to be in a rush getting organized, holding a stack of boxes instead of taking them one by one and clumsily scattering them around so you can go through them.

He stops you by stepping in front of you, two hands on either side of the stack to steady them as you stumble to a halt.

"Diluc?" You peer from around the boxes. He can only see your curious eyes from this angle. He laughs.

"Sorry to interrupt you when you're so busy. Do you need help?"

"Well–" you do a little hop to straighten up the boxes in your arms, "–it would be nice to have an extra set of hands getting everything ready for the Windblume Festival." You contemplate his offer for a brief moment, then ultimately decide against it. "But I would hate to steal you away from your other responsibilities. You're helping with the festival too, right?"

"I owe you one. Think of this as a favour from a friend," he refutes stubbornly.

"I'm sure many would be missing the help of Diluc Ragnvindr," you tease, shifting around so that your body tilts toward him.

It's then that he can finally look at you fully, with a soft orange apron tied around your waist and Windwheel Asters in your hair to match.

One day, you would go on and explain to him that it was sort of like advertising, and that showing off how nice the blooms look as an accessory brought in a lot of business. Right now all it does is render him breathless.

"They can afford to miss me.” He can't help the smile that creeps its way onto his face at the sight of you— he feels silly about it too, like some lovesick little boy.

You hand off the boxes into Diluc's arms. "Can they? I heard you were supplying all of the wine for the festival. That's a tall order," you giggle, bending down to grab another two boxes of flowers.

"It's... manageable," he answers, making a mental note to himself to buy Adelinde dinner some time as a thank you. "What about you? What are all these boxes for?"

"We're holding a flower gifting service in the plaza, on the night of the big party." He looks at you curiously as you continue, "You can send someone you care for a flower or two, or you can send them anonymously if you just wanted to make someone's day!"

"Sounds..."

You smile knowingly. "Romantic?"

Diluc places the boxes down on the ground and pries the lids off, revealing more and more ready-to-bloom flowers. "Yeah. Romantic," he sighs.

"These will all be in full bloom in time for the festival.” You lean down behind him where he's crouched down, until your chin is nearly resting on his shoulder. He's sure his breath hitches so loud that you can hear it.

The following weeks entail complete mayhem. With the end of spring rapidly approaching, excitement buzzes throughout the city. Notably, he overhears many talking about your business and the new flower gifting service.

The Windblume Festival is a special time for Diluc. His father used to take him and Kaeya as children, back when the world was a little happier. On the night of the festival, he stands at the booth contemplating. Unlike a majority of the citizens of Mondstadt, he has not a clue who to give a flower to. Flora frowns.

"Um, mister, are you ever going to write a name down?"

The quill halts just above the piece of paper. "I don't have to sign my name, do I?"

"You can send it as a secret."

Diluc looks up from where he's bent over, observing you from a few feet away. You're conversing with some ladies who are interested in your bouquets. It was a good business idea to do something like this.

He only meant to support your idea as a friend. Now he's conflicted on whether or not he should dare to write your name.

You look absolutely radiant tonight with magical crystal chunks strewn about your hair and a crown of flowers circling your head. He isn't sure he's ever seen someone so beautiful.

He finally decides. When you turn back around to give him your attention, he's gone.

He's sure that will be the end of it, and that after tonight your brief and strange relationship with him will come to an end. But then you come bounding up to him just as he's about to head out.

"Look! A flower!" You exclaim, shoving it into his face. He's pleased that you like the one he picked out for you.

"Yes, I see that. It's nice."

"Nice? Nice?! It's adorable! I've never gotten one before."

He looks at you funny. "Never?"

"Nope," you laugh sheepishly. "I don't really get out much. Too busy running the shop."

He takes the flower from your hands and tucks it just behind your ear, adding it amongst the crown of Asters surrounding you like a halo.

"It suits you.”

"Does it?" You ask him quietly.

His heart beats furiously. How could he ever steel himself when you have such a big smile on your face, adorned with flowers and gemstones?

"Will you dance with me?" The question leaves him before he can stop it. You look at him in wonder, with his fingers brushing the hair from your face. Whatever evil overtakes him in that moment, he'll have to thank later, because without hesitation you're dragging him into the middle of the plaza with glee.

You come to learn that he isn't exactly what you'd call an elegant dancer. He only knows movements that he learned at banquets held by his family— basic steps born from obligation.

"I thought you'd be better at this," you tease, allowing him to pull you along by the waist.

"I don't dance," he huffs. "I haven't in a long time."

"We should dance together more, then."

Diluc sighs, but there's a tiny smile spreading across his face. "I guess we should."

"This flower... do you know what it represents?" You gesture to the bloom tucked behind your ear. He shakes his head and you continue, "It means everlasting love."

He laughs at the irony.

"I see. How... fetching."

"I wonder who it was," you smile to yourself. He thinks you look breathtaking.

Diluc's lips curl at your joy. He twirls you under his arm once, twice, then pulls you back into his body as he considers your words.

"Yes, I wonder who," he mutters with an amused expression that you just barely miss. And he knows exactly who, but he's not sure if he could handle seeing you melt into a lovestruck puddle at his admission.

Diluc dances with you in spring, under the warm glow of lanterns and the taste of grape juice staining his tongue. He dances with you, and it smells of the Windwheel Asters that crown your head and mint jelly on your breath.

He tugs you a little closer, just because.

SUMMER

If you were to ask Diluc how he felt about these big "charity" events, he would scoff in your face and lecture you about how they were nothing more than money traps set up by the Knights of Favonius.

He would say it purely out of spite, of course, mostly because he knows Jean is too kindhearted to allow for such shady business. Openly, at least.

His distaste for the Knights and all they stand for are not hidden deep in his heart. He sneers when there's a casualty— mocks their inefficiency at any given opportunity.

You never knew him to be such a bitter man when it came to the Knights. Diluc was good at keeping up his polite and indifferent charade to their practices.

It wasn't until the beginning of summer when you realized his loathing. It was their own incompetence that led a horde of slimes directly into the city, nearly smashing your little shop to bits.

You've never seen him so furious.

Outwardly, he was simply curt with them. He had only a few choice words lined up when they apologized with their heads hung low, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest.

Inwardly, you could see the anger swimming in his eyes.

That was three weeks ago. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to think that just three weeks ago, they were leading danger straight into your shop and now here they are, asking you to donate to their cause.

"You're sulking," you tell him from across the table. He immediately sits up straight, jaw relaxing.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know," you smile at him, moving one of your pawns forward, "I think the Knights are happy you're here. Relieved, at the very least, that you don't seem mad at them anymore."

He only frowns whilst knocking your pawn over with a bishop. "I wasn't mad at them."

"You were. Even I could tell."

"They almost got you hurt."

"Almost," you remind him with a small huff. "They were just slimes! No harm no foul."

You make a fatal move, but he doesn't even gloat because he's too busy cursing out the Knights in his head.

"I just find it in poor taste that they would ask for your hard-earned Mora after endangering you like that." He shrugs you off nonchalantly, as if you can't see the fire blazing in his eyes at the mere thought of it.

You blink at the chessboard as he checkmates you, slumping back in your seat with a tiny pout. "Once again, you've bested me."

"It seems I have," he says, lips finally twitching up into a small smile.

"Don't you ever get tired of beating me at this game? I sure do."

"That's a shame. Same time tomorrow?"

He watches with a laugh as you grumble in irritation. You can't help but notice how quiet it is, even over the chatter of the people in the plaza. There's something off about him today.

It's clear that he doesn't want to be here, volunteering his time to the Knights for a cause he has no faith in. It was a favour for Jean, he told you, to which you mused that he owed a lot of friends favours.

To be a noble in Mondstadt, and especially the wealthiest, Diluc is obligated to attend all sorts of gatherings he detests. You can see it written all over his face.

"Hey," you call out to him softly, leaning over the table. Your voice is a hush as you tell him: "Let's get out of here."

He glances around. "I'm expected to be here, you know?” He laughs once more, though he seems to be considering your offer. He decides to indulge you. "Where would you like to go?"

You think for a moment, brows furrowed. He watches the minute twitch of your lips, the creases of your smile; everything about you is so alive and beautiful.

Then, you point. You point high, with a breathless giggle.

"There," you say, gesturing toward the giant statue of Barbatos, "let's go up there."

He almost flat out rejects you, wanting to scold you about how dangerous it would be and that, for someone without a vision, you sure do have the gall to even suggest it.

But then he sees the excitement twinkling in your eyes, which are already scrunched up from how big your smile is. How could he refuse?

Diluc ends up trailing behind you, inconspicuously hugging his coat close to his body. You don't realize why until you're standing at the feet of the statue.

You gasp at the bottle of wine tucked into his coat. "Did you steal that?"

"The Winery provided all of this. I would hardly consider it stealing," he chuckles.

You nudge him with your elbow, a grin on your face as you accept the bottle into your hands. "I didn't know you were so sly, Diluc."

"I used to do this all the time when I was a kid."

"Steal wine bottles?" You look at him with wide eyes and an impressed smile.

"The maids forbade me from drinking at the Winery's banquets. Try telling a thirteen year old boy not to do something, see what happens," he huffs in amusement.

"You don't even like wine," you remind him. Diluc only hums in response, grabbing it and stuffing it back into his coat as he takes his first leap up the stone.

"Consider it a gift.” He twists around so he can look down at you where you stand, watching him with a mixture of fascination and horror.

His hand extends to yours. For as many times in this life as he is willing to offer it, you would take it.

He helps haul you up to the very top, barely breaking a sweat as he watches you climb beside him. After all, he withstood countless adversaries in his time in Snezhnaya: climbed mountains as tall as the sky with nothing but his claymore.

When you ask how he's so calm about this, he only tells you that he used to climb to the roof of the manor when he was a boy.

He had a lot of secrets kept caged up in his body, you realized many months ago. Diluc was never too vocal about his time before he returned to Mondstadt.

You do remember, however, that at the banquet they threw for him to celebrate his return home, he seemed cold and indifferent to the warm welcome. In fact, it was like his mind was entirely elsewhere. You can picture the day well— it was the largest order of flowers you'd ever received after all.

You're glad he's settled back into Mondstadt, at least. You just never thought you'd have a chance to actually meet him.

He watches as you nervously teeter over to the edge of the statue, peering down with a nervous gulp. You relax when his hands steady you, gently guiding you to sit down in a more safe position.

"I've never been so high up off the ground!" You cry out toward the city, feet dangling over the edge of the Archon's hands.

"It's nice, isn't it? Much different than the kind of heights you feel on Dragonspine."

You take in a long breath of fresh air, as if savouring the wind at this height. "It's pretty.” You finally conclude. There's a dreamy sigh on your lips that makes him laugh.

He uncorks the bottle he lugged up with him, passing it over to you. Instead of taking it, your head tilts back and he takes the opportunity to pour the wine past your lips himself.

Silence festers between you two as he pours the sweet alcohol into your mouth, all rational thought being carried away by the wind.

He isn't sure how long you stay that way: shoulders touching, hair blowing, and feet dangling in the air. For someone who wanted to climb the statue to see the city, you sure are being shameless in your staring directly at him.

You're looking at him in a way that makes him melt— eyes so laser focused and crinkling with your smile. You look at him like he's the only person in the world. Right now, he might really be that important. His heart swells in his chest.

"What is it?" Speak your mind. Let me hear all your crazy thoughts.

"You came all the way up here with me. You came up here. With me."

You emphasize your point by extending your arms out to your sides, feeling the breeze wash over you.

He knows what’s coming next. You love clichés. And he doesn't stop you, for some reason, when you open your mouth again just as he predicted.

"I think I'm falling for you."

"I would hope not. We're pretty high up in the air."

You swat his arm with a huff, face turning a little more serious. "I mean it!"

Diluc grows quiet, looking out toward the city. His home. The place he grew up, and the place he'll spend the rest of his days. The distant sound of people chattering, water flowing from the fountain, music playing: all sounds he's grown so familiar with and yet—

"I love you."

—he never thought it could be so beautiful until he climbed up here with you.

"You love a lot of things," he muses.

"Like what?"

He looks at you softly. "Like Cecelias. Mondstadt hashbrowns for breakfast. And you say you hate the cold but I know you love it up in Dragonspine— think it looks so pretty with all the snow."

You nod, mulling over his statement before asking: "What else?"

"I know you love that orange apron; Flora's mother sewed it for you herself, didn't she? And you love Anemo slimes, think they're the cutest thing in the world even though I've seen them explode in your face multiple times before."

You're listening to him intently, watching his lips as he lists off all the things he knows about you. And he's been going for so long that you have to wonder if you've really only known him for eight months.

"You love Starfell Lake and making wishes while you blow away Dandelion seeds. You love fire seelies and tea imported from Liyue and going to charity events like this even though you don't owe the Knights any of your time."

Another silence settles between you.

"So I'm a romantic. Even then, you still won't accept that I love you?" You ask him quietly.

He hesitates only for a moment, but you still catch it. "I won't."

"What is it with you and your cynicism about romance?"

"It's not like I don't believe love exists—" He’s looking at you right now, after all: living, breathing proof that Diluc could love something. "—I just... it's not for me."

"Not for you?" You repeat back to him in disbelief. "Love is beautiful, you know. You don't even want to give it a chance?"

You're looking at him earnestly, both hands pressed against the stone of the statue beneath you as you twist to stare him down.

"It's complicated," he murmurs, tearing his eyes away from yours. In his peripherals, he can still see you facing him. He doesn't dare look at you again for the sake of his own resolve.

Love was always a messy emotion for Diluc. To love was to trust completely, to be vulnerable and open. But he's been betrayed one too many times for his heart not to ache at the idea of falling in love so willingly.

It terrifies him— to have someone holding his heart in their hands with the chance that they could crush it into dust with the snap of their fingers.

Diluc was alone for many years in the northern region of Snezhnaya. He's good at being lonely. It's a part of the air he breathes, something engraved deep into his bones, terrible and grim and consuming his flesh until he's nothing.

He hadn't even realized he had grown accustomed to it. Not until he met you. Not until you stole his heart at first sight. Not until you made him understand all those times his father would speak of his mother once she was gone. It was always easier to be alone until he met you, and suddenly you came along and flipped the whole world onto its head.

Now Diluc can't be alone— he was losing the ability to sit in solitary silence without his thoughts screaming in his ears. He was constantly thinking about you. And it was always distracting things, like wondering when he would see your smile next, or when you would ever dance with him again.

Your head falls against his shoulder, hair tickling under his chin as you rest there. As if it were a remnant of eons past, his lips find the crown of your head reflexively. And you don't pull away by any means, allowing him to be affectionate the only way he can and accepting him as he comes.

The words don't need to be said anymore. He already knows. It's a story rewritten a million times over, buried somewhere deep in his soul.

He decides that maybe, just once in this life, it would be okay to take the risk. If it was you, he would be alright.

His arm comes around your waist protectively, pulling you closer into his body as if you'd disappear with the wind if he let go. He holds you there quietly, listening to your soft murmurs.

Diluc Ragnvindr deserves to be loved, is what you're telling him.

And despite the scars littering his body and the chains wrapped around his heart, he allows himself to believe it.

Diluc loves you in the summer, in the hands of the Anemo Archon. He loves you, and it smells of Dandelion Wine and the lingering scent of sweet flowers in your hair and all the things that make him dream of you.

For the first time since he returned to Mondstadt, he doesn't feel alone.

AUTUMN

It's the anniversary.

Diluc remembers the day too well— the smell of blood and flesh and how cold a corpse is. Sometimes it's all he can think about.

He cried when his father passed, as all boys would. Then, a fire replaced the hollow sadness in his heart, something fierce and dangerous and unhinged.

Fierce and dangerous and unhinged. Descriptors that he would consider second nature to him behind closed doors of the Tavern and hidden in the grapevines of the Winery. No one would ever know the real Diluc Ragnvindr, hellbent on vengeance since he was only a boy crying at his father's grave.

It wasn't until you came along that he felt something new blooming within him— something like beautiful flowers and a heartbeat slow and steady as waves on the shore, a yearning so powerful that it displaced the ugly bitterness in his heart.

Nowadays, Diluc felt like a confusing mixture of both light and darkness— treading the thin line that separated him from living in the moment with you, and seeking revenge for the past.

He doesn't realize the conflict within him has been bubbling into a raging fire, tearing him in half from the inside out, until today.

He talked to you about his father once, over a plate of sugar-frosted slime and Liyue imported jasmine tea. It was a day like any other, with you seated across from him having an afternoon snack.

My father liked sugar-frosted slime, he told you. It was the first time he'd ever let it be known that Crepus was on his mind, ever so present. A ghost haunting him. You didn't think much of it. Diluc seemed perfectly content living through his memories.

It was coincidence that brought you here on the exact day the world lost Crepus. Or, perhaps, the nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to get out of bed and come here.

Your son is a wonderful man, is what you first whispered to the grave. And then you couldn't stop the words from pouring out of you, rambling on and on about how he raised a good boy, and how Diluc had taken your heart the moment you laid eyes on him.

He finds you sitting there in the rain with a sad excuse for an umbrella popped up above your head. His father's grave is adorned with flowers of all kinds— a respect that no one had ever paid him before.

You don't realize how much you move him with such a simple act. He had long since lost faith both in the Knights and the citizens that once looked up to his father so much; after all, it was only he and Kaeya who ever came around to visit.

It's not until he crumbles to his knees beside you that you even notice his tears, your smile fading as he looks at you in confusion.

You're not sure you've ever seen Diluc cry before.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, head tilting into your palm when you reach forward to wipe his tears with your thumb.

"Saying hello," you respond as if it's the obvious answer.

"You... huh?"

"It would be rude to fall in love with you without at least introducing myself first."

"You didn't have to do—" Diluc gestures to the grave, "—all this."

You smile. "I wanted to.” And the truth is as simple as that.

You were too good for this world. Something beautiful in a place where only ugliness lives. He almost hates how much hope you give him.

The world was always black and white for Diluc. Recently, he's been finding it hard to distinguish the two.

There was right and there was wrong and there you were teetering between them, balancing hope and despair. It scared him to think of all the ways he could lose you, how he could one day end up bringing flowers to a grave with your name on it just as you did for his father.

What's the point of love if all it ends with is hurt?

He's sniffling, trying to chew on his bottom lip to distract himself from the ache in his chest. You notice his sudden quietness, turning to look at him.

"Hey.” Your voice is soft, as if he would shatter if you even spoke to him wrong right now. He might. "It's just me. It's okay."

"I don't cry. I hate crying," he admits through his tears.

He can't remember when he had cried last. Was it the day he came home? Or was it longer, like during those lonely nights spent hiding away in the mountains? The only vivid memory he has with tears staining his cheeks was the day his father died.

"You don't have to be ashamed of crying," you tell him, using your thumbs to wipe his lashes. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I'm Diluc Ragnvindr. I'm not supposed to cry."

"You're Diluc Ragnvindr," you repeat back slowly, pulling his head toward you and cradling it against your shoulder. "You're human. What's wrong with that?"

Diluc doesn't feel human. He hasn't felt human in a long time. He's been something more like a ghost wandering around the places he used to love. Memories tainted by hatred and grief, it was as if he would never find beauty in this world again.

"I'm not," he breathes. "I'm not anything."

You pry him off of you. He blinks at you through his tears.

"Do you really believe that?"

He goes quiet, only staring at you as he soaks in your earnest eyes.

"I don't know what I am. I don't know what to do in this world anymore."

He's a mess of emotions— he almost wishes he were back in Snezhnaya where everything made sense. Where his entire existence was built up of seeking retribution. To a time when he knew where he belonged.

Diluc Ragnvindr only ever knew revenge. Only ever knew how to inflict pain. Only ever knew how to break kneecaps and hide in shadows and keep his lonely body warm with his Pyro vision.

He doesn't know love. He doesn't know how to do it without fighting the fire burning in his stomach when he grieves—

"You're just Diluc. Do you ever need to be anything more than that?"

—or maybe he hasn't given it the chance it deserves. The chance he deserves.

He realizes then, what love must be. What kept him up at night, the feeling raging in his chest:

There was no corner of Teyvat he could ever call home without you anymore. He belonged here, with you.

And accompanied with this realization is something that he hasn't felt in many years. Peace. A stillness in his body and the calm in his mind which was usually racing with contemplation— something he never thought he would feel again.

And it's because of you. Only you. It would only ever be because of your love.

"Would you accept me as I am?"

You smile. "I always have."

"You don't know who I am. The things I've done."

"Are they that bad?"

"Awful."

You hum in thought, thumb mindlessly brushing his cheek back and forth. "We have all the time in the world for you to explain," you add with another soft smile, "I believe you have your reasons. I believe in you."

He laughs, exhales shaky. "You're insane."

"Am I? But I think you're falling for me anyways."

So what if he is? He can't find a single reason wrong with it anymore.

The rain has started to let up, the world around him lighting up with warm sun. And you look so radiant like this, surrounded by the fog brought in by the storm and shining in sweet sunlight.

"Do you think we have your father’s approval?"

He doesn't have to answer that. Not when you're already leaning in closer to him.

The diminishing pitter-patter of rain against your shabby umbrella fills his ears. You're so close that he swears he can hear your heart thundering in your chest.

Diluc has always been brave; he was a terrible troublemaker of a child that grew into a body too big for a boy— some part of him that he kept locked away for the sake of living his life as his father would have wanted. If he wanted to lead an empire of a business, he would need to grow up eventually.

He's always been brave, but he was still too much of a coward to stop using his father as a way out. Because he knows Crepus would have wanted Diluc to find happiness, not vengeance.

It's about time he stopped being afraid.

"I think he wants me to tell you something."

"And what's that?" You smile.

"That in this life—" he breathes, "—in this and the next and the one after until the stars of Teyvat run out, I will love you."

You snicker. He can feel it rumbling in his own chest. "How romantic," you tease with his breath in your lungs.

He shuts you up with his mouth.

Diluc kisses you in autumn, with the golden leaves of change. Diluc kisses you warm and sweet and long. He can't remember what was filling his senses at that moment. Your bodies were too close for him to care.

WINTER

Winter was always a bothersome season.

Even in his days away from Mondstadt, in all the time he spent roaming the north, he never quite grew accustomed to the freezing temperatures and harsh weather.

When Diluc left for Snezhnaya, he left his childhood behind, too. He abandoned who he was on the doorstep of his manor, put all his funds into the hands of Adelinde with no intent of returning, and left in the middle of the night without a word.

Half of him expected to die. The other half expected to not return by choice.

For the first few months he spent adjusting to the northern climate, he tucked himself away in a hidden cavern away from the Capital where the Tsaritsa resided. He was in no condition to battle, let alone challenge a god.

He spent many days stealthily hunting down lower ranking Fatui— people that no one would miss. At eighteen years old he had enough blood on his hands to guarantee Celestia's smiting. Blood that, as he learned, does not wash off.

He had to teach himself how to travel through thick snow. Through blizzards and hail and subzero temperatures nothing alike to those felt on Dragonspine.

And when he finally returned home, battle worn and hardened and cold, he couldn't stand the snow. Every crunch under his boots reminded him of the times he had to lug around his greatsword through treacherous enemy lines. Even the sound put him on edge for incoming attacks.

It wasn't like he was ever particularly fond of the cold but for a long time, as a boy, he would simply tolerate it. He had his Pyro vision, after all, and it never truly caused him any harm.

When Kaeya received his Cryo vision, things took a turn.

The cold represented nothing but death for Diluc. It was pain and grief and sorrow— loss in magnitudes indescribable to anyone else. It was bloodshed, the terrible stench of flesh, metal on metal. It was homesickness.

There was nothing poetic or beautiful about it. It only reminded him of all the things he had lost.

He would roll his eyes when Venti sang about the first snowfall of the season. His Pyro vision would glow until the ice melted around him. It's impractical, he told you when you first met and he was guiding you back down the mountain. It doesn't do any good except make you slip and fall.

Diluc remembers quite vividly how you snorted at that. And, like always, you went on to say things that would make his head spin. Find beauty in life even where you think it doesn't exist.

He didn't heed your advice all too much, instead grumbling about how his claymore was getting heavy and that he wanted to get back to the Winery as soon as possible.

But then he found that it was hard to ignore your words. Especially when you were showing him exactly how to do it— popping frozen grapes into his mouth that were somehow a little sweeter; mixing him hot cocoa the way your mother taught you; throwing snowballs at him from behind trees and thinking you've won until he nails you straight in the face in retaliation.

Winter always brought a smile to your face. And how could he not smile when you are?

The best part of it all was that the cold made you cling to him a little closer. A little tighter. So close that he swears he can hear your heart beating in his own ears, savouring his warmth unlike anyone he'd ever met before.

"My personal fire seelie," you joked once. He pinched your cheek until you slapped his hand away and buried your face back into his chest.

Diluc is pretty certain that he hasn't been this happy in a long time. Not since before his father passed, at least. Even with the nervous sigh that leaves him, you're urging him forward.

"I can't believe you never learned how to skate!"

"It's... not something noble families would have approved of."

"But you have this whole lake in your backyard!" You gawk. He only stifles a laugh, stumbling clumsily into your arms. You catch him as if you'd done it a thousand times before.

"Show me how it's done."

"It's like dancing," you say with an encouraging grin, pulling him along with you slowly. You're half right. Some aspects of it do remind him of a warm spring night, with music playing and your laughter in his ears. On the other hand, he can't seem to keep his skates straight.

"The ice won't fall through, right?" He murmurs anxiously, nodding at the Pyro vision hung on his belt.

"If it does, I'll save you!"

"I don't think you'd be able to carry me up from the water," he deadpans.

"I'd save you," you insist.

"Really?"

"Yes, really! For as many times as you need me to save you, I will."

And you did save him. Though, that statement is better left unspoken for the sake of the heat rising to his cheeks. Instead, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you," he whispers into your skin.

Find beauty in life. Another set of words he never thought he would understand. But he's staring at beauty right in its face and it smells like Cecelias. Dances like a shooting star. Loves unconditionally.

Diluc always loathed winter, until you redefined it into a thing he missed dearly—

Home.

crossposted to ao3!

🏷️ @rintosei hi babe its up <3

#— whispers in the wind ✧#seriously thank you to ellie #everyone go give her a big hug she deserves the world #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

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kingtomura · 10 days

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Deja Vu | 2 | The Girl Who Cried Wolf

summary: Your best friend died years ago. He went up in flames until there was nothing left — so why does it feel like you can still see him sometimes? content: touya todoroki x female reader, childhood friends au, reader has a quirk, time skipping, flashbacks, fluff, heavy angst, soft touya, hurt/comfort, tragedy, virginity loss, vaginal fingering, piv, smut with feelings, mdni wc: 9.2k | Prev | Chapter 3 | m. list | read on ao3

You’ve never been good at hide-and-seek.

“Touya,” you yell into the crisp air of the forest, “this isn’t funny!” You’ve been at this for what feels like forever and it’s just not working.

You can’t find him.

The wind was chilling you to the bone and it was almost dinner time. This was becoming more and more pointless as the minutes ticked by. You just wanted to find him so you both could go eat.

“Okay, well if you’re not gonna come out then I don’t wanna play anymore!” You shout, fully ready to turn tail and get out of there.

You hear a groan from the bushes and Touya emerges, his hair now white on one side and red on the other.

“You’re no fun.” He chides. “What are you gonna do when you have to find a villain?”

“I’ll find them, of course! But not on an empty stomach.” You huff, just glad that he’s stopped messing around and you can both head back now.

You are both six years old and Touya’s passion for becoming the number one hero burns brighter each passing day. You can only imagine what the coming years will be like.

Touya stood up fully, brushing the residual snow from his pants, forever unbothered by the cold. “Right… whatever you say.”

In that moment your stomach growls and Touya raises a brow.

Frustration makes itself known again as you stomp your foot in the white snow, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “We were at this for so long! I’m tired. And cold.”

“You’re always cold.” He muses, walking towards you and taking your hand.

You shrug, ducking your nose into your scarf to avoid being called Rudolph again, as Touya loves to do. Instead, you try to focus on the warmth of his hand in yours. “And you’re always warm.”

Touya hums, leading you both back to his home that was nearby. His mother promised to make Udon tonight and it was all you could think about.

“You know, you haven't said much about your new baby brother.” You start, tilting your head to get a better look at him, he always seemed more tense when going towards the home.

His tense features smooth out at the mention of his new sibling, brows softening and a smile sliding onto his face. “Oh, yeah. Well he doesn’t do much yet. He can’t talk or anything. He’s trying, but he’s kind of a potato.”

The comment makes you laugh, and you watch as fresh, new snowflakes make their way down from the sky, landing in Touya’s hair and your jacket. It’s at this moment you decide that winter is your favorite season.

The way Touya squeezes your hand brings you back to the present, the warmth making your heart dance. “But, I can't wait until he does talk. I bet he’ll be pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I think so, too.” You agree, “But you have to make sure you set a good example for him. Or else he’ll be the cool brother, you know.”

Touya scoffs, brows furrowing in irritation that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I know that! I’m always cool…”

You mutter a soft sure as your best friend’s home comes into view.

Udon was so close, you could almost taste it.

“Race you there!” Touya shouts, dropping your hand and taking off, effectively leaving you in the dust.

“Hey!” You try to catch up, but the headstart he had over you was too great, and you end up last — much to your dismay. Touya was already inside and kicking his shoes off by the time you made it in. “You cheated!”

The boy only shrugs, removing his coat and putting it away, “If you wanna be a hero you have to always be alert, that’s what dad says anyway.”

You follow suit, kicking off your shoes and jacket, and running to greet his mother. It was perfect timing, you noted, as Rei had only just begun placing piping hot bowls of Udon down at the table for all of you.

“Hi, Fuyumi!” You greet watching her emerge from further into the home. She returns with a wave, taking her place at the table.

There was no time to waste as you dig into the soup, enjoying the way it warmed your insides from the cool air outside.

“And where have you two been all day?” Rei questions, tone neutral and patient. It’s at this moment you notice the overheated head of the household was not present for dinner. It's something you cannot say that you mind, given how tense the air is when the man does come around.

“We were out playing hide and seek.” Touya supplied through a mouthful of noodles.

Rei looks skeptical, resting her chin on her hand as she watched her son. “Just playing hide and seek, Touya? No extra training?”

The boy stops, watching his mother before taking a sip of his water, “Maybe a little bit of training…”

“Touya.”

“What?” He asks, growing aggravated at the woman's pestering. You could only watch as the interaction went on, trying to enjoy your Udon as best you could.

“I told you not to push yourself today. It’s already hard enough to get your father to give you an off day, at least enjoy it by not overdoing it.”

“I wasn’t overdoing it! It’s fine, okay?” His frustration is growing and you begin to shift in your seat, unsettled by the conversation. It wasn’t the first time Rei had scolded Touya about quirk training, but it always ended the same — no progress on the topic being made.

Rei sighs, the stresses of her day to day beginning to catch up with her. “I just don’t want you to overdo it. I want you to enjoy being a child too, Touya. Just have fun sometimes.”

“But I do have fun — all the time!”

She’s tired, you can tell by the bags lining her eyes and the unkept status of her hair. Your mom looks like this too, on the days her job runs over and she has to come home late. Maybe all moms look this way, you ponder as you down the rest of your soup.

“Listen, I know you want to get stronger, but you’ve been turning up hurt more often than not. At least hold off until the doctor's appointment.”

You watch as Touyas brows scrunch and his lips turn down in a frown. You know that look very well. He's upset. “What? That’s dumb! I won’t be the best if I let a few burns stop me.”

“Touya…” Rei looks like Touya, you realize in this moment, a near carbon copy of her son the way her features mirror his own. “It’s just for a little while, okay? Not forever.”

He scoffs, done with the conversation and Rei only looks on. “Whatever.”

That’s the end of the conversation, sending dinner into a deep silence with tension crowding the air.

By the end of dinner, you are more than ready to head to bed, quick to finish your nightly duties and prepare for bed.

You try to bite back a yawn as you slide the door to the bedroom open, it is futile and you feel the tears pull at the corners of your eyes — signaling that it was time for bed.

Touya was already clad in his pajamas and currently rolling out the extra futon for you to sleep on. It was a soft white and blue and you wasted no time getting under the blankets.

“Hey, don’t go to sleep yet.” Your best friend whined, arms crossed and judging stare watching you make yourself comfortable.

You sit up, meeting his eyes with a raised brow. “‘M not. Just getting comfy.”

“Yeah, sure.” He stops, dropping his eyes to his lap, lost in thought. “Do you think she was right?”

“Hm? Who?”

Touya sucks his teeth, eye roll not directed at you, but his frustration. “My mom. When she said that I train too much.”

“Oh,” you didn’t think so. You were sure how much Touya trained with his father, but you knew it was never anything extensive when it was only you two together. There was no way that was considered too much. “No, I don't think you do.”

He smiles, and you feel like you’ve made the right call. “Good! I just want to be strong. I don’t see why she doesn’t get that. She says I'll end up hurting myself. But when I get burned it’s only a little bit.”

“Yeah, when I use my quirk too much my head will start to hurt really bad and my nose bleeds a little, but it goes away after a while.” You bring a hand to your nose, thankful there was no metallic smell lingering from the last time you used your quirk.

“The burns go away too! I knew you would understand.” He smiles, and then focuses on you, tone serious. “Hey, let's make a promise, then.”

This piques your interest. “What kind of promise?”

“That we’ll both keep trying to get strong. We can look after each other so we won't push too hard. Promise?” He holds out his fist with his pinky extended. His eyes are vivid within the dark room, the cerulean blue filled with a boyish determination that makes your mind rush and your heart flutter.

It's so quiet, the hushed whispers between you two make this feel more like a secret than a promise, and maybe in some ways it is. A secret that binds you both to each other, one that is in its own a safety net and a comfort when you need it most.

You reach back, interlocking his pinky with yours. “I promise.”

He brings it forward, pulling you towards him just a little. Touya kisses the exposed part of your pinky, and you bring his closer to do the same.

The deal was sealed. Promise made.

The sound of footsteps pulled you both from your steely gaze and towards the door. Touya's eyes widened, knowing you both were not supposed to be awake at this hour. You lock eyes and both duck down, covering yourselves with the blankets and feigning sleep.

It was just in time as the door to the room slid open, a wandering Rei glancing around the now still room. She stood there for a moment — muttering about how she could have sworn she heard voices — before turning to leave, door sliding shut and footsteps trailing back to her side of the home.

Both you and Touya tried as best you could to keep your snickers and laughs down, even going as far as slapping a hand over his mouth and yours to silence the noises. Only once there were no more sounds of footsteps did you release your hold on him, bringing an index finger to your mouth to shush him further.

“Okay,” Touya whispered into the quiet of the room, his voice carrying despite the honest effort to be silent, “we have to go to bed, for real this time.”

“Yeah.” You nod, trying your best to bite back a smile. You were sure the both of you were the only two people awake in the world right now. No one else but you, him in the pale moonlight — with the stars tagging along, sneaking into the space and lighting up the dim room, eavesdropping on your hushed laughs and promises.

“Goodnight,” he breathes, no more than a whisper.

“Goodnight, Touya.”

—--------------------

You wake with a start, body sitting straight up in bed as your chest heaved. Your eyes darted left and right but all you could see was the familiar posters along the walls of your bedroom.

Your bedroom?

“Oh, I see you’re awake.”

Your head snaps to the voice, honey sweet and always familiar. Your mother stood at your door, leaning against the dark wood of the doorframe and giving you a look that made a pit form in your stomach. You clench the cotton of your bed's comforter, the fabric anchoring you to the room.

“You’ve been out for a while.” She continues when she realizes you won’t speak. And what could you say? That you chased your dead best friend in the forest and overused your quirk to catch him? It sounds ridiculous.

So, you bring the words to your mouth and try to give her a response. Even if it’s a small, insignificant one.

“Have I?” The words feel dry and heavy on your tongue, like you haven’t spoken in days. Maybe you haven’t.

Your mother nods, taking your response as consent to come further into your room. Her steps are soft, as if any loud noise would scare you off or make you shut down. It’s hard to look away from her worried gaze, so you don’t.

You watch as she makes her way over, sitting down on your bed and the look she gives you makes your chest ache.

The somber aura in her eyes brings you no comfort.

“What were you doing out there?” She skips to the point, not wasting another minute. It’s like the question has been running through her head for a while now.

Your eyes fall to your fists clutching the bedsheets.

What could you say?

“I…” You swallow, the worst she could do was not believe you. “I saw something in the forest.”

Your mother shifts on the bed, turning to look at you head on. “What did you see?”

There was no way she wouldn’t think you were crazy, but you had to try.

“Touya. I swear I saw him.” Your eyes meet hers and you wished they hadn’t. The look of sorrow is now replaced with something much worse. Pity.

“Sweetie…”

You inhale, tears blurring your vision and you knew this would happen. “Don’t! It was him — I know it was.”

“I'm not saying it wasn’t.” She defends, bringing a hand up in surrender. “I’m just worried about you. You know what the doctors told you about your quirk.”

The quirk. You didn’t even think about that.

Too caught up in the possibility of seeing Touya again.

Your mother sighs, “You’ve been out for three days. Three. You can’t blame me for being worried about you — or upset.”

And you don’t.

Three days is a long time. You reach a hand up, taking note of the bandages wrapped around your head. You’re not even sure how you ended up back in your room.

“Just… Remember what the doctors said.” And you do remember! But it was an emergency. One that you couldn’t risk letting pass you by. She speaks again, her voice stern. “I don’t want to lose you.”

You sit there in silence, taking her words in. The heavy tears on your lower lids fall, dampening the blanket in droplets.

“It’s around that time of year again, I know. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. As a mother I wish I could protect you from this kind of hurt.” She stops, voice wavering as her own eyes grew glossy. “But it’s also why I can’t risk losing you either.”

You want to say something, anything to make her stop. It’s not the same.

“I don’t doubt that you saw something, but I want you to understand that it was late at night, and you’re still grieving.”

Your jaw is starting to ache from how hard you’re clenching your teeth — fury below the surface of your frustration.

Of course she doesn’t believe you.

Why would you be foolish enough to think she would?

She sighs, the lecture coming to an end. “Don’t destroy yourself for this, okay?” Your mother reaches out and covers your exposed hand with her own. It takes everything in you not to snatch it away.

“Promise me, please.”

You meet her eyes, the sorrow swimming in them makes you feel like you’re drowning, so you do the only thing you can think of — you nod, and agree.

“I promise.”

And you do. It won’t destroy you to find out the truth. You’ll be okay and intact. No promises will be broken, not again.

You go out to the forest that night. Even though your head is still wrapped in bandages and you get dizzy if you turn your head a little too fast — you still go. You have to.

It’s eating you up and you have to be sure you weren't hallucinating.

Your mother has been keeping a close eye on you. She’s so worried, not only about your physical health but your mental health as well. And you don’t blame her. To have her only daughter fall out in the forest and wake up claiming to see her dead best friend? It’s worrisome, but you know better.

You wave the flashlight in your hand, backtracking your steps in the forest.

It's fruitless, due to the fresh fallen snow and lack of footprints. But that doesn’t deter you. You know he was here, he had to be.

After what felt like an hour of a search, you decide to turn back, knowing there would be no point as the snowfall increased. It would eventually make things harder to see and you would rather not get stuck in a snowstorm.

Fuyumi won’t say it out loud but she is worried about you.

She’s worried you have finally gone off the deep end and you are too far gone to be brought back to shore.

“Fuyumi, I know what I saw. It was him — I swear!” You pleaded, knowing how you must sound.

She knows how much you love Touya, and how devastated you were, but what she doesn’t understand is what you mean when you say you saw him.

Her eyes were filled with sadness and …pity. The same pity that’s been haunting you for days now. “I believe you saw something. I don’t want to shut you down, it’s just… I know how your quirk is. I know what happens if you overuse it. It could have been in your mind right before you went out.”

You scoff in shock, eyes wide and disbelieving of what you’re hearing. Of all people you thought Fuyumi would understand, or at least hear you out.

She doesn't understand. She wouldn’t understand.

You shake your head, eyes downcast as you fight the familiar burn of tears in your eyes, muttering under your breath, “I know what I saw.”

Those were his eyes. It was his nose and his hair. It was Touya.

This doesn’t stop her from trying to comfort you, bringing that familiar hand to your shoulder and giving it a squeeze. What would usually feel like a comfort is now a vice, suffocating you as you drown is the reality around you.

No one will believe a word you say.

“Maybe,” she starts, words careful and gentle, knowing you were as fragile as glass, ready to shatter at any sudden movement. “Maybe Touya is watching over you in some way. Like a guardian angel.”

The warm tears fall now, unable to be held back by your crumbling will.

“I know how hard it is, really, I do. But I want you to know that you’re not alone, okay?” You can feel Fuyumi’s gaze on you, silently pleading for you to look up, look at her, but you won't. You can’t. You know what you saw and it doesn’t matter if anyone believes you.

You would never stop looking for Touya.

Fuyumi lets you go and it feels like you can breathe again. She has become such a good friend over the years, second best to Touya, but it’s not the same.

You go to stand, having had enough of crying for one week and she stops you.

“Wait, I don’t want you to go! At least stay for dinner with us. Does your mom work late tonight?”

You nod, she usually does on Fridays.

“Then it’s settled. Stay over, let's watch movies or something.” She falters, eyes to the floor as she bites her bottom lip, “I don’t want to be alone, either.”

Something in your heart tugs and you agree, moving to join her once more in the living room.

Fuyumi may not understand, but she was still your close friend. “Okay, but I get to choose the movie, though.”

And she smiles.

For now, you would be okay.

—----------------------

“It’s so stupid!”

There’s a flash of fire and a tree goes up in flames. Touya is upset.

“It’s just not fair.”

“I know…” You drag, hating when he got this way. “But it’s what they told me.”

“That means we can’t be heroes together anymore!”

The wave of sadness you feel makes your head hurt and eyes water. “I know… I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, they told me I had to stop training, too. Dad said he wouldn’t do it anymore because I hurt myself. You know what I say to that? Who cares! We can be strong if we want to. It's not fair.”

You know it’s not fair.

You are seven years old when the doctors tell you that you cannot continue to use your quirk.

Telekinesis is not only rare, but it is dangerous. Not just to you, but to others around you. The doctors were very clear about what would happen if you lost control or if you overexerted yourself.

The consequences could be devastating.

But quirks are such an important part of one’s life and for them to tell you to just not use them? It’s unheard of.

It also doesn’t help that Touya has another sibling on the way. One that his father is eerily excited about.

“Do you remember our promise?” He asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

You nod, knowing the promise is something you could never forget.

“Well, I think it's more important than ever now. If they dont want us to do it, then we just shouldn’t tell them.” There is a determined purpose in his voice as he turns to face you, committed eyes meeting yours.

“I don’t know, Touya. That sounds like lying.”

“It’s not if you don’t say anything.” He insists, tone even.

Your gaze falls to the ground, watching as the wind blows the leaves along the snow. It’s like their own secret dance. Your promise is beginning to feel more like a secret dance as well.

“Look,” Touya starts, walking towards you and capturing your attention once more, “I swear, if anything happens, I’ll just say I did it.”

You shake your head, brows furrowed in confusion and fists clenched, “No! Then you would get in trouble, and what if we can’t hang out anymore? We can be in this together, Touya.”

He smiles, soft and sweet. Your dedication relaxes him more than he thought it would.

His warm hands are on your face again, warming your cheeks and the butterflies that have been living in your stomach go wild again. You absently wonder if you should tell your mother about it.

“Your nose is all red again, Rudolph.” He says before bringing you closer and brushing his nose against yours.

You were sure if your face got any warmer you would probably explode.

Touya carries on, walking away from you and further into the forest. You trail behind, even though you knew this part of it well, you still didn’t want to run the risk of getting lost.

“Where are we going?” Your voice carries in this part of the woods, and it sounds more like a shout.

“I found this cool spot the other day! Let me show you.”

Confident as always, Touya trails through and you speed up to chase him.

Now you're sure your face is red, but he doesn't mention it again.

“It’s down here.” Touya points and there’s a drop to get to the area.

It only takes a jump and he lands on his feet — he makes it look so easy, but you know he’s probably gotten a lot of practice and put himself in positions more dangerous than this.

There’s that doubt in the forefront of your mind again, the fear that makes you hesitate. “I don’t like heights, Touya.”

“It’s okay! C’mon, I’ll catch you. It’s just a little further.” He’s reassuring as he holds out his arms.

Always fearless Touya.

You trust him, and it’s all you can think as you close your eyes and give yourself a little running start and then jump.

There’s a ringing in your ears again and you don’t feel his arms right away, instead you feel light. As light as a feather as you drift down to the ground.

The lack of impact makes the fear ebb away as you open your eyes. There’s Touya, arms out and waiting as he watches you with widened eyes filled with wonder.

You’ve somehow activated your quirk and slowed your own fall. You absently think that it almost feels kind of fun, the way you softly land in Touya’s waiting arms.

“Whoa,” he starts, eyes never leaving yours. “You looked like an angel or something.”

You don’t know why, but the comparison makes your cheeks flush as you fight for a way to respond.

Nothing comes to mind and you only bite down a smile. You’ve never tried something like that before with your quirk and the excitement makes your fear fade away.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Me either,” you shrug. It’s new to you too, and you weren’t against trying it again.

“Well, c'mon, let’s go before it gets dark.” And he’s taking off, pulling you along with him by the hand. The wind is chilly but it doesn’t completely cool you. Touya keeps you warm, from the outside by his hand and from the inside with his words. Maybe there was more to his fire quirk than you thought.

“Don’t run so fast, Touya!”

He laughs, but slows down for you, looking back and flashing a smile, “Whatever you say, angel.”

—-------------

It’s the end of March and spring is on the way.

The snow melting, the rain clouds are rolling their way in, readying to greet April and bring life to the incoming May flowers, and your mother—

“We need them by tonight!” She yells through the phone and it’s enough to make you hold the device far away from your ear.

“I heard you the first time, mom.” You sigh, looking around again for the small shop and making your way towards it. “I’ll have all the stuff by then. The party will be fine, I promise.”

Tonight is your father’s big homecoming day from overseas. He’s been working away from home for eight months now and your mother has decided to throw him a welcome home party at the last minute. He will be here by tonight and so will the guests — if you finish in time everything will go according to plan.

“I just want everything to be perfect.” Her voice presses and you hum in response. You know how she wants things to be, but your father isn’t picky. He’s the most easy going man you know and if there’s a hiccup here and there, well, you’re sure he won't mind.

“Okay, mom.” You start, grabbing your items and making your way to the checkout line. “I’m about to check out now, so I’ll let you know when I'm on the way home.”

She sighs on the other end, but lets you go, not before fully explaining why she needs the banners and streamers in a certain color and you cut her off, hanging up and checking out.

It's been a few months since the incident in the forest and you’ve given up trying to make anyone see your point of view. They all thought you were hallucinating, but you knew better. You saw Touya. There was nothing they could say or do to make you think otherwise.

You heave a sigh and continue your walk through the town thinking of the countless decorations you will undoubtedly have to help your mother hang for the night. It gives you something to do, but god, last minute events were not your favorite.

There aren’t as many people out and about this time of day and you're thankful. It’s almost peaceful, the way you can weave through the sparse crowd and get lost in your own thoughts.

Until you see it.

It makes you stop in your tracks, heart beating so loud in your chest you could feel it pulsing in your ears.

White hair and blue eyes.

You take a few hurried steps to the alley you know you saw the figure go into.

He was wearing an oversized black hoodie with the hood pulled up, but you knew the moment he turned and his eyes met yours. Touya.

Without a second thought you dropped the bags you were holding and ran after him. He was halfway through the window of an abandoned building when you made down the alley, but was swift as he jumped through it. There was no doubt Touya was fast, but you wouldn’t let him get away. Not this time.

You follow him, jumping through the same window and chasing as he maneuvers through the dusty dilapidated building. It’s hard to catch your breath and you are sure you’re running on pure adrenaline now, but none of that matters.

All that matters now is that you aren’t crazy. It was broad daylight when you locked eyes. You know Touya is alive.

“Touya, wait!” You barely register the tears running down your face as you run, but you dont care to wipe them away. Why would he run from you? Why would he hide from you? There are so many questions that you need answered. “Stop!”

He takes a left turn and you follow, before seeing him dip right and it’s getting harder and harder to keep up. After the last incident you refuse to use your quirk. Not unless you wanted to ruin your chances and pass out again.

At one point you lose him completely, but there is no outlet in the dusty room you’ve cornered him in. He has to be hiding somewhere.

“Touya, please! If that’s you,” you yell out, voice hoarse from emotion, “please, come back. Talk to me.” You’re looking around the dark room, walking further in and searching for something, anything that shows his presence.

You make the mistake of having your back to the door, the only exit in the room and Touya darts out, passing you and making it back into the main part of the building.

You curse before hurrying behind him, but it was too late. All you could see was him hopping the window and landing on his feet below. It was too high for you to follow so you only grip the window pane, tears of frustration running down your cheeks as you watched him run.

“What about our promise?” You yell, wondering if your words could reach him.

There’s a sick feeling forming in your gut and you try to pull yourself together — wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt and the sobs shook your body. You had a party to prepare for and you couldn’t keep playing this game of back and forth.

Your mother gives you an earful when you arrive home much later than you were supposed to, but she was so focused on getting your father’s welcome home party together that she let you off the hook easily.

As long as you helped her hang the decorations.

There is a tense air around the both of you and you know your mother is hesitating asking. You aren't sure if it’s to save you the trouble of a pointless conversation or if she is just tired of hearing about it.

You decide not to tell her of your latest meeting. Brushing off any odd stares and worried glances with excuses of being tired. It was not wise to tell anyone what you saw. They would only think of you as the girl who cried wolf.

When your father made it home you knew he could tell something was off with you by just one look alone.

He participated in the socializing and games until the crowd died down and people began to leave. You had called it a night long ago and made your way to your room, headphones on and catching up on homework.

There was a knock loud enough to hear through the headphones, making you remove one and causing you to turn and see your father standing at the door.

“Yes?” You ask, unsure what he could want at this hour.

He gives you a small smile, one as gentle and kind as you've always known him to be, and asks to come in — taking a seat on your bed while you close the book at your desk.

“I wanted to talk.” He started, watching as you removed the headphones from your head completely and gave him your undivided attention, sure that this would be about what’s been going on lately.

“Have you started looking for colleges?”

The question surprises you, and you shake your head. You should start looking soon, since you turn seventeen soon and only have one year left, but it hasn’t been your main priority. “No, I haven’t.”

He only smiles, eyes crinkling shut as he waves off your worried expression, “It’s fine! I actually had an alternative for you. It’s something I've been looking into during the business trip.”

Your interest is officially piqued as you urge him to continue.

“Well, I’m sure you know this, but you have a pretty rare quirk.” He starts, tone leveled, “I’ve been working on research studies and there’s somewhere I found that would love to have you intern and learn more about it.”

You tilt your head. “You want me to be a guinea pig?”

“No!” Your father laughs, already knowing how it would sound. “No, not that at all. I want to understand your quirk better, and for you to understand it better. I think it would be good for you. A chance to grow.”

To grow. You narrow your eyes at the words, starting to understand what he was getting at. “So you’ve heard.”

“I did. And before you get upset — I believe you. I will always believe you, and that's why I want you to do this." His words make your eyes widen and he continues. “It’s in a small town a little further away, but the internship comes with your own apartment and a stipend for food. Your mother and I will still support you, of course...”

You hold a hand up to stop him, “wait, how far away is the town?”

Your father rubs the back of his neck, an anxious habit he’s had as long as you could remember. “About four hours from here.”

“Four hours?” Your voice is louder than you meant for it to be but you can't help it, standing to your feet in disbelief.

“It’s such a good opportunity for you, honey. This town… has too many memories. It’ll help you grow. At least tell me you’ll consider it?”

It feels like hours before you speak again, the stunned feeling hijacking your body. But you do respond, you owe him that much.

“Alright, I’ll think about it.” You give, taking your seat at your desk again. It feels like your mind is swimming, but you had to at least mull it over.

“Thank you,” your father stands and hugs you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before exiting your room. “I promise it won't be so bad. Goodnight, honey, I love you.”

You only nod in response. Maybe getting away would be good for you.

The first day you find a gift it is raining outside.

You stumble up to your front doorstep, closing your umbrella and shaking off the excess water.

“What the…” You reach down to pick up the little box, and turn it over to examine it. Maybe your mother got something delivered.

The thought follows you into the home as you pull off your raincoat and rainboots, making your way to the kitchen where your mother had started on dinner.

“Oh, welcome home.” She greets, stirring the pot of soup and eyeing the box in your hand. “What do you have there?”

Your brows furrow as you take a seat at the table. “I thought you would know. It’s not for you?”

“Nope.”

The response only makes your brows furrow more as you search for maybe a name or any indication that it was delivered to the wrong place.

“You should open it.” Your mother pipes up and you shrug, ripping the paper and opening the box.

You drop the box the moment you see the item.

There was no way.

“What? What's the matter?” Your mother questions, her eyes filled with worry as she reaches for the box.

You snatch it away from her and dart off to your room, supplying her with an excuse about how you don’t feel well before locking yourself in your bedroom.

The box held a golden locket inside of it. It was in the shape of a heart and you were terrified to open it and see what lay inside of it. You decide that the suspense would be too much and open it anyway — the photo makes your breath hitch.

It was you and Touya.

You, with your bright eyes and happy smile and Touya, half white and half red hair looking at you as you hug him, cheeks pressed together.

There was no denying it now. Touya was alive and he was hiding from you.

Maybe he’s watching over you — like a guardian angel. Fuyumi’s voice rang in your head as you fought the tears blurring your vision.

Why would he send you this and not talk to you?

All of it made your head spin as you thought of the countless reasons and possibilities. You didn't bother to wipe the tears from your eyes as they rolled down your cheeks. Only opting to lay down in your bed, holding the locket close to your chest as you stared at the ceiling above.

It made no sense. Touya could trust you, so why would he hide from you?

Unless he didn’t want to be found.

The next gifts come in different forms and sizes, ranging from your favorite snack to cute cards.

Always something small but never with a note or handwriting. It was almost like he truly didn’t want to be found.

And maybe he didn’t.

It’s scary at first, receiving random gifts and items from someone who might as well be a ghost, but as the months went on you grew used to it and even began to expect it at some point.

Now you knew you could rest easy knowing that Touya was alive and maybe, just maybe he was waiting on the right moment to come out. You would trust him.

It also doesn’t take long for you to come to a decision with your fathers offer.

It’s an amazing opportunity and you should take advantage of that while you can. You tell him as much and you could feel his excitement through the phone call. He was away on business again, but he would handle most of the heavy lifting, all you had to do was apply and wait on your offer once you graduate.

There was just one thing you had to do before you left.

—--------------------

You are eighteen years old when you leave Musutafu.

By this time you couldn’t take it anymore. Either Touya had gotten better at hiding or he knew you would be leaving soon, but there was nothing else from him — and there hadn’t been for months. At this point it felt like glimpses of the past haunting you. Every part of the city reminded you of him and of your childhood together.

Fuyumi was upset to see you go, but she understood.

You still believed, deep down, she thought you were losing your mind.

You needed this though – needed a getaway. The ghost of Touya was holding you down, holding you back.

Even though the gifts stopped coming months ago.

She is kind as she hugs you and waves you off, knowing that one main reason for your company in her home was to visit Touya’s shrine. She does not stop you, does not ask questions — not after the time she mentioned how you didn’t bring him up as often.

There was no need to. You only told her that you’ve moved past that and you knew Touya was watching over you, a small smile on your face as you touched the locket dangling from your neck. Fuyumi didn’t bring the topic up again.

Today is the day you leave. You had waited and waited for any sign of Touya again, but there was nothing. So you took matters into your own hands, making a little bag of gifts and a card that held the new updates to your life and address.

It was a long shot, but it was a chance you had to take.

Once you finished, it didn't take long to make your way back home, gathering your things as your parents insisted on driving you to the train stop. With your mother buzzing around you like a bee, making sure everything was perfect before you went off on your own.

The idea of new beginnings had begun to feel a little more welcomed.

Your new apartment is small.

It is small and cozy and just enough for you. It’s a comfortable one bedroom place and you can only imagine all the ways you will decorate the space.

The town is also cozy and quaint – one that is reminiscent of old fairy tales, but a lot less magical. You can't help but sigh at the mundane routine you’ve fallen into since you’ve arrived. A nice walk from your apartment to the research lab, and from the research lab to your home. Since it’s summer there aren't many researchers on campus, so you have more than enough time to explore the parks and stores.

One week turns into two and then two weeks turn into a month. You’ve gotten used to the small town and the people that live there. It's become relaxing and the new routine has eased your nerves. Maybe your father was right about needing a change.

But no matter what you do, you cannot stop thinking about Touya.

The thought of leaving him is heavy, but when you touch your locket, you know it is for the best.

Everything changes on a Thursday night.

It’s a normal night, one where there is no need to go to the lab, so you hang around in the apartment — setting up cozy lights and posters from home. It’s beginning to come together more and more everyday, and you decided to end it all with a simple and easy meal. One that you could mindlessly eat while watching a movie.

It's a foolproof plan, really.

You’re stirring the pot of noodles, humming a tune when you hear the knocks at your door. It is dark outside, and you haven’t made enough friends to warrant visitors, so the idea of a guest at this hour sends alarms ringing in your mind.

You grip the wooden spoon tight as you take cautious steps to your door, knowing that if it came down to it you would be more than ready to whack whoever trespassed.

“Who is it?” You call out, loud enough for the intruder to hear, but get no response.

At this point you are sure it was just your imagination and you turn, ready to get back to your noodles, when the knocks sound throughout the apartment again.

Frustrating is the only thought on your mind as you stomp towards your front door, ready to give whoever was on the other side of it a piece of your mind for interrupting your peaceful night with this bullshit—

The door swings open and your words die on your tongue.

Cerulean blue looks down at you and you were right — he has gotten taller.

“Hey, angel.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes. You wouldn’t believe your eyes because if you did you would see Touya, your childhood best friend Touya on your doorstep. Real and in the flesh, hair white as snow and eyes worn with fatigue.

“Can I come in?” He asks and you are shellshocked, only stepping to the side as your eyes follow his every move.

This was a moment you thought of for years after your first encounter in the forest, and for him to be here, with you. It didn’t feel real.

“Touya,” you gasp, voice low as if being any louder would wake you from this dream you must be having.

“I know.” His eyes are downcast with a sorrow you’ve never seen in him before, “I.. have a lot I want to tell you.”

It’s at that moment that the timer for your ramen goes off, startling you both and sending you rushing to the kitchen. You offer him a seat and insist that you’ve made enough for the both of you.

There was so much you needed to discuss, so much to catch up on. You didn’t know where to start.

The little table you use to eat on is small, but perfect for the two of you, you realize as you set both bowls down and hand him a set of metal chopsticks.

Your heart was in overdrive as you ran through thousands of things to ask, millions of unspoken words to say. You’ve imagined this moment in your head for years. Time and time again you’ve thought of what you would say to him, what you would do if you ever saw him again.

Now the opportunity has presented itself and all you can manage is a wide eyed look as you both quietly eat your ramen.

Surreal.

This moment feels surreal and you’re sure that if you make any sudden movements or ask any loud questions, that it would be gone. Touya would be gone, disappearing in an instant and leaving you alone in your apartment.

He speaks first, saving you the trouble of searching for words. “The food was good.”

His voice sounds scratchy, like it hasn’t been used in years and you can't help but wonder why.

“Thank you.” It’s all you can manage to get out, stunned to your core and desperately searching for words.

You go to stand, taking the empty bowls with you to the kitchen and Touya follows suit, trailing behind in the small space of the apartment and you are hyper aware of his presence.

You can feel the warmth of his body even when he is steps away from you. It radiates and blankets you in feelings you haven’t felt in years.

As you place the bowls in the sink you can’t help but wonder where should you go from here. It’s a thought that plagues you as you grip the edge of the sink, fists tight and head hung low while you brace yourself to turn around, to face the reality of the truth standing right behind you—

You do it. You turn and it’s not a dream. It’s not your imagination, you conclude as you look into Touya's eyes, blue and familiar. Eyes you would know anywhere.

His hair is snow white, the last color you saw it as before he—

“You kept it.” His eyes drop to the golden locket around your neck, a small smile pulling at his features.

“Of course I did.” You’re firm, bringing two fingers up to brush against it, the cool feeling bringing you comfort over the last few years.

His gaze seems far away as he zeros in on your locket, “I was worried you wouldn’t, after the last time we—“

“Don’t.” You cut him off, words sharp. “Don’t talk about it. Not tonight.”

You don’t know what you’re doing or where your mind is going as you take a step forward. He’s so different, yet so familiar and you can’t help but reach your hand up to brush over the newly faded scars along his cheek.

Touya leans into the touch, closing his eyes and allowing you to feel.

When he opens them again you get that feeling in your chest that always pulls at you and for the first time, you can finally place a word to the feeling.

“I’m sorry,” you stammer, vision blurring with tears as you fight for your words, “I’m sorry I didn’t—“

Touya stops you, crashing his lips into yours and effectively silencing your racing thoughts. It’s warm and he’s so close, you wish you could pull him closer but you settle for this, allowing the tears to freely roll down your cheeks.

When he pulls away there is only the smallest distance between you two. Noses so close they are almost touching.

“I don’t care about any of that,” his eyes are so focused on yours, it feels like he’s put you in a trance. “I’m the one who should be apologizing, anyway.”

Before you could even shake your head, tell him no it’s the other way around, he’s pulling you back into a kiss, one so soft and so gentle you feel as though his lips were made for yours.

It presses on, your hands finding his hair, soft and fluffy as you’ve always known it, while his hands hold your waist, pulling you in and keeping you close.

This is not your first kiss, and it’s not Touya's either. You both decided at around eleven years old that you would try to emulate your parents and see what the fuss was about. Surely enough, you didn’t think you did it right because there was nothing. No sparks, no fireworks — just lips pressed together.

You were both too young at the time, you now realize as you wrap your arms around Touya's neck, tilting your head and deepening the kiss. Way too young to realize that love is not fairytales and fireworks.

Love is slow, it is steady and it is this — right here, right now, kissing your best friend in your tiny apartment kitchen.

It’s perfect, you think as you both make your way to the bedroom, Touya trailing behind you for once as you lead him through the space. Hushed laughs and soft smiles dance together as you fall onto the bed.

He is above you, and you wonder how you could have ever lived without his presence. The thought makes you sick.

“I love you.” And it’s not your lips that moved, not your voice. It’s Touya, as he looks down at you, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy. “I never stopped loving you.”

“Touya…” Your heart swells and it’s then you feel it. The droplets of tears, falling from his eyes and onto your cheeks. They were as warm as he had always been and you waste no time pulling him down into another kiss — pulling away only enough to press your foreheads together. “I’ve always loved you.”

And you have. Even in death you loved him, nothing could take that love away from you.

The next kiss is hungry, teeth and tongues clashing in a rush as you both fought to remove your clothes. You have regretted all the things that went unsaid, the actions that went undone and you were both not going to waste any of this new time you had been given.

You feel one of Touya's fingers prod your entrance and the hesitation reminds you that you’re both inexperienced. New to the world of sex, but forever patient. You could guide each other, you decide as you gasp when he slowly slips a finger inside, slick coating the digit and making the press easier.

Touya watches you with heavy lidded eyes as he pumps the digit, causing you to whine at the pressure. He pulls out soon after, searching for your sensitive bundle of nerves and giving a sly smirk when you moan at the touch. He’s found it and wastes no time rubbing circles, slow at first to get a feel of what makes you tick, but gaining more confidence as he goes on.

There was a pressure beginning to build in your lower abdomen and it made you pull him close, thighs tensing as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Close?” His voice is a whisper beside your ear.

You only nod, unable to give him a verbal answer as your pleasure builds.

You can feel his smile as he turns his head, cheeks brushing against yours. “Let go for me, I’ve got you.”

And you do.

You let go of the tension and allow your body to fall into the pleasure of your climax— gasping as it washed over you in waves, sending shocks of pleasure radiating through your body.

“Fuck,” Touya moans above you as he works you through it, only moving to line up with your entrance once you’ve come down from your high.

The press of it makes your breath hitch, but when you look up into Touya’s eyes you feel safe.

“Tell me if you want to stop, okay?” And you nod, trusting him to be soft and slow.

He’s nervous, too, and you can tell by the way his brows furrowed in focus. He doesn’t want to mess up your first time, but nothing could ruin this moment. Not even the twinge of pain you feel as the head of Touya’s cock pushes past your entrance, the tight muscles constricting against the intrusion.

You reach out, hands finding balance against his back as he pressed on, muttering words of comfort to you and ebbing away the pain.

It doesn’t take long before the pain has been washed away and replaced with the blossoming buzz of pleasure, Touya's hips having a steady pace as he begins to gain more momentum.

The pleasure is quickly building again and you tell him as much, crying out when he snaps his hips at a particular angle and sends a flash of bliss up your spine.

“Fuck, Touya, there! Right there,” you cry and he catches on instantly. He’s always been a fast learner.

The angle he has is perfect as he brushes against the soft spot inside you over and over again, making your thighs shake and toes curl in pleasure as you meet your end once again. The feeling settles deep in your bones as the warmth of it spreads throughout your body like a warm blanket.

Touya isn’t far behind, if his erratic pace was anything to go by. You could only watch in awe as he chased his high, with his brows furrowed and eyes tightly shut. You fall more in love as you feel his hips stutter and then stall, his white hot seed filling you from the inside and making you shudder.

It was a new feeling that you believed you could get addicted to if you weren’t careful.

But none of that mattered right now, because Touya was leaning down, pressing a kiss to your lips and you knew that right here, right now was the most important.

Everything else would have to wait until tomorrow.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #touya x reader #dabi smut #mha x reader #my works #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi x you #touya todoroki x you

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4ln-stay8 · 4 months

Text

Below zero

>summary: Lando takes you outside to dance with you in the snow

>author’s note: its been a while since the last fic…

>warning: fluff

The crisp winter air filled the quaint town as you and Lando strolled through the snow-covered streets, the glow of Christmas lights illuminating the surroundings. You were visiting Lando's family for Christmas, and the town had transformed into a winter wonderland.

As you entered the cozy living room of Lando's childhood home, the warmth of family enveloped you. Laughter and the aroma of holiday treats hung in the air. Lando's family welcomed you with open arms, and soon, the room buzzed with cheerful conversations.

“Lando, love, it’s so good to see you, I missed you so much! And Y/n, it’s so good to see you again. Come in, come in!” Said Lando’s mom as you walked into the living room

“Hi mom! I missed you too!” Said Lando giving Cisca a big hug

You said hello to everyone and hugged each of them as you didn’t saw them in a while. Lando’s family loved you from the very first moment they saw you. They could read in your eyes how much you loved their son and brother. They saw how happy you made him and how much you cared for each other.

It was the week before Christmas, the town was blanketed in fresh snow, and you just couldn't contain your excitement. "Lando, look at how beautiful it is outside! Can we go for a walk later?" you asked, your eyes sparkling with joy.

Lando grinned, captivated by your enthusiasm. "Absolutely, love. We can sneak out for a bit."

As the evening progressed, the snowfall intensified, creating a magical scene outside. Lando, feeling the pull of your infectious excitement, excused himself from the family gathering, taking your hand as you ventured into the snowy night.

You couldn’t contain your excitement, “Lando, this is so magical! I’ve always dreamt of a snowy Christmas.” you said admiring the snow

Lando chuckled, “I knew you’d love it. Come on, there’s something I want to show you.” He gently pulled you towards middle of the backyard

Your eyes widened as he fiddled with his phone, “What are you up to, Lando?”

He smirked, “Just wait.” Lando said his eyes fixed on his phone, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "I've got something special for you," he teased, fingers dancing across the screen.

A soft melody started playing, and your eyes widened with delight. "Is this our song?" you asked, recognizing the tune that held a special place in your hearts.

Lando nodded, his eyes locked onto yours “Care for a dance, my love?” he said gaining a nod from you

Your heart skipped a beat as you swayed to the music, your laughter mingling with the soft falling snowflakes. The world around you disappeared, leaving only the two of you in your own winter wonderland.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” you asked giggling

Lando winked, “Maybe a little. I know how much you wanted to dance in the snow” You swayed gracefully to the music, the snowflakes dancing around you.

“You’re so romantic!” you said giving him a soft kiss

“Only for you my love” he whispers kissing you again then he twirls you

You laughed, “Your family is probably wondering where we disappeared to.”

Lando twirled you again “Let them wonder. This moment is ours.”

As you danced, you looked up at the falling snow, “It’s like a winter wonderland.”

Lando smiled, “Just for you.” He pulled you closer, “You know, you’re the best thing that happened to me this year.”

You blushed, “I could say the same thing about you, Norris.”

You continued to dance, the snowflakes creating a magical atmosphere around you. Lando gazed into your eyes, “I’m glad I get to share moments like these with you.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, “Me too, Lando. Me too.”

You danced until the song faded away, leaving you wrapped in each other’s warmth.

"Thank you for making this Christmas unforgettable," you whispered, your eyes reflecting the love that filled your heart.

Lando smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "No, thank you for being the best part of my holidays."

“I love you so much Lando!” you whispered looking into his eyes, love and adoration written all over them

“I love you so much as well my love” he whispered back to you, kissing you lovingly

As the cold started to get to you, hand in hand, you made your way back to the warmth of his family's home, the echoes of your laughter lingering in the snowy night, making it one of the best nights of your life and the memory one of your forever favourites,

#lando norris #ln4 #lando norris one shot #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando norris x female reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #mclaren formula 1 #formula 1 #formula one

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gothicminxx · 4 months

Text

Satosugu x afab! Reader

Word count: 5.2K

CW: Angst with comfort, mentions of blood, major character death, polyamory, mentions of established relationship with Gojo, pet names (angel, pretty girl, my girl, sweet girl, etc.), instead of Y/N Name will be used instead, all around sad af

Part 2 here

Summary: Has a connection to the movie JJK 0, similar but not quite.

I think of Satosugu and I sob.

Hope you enjoy!

Twilight arrived over the horizon, painting the sky of soft purples mixed with pink and blue. Mountain tops capped off with sheets of white that sparkled underneath the setting sun. Silence loomed overhead with the subtle sounds of a breeze, the air crisp with a harsh bite. The grass is glacial from the previous snowfall a few hours ago.

But the world was covered in darkness as the giant hand that pertained to Satoru lay flatly over your eyes, sitting in between his legs on a rock. A habit that he had formed in recent years to mollify the bitter head of anxiety that crippled your body. When the thoughts began to race and the hammering of your heart refused to disperse from your side, Satoru placed his hand over your eyes. The rasp of his voice tickled your ear as he requested you focus, following his deep breaths, and hushed praises for succeeding. When the dark silence consumed the crevices of your brain it pacified the cavernous void that Suguru left behind. The reason for every apprehensive thought that consumed the confinements of your brain. A gaping hole resided in the depths of your pumping heart, one he had overfilled before-- a spilling pool of red wine: warm, gentle, and welcoming, the essence of pertaining to two lovers.

Satoru shared the absence of light with you simply by covering your eyes. He wore blindfolds to protect his six eyes, to keep the core of his energy balanced so as to not fatigue himself, he experienced the bliss of darkness daily listening to the calmness of his breath, the steadiness of his heart, and the sounds of his surroundings. It was peaceful when things seemed to spiral out of control, tensions at an all time high giving Satoru that moment to ease his mind. It was the only thing he could think to do to alleviate the strain of life that gnawed at you constantly like a tender cut of meat.

The coolness of this year's harsh winter stung your cheeks, penetrating at the surface to numb your whole face. You placed your hands on top of Satoru’s, holding it in place to increase the darkness, focusing on the environment you found yourself in. Snow that the wind carried tickled your skin, dampening it slightly as the flakes melted. The comfort of your puffy jacket and beanie kept you toasty to endure the frozen conditions, but in this very moment the cold brought you solace as you embraced the blackness. You could feel the warmth of Satoru’s chest radiate into your back like a warm blanket, the breeze that blew on the side of your face howled softly, swooshing of powdered snowflakes followed. The plateau you and Satoru sat in was desolate of noise, it calmed the erratic beat of your heart and soothed the harrowing thoughts in your mind.

Since Suguru’s impetuous departure from the both of you things had been difficult, words left unsaid with various questions that had gone unanswered. An empty spot on the bed that used to belong to him had now turned cold and desperately clung onto his scent, you and Satoru had found yourselves leaving that space open, as if he’d ever walk through the front door again and reclaim the life he once had. His hoodies still hung up in the closet, his toothbrush still had a spot in the holder, boxes of his favorite tea littered the cabinet-- you preferred coffee, and Satoru liked soda. Suguru’s things were left untouched in your home, things he left behind, and things you and Satoru held onto tightly; protecting the last bit of residue on those items.

Satoru snaked his free arm around, pressing his palm flatly against your abdomen, fingertips caressing the polyester fabric of the puffer jacket that adorned your frame. He gently removed his hand from your eyes as he felt you relax in his hold, leaning forward to rest his chin against your shoulder. The world had come back into your view, the sky had become a darker shade of blue accompanied by a few stars that twinkled. The sun had fully hid behind the snowy mountain range taking away the last bit of warmth it had offered in the winter months. Satoru had insisted on taking you far from the city today despite the ice on the roads, the sunken bags underneath your eyes had prompted worry that he could not ignore. You were the only thing keeping him sane since Suguru had left, Satoru had grown petrified of losing you too. He could sense the ugly cloud of melancholy looming over your head, the way you slouched at the kitchen table-- barely touching the food on your plate, a frown etched on your lips, and tears left to dry on your cheeks. The way you stared at Suguru’s spot in bed wearing one of his hoodies, the yearning and agony you felt all too evident to him that he had to get you away from home for a few hours.

He had always been better at tucking away his emotions so as to not worry you. But Satoru felt the same agony, the cavernous hole in his heart that felt as though a knife had stabbed through and ripped a chunk out. The bile that burned the back of his throat and left a bitter taste that it didn’t matter how many times he brushed his teeth; it remained. That each time he smelled Jasmine or cedar wood he immediately burst into tears, teeth piercing his bottom lip as he tried to mollify the dreary emotions that raked his body. Oftentimes he found himself wearing Suguru’s clothes, wrapping his arms around his own body and pretending as though it was Suguru comforting him. Satoru grieved the relationship that once was, in silence, wanting to be strong for you, the most precious thing in his life. You needed Satoru more than anything in moments where you barely found the strength to get out of bed. When anxiety consumed you like the last meal on earth, he had to be strong for you.

Placing a kiss to your cold cheek Satoru hummed, “You calm now, angel?” He held you tighter in his embrace, shutting his eyes to engrave every curve of your body, the warmth you provided as you sat in between his legs, and your scent. The trepidation he felt of losing you too was one that made him lose his appetite.

Leaning your head back on his shoulder, your eyes followed the depth of the night sky, each star glimmering like a diamond. With the darkness the cold in the plateau stung your face, your nose runny and icy to the touch, but you could only focus on Satoru’s arms, “Yes, shutting out the world always seems to help,” A small smile reached your lips, “Thank you.”

Intertwining your gloved hands together he brought the back to his lips placing a kiss there making your heart flutter. Since Suguru deserted his lovers, through the agony and stabbing wound in one's heart, you still had Satoru. The six eyes refused to leave your side even for a moment, clinging onto you as a sort of life support.

The anguish was evident in his cerulean eyes, deep purple bags had found their home under his eyes, hidden under a blindfold so as to not worry his students— to worry you. Even if a part of his heart clung onto the memory of Suguru, the rest was yours. Glowing sun of warmth that caressed his cheek, holding him tightly to always feel the ardor of your heart. Lulling the anxiety he felt with lingering kisses, fingers tangled in snowy white tuffs, and the sound of your sweet voice covered in honey— speaking saccharine words.

Even if he tried to hide from you, keeping his emotions tucked away in a metal safe— you knew, of course you saw right through him. Having the privilege of meeting Satoru Gojo years ago meant understanding every single emotion he felt. A strong intuition to sense when something was off, he never truly spoke about it, only on the rare occasion of dawn drawing near, his eyes half lidded, and voice coaxed of sleep that he spoke— tired of the torment of a racing mind. You would hold him tightly in your arms, resting your chin on his hair as he sobbed into your chest, allowing his emotions to ripple like a waterfall. He was yours, you wanted to be there as much as he was there for you.

His giant hand cupped your cheek, leading your lips to his. The kiss was gentle, slow, and filled with love, Satoru’s tongue was warm as it found yours, eager to taste more of you to have more of you— he couldn’t get enough. He held you tight, pressing against your abdomen as it bunched up the polyester fabric in between his fingers. His thumb caressing your cheekbone, kissing you was a piece of heaven; Satoru’s sanctuary. The way his lips connected to yours reminded him that you were perfect for him in every sense of the way. That you were still here with him.

Satoru pulled away, resting his forehead against yours to catch his breath. His eyes remained closed but a goofy smile was ever present, his heart thudding loudly he truly believed you could hear it, light pink dusted his pale skin, “My girl. Mine.” He murmured, attaching his lips to yours once more.

It was moments like these that you truly cherished, engraving his every word into your brain like a chanted prayer. Satoru was here to stay, he could not imagine parting from you; it wasn’t possible.

Together you grieved Suguru, the fallen angel that had big aspirations of changing the world for the better. Ideals that you could not see eye to eye on, the raven haired man swore up and down it was a world for his lovers. Even if it seemed selfish at the time he would burn down the entire world for you and Satoru. If it had meant taking the life of the innocent— the weak, for those he loved, he’d do it over and over again. But the question had always remained: Would either of you do the same?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The sun blazed down on the asphalt in a persistent manner, the heat waves radiated off of the dark pavement that burned the soles of shoes. Summer was unforgiving this year, humid and sickly that shade did little to provide an escape. The metal bleachers burned to the touch from constant heat smacking against them, the grass seemed as the only comforting place to sit underneath a Japanese cedar tree. Strands of green sticking to your thighs that you regretted wearing a skirt, almost.

First grade Jujutsu students practiced their combat skill in the enormous field, sweat dripping down their faces after an hour of intense training. The new student Yuta Okkotsu showed promise— improving his cursed energy little by little. Satoru had taken a liking to him, a powerful curse that followed him around— killing those that harmed him without a second glance. Your husband had a soft spot for teenagers that had a tough life, a man that could come off as arrogant had a huge heart. A few weeks ago Satoru had come to you, announcing he would be pleading Yuta’s case to avoid an execution even if it meant losing his job. You could never argue with him, standing next to him as you petitioned for the young boy as well.

Training had gone as any other day, students complaining about the heat but refusing to go inside— each competitive. Satoru stood with Yaga on the far end of the field coaching Maki and Yuta, while you and Shoko sat under a tree watching over Toge and Panda. The smell of tobacco wafted into your nostrils as Shoko lit up another cigarette, stating it would help with her irritation as she wiped sweat from her brow. Your fingers found the roots of grass to slowly pick at it, a distraction from the unbearable heat that made your body feel as if it would combust into flames.

Leaning back on your elbows you sighed loudly, throwing your head back further into the shade to look at the intricate leaves— hiding from the wretched sun. “How much longer are we going to torture the students in this goddamn heat?” Shoko groaned beside you.

“‘Dunno, until one of us drives Yaga up the wall with our complaining.” You chuckled, “Knowing Satoru I’d say soon.”

Due to Satoru being born in the winter season the six eyes preferred the cold and icy snow over the blistering heat. He thrived at the first snowfall, dragging you out of the warmth of your cozy bed to admire the sheet of white. His long legs would race to the backyard without the proper clothing to handle the freezing temperatures, slender fingers grabbing a handful of snow to feel the cool softness on his flesh. He’d spend a few hours outside admiring it with childlike wonder, you would oftentimes fight him to come inside as if he were a husky— stubborn and flourishing in the snow. It wouldn’t surprise you if your husband was currently throwing a fit about the sweltering heat to Yaga.

Booming voices ricocheted from the trees in the field, snapping you out of your thoughts. Shoko’s ears perched giving you a confused glance as she licked her finger to put out her cigarette, “What could that be?” She wondered.

Together you stood, requesting Toge and Panda to follow along in case it happened to be something serious. Sweat decorated your brow as the impending heat found you, raising the temperature within the confinements of your body. In the distance a large bird bigger than a human flapped its wings, the radiant golden color catching in the sun, throwing its head back to emit a loud squawk from its enormous beak. Bodies of students surrounded the creature, tuffs of milky white hair came into view as his tall lanky figure pushed past bodies. From where you walked you could see the tension in his shoulders, jaw clenched, and fists white-- something was wrong.

The length of your legs began to take lager hurried strides, loud pounding rang in your ears from the erratic beating of your heart. Heads turned as you drew closer, wandering eyes with a look of confusion stared back at you, “Satoru, long time no see!” A silky voice called, sweet like honey, a soft melody to listen to. A voice that closed up your throat, heart dropping to the depths of your stomach, eyes stinging with ocean water because it had been so long since you had heard it. The voice that comforted you when a tough day crossed your path, made you laugh until you cried, talked you through it in moments of ecstasy, and spoke sweet nothings to you.

As you pushed your way into the circle Satoru stood taut, a white blindfold covered his cerulean eyes, expression hard to read but his tight jaw spoke for him. You followed his gaze, time had frozen still as long raven hair met your eyes, glistening in the light of the sun. A smile adorned his features as he greeted Satoru with an arm around Yuta’s shoulder, he had yet to notice you. It had been nearly a decade since you had seen the familiar face, had him in close radius. “Suguru?” Your voice barely above a whisper, cracking pathetically towards the end.

His attention drifted towards you, “Name, it’s been a while.” The smile he wore faded the moment brown eyes truly caught a glimpse of you, the sight nearly broke his heart. You looked on the verge of tears, the yearning to run into his arms was evident as your hand blindly reached out-- but you held back, taking a hold of Satoru’s sleeve too paralyzed to move. The white haired man placed a protective arm on your waist as if to challenge Suguru to take a step further to either of you. But in truth Satoru would break down if given the opportunity, trying his best to remain strong, to come off as intimidating to the man that ripped his heart open; you both knew this.

“Step away from those kids right now, Suguru.” Satoru’s voice held a stern edge, the man in front of him was the only one that could affect the usual confident demeanor he had.

Suguru held back a smirk as he slowly removed his arm from Yuta, “ I heard the first years were quite special, it seems you still have an eye for talent, Satoru.”

Your gaze was fixed on the raven haired man, it felt like a sick joke, one that your mind deemed fit as a punishment for past mistakes you had once made. He looked different than before, his hair was much longer, reaching his waist. The purple eye bags and look of misery that had become a part of him almost a decade ago had disappeared, his skin practically glowing, he looked happier-- cockier than the man you once knew. You wanted to be as calm as Satoru, to appear stoic and un-bothered but the air felt heavy, the lump in your throat had formed so thick that it was nearly impossible to swallow back. For a decade you still found yourself grieving his sudden departure, the closure he had refused to give you and Satoru, leaving nothing behind but memories and a freezing empty spot in bed. “What are you doing here?” You asked, voice hostile yet the sense of longing was still there.

He tore his gaze from Satoru avoiding your watery eyes over to his entourage, “I came to declare war,” Suguru put it simply, “Five days from now I’ll be in Kyoto, I hope to see you all there.”

“A war?” Shoko scoffed, “Your ideals truly have gone to your head.”

“I’m simply creating a better world.” Suguru’s words left a bitter taste in your mouth, like rusty metal that had sat out in the sun long forgotten for an extended period of time. He no longer sounded like himself, his voice remained velvety and yet, the disconnect of the man he used to be was immense. It had brought you back to the time you were once a student, noticing his distant demeanor with hazy eyes that he looked unrecognizable. He closed in on himself, shutting you and Satoru out. Most nights had been spent sleeping on the couch or too wired as he stayed up an entire night frantically scribbling gibberish in his journal-- ideas to cleanse the world of the weak. He refused the assistance of the comforting arms of his lovers, rejecting their words of reassurance. Suguru had lost a drastic amount of weight, the churning of his stomach accompanied by a burning in his throat that kept him away from consuming food. He had become a shell of himself until one day his radio silence became permanent; leaving his lovers to fend for themselves without another word.

Only for him to return months later in the crowded square of downtown Tokyo claiming that it was all for his lovers. The world he was creating was the perfect one for those he cared about, asking to accompany him in the journey of discovering it together, only to be met by your tears and Satoru’s anger. It was the irreparable end of a relationship.

Biting your bottom lip harshly, you could taste the tang of metallic blood on your tongue, holding Satoru’s sleeve tighter, only for the milky haired man to search for your hand to intertwine your fingers-- squeezing it tightly, he could feel your agony, resentment, and pining. Focusing on his features, you wanted to burn them into your memory, hold them close to your heart because you would be damned if you forgot his face, “I think it’s time for you to go, Suguru.” You muttered, digging your nails into the palm of your hand imprinting crescent moons in the flesh; fighting back the tears that threatened to spill as you urged the man that still owned half of your heart to go.

Silence loomed overhead as Suguru processed the words that escaped your lips; soft that he almost missed them, how desperately he wanted to ignore them to take you and Satoru in his arms and make things better. The version of him you had known before was gone, that man was no longer a part of who he truly was, the weak and strong simply could not co-exist. Why couldn’t either of you understand that for his own selfish reasons, this was all for you? He turned on his heel, sauntering over to the enormous bird, only turning his head enough to catch a glimpse of the two people he adored the most, “I’ll see you in Kyoto. Until next time.” With that the creature expanded its wings, descending in the air with the man that still held onto your hearts.

Satoru watched as the massive bird disappeared into nothingness, the stitches in his heart that had once existed ripped open-- crimson blood gushing out, the ache unbearable. Holding your smaller hand tightly he began to walk toward the direction of his classroom, a small sob escaped your lips before you tried your best to hide it but he had heard it. The tall man stopped, only to see your pretty face covered in fat tears with quivering lips as you tried to fight off dramatic sobs. “Oh, my sweet girl.” Satoru cooed, bending down to envelope you in his arms. His large hand cupped the back of your head, stroking your hair as he held you tightly. He buried his nose in your hair, a small tear falling from his own eye but he was quick to wipe it.

“I- I miss him,‘Toru,” You choked out,“So much.”

“Me too, angel, me too.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩

Dark gray clouds covered the sky, leaving Kyoto in complete darkness. The sounds of war engulfed the city with crumbling buildings, destroyed vehicles, and thick clouds of smoke from small fires that had started. The perfect distraction Suguru had created to get to Yuta, it hadn’t registered in your minds that it had been his plan to get everyone away from the vicinity of Jujutsu High School.

You stood in a medical building to assist in healing those injured alongside Shoko, gifted the same ability of reversed curse technique with the upper hand of bringing those back from the dead on rare occasions. A skill you had spent most of your life trying to achieve, it had only been possible with the help of Tengen and Satoru. The consequences of cheating death had yet to show themselves to you, bringing back countless from watery graves— a draining task that consumed most of your cursed energy for a few days, it wasn’t used often.

Crouching over a severely injured fourth grade student the grand glass door of the building opened, as footsteps scrambled to deliver another injured student you felt the familiar cursed energy of your husband. “I have to go back to Jujutsu High, he set this whole thing up. Suguru is after Yuta.” He stated, gritting his teeth.

“I’m coming with you.” The urgency in your voice was hard to miss.

Satoru could only shake his head, holding his hand up to stop you from coming any closer to him, “No, it’s too dangerous, Name. Stay here and treat the wounded.”

He was always overprotective of you, your safety had always been the six eyes priority only growing ten fold the moment Suguru abandoned the both of you. You understood, but at the same time you weren’t weak, classified as a special grade two weeks after attending school. Training day in and day out when it came to combat, craving to be as perfect as Satoru and Suguru— the two strongest sorcerers. “I don’t care! I’m going with you and that’s final.” You had always been stubborn, constantly standing your ground and refusing any form of rejection when it came to proving yourself. It was a trait Satoru adored about you, but oftentimes it drove him crazy with worry, he knew you were strong but you were the last person he had besides Megumi.

Determination painted your features, clenching your fists at your side to show Satoru you weren’t going to give up. He couldn’t argue with his beautiful wife, especially with the way you looked at him as if you would follow him to the ends of the Earth. “So stubborn.” He huffed, taking your hand before teleporting the both of you to Jujutsu High.

It was silent the moment you arrived on campus grounds the smell of burnt wood wafted in the air as you walked hand in hand. A knot formed in your gut as if it were signaling you that something had gone terribly wrong, it made you tighten your hold on Satoru’s hand. The silence was deafening as the residue of a previous battle remained in the air and grubble of buildings.

Turning the corner of vacant buildings, you could see a figure in the distance covered in crimson liquid, missing a limb, long raven hair a disheveled mess as his signature bun had come undone, “You guys are late as usual.” Suguru weakly chuckled, clutching his side.

“The students in Kyoto were under your control?” Satoru asked, though he held no confusion, you both knew the answer.

Suguru leaned back on a cement wall letting out a ragged breath, “Yes, they all were.”

Letting go of Satoru’s hand you couldn’t care less about the things Suguru had done, the misery he caused when he disappeared, or even those he hurt. Your vision became blurry with tears as you took in his condition, bloodied and bruised as he struggled to maintain a steady breath. You could not bear to listen to much more, this time you had allowed yourself to run to Suguru as you had longed since seeing him on school grounds five days ago. Not giving Satoru a moment to think as he watches your figure bolt for the raven haired man.

Kneeling in front of him your arms wrapped around his neck bringing his body close to yours, without hesitation he wrapped his arm around your waist burying his bloodied face in your neck. The smell of jasmine and cedarwood welcomed you, the scent that had always belonged to him, the one that caused a sob to escape your lips. “You idiot.” You cried into his hair, clutching him tightly, afraid to let go and discover that he was a figment of your imagination.

You were warm, skin silky soft— he had forgotten how good it felt to have you in his arms, if he was being honest with himself he had forgotten your scent, how sweet and delicate it was. “There’s my sweet girl.” Suguru croaked, after a decade of pushing away the hurt he caused himself for leaving, was finally flooding out. Trembling as he hugged you tightly, burning your scent, curves, and hair into his memory. A treasure he’d lock up and guard with his entire being.

“I can fix it, let me fix it… let me heal you.” You begged, cupping his cheeks, blood staining your hands.

“Name, you can’t.” Satoru whispered, tilting his head down.

“What?! No, I'm going to fix h-“

Before you could finish your sentence Suguru took your hand, placing a kiss to the back of it, “It’s for the best, angel.”

You shook your head frantically, sobbing loudly as you looked between Satoru and Suguru, begging to not allow it to end this way. Burying your face in Suguru’s neck, closing your eyes as if to wish to wake up from this nightmare. To wake in your huge bed with them on either side of you, each wrapped around you as they slept soundly. The harsh cold breeze flowing in through your window as it snowed outside, dreading the moment Satoru woke up because he’d drag the two of you outside. Wanting a life back that once was, when Suguru was content with the things he had, when the two of you were enough for him, just one more time.

Suguru grabbed your hand, swaying your two bodies together. Noticing the rays of sunshine bouncing off of a rather large diamond on your finger nearly blinding him, he took a moment to admire it, chuckling bitterly as a wave of jealousy flooded over him. “My love’s got married.” Suguru could only blame himself for abandoning you both, envious he wouldn’t be able to share the Gojo last name with the both of you. A part of him was truly happy for you two, moving on after his selfish act. It wouldn’t have been fair to request either of you to remain stagnant.

“In October two years ago.” Satoru smiled sadly, twiddling with the diamond band on his ring finger. Proud to call you his wife, to be the one to take care of you and cherish moments spent together. It hurt that Suguru couldn’t be a part of it.

“I can fix you… then… then we can try to mend everything. Sugu please.” You choked.

But the decision had been made for you, the conclusion that Suguru was on death’s doorstep had become destiny in the moment. Your pleas and cries went unanswered even if it pained both of the men to cause such agony for you. In the end Suguru no longer had the ability to change, too stuck in his ideals to let them go. “I still love you.” You weeped.

Suguru’s heart sank at your words, even after the crimes he had commited and the torture he had put you through your emotions remained in tact, “I love you too.” The raven haired man kisses your temple, “and I love you, ‘Toru.”

A few tears had finally escaped his cerulean eyes, “I love you too… I’m sorry.”

A flash of purple came into your peripheral vision, the ringing in your ears was painful. Time had slowed as Suguru’s muscular body fell limp in your arms, the look of horror on your face was one that Satoru would remember forever. A loud scream erupted from your lungs that it felt as though they’d rip open at the seams, oxygen became impossible to inhale as you wailed out to the sky clutching his lifeless body in your arms. “No! No, ‘Toru… no. Suguru please,” The only thing you could muster was to beg and wail, preparing to use the entirety of your cursed energy to bring back your dead lover.

But Satoru pulled you away before you could do anything, holding your flailing body in his arms as he howled alongside you. He would hold onto this guilt for the rest of his life, ripping Suguru away from your lives as he meant nothing when he was everything would tear him to shreds. Suguru had perished by his own hands, he felt like a monster. All he could do was throw you over his shoulder and listen to the heart wrenching wails that left you as he dragged you away from Suguru.

He’d never forgive himself.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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chxrrydrxp · 2 months

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𝓃ℴ ℊℴℴ𝒹 (𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝓂ℯ)

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(Jason Todd x fem! Reader)

disclaimers: guys irl please communicate with ur partner 🖤, also jason is being a dick.

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The apartment was particularly quiet tonight, and you came home from work, stressed, exhausted, and in need of some type of relief. You lazily kicked off your heels and laid on the couch with arm over your eyes, not wanting to be bothered by anyone or anything. The crisp winter air flowed freely from the open window, causing small goosebumps to appear on your arms. It felt like hours went by, but you weren't quite sleep. Your brain flooded with all the stacks of paperwork that sat at your desk, waiting for you the next day.

The door unlocked, and in came Jason, his heavy boots thumping on the wooden floor. You felt a spark of annoyance coarse through your body, remembering that you had countlessly told him to take his shoes off in the hall to prevent him from tracking mud or wet snow in the apartment. Of course this flew over his head, as he laid his crimson helmet on the table.

You remained on the couch, still, as if you didn't want him to know you were awake. He made an observation of your coat, and hung his beside it. He lounged on the couch, running his hands smoothly through his dark hair.

He must've thought you were sleeping by his lack of greeting. That, or he too was stressed from whatever he did on patrols. You shifted a but, then uncovered your eyes. He made quick notice, his eyes gentle. "Hey baby..thought you were sleepin..", his hands grazed over your thigh gently. You groaned, throwing your head back on the armrest.

"You okay?" You wanted to yell at him for laying on the couch with his patrol clothes on. Hell, you wanted to complain about every single thing going wrong in your life, but you knew that wouldn't be fair. You knew it when you noticed the faint circles under his eye. He patiently waited for your response, mindlessly playing with a loose string on your black dress pants.

" I'm fine..tough day at work...," you trailed off.

Then you remembered his dirty boots. You glanced at the spot of dark brown dirt on your gray carpet that lay under the couch and extended to the console table. "Jason..your shoes. Again." You forced yourself to look away to prevent any words you didn't mean from coming out of your mouth. "Remember, you're supposed to put them outside." Usually, he'd curse under his breath and just put them away. Not this time. Instead, he rubbed his forehead tiredly and leaned his head back, a sigh leaving his lips. "I'll get em later..m' tired." You rolled your eyes at him, and stood up, escaping into the kitchen to prevent any more annoying discoveries, like him leaving his helmet on the counter again which was sometimes covered in blood.

"Damn it...Jason we don't have any food, I thought you went shopping yesterday," you exclaimed trying to keep your tone neutral. "Oh..yeah...I forgot." "Jason?" "What?" Your nerves were almost boiling over. "You can't just 'forget'. What are we gonna eat?" The couch creaked as he crawled off and walked into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, then sighed again. "We can just order something." You turned to face him, crossing your arms. "Or maybe you can just listen to me when I ask you to do something." He blinked hard at you, closing the fridge. "I'm sorry. It's not like I go out for hours every night and remember hundreds of names, dates, warehouses, whatever the fuck. Can you give me a break?" Your body went stiff and you steadied yourself against the counter.

"This is the 3rd week in a row Jason-" he cut you off, "You work in an office, baby girl. You sit down, and stare at your screen- is it (that) bad?" You clenched your teeth hard, feeling an emotional build-up. "No, Jason. I work with troubled kids in neglected neighborhoods-" You rushed over your words in a fit of anger. "Which you'd know if you ever paid any fucking attention to me!" In the instance of finishing the last word, you felt a wave of embarrassment hit you. His forest green eyes narrowed, and his clenched jaw softened...almost as if he was hurt. "Y/n...", he voiced faintly. You spun on your heel, walking away from him. Jason repeated your name as you went into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

His footsteps approached the door, and he was met with the faint clicking sound of the lock. He scoffed at himself and leaned his back against the door. "Come out y/n..". His command was met with silence. "Baby..please." Your heart broke a little, hearing the pleading in his voice. "Can we talk about this...face to face?" He could imagine you'd just tell him to speak from outside the door. The door opened, causing him to almost fall and you stared up at him, crossing your arms. "Hey..", he whispered lowly, reaching his hands out to touch yours, leaning his body so close, you were almost touching.

His body heat radiated off of him, making you mindlessly lean closer. He held your hands. "Look at me. I don't pay attention to you?" "Well..I didn't mean..", you shifted slightly. "No..I think I heard you correctly," Jason breathily whispered in your ear. "I just meant..." You trailed off. "Yeah?"

His voice rumbled at his throat. You looked everywhere but his eyes. He pinned you to the wall with an intimidating gaze. You hated the way your body reacted to his. Hated how a few minutes ago you wanted to rip his head off and now he has your thighs rubbing together at his mere words.

"Baby you're on my mind 24/7. It's you who always pushes me away as if you can't let yourself enjoy my presence," he teases. You roll your eyes. "Can't take you seriously when you're over here tryna get some friction," he muttered and glanced down. You opened your mouth to deceptively defend yourself but he pressed a finger to your lips. "What, you didn't think I'd notice?"

He hooked his fingers onto the hem of her pants, slowly dipping his hands below to feel her dampness. "You're so wet and needy for me and I (barely) touched you, go on...ask for it." Your eyes flickered away from his. "B-but we have to talk about this Jay. We can't just-" he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. "I know..I know baby" he cooed. "Just lemme me take care of you first.." He searched your eyes for approval, to which you nodded shaky with anticipation. Then he kneeled.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x fem!reader #ceri drabbles #red hood x reader #jason todd smut

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kodaiki · 6 months

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꒰ 12:37 P.M. ꒱ ❛ hogwarts bbf!dan heng x reader ༉‧₊˚✧

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐈𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘, leaning against a stone column in the corner of the courtyard, the air around you crisp with the chill of winter. there's a chatter of voices among them as the hour of lunch passes you by. fellow students pass by, their footsteps muffled by the layer of snow from the storm a few nights prior. the atmosphere is hushed, the winter silence broken only by the distant sounds of laughter and the occasional gust of wind. lunch hour is in full swing, and while your housemates are likely warming up in the great hall, you're out here.

you would be –correction, should be – in the great hall, probably enjoying some warm food with your fellow house buddies and not freezing to death but alas, procrastination is your rival once again, taunting you as you scribble down the best you can your homework for herbology without any distractions. you gnaw your lip through your struggles, your hair falling in front of your face, slightly swaying from the brisk winter breeze painting your nose pink.

your quill moves across the parchment as you work on your herbology homework, your breath visible in the cold air when you take a deep sigh. the crunch of footsteps drawing near makes a presence known to you, but still, your eyes remain focused on your task at hand.

“and what’s my baby sister up to today?” a deep voice chimes from above you paired with a chuckle.

“work, go away,” is your curt response as you barely look up to meet your older brother’s amused glance your way.

“but where’s the fun in that?” blade muses, stepping closer to your sitting figure, his feet crushing the fallen leaves beneath his feet.

it’s when you look up to glare at your seventh year brother when you notice the other pair of eyes looking your way, quietly standing behind blade. your brows raise and eyes widen at the sight. when your eyes meet, the guy quickly averts his gaze and instead, turns his attention to grass.

"hey dan heng," you murmur a light greeting, your tone a blatant shift from the way you’d spoken to your brother. your chin dips into the striped scarf around your neck showing off your house's colors as you feel the winter air tickle your nose.

blade, in turn, rolls his eyes at the obviousness of your tone and softened gaze.

"hey," dan heng replies curtly, offering a nod of acknowledgment. blade swings an arm over his shoulder, shaking dan heng slightly as he hoists him closer, to which he makes a sour and slightly uncomfortable, expression.

"oh, now that i've found you, dear baby sis, we could probably use some advice," blade drawls with a sly smile on his face. in return, your face twists into slight confusion as you tilt your head to the side in question. it seems that you're the only who doesn't know what he's talking about because dan heng quite literally freezes, his throat bobbing slightly.

"advice about what?" you raise an eyebrow, now no longer the slightest bit interested in your homework due in a few short hours.

"well, the yule ball's coming up in a few weeks," blade begins, wiggling his brows knowingly. you nod along, scratching the side of your head, briefly glancing at dan heng, wondering how he could need advice from you of all people. "do you have a date?" your brother then asks. you can't tell if it's a genuine question or if he's looking for a reason to tease you.

"no, i don't," you answer simply, glancing back down at your homework. you miss the way blade turns to look at dan heng. "so, what advice do you need?"

"well, as you're well aware, i'm probably going to ask kafka, my near and dear best friend,” he drawls as if it’s obvious. your eyebrows raise, well aware of his platonic soulmate bond with the purple haired student. though, over time you truly wonder if it’s platonic or not. “but dan heng here is busy beating himself up wondering how to ask his crush," blade finishes, a mischievous glint in his eyes. he smirks knowingly, clearly enjoying the revelation that he just dropped on you.

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise and your eyes widen slightly at the implication that dan heng has someone in mind to ask to the yule ball. not only that, it must mean he has some form of a serious crush on someone, period. the air seems to thicken with an unspoken tension as you process blade's words. the image of dan heng asking someone to the yule ball takes on a new significance, and a strange mix of emotions swirls within you.

"dan heng, a crush?" you ask, trying to keep your tone casual even though your mind is buzzing with curiosity – and maybe some buried jealousy.

blade chuckles, enjoying the reaction he has stirred. "oh yeah. he's been overthinking it for days, probably even longer. poor guy doesn't know whether to go for a grand gesture or something simple. it's like watching a potions experiment gone wrong."

“oh,” you say in acknowledgment, glancing at dan heng with your softest-least-obvious smile his way. he rolls his eyes at blade's tone of words, obviously speaking as if he isn't standing right beside him.

“so that's what brings us to you, y/n. personally, how would you-” blade begins to ask in a light-toned, almost nonchalant voice when he's nudged in the gut by dan heng. “hey, rude,” blade grunts at him, but brushes off the elbow to his side. “how would you want to be asked to the ball? i can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears when he’s pacing around our room.”

“i don’t pace,” dan heng quickly cuts in and it’s the first time he’s spoken since he and blade arrived at the courtyard.

“sure you don’t,” blade rolls his eyes. your brother turns back to you. “so? how’d you wanna be asked?”

you swallow back the lump in your throat and avert your gaze to the parchment of your unfinished herbology homework, though your mind is no longer focused on the intricate details of magical plants at the moment. the subtle revelation that dan heng has someone in mind for the yule ball has captured your attention, and you can't help but wonder who the lucky girl might be, though it does leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

you have no reason to feel this way, of course. as far as you're concerned, dan heng is your older brother's best friend. you've only ever been around him for reason of association since blade just loves to tease and poke fun at you, and you've always seen dan heng as a reliable friend. yet, as you continue to feign interest in your herbology homework, the image of dan heng asking someone to the yule ball lingers in your mind.

"well," you begin, tapping the quill against the parchment thoughtfully, as you attempt to push whatever negative emotions are bubbling in your system, "i suppose a simple and sincere approach is always nice. maybe a heartfelt note or even a private conversation."

blade feigns a yawn, covering his mouth with his hand for dramatic effect. "bo-oring...and here i thought you'd go for something more grand and romantic. you know, like a surprise invitation under the stars or a magically enchanted message."

"well, those can be nice too, but sometimes simplicity holds its own charm. it's the thought and effort that count the most." you recall earlier in the week when march 7th was asked to the yule ball with a grandiose sign and flashmob in the middle of lunch. of course, she adored it, but you couldn't imaging sitting through that without feeling a little second hand embarrassment.

dan heng seems to be listening intently, though he's doing a poor job of pretending not to be. you catch his eyes briefly, and this time, he doesn't look away as quickly. there's a subtle warmth in his gaze that you can't quite decipher, but you offer him an encouraging smile.

blade, ever the perceptive older brother, grins knowingly. "i think that's some solid advice, don't you think?" he asks, nudging his friend beside him. it's almost like blade is staring through dan heng, and you can tell there's probably something you're unaware of that they're mentally communicating about.

dan heng, still recovering from the unexpected topic of asking his best friend's younger sister for love advice of all things, stumbles over his words. "i, uh, yeah. simple is good, got it."

"see? even dan heng agrees. thanks for the wisdom, dear sister." he offers a salute of gratitude as he turns to leave with his friend.

"hey, dan heng?" you ask before the've left ear shot. the two boys turn around to glance at you, blade raising an eyebrow with an imperceptible expression on his face.

"hm?" he hums, tilting his head slightly, his eyes boring into yours. you have to look away for a split second before you start to blush.

"good luck," you smile brightly. "no matter how you ask them, i'll sure they'll love it and say yes." the words tumble out before you can think. by the time you've said them, your cheeks are a warm pink, something you brush off as the cold winter air from sitting outside for too long.

"thanks, y/n," he says, offering a smile of his own, enough to illicit your brain to short circuit, which you don't have to recover from immediately because the boys then walk away. blade, of course, manages to sneak a teasing smile your way, well aware of what's probably going on in your head.

with that, blade drags dan heng away, likely to impart more "wisdom" in a less public setting. you could only assume what blade was busy whispering in his ear that makes him push him off while blade laughs. you're left alone against the tree, the courtyard now quieter as the lunch hour comes to an end.

the revelation that dan heng might be preparing to ask someone to the yule ball lingers in your thoughts. as you finally gather your books and stand up, ready to head inside and get warm instead of staying out in the cold for too long.

the day passes as you go through the rest of your classes. you hand in your poor attempt of your unfinished herbology homework, receiving a raised brow from professor sprout. still, she seems to give an equally as understanding expression, chalking up your less-than-ideal attempt having do with the excitement that relates to the yule ball.

you walk through the halls of hogwarts, hugging your books close to your chest on your way to dinner in the great hall, a much needed meal waiting for you after your long day. your eyes are trained at the tiled floor ahead of you as your mind is too preoccupied to focus on everything else. the corridors seem unusually crowded, filled with students excitedly discussing their plans for the upcoming event.

as you turn a corner on your way to your common room, your scattered and distracted thoughts make you unintentionally collide with someone, causing your books to scatter across the floor. flustered, you start gathering them, apologizing profusely without looking up. "sorry!"

a familiar voice responds, "no worries. i should have been more careful, too." you glance up, and there stands dan heng, a small smile playing on his lips as he bends down to help you collect your books.

"oh, hey again," you greet in a slight breathless tone, unsure whether you should feel more or less embarrassed that you collided right into him. "thanks," you say as he helps, feeling a strange warmth in the air as your hands accidentally brush against each other while reaching for the same book before you both quickly yank your hands back.

"no problem," he replies, handing you the last book. there's a brief moment where your eyes meet, and it feels like time stands still. there's unspoken tension, you think, and its palpable.

dan heng was never a man of many words, you know. then again, one glance from him can hold a million words. despite not being of many words, you never felt any less close to him than your own classmates who've talked your ear off on countless occasions. it might be an inappropriate crush, having one on your older brother's friend, but it's not like you can do anything about it now.

before you can say anything more, dan heng takes a step back, rubbing the back of his neck. "well, i better get going."

"right," you mumble, still caught in the lingering atmosphere between you two.

you watch as he turns away to leave you in the empty hall, but just as he's about to walk away, you notice him hesitate and pause in place. your face expresses confusion when he turns to face you again and looks back at you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

"everything okay?"

dan heng seems to struggle with his words for a moment, his gaze shifting as if he's trying to find the right way to express what's on his mind. it's a side of him you haven't seen before, and it leaves you both intrigued and a tad concerned.

"yeah," he finally says after a moment, his voice a touch lower than usual, like he's in deep thought. "i just wanted to say, um, about the yule ball..."

"oh! did you ask out who you wanted to?" your brows raise as your curiosity is piqued. your curiosity must be a masochist of sorts because why on earth are you so eager to find out something that will without doubt potentially ruin your night?

dan heng chuckles softly. "not quite," he says quietly. "i was just going to ask, did you really mean what you told blade and me earlier?"

"about what?" your head tilts to the side as you scrunch your eyebrows and a thoughtful frown is on your face.

"how you'd like to be asked," he clarifies. "something simple?"

"oh," you smile shyly. "well, yeah. i'm personally not one to love grand gestures of affection with the attention it garners," you laugh lightly to yourself. "why?"

"just wanted to make sure i'd get it right when i asked` you."

"hm," you hum to yourself with a nod, barely registering his words. a few seconds pass and your head jerks up a bit to meet his serious gaze, your face displaying perplexity. "wait, what?"

at your lost expression, dan heng smiles (smiles!) with an amused laugh through his nose. "the advice wasn't for me to ask someone else, y/n." he reveals in a . when you're still too shocked to say anything, he asks instead. "would you want to go to the yule ball with me?"

your heart skips a beat at the unexpected question. for a moment, a long moment, you're frozen in place, trying to process everything he just said. the realization dawns on you that the secret crush you harbored might not be so one-sided after all.

the courtyard conversation wasn't merely about hypotheticals for dan heng, you knew that, but not to this extent! not to mention, your brother blatantly asked you how you'd like to be asked (on behalf of all girls, but still) to the ball. you feel a little bamboozled, to be quite honest, but in the best way.

the air is thick with anticipation as you meet his eyes. the warmth in them is more evident now, and there's a vulnerability that you never expected to see from someone as composed as dan heng.

"really, me?" you ask, a genuine smile tugging at your lips.

"of course, you," he says like it's most obvious answer. after a few seconds, his expression turns serious, "if it's uncomfortable for you or if you don't want to, forgive me-"

"no-no, that's not it!" you quickly cut him off before he can finish, waving your hands in front of him. "i'd love to." you beam.

relief washes over him, and a smile breaks across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "yeah?"

you nod in confirmation, still smiling widely. you jut your thumb in the direction of the great hall. "i was just heading to a late dinner. you wanna come?"

dan heng wordlessly nods with a smile and falls into step with you as you both begin walking through the long corridor.

"so...earlier today with blade..." you trail off, breaking the comfortable silence as you recall the courtyard conversation.

"all his idea," he sighs, rolling his eyes. "he knew i wouldn't have just asked so he just had an idea of his own."

"did blade know the whole time?" you ask.

"he's only been bothering me about it since the start of fifth year."

you pause in your step. "fifth year?" you ask, shyly peering at him through the corner of your eyes as you walk toward the great hall.

"yeah," he says, scratching the back of his neck as his ears go red. "apparently i wasn't subtle enough for your brother to notice. it took him a while for me to admit it..."

you laugh, recalling on your own side how your own brother taunted you for staring extra long at his friend. was he playing matchmaker this whole time? "does that mean we'll have to thank him at some point?" you can only imagine the shit-eating grin on his face, all by his own behind the scenes doing.

there's a brief silence between you two and you come to the same answer.

"no."

"absolutely not."

.... so that's the first fic im back with! i know im rusty so pls let me be...plots will get better i swear <3 ty for reading! also we just gonna go w dan heng and blade being besties it's an alternate universe ok

#blade is def ooc but idc hes my baby so ill write him that way <3 #im so so rusty so dont look if its bad :")#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai x reader #honkai dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #dan heng #dan heng x fem reader #hsr dan heng #star rail #star rail x reader #star rail x you #hsr fluff #hsr timestamp #dan heng fluff #honkai star rail x reader

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