#the part remaining looks not too bad but its not flowering and looks small now... andbim trying to see if i can possibly save the part icut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

em1e · 1 year

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⠀ 五条 + 夏 // RECUERDOS ⠀ ༝ ༝ gojo satoru + geto suguru ⠀ ༝ ༝ 3.2k words ⠀ ⚠︎ angsty kinda my b. this is a cyoe type story ! ⠀ — [ part 2 ] you were supposed to be dead, but by some miracle gojo's found you. geto, too.

i. dead

He thought he was going crazy, at first.

Who wouldn’t? You were supposed to be dead. Go on and call him psycho for seeing you in everything, everywhere.

The first thing he catches is your scent (it’s like picking up on something so vaguely familiar from childhood - an old memory that makes him double take and look around for what could possibly bring back the reminder of happier times). Gojo follows the smell absentmindedly through the busy streets, haphazardly bumping into other people and muttering half-hearted apologies without pause. He stops when he sees (h/c) hair enter a local grocery store.

It wasn’t possible, right? You were supposed to be dead. He follows behind without much thought, the soft chime of the doorbell making the clerk look up and greet him with a smile. He doesn’t acknowledge them, eyes set on your figure as you head towards the back of the shop - already knowing where whatever you have in mind to purchase is. Gojo keeps his distance, watching from three aisles over as you pick between two different apples, weighing and squeezing and examining until you decide the one in your right hand is much better than the one on your left. You bag the right one and put the left back in its place. From here, he can see your face clearly and he thinks numbly if there is a God out there, surely they are taunting me.

It’s you. You in every way he remembers you. The same soft gaze over everything your eyes meet, the same gentle but deliberate touch, everything done with confident intent. There’s small hints to prove you’ve grown older, that you have changed - more adult, more mature, but deep down he feels it. It’s you.

He finds himself following a few steps after you as you leave the store. He can feel his own heartbeat in his ears, mind traveling a million miles a second as he tries to come up with some sort of explanation as to what was happening in front of his eyes. You stop at a pop-up flower shop, laughing animatedly with the owner before deciding on a bouquet of your favorite and carrying them away in one hand, the other clutching the rest of your belongings and recently purchased groceries. And he watches as you enter a nearby apartment, watches through the window as you greet the doorman with a smile and offer him one of your flowers, and watches you disappear behind the elevator doors.

He leaves with a bitter taste in his mouth.

ii. reunited

You were supposed to be dead.

He’s brought back to that reminder looking at old pictures of when you went to Jujutsu High with him and Geto. Your smile so wide in each picture, your eyes crinkle in the corners with your arms thrown on either boy's shoulders - the bitter taste returns to his mouth.

He knows now, you aren’t dead. Some part of his mind rejects the thought, some part of him rejoices in the fact. Gojo’s done some research on his own (also read: stalking) to find you seem to have a normal life. What happened after that fight?

Memories flood back from that dreadful night ; buildings were crumbled around them, and all Gojo could manage to think about after the demolition was where you were. He watched you take a bad hit, watched you fall off one of the many now broken down buildings, and you had yet to reappear among the other faces. Geto, as if sensing his friend's stress, starts to scream out.

“(y/n)!”

Geto’s scream is met with silence, and for once in his life, Gojo can’t find it in himself to move forward. To join his friend in his search for something. A corpse, part of your shirt, anything that could show proof of your remains, to prove that you were even there in the first place.

Geto finds nothing in your wake, falling to his knees into the rubble and digging until his knuckles are all scraped from the cement and brick and glass and digging still when his fingertips are raw and bleeding, hoping to find anything.

But he doesn’t. Gojo remembers numbly how they buried an empty casket. Pronounced dead with no body to match the call. He’s brought back to wondering why. Why you never told them otherwise, why you never came back to the school, why you never fixed this wrong. Does Geto know you’re alive? Your death absolutely crushed him, molded itself around his heart and formed a tough shell that Gojo finds hard to crack.

He figures out your routine is just that - a routine. Very plain in every sense of the word, but easy to follow, easy to plan around.

So it’s no surprise to him when you leave that same grocery store, items balanced meticulously in hand while saying something to the clerk who knows you by name. Without a second thought, Gojo pushes himself away from the wall he had been watching you from, head held high as he walked forward with mock intent to enter the same shop and oops -

He’s knocked everything out of your hands!

And consequently, has knocked you down as well. You’re quick to apologize, despite being the one to take the brunt of impact, and go to gather your items as quickly as you can. Gojo crouches to assist you, waving off your apology hastily.

“No, no, no need to apologize. I wasn’t paying attention.” He ends with a hum, picking up a now bruised apple that rolled out of your bag and offering it to you.

Here, he can see your face up close, and he takes in every little detail from behind his sunglasses. You finally look up at him as you take the apple from his hand, giving a small smile that makes something in his chest twist.

“Thanks.” You shove the fruit back into your bag and Gojo offers his hand as he stands up, which you take gratefully. He grips your hand for a second longer than necessary, before letting his own drop back to his side, chin up and head tilting slightly as if he’s really thinking about something.

“Say, do I know you? Ya look familiar.”

Your own head tilts in mock of his, eyes scanning his face and figure before your lower lip juts out and you shake your head, “No, I don’t think so. What’s your name?”

His eyes narrow from behind his dark lenses, though he offers you his hand, “Gojo Satoru.” You shake it with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, no, I don’t recognize that. (l/n) (y/n).”

He drops your hand for a second time with a hum, “You must have one of those faces.”

You shrug, smile ever-growing at him and he wonders if the sun could ever be as blinding in comparison. “It was nice to meet you, Gojo. Sorry again for running into you!” With a final wave, you’re moving past him to go back to your apartment. He knows this because he knows you. He knows you have to go home and start dinner right before your favorite show comes on TV so you can watch it while you eat. Then you’ll clean your kitchen, brush your teeth, and read a chapter from your favorite novel right before bed.

Somehow, he also knows watching from a distance won't be enough forever. Things still aren't exactly clicking to him. Did you really not remember him? Or were you just saying that? He leaves with the hope of finding out.

iii. living

Gojo doesn’t intend to lose you a second time. He settles this with himself laying awake one night, room dark and mind heavy. If you left for good reason, he’s sure he could accept it. Maybe, with more thought, he could bring you back. Such a selfish hole to spiral down.

It doesn’t keep him away the next day, already shopping at your frequented store. You come in five minutes earlier than he expects, and to no surprise head straight for the fruits. A perfect apple already in hand, he pretends to look between the selection of remaining apples, head tilting back and forth as he examines ones he knows aren’t nearly as good as the current in his grasp, but putting on a show for no one in particular.

You step beside him, already giving him that big smile he’d recognize miles away and pick up an apple to examine yourself.

“Funny running into you again.” You pick up another and compare them with the squeeze test.

He pretends he’s surprised that you’re suddenly beside him, turning to look at you as if he wasn’t studying you the minute you stepped in the building.

“Oh, it’s you!” He says after a moment, offering a small smile in return, “Very funny running into you! You wouldn’t believe what I found.”

He passes you the perfect apple without much thought, not catching your amazed daze at the fruit as he reaches for his wallet to pull out the picture of the three of you and offering that as well. “I couldn’t get such a pretty thing like you outta my head - knew I recognized you from somewhere.”

You all but gawk at the photo, apple long forgotten as you take in every detail.

“Is this me?”

He watches your expression shift from behind sunglasses, unsure what to make of this statement.

“It is.” He says finally, “Do you . . . you don’t remember?” A small shake of the head is his answer. “This is you,” his arm brushes against yours slightly to point out the obvious, “this is me, and this is Geto. We were all friends back in the day.”

“You . . . knew me?” Your voice is so small, and Gojo forgets for a moment that the two of you aren’t the only ones in this store, in this reality.

“I . .. did, yeah.” He looks around and finally takes in the other patrons in the establishment, the workers joking and having a good time and Gojo hates that he’s potentially ruined your week with one photo. “Say, why don’t we get outta here and I tell ya all about it - maybe you can tell me what you’ve been up to, too?”

It’s like his voice breaks you out of a trance, doe-eyed expression moving from the photo to finally look at him. You offer a small nod, frozen in place for a second longer before giving one more look to the photo and then looking away again. “Sure, that sounds good. D’ya mind me finishing up here? We can go back to mine after and talk?”

For the first time in forever, you sound hesitant. Unsure. You don’t know what to make of Gojo or of that photo and everything blurs together until you’re stepping foot in your apartment, bags placed on the counter as Gojo enters your home. A silence surrounds you, though it’s not truly unwelcome. For a moment, he can see your discomfort with him - he’s uncertain if it’s because he’s in your space, or if it’s from the new found information. Part of him thinks it’s a mixture of both.

“Nice place.” He hums absentmindedly, sliding off his shoes with his hands in his pockets, taking in everything as an official guest and not some stranger staring in from the street.

“Thanks,” you’re moving to keep yourself busy, putting away things and picking up others to make it seem tidier than it currently is, “wasn’t expecting guests, sorry for the mess.”

Gojo honestly doesn’t feel like anything is out of place - it all feels so homey, so uniquely you that if you told him this is how everything was meant to be, he’d believe you without a seconds hesitation.

“S’okay, just seems lived in.” He’s careful to not rush in too quickly, not wanting to make you any more anxious than you already are. “Nothing wrong with that.”

You finally gesture towards the living room, grabbing waters from your fridge and passing him one as you sit on the couch. He takes this as an invitation to sit as well, keeping his distance while you tuck your legs under you with them crossed. He opens his mouth to start, but you beat him to speaking while openly staring at him.

“What’s with the sunglasses? I don’t think I’ve seen you take them off . . . well, ever.”

Gojo almost wants to laugh at the question when you ask. You used to know. Surely this wasn’t all an act, right?

“Light sensitivity,” he says simply with a shrug. A silence falls over you again, and you relish in it while looking around your apartment. “What kind of questions do you have?” He asks finally, deciding someone has to break the silence and he seems to be the one with less anxieties.

You suck in a breath, meeting his gaze and then looking away.

“Who . . . How do I know you?”

You know he’s already explained it to you, but it seems just partial. Clearly, there’s more. Other things, whatever they may be, are missing.

“We went to high school together,” he leans into the couch, arm slinging over the back, “you, Geto, and I were really close friends.”

“Were?” You parrot, practically begging for more than the small crumbs he’s provided you with.

“Were,” he repeats simply, “you disappeared one day after-” flashes of you falling from the building come to mind, “after school one day. We never saw you again.”

“Oh.” You say quietly. “Did anyone . . . look for me?”

“Yeah,” he feels his chest tighten, Geto falling to his knees and digging desperately, “never found anything. It’s almost shocking to see you here now, honestly.”

When he finally looks back over to you, you’re staring holes into the floor.

“I woke up in a hospital a couple years ago,” you say without being prompted, “I didn’t . . . Couldn’t remember who I was or what happened. The doctors told me there was an earthquake in the area and an older couple found me in the rubble of a destroyed building . . . I never . . .”

“Never got your memory back?” Gojo finishes for you, taking in how much you struggled to talk about this. You shake your head.

“Not fully. Eventually I remembered who I was, I guess, but not really anything else. There wasn’t any record of me anywhere so I was basically . . . I dunno, a nobody. Started from scratch.”

He watches you intently, trying to decide if this is really all true. You have no reason to lie to him, right? This couldn’t all be some ploy?

“Can I see the picture again?” You ask so softly that Gojo doesn’t think he could ever deny you. He pulls the photo out of his pocket and gently passes it to you. You stare at it, taking in every detail like it’s the first time you’re seeing it again. “Who did you say this other person was, again?”

“Geto,” he hums, “he was one of our closest friends.”

“Was?” Your eyes shift from the picture to him.

He nods, “He and I sort of fell out, after a while. We don’t really talk anymore.”

You nod in return, seeming to understand. Silence washes over the two of you again, and Gojo makes no move to change it this time.

The two of you spend the next few hours trading questions between each other - you asking Gojo how things were in the past, and Gojo returning with how things are in the present. He learns you’re a school teacher at a local elementary school (and you love all of your students with your entire being), that you are still the kind hearted person he remembers you once were (how you go out of your way for others is admirable), and that you were thinking about getting a new pet (but you’re unsure if you’d be able to give them proper attention).

He leaves with more than one of his questions answered, and with an invitation to come back around anytime on your tongue as he walks out of the apartment. He knows the offer is something he will take to heart.

iv. memory

Knowing what you do now feels . . . weird. Gojo has made it a point to drop by every now and then, a ‘healthy check-in’ he likes to call it, but you suspect he just wants to rebuild whatever bond you’ve lost from the past few years. You don’t mind, honestly, happy to reconnect.

He happily talks about your past, retelling memories in hopes of maybe bringing something back, but it never does. He avoids talking about Geto (you suspect it was a bad falling out) and you don’t pressure him to speak about the male.

No one could imagine your surprise when you see the enigma walking around the streets on one of your days off.

He holds himself high, a confident aura surrounding him so thick you freeze when he passes you. You’ve never been one to be so direct, stunning even yourself when you turn on your heel and tap his shoulder gently. He makes it no urgency to face you, posture unchanging as he takes you in.

He eyes you up and down, and you almost wonder for a second if maybe he isn’t who you thought you were. The picture you’re basing his looks on is what, 15 years old? Should you really be betting the entirety of introducing yourself on that?

“Something I can help you with?” He asks, voice much softer than you expect it to be.

It pulls you out of your own stunned silence, blinking at him, “You’re Geto right?” You almost cross your fingers he says anything but no.

“I am, who are you?”

You breathe a small sigh of relief, shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I’m (l/n) - (l/n) (y/n), I knew you looked familiar.” You don’t see how his eyes widen slightly, too distracted by your own excitement to notice. “Gojo has been telling me about how we used to know each other, it’s crazy you’re here right now!”

“(l/n)?” He repeats, still taking in everything that is you. “Haven’t heard from you in a while . . .” You were supposed to be dead.

The thought weighs heavy in his mind, and he wonders for a moment if maybe this is some cruel trick by a curse. Maybe this is God punishing him for any of his wrong doings.

He doesn’t realize you were talking to him until you’re tilting your head at him expectantly, waiting for a reply.

“Sorry,” he waves apologetically, “I spaced out. This is just quite the surprise.”

“It’s alright,” you offer a smile, “I was asking if you’d like to catch up? If you’re not busy, of course.” You add quickly, not wanting to suddenly take up his day if he already had plans.

The curses at his side voice their concerns, their need to talk strategy and plan, but Geto returns your smile and gestures to a nearby cafe, “I have some time.”

You don’t realize how nervous you are until you’re sitting down with your drink, Geto sitting across from you with a smile that you don’t think has left his face since you got his attention.

“So,” he starts after taking a sip of his drink, “where have you been all these years?”

#salmon rowe #gojo saturo x reader #saturo gojo x reader #saturo x reader #gojo x reader #saturo gojo #gojo saturo #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto sugu #suguru geto #x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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cheshire-silent-cat · 11 months

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Move my heart

Hobie x reader (Pt2)

What a crazy story line, I don’t even see Gwen like this but at the same time I do, I think she is very mistrusting especially in the new movie, anyways Hobie still remains my knight. I thought of this part of the story while washing my hair and because I yelled “Eureka!!” I got soap in my eyes and mouth, so take that as a sacrifice worth your likes, follows comments and all that good stuff. For those of you who actually love me, I’m fine Dw and for those who are laughing 🖕 😂. Jk love you guys and enjoy the story, pls let me know if you see any mistakes so I can fix ‘em.

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Arriving at the scene, Miguel and Hobie attempted to attack it head on, but were thrown out of the way, Hobie made impact with the solid wall, exhaustion taking over his body and he did not get up “Hobie!!” Gwen screamed, every plan thought of failed, this goblin monster was just too big, in order to keep Hobie safe, you used your web to leave him on a park bench away from the battle, the others devised a plan to manually push the monster into a portal back to HQ, and there they could try to contain the monster, using brute strength they all pushed the monster into the portal but it was resisting, roaring to keep them away, till this moment you had not exactly engaged in the fight instead you had been watching , you spotted a splinter at the root of the monster’s wing, you jumped on it’s back, “hey spider-belle, that is really not safe, get down” miles yelled out, you pull out the wood piece, and the monster lets out a huge sonic roar in pain, you pop down in-front of the monster and in tried moving back, it tried wiggling off but you were persistent, “easy….easy, you’re ok” the monster slowed down to your voice, “now, see I’m not so bad hmm? How do your wings feel” you ask hopping down and it flaps them frantically, then nuzzles it’s nose into your stomach lifting you up and you hug back “you are very welcome” it drops you down very slowly and you end up sitting on your knees with the beast’s huge head on your thighs “we allowed you go on a rampage, we must have frightened you….so much, I’m sorry, but it’s alright now” you kissed the beasts head, the beast stood up straight raising its huge hands to you and you climbed on, it moved you to its head and you both walked into the portal, you promised to visit and the machine sent the beast home.

After several hours, hobie opened his eyes, he had been laying on your thighs and he was completely embarrassed, his hands were wrapped around your waist signifying that he must have pulled you into this position, you were talking to him, he expected, you were cursing him for putting you in such a position so he pretended to still be asleep in order to hear what you had to say to him (in his sleep) but to his surprise you were humming, fiddling with the spikes on his mask, your voice was so sweet and calm he felt like he was floating, and you smelt like award winning flowers, and your waist was so small his face was buried in your open torso and to him your skin was like clouds he had never slept so peacefully, “oh you are awake” you sang and instinctively Hobie jerked up in embarrassment, “uh Yh Yh” he said looking away from you “how did you sleep” you asked trying to meet his gaze “feel like I was smashed against a brick wall” he said his thick accent attempting to soothe your worries “that’s cus you were tough guy, can you stand” you asked getting up from the bench, “don’t worry about me sweetheart I’ll be fine, I don’t believe in pain, that’s a fascist excuse for slacking off” his voiced trailed off as you looked at him with utter disbelief but you still respected him for some reason, “alright c’mon big guy” you place his hand over your shoulder, and Hobie stands up, he thinks of fighting your intentions but he couldn’t bring himself to refuse you and ends up going with it as you support a limping Hobie into a portal to his world .

“Creepy how you know where I live, love” he says, “oh this was a guess” “meaning??” “I was just going to keep portal jumping till I found your world” you both laugh and drop Hobie on his couch, you attempt to take off hobie’s mask but before you could reach it Hobie grabs your hand, and you pull back, resisting the urge to take off your own mask.

“Sorry… I’ll leave, take care of yourself ” you say stepping back to open a portal. “I got a shit ton is of pot and I don’t think I can finish it all by myself” Hobie said his hands waving around as though he was actually making efforts to look cool “pot as in weed?” You asked closing the portal, “love, I’m asking you to stay” he said in a condescending tone, “fine I’ll go start the kettle” you were met with a confused silence “what?? I don’t smoke and this place is freezing, you have your way and I have mine” you say looking away as you pour the already hot water into a cup of grass, as you are doing this Hobie gets up walks auto behind you and places his jumper on your shoulders, scared and blushing out of your mind you turn around to leave, now finding yourself cornered by him, his tall body towering over your small frame, both your eyes gazing at the masks of one another, and in that moment time stood still.

A few minutes later you found yourselves laughing at each others music and politics related jokes, making voice impressions and giggling like kids, you still had your masks on but both of them were raised above their mouth and noses as they smoked and drank the pot, although you were both pretty high, every time you drank your tea, you made a subtly unimpressed facial expression, “so how is it” he gestured to the tea, “it’s an acquired taste” you giggled, “so it’s shit” he asks “what? No” with that he picks the cup out of your hands and try out the tea, “I was right, try this” he says holding a blunt to your lips, “I’m not sure I’ll be good at it” you say attempting to slide away from him, he snakes his hand around your waist to stop you, reluctantly to take the blunt in between your lips.

See this wasn’t your first time smoking pot but you weren’t sure if it would be up to his standards, after a few drags you got up, “I should be on my way home now” you giggled, “nah nah, no portal jumping, under the influence”, “I’ll be fine tough guy-“ he got up pulling you to him and kissing you out of the blue.

The next morning, you woke in hobie’s room, wearing his jumper over your suit, next to you he was still sleeping, with his mask on revealing his nose and mouth, flashes of last night resurfaced in your memory, and you suddenly felt the urge to leave, not just because you didn’t know how much time had passed in your own world but because it had been a while since you had last kissed a person and you were not trying to catch feelings for someone you knew wouldn’t feel the same way. You snuck out of hobie’s room, gently closing the door after you, now turning around to leave, you are met with gwen’s harsh gaze, of course you did not know how to feel, she had been judging you from the moment she met you, not because she didn’t like you, it was because she did not trust you, she was used to being the only girl in the friend group, the only girl around Hobie, and not having another girl around one of her closest friends especially this super skilled, super sexy beloved spider person that is now wearing her friends jumper that she usually wears, sleeping in a home she usually sleeps in. The silence is loud, so loud that the uncomfortable atmosphere manages to wake Hobie up, a shirtless but masked Hobie walks out of his room and at that same time a portal opens and out of it appears Miles and pavitr, “hey gwenny, you’ve met y/n AKA spider belle” he says snaking his arm around your waist in attempt to dim the awkward atmosphere, “hang on, she slept here” Gwen asked sounding a tad bit ruder than usual considering the fact she was talking like you were not in the room, Hobie might be a punk but he is still a respectful gentleman which also means he won’t take shit like that, in an annoyed and defensive tone he responds to Gwen “yeah what of it”.

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie x you #hobie x y/n #hobie my beloved #hobie spiderverse #spider punk #spider punk x reader #spider punk x y/n #spider punk x you #gwen x hobie #hobart brown x reader #hobart brown #hobie headcanons

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thedarkheretic156 · 2 years

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IV_ Eternal Flame_IV

PARTS ❧ Mortals ❧ Death ❧ Sing ❧ Hunt ❧ Loss

TW: slight gore.

The old folklore of the east whispers of a terrible power. Wielded by a lone demigod, fated to walk through the eras the dark fires of hell dancing on her fingers. With no regard for human life, she was fated to be feared and worshipped. But fate is a bitch. Now cursed to be stripped of her powers and doomed to mortality she finds herself in the care of a sworn rival. The great Daiyoki of the west.

❧Hunt❧

I groaned into the grass. It was hot, unbelievably humid and I was bored out of my mind. The cicadas buzzed loudly around us as Rin and I sat making flower crowns from wildflowers. The act felt strange to me, I hadn't ever really stopped and bothered to look at flowers. Much less play with them. But the child seemed to have found curiosity in everything.

Rin sat among a patch of violet-blue flowers, thin fingers wrapping flower tendrils into delicate braids. She looked so content just doing that. I wondered what it would be to feel that at peace. I sighed, throwing a clump of grass in the air. "Rin?" I asked, "Do you want to go hunt?"

Rin's humming stopped, "Hunt?"

I shrugged, "or anything else really, I could teach you how to spar." "I don't like to fight," Rin replied meekly, setting the flower crown down. "I don't think I could hurt anyone." She said, shuddering as if repressing a bad memory.

I frowned. "Just because you can wield a sword doesn't mean you have to hurt people," I replied. "The choice remains with the master, not the weapon."

I arched my back, the laziness of the humid evening weighing down on me. "You're human. You're a woman. The world will be harder on you." even as I spoke, I wondered why I cared all of a sudden.

A small voice rang in my head, what does it matter? A human child, bound to death, what good could a blade bring to her life?

Rin shook her head, "I have lord Sesshomaru to keep me safe." She said smiling, I rolled my eyes.

"And master Jaken, and Ah-un." The child continued in a sing-song manner, "And now~" she added, "I have you too." My half-lidded eyes flew open, shocked more by the brazen coincidence of the words. Wei, the real Wei, had said the same thing. Grinning her beautiful smile, so bright it rivaled sacred fire burning behind her.

And what had happened to her?

I felt myself grimace at the old memory. And then, even after all that, I had just let her die.

10 more days. I counted down. 10 more suns before the feast of Manna, could I even stay near her after that? Can I see through the belief the human child had put in me? Something dark settled in me. Rin placed the finished flower crown on my head. "All done!" she announced, "You look so pretty!" she said clapping her hands.

Not this one. I thought, promising it to whatever wretched deity that was listening. I won't fail this one too. The dusk settled in, painting the sky a beautiful auburn, against the vast sky, Rin's frame gleamed with life. The soft scent of wildflowers clung to her palms. For the first time Y/n, felt peaceful. But she hadn't just realized it yet. Not quite yet.

You are going soft, daughter of the hills.

I jerked up, sitting around wallowing in thoughts was doing nothing.

"Rin," I said. I needed to do something about my boredom, "what do you think about having Pork for dinner?"

"This feels like a bad idea." Rin said sheepishly, "We could always just eat the fish lord Jaken got for us." She said shuffling hesitantly. I grunted, "take this as a small token of advice Rin, never settle for alms from someone, when you can get better things by yourself." I strapped Mrutunjai to Ah-un's saddle, patting the fire-demons snout. He huffed in response lowering one of his heads for a pat.

"But your wounds-" Rin continued, "I don't think you should hunt until they are completely healed, and its already dark, what I lord Sesshomaru finds out-"

I looked at the young girl and grinned. Rin felt a rush of warmth as the cockiest smile laced the older female's face. There was truly something different about her she couldn't fathom. At times like these when she smiled, Rin would feel as though the woman should have been born with razor-sharp fangs.

I pushed my long braid over my shoulder, "Let Onee-san handle this." Th further we walked into the forest the more nervous Rin grew. I knew all she could think about was how Sesshomaru wouldn't approve of their little exercise. But right now I couldn't care less, the Daiyokai and Jaken couldn't be seen since morning. These two would just wander away without any explanation, expecting us to stay put like good little humans and I was far over it.

Having to wait around for them to return to do anything was getting on my nerves. The frustration seeped into my steps as I angrily strode forward. Ah-un at my heels. The overhead canopy grew thicker and Ah-un grunted. He seemed to have spotted something. I narrowed my eyes, scanning the pitch darkness of the forest before us, there was a faint twitch and I grinned, "Good boy" I whispered to the fire demon.

I pulled on his reins and the fire demon stopped, Rin peeked out from his saddle, "What's wrong?" I motioned her to stay quiet and slipped Mrutyunjai off the saddle. I gave her a departing wink and patted one of Ah-uns heads. In an unspoken command, one fire demon to another, Ah-un understood perfectly, leaping gracefully into the midnight sky. Taking Rin away at a comfortable distance from the hunt site. I leaned against my sword, warming my human body for what was to come. An undeniable thrill went down my spine as I wrapped my fingers around the familiar hilt. Usually her blade would have roared to life, quivering with bloodlust. But right now it felt dead in my hands. I adjusted my stance. No time to mope over that now. I locked my eyes on the beast, hiding perfectly with the stripped brown trees around the undergrowth. Mud flies buzzed around, and the beast's ear flick was the only sign I needed to charge. The boar noticed, obviously. At the first crunch of the dry leaves under my foot, the monstrous beast burst out of its hiding place. Plowing chunks of earth with its upturned tusks on its snout. The bellow sent birds flying from all directions.

My speed was drastically low, the human body alien to any kind of fighting, I had lost so much strength, I needed both my hands to hold up my own sword. But my mind hadn't forgotten the eons of harsh training. The demon instinct honned over the years and just the pure thrill of drawing blood took over completely. The boar charged at me, I steadied the blade in my hand and waited, just a little closer now. I dropped to my kneed, wringing the wicked blade with me, slicing through the beast's front legs. The animal's scream rang through the forest, the crimson blood splattering everywhere. The wound tipped it off its balance, slamming head first into the trunk of a wide mahogany.

Good. I thought It was a clean cut through its legs not powerful to dismantle the limb but enough to send its balance for a toss. The splatter of blood had already covered one side of my face. Out of habit, I stuck my tongue out and tasted it. The metallic taste of blood sent shivers down my spine. More.

I needed more.

It charged again, and dashed towards me, its wounded legs buckling, the upturned tusks narrowly missed my torso as I slashed the sword across its eyes. If I still had my ayakashi body I would have just let the beast crash into me, it would have been a blow I could take easily. But now I had to dodge even the lightest attack, one mistake and it would smash me up against the bark of a tree. Well, it just made it that much more thrilling.

The beast now half blind squirmed before me in a panic frenzy. I pulled mrutyunjai up, my arms shaking with excitement and exhaustion. And charged again. It continued to scream in agony as I sliced through it, evading the tusks and curved hoofs. My blows were clean yet ruthless, chopping off the beast's hind legs, ears, and chunks of its snout before allowing it to die. I growled giving the final blow, sinking the blade hilt-deep into its heart. The beast spluttered out more blood before finally falling silent.

I drew the sword from the corpse and Ah-un and Rin descended down. I kneeled down beside the beast pressing my palm against its snout. "king of beasts, slain in sport, slain in hunger, I bow down for your sacrifice." I whispered out in the old tongue, a prayer my clan spoke after every kill.

Rin's pale face popped out of the saddle again, "is-is it d-dead?" she whispered, there was a queasy look to her face like she was going to be sick. I tried to stand up, but my knees gave away. The little hunt seemed to have taken a massive toll on my human body. I doubled over, the world before me spinning. Rin squealed, running towards me at once, I felt her thin arms around me as she spoke, "are you okay? You're hurt aren't you?!" She wailed out, "I knew this would happen I knew -"

I opened my mouth to reassure her but a familiar croak beat me to it. "THERE THEY ARE!" Jaken's strained voice called out, "M-master Jaken-" Rin started, but the toad demon was fuming. Fuming.

I had no strength left to retaliate. Fuck I was worn. There was no breath left in me and my whole body shook from exhaustion. I dropped to the ground, pushing back blood-slick hair from my face.

"UNGRATEFUL HUMANS BOTH OF YOU" he screamed at us, "Going off alone at night, into the forest, without any courtesy of even ASKING your Master Lord Sesshomaru! you have no right!" he continued, "No right to wander off on your own, NO RIGHT- not when Lord Sesshomaru has so generously taken your useless self under his wing-" his gaze pinned on Rin, still smoldering with anger. And I wasn't going to take that.

"We went on a hunt." I explained simply, reigning in the tide of anger rolling in.

He pointed a green finger at me, "I knew it was a bad idea to take you in." He snarled. "There wasn't any use for another dead weight troublemaker here-

"Load the beast on the saddle," I told him softly. There was a long period of silence that followed before Jaken went red with rage, "Only Lord Sesshomaru can command me. He boomed shaking with anger, "you filthy, low-life, undignified-

"Rin." My voice was pure venom. I had just about enough of these insults, "How about we have frog legs for dinner as well?" I asked murderously, The intent to kill seeped into my tone. For a moment I completely forgot who I was and who the goblin in front of me was. I just wanted to kill again. Draw blood. I felt the trance take over me. I flicked out my tongue tasting the thick, boar blood caking my face. More. Cut its throat. A death-like whisper spoke in my head.

Skin it alive. Another whispered.

More. They sang in unison. More.

I felt myself raising Mrutyunjay again-

"Jaken."

The cold voice snapped me back to reality. I blinked realizing what just had happened, the trance wore off as soon as it had appeared. The bloodthirsty voices faded out as if someone had flipped a switch. The thought that I would have struck Jaken down, right in front of Rin made me shudder.

Anger, daughter of the hills, if you don't leash your temper it'll run you over.

I looked up to see Sesshomaru toss the beast onto Ah-uns back. His amber eyes flashed towards me. Molten gold. My human blood quivered, making my teeth clatter. My mortality itself recoiled from pure daunt, as my survival instincts kicked in. I was standing in front of something so much more powerful than my human self. He called it back, tearing the cold unreadable eyes off my figure. I knew more than well what he was doing, a silent warning, using one's ayakashi aura to suppress the weaker species.

A reminder of who really the daiyokai here was. He turned away wordlessly, taking Jaken with him. His long silver hair faded into the canopy as Rin helped her on her feet.

"Lord Sesshomaru is just upset." She promised her weakly, "He won't let you go though, so you don't worry, I'll talk to him-" the child continued, giving me well-meaning yet rather empty words of reassurance.

It was clear he wanted me and Rin to return on our own with Ah-un. I pulled myself onto Ah-un's saddle weakly, before pulling Rin up as well.

Her heart and mind were still racing as they leaped into the night sky. The standoff with the daiyokai had sent her human body reeling with fear. But her ayakashi mind had felt it differently. The burn of his gaze, the way his aura had encased her threateningly, her ayakashi mind had felt it at its core. It had been just as powerful, yet not daunting. It was something else that has stunned her into silence, something else entirely. For her ayakashi mind, it was arousing.

---------

I can't wait to make it a smut already, but we need more plot. T8T

#sesshomaru #reader x sesshomaru #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha #anti sessrin #lord sesshoumaru #sesshomaru x reader

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sweatandwoe · 2 years

Note

can we get silco and reader but silco maybe losing reader? realizing he fucked up? idk just something angsty but maybe a fluffy end?

Part 2 to yesterday's Drabble

Silco x GN!Reader Warnings: Angst, Silco growing a brain, Fluff, suggestive

The silence is chilling.

It has remained silent for two weeks. Surprisingly, easy to return to your old job, working under Sevika. Leading missions. If you were a little more reckless, who cared?

You knew he didn’t.

Not once had he asked for you, sought you out since it had happened. No, he had holed himself up in his office and said nothing. His silence deafening in your ears and filling your blood with fire.

A fire that had probably been the reason you were sitting at a booth, Ran beside you as they stitched up your arm. Too angry to notice you had been sliced until halfway home. “You should’ve gone to Singed, I’m shit with a needle.”

“He went to collect his medicine today.” You hate that you can remember that, so easily. Not even having to think about it. You had remembered.

There’s a sigh behind you before you hiss through your teeth at a tight stitch. “Sorry. You really can’t avoid him forever.”

“I’ll avoid him as long as he’s avoiding me.”

That gave a pause, another pierce of the needle. “One of you has to confront it. Or are you going to continue working here?”

A fair point, one you answered by your own angry silence. It shouldn’t have to be you. He should be the one to come to you, to say something. Anything. Instead, you were left hung out to dry, and now saving up to buy a ticket to Ionia. Mercenary work was popular over there right now.

You’d be alright. In time. Once you were away from everyone, it would be easier to forget.

Silco you should be alright too. A hatred was growing for the small pit in your stomach that worried for him.

You really needed to get that ticket to Ionia.

The Last Drop door opens, and your heart stops in your chest when you glance up. Silco’s gaze meets your own, frozen for a moment. Standing at the door, an hour earlier than he usually was. Box of vials in one hand and… flowers were in his other one.

Why did he have flowers?

Why was he handing the box to Sevika?

Why the fuck was he making a bee-line to you?

Apparently Ran knew to get the fuck out of dodge, apologizing quickly for leaving you half stitched and ducking out of the booth before Silco could give them a glance. The second he enters the space, flowers are thrown onto the table before he drags the curtain close.

Then you’re both left just staring at each other. His gaze moved along your face, before flicking down to your arm. “They left the job half-finished, I see.”

Now it’s your turn to be quiet; not even sure what to say, you just nod your head. A severe urge to look away from him rises, but when his gaze returns to your own, something pulls you to keep looking. Until he moves away and breaks it.

The coat is removed and placed next to the flowers on the table. Without any preamble, he slides into Ran’s old spot and sits to work.

“How did you get this?”

You swallow, gaze flickering over the curtain. A blink, and he’s still working far more carefully than Ran had. It barely hurts as he stitches you with someone who has the knowledge of doing this a thousand times before. “Got into a fight. Dustin got a worse one.”

A hum of acknowledgement, and you don’t need to see him to know his tongue is working in his cheek before he speaks. “It’s been quiet.” Without you here.

He still won’t say it, and it gets you to start to turn. “Silco-”

“Wait.” His tone is pleading and stops your own more angry one in its tracks because you’ve never heard him say anything in that tone before. Silco does not plead.

At least you’ve never seen it before.

The stitches finish and the supplies are set down before he turns you slowly. The Eye of Zaun looks panicked. Pale again, lips parting. It takes a moment, his lips twitching and cheeks finally gaining some color. “I am… bad at this.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t be cheeky.” His tongue clicks before he grabs the flowers off of the table. He held them for a few seconds before all but shoving them towards you, speaking as you blink into petals. “I have realized I may have not been clear with my feelings. Or intentions.”

“Intentions?” The flowers slip into your fingers, and you can’t stop a small flutter in your heart over the fact he had gotten you flowers.

“Yes.” Fingers curl under your chin, drawing your gaze back to him. He swallows, and it’s almost like he can’t hold your gaze now. Nervous like a teenager rather than a middle-aged man. “I don’t wish to lose you. I want you by my side.” The fingers move up to cup your cheek. “As my partner.”

You already know he doesn’t mean business partner, but still, you can’t stop the slight tremble in your bottom lip. “That means you do want me? Not just for-”

“Yes.” And then he’s pulling you to him until your head is tucked under his chin. Arms holding you to him. “I care about you. Quite a bit.” His voice is quiet, just for your ears, but it’s enough. “I like it when you play with my hair. When you kiss me good morning and goodnight. I like waking up to you and having you here. With me.”

The apology is nonexistent. But, the admittance covers most of it and more. Enough to melt away the anger in your heart, for now.

For now, you press your face into his neck and he seems to relax. You press a small kiss to his neck. “I care about you too.” You admit, far more easily than he could. Arms move lower, holding you loosely around your hips, as you press another kiss to his jaw.

“Let me make it up to you. I owe you that much.” And then he starts, trying to set things right. “A dinner to Laurent’s, I think to start. Along with a new outfit, on my dime. Maybe a full day of shopping? Whatever you want to get-”

Lips placed onto his own get him to quiet down. A smile grows on your mouth, as you gaze up at him through your eyelashes, pulling your mouth away and enjoying the way he attempts to chase after it. “I’m sure you can make it up to me later? I have some ideas but they’re,” you tap your fingers along his shoulder before bringing your hands around them. ”Private ideas.”

That earned you a far more confident smirk, as the hands on your hips yank you forward, while you laugh quietly. One he returns, with a gentle shake of his shoulders, his tone sounding more joyful than you had ever heard.

“I’m all ears, Darling.”

Requested Tags:

@htmlbitxh @dilfcoworshipper

#silco x reader #silco #arcane #daily drabble arcane

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factorialsotherfandoms · 7 months

Text

It's 4am when Pac wakes up, covered in sweat and heart in his throat from somethine he barely remembers. The green and yellow chairs remain blatantly empty, and he cannot convince himself that Mike is simply asleep in his room at the lab.

Pac built them a home to escape the loneliness of the Chume Labs, but it has chased him and tracked him down even so.

Slowly the panic fades, and other sensations filter in. Pac is getting too old for sleeping in chairs, no matter how comfortable this one looks; his neck and back and legs all sieze in protest as he tries to move them, and it takes a moment to tease himself onto his feet.

A warm drink might help. He doesn't have a set up in the warehouse, but he does have a brewing stand just downstairs.

Half asleep he just about remembers to rinse it before reaching out his hand to take the milk from-

To go get the milk and hot chocolate powder; there is nobody else here.

On habit he adds ingredients for two cups, before remembering Richarlyson and adding a third, and then remembering he is alone and snatching it away. The green mug is already too close to done to save the ingredients, but the yellow is still close enough to cold milk to shove back in the fridge.

He tosses the contents of the green mug into a flower pot, and starts washing it out. Mike will be sad if he comes home to a rotten mug. Pac's hands shake as he cleans it. He does not trust himself to not drop it, so he leaves it on the side to put away when its daylight.

By now his own mug is ready. He does not care for his things like he cares for Richarlyson and Mike's; he takes the boiling hot chocolate mug one shaking hand, and scrambles back up the ladder.

He sits, and he drinks, and he stares at the empty spot before him. Mike has been gone for so long now; Pac was never kidnapped for this long. If their places were reversed, Mike would have saved him already, would have beaten down the doors of hell to get him back.

But here is Pac, just sitting here, with a missing friend and a missing son and all he can do is drink hot chocolate.

Cry into hot chocolate.

Is there really any difference any more?

… Mike would not want Pac to think like this, he would want Pac to stay safe and leave him to figure it out himself, but Mike is not here, and Pac is alone, and how can he do anything but spiral when everything is falling apart?

He wants to throw himself into the hole and drown himself in the inch of water Mike vanished into.

He wants to sleep forever.

He wants the Cucurucho pills back.

It is that though that spurs him to action. The mug is placed, half empty, on the small table, and Pac drags up his communicator's map. Cellbit had said any time - even if he were asleep wake him up - but Cellbit and Roier are in their bedroom together, and, for all they are both family, Pac wants no part in that.

Who else… Fit must have removed himself from the display before sleeping, Forever might be a bad plan if he's craving the drugs… Felps is, to Pac's surprise, awake. Moving slowly around his square.

It does not take Pac more than a second to grab his warpstone and drag himself there.

It is only when he lays eyes on Felps, and Felps on him, that he realises the sight he must make - tearstained, in Mike's pyjamas, nothing but his warpstone in hand.

He sees Felps go to say something, pause, and start again.

"Rough night?" Felps asks, instead of whatever he had meant to say.

Pac does his best to smile back, "rough month." Felps nods knowingly, looking tired himself, and tosses him a pickaxe, "either pull up a chair or get digging."

Pac considers a moment, then plunges the pick into the stone. Once, twice, again.

There is no room to think as his body moves, tension being plunhed into the rock and away from his soul. Again, again, again, call the rock Cucurucho, hiss at it for taking his friends, shatter everything that keeps tearing his family apart…

Have family beside him, who was gone and is back, just as Mike is gone and will be back.

The stress fades into tears and then into nothing at all. Just the plink, plink, plink of diamond on stone.

They mine in silence for a while longer, until the diamond pick in Pac's hands grows brittle, and Felps leans back to wipe the sweat off his brow.

"It helps, doesn't it?" Felps' voice is very quiet, yet very loud in the silence, something distant in his expression.

It is now 6am, and it is beginning to dawn. Felps, Pac can see now, looks haunted too.

Pac does not answer; he takes Felps' hand and leans against his head against his shoulder.

Felps squeezes the hand.

Pac squeezes back.

"We should sleep," Pac whispers.

"Can you?"

"… Not alone."

Felps' head shifts to rest on Pac's, "come shower before heading home?"

Pac understands the meaning clear as day, for his own soul sings the same song - don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me.

"Okay," he closes his eyes for a moment. "Okay."

"We're okay."

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp felps #qsmp tazercraft #Felps also had trauma dreams because I need more Felps content in my life but also haven't had enough to write him good #hurt/comfort #hot chocolate #why does pac keep reaching for it in my fic I guess its because its the only non-tea comfort warm drink in my brain #... you might also get fitfic later but my finger is blistering oops

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haellen-o · 8 months

Text

FFXIV Write Prompt #1: Envoy

(figured i'd take part in this after some convincing. though its only unofficially, no 24 hour time limit and no sticking to any orders. Just whatever tickles my fancy and what prompts i like)

“To walk a land bereft of world ending danger…” Halcyon smiled softly, holding an elps flower in their hand “Tis an odd feeling after such a long time” They spun the flower slowly, examining it… Who knew such a small thing could’ve been so important to the survival of the very star itself

They stood there for a time, listening to the crashing waves against the rocks, the sound of birds. And the quiet chatter of sharlayan… A gentle smile crept across halcyons face “If only you could’ve seen the beauty of this world, maybe things would have been different?” They mused idly to themself

“I was wondering where you were” a familiar voice called out from behind

“Ah, Y’shtola” Halcyon turned with a gentle smile “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was merely curious where the hero of the star had gone after their battle, most would be celebrating” Y’shtola joined halcyon on the edge of the cliff. Enjoying the sounds

“I came to think, to contemplate… To unwind” They responded “It's not everyday you summon your best friend and the man you would’ve wanted to be your boyfriend from beyond the grave to help deal with an existence ending threat” A short laugh escaped, followed by a deep sigh “It's not everyday you realise you’re truly the last of your kind” They said with a solemn tone

Y’shtola had no idea how to really comfort that… How do you comfort a being far older than you who is the last of their kind?, still. Y’shtola placed a comforting hand on halcyon's shoulder “Try not to bear that weight alone will you? I can’t ever begin to understand how you feel. But you’ve got friends who are willing to help you whenever they can”

Halcyon smiled, a gentle warmth filling their body “Thank you” They responded simply, returning their gaze to the ocean as the two stood there for a moment in silence

“What will you do now?” Y’shtola asked

“Well… My duty I suppose” Halcyon laughed “i am the Fourteenth seat of the Convocation of Fourteen. Shepard to the stars, it is my duty to travel the world and know its cultures and people. While my kin and fellow members of the convocation may be gone, I still remain to walk the lands. As azem has always done” Halcyon paused, face twisting in thought “No… Shepard to the stars is too forward, it sets a bad precedent…”

“For the warrior of light? I don’t believe anyone could argue your title” Y’shtola laughed

“My deeds go far and wide, tis true. But there are corners of this world where my deeds have not yet reached, my words yet touched” They let out a small grumble of thought, bringing their hand up to cup their chin between finger and thumb “Something to get one’s head around i suppose”

Y’shtola chuckled slightly again and shook her head “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually. You have a way of managing that even when it comes to the most obscure of thoughts. I shall leave you to think” Y’shtola bowed her head and began to walk away

“Y’shtola?” Halcyon called out, glancing back

“Yes?”

“Apologies for earlier, my wounds were deep and no healing magic you could conjure would heal them” Halcyon said simply

Y’shtola shook her head “Think nothing of it. I’m glad you’re okay at the very least. A temporary discomfort outweighs your survival. I believe” Y’shtola smiled softly “If you need me. I’ll be with the others. An envoy from the new world arrived and i’m curious what business they have in sharlayan” With that y’shtola continued walking away

“Envoy…” Halcyon mumbled, eyes widening “That’s brilliant!. Envoy…” They mumbled to themself, the fog cleared and the thoughts were finally crystal clear “Halcyon. The world walker. Last of their kind. Envoy of the sundered world…” Halcyon looked out to the ocean, holding their hand out and letting the wind carry the elpis flower away “Yes. That will do quite nicely i think” Halcyon put their hands behind their back with a triumphant smile

The wind blew gently, carrying the scent of grass and ocean far past them… It was time to enjoy this new world and truly discover what it had to offer, to meet new people and break bread again. No longer obsessed with stopping the evil that lurked in the shadows… Though maybe one more adventure wouldn’t hurt “What would you think of this world had you the chance to explore it. My old friends?” They mumbled idly again, thinking of the past once more…

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #halcyon #my azem #my writing #writing prompt #not gonna tag this with XIV write #since i'm not taking full part in it #endwalker spoilers

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your-local-grubdog · 11 months

Text

Together in the Storm Chapter 13: What Cetacea Saw

Story Summary: Olimar is back home once again, ready to rest and recuperate from everything that had happened. Yet the universe keeps throwing unwanted surprises his way, making rest difficult. He just wants to make his (now rather large) family believe that he’ll be okay. Because he is, for he has to be.

Story ratings: No archive warnings apply, Teen and Up Audiences, and General/Non-Ship Focused

Chapter Summary: Cetacea tells Olimar about some data that it has been decoding.

Sorry for another short chapter, I just didn't need something longer to get this idea across. The next few chapters are also shorter for similar reasons, but the end is also coming up so they should lengthen out again for it!

Read on Ao3 here!

===

"Captain Olimar?"

"Yes, Cetacea?"

"... I don't mean to alarm you but, uh, could you perhaps close the door...?"

Olimar was sitting in his office at home, getting ready for when he would soon have to return to work. He wasn't... Thrilled by the update, to say the least, but he had no choice in the matter unfortunately. He'd still have to go back to work despite the aching protests of his still healing body. He was uncertain about why Cetacea would want the office door shut, but he nervously stood and closed it as requested. He then turned to the little hub on his desk.

"Okay, what is it?"

"It's about when I was offline. See, we ships have a feature meant to help us still collect data even when ruined as my hull was. It's intended to catch acts of vandalism and space pirates."

That made Olimar raise an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall. "So, you could still "see" and "hear" even then? Were you still... a-aware?"

"To answer your second question: no. These emergency systems run on the bare minimum necessities. So I was not aware that I was off until I was turned back on again. Though, even if I was, I wouldn't be in any sort of pain."

Olimar looked away then. "I - I know but... s-still."

"Sir, please do not worry. We cannot feel pain, or abandonment, or anything else for that matter. We are merely complex AI, not truly self-aware people."

The captain only made a weird sound of discontent at that.

With a sigh, the ship's AI continued; "The catch to this system is that the data takes a while to decode. I've been back online for twelve days already, and have only now been able to access this information. And what I saw was..." it then trailed off, pausing for a few moments, before finishing with "You may want to sit down for this."

That made Olimar's ears pin back as he slowly walked around his desk and sat back in his chair. "W-What happened, was it bad?"

Cetacea remained quiet for perhaps too long before responding with "I think so, but I'm uncertain."

Olimar took in a shaky breath, willing himself calm. "O-Okay. What is it?"

"Well..."

===

It was a rainy day in the Garden of Hope, Cetacea's old hull laying broken in the mud, its parts whirling away weakly. The area had recently been picked clean of fruits by the Koppaite crew, and as such neither they nor the pikmin were to be found here.

Something else, however, was here, picking over the ruins of its old home.

The wraith was fairly small, actually, and dusty purple in color. A long hole stretched down its back, not unlike the one the Plasm Wraith had. It seemed to sing to itself as it looked over the remains of the mireclops, soon plucking the various flowers growing on its corpse. It seemed at peace, almost enjoying itself as it continued to cradle flowers in one of its four arms.

The peace wasn't to last for long, however.

A second wraith soon slithered in, a long snake-like tail present where its legs should have been. It was larger, clear crystal in color, and had horn-like protrusions on its head. Upon seeing the smaller wraith, it let out a loud screech, an indescribable yet distinctly unholy sound. The purple one dropped its flowers, soon screeching in return. The two wraiths slowly circled each other, a low rumble emitting from each. They seemed to just stare and growl at each other for the longest time.

Then, in a swift move, one of the clear wraith's arms crystalized as it dashed towards the other. The small purple one dodged with ease, a cloud of spores soon surrounding it. The clear one, however, was unaffected by it. As it began to seemingly laugh, the purple one turned to flee. The clear one grabbed it, crystalizing its arms again to gain a better grip, before slamming it against the ground. Before the purple wraith could recover, the clear one morphed its crystal arm to have a clawed hand with which it stabbed into the purple one with. The smaller wraith let out an agonized screech as the horned one ripped out a dusty purple cube from within it. It then used its new claws to penetrate the cube, black goop spilling out of the fresh wounds. Soon after that, the purple wraith went still, then melted into a small puddle on the ground.

The crystal casing around the clear wraith's arm vanished then, a tendril wrapped around the purple cube. The wraith then absorbed the cube, which slowly dissolved away within the wraith. After a few moments, the clear wraith let out a cloud of spores for no discernible reason.

Seemingly happy with itself now, the wraith left.

===

Olimar was left frozen after Cetacea finished its story. It took the captain a long time to say anything at all as he stared blankly at the wall. Eventually, he shakily started with "S-S-So there... There's more wr... W-wraiths..."

"Affirmative, captain."

"And they... They kill each other."

"I am not sure what the motivation was. If it was predation, or a territorial dispute, or something else. But yes, they can and do seem to kill each other."

Olimar was quiet for a few more moments before shakily asking "And when they do, they.... They gain the others' powers."

"That appears to be the case. The spores were identical to each other as far as I could tell."

"Is that why they kill, then? For power?" He asked. The wraiths were, as far as he could tell, just like people. But they also weren't, they didn't act quite right. Like a Hocotation infected with rabies. Even that, however, didn't feel like an apt description. Regardless, killing for the sake of power sounded like something they were capable of.

"... I can add that to the list of theories." Was Cetacea's eventual reply. "We have no proof of anything thus far."

Olimar merely nodded in response, lost in his own thoughts. Then, in a quiet voice, he asked "So how many wraiths did the Plasm Wraith kill?"

Cetacea didn't answer that question.

"It had so many abilities. Fire, water, crystal, electricity, illusions... At least four others killed, then, more if I'm unaware of other abilities it may have..."

And it has captured him. Kept him. Cared for him. Hurt him. Worried over him. Nearly killed him.

The two didn't exchange any more words, both merely silent as Olimar's head reeled with countless possibilities and worries.

But now, he found himself hung up on one question.

What was the Plasm Wraith's original ability?

#pikmin #fan fiction #pikmin fan fiction #star touched au #pikmin star touched #captain olimar #borb writes #borb draws

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cuckoo-among-beasts · 6 months

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HC: Eating Problems

This post contains a mix of disordered eating, though mainly of the 'not enough' kind. This hc is based on things I've noticed that I recognise in myself mixed with ancient male beauty ideals. This is not something that will be directly mentioned in threads (other than him sometimes skipping meals and similar) unless agreed on or a starter for the topic has been liked or a meme with it sent. However, would you like to incorporate it in our threads, you are welcome to do so.

Huaisang has always loved beautiful things and this includes himself. From being called cute as small child, to being call pretty as a teen and beautiful as an adult. Being naturally smaller and slender in built than the average Nie, and with rounder, softer features, he knew he fell into the second of the two male beauty ideal: dainty and elegant (the other being strong and fit).

This on its own isn't bad, but Huaisang, like many other children, was a bit chubby when young. Liking to lounge even as a kid, he also, of course, enjoyed being carried. As he grew, as a healthy kid should, he was jokingly told by others he would soon be too big to get carried. This wasn't anything he took to heart then, but it would remain in his mind. It wasn't until he reached puberty that the less than healthy thoughts began. As he physically matured, he naturally grew slender, his 'baby fat' disappearing and although his features remained soft, he also began appearing more elegant in features. People commented on that and he liked it. He got compared to dainty flowers and fragile pretty birds and he loved it way too much.

That's how he started eating less. A mix of not eating his full meals and sometimes skipping them completely. It was never too bad, but enough to keep him on the skinny side of healthy. Though there were occasions when he did lose a little too much weight, times when he wasn't doing great in general, like during the Wen Indoctrination and the Sunshot Campaign. And later, when his brother died.

It was first after his brothers death though, that things ended up going bad and he just didn't eat at all, or just barely, for some time. It required intervention from er-ge and san-ge for him to eat better again. Though this was out of mourning, and betrayal, rather than wanting to fit a specific ideal. After their intervention, he goes back to his old "regularly skipping meals" thing, but not enough to raise most people's eyebrows, he's good at hiding it. Though looking dainty and fragile becomes even more important with his Headshaker persona.

It's not until after he's had his revenge that things get worse again. Revenge has been done, but it didn't help with his feelings the way he thought it would and now he's also alone. He has neglected his sect, so he doesn't have much support there, he has no friends and no family. He's alone. Once again, depression is part of his lack of eating, but it's also a sense of familiarity, something that he knows, something that's been there from before things went south and he's clinging to that. Plus, to the world, he is still the Headshaker, even if he intends to change that with time.

#headcanon #tw: eating problems #so it's basically a mix of depression and body issues #in the verse where he's with lianhuaes' wanyin #wanyin will help it will make him less likely to self-destruct

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thedo0zyslider · 1 year

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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep - 1k words

Based off the poem "Do not stand at my grave and weep" by Chole Harner Really just impulsive refection of some empires events

A03 Link

There is fire roaring in the distance, there are cracks spreading through the earth and there are buildings being split in half. The world is ending, as it has ended many times before, and will end again, many times after this. It ends differently each time, sometimes it is quiet, and sometimes it is loud and painful and searing. This time is quite bad, the universe thinks, most people won’t make it far.

In one kingdom, one in the mesa, a palace is ripped in half. Its king has died with it, and the ocean that borders the kingdom is dry. You can see just how far, just how deep into the earth’s crust the ocean truly goes. It is dark, disturbing, and the ocean’s heir left with the waves. The swamp next to it was drained of any liquid as well, dead cod and the occasional salmon flapping in the empty river banks until they died of asphyxiation.

A desert in the west looked no different, save for the new cracks that now littered into the structures of the sandstone buildings, causing houses to collapse in puffs of dust. It was a place that had clearly been abandoned long ago. A structure, one that resembled an ant hill, had been sunken into the ground by the rifts in the earth. One smaller rift led up to an altar, the energy of the sacred place seemingly stopping the destruction before the altar could come to any heal harm. The candles placed on it were on their last legs, now small pieces of melting wax. The flames had gone out with the world.

A flowery kingdom had massive cracks fracturing it, and the last remaining pop of color was a flower, one that radiated an aura of magic. No one was here to feel the aura though, the plant's efforts to simply live being rendered futile. A kingdom of mushrooms and its neighbor, a settlement deep in the jungle, were being eaten by flames, the heat all consuming as it ate away at whatever life used to exist there. An old campfire deeper into the jungle, yet outside the jungle kingdoms’ reaches, burnt out slowly.

The mountain kingdoms were either burning as well, or covered in nasty red vines. The burning one, the one made of amethyst, looked the best of all the kingdoms, having only small fires and debris on the floor. Yet the dragons who once lived in the land had abandoned it with its people, leaving the amethyst to sit and lose it shimmer. The kingdom covered in vines was far worse for ware, the red, evil looking plants having eaten away at the snowy settlement. The plants had an opposite aura to the one in the flower kingdom, sinister and thriving in spite, or simply because of, the destruction. Though at one point they had stopped by a statue of a stag. They had stopped in other places, and the owner was presumably dead, indicated by how the vines were starting to shrivel up and dissipate like holy water had been poured on them. A bloody sword, the thing that stopped the vines, lay unseen to the world, its user in a better place. Hopefully.

A plain’s land was destroyed in full, the kingdom that used to lay there reduced to almost nothing but ashes. This is where the end of the world had started, and it certainly looked the part. A pair of inventors' goggles survived, somehow, despite being in the center of the blast. The item felt important, but there were no people here to explain, and the earth certainly could not tell you why.

A kingdom across the small stretch of civilized land was overrun with sheep, their coats the crimson color of blood. They belated unhappily, and the buildings seemed to crumble and shake in the wake of the horde’s wrath. That’s right, a horde. There were far too many sheep to be called a simple herd. They were mostly concentrated around an old, exploded summoning circle, the thing that had presumably brought them there.

The reason for said summoning circle’s destruction was not far off, it was a kingdom with a beanstalk rising from the center. A burning kingdom, where the fire had eaten the magic, and its ruler with it.

“Do not stand by my grave and weep”

At the top of the beanstalk, in a small building off the side of the plant, there lies a pile of ashes. Ashes that seemed to have come about by withering, something, or someone being withered away into nothing more than black specs. Items laid around the ashes, items of a dead woman. Items that would soon despawn, just like their owner had not too long ago.

“I am not there, I do not sleep”

A strangely colored goose sits in a hole, a hole meant to protect it from the raging destruction above, as the bird appeared to be flightless. The goose was yellow, and the one thing in the kingdom that held any semblance of magic still. The hole was probably going to suffocate the goose if anything, especially if it kept calling and calling for its owner, wasting precious oxygen. The poor bird was unaware that its owner would not come, could not come to retrieve it ever again.

The world is over.

“Do not stand by my grave and cry”

There are murals built for a goddess once new civillations start to arrive. Her kingdom is long forgotten, her people are long gone. The only thing the remains of that golden goose’s owner is her name, translated across lord knows how many languages. No one knows how she came to be a goddess, or why she is worshiped, she just simply is.

It is a fact that as accepted as natural, as normal, just as the seasons are in the new world. She is gone, she is their god, and her name is etched into the history of many civilizations over the years.

She is a god. Their god, the peoples god. The god of harvest, the god of war, the god of sunflowers, god of the sun. She has many names over the centuries, yet the motifs of sunflowers stay, even when she is considered a god of war and battles and blood, she has the same flowers in her murals to contrast.

“I am not there”

A man stands in front of a tapestry, one old, faded and torn. It shows a woman with light hair, her eyes are closed and her hands folded as if she were praying. She is surrounded by sunflowers, stalks of wheat, and what seems to be a beanstalk is blurred into the background, with large yellow birds around its base. It is unknown who she could be praying too, as the woman depicted is most likely a goddess herself. Maybe she is praying to the gods that are long gone, the one a certain sky god scarcely mentions, and when he does he’s quiet, uncharacteristically so, almost somber, like he’s mourning old friends he can barely recall. The man would know, he’s very personal with said sky god.

The woman is very familiar to the man, just as he is to her. His face has stayed the same, unchanging for centuries. His hair is no longer gray now, brown once more with the life granted from reincarnation. He has the same scar over his eye every version of him has, always gained in a different way. Sometimes the way the scar happens is so deeply traumatic he cannot speak of it, other times it becomes a fun story to tell at parties. It is one of the few things that never stay consistent in his many lives. This time the cause is more on the traumatic side, unfortunately. This version of him cannot be free of hardship, it seems.

More hardship will come to him sooner rather than later, and it will be relentless until this world too ends, just as the goddess’s did all those lifetimes ago. For now though he remembers nothing of that, and the beloved goddess herself is only a vague feeling of familiarity in his brain. One that makes him want to cry, yet also fills him with calm, both for reasons he cannot recall. He’ll remember soon enough, in due time.

He’ll remember when a strange portal opens to another place, bringing newcomers with it. He will meet her again, not the same lady that has been painted before him now, but similar. A different life of hers, a different version of her, yet she is still the same deep down. She too will hold an unexplained fondness for sunflowers.

But for now he will sit here and wonder why this ancient empire he is in worshiped her, why his home worshiped her, and why that sky god has made a temple in her honor. He will wonder what she did, who she was, what happened to deserve this level of remembrance, in a world where history is poorly persevered and their predecessors forgotten to the winds.

Unbeknownst to the man there is a shining, golden crown of old behind the tapestry of the goddess. Twelve gems are placed onto the piece of jewelry, and most have lost their once vibrant colors. This item will not be found till later, when he has remembered. If he saw it now the pain might be too unbearable, so maybe it is best the crown lies hidden for the next little while. It is the crown that ended the world after all, her world, his world.

There is something etched into the stone under the tapestry, lovingly craved by some long dead follower of the goddess. Interestingly enough the first part is not in english, and the man wonders if the follower was like him in that regard, and who exactly used to live in this old, decaying city capital. It makes him wonder who’s buried in the tombs around him. Marde de Girasoles. The carving reads, it seems to be a blessing of some sort. Grant their next life a bountiful harvest.

Marde de Girasoles. It means mother of sunflowers, and the man finds that quite fitting for the woman in front of him. He smiles lightly at the tapestry, giving it one last look, a look full of a lot of emotions. He feels love, sadness, grief, longing, and joy wash over him all at once. A strange combination of emotions, not pleasant either, and one that he wouldn’t mind never feeling again. He leaves the artwork to its secret cavern, walking out of the passageway to it, the passage marked by a wither rose, of all plants. Though he did emerge into a tomb, so maybe it was appropriate.

He goes home and plants sunflowers in his empire. He builds her a church. Her name is Santa Perla, the Mother of Sunflowers.

“I did not die”

#ron.writing #ron.fic #pearlecentmoon #mythical sausage #empires smp #empires season one #empires season 1 #arena duo #empires fic #empiresblr

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hongkongartman-mlee · 7 months

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His Success Is The Result Of Perfection Is Hard Work For Almost A Century—The 96-Year-Old Master Wong Kai (黃佳) Who Made Dance Lions In Hong Kong, The Only Remaining Of The Great

The like-minded great artists and artisans are always alone.

‘Artists’ focus on creating works pleasing his spiritual desire while the work of ‘artisans’ focuses on accessorizing and functionality in order to satisfy the needs of a customer. The work of artists and artisans can both show aesthetics but the style of an artist is more individualistic and thus artificially cherished. The artists exhibit their work in museums or galleries. Artisans often sell their crafts at fairs and shops, and they welcome commercial order in large quantities.

What does it mean to commission art? ‘Commissioning art’ is when a client hires an artist to create an artwork based on his request. Hotels like to commission an artist to do decorative art prints for rooms. When an artist is too eager to do commissioning art, he is no different from an artisan.

Some artisans refuse to produce works without passion and just to fulfill a need. They have artistry in their souls and their visions are artistic. For that, a great artisan may be better than an unremarkable artist, and for that, let us salute our city’s 96-year-old extraordinary artisan Master Wong Kai (黃佳) who has been making ‘lions’ for lion dances since 1940s. The lion dance is usually performed during traditional, cultural and religious festivals. It may also be performed on important occasions such as business opening events, special celebrations and wedding ceremonies.

The Chinese lion dance is usually operated by 2 kung fu dancers, one of whom manipulates the head while the other moves the rear end of the lion. Chinese lion dance fundamental movements are a kind of Chinese marital arts and the movements take place to a vigorous beat with drum, gong and cymbal.

The crux of success of a lion dance is whether the ‘lion’ looks like a real lion? There are northern and southern ‘lions’. The appearance of the lion artifact does matter. Does the lion head look pretty? Is its hair soft and tactile? Are its eyes sharp and brave? Are the ornaments and patterns unique and eye-catching? Is the body graceful and regal, with flowing manes and a delicate tail?

Master Wong Kai is small, slim, healthy but a bit feeble. He thinks sharply and a walking cane is always next to him. He did not look like 96 years old. Money is irrelevant to him. A kind factory owner gave to him some corridor space so that he can continue his artisan career. Master Wong smiled, “When I don’t eat or sleep, I work. I only work for customers who appreciate my art.”

He recollected, “I was born in Canton (the present name is Guangzhou). When I was a kid in the 1940s, I was a helper in my father’s flower farm. Soon, World War II took place and we fled to Shek Tong Tsui (石塘咀) of Hong Kong. Dad took me to temple fairs and I participated in lion dances. I was greatly fascinated by the lion artifact and decided to be an artisan. I made dance lions and dance dragons. In the 1950s, I made even small dance snakes, fishes and prawns around the dragon when festival celebrations were grand in those years. Now, all such dances are small-scale. Young people look down on traditional cultures.”

Master Wong sighed, “I have been looking for an apprentice or successor for more than 60 years but people just came and left. It requires at least 15 to 20 years, through practice and experience, to acquire the artisan skills of making a dance lion. As income is bad but the time and effort to be spent are out of proportion, young people would prefer being a factory or office worker.”

I asked, “Master, I was told that a dance lion consists of 13 parts. Could you briefly tell me what they are?” Master Wong took a sip of puerh tea and explained, “A remarkable dance lion can be revealed on the craftsmanship, such as (1) forehead painted with unique patterns, (2) particular face colour patterns representing a certain historical hero, (3) rustproof and reflective mirror placed on forehead, (4) silky smooth pompoms, (5) firm and unturned nose,(6) graceful ‘buddha’ or ‘crane’ mouth, (7) bold and perky horn, (8) movable and cute ears, (9) hair that is made from good rabbit hair, (10) a pair of blinking eyes, (11) shining molded teeth, (12) beard made of horse tail hair and (13) top grade fabrics for the lion body.”

Master is proud of himself and said, “Apart from the aesthetic sense, my success depends of course, on my craftsmanship and also one important thing—the availability of great materials. Unfortunately, we now live in a world of relying on fast, cheap, ready and factory-made supplies. Let me give you a few examples. It is not easy any more to find fine horse tail hair. How can I afford 100% silk for the pompom? Where can I find animal teeth to fabricate those of a dance lion? Good old days are gone. Modern people just want more and more, and in a speedy way. They have no interest in or patience with nice old things.”

I was silent. Master Wong’s friend Sam Tam (譚定邦) who arranged this great interview added, “I am a kung fu master. I am also sad to see the gradual loss of Chinese traditions and cultures in Hong Kong. The city is moving too fast and relentlessly. Mass production replaces highly skilled artisans with a large number of sub-divided unskilled jobs with lower wages for workers in a factory environment.”

Master replied, “In Mainland China, they now use big factories to manufacture dance lions and dragons. They use low-quality and inexpensive materials such as yuanbao paper (元寶紙), plastics and nylon strings. Hand painting is no longer necessary and replaced by those printing machines.”

I was silent for a while again. I said, “Industrialization imposes its harsh rhythm onto humans. Operating it, we also move mechanically and un-spiritually, and become part of the machine.”

Master Wong drew a deep breath and said, “Be it as it may. I am Wong Kai. I insist on my own ways. I can die at any moment but I insist on working as an artisan with artistic determination and ambition. I still want to create more dance lions in Hong Kong and tell the future generations what are the best forms, molds, materials and processes for such art pieces. Factories cannot and will not defeat artisans. I work alone on a factory corridor as an artisan every day with no regrets.”

“Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.” I look at the great dance lions created by Master Wong Kai and feel strongly one thing: success is the result of a perfectionist’s attitude—hard work, hard work and hard work!

Maurice Lee

Chinese Version 中文版: https://www.patreon.com/posts/xiang-gang-ru-he-90823886?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_creator&utm_content=join_link

Dance Lion Head Structure Introduction https://www.rthk.hk/chiculture/bamboocraft/c2_structure.htm Acknowledgement-RTHK

Dragon and Lion Dance Culture in Hong Kong https://youtu.be/zZHXM8Z7yOM?si=-B- pYuyMZZmbBNLE Acknowledgement-RTHK

Creation of a Dance Lion https://youtu.be/4J26bJwNIrA?si=z0VbuEHDHntudwOi Acknowledgement-eh

Lion Dance https://youtu.be/JVBxZbEudfM?si=KmGldmDCbusGMoYn Acknowledgement-NewTV

#Wong Kai #Lion Dance

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haurchefants · 1 year

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Coping

Gunji keeps going back to the First, despite having no “real” reason to return.

He was back in this room; sun shining bright through the window he’d left wide open the last time he’d been here. Hopefully someone had the wherewithal to check in on the room to close it whenever it rained, he thought, shrugging his coat off and tossing it across the table.

The table had remained in the same state he’d left it. A kettle full of long neglected water he never quite got around to turning into tea, a notebook left wide open and a pen rolled off to the side. The small bunch of dried red poppies still left strewn across the wooden surface.

An usual flower to go through the process of drying, but it reminded him.

Gunji sat on one of the low stools beside the table and exhaled a breath he’d been holding too long, hands resting on his knees as he glanced around the room.

He had no reason to keep coming back here… There was no particular reason, no job for him to do. Excuses had been made, of course, for why he of all people wanted to have a day to himself. It had become an unintentional habit to visit, and an even more unintentional constant lie to hide it.

There was no reason to lie… so why had it been his immediate reaction the first time someone had asked? And why had he continued every subsequent time since.

They were all innocuous lies, of course; saying he had an errand to run or something inconsequential of the like. Regardless of the fact that he knew it would be an easy lie to call him on. All one of his friends had to do was ask why he hadn’t been answering his linkpearl when he was out. Because, no doubt, he was in a place where the simple connection of the linkpearl would not reach.

Maybe he was worried they’d question why he was there. Not that it was if he was doing anything particularly bad.

Simply… sitting in the room he’d called home for little over a year, staring out the sunlit window. Sometimes, when the light of day was bright enough, it would fill him with a small surge of panic. A tiny rush of fear that the Light had returned, though in his mind he knew that the First was, for the most part, completely fine for the time being.

So there was no reason for him to be here; to return here, time and time again, whenever he had a moment of free time.

He should be back on the Source, not here, sitting in this lifeless room staring out a window to a landscape that wasn’t his.

Sometimes he thought about visiting more than just this room. Perhaps the imitation city at the bottom of the ocean, sure to fade from existence one day now that the creator of the memory was long past. The thought of returning to that place, though, brought a cold chill to him.

The only thing left for him down there was the bitter sense of loss and the crippling sense of self-doubt that came when he reflected on the choices he made when he was there.

Staying, though, he reminded himself, wasn’t an option, and it should never have been a thought he considered for as long as he did.

It was the fluttering of wings that took his attention from the morbid thoughts that had begun to occupy his mind, and Gunji looked up from the fixed spot on the ground he had been staring at. A bird had perched itself on the railing of the flower box that hung from the window.

Bigger than most that you could catch in the Crystarium, but familiar to him. Gray feathers flecked with white, a large, scooped yellow beak, and unusually intense golden eyes peered through the window at him. It shook its head and fluffed out it’s feathers as it settled on the railing.

Standing, Gunji crossed the room to approach the bird, not at all put off by its presence. It was not the first time it had visited. Usually, even, it was already in the room by the time Gunji arrived, as if it always knew when he would be there.

He lifted his hand as the creature watched him intently. It lifted it’s head, a clicking noise coming from its beak, before it dipped it’s head to his hand.The feathers were always softer than he thought they should be, Gunji thought, as he gently ran his fingers over them.

“You know, this is still a pretty weird choice for an incarnation of yourself, you know.” The words were quiet, barely above a whisper, knowing that he’d be heard regardless.

The only response he got was the sound of ruffling feathers and two piercing gold eyes boring into him. As per usual.

It was foolish of Gunji to repeatedly go out of his way to visit the First just for this. A weird bird that visited him whenever he sat in his room in the Pendants. There wasn’t even a guarantee it was what he thought--it probably wasn’t. What were the chances?

And as he said, a weird choice of creature to present yourself as.

Then again, he was a weird man.

The bird made that clicking noise once again and nudged Gunji’s hand to notify him that he’d stopped petting the deeper he got into his thoughts.

Sighing, he absentmindedly scratched along the bird’s chin, watching it finally close its eyes.

“You know, one day, I’m going to stop showing up.”

Silence.

“I don’t even understand how you know when I’m going to be here.”

Gold eyes were open again, simply staring at him.

“I mean it when I say I’m going to stop coming here.”

Stupid, to think that the bird looked like it knew he was lying.

It’s a bird.

Nothing more.

Just a bird.

“I’ll remember you regardless of whether or not you keep coming to see me.”

#ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #oc: gunji #this no longer applies because i redid gunjis lore so that he cant go back to the first #but i still really like it so im posting it

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tteokdoroki · 3 years

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an ode to winter | dabi.

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

♡ word count: 14.1K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

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

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

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

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

♡ masterlist | requests

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

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

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

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

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

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

“miss yn...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

for now at least.

that winter, dabi never came home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mmmamamamaa!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“shit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...touya?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you refuse to break in front of him.

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

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

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

“you should be.”

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

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

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

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

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

“yn, sweetness, i—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that you still wanted him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“g’night, touya.”

“sleep well, babydoll.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

extended ending

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“dada!!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fin.

— TAGLIST:

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

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electric--blanket · 3 years

Text

a place where the heart rests

so, because @thekaiserroll drew fanart of my fanfiction i decided to return the favour by writing a long Wintersberg one-shot based off of her short comic! i hope you enjoy touch-starved Heisenberg.

warnings for death (not for main characters) and some angst.

read on ao3

Mama… I want mama. It hurts.

Where’s mama?

Karl Heisenberg always suffered from nightmares. Even before he was taken in by Mother Miranda — as a child, Heisenberg often experienced night terrors that had him screaming in his bed. There were distant memories in the back of his mind, where he’d wake from a terrible dream that had him screaming for his mother — and she’d always come to his side. In that terribly large, cold estate that Heisenberg once called home, it always felt so lonely. But, his mother always eased his fears; with her silk nightgown and the distinct smell of expensive soap. Her soft fingers would comb through Heisenberg’s locks of ashen brown hair, hushing him in a soft tone of voice — a voice he could no longer remember.

During the experiments, it was the only thing Heisenberg begged for when he felt the cadou infesting his body. It felt like a worm wriggling around in the wet soil during a storm, curling and writhing through his organs. He screamed for his mother, wishing she would save him from the pain and take him home again. A seventeen-year-old boy screaming for his mother to come and save him looked utterly pathetic from Mother Miranda’s perspective, and the feeling of fear only intensified when she stroked Heisenberg’s hair whilst he screamed. A soft whisper that uttered, “I’m your mother now, child.” It made Heisenberg nearly vomit.

That was the last time someone had ever touched him so tenderly. He’d not felt a loving touch since then and ducked away from Miranda’s so-called ‘motherly’ touches.

At first, Heisenberg coped with the intense trauma of his bodily changes by taking it in stride and calling his newfound power of magnetism a ‘gift’. He knew deep down it was the opposite: it stopped him from ageing, rendered him infertile and stripped away his dignity by becoming a slave to Miranda. It took a long time for Heisenberg to fully process what had happened to him. His father had left him in the clutches of a madwoman, and his life only got worse from there.

In a fit of rage — perhaps at the age of twenty-nine — he revisited his parent's estate to confront the man he could no longer call ‘father’. He had aged since Heisenberg last saw him, but those steel eyes he’d inherited were still as hard as ever. His mother lingered in a doorway just down the hall, but she didn’t dare come to greet her son as he snapped with a short, interrupted breath. Heisenberg had grabbed his father by the neck and pinned him to the nearest wall, knocking down a beautiful oil painting his mother adored. His fingers didn’t seem to stop, squeezing on the skin and bone until he felt a sickening crack vibrate beneath his fingers.

Heisenberg hadn’t meant it, not really. It was as if a demon had taken control of his body and sought revenge that barely mattered anymore. He didn’t realise what he’d done until he heard the sound of his mother screaming; distraught and fearful of her own son that she’d once coddled so long ago.

That was the last time Heisenberg saw his mother and father. The estate was quickly abandoned not long after, and from what he knew, his mother took her belongings and moved to Austria with some distant relatives. That large house teased Heisenberg every fucking day, with how it towered near the factory grounds and reminded him of what he’d done. Arson wasn’t exactly on his bucket list, but Heisenberg couldn’t resist taking a match to the place and watching it burn. Whatever childhood remained in that house was left in a pile of ashes, and he never looked upon it ever again. All of the silly dreams and hopes he’d had for his life were gone.

That was until Ethan Winters showed up. Nearly a hundred years later, Heisenberg felt something he’d sought after for so long — hope.

“Karl? Karl—!”

Mama. I want mama. Everything hurts.

Heisenberg forced his eyes open. It felt like his life was replaying in front of him whilst he was passed out; like watching an old film reel repeating itself and becoming more distorted each time. Up until that very night, Heisenberg’s life had been a series of traumatic events and unforgivable actions.

That night, he’d turned it all around just by laying his eyes on Ethan Winters. A man so incredible, resilient and insane… He’d do anything to get his little girl back. It was the man Heisenberg had oh-so wanted his father to be, and he admired that about Ethan. He’d never been so good at expressing his emotions honestly, or even laying out his ideas in a proper fashion to others… Oh, but Ethan was special. He’d shown Heisenberg patience that he’d not been offered before and decided to join him at his side to kill Miranda. Together.

“Karl… Fuck— Don’t die on me, asshole.”

Ethan… Ethan…

Above the metal remnants of what his mutated body had used as a shell, he could hear Ethan pushing the scrap aside to try and find Heisenberg buried beneath it. He could also hear the distinct cries of a distressed baby, something that brought him back to Earth. Heisenberg reached up through the metal until his bare, calloused fingers brushed up against Ethan’s soft knuckles. There was a moment of silence when their skin touched, but Ethan didn’t waste any time in grabbing Heisenberg’s hand and pulling him out.

The moment the pressure around his body ceased, Heisenberg felt the telltale feeling of sickening warmth seeping from many wounds across his body. The cadou inside him didn’t react too well to it, trying to cope with the trauma done by squirming and pulsating inside of him. Heisenberg drank in the expression of Ethan’s relieved face for just a moment, only until it warped into one of worry and horror. Heisenberg was weak, and his knees buckled beneath the weight of his torso before he fell back onto the ground.

The baby cupped carefully in one of Ethan’s arms began to cry again as Ethan jostled her accidentally in an attempt to help Heisenberg. A baby crying wasn’t really helping Heisenberg’s already distressed state, but it made him realise just how fucked he was. There was no way they would get away in time together, and Heisenberg was too injured to walk. The cadou might have helped to some degree, but it didn’t ease the burning pain in his body, and the loss of blood that was making him dizzy.

Ethan’s horrified expression was pinned on an appendage from the Megamycete, which rose up from the cave systems like a flower bud in spring, ready to bloom. The small, red flashing light alerted him to the fact that Chris Redfield had succeeded in planting the bomb. They had to leave.

“Go.”

A silence hung in the air for just a moment, and Heisenberg didn’t realise what he’d just said. For the first time in his miserable existence, he was being selfless and urging Ethan to leave him behind. It was the last thing Heisenberg wanted.

Don’t leave me here. I’m fucking scared. I don’t want to die yet.

“Fuck you,” Ethan’s voice trembled with venom, “I’m not leaving you here now. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

Heisenberg let out a bitter chuckle, tasting the blood seeping from his gums as he grinned, “I don’t think we have any time to be arguing about this, buttercup.”

“No. I— Mia’s dead, Karl. I need you.”

That’s right. Heisenberg briefly recalled Miranda’s kidnapping of the not-so-innocent woman and the experimentation that followed. Unfortunately, her body gave in due to her state after giving birth and she died on Miranda’s operating table. Ethan’s wife was dead, and Rose was now left without a mother’s loving touch.

“I said go. Rose needs her papa intact, not blown to pieces.” Heisenberg insisted, slumping back against the pile of scrap metal.

“Damn it—” Ethan looked hesitant to leave Heisenberg. It was a truly sweet sentiment: to see someone care about him after all this time. After all of the terrible things he’d done, and the love he’d been deprived of… Someone cared about him. Maybe that was enough. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to die like this.

“Fuck.” Ethan stammered again, licking his dry lips and swallowing, “Karl… I… Thank you.”

“... Yeah. I know, Ethan.”

That was all he needed. A trembling, watery smile shot his way before Ethan held Rose close with both arms and turned to run.

He’s going to be a great father.

Heisenberg looked up at the plant-like form the Megamycete had taken, looming down upon the ceremony courtyard with writhing mold creeping closer to Heisenberg. It was then that he decided that giving in like this wasn’t who he was: he was a fighter to his last breath.

In a last attempt to preserve his life, Heisenberg parted the pile of scrap metal and shuffled beneath it all. He rolled his wrist, the cocoon of metal surrounding him and tightening. The metal creaked, drowning out the sounds of the mold writhing around the metal to try and get inside. Heisenberg closed his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth. I won’t die. Not yet.

The explosion that followed shortly after was deafening, causing the entire ground to shake beneath him and the metal to shudder against his body. It felt painful, rippling off his injured skin like that… But, fortunately for Heisenberg, the explosion wasn’t nuclear — the blast was enough to do the job and wipe out the mold and the Megamycete.

A silence followed the explosion, brick and ash collapsing against Heisenberg’s metal cocoon. Each noise made him flinch, and his fingers twitched instinctively as some final line of defence. He didn’t know how long it was before he felt brave enough to let his guard down and release his telekinetic grip on the metal. The scraps suddenly slumped, collapsing around him as Heisenberg pushed the metal off of his body and emerged like a phoenix rising from the ashes of its former self.

The smoke and dust still remained, causing Heisenberg to cough heavily as he took a sharp inhale of the air. He squinted through the dust and remains of what was left of his home town and realised how much he’d lost. It hit him all at once; his childhood, his parents and his fucked up little family. Even though he hated Miranda and his makeshift siblings deeply, they were all he truly had left to call ‘family’. It was over in the blink of an eye, and Heisenberg suddenly felt like a child all over again. Like a child waking from a nightmare, scared and alone.

Heisenberg’s fingers twitched into tight fists, clamping his mouth shut as tears threatened to spill down his face. Even after all this, he tried to will himself not to cry, to never let down the walls he had so carefully built. But, at that moment there was nothing left to keep the foundations upright. Heisenberg’s fists loosened, and he brought his hands up to cover his face instinctively. A knot seemingly untied itself in his chest and throat, and a guttural sob left him. Maybe — just maybe — it was okay.

Navigating the woods was even worse during a snowstorm at night. It was bad enough that Heisenberg’s body was weak from his healing injuries, but it felt haggard from his intense emotional breakdown. In a strange sense, he felt relief from it but at the same time, it felt awfully inconvenient. Heisenberg was sure he looked like a terrible mess; his clothes were torn and his hair was damp with clumps of ash hanging from his silver locks. Not to mention the blood staining his clothes, and his valuable dog tags that hung low on his chest.

In his many idle chats with Ethan before they fought Miranda, he could recall the other man mentioning he didn’t live too far from the village. It was a fair distance away, but not too far that it would be impossible to reach if your car broke down on the road between them. Still, it wasn’t a pleasant or short walk.

By the time Heisenberg even managed to reach a place that looked like a livable home, he was close to collapsing in the snow… But, he held out. The lights were turned off inside, but a motion sensor light on the property turned on once Heisenberg got close enough. The bulb blinded him briefly, and he held a hand up to shield his eyes as he walked up the porch to the door. Heisenberg sluggishly lifted his hand, knocking on the door as hard as he could and leaning against the frame. It took a few moments before he could see a light turn on inside from the windows, and the sound of someone walking down a wooden staircase slowly.

The person on the other side of the door stopped before they reached for the doorknob, and they spoke out.

“Who is it?”

Ethan Winters. That voice Heisenberg had missed so dearly; in all of its glory and full of caution. It almost made him laugh.

“Let me in, Ethan. I’m freezing.”

“Karl?”

“As smart as ever, Ethan. Can you hurry up?”

Ethan was quick to unlock the door and remove the security chain, twisting the doorknob and pulling it open. There, Ethan was standing in a pristine white shirt and some boxers that hung low on his hips… Along with a pair of comical slippers that seemed to resemble a cartoon dog. Heisenberg’s lips twitched into a tired grin.

“Oh my, too much skin, Ethan. Back in my day—”

“Shut up and get in here!”

Ethan grabbed Heisenberg’s arm, tugging him inside to shield him from the snowstorm outside. He slammed the door shut and quickly locked it back up, and the two men finally stood face-to-face. There was a silence that hung in the air, with so many unanswered questions on the tip of Ethan’s tongue, but none came. Without any further hesitation, Ethan threw his arms around Heisenberg’s neck and tugged him close for an embrace.

It was the first time Ethan had touched him in such a way. So full of affection and genuinity, it made Heisenberg’s fingers tremble with uncertainty. He didn’t know what to do with his hands: so overcome with the touches that smothered him. His brows creased into an expression of relief, and Heisenberg’s steel eyes fluttered shut as he succumbed to the hug. He wrapped his arms around Ethan’s waist, squeezing him carefully and burying his face into Ethan’s shoulder. The smell of talcum powder and formula milk permeated his shirt, giving Heisenberg the comfort he craved. He never wanted Ethan to stop touching him, and he was content to stay like this for as long as he could — to make up for all the time he’d lost aching after affection.

“I thought…” Ethan mumbled slowly, “I thought you were dead.”

“Mm.” Heisenberg hummed lowly in response, curling his fingers into Ethan’s shirt. “So did I. Turns out I’m hard to kill.”

Ethan snorted softly.

As it turned out, Heisenberg wasn’t too bad with kids.

It was a tough adjustment for the two men at first; Ethan had to keep Heisenberg a well-guarded secret as he was moved to a new location with Rose (courtesy of the BSAA). Heisenberg followed their steps at a safe distance, but he was never too far from them. Understandably, Ethan was moved into a smaller home: a humble bungalow in a quiet German village. Once the BSAA had left Ethan in peace with Rose, it didn’t take long before Heisenberg settled into the bungalow with them.

Ethan had insisted that if Heisenberg was going to stay there with him and Rose, then he’d need to learn to help take care of the baby. At first, he was extremely hesitant to do something akin to a parental figure… But, Rose was a surprisingly sweet baby. She didn’t fuss too much and rarely threw a tantrum over the little things. Rose was the right amount of responsibility for Heisenberg, and that made him a patient parent.

He’d been taught how to properly hold her (after many lectures), how to prepare her formula and change her. Rose was understandably unhappy with Heisenberg’s presence at first, perhaps longing for her mother that was no longer around… But, after a few months, she took to Heisenberg very well.

Because of Karl’s lack of mortality and infertility, he never thought he’d take the figure of a father like this… But, it wasn’t exactly an unwelcome opportunity. He’d even upgraded from sleeping on the couch to Ethan’s bed.

The first night Ethan invited him to bed, Heisenberg could tell from the flustered look on Ethan’s face that it took a lot of courage to ask him to bed. A sexual joke lingered on the tip of Heisenberg’s tongue, but he bit it back in favour of keeping the proposal on the table. Instead, Heisenberg had nodded with a cheeky grin and followed Ethan to bed.

There had been some nights where the loss of Mia hit Ethan harder than he’d liked it to — even after Mia’s work with The Connections was revealed, he had still loved her to a degree. Those nights were the hardest. All Heisenberg could do was hold Ethan in his arms and comfort him with nothing more than his presence.

This invitation into Ethan’s bed was far more intimate than a comforting hug. At first, they stayed a polite distance apart on either side of the bed, with Ethan turned on his side whilst Heisenberg stared up at the dark ceiling. In the darkness, his eyes created shapes that danced across the ceiling and warped before him. Much like the mold that infested him, it was as if it continued to taunt him with its presence. After a moment, Heisenberg finally turned onto his side and glanced at the lump that was Ethan with his back to him. That urge to touch returned to the forefront of Heisenberg’s mind. It was that deep ache in his chest, like a lump of flour stuck in a smooth dough that needed to be coaxed inward.

He reached out but stopped himself before he could touch, trying to plan the best way to move forward with what he wanted. Heisenberg pursed his lips, shuffling his body closer to Ethan’s back until he finally slid his arm over Ethan’s waist. He could feel Ethan’s body freeze and tense up a little, which made Heisenberg’s heart feel like stopping altogether. Had he gone too far?

But after a moment, Ethan relaxed, pressing his chest back into Karl slowly. It was all the permission he needed to slot himself fully against Ethan and quietly seek out his hand. Once Heisenberg found it, he carefully laced their fingers together as he held Ethan like that, tugging him close with his elbow.

No words were spoken in the darkness, but a silent understanding of what they both wanted. Heisenberg finally felt complete like this, closing his eyes and exhaling tiredly. His body suddenly felt tired, releasing all the tension it had been holding trying to psyche himself up to do it.

A feeling of affection swelled in Heisenberg’s chest as he held Ethan, finally giving in to the darkness and drifting away with their bond now stronger than ever.

“Are you fucking insane, Ethan?!”

Chris Redfield. A thorn in Heisenberg’s side, but not as bad as Miranda. His voice filling their home put Heisenberg on edge, but it didn’t really matter too much to him. It was around ten in the morning, and the couple had just had breakfast. The television was on, playing some cartoons in the background as Rose was sitting on the soft carpet of the living area with her toys, and Heisenberg sat close to her.

When Chris made an unexpected visit, and he spotted Heisenberg in the living room, the yelling began. Ethan had kept Chris just outside of the room so that Rose didn’t see her father getting angry, and Heisenberg made sure to keep her attention on her toys. Heisenberg was wearing a pair of tartan boxers, along with a button-up pyjama shirt with a white tank top beneath it. It wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of bedtime fashion, but it made him comfortable enough at night.

When the yelling only got worse and Rose seemed irritated by the noise, Heisenberg carefully brought Rose into his lap and crossed his legs.

“Hmm,” He hummed in feigned thoughtfulness, “Does ol’ Karl need to perform for little Rose again?” Heisenberg sighed dramatically, “Oh, the things I do for you.”

He turned his body subtly to the kitchen area, holding his hand out and focusing on one of the drawers. It slid open, a few tablespoons floating out from a cutlery tray. Heisenberg pulled his hand back, the spoons floating across to the living area and bringing them to a stop in front of him and Rose. With a simple, slow roll of his wrist, the spoons began to twirl and move in a circular motion above Rose.

Her eyes widened with fascination, the corners of her mouth opening into a gleeful smile. Absently, she reached up with her soft, pink hands and tried to reach for the spoons half-heartedly as they continued their motions. A soft laugh bubbled from her, causing Karl to smile softly.

“He’s a dangerous bioweapon, Ethan. He could hurt Rose!”

Heisenberg managed to hone in on those words; a sharp pain digging into his chest when he realised the implications Chris was trying to make. That Heisenberg was a monster. A bioweapon without feeling. A creature that would kill a child.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ethan pointing wordlessly at the soft scene of Heisenberg with Rose in his lap, entertaining her with spoons. That was all he needed to say, really — without even saying it. Even Chris was at a loss for words, and he quietly relented. Ethan was surely in for an afternoon of lectures.

It made Heisenberg smile a little more, turning his head subtly towards Ethan and catching his gaze. It was his quiet way of saying thank you. It went beyond thanking Ethan for trusting him with Rose but thanking Ethan for listening to Heisenberg, taking him into his home and loving him. Even though they’d never spoken those three little words out loud, maybe they didn’t need to. Their actions, affections and closeness spoke those words loud enough.

Truly, after all this time, Heisenberg didn’t think he was capable of ever being loved or trusted. Now that he’d left that horrible life behind, he was now a father, a friend and possibly a lover. The trauma would always remain, yes, like the cadou and the mutations. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy like this, in this simple little life he’d started to build with Ethan.

Maybe it would be okay.

#ethan winters x karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x ethan winters #heisenberg x ethan #heisenwinters #wintersberg #winterberg #karl heisenberg #ethan winters #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil fic #fanfiction #oneshot

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