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hhawks · 2 years

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PINK IN THE NIGHT

✰ starring: tomura shigaraki x fem!reader ✰ synopsis: stardew valley au: your grandfather’s death has left you with the once in a lifetime opportunity to move away to where nature calls you, and there you meet the loving touya, the bubbly himiko, and the whirlwind enigma, tomura. ✰ content: quirkless, stardew valley au! awkward first? love, lots of stardew valley canon compliant stuff (locations, festivals, birthdays etc), non-descript injury, non-descript killing (of monsters Lol), mentions of loneliness/isolation and consequent depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, slight angst, shigaraki likes frogs. if you do not know the stradew valley plot/lore, you won’t be lost i promise. i tried to make it as clear as i could ✰ warnings: switch!tomura, switch!reader, dom/sub dynamics, semi-public sex, blowjobs, face-fucking, unprotected sex, slight size kink, belly bulge, light bondage, ass play, rimming, face-sitting, slight cumplay. alcohol consumption, slight dubcon for it. reader refers to tomura’s hole as a ‘cunt’. just once ✰ word count: 25.9k (i’m about to die) ✰ a/n: oh my god. oh my fucking god. this monster is finally done. i started this literally three months ago (on 19 jan 2022) and i have just been putting it off for fucking weeks. but finally, stardew valley!shigaraki is here. most of this was written at 2am after a whole day of uni work, but i’ve had it edited over n over n beta’d so i hope you guys enjoy it. seriously contemplating never doing a long fic ever again. playlist for this fic dedicated to my baby, heart and soul minty @peppermint-saddies. thank u for brainrotting this idea with me months ago.

if you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. the same thing happened to me, long ago. i'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature. so i dropped everything and moved to the place i truly belong.

the bus ride is bumpy. you think the air conditioner’s a little wonky, so you reach up to twist the nozzle and it blasts colder, stronger. there’s idle chatter around you, submerging you but not quite reaching you. it sinks in your bones, now that you’re really here, how much you left behind. maybe it’s for the best. zuzu city was dreary, you could feel it in the everyday, in the air of your stuffy cubicle, of the worn out pavements. maybe it was good for you to leave.

so you settle back into your seat, watching as the world whips by. you’d forgone the earphones in favour of the rumbling of the engine. there’s somebody behind you on the phone, muttering about how tiring his trip was and how glad he was to finally get back home. “though the town never has cases like these,” he laments. “these out of town consultations may be tiring, but they’re good for the bank, you know?” you hear a soft muffled response, a girl maybe.

the town. that’s where you were going, isn’t it? maybe he was one of the villagers grandpa had talked about in his letter. you doubt it, since grandpa hadn’t been back here in years, maybe decades. you try to sneakily catch a glance of this guy, twisting your back under the guise of cracking it, and you manage to spot his auburn hair and thick frame glasses. he catches your gaze before you can turn back, and smiles. you smile back, and that’s the end of that.

the rest of the ride breezes by, the soft hum of the engine and the occasional bumps along the road that jerk you awake. finally the valley comes into view, and you’re grateful for the opportunity to stretch out your legs after this endless journey. the breeze is to die for, the smell of pine refreshing. you feel it in your bones, the overwhelming relief you feel that finally, you’re here.

it’d been the figment of your imagination, a dream, something that you reached out for but could never really touch in the months leading up to this moment, since you quit working at joja headquarters after reading grandpa’s letter. but now, as you stand on earthy oranges and greens, as two figures approach you with gentle smiles on their faces, it’s all come to fruition. the man on the back of the bus bustles off, waving a small ‘hello’ to the two people who’d come to greet you at the bus stop.

“hey farmer,” one of them smiles. the skin around her warm green eyes crinkles like leaves curling over a flame, and she feels so genuine. “how was the ride?”

“cramped,” you laugh, lugging your suitcase behind you. you realised how few things you had to your name when you were packing for this move. your entire life fitted into suitcases, zipped and ready. “but the view was beautiful.”

“right?” she chortles, slapping the older man next to her on the back. “that’s what i always tell demetrius, but he’s always so engrossed in soil samples and things like that. just sit back and look at how pretty everything is, without the need to study it.” she notices your face still at the name demetrius, and she laughs. “sorry, forgot. demetrius is my husband. i’m robin!” she sticks out her hand, and you take it graciously.

“the mayor?” you try, and she grins.

“should be. instead that’ll be this old geezer.” she gestures to the man next to her, who takes off his brown cap and nods. “this is mayor lewis.”

“it’s my pleasure,” he smiles, and then elbows robin in the side. “whaddya mean ‘should be’?”

“nothin’!” robin giggles, her laughter tinkling against the soft rustling of the trees. you smile, this picture painted of two genuinely happy people about to lead you to what you’ll come to call home eventually. “anywho, come with us. we’ll take you to the old cabin your grandpa lived in.”

robin leads you with a hand on the small of your back, hoisting your duffel on her shoulders. you take a moment to wonder what she does; the toned sinew trailing up her arms, her built figure. her palms are warm.

it isn’t a far walk to the overgrown field of trees and weeds, a small cabin coming into view. robin’s talking about how she’s given it a new paint job, and you notice the way the fresh coat of reds and browns contrasts the overgrown vines that climb through the field, the scattered logs and boulders. there’s a pile of firewood lying next to your door, a brand new mailbox that robin slaps with a hearty laugh, and a wooden bin next to that.

“sight for sore eyes,” mayor lewis breathes. “the farm’s gone pretty much untouched since your grandpa left the town, god bless his soul. you’ve got your work cut out for you, huh?”

you look around. the rich earth, the tall, girthy trees that seem to stretch up to the sky. the weeds, the grass, the patches of green where fruits and vegetables lay, ripe for the picking. it’s all beautiful. all potential in your grand scheme of things. “looks like it,” you laugh softly, arm reaching back to scratch at your neck. “it’s a beautiful place.”

“i’ve got clint— our blacksmith, yer should meet him sometime— to make you a couple of tools so you can start making the land yer own,” robin gestures up the steps to the house, bustling the door open. “and i took the liberty of furnishin’; whaddya think?”

the sight that greets you is one that softens your doubtful heart. robin’s made a home out of this cabin; a small bed takes up the corner of the room, and lining the walls is a beautiful green wallpaper, trees and leaves lining the print. there’s a tv with a stand in the opposite corner, one that robin shows you how to use (“you switch the channels like that— yeah, just like that! you got it.”) and a bunch of potted plants to ‘spruce up the barrenness’ of the cabin. “it’s wonderful, robin. thank you.”

she grins widely, and you think to yourself that you’re gonna enjoy the time you spend around her in the valley. “it’s nothin, lil missy. and if you ever want an upgrade— i can add a kitchen! and a fireplace!— you know where to find me.”

“i, uh, don’t, actually.” you giggle. “i guess i’ll have to take a walk around the valley and learn where all of you live.”

mayor lewis nods, leaning back against the wall. “that sounds like a good idea,” he quips. “but i think right now it’s best to rest up. it’s getting late, and i’m sure you’re exhausted from the bus ride. how about we take a little trip to the saloon for dinner?”

and that’s how you end up sitting around new faces and lovely people; an artist named leah, the saloon owner gus, a lovely bartender emily. they all surround you, berating you with questions. “you used to work for joja?” leah crinkles her nose, and you think she’s very cute. “was it hell?”

“pretty much,” you laugh over a big glass of beer that gus insisted into your hands. “i hated every day i worked there. i’m glad i left.”

there’s soft laughter and the blur of music from the jukebox as the night passes you by, the drinks heavy and the conversation light. you smile; you think you haven’t smiled this much (and this genuinely) in a long, long time. there’s a group of kids in the next room, and you hear them playing pool and their own hearty laughter drifting out.

“the teenagers,” gus introduces them when they walk out. “they’re always together, especially the boys. touya and tomura.”

you look up at them, and one of them’s looking back at you. silently, hands shoved into the front pockets of his hoodie. his silver-blue hair pokes out from behind his hood, shoulder length and you think it looks so soft.

“you’re the new farmer!” the girl cuts into your reverie, bounding towards you. her hands slam down on the table and drink sloshes out onto the wood, but you barely notice it over her intruding conversation, messy blonde hair and sweet voice. her eyes are narrow yet somehow still feel welcome, glittering gold. “dad won’t quit talking about you. always wonderin’ when you’re coming in. you’re good for the business, i s’pose.” she sticks her hand out. “‘m himiko! i’m sure we’ll get to know each other loads more.”

you smile, and give her your name. she says it, once, twice, and then turns back to the boys behind her. “touya,” she points at the white haired boy, tall and lanky with a soft grin on his face. his forearms, though mostly covered by his denim jacket, trail black and red ink down to his hands, swirling in intricate patterns. you can’t help but wonder where his tattoos stop and his skin begins.

and then himiko directs your attention to the other boy, his face pale and skin scattered with scars, rough patches of flesh climbing down into the neck of his hoodie. but what you can’t take your eyes off are his eyes; vermillion, deep set eyes, tight rings of bruising purple coiled under his waterline. more than seeing, they seem to look—

have i met you before?

“and tomura!”

you greet them softly, your mind still elsewhere. you’re intrigued, curious.

“hi,” tomura barely manages before he’s ushering the other two out the door. “can we get going? mom’s gonna take the piss out of me for being late home again.”

“whatever,” touya reaches closer to you, shaking your hand. “sorry ‘bout him. he’s not the nicest guy in the village.” tomura smacks him, and you giggle a little. “you should hang out with us some time! we could use the company.”

“i’d love to,” you smile. “and i should get going too, actually. it’s been a long day.”

there’s a shift, and everyone’s getting up. you help emily bring the mugs and glasses to the counter of the saloon, and bid her a hearty goodbye. leah’s there, waiting by the door for you to traipse outside with her. “we both live on the outskirts of town,” she brings up as you two walk in step. “i’d love to show you around the forest, if you’d like.”

you nod. “that would be great,” you muse, looking up to the sky. the grey clouds have parted just so slightly for the stars to twinkle through, the half moon’s silver gaze following the two of you walking the path down out of town. you chatter about your past lives in the city, and learn that she left to escape the city life too.

“it was always a drear, you know what i mean?” her long hair flits in the wind, the gentle breeze whistling between you two. “and after i broke up with my partner there was really nothing left for me in that city.” she looks up, and you follow her gaze to watch the stars guide you. “how about you? i mean,” she snorts. “you already talked all about it in the saloon, i don’t know why i asked—”

you laugh with her, hands just slightly brushing, the skin of your knuckles meeting hers. “i mean, you’re right. that’s pretty much all i had to say.”

you bid her goodbye when you reach her cottage, catching a glint of her smile as she slides into her home and the windows start to glow with orange honey. you stay there a beat longer, admiring the melodic rush of the riverside, and you’re almost tempted to walk forward, to peer over the edge and watch yourself ripple in the reflection. but it’s late, and you still have to traverse through the foliage to get back to your cottage. you step over what feels like the fiftieth rock or weed or rock-weed hybrid and finally, fall through the wooden door into your cottage.

the moon lulls you to sleep, and you dream of haunting eyes and silver-blue hair.

SPRING, YEAR ONE.

a gift, for you to get started!

you look into the box, and the packets of parsnip seeds look back at you. you’re not sure when mayor lewis arrived to place this in your cottage, but you don’t have time to think too much about it. the sun is beginning to rise, and you have your work cut out for you.

there’s not much time before you’re due to meet the rest of the town, so you spend your first few hours planting the bunch of seeds mayor lewis supplied you with— fifteen, if you counted correctly. you sow them into the soil and water them generously. this farmer thing isn’t too hard.

that’s what you think until you begin clearing out the weeds, your hands becoming familiar with wrapping around the roots and tugging them right out of the soil. you collect the wood and the stones in chests robin had made for you, seemingless endless space in such a small place. the morning rolls away, and you find yourself sweltering under the afternoon sun before long.

a jingle welcomes you as you push open the door to pierre’s general store, a little chilly from the heat outside. there’s someone at the counter whose head snaps up at the sound of your entering, thick frame glasses perched at the end of his nose. “if it isn’t the talk of pelican town,” he smiles graciously. “i’m pierre! you must be the new farmer.”

“that’s me,” you laugh heartily. “robin told me you’re the one i should be getting all my seeds from?”

pierre beams. you think you haven’t seen a man his age smile that wide in— ever, actually. “she said that? none of that stinkin’ joja business?”

the word leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “no, fortunately,” you smile. “i think i’ll be a regular customer here.”

you don’t leave until pierre shows you around the shop, the seasonal seed packets that he stocks, the wheat and flour and basic cooking things you hadn’t even thought about until he brought them up. “oh and,” he turns back to you after he talks your ear off about how joja had given him a run for his money with their mass produced seeds and processed foods. “i also buy produce. so if you’ve got only you need a quick buck for, you know where to find me.”

“got it,” you say, heaving the mound of seeds onto the cashier desk for him to ring up. “anything else i should know?”

he hums. “the villagers put up ‘help wanted’ notices on the bulletin board outside. i know most of them pay a pretty penny for things you can find ‘round the valley, like leeks ‘n’ stuff. need a bag?” you shake your head, opening your own satchel to stuff the potato seeds and cauliflower and what not. “you’re all good to go, then! thanks for stopping by!”

“‘course,” you smile back. “i, uh, i’ll see you around then.”

you turn to leave, and right as your hand finds the door handle, you hear your name. “farmer! jeez, dad, you coulda’ told me she was here.”

“miko—”

but it’s cut off as she bounds up to you, clapping her hand on your shoulder. himiko looks spritely and lovely, you think, her hair done up in two symmetrical buns, her mouth split into a grin from ear to ear. “i was just ‘bouta walk on over to tomu’s. wanna come with?”

tomu. tomura. scarlet eyes glare into yours every time you blink, burned into the back of your eyelids. “i— i don’t know him all that well—”

himiko laughs, hearty and loud. “who cares? just come, you said you wanted to explore the valley, didn’t you?”

she’s right. it’d be good to know where everyone lived. plus, you knew tomura was robin’s son, so finding him would be finding her. so you nod, heave your backpack over both shoulders and link arms with himiko. you watch with mirthful eyes as she sing-songs “bye!” to pierre, who waves her off with a small smile on his face. you wonder how your dad is, if he would ever miss the way you turn back to wave goodbye before leaving the house. he’d sent you money before your move to the valley, detailing how he’d come to visit and “take a stroll through those old pathways your grandfather raised me on”.

these are the roads that your father once stood, and your grandfather before him. worn and soil eroded, but the patches of greenery sprout ever lively. you reach down to pick a dandelion, murmuring to himiko as you tuck it in her buns.

“thanks,” she mumbles back, a small blush heating her cheeks. “the valley is really pretty this time of spring.”

she’s right. the air isn’t too hot, and the breeze that trickles through your sleeves and along your skin is comfortable. not too biting. the clouds loll lazily through the sky, beaming white and yellow where it covers the sun. the trek to the mountains is quick, but himiko talks at a mile a minute, telling you stories of her online classes, her pet guinea pig david, and the band touya and tomura were planning to form.

“and like, they asked me to be their drummer,” she skips ahead of you, walking backwards. her hands fly, and you chuckle just watching her. “which of course i said yes, because i love them you know, but i don’t even know how to play the drums.” she mimics the movements in the air. “i could just— it can’t be that hard, can it?”

“himi—” you call out to her, arm reaching out to pull her slightly out of the way of demetrius walking out, nose buried in his notes. his head snaps up and he takes a sharp turn to avoid himiko, who lets out a small squeak.

“oh, shit, sorry mr. demetrius,” himiko bows her head over and over. “wasn’t watchin’ where i was goin’.”

“are you ever, himi?” he chuckles. “nice seeing you both. you here to see tomura?”

“as always, sir!” himiko beams. “and what are you studyin’ today?”

demetrius flashes his notes quickly. you catch the words fruits and bats and mushrooms but that’s all. “i was actually on the way to the river, but i wanted to ask you about your farm,” he turns to you. “i’m sure you’ve seen the cave west of your cabin. do you mind if i take a look at it? i’ve been looking at the soil samples in the various caves in the valley.”

you wave a hand dismissively. “of course, do whatever you need, sir.”

he nods, and bids you both farewell, trekking up to the rushing river north of the carpenter’s shop. “c’mon,” himiko pushes open the heavy set doors, the light tinkle of the bells attached to the door handle alerting robin of your entrance.

“hey!” she smiles at the two of you. “farmer, welcome to my humble abode. i see you finally found it.”

you laugh. “only with himiko’s help.”

robin continues about her newest endeavours into woodworking, the new supply of cherry hardwood she’s planning to whirl into a set of new beds and end tables. “and of course, if you need anything built—”

“she knows, mom,” the three of you turn to the source of the voice; and at the top of the stairs, tucking his silver-blue hair behind his ear stands the shadows tacked to the end of your days, those scarlet eyes you keep seeing. “you woke me up just talking about that new hardwood you got yesterday.”

robin huffs. “good morning to you too, tomu.” he nods at us before trudging down the hallway, and himiko bounds after him, planting her hands on his shoulders and wishing him a good morning. there’s a beat of silence between you and robin, before she starts, “i’m so sorry about him.”

“don’t be!” you reassure her. “he sure is a… character.”

“he’s a handful,” she sighs, dropping her elbows on the counter. “he used to be such a cheerful kid. always smiling. can you imagine that?” an airy laugh escapes her, followed by a deep sigh, dipped in nostalgia.

you try to. imagine a little baby tomura, tufts of light hair strewn every which way, toddling around blubbering nonsense with his mouth tipped upwards in a gummy smile. it proves only marginally possible, and your cheeks warm at the thought. “i’m sure he was cute,” you manage, looking wistfully at the hallway he and himiko disappeared down.

“he was,” robin smiles. “took after his father a lot more than he did me. still, he’s nothing like him now.”

you wonder what his father looks like; a lot of fathers coming up in conversation today. “what’s tomura like now then?”

“quiet,” robin says, bracing her hands on the edge of the counter. “he spends most of his time in his bedroom downstairs. he hates the summer, loves the winter. things like that.”

there’s laughter coming from the hallway, distinctly himiko’s. does he laugh? does he even smile? you wonder if the skin around his eye crinkles when he’s happy. robin busies herself with an incoming call, picking it up with a cheery, “hello!” and you take that as your cue to leave. you pad softly down the hallway where the two of them disappeared, and you see them in the kitchen, chattering and laughing.

he does laugh. he does smile. you see it as himiko says something, the words barely audible to you, but you catch caves, and touya, and rock crabs. just a gentle tug of the lips upwards, just a small huff of breath. but it’s enough.

enough for what?

when you return to the farmhouse, it’s quiet. you forwent the usual dinner at the saloon, making some excuse; i’m tired, you lied, reluctance painting your lips in a way that it could be seen as remorse. i think i’m going to have an early night.

but you don’t. in fact, you don’t sleep at all. you curl up along the side of the rushing river, watching the reflection ripple against the jade green water.

you’ve never lived alone. not till now. always surrounded by family, your parents and your siblings. no one ever told you how jarring it would be to come back to a quiet cabin every night. no one told you just how lonely it feels. yeah, it’s liberating, it’s relieving not to have to owe anybody your existence.

but as you look upon the water, the dusty moonlight glistening in the ripples, you think about how much you wish for someone. someone? you frown at yourself. who’s someone? and for what? your hand reaches out to swipe at the water in front of you, disturbing the swirling mirror of your thoughts and reflection.

you’ve never needed anyone, much less had any want for them. hadn’t it been your dream to come out to a place where nobody knew you, nobody owed you anything and vice versa? to feel the thrum of life in your fingertips with every waking moment? stardew valley was blood that coursed through every villager’s veins, a constant reminder that all life is precious, that every day you spent alive was one you were meant to enjoy.

so why are you letting yourself weep? why are you crying for nobody but the forest to hear, hushed by the coursing river and the cloudless sky?

loneliness is a plague, you decide.

i don’t want to be lonely anymore.

the rest of spring passes quickly. you try to make a home out of the cottage, sprucing it out with a couple of paintings and plants from the festivals. on rainy days, you pull on your bright yellow boots your dad gave you as a going away present, to shield you from the mud and gross stuff, he had said with a sheepish grin.

marnie brought a little cat to your doorstep, grey and striped and looking up at you curiously. “i found it sitting at the entrance of your farm! must be a stray… this poor thing.” you crouched by his side, lending a hand cautiously to cradle his face, and he nuzzled against your palm.

you had no choice but to take it in.

you’ve come to treat the valley like home; seeing the villagers on their daily walks, on the way to their jobs or just down the road to the saloon, you greet them with a hearty hello! and maybe even a gift or two.

it’s lewis’ birthday first, and then vincent’s, and then haley’s. you try your best with the pink cake emily hinted at as a gift for haley, and you stagger all the way to the house with it wobbling in your arms. her eyes light up, lipsticked mouth dropping open in surprise. “you remembered my birthday!” she squeals, graciously accepting it into her own hands, her eyes turning into crescents as she grins at you above the cake. “oh my god, this is my favourite. how did you know?”

you just shrug, and shoot a small smile at emily in the corner.

but what spans most of your days is the curious cave in the north of the valley, right past the carpenter shop. you received a letter from joja (sealed in a nauseous blue envelope, reeking of ingenuity and lifelessness) detailing their excavation and the opening of what they call “the mines”. you wonder past it several times in your exploration of the valley, never braving to go in.

“it’s terrifying,” you complain to himiko. “it’s cold and dirty and i hear all these strange noises coming out of the hole with the ladder in it–” you pause, leaning over the felt of the pool table, aiming cautiously. “i don’t have anything to protect myself.”

the stick collides with the ball, collides with the striped yellow ball that bounces off the wall of the table, and just barely makes it into the opposite pocket. himiko groans. “what is that, your third consecutive?”

“and that old guy, marlow? marlon? gave me some— some rusty old sword like that’s gonna do anything,” you aim again, squinting and lowering your gaze to the green striped ball. “i swear to god, it’s like they want me to die in those mines.”

“we can go down there with you if you want,” touya offers from the couch across from you, leaning back against tomura’s side. he’s sipping a can of joja cola that you bought him as a reward for beating you at pool. “i know tomu’s always wanted to check it out.”

“so do i!” himiko cuts in before tomura has the chance to protest. “i went down one level. it was so cool.”

“cool if you wanna die,” you mumble. the white collides with green, the rhythmic knack of the balls tense as you watch the green ball roll into the pocket. himiko groans again. “but if you guys want to, i can bring you.”

“bring us?” tomura grumbles. “you’re not our mom.”

“i’m the one with the sword, sweetheart,” you smile. you find yourself enjoying the way tomura’s cheeks redden whenever you call him that, the small, don’t call me that barely audible on his tongue.

out of the three of them, he’s been the hardest to warm up to. you took himi’s, touya’s, and robin’s advice on gifts, striking up small conversations whenever you frequent the carpenter’s shop. he was a little hostile at first, a small frown wrinkling his pale forehead, and a soft, “i don’t really know you,” before walking away. robin would reassure you, that’s how he is before he warms up to you! frankly, he terrified you. ruffled silver blue hair and vermillion eyes burned themselves into your pupils every time you looked at him, like he commanded your attention when you stepped into the same room. he always wore the same kind of hoodie, just in varying shades of dark, unassuming colours. you’d never felt your fingertips tingle with the anticipation of seeing someone, of talking to someone, of simply being around them. it terrifies you.

but deep in your heart, burrowing itself under the covers of veins and arteries, he fascinated you. you’d walked through the valley, finding him in crevices of the town people never really bother to look. sneaking a cigarette. leaning over the bridge to look over into the rushing water. one time, when the rain was pouring and the sky turned grey, you watched him crouching by a bush, in comically big black rainboots, holding his hand out to a frog.

he looked up. caught your eye. something youthful, mirthful stirred in the vermilion of his eyes. “they’re cold,” he shrugged.

you could barely hide your smile.

the night ends when you get your eight ball into the corner pocket, leaving himiko’s solid balls scattered amongst the felt. she whines. “i didn’t even get to win once,” she pouts. “rematch.”

“get good,” touya chuckles, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “and let the poor girl sleep. i’m sure she’s got an early start tomorrow.”

“it’s parsnip harvest tomorrow.” you blink, your eyes dry. “i’ll be up at 6, probably, yanking that shit out of the ground.”

“it’s so interesting,” tomura starts. “that you literally farm, and the rest of us a bunch of nobodies.”

you frown. “don’t say that,” his eyes meet yours, a look of question. “you’re not nobody.”

“compared to you?”

“we all have our paths,” touya interjects. “i don’t think i’m a nobody.”

“well— you’re not, i’m just sayin’, compared to her—”

“touya’s right,” you say. “we all just do different things.”

there’s a tense silence. touya looks at you, and you look at tomura, who looks at his shoes. you don’t realise how tense your shoulders are until you drop them. “well, i’m off,” you say, grabbing your jacket by the coat hanger. “if you want to go cave exploring, you know where to find me.”

“i’m sorry i called you guys nobodies.” tomura mumbles. “i didn’t— i wasn’t thinking—”

you don’t stay to hear the rest of that conversation. you peer at the three of them out of the corner of your eye as you yank the saloon door open and a gust of air ushers you out. the skies are grey, the breeze warming your cheeks. you huddle into your jacket and walk, your boots crunching against the loose sand of the gravel pavements, the smell of spring slowly fading into the spice of summer.

the creak of the floorboards as you climb the steps to your farmhouse are interrupted by the jagged sound of footsteps bounding towards you, getting louder with each footfall. you turn around the same time he reaches you, and the both of you gasp and jump back a step.

“shit,” tomura grins. “did i scare you?”

you huff a small laugh. “yeah, a little. didn’t expect you to be— right… there.”

“sorry,” he shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. you watch him curiously, the way his hair is tucked behind his ear, the way his sleeves reach down to cover his palms. “i, uh,” he starts, blinking awkwardly. “cave exploring. tomorrow?”

something in your heart blooms. you’re not sure what it is. “you wanna come cave exploring with me?”

he rolls his eyes. “that’s what i just said.”

the night is quiet. you can hear the occasional cricket in the distance, the whispering winds rustling between the two of you. he’s just a little taller than you are, craning your neck up just a tiny bit to see the reddening chill of his nose. you smile to yourself. “yeah,” you say finally. “tomorrow.”

there’s a shadow of a smile that graces his lips when you say that, almost like he’s… excited. he straightens, clearing his throat, mouthing opening and closing like he wants to say something but can’t find the words to. so you say it for him. “you know,” you shift your weight to your other foot, coming down the steps of your cabin. “you didn’t have to come all the way down here to ask me. you could’ve just shown up there and tagged along.”

“i wanted to—” he starts, and then stops himself. spends a second thinking of what to say. “wanted to make sure you got home okay too.”

sweet. so, so sweet. “oh,” your cheeks warm. it’s because of the night wind, you promise yourself. “well, i’m okay.”

“good.” there’s a beat of silence, and then he turns to look around your farm. “you know, i could never imagine myself living on a farm. could you picture it? ridiculous.”

you roll your eyes. “don’t knock it till you try it,” he’s looking over your crops wistfully, full of thought. “it’s not the life i thought it’d be.”

“really?” he doesn’t turn to look at you. “what’s it like, then?”

you sigh, kicking out your legs and dropping to sit on the patio. “fulfilling,” is the first word you find that rings true. “like i can wake up every day and feel like i’m meant to do something that day.”

that makes him turn around. look at you with curious scarlet. he seems to glow in the moonlight, his hair billowing in the soft breeze, haloed by the silvery gaze of the stars. you could look at him forever, trace the shape of his body, the small scars on his face. “how did you find that?” his voice is quiet as he asks. like he’s sincere. like he wants to know.

what has life made of you? “i don’t know,” you answer truthfully. “back at joja i went to work for nothing. just a simple, contractual obligation i had to the company. but here,” you breathe in the earthy smell of your growing parsnips, of the rich bark, of the hours of meticulous work that found fruition by the movements of your hands. “it feels like i’m making something every day. and it feels good.”

tomura’s quiet for a moment. turns back to gaze at the splintering moon. “i wish i could feel like that one day.” the end of his sentence sounds unfinished, like he wants to say more. his jaw clenches, and your heart softens. what has life done to you?

moonlight settles in the pastures of grass between you. you feel something in your fingertips, beyond the buzz of the chill, beyond the whistling wind. you feel the need to reach out for him, stroke your fingers through his hair, listen to what he has to say. maybe, you think, too many people have heard him, but not enough have listened. i feel like i know you, you want to say. even though we’ve never met.

“i’ll see you tomorrow,” his voice, small and tinny cuts through the night air. “don’t be late.”

you scoff. “i’m the one up at 6 every morning. what time do you get up?”

tomura smiles. “don’t be late,” he says again, shoving his hands back into his pockets, starting his trek towards the backwoods. “11 o’ clock sharp.”

“when did we agree to that?”

“we just did.”

you groan. “you’re terrible.”

he laughs. disappears into the night. you try to pretend that the warmth in your cheeks is purely coincidental.

when morning comes, it brings with it peace. quiet, rushing water from the river where you see leah sketching at the wooden pier, and marnie’s lovely animals greet you good morning. when morning comes, it brings with it the cool spring breeze, weaving through your hair as you wrap your fingers around each stem of parsnip and yanking it out of the earth. this time around you’d used the fertiliser pierre gave you for free to try, and the parsnips look spritely, full figured. you wash one off before trying a piece, and to your surprise, it’s good.

you work with a hum on your tongue, fingertips buzzing with anticipation. as your watch hands tick closer and closer to eleven, your chest begins to twist, just a little. is it just going to be the two of you? you’d never been down the first floor of the mines; has he? tomura’s name, face, voice plagues your mind as you make work of your farm. i feel like i know you, you remember the way you felt last night, the strange familiarity in the singing night and the grey-navy skies, the silvery halo of his hair.

eleven comes quicker than you would have liked it to. you hitch a backpack over your shoulder and jam your thumb under the strap, making sure you have everything you need. your pick, your sword, food and water (enough for both of you, and touya and himiko if they end up showing). the trek down the backwoods and east to the mountains is lovely, sunny yet not warm, a couple of squirrels looking curiously at you as you walk past. you don’t know whether you want himi and touya to be there. mind reeling a mile a second, you huff; would it be better to be alone? you can think of a million things that would go wrong if it’s just the two of you, and somehow the worst one that sticks out to you is the awkward silence neither of you have the capacity to fill.

you want to hear him speak, hear him laugh, see his lips twist upwards. you wonder what his lips feel like; they’re full, a little chapped, and you imagine feeling them up the column of your throat. his hands look so bony, lanky, just like the rest of him, like each ridge of his knuckle juts out. you want to hold it, run your thumb over each mountain and valley.

just to know what he would feel like.

touya and himiko are there when you come into the eyeline of the mines. thank god, you think subconsciously, though a part of you resents the high pitch of himi’s voice and touya’s nonchalant retelling of his morning. “tomura said he’d be here in a minute,” he glances at you. his eyes are so blue, you realise, just looking at him, a small, comfortable smile fit on his lips. you could swim in them, the ultramarine telling stories you’d never dare to ask about. you want to pipe up, ask about his tattoos when himiko waves excitedly, and the both of you turn to catch sight of tomura trudging towards you in his familiar hoodie.

“dude,” touya starts. “you literally live next to the mines, and you’re the last one here.”

“shut it,” he huffs, tucking his hair behind his ear. “i couldn’t sleep last night.” last night. tomura’s gaze drifts to yours for just a second, before he looks back to touya and himiko. “you all ready?”

touya extends a hand to you. “shall we, farmer?” he cocks his head to the side, and you smile as you take it. his palm is warm, fingers long and wrap around yours as he guides you to the front of the group, facing the entrance of the mines. the opening is a little bigger than you are, so you walk in just fine, but touya and tomura have to duck to fit into the entrance. the soil crunches under your boots, and you take a deep breath of the musty, earthy smell.

“i hate it already,” you mumble. “himi, you’ve been down there before right?”

she hums, nodding her head. “‘s full of rocks and ores and stuff,” she peers over the hole where the ladder leads down, squinting. “last i remember, there were these green blobs. like slimes.”

your eyebrow jump, and touya speaks your thoughts for you. “slimes?” his tone is incredulous, but not disbelieving.

“slimes.” tomura chimes in. “i’ve seen ‘em too.”

“they really want us to die down there, huh,” you huff a small laugh, before slinging your bag behind you. “alright. c’mon.”

you’re the first one down the ladder. as soon as your foot makes first contact with the damp earth of the lower level, your breath hitches in your throat. the walls, lined with the occasional torch, barely light the space, dim orange flickering. himiko’s description of “full of rocks” was halfway accurate; the pathways are carved in such a way that you can tell someone’s been here before, a clear trek from the ladder up to the ladder down. you unsheathe your pick and swing it at a rock at your feet, and it breaks apart into shards, rocks and ore alike splintering onto the dirt.

“are any of these valuable?” himiko pipes up, and you look back at them to see touya climbing down the ladder slowly, himiko and tomura already preening amongst the cold, wet earth.

you shrug. “i know clint uses some of it for his blacksmith stuff,” you continue, the shrill snap of the pick against the rock splitting in your ear. it’s satisfying, watching the rocks tumble apart. “and i have some of his blueprints, so i’ll probably take some back with me.”

“don’t cut yourself,” touya warns. “should’ve gotten you a pair of gloves.”

the worry in his voice makes you smile a little. the four of you make your way slowly down to the next floor, you leading the way. there aren’t any of the so-called slimes on the first level, but you still keep a hand on the hilt of your sword. touya takes over the pickaxe while you do, breaking apart whatever you ask him to, in exchange for “making sure we don’t die,” he agrees with a grin.

tomura and himiko stick close to you, himi wrapped around your arm as you inch forward. she’s the one who points out the slimes in the distance, memorised them by sound since your vision isn’t completely reliable in this dim lighting. you fend them off with a couple swipes of your sword, and they drop a particularly gross lump of slime that you hesitate to collect, but you pick some up anyway.

“anyone know what time it is?” you ask as you stop right at a down ladder, swiping your hand across your forehead, the beads of sweat staining your skin.

silence. “4…” touya starts. “10.”

“did you just guess that?”

“yeah.”

the next couple of floors are easy enough, the slimes barely taking your time of day to slay and move on to the next. together, the four of you make it down floor by floor, your knapsack slung over touya’s shoulder and your pick in tomura’s hands, himiko and you up front paving the way for the boys. they make for cheerful company, you find, even in the dingiest of floors. laughter seems to echo here, bouncing off the rocky walls and making the lights quiver.

“lemme try,” himi holds her hand out for the sword, hilt worn by your fearful gripping, but still the only chance you all had at protecting yourselves. “i wanna get a couple swings in.”

you hum. “‘s all yours,” she takes it from your outstretched hand, testing it in her dominant hand; she weighs it, up and down before settling her fingers around the hilt.

“it’s heavy,” she chuckles. “you’ve been handlin’ this all afternoon?”

“you get used to it after a while,” you hunch over, surveying the rocks on the floor, a particularly pretty crystal standing out to you. you pick it up, glowing cerulean and shiny in your palm. tomura stands above you, watching you quietly.

“what’s that?” he murmurs. glancing back up at him, his gaze is so soft, comforting almost. it’s just the two of you in this little space, himiko and touya up ahead carving out the path to the ladder down.

you get back on your feet, placing your hand on your knee for leverage as you push yourself up. “i’m not sure,” you rub the crystal with the hem of your shirt, cleaning the grime off of the surface. “here. for you.”

tomura looks at your outstretched hand, a reflection of the torch on the wall bouncing off the glinting blue. “me?”

you huff a small air of laughter. “who else would i be talking to, dumbass?”

his face flushes red, pink dusting across the apples of his cheeks. “i hate you.” he takes the crystal in his hand, eyes never leaving it. it fits perfectly in his palm, between his slim fingers as he looks closer to inspect it. “it’s pretty.”

there’s a smile that threatens to tear your face in two, and you turn away from him to hide the corners of your lips upturning. “i think so too,” you mumble, busying yourself with looking at the rocks touya had left scattered on the ground.

silence, and then you hear, “thank you.”

you get a pair of gloves in the mail the next morning.

to make sure you don’t cut yourself, the note attached to it reads. thanks for bringing us yesterday. touya.

SUMMER, YEAR ONE

sweet berries and spice come in waves as summer hits. you harvest the last round of parsnips right before the end of spring, tossing them all into the shipping bin to prepare for your next big haul of summer seeds.

after the first time you went mining, you started to go in there by yourself a lot. you found a rhythm in slaughtering the obstacles you found yourself blocked by, before going back and collecting the resources you needed. it proved to be a fruitful experience when you had nothing to distract you, going down floor by floor quicker than you usually did when you were in the company of another.

but it still felt so much better to have them around you. whether one of them or all three, you always found yourself with a splintering grin on your face and soft eyes as you gifted them something. company proved to be a lot more valuable than anything you could collect from the mines.

when you reach the fortieth floor you’re taken aback by the change in the surroundings; crystal blue from ceiling to floor, glistening so clear you’re sure if you crouch closer you could see the vague outline of your body in it. it confuses you so much you back yourself into the elevator and walk out, just to walk back in and go back down to the same floor to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

the floor changed, you text himiko. it looks like im standing in the fuckin ice palace.

and ten minutes later himiko’s behind you, oohing and ahhing at the change in decor. “it’s pretty,” she breathes, fingers lightly stroking the frost walls. “have you gone down?”

“no,” you say, hovering above the down ladder. “i hear shit, dude. there’s more stuff down there. blue slimes? little… black dust things…” you trail off. “i guess i don’t really have a choice, do i?”

himiko grins. “nope.”

the two of you go down together.

asking robin to help upgrade your house is one of the best decisions you’d made. a full size kitchen? an actual bedroom? when you walk in you’re floored, pulling your wallet out of your pocket to stuff more cash into robin’s hands. “please,” you heave. “this- robin, no, listen to me, this is more than ten thousand gold. holy shit.”

“no!” she laughs, pushing the gold back into your hands. “i can’t take anymore. i won’t.”

“but— i need to—”

“take care of tomura,” she says. you stop for a moment, a small frown etched in your eyebrows. “i… i don’t think he’s ever had a real friend. i mean,” robin pauses for a second, leaning back against the panels of your home. “touya and himiko, they’re wonderful. tomu loves them—. but there are some days he tells me to tell them he’s sick or out on his motorcycle while he’s just hidin’ in his room. it’s worrying, really.”

you’re quiet. “he has to have a reason for it,” the silence between the two of you is pungent, but you’re determined to push through it. “he hasn’t always been like that, has he?”

“no! that’s what worries me. what could have happened that changed him?”

you can think of a lot of things. you know robin and tomu’s father were divorced; that was the whole reason why they moved to stardew valley in the first place. you’ve seen him in the rain, standing under the shelter of the train tunnel, smoking a cigarette. you’ve caught him standing by the pier at the beach on gloomy days, just looking out to where the sky meets the sea. in the vermillion of tomura’s eyes you could see an emptiness waiting to be filled. crimson void and expectation.

it sticks with you even when she leaves. you sit, heavy and alone in your cabin just thinking. take care of tomura. what more could you do for him? it isn’t like he’s super receptive to anything you suggest. he’s still a nightmare to be around, narrow eyes and bitten responses.

and yet you can’t seem to get it our of your head how soft and delicate he was that night he showed up at your farm, asking to meet the next day at the mines. i wish i could feel like that one day. was it stupid, thinking about it? thinking about him?

he’s your friend, even if you could even call him that.

you forget about that conversation as the flurry of summer takes over you. melons and blueberries and starfruit populate your farm; it’s busier than it was in spring, and the crops are bountiful and taste sweet. colourful, you think as you round up the first harvest. you keep a few melons and a few starfruit as gifts; you know that penny liked a good melon.

touya’s birthday comes next. you and himiko spend the morning baking him a large pizza (which his mom jodi hinted to you was his favourite food. pepperoni, she laughs. with extra cheese!). you roll a base big enough both you and himiko’s hands could fit along the diameter, but make sure it’s still going to fit in your oven. there’s cheese in your processor, all thanks to your happy cow (who you named kaminari at himiko’s behest), and you top the pizza off with it.

“should we do it at his place?” you ask, you mittened hands gently sliding the pizza into the oven. “i think jodi should be okay with it, right?”

himiko hums. “you think shoto’s gonna be home?” you crack a smile at the mention of touya’s younger brother, who you see toddle around the streets of pelican town at intervals. “we should make a small pizza just for him.”

“this one’s huge, he can just share it with us,” you dust your hands off, shoving the mittens on the counter. “i can run over to the house and check with jodi if it’s okay.”

“sounds good,” himiko hums, pushing herself up to sit on the edge of your table. “how long’s the pizza supposed to bake?”

“about ten to fifteen minutes,” you say, slipping on your shoes. “don’t let it burn. i used my good cheese for that pizza.”

she giggles and gives you a mock salute as you step out the door. you know that touya isnt going to be home; you had tomura take him out to the saloon to distract him (“he’s gonna know i’m distracting him,” tomu complained. “and what am i even supposed to do?” you rolled your eyes. you’re his best friend. figure it out.) and the house should be void of him. you break into a jog, reaching the blue house and rapping your knuckles on the dark oak door.

“come in!” you hear jodi’s muffled response. your hand finds the metal hand and you twist it, letting yourself in. “so sorry i can’t come to the door,” you hear her disembodied voice drift through the house. “my hands are full.”

“it’s alright, jodi,” you smile, padding softly into the kitchen. you watch her prep her food, hilt of her knife snugly fit in her palm, chopping vegetables in a way you could only dream of doing. “i just came by to ask if it’s alright for us to surprise touya for his birthday here, or would you prefer we do it somewhere else?”

she hums. “that’s totally alright,” she glances back at you, smiling. “do you guys need anything? food?”

“himiko and i baked him a pizza,” you lean against the doorframe. “it’s huge, so we thought we could all share it. the four of us, you and shoto.”

jodi places her knife down gently, heaving the chopped vegetables into the waiting bowls. she sets her knife down, and runs her hands under water. you’ve always admired the way jodi made such a home out of her house. pots and pans line the shelves, ceramic bowls of various shades and patterns stacked atop one another. knick knacks lying around, shoto’s toys covering the couch. it’s a home more than it’s a house.

(you wonder if you ever get to call your farmhouse home one day.)

she comes up to you with damp palms, pinching your cheeks. her eyes, soft and brown and aged, sparkle and somehow smile. “that’s too kind of you, sweetheart,” she starts. “i would love to host you guys. what time are you coming over?”

your heart warms. a mother’s love. “soon, i think,” you blink, peering at your watch. “the pizza’ll be done in ten or so minutes, and then we’ll have tomu bring touya back from the saloon. does that sound okay?”

“sounds perfect.”

the trek back home is a quick one. it’s a sunny, warm day, your sprinkles keeping the farm humid and your crops from dehydrating, and you step over them to get back into your farmhouse, where himiko’s sheathing her hands with the mittens. “hey!” she calls over her shoulder.

“jodi’s all good for us,” you pull out your phone, poised to text tomura. “shall we get them now?”

candles on pizza, blown out with soft cheers and hugs all around. shoto sits in touya’s lap and chatters about his day with ms penny and jas as the six of you eating pizza around the coffee table. it’s a day, just a day under your belt, but your heart feels so warm and full. touya’s face stretches into the widest smile when his gaze crosses yours.

“thank you,” he mouths. you smile back.

happy birthday, touya.

the elevator of the mine dings. you’re in need of more copper for your kegs, and you had just run out of ore as you were about to make the last one you needed. your pick hitched over your shoulder and your bag slung across your body, you make quick work of the brown earth floors, racking up copper ore faster than you expected.

monsters here are sparse since it takes a long time for them to repopulate after you wipe them out. your boots squelch noisily against the moist dirt, remnants of grime slime and bugs scattered among the floor. it would be gross to you if you weren’t the one who had slain them that first time.

you climb down ladder by ladder, collecting as much ore as you can find. there’s a strange sound as you reach level 19, but you ignore it. strange sounds are all you hear in these mines, save for the dripping water and the occasional gentle lap of water. you slay a rock crab that hides in the corner, humming. maybe you’ll make crab for dinner tonight. the copper node shatters as your pick makes contact with it, and you pick up the pieces. the down ladder is situated at the far corner of the level, and you make your way to it when you hear the strange sound again.

like a groan. a small hissed out, “fuck.”

somebody’s down there.

you frown. himiko and tomura and touya would never come down by themselves. you told them not to; it’s not safe without a weapon. but you hastily make your way down the ladder.

“who’s there?”

tomura. “tomura?” your voice breaks as your feet make contact with the earth.

“oh, thank fuck it’s just you,” you hear him sigh. “i’m here. round the corner.”

you trudge over to him, and you catch him sitting on the ground, leg extended in front of him. he’s still in his signature navy hoodie, and his hair’s tied up into a ponytail, little strands of silver-blue hanging around his pale face. but that’s all secondary to the wound he’s washing with water. it’s gashing, red spilling over into his jeans, soaked and metallic. you’re almost woozy at the sight, crimson-tinted water pooling under his knee. the wound itself isn’t pretty; the cut’s deep, ripping through skin and flesh, pink gaping open. “holy fuck— tomura, what…”

“rock crab,” he explains, voice indifferent, a complete contrast to the wound in his leg. “it’s nothing.”

“it’s not nothing,” you huff, setting down your pick, heaving your bag off your body. “come here. i’ll—”

“farmer, i’m fine.”

“shut up.” you kneel down next to him, taking out your waterbottle and emptying it onto his wound slowly, making sure the wound is as clean as it can get before you pull out a pack of tissues. “why are you down here on your own anyway? i told you it’s dangerous without a weapon.”

tomura scoffs. “i have a weapon.”

you look up, deadpan. “tomura, that stick is not a weapon.”

he opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. he just watches you work, dabbing tissue slowly over the wound to clear the excess water. next you pull out your towel and wrap it around the wound tightly, clearing most of the blood, and applying pressure to stop the bleeding, even if just by a little. “i got bored,” he starts after a while. “and the mines seemed— it seemed okay when you were around.”

“because i have a sword,” you remind him. you unwrap the towel and apply a little bit of antiseptic. “it’s gonna sting a little, okay?”

“i just got bored. i was wondering which parts of the town i hadn’t explored. but the thing about such a small fucking town is that there’s nothing i haven’t already seen.” tomura’s gaze doesn’t leave you, watching your gentle hands work meticulously over his wound. “you really don’t have to. i was just gonna walk home and dress it myself.”

“well i’m here already,” you mumble, wrapping bandages around the wound. “you should still go home right after you can walk and wash it again. the mines isn’t the most hygienic place, but i did what i could. did you cut yourself anywhere else?”

he’s silent. “no.”

“you’re lying, aren’t you?”

he groans, holds out his palm. “i just slipped when the crab cut me. slashed it against the wall. it’s fine.”

“give me that,” you take his hand, a small cut diagonally along his palm. the crimson is so vibrant against his pale skin, leaking in little droplets oozing out of his skin. you wash it with water, before applying more antiseptic. “you’re an idiot.”

“don’t have to tell me twice,” he grumbles, leaning his head back against the wall. his fingers twitch as you wrap the gauze around his palm, pressing the cotton against the cut.

you hum. “all done,” you let go of his hand, letting it rest against his tummy. “you should get home as soon as you can get up and walk.”

“thanks,” he murmurs. “you should get on with your mining.”

“can’t. you used up all my water.” he rolls his eyes and you snicker, drawing your knees to your chest. “you’re welcome.”

a beat of silence passes. and then, he breathes. “i’m sorry i came down on my own.” his face is warming, a dusting of pink over his cheeks. “should’ve known better.”

“don’t talk to me like i’m your mom,” you laugh. “i don’t care what you do. as long as you stay safe and well.”

“oh, so you don’t care about me?”

“did i fucking say that? deaf bitch,” you shove his shoulder, and he chuckles. “you good enough to walk yet?”

he tries his leg, and it twitches. tomura winces, a small knee jerk reaction has him lurching forward. “don’t think so. i think i’ll stay a little while longer.”

you nod. “i’ll stay till you’re alright. wouldn’t be nice of me to leave you all alone in this dark, scary cave would it, sweetheart?”

he groans. “i keep telling you not to call me that.”

the sound of the water lapping against the stone shore interrupts your thoughts. is this the first time since that night you two have been alone? there’s about a foot of space between the two of you, your pick and bag laying discarded behind you. you sigh, leaning back, letting your hands stretch by your sides. skin makes contact with skin and you pull away just as fast, your fingers brushing his pale knuckles.

“sorry,” you mumble.

“don’t worry ‘bout it, sweets.”

you look at him. “what did you call me?”

he looks back at you. “sweets.”

a small smile paints your lips. “that’s cute.”

have your eyes always been this pretty?

“you know what,” he relaxes back into the wall behind him. “‘m glad it was you who found me. i’d hate it if it was himi.”

you don’t say anything to that. you don’t know what to say to that. thanks? you’re welcome? “what do you have against himi, man?”

“nothing! just, i’m sure she wouldn’t have had the first aid that you did. 10 gold says she’d meet me here just as bloodied.” he laughs. “not her own blood. she’d go crazy with those critters. remember what she was like when you handed over the sword?”

you snort. of course you do. you had to stop her from killing every monster you came across, even the gentle, non-aggressive ones. himiko’s small but so full of bloodlust and rage, you could still hear her grunts and yells echoing around. “it was useful, she got rid of all of them in half the time i woulda taken.”

“and touya would never come down here alone. so,” his fingers flex, like he wants to move them but he can’t. “i’m glad it was you.”

silence. he’s looking at you and you’re looking at him and the inches between your faces seem so far apart. is this the time? is this where you end up, amongst moist earth and the humid air, nothing short of grim and bleak? he looks at you like you bring life into the mines, eyes glancing ever so subtly between your eyes and downwards.

“tomura,” you start. your voice is soft, low, just above a whisper. as if it would hurt you both if you spoke any louder. as if you’re hiding from the world, shielded in this murky abyss. “what are we doing?”

“i don’t know,” he answers. but you don’t stop looking at each other, just willing for the other to give in. kiss me, kiss me. you will him to come closer, just an inch closer. he’s leaning towards you and you to him, so close you could feel his breath on your lips. “is this okay?”

more than okay. but you can find it in yourself to speak or move. all you can do is wait, all you can do is look at him with the most pleading your eyes can convey. and maybe, with one forgotten inch, you will him ever closer to you.

it’s brief. you feel the dizzying contact of skin against skin, breathless and electrifying feeling of his mouth on you. you breathe into him, and your eyes flutter closed as your noses bump against one another’s. it’s clumsy and it’s quick, but your body is so alive it hardly registers the awkward bumbling of your mouths together. you move and it feels seamless, like it isn’t your mind but your muscles that control you now, pressing just a little bit closer, a little bit harder. tomura’s lips are soft, a little chapped, and at first he’s still, frozen where he sits. and then he lets go of the breath that plagues him, and moves.

he chases you for that kiss. every move back you make he’s lurching forward, keep his lips on yours. it’s messy, clumsy, it’s everything you didn’t think it would be, but when you feel the gauzey touch of his bandaged hand on yours, you whimper. a small, throaty sound you can’t control. it’s embarrassing, but he swallows it. he swallows your breath, your composure, licking over your lips and into your mouth. tomura’s crowding into you, needs you like he needs air, and you let him take everything you have.

it’s gnashing teeth and airy gasps, and he pulls, pulls, pulls you towards him, fumbling over the rocky earth between you. “y-your leg,” you manage to pull away just long enough to gasp out, trying your hardest to avoid the bandaged wound, but he’s quicker to pull you down against him.

“i don’t care,” he mumbles before his lips are on yours again, chasing the breath out of your mouth. he’s so demanding; he wants so much, for all of you, and you are nothing if you don’t give it. you give it all up, twist your hands into the fabric of his hoodie and let him take control of you. you let him spit into your mouth, find your cheeks in his palms, cold fingers pressing against your warm skin. it’s just the two of you sitting in this corner of the world kissing like your life depended on it, holding on to each other like the world that you knew burned to ashes around you.

(it was. it is. everything you’ve ever known changed, the moments his skin touched yours.)

and suddenly, you understand. like lovers in a past life. like children waving to strangers. like birds whose feathers barely brush against each other. something ties you to him, in the smell of his hair, in the rough pads of his fingertips. have i met you before?

in your dreams, in your skies, in the pounding of your heart. vermillion eyes and navy hoodies, in a halo of silver blue. you feel so familiar.

when you part, you look at him and he looks at you. how long has it been since someone has look at you this way? really stopped and not just saw, but looked? with melting mirth and gentle adoration? with parted lips, kissed and bitten swollen? cherry cheeks, pleading to be kissed?

you don’t speak. don’t utter a word as you both get up, feet on solid ground. the world feels different. the world feels full. you walk side by side into the elevator, and don’t look at each other.

are we going to say anything?

your stomach aches. a dull pain that reverberates in the echochamber of your organs, seismic and shattering. it hurts, to breathe and to blink. it hurts to walk by his side and not touch him, the space between you pregnant with silence.

you walk together in the general direction of the farmhouse. he comes with you, through the backwoods and the north of the farm, just silent as the evening sun settles between the two of you. the valley is strangely quiet, like all has died down just for the two of you to heave, breathe in, sigh out each other. has it all been said? is there anything left to say? you go up the steps to the cabin and he leaves you at the bottom.

you turn to look at him.

when he looks up, his eyes are puffy.

“tomura,” you start, voice soft. you’re not sure what you want to say, what would be good to say. there’s a million miles between the two of you now, and yet with a single step, you’re in front of him. your tongue betrays you, speaking before you can stop it. “tomura, do you want to come in?”

his leg, you fucking dumbass. you mentally chide yourself, but it’s too late to eat your words now. too late, you think, as you see his eyes glimmer with wanton desire, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. too late, as he takes another step closer to you, a slight limp in his step. too late, as he whispers, “i can’t.”

the silence leaks like a dripping faucet between the two of you. i can’t. i can’t. he can’t, or he doesn’t want to? your mind reels a mile a minute, trying to hide the look of surprise on your face. the sun is dragging her heavy body down beyond the horizon, streaking pink and blue and vermillion eyes that can’t seem to stop looking at you. “you can’t?”

a shaky breath. a mumble, one incoherent, one a soft, whispered, “sorry.”

tomura reaches up, presses his trembling lips against yours once. a gentle, barely there touch. it’s not a kiss; you breathe against one another, unable to move any further forward or any further back, frozen where you are. it’s oddly sweet, oddly intimate, the skin of your noses touching, lingering. your eyes flutter closed.

you don’t open them until you hear him leave.

you don’t see tomura for days after that.

FALL, YEAR ONE

fall sneaks up on you as your last harvest for summer rolls around, the orangey browns bleeding into the greenery of your farm, slowly turning more and more warm-toned. your hands wrap around the last melon of the season, watching the sway of the leaves as they fall slowly to the ground, permeating the ground with the tangible passage of time. two seasons you’d been here.

touya and himiko come to your farm to visit every so often, helping you pluck berries from the bushes, water your plants. touya takes an affinity to feeding your animals, making sure their trough is clean and filled with fresh water.

tomura doesn’t come with them. the first few times, you’d let yourself hope he would, but as summer ticked by, he made no appearance. you didn’t bother looking out for him; the only time you’d try your luck was when you’d frequent robin’s shop to upgrade your barns, and you’d ask. shyly, your voice soft. “is tomura home?”

and she’d look at you the same way she once looked at himiko and touya. “he’s out right now,” she says gently, intonations of her voice suggesting otherwise. “i’ll let him know you were looking for him.”

does it stress you out? a little. you find yourself pacing around the train station, mindlessly plucking weeds or relaxing in the spa, keeping your peripherals out for where he might be. nestled in some nook or cranny of the valley, a cigarette between his pointer and middle finger, crimson eyes narrow and tired. but you can’t find him anywhere. it’s really like he disappeared.

you begin to miss the little jokes, the little shoves you’d give him, and the irritated stare he’d return. you start to miss the three of them; tomura, touya, himiko, trudging to your corner of the valley to disturb you, laughter ringing in different pitches around the farm. but you carry on.

i can’t. can’t what? it was one kiss, that’s all it was. if anything, you’d chide him for being dramatic. but you can’t help the seed of fear that burrows deep in your heart, that maybe you’d asked for too much. that you’d overstepped, that you’d ruined everything good between the two of you.

the taste of his lips lingers on yours, like a burn that etches itself, red and angry under your skin. when you touch your lips you can vaguely remember the feeling of him, his skin brushing lightly against the plains of your cheeks. his hands on the neck of your neck, chilled skin against your flushing figure. him pulling you on top of him, injury be damned.

you can’t stop thinking about him. the fire and the fight. the silent understanding, the mellow gaze you shared when you parted, like two halves ripped apart once again. is it stupid to think like that? he wasn’t your first kiss. far from your last. tomura was but a dent in your grand scheme of life, and yet here you were, hung up over vermillion eyes and silver-blue hair.

“what’s going on with you?” you’re plucked out of your thoughts when touya sits down at your table at the saloon, sliding his mug of beer between the two of you. “you look depressed.”

you snort. “thanks.” he watches you closely as you breathe in slowly, straightening your back. “it’s just been a long season. my back hurts from all the harvesting.”

“you’re like that every day. no, this is different.” he raises the mug to his lips, taking a sip. he baulks, swallowing forcefully before coughing. “god, i don’t know how pam does it. this shit is rancid.”

“i would’ve thought it was right up your alley,” you joke, snatching the handle of the mug from him and taking a swig. your eyes widen, choking back the cough that rises in your throat before swallowing. “i take it back.”

he chuckles. “so what’s up with you?”

you raise your hands in faux surrender. “nothin’! i’m perfectly good.”

but you both know. you don’t have to say it; you both know. tomura hasn’t shown up to anything in weeks, and frankly it’s disorientating. “this isn’t outside of his normal line of behaviour,” touya tries to sell you some compensation, as if it would make you feel any better. “he does this to everyone.”

and you know. you know this isn’t some special treatment he’s giving you; he ignores, avoids, evades. but you thought you could have been. the one he never has to hide from.

your gaze meets touya’s, and you both share a look of resignation. of understanding. one that’s shared between a brother and his sister, one he’d do anything to protect. touya places his hand on yours. in the silence, it’s clear as day.

himiko’s birthday is a quiet affair. she doesn’t want much, but you bring her your most bountiful harvest and the biggest chunk of amethyst you’d saved just for her. she squeaks when you hand it over to her, pulling you into the warmest of hugs.

“thank you, thank you,” she repeats over and over. “you have no idea how much i’ve wanted this. i’m gonna—” she cuts off, jumping up to her feet to stalk over to her dresser, placing the amethyst right in the middle. “like that. so everyone can see it if they so much as peer inside.”

you smile at her. “and the way the sunlight hits it. oh,” you’re mesmerised, streaks of light purple trailing up the walls. “just make sure nothing, y’know. catches fire.”

she laughs. claps her hands on your shoulders and plants a kiss on your forehead. your skin warms, looking up at her with wide eyes. “what was that for?”

“nothin’,” she chirps. “just glad you’re my friend.”

you spend the rest of the day with her, sitting on her floor as she sits above you on her bed, her legs dangling by your sides. it’s weirdly close, weirdly loving in a way that you can’t describe, but you spend the day playing journey of the prairie king, winning round after round with her. touya shows up later with cake, panting slightly.

“my fuckin’ favourite,” she all but yells, taking the cake into her own hands. “my custom shitty strawberry shortcake by touya.”

touya wheezes, rolling his eyes. “i get better every time i try, i promise.”

“i like it just the way it is!” himiko sets it down on the floor, getting down next to it on her belly. “shall we? farmer, you’ve got the candles right?”

you stick them in, light them one by one, and let out a soft tune that touya joins in with. it’s happy and it’s sweet.

you pretend not to notice the gap touya and himiko leave where tomura usually is.

WINTER, YEAR ONE.

as winter approaches, you begin to stockpile for the season. leah’s taught you how to make various salads. you have hay to last for months for your animals, and heaters to keep them comfortable.

“sure does move fast, doesn’t it, farmer?” mayor lewis trudges up to your farmhouse one day at the start of winter. “‘s almost been a whole year since you moved here.”

you shove your hands in your pockets after closing the chest you were digging in, puffing out your chest slightly. “yeah. really flies by.”

“has it been alright?” you think you hear some sort of genuinity in his words, some kind of actual worry. “i see you’ve really made your rounds with the villagers.”

“i’d say it’s been alright,” you mumble. you haven’t been the biggest fan of lewis since the underwear incident, and you had heard from touya that the mayor keeps a solid gold statue of himself in his backyard. paid out of taxpayer money, he chuckled. you decided you didn’t like lewis all that much after that. “cleaning up the community centre’s really kept me busy.”

he hums. “well, i just wanted to inform you of the festival of ice happening the day after tomorrow,” his face burrows deeper into his thick layer of scarf, words muffled slightly. “we all gather for the annual fishing competition. i heard elliot’s participating this year, so willy might finally have some competition.”

lewis laughs, so you feel the need to follow with your own soft chuckle. “everyone’ll be there,” he continues, and you doubt it. tomura hasn’t shown up for any of the festival events since that day, not even the spirit’s eve festival. (“it’s his favourite festival,” himiko whined. “where the fuck is he?”) “making igloos, snowgoons; it’s a wonderful time in the snow. i hope i’ll see you there.”

you manage as much of a grin as you can without it looking like a grimace. “i’ll try my best,” you tell him. not that i have anything else to do.

he nods, smiling, before turning back around to walk away. “oh,” he continues. “if you could get that troublesome tomura to come back finally, that would be great.”

you’re standing there in pathetic silence as you watch him walk away. troublesome tomura. you feel your fist clench— as if he knew anything about tomura. as if you knew anything about tomura. the boy is an enigma, you’d decided long, long ago. one untameable, unsolvable.

you can’t say you haven’t seen him since that night. he’s popped up in the crevices of the valley, but neither of you have the good will or courage to come up to one another. you walk past each other as if you don’t know each other. you ignore his voice. you tune out his footsteps. it’s not often that you see him in your peripherals but it happens enough.

but it’s still beyond you why. you only followed his lead, only kept your head down because he did first. did you do something wrong? touya and himiko reassure you otherwise, but exchange their own looks of worry when you ask whether he’s met up with them. “no,” touya confesses. “we haven’t had the opportunity too. he’s back to making robin make up excuses for him.”

so it’s not just you. at this point you’re getting frustrated at how he’s handling all of this, rolling your eyes whenever you find yourself wondering how he is. he’s dramatic, that’s what he is.

but when you get to the cindersap forest the day after the next, he’s there. tomura’s there, bundled up in his black coat and his dark grey hoodie peeking under. his hands are shoved into the pockets of his coat, burrowing his chin into a red and black striped scarf. he’s standing by touya and himiko, and looking at them it feels like nothing has changed. like he hasn’t disappeared for two whole seasons, leaving you in the dust.

do you go up to him? do you leave him to it, be the first to apologise? you busy yourself with making your rounds around the forest, commenting on penny’s snowgoon, robin’s ice sculptures. you laugh with willy about the ice fishing competition, and how now that you and elliot are playing, his title of undefeated champion might finally be rescinded. you do everything in your power to turn away from eyes you know are looking at you, burning into your back.

and it’s not until hours later, when the excitement has died down and the children have tired themselves out that tomura comes to you.

“hi,” you hear, his voice scratchy and mellow. why does your chest ache when you hear it? “you… did well during the fishing competition.”

you snort at that. typical of him to try and make idle conversation when there’s a much bigger conversation to be dealt with. “thanks,” you murmur. “didn’t win though.”

“well,” he shoves his hands deeper into his coat pockets. “it’s hard to beat willy.”

you’re standing together at the edge of the forest, looking out upon the gray-navy sea. it’s high up, the cliff you stand on, one slip could send you tumbling down the rocky slope of untouched earth and rock, but you sit down anyway, letting your legs hang over the edge. “elliot was close.”

“you were too.” he sits next to you, and you can feel, despite the chill of the winter night creeping down your neck, your chest begins to warm. it’s quiet, the rivulets of time pouring between the two of you. you want to open your mouth. you want to speak, to say something, to ask. where have you been?

“i took a ride out to zuzu city,” he says as if he read your mind, scratching the back of his neck as he starts. “after that night. just to clear my head.”

you don’t say anything. you’re not sure there is anything to be said. so you root your fingers in the blades of frozen grass and begin to pick at it. ice crumbles in your fingers, melting into little pools of forgotten potential at the warmth of your skin. “and i stayed there for a couple of days.”

so he was out on his motorcycle. you try not to smile at the thought of robin finally telling the truth about tomura’s whereabouts for the first time, and the relief she probably felt. but still, you hang your head and stare out at the white-capped waves, crashing against the shore of the cliff. nothing to be said.

“i…” it’s quiet. his voice is quiet, tentative. “i’ve never been so confused in my life.”

nothing to be said.

“i’ve never,” he pauses and starts repeatedly, like he’s trying to find the right words to console you. like he’s coming up with an excuse on the fly. “i’ve never felt the way i feel about you.”

nothing to be said.

“i’ve never met a person i can be so… comfortable around.”

please, just stop this. you look at him, glance at him for a split second, and you meet his gaze. you don’t know what you look like but you hope it’s all equal parts discomfort and anger and sadness and relief. you want him to shut up, disappear for another two months. you want him to kiss you again, tangle his hands in your hair and never let go. tomura, just stop.

“it made me angry.” you haven’t stopped looking at him, and now the two of you are staring into each other, vermillion eyes deep set, tired. “i was so angry.”

“and so you ran?”

his breath hitches. “yeah. i ran.”

you turn your attention back to the sea, your heels bumping against the rocky edge of the cliff. running away. what an easy way out, you think, from dealing with your problems head-on. but your thought strikes you cold; isn’t that what you did? running from the city to come here, to escape from that which you could never deal with on your own? is it hypocritical of you to tremble with frustration right now, is it ignorant of you to have made up your mind already?

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologise.”

his fingers wrap around your wrist and tugs, just gently to make you stop. “please.” he begs. “look at me.”

silence. you don’t move, and tomura’s grip on your wrist doesn’t either. look at me. look at him? what for? for him to make excuse after excuse, bullshit lie after bullshit lie? but eventually you sigh, leaning back just slightly so you can glance at him from the side.

“i’m sorry. i am. and i know that what i did was selfish, and shitty, and fucked up, and i don’t expect you to forgive me, but i need to say this.” he pauses, clearing his throat. “i… owe a lot to you. and i know that i can’t explain all the shit that i did, but…”

he’s not usually like this. he isn’t being brash, snarky, clipped tones and sarcasm. he’s different, and it’s unnerving how much you don’t recognise him. what have the seasons done to you?

“i’m not a good person,” his voice is shaking, trembling. “i run away from people who scare me, im not nice to people who love me. i feel anxious around touya and himiko; and i know they only mean well but,” his words jumble together in his mouth, until he stops suddenly, taking a deep breath. he flexes his knuckles in front of him, a fidget you noticed of his. “i don’t like to feel— and it terrified me, how much i felt for you. and so i ran. and i know, i know that doesn’t excuse things, but—”

“where did you go?”

he stops short, crimson eyes glimmering. “what?”

you try again, your voice a little more solid. “where did you go?”

the crash of waves below the two of you fill the gap in the conversation. the look of hesitation across tomura’s face, and the eventual resignation. “there’s a cliff in zuzu city that i drive to almost every night,” he begins. “and i’d drive around to the city, and stay there for a day or two.” his eyes flicker up to the sky, watching the clouds graze by, pulling his chapped bottom lip between his teeth.

“take me there.”

he looks at you, and you’re glimmering. you’re looking at him with hard eyes, your brow furrowed and upset, cheeks flushed. but under your anger there’s a hint of curiosity, hint of relief that swims across the gloss of your eyes. his breath leaves him in a shudder, and you watch the condensation of the cold air flit in a wispy cloud up into the space between you.

“now?”

“yeah.”

stardew valley passes you in a blur of hazy orange glow and twinkling lights. tomura slung his helmet over your head much to your chagrin, murmuring against your protests. “i’ll be fine,” he shrugged. “i’ve ridden without a helmet plenty of times.”

and now the wind is whipping through the sleeves of your shirt, arms wrapped tight around tomura’s torso as you watch the scenery zip by. it’s late at night; the valley is asleep, save for some homely warm glows in the windows of some houses, but for the most part, the journey to zuzu city is desolate.

you’ve never been on a motorcycle before. it’s surprising how calm you feel, even without the familiar claustrophobia of a car or a bus, little leather strap stretching across your body to keep you from flinging out of your seat. but here, on this bumpy road, hanging on to tomura with your cheek pressed against the thick plastic of the helmet pressing against his back, you feel peaceful.

tomura smells like strawberry gum and laundry detergent. his coat, probably buried at the back of his closet till the seasonal need for it to shelter him away from whipping winds comes around, smells stale, but still the same comfort comes to you. “you okay back there?” he asks, loudly over the screaming wind.

“‘m fine,” you reply, leaning up to the back of his neck to tell him.

he shivers. blinks for just a beat too long, before letting go of another stuttered breath. your hands are so warm against the thin cotton of his hoodie, fingers hooded by knitted wool, while his hands, white-knuckled, stretching over the handles of his bike, are slowly numbing. what if he shoved them in your mouth, let them warm up a little bit?

shakes the thought out of his head. concentrates on driving, the rhythmic pattern of your breathing, the feeling of you pressed up against him. tomura looks up at the sky and begins to wonder how he managed to stay so far, for so long.

dirt kicks up behind you as tomura slows his bike to a stop, kicking the stand to rest it. he slides off the side, holding out his hand for you. you look at his hand, bony and pale, his palm upturned to the sky, and take it.

the tips of his fingers are cold. you lean into them, the chill of the winter night seeping into your bones through the knits of your sweater. “thanks.” you murmur, sliding off the seat and taking a step forward. your hands remain in each other’s.

your surroundings are bleak, trees scattered with a grey tone path leading up into a clearing. “do we…” your voice trails off, looking up and around. the greyish sky seems to sigh, wind curling through the leaves. tall, thick trees with dark oak trunks stretch to the clouds, branches raised like they’re praising the moon. “huh,” you let out airily, your attention caught.

“come on,” he hurries you along, stepping forward on the marked out path. “you wanted to see this, didn’t you?”

this, refers to the clearing. refers to the edge of the dirt track, the edge of a precarious cliff that dangles over the valley. miles and miles of navy void lead to the dazzling view of zuzu city, illuminated glittering golden in the moonlight. you swear the light is swimming, swirling around in mismatched patterns, like stars. you take a tentative step forward, tomura’s fingers tightening around yours, and you breathe in the cold air. you can’t help but look, look, look, watch the world and not be a part of it. the comfort in knowing the world moves on without you, and the terror that it moves on without you.

“it’s nice,” tomura starts. “just to come here and think.” his fingers are twitching, itching for something to hold in between them. “i spent a lot of time here.”

the sheen of grey that washes over the both of you makes you glance up, the gaze of the full moon daunting upon you. a deity, the only being privy to the moment between you and tomura. “how did you find this place?” you ask.

“just driving around,” he drops to a squat before lowering himself onto the ground, patting the space next to him. you hesitate for a moment, but he continues anyway. “i noticed the dirt track out by the turning just now. followed it all the way here.”

you stand, arms folded across your body as you watch the moon. it’s a calm sort of peace that settles between the two of you, and you find yourself moving to sit next to him before you can tell yourself to stop. you leave a foot of space between your bodies, and when you look up at him, he’s looking at you too.

“when i didn’t wanna talk to touya or himi, i’d tell my mom to make excuses for me,” he starts, and you have to smile just a little, letting out a small i know. that makes him flush, stuttering over his thoughts. “i just- i’ve never really wanted to be around people sometimes. being alone is… comforting. peaceful.”

he catches your unimpressed stare, and his lips tighten. “i know. i know, it was shitty what i did.”

“at least you’re aware.”

“it was just- weird,” he says, pausing slightly. “weird because i’ve never wanted to be around someone before.”

tomura’s life has never been one of much company. you learned a lot from robin; that after she and tomura’s father separated, and they moved to pelican town, it wasn’t a smooth sailing journey to where they are now. “he’s never really gotten used to demetrius,” robin told you. “and he treats maru like a stranger.”

“and i don’t want you to think some cheesy shit like you changed me or whatever,” his hands pick at the rocks, the loose debris of the cliff. “but— i don’t… know. it’s so confusing.”

you find your tongue in the silence. “why did you come back now?” you don’t look at him, eyes trained on the horizon, where the sky meets the ground. “why now?”

he mumbles something, a little under his breath. it’s incomprehensible over the whistle of the wind.

“what?”

“... ..sed you.”

“tomura, god—”

“i missed you! okay? is that what you wanted to fuckin’ hear? i missed you and your stupid farm and your stupid cat and i wanted to see you again.”

there he is. you feel yourself breaking, the exterior you put up while he was away, chipping debris by debris until it falls away, tomura sitting on the other side. haloed by the silvery shards of moonlight. you look at him, and laugh.

you can’t help it. you can’t help the soft giggles that erupted from your mouth, ruby eyes turning sharply to glare at you. “oh? is that funny to you? stupid farmer,” he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. his hair, a little closer to white than it is to blue now, is billowing in the wind, long and thunderous.

you sober up, softening by his side. “you’re a shit guy for running.”

“i know i am.” he sighs. “i’m sorry i did that.”

you can’t say it’s okay. because it isn’t. it was two whole months you spent wondering what you did wrong, two whole months touya, himiko, and robin had to reassure you he’ll come home soon, he’s okay. it’s two months of safety you couldn’t affirm, two months of nights where all you could do was stare out of your window and wonder when he would come home again. so you don’t say that.

“will you run again?”

tomura is quiet. his lips are pressed tightly together, eyes scarlet and gaze wavering. “i… no,” he whispers. “i don’t want to anymore. but,” he moves closer to you, looking at you. “i can’t promise that.”

your shoulders relax, despite his hesitance. because the seasons have changed him, the valley has changed him. he’s jaded, he’s all jagged edges and sharp teeth, glaring gazes and vermillion fear. but you lay a gentle hand on his, and he seems to melt, dripping at the seams. like liquid wax, singing the flesh of your skin. the kind that’s sticky, runny, pools where your fingers meet his.

let me stay by you. let me hold you as you feel, let you feel things for the first time. you can’t find the tongue to say those things, so you keep your hand in his, quiet, still, unmoving. it feels like seconds, aeons before he moves, ever closer to you, until your foreheads knock together.

“stay,” you whisper. “you don’t have to promise me. just tell me you’ll stay.” and if you lie, that’s okay.

his breath shudders, scarlet eyes heavy. “i’ll stay,” he murmurs back. “i’m not going to run anymore.”

there’s a crackle, low in the pits of your chest, darkness illuminated by a spark. just a single, lovely spark as his eyes meet yours, candour painting his tongue. there’s a softness in his throat as he breathes, and the words you share are lost between you as he pushes forward ever so slightly, catching his lips to yours. tomura envelopes you, body and soul, a large hand splayed across the little of your back. he’s pulling you, as he does, into his field of gravity, into his body, until there’s not an inch of space that dallies between the two of you. his other hand finds the curve of your cheek, tilting your face up to slot his mouth against yours, noses bumping against each other. you can't help the giggle that bubbles past your lips, swallowed by his mouth, your own hands scooping under his to lay gently on his back.

it’s calm, electrifying. it’s all the good things tomura has ever known and loved, rolled into one as he heaves you on top of him, a momentary break between kisses as you brush his hair back behind his ear, tangling your fingers in soft strands. “stay,” you say again, the movement of your lips dragging your skin against his. “stay with me.”

and he kisses you again, hands wrapping around you and holding you tight, like he’s sinking his fingers into your skin, marking you, clutching you so you won’t slip away. i won’t, you promise, through the arching of your mouths, the grip on his coat. you’re making all these promises, all these vows to him in your mind. you’re begging him to stay, to feel for you like you feel for him.

and, and, and. “i’ll stay,” he whispers, frantically, his hands scrambling for the hem of your sweater. “i’ll stay, fuck, i will.”

you know these are words coloured in passion, spoken in the heat of the moment. you know he doesn’t really mean them, but for a night, you can pretend he does. you can pretend this is your happily ever after, you can pretend you’ll never have to worry that he’ll leave. because from the way he’s chasing you down, swallowing your spit and your breath, it feels true. it feels honest, and beautiful, and new. tomura kisses and touches and reaches for you, like you’re all the love he’s ever been privy to. and you’re so generous, you’re letting him take, and take, and take, let his hands, cold to the touch and tips icy ruck under your sweater. you gasp into his mouth as his skin makes contact with yours, touches greedy and clumsy but you don’t care, can’t care. you’d give him everything, give him the whole world plattered on your body if you could.

“‘s so warm,” he murmurs, lips trailing from your lips to your jaw, nudging your face up to plant his lips against the column of your neck. “you’re so warm.”

a little sound escapes you, one between a whine and a moan, and you tangle your fingers tighter into the fabric of his coat. “tomu, tomu,” you hips shift and suddenly— fuck, you feel it. he catches you, catches the hitch in your breath when your hips drag over the strain in his pants. you can feel him, feel the fruition of his desire through the rough denim of his jeans. “you’re- you’re hard.”

“of course i am,” he sneers, lips wrapping around the chilly skin of your shoulders. “look what you fuckin’ do to me.”

you laugh softly, planting your hands on his shoulders and rolling, up and down against the bulge of his pants. it drags along your own cunt, and the both of you hiss; it’s excruciating, his sharp bones and pale hands against your soft flesh, pulling you closer to him. he rocks you, slowly against his cock, and you stutter through a moan.

“look how hard you make me,” he whispers, lips brushing against the hood of your ear. “fuckin’— it’s all for you.”

“all for me,” you repeat back to him, a little dazed, a little dreamy. “i wan’— i wanna— see.”

“see?” he pulls away from you for a second, ruby eyes finding yours. your eyes are glazed, just a little, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, and he thinks you’ve never looked cuter. “you wanna see what?”

“you,” you breathe, his hands still guiding you over his cock. it’s infuriating, the friction of his denim-hidden bulge against the cotton of your pants, catching roughly against your clit. it hurts, but you don’t mind it; as much as you can have, as he’ll give you. you’ll take it. “your cock, wanna see your cock.”

tomura curses. scarlet going awry, heaving you off of him for just a minute as he undoes the button of his jeans. “wanna see my cock? you gonna suck me off, pretty girl?”

you whine. “let me, let me,” you paw at his thighs, helping him shimmy them down his jeans. looking up at him, your breath’s caught in your throat; the dusty silver of the moon weaves through his hair, illuminating it a soft blue. and he’s looking at you, really looking at you, burning bright with such want that it makes you shiver. “you’re so pretty,” you drawl, your fingers flexing over his thighs.

he scoffs, letting your fingers be the ones that peel the elastic of his waistband from his hips. “‘m not pretty.” he huffs, leaning back on his hands as he watches you. “you’re fuckin’— fuck, baby,” a groan claws past his lips as you press kisses up the length of his cloth-covered cock, peeling the cotton back just a tiny bit to reveal the flushed tip of his cock. your mouth waters at the sight of him, pale, skinny but long, tip flushing a deep red.

you can’t stop looking. it’s almost as pretty as him, delicate veins forking up the underside toward the head. you can’t stop looking, as the tip oozes pearly beads of precum. “fuck,” you murmur, your thighs clenching subconsciously. “tomura, holy fuck.”

his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling roughly at the roots. “don’t just stare at it, suck me off,” he tries to pass it off as an order, a command— but it’s laced with a whine, dripping out of his throat with a lacquer of desperation.

you smile at him, watery and needy and obedient, dropping your jaw just enough to fit the tip of his cock into your mouth and you moan. at the taste of him, salty and tangy and you lap it up. the weight of his cock, hefty of your tongue, makes you feel whole. you feel him shake, staggered breath exhaled from his mouth, and when you look up, he’s already looking at you.

“look at you,” he murmurs, full of mirth, full of adoration. his palm comes to curve against the swell of your cheek, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. “so fuckin’ pretty. god, your mouth is so warm.” tomura holds your face in place as he bucks his hips up into your mouth, a groan falling from his lips, followed by sorry, sorry, fuck it just feels so good. you smile around him, letting him fuck into your mouth with the eagerness and excitement you’d never seen from him. you let him push your head down, nose nestled against the dark curls that line his tummy, sparse and ticklish against your skin.

if he notices you gag, he doesn’t show it. just tangles his fingers into your hair and pushes, a deep groan slashing through the cold, quiet night. you choke a little, eyes watering as you struggle to breathe, and eventually he allows you solace; letting you pop off his cock with a loud smack and a gasp for air.

tomura looks at you with love in his eyes. swollen lips, glassy eyes, you’re fucked out, and he hasn’t even fuckin’ touched you yet. “my pretty girl,” he murmurs, drawing his thumb against the seam of your lips. “fuck, did that all for me? took it all so well for me?”

and you can’t do anything but nod, but whine for him to let you continue, let you suck him off until he’s coating the back of your throat with white hot cum. “you sure?” he asks, gentle mirth under his tone. “only if you want to—”

“i want to,” you cut him off, lowering yourself again to press your cheek against his denim-clad thigh. “you taste so good.”

tomura flushes, a deep pink scattered across his cheeks that he could have passed off as a chill from the cold night. but instead he pulls you in to kiss you, to taste the lingering saltiness of his precum off your tongue. he kisses you like his life depends on it, clutching the back of your neck to hold you steady against him.

“go on then,” he whispers. “be a good, good toy for me.”

it’s like a duty, now. you take him into your mouth, the fat tip of it pressing up against the back of your throat. you focus all you can into not choking, not gagging around him, taking as much of him as you can down your throat. and he helps you along, with a gentle hand wrapped around the nape of your neck, his hips snapping forward into your mouth. “that’s it,” he hisses. “that’s my girl.”

you moan, shuddering around his cock, peering up at him through clumped lashes, and tears brimming along your waterline. crystal tears spill onto your cheeks as you take more and more of him into your mouth, until it’s not by his hand that you’re pressed against his pelvis, but by your own accord. you’re fucking drooling, spit pooling at the base of his cock as you slacken your jaw to accommodate his cock, the tip of it pushing right up against the back of your throat.

“fuck,” tomura curses, hips bucking up. “‘m gonna cum if you keep— fuck, move. move your head, please,” his hands coming round again to cup your cheek, guiding your mouth along the length of his cock. pitchy and whiny; that’s all you can describe his voice at, weakening and loosening around the seams until he’s breaking apart, mewling for you to keep like that, just like that. fuuuck, yes. yes, yes—

when tomura cums, he cums heavy. thick, white, warm cum seeping into your mouth, filling you faster than you can swallow. he groans, slinging his arm across his eyes, panting.

you pull off of his cock, watching it soften slowly, still oozing pearls of cum. “i—” you start, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“you’re fuckin’ amazing,” he breathes, heaving you onto his lap, and you’re hyperaware of his softening cock right against you right now, but he pays it no mind. “so perfect, baby.”

those words make your heart pound, the inner volition to make him feel good fluttering in your stomach, kerosene coating the lining of your stomach, threatening to start alight. ”did you…was that alright?”

“more than alright,” he murmurs against your skin, nibbling on your shoulder gently. “you did perfect.”

your thighs rub together at the sound of his praise, mewling softly and you tug against the fabric of his hoodie. tomura coos, pulls you closer to him and rocks you back and forth on his lap, letting your breathing return to normal. his fingers skirt down your back, his lips brushing against your ear. “wanna take care of this,” he whispers, and you’re suddenly aware of the uncomfortable wetness between your legs, slick practically pooling in your panties. “let’s go home?”

you want to say no. you want to shake your head, slip your panties to the side and impale yourself on the cock that’s twitching (and beginning to get hard again). but the rational side of you remembers the winter cold, and the full moon hung up high in the middle of the sky, signalling twilight. he tucks himself back into his boxers, and then looks back at you.

“soon,” you whisper, burying your face into his shoulder. “just a few more minutes.”

tomura wraps his arms around your midriff. “okay,” he murmurs. “just a few minutes.”

the ride home is anything but quiet. you try not to distract him as he drives, but you can’t help but press your cheek against his back, his coat now donned over your shoulders when you let slip one small comment about how you were cold. you can feel the faint thrum of his heartbeat through his hoodie, the knobs of his spine curving in and out.

tomura thinks he’s faint, the image of you with his cock barely fitting in your mouth burned into the back of his eyelids, and every time he closes his eyes, he has to clutch the handles of his motorcycle to regain control. white-knuckled and jaw clenched, he tries to relax. tries to drive through the valley without a rigid posture, but he can’t. not while you’re sitting there in a puddle of your own slick, not while your arms are wrapped around his torso. not while he can feel your cheek, the warmth of your body melting into his through the worn cotton of his hoodie.

you’re exhausted, your breathing steady as your eyelids droop. but you’re enamoured by the lights, whizzing by you as tomura drives down highways. the streets begin to feel familiar, the same greenery you wake up to every day starting to enter your vision. “you okay?” he calls loudly over the wind.

“all good,” you call back, reaching your neck up to smile against his neck.

he pulls into the bus stop instead of the path leading to the carpenter’s shop, and you look at him a little weird as he plants one foot on the dirt. “shouldn’t you drive back—”

“it’s closer to your house,” he explains, sliding off the seat. “c’mon.”

he offers you his hand again and you take it, but this time you let it fall between you, fingers curling around each other’s. you pull him in the direction of your farmhouse, the valley quiet save for your soft giggles and tomura’s smiles, shaking his head at you. the step below you creaks as you step up towards the door of your cabin.

“i…” you begin, but can’t find the right words. “i feel like we’ve been here before.”

you have. tomura remembers too, the setting sun in summer, the smell of spice as you bounded up the steps of your farmhouse, tossing your head back to look at him. the aftermath of your first kiss in the cave. the moment he realised he was in deeper than he had ever planned to be.

bitterness is heavy on his tongue. the memory of the way his lips curved around the words, i can’t. can he, now? can he now, two seasons later, as snow threatens to bless you? as you look at him with hopeful yet resigned eyes? isn’t the canyon between expectation and hope a ruthless one?

“we have.” he finds himself saying.

i’ll stay. fuck, i will.

“tomura,” you begin. “will you come in?”

tomura has never known love, feeling like he has with you. tomura has never been one to back down from his word. tomura is fire that burns a bright blue, icy where it should be ferocious, and somehow it is more fearful to be unfamiliar than to be dangerous.

but you are the glow of the sunset, when you close your eyes and the orange permeates through your flesh through a warm radiance. you are gentle love and fierce passion. you are everything he’s ever wanted but never could be.

and here you are, your hand in his, waiting for an answer.

a new day, a new dawn.

“yeah,” he whispers, letting his foot step up toward you. “yeah, i’ll come in.”

it begins to snow right as you fall into bed together. the gentle drifting of the winter wind beats against your windows, a soft whistle as a draft blows in. it’s lovely, a cool breeze against the warmth of your radiator, skirting up your legs and his back and the way he presses you into your mattress.

temptress. you’re a temptress, all whines and mewls and soft pants as he grips your chin in his hand. “you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he all but groans, fingers drifting back down to your cum covered pussy, slick with spit. “look at me. look at me.”

vermillion meets your desperate gaze, looking up at him with need painted all over your face. your eyebrows pinched, your mouth agape. “please,” is all you can say. all you can beg, and you don’t even know what for. “please, tomura.”

you’re giving up the reins. you’re powerless for the night, something you’ve never even thought about doing. all your life, it’s been about you, what you could do to make people happy, what you could do to make life livable. you’ve never for a day let yourself rest. you’ve never let yourself go.

until now. until pale hands are trailing down your body, the plush flesh of your torso, the curve of your hips. until you’re bucking up to meet him, arching to pull his face down to meet yours. all for you, only for you.

and tomura doesn’t know what to do with it. doesn’t know how to hold so much love and adoration even in his big, big palms. he touches you like this is the only chance he’ll ever get (and right now, it feels that way.) he digs his fingers into the pudge of your thighs, he holds you like you’ll crumble to dust. he’s so overwhelmed. all for me? all this, he thinks as he watches you through half lidded eyes, breathing uneven. you’re splayed out on your bed, the iridescent glow of the moon outlining your desire. your pussy lies before him, slick and sticky and waiting to be filled.

he doesn’t know what to do with himself. has he ever thought, or even dreamt of this? he never expected to be here, kneeling before you, hands privy to the plains and valleys of your body. pastures of unmarked skin, your hands calloused from farm work and your skin covered in sheen of sweat. “tomura,” he hears you call, and he drifts back into this daydream with you. “tomura, what is it?”

it’s different. he can’t summon that low timbre of his voice, can’t manifest that confidence he had in that clearing. because now he sees, understands just how much you’re willing to give him. and he’s suddenly hit with the revelation; how much he would give to have you, be with you every night.

love is so unfamiliar to him. feeling anything that isn’t annoyance, anger, resentment; he’s never been privy to such a delicate feeling, a gentle hand on his cheek. your hand on his cheek. “tomu,” you whisper.

crystalline tears. pale cheeks, scarlet eyes. “let me,” he all but begs. “let me have you, please.”

and you can’t help but smile. “you have me,” you promise. “you have me, tomura.”

the head of his cock catches against the small slit of your cunt, and you both gasp into each other’s mouths, your back arching into his chest. “fuck,” he curses, shifting slightly and he slides home. works his cock into you inch by inch until you’re mewling, grasping for purchase on your sheets, on his shoulders, down his back. “fuck, you’re t-tight.” his voice breaks into a pitchy whine, ripping through his scratched up throat.

“t-tomura,” you gasp, can’t keep your mouth closed with the force of his hips slamming against your pelvis. “i— s-slow…”

“can’t,” he breathes, pressing his sweat-slick forehead to yours. “s-sorry, fuck, can’t stop,” your bed is creaking with the sheer force of his thrusts, his movements, and you’re powerless to do anythingbut lie there and take it. lie there and let him mould your cunt into the shape of his cock, lie there and let him bully your already-sore pussy. he’s so deep you feel like you can’t breathe, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you take, take, take.

his big, big palm snakes under your body, pulling you, willing you ever closer to him until the air between the two of you is non existent. you’re pressed together, skin to skin to burning skin, and he won’t have it any other way. he’s burying his face into the crook of your shoulder, rutting his hips into yours. it’s clumsy, it’s messy, but it’s still earth shattering to you. he pours every bit of his need, his desire into his touches, love bleeding through his fingertips. “is this okay?” he whispers into your damp skin. “tell me it’s okay.”

“yes, yes,” you barely choke out, each breath of yours fucked out of your throat. “keep— d-don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“i won’t,” he swears. the lewd squelching of your skin slapping, the wet juncture where you two are connected aligns with your laboured breathing, the tiny whines and moans that he forces out of you with every move.

your legs are shaking. “can you…” your words drift off into a small gasp, and you decide to let touch speak for you. you take his hand from where he’d planted it next to your head. “f-feel,” you command him, guiding his palm to your navel. “‘s you.”

tomura almost cums on the spot. loses all his breath as he presses down on your flesh, feeling the bulge in your tummy as he pushes in and pulls out. “fuck,” he grunts, sudden energy coursing loudly through his ears. “fuck. ‘s me, isn’t it? you feel it deep, sweets?”

sweets. you shudder at the nickname, letting a small whine fall from your wrecked throat. “feel it, feel it,” you nod pathetically, your legs twitching. “feel it in my tummy.”

you’re gonna be the death of him, he swears. he’s going to die by your hand, by your voice and your words, melancholy and mellow, sweet and generous. laced with the poison of butterflies, wings fluttering in his chest. “g-good,” he stutters over his words, the clench of your gummy walls around his raw dick making him stagger. “good fuckin’ girl.”

you mewl, pulling him closer to you. he falls, falls into your chest, your plush skin under his fingers, pushing and pulling you apart. uncoordinated, but you don’t care. you open your eyes to meet his, and you swear you could see the hearts that form in his pupils. “tomura,” you whisper. “‘m close.”

“me too,” he grunts. “you gonna be good for me? gonna cum?”

you squeak as he speaks, crude and crass language sending heat straight to your abused pussy. “y-yes, gonna, gonna—” your words turn to a mewl as he begins to move, rutting even deeper inside of you. it’s dizzying, exhilarating, the pace and the strength he’s using, his plush cockhead kissing your cervix with every thrust. “tomu- ah!”

“not gonna last long if you keep squeezing me like this,” he pants, hands coming up to plant next to your head. “‘m— fuck, baby, what did i jus’ fuckin’ say?”

“can’t help it!” you cry, bucking your hips upward to meet his thrusts. “please, please, cum with me. c-cum, inside, inside.”

he shouldn’t. he knows he shouldn’t. he’s raw, in your unprotected pussy, tearing you apart, in half, into pieces. you’re drunk on him, your mind clearly too fogged up to think properly. but he can’t stop moving, can’t when your warm, gooey pussy keep sucking him back up. he seethes, “say it again. say it again.”

“cum inside,” you whisper, and it’s like a command. it’s ridiculous, just how much your sweet, soft voice compels him to grant your every wish. he cums, cums, cums so heavy, breath stuttering and voice cracking as he rides out his orgasm in you, spilling white and warm in your sticky pussy. “yes, yes,” you chant softly, words almost incoherent to him.

tomura doesn’t stop. can’t stop, not only you’ve come for the second time tonight around his cock. he keeps moving, fucks you to the point of his own stimulation, the slow drag of his raw cock almost painful. but he keeps going, fingertips reaching down to rub at your clit. he makes the mistake of glancing down, catching sight of the place where he disappears inside of you.

fuck. you’re frothing, creaming around the base of his cock, his own cum leaking down out the sides of where you’re stuffed full. he can feel himself twitching, a shuddering breath releasing. “baby, baby.”

“i’m gonna cum,” you whisper. you’re barely audible over the sound of skin hitting skin, and he would have missed it if he wasn’t buried into the side of your neck, ear brushing the dry skin of your lips. “g-gonna, gonna cum—”

you’re so quiet. you’re so heavenly, mewling and whining softly as you cum apart. your eyes flutter closed, eyebrows pinching as you cum, pussy clenching around his half hard cock still inside of you. scarlet eyes watch you as you come undone around him, your body tensing before relaxing, your pretty face desperate.

“cum so pretty,” he absent-mindedly blurts out. “so fuckin’ pretty.”

you smile at him, eyes dazed and dreamy. “thank you,” you whisper. “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

tomura watches you sleep that night.

you fall asleep before him. it’s not that he can’t sleep; god, he’s exhausted. all he wants to do is wrap himself against your back and fall into dreamland right behind you, but he forces himself to stay awake, just for a little while more.

he watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyes are so delicately closed, the occasional twitch making him rigid, scared that he’s accidentally woken you up. but you don’t stir, just sleep.

stardew valley is soft and mellow in the wee hours of the night. tomura’s never seen himself in bed before 3, not since he had work to do, or games to play. he watches you sleep, stares at your back. he’s familiar with this sliver of moonlight that creeps in through the crack of your curtains, and lays privy to this moment between two lovers.

lovers?

are you lovers?

he falls asleep, face settled against your back, the word nestled in his throat.

in the barn. - tomu

the morning is cold. you shove on your clothes and your coat on top of that, looking out the window at the cloudless sky, not even a hint of cotton in its endlessly blue horizon. you see footsteps leading out of the cabin and towards the barns, and you smile to yourself.

you follow the footsteps, several inches of snow crunching under your boot, and you can hear the satisfied moos and bleats of your animals before you even approach the open door. you keep a small giggle to yourself as you watch tomura, his hair messily tied up into a haphazard bun, in his hoodie and sweatpants laying hay for your animals.

“busy morning?” you lean against the wooden doorframe, watching him. he tosses you a glance over his shoulder, and your chest flutters; soft set vermillion, his rosy cheeks, a blush at the tip of his nose, god your fingers are itching to touch him.

“mornin’, farmer,” he calls, his voice crystal and clear as day. “i just wanted to help you get a headstart on your day.”

whatever response you had, snarky or loving, dies in your throat. “oh,” you mumble, soft keys pressing into the still morning air. “thank you.” you feel your feet moving before you can stop them, and you meet him halfway in the middle of your barn, surrounded by hungry cows and pigs and sheep. “how do you… feel?”

he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “i should be asking you that,” he murmurs. “i wasn’t too… rough, was i?”

you shake your head no. “you were perfect.”

he smiles gently. “you were, too.”

a sigh, a breaking boundary as you cross into his space, craning your neck up to press a soft kiss to his lips. he drops the hay in his hand, wrapping his arms around your midriff and pulling you closer to him, forcing you on your tiptoes and he deepens the kiss, pushing, pushing, pushing.

you whimper into his mouth. “you’re insatiable,” you manage to choke out between kisses, his lips nudging your chin up for access to your neck.

“can’t help it,” he mocks you from last night, and you roll your eyes, letting your eyelids flutter shut.

you spend your day together, working on the farm, sneaking kisses here and there. laughing, giggling across fields of barren land, the snow caking most of your farm, making it hard to move. but it’s okay; as he leads you with your hand in his, you’d move across lands and seas, follow him to the ends of the world.

a spark, burning bright in the middle of your body. illuminating all around you. and tomura steps into your light, and stays.

stays, and stays, and stays.

keeps his promise, and stays.

tomura’s birthday comes the next day. it’s a little last minute, since he only came back two days before, on the festival of ice. but still, you, touya, and himiko manage to pull together a small celebration with his family.

you and himiko spend the morning baking his cake; a vanilla shortcake, with loads and loads of frosting. you run home to the farmhouse to get some of the strawberries you’d saved just for this, slicing them with the blade against your palm.

“so what happened?” himiko asks, whisking the bowl of ingredients. she’s fantastical; no matter how vigorous or rough she’s stirring, nothing ever ends up outside the mixing bowl. “you guys just left the festival together. tell me, tell me! did you guys make up? did you guys make out?”

you flush. of course himiko was going to ask you this; you shouldn’t have held onto any expectation that she wouldn’t. “we… talked things out,” yeah, talked to his cock in your mouth.

“yeah, obviously.” she snaps her bubblegum, setting down the mixing bowl. “if you hadn’t he wouldn't be here right now. we wouldn’t be bakin’ a fuckin’ cake.”

you laugh, setting down your knife and picking up the mixing bowl. “this all done?” you ask, and himiko nods. you begin to lay the batter into the lined pan, thumping it so there aren’t any air bubbles.

“c’mon, spill!” she demands.

“there’s nothing to spill,” you lie through your teeth. you don’t know if tomura wants anything to be out in the open right now. you don’t know if you want anything to be out in the open right now. “you’ll be the first person to know when there is.”

if himiko can tell you’re lying she doesn’t bring it up. just carries on with the next topic of conversation and whirls the cake into its finished state. you text touya, ready?

tomura’s room smells of vanilla and candle wax as you hold his birthday cake up to him, letting everyone behind you sing. he’s smiling, a real, genuine smile, the apples of his cheeks plumping as a grin breaks out across his face. your heart softens just watching him, and you want to lean forward over the flickering candle flame and kiss him.

but you can’t; not while everyone’s surrounding you, gentle smiles and words in joy and prosperity. so instead you hum softly with everyone’s tune, and position the cake just right for him to blow out the candles.

when you look up from the mesmerising waver of the candles to look at him, he’s looking right back at you. thank you, he mouths, amber flickering in his ruby eyes, glistening and so, so beautiful.

you can’t stop the small smile that paints your lips. you’re welcome.

the chatter slowly dies down as the night falls away. it had been you, himiko, touya, and the rest of tomura’s family all crammed into the small of his bedroom, laughing and sharing cake and drinks. robin and demetrius retired to bed, as did maru, leaving the four of you huddled on tomura’s small bed.

it’s small talk and gentle laughter, a bottle of wine that touya brought handed from person to person. you don’t drink- not usually, anyway- but you take a small swig every time it comes to you.

tomura’s hands are situated, carefully and cleverly behind you, the two of you side by side with you backs to the wall, himiko in front of you and touya next to her. cake lays half-eaten in front of you, bits of frosting smeared on the sheets. tomura sneered at it, mumbling about how drying sheets is so troublesome in the winter. but your hands, your fingers gently resting against the back of his palm, settles his mood and evens his breathing.

you tend to sit back on these conversations, let these childhood friends talk and laugh it out. you enjoy just watching them, mirthful glances back and forth, the occasional question coming to you, like what kind of comics do you read? or do you have enough heating in your cabin?

it’s slow, it’s lovely. you feel the hours tick by as you hear them chatter, eyelids slowly drooping. you hear your name murmured, and you tune in for just a second. “so,” touya starts. “what’s going on with you two?”

you look at them through half-cracked eyelids. “nuffin’,” you mumble.

tomura looks at you, eyebrows pinched, but says nothing.

“do you not want them to know?”

touya and himiko took their leave after several hours, bidding you both goodbye. himiko swooped down to press chaste kisses on your cheeks, and touya wrapped his long, lanky arms around you in a warm hug. “you not gonna go home yet?” he whispered.

“no,” you smiled. “you guys go on first.”

tomura looks at you now, hands clearing the cake off his bed. he grabs a tissue, scoring the frosting off the sheets.

“hm?” you hum, helping him along.

“you don’t want them to know?” he asks again, eyes soft, but worried. “you said there was nothin’ going on. are you… ashamed of me?”

you look at him, blasphemy pouring through your expression. “what? no!” you rush to cup his cheeks gently in your palms. “i just– i didn’t know if you wanted me to say anything, i just— i’m sorry, we can—”

“baby,” the low timbre of his voice stops you in your tracks, and he can’t help the small smile the breaks out of his lips. “hey. hey. stop rambling.” tomura’s palms come up to envelop yours, nuzzling his face into your palms. “i just got worried.”

“you don’t have to be,” you peer up at him, eyes wide. “if you want to tell them– we can do that, we can—”

“you’re tipsy, aren’t you?”

you hit his chest. “i barely had anything to drink!”

“lightweight,” he chuckles, swaying you over to his bed. “you talk too much.”

“you’re so fuckin’ mean,” you groan, the both of you collapsing on his tiny bed, and you end up on top of him. your legs straddle his thigh, his arms tight around your midriff. “i don’t like you anymore.”

he laughs. “what are you, five?” he dips his head downwards to press a small kiss to your nose. “need me to take care of you, is that it?”

you shake your head vehemently. “i’ll take care of you,” you puff out your chest, sitting up on his lap. “up, up, c’mere.” he groans as you pull him up by his arms, long and lanky and slightly toned. you take hold of his sweater, instructing him to lift his arms as you pull it off, tossing it behind you.

“what about you?” he asks, fingers playing with the hem of your own sweater.

but you shake your head. “‘s your birthday,” you remind him. “wanna take care of you first.” your shaky fingers fumble with the buttons of his jeans, and he chuckles, helping you along.

“you don’t have to,” he says, wearily. “you don’t need to do anything for me—”

“i want to, tomura,” you whimper, pulling his jeans down his thighs. it still makes your nervous, seeing his cock, the pretty length of it, curved slightly to the side. makes your tummy ache, your chest flutter with anticipation. today is no different, as you pull the elastic down to free his cock, half hard and flushing pink. your breath hitches, mouth practically salivating.

you line the underside of his cock with gentle, featherlight kisses, letting your tongue poke out of your mouth as you lick from the base of his cock to the tip. he groans, back thumping against the wall as he watches you. he’s convinced you are the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, your eyes gentle and determined as you swivel your tongue along the small slit. “fuck,” he curses, hands coming up to tug at your hair. you huff, pulling off his cock.

“no touching,” you chide him. “this is about me and your cock right now.”

he sneers at you. “what are you gonna do about it?”

it’s so quick, the way you know your way around tomura’s bedroom, know he has a tie lying in his closet, thrown haphazardly over a hanger because his stepdad told him that was the best way to store ties. you pull it off and bound back to where tomura sits, legs spread, his cock twitching at the sight of you looping the tie around your fingers. “give me your hands,” you instruct him, and to your surprise, he puts up no fight. holds his hands out, base of his palms touching, looking up at you with his mouth slightly agape. your breathing hitches, and your next words are tentative on your tongue.

“that’s a good boy.”

the way tomura reacts, the slight twitch of his cock, the quiver in his bottom lip, it’s all a newfound revelation for you. you tie his wrists together, making sure it’s not too tight, loose enough that he doesn’t cut off circulation, your fingers trembling. “you like this?” you ask softly.

he doesn’t answer. grits his teeth and glowers at you, but doesn’t answer. you sit back down in front of him, lowering your head to kiss squarely on the slit of his cock, now fully hard and achingly crimson. he whines, pitchy and breathy, head knocking back against the wall, and you love it. revel in it, bathe in the power you now hold over him. “don’t worry,” you murmur, pressing open mouthed kisses to the side of his cock. “i’ll take care of you, okay?”

you slacken your jaw, taking him into your mouth, the peripherals of your vision catching the way his hands flex, fingers tensing with the need to hold you, but he can’t. his hands, tied and kept away, are absent to keep him steady and upright, and he heaves against the wall. already? already fucked out? you want to tease him, but you decide otherwise, preferring to take more of him down your throat.

his hips involuntarily buck, and the intrusion of his cockhead hitting against the back of your throat makes you gag a little. “‘m sorry, sorry,” he whimpers breathily.

“‘s okay,” you smooth your hands over his thighs, milky skin unmarred, unmarked. “why don’t we get you out of your clothes completely, baby?”

it proves a challenge, a small one as he barely moves to help you pull his jeans off, but once you do, you can’t help but look. the pale, pearly skin of his legs, his thighs, his hips; you’d seen it all already, but it felt all so new again. his nipples, pinkish brown and pebbling in the cold, look so pretty against the plains of his torso, miles and miles of iridescent pasture, ridges and valleys as his bones jut out of his flesh. he’s so pretty, so inviting.

it makes you want to bite him.

you lie him down, his back comfortable against his sheets, tied hands over his head. “is this okay?” you whisper in his ear, watching the way his skin flushes.

“yeah,” he whispers back. “please, please touch me.”

and who are you to deny such a request? who are you to not give in, give it all to me now? you smile gently, pressing a kiss to his lips, soft and a little chapped. you nudge his chin up so you can wrap your lips along the column of his neck, suckling bruises into the pearly skin. his breath stutters, you can hear the raggedness of his breathing in your ear as you make your way down, slowly, slowly. your fingers come up to his nipples, taking one first, and rubbing it in slow circles.

“fuck!” he yelps, a stuttered gasp in, a wanton moan out.

“like that?” you smile up at him, and he can’t help it, his glaring, glowering exterior chipping bit by bit. can’t help the way he nods excitedly, mouth open like he’s about to beg you to do it again, please do it again.

so you do. circle his nipples, pinching them every so often, revelling in the stagger of his chest, his erratic breathing. tomura looks so pretty with his face flushed, cheeks blossoming patchy pink and red. his eyes are fluttered close, back arching into your touch. “more, more,” he whimpers.

“patience, baby,” you smooth a clammy hand down his chest. “patience.”

what a good boy. you lift his hips up a little, situating yourself between his milky thighs, suckling your signature into the skin. he’s covered in a slow-growing litany of purple and blue bruises, ones you know he’ll complain about when you’re done, when he’s attitude comes back. but for now, it’s alright. it’s lovely, even, the way he’s begging you for more.

you place his thighs on his shoulders as you lie on your stomach, raising them little by little until you see his little whole, shuddering, clenching. “did you clean up for me here, baby?” you whisper, nosing against his perineum. “you were waiting for this, weren’t you?”

“shut up,” he lets out between grit teeth, a clenched jaw.

“i don’t think i will,” you breathe against him, raising his legs even more until it bends, knees pressed to his chest. you run a finger over his hole, gauging his reaction, and he doesn’t disappoint. he bucks himself against you, trying to catch on to anything more than the fleeting touch of your fingertips.

you let your hands pry apart the fat of his cheeks, allowing yourself more access to his hole, and press the flat of your tongue against him. he moans, airy and pitchy as you coat his tight rim with your spit, before massaging two fingers against the seam. “can you take my fingers?” you ask softly, letting your free hand smooth against the backs of his thighs.

nod. “yeah, i-i can,” he promises. you look up at him now, and your heart aches. his arms are straining, nails digging into his palm. his soft hair fans out under him, peeking silver and white and little bits of blue against the white sheets of his pillow. marks spell out your love against the milky plains of his skin. you can’t stop yourself from looking, just looking, until he whines.

“please, please keep going,” he begs, so sweetly, honey dripping from his lips.

so you do. you press your fingers into him, stretching him out before adding your tongue next to them. you eat, you feast upon him, his skin spit slick and precum oozing through the slit of his cock, pooling at the base. you lap at him, taking everything plattered in front of you, the friction of your lips on his tight hole and your nose on his perineum driving him insane. “your cunt,” you breathe in shakily, you can’t even hear the words you’re saying. “you taste so fucking good.”

“gunna—” tomura begins to whimper, thrashing against the sheets. you lock your arms around his thighs, keeping his lower half still as you continue to eat, your tongue massaging the tight walls of his ass.

“need more,” he begs, and you know what he’s asking for. your fingers, two of them, slide easily into his ass and he mewls, your fingers diving deep and calloused fingertips working against the gummy spot inside of him. “yes— yes, right there!”

“right here?” you murmur, watching his cock as it bobs, balls drawn tight. “gonna cum for me?”

he lets out a guttural moan in response, and you have to continue. have to fuck his hole until he cums untouched, spilling white onto his stomach. it’s almost artistic, the way he cries out for you as he cums, hips bucking violently and his back arching, cumming and cumming and cumming.

you ride out his orgasm with him, your fingers slowing a stop before pulling out completely. “i didn’t even get to touch your cock,” you giggle, and he glowers at you through the crack in his eyelids. “you came untouched.”

“oh, ha ha ha,” he rolls his eyes, his voice scratchy and hoarse. “i came like a little schoolboy when i get my ass played with. is that what you’re going to say?”

“not at all,” you reach up, undoing the binding of his wrists together. “i was going to say you look so pretty when you let me take care of you.”

he blushes, cheeks pink and red, before heaving you over him. “tomura!” you squeal. “your— oh my god, your cum’s gonna stain my jeans.”

“i’ll wash them later,” he pulls you on top of him, pressing a kiss to your lips, swallowing your protest. his fingers tangle into the hem of your sweater, pulling it up, over your head. “take em off. now.”

you sit up, undoing the buttons of your jeans and you both pull them off together, along with your pretty pink panties that tomura looks at for just a beat too long. “those were part of your birthday present,” you kiss his nose, cozying up onto his chest.

“and you didn’t even let me take them off you.” he sounds actually hurt, and you laugh at his forlorn expression.

“you’ll have plenty of other opportunities to take them off of me, okay?” you toe them off, dangling them in front of him. he snatches them out of your hand and tucks them under his pillow before pulling you down to meet him, chest to chest. your tits, soft, pillowy spill over onto the side, and he has to stop himself from twitching back to life.

“do you want me to take care of this?” he murmurs, dragging a few fingers down your back, dipping between the curves of your ass, and he gasps. “you’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“you don’t have to,” you hum, your eyelids beginning to droop. “i feel fine knowing you feel good.”

tomura shakes his head. “it’s not fair,” he pulls you up, dragging you forward by your thighs. “that i came and you have to sit there in a puddle of your own fuckin’ slick. c’mon, sit.”

“i’m sleepy,” you whine, your cunt hovering above his mouth. “you don’t– don’t have to.”

but then he’s pulling you down, your cunt straight on his mouth, the schlick of your slick-covered pussy making contact with his tongue. it’s dizzying, the speed at which he’s devouring you, like it’s his only mission to get you to cum— and cum strong— on his tongue. “tomura,” you attempt to say, shaky tones of your voice wavering. “o-oh, shit, oh fuck.”

he just hums. just peers up at you with his eyebrows pinched, your knees digging into the sides of his pillow. you can’t stop looking at him, his mouth firmly planted against the mound of your pussy, sucking and slurping like his life depends on it. his eyes are glazed over, lost in the euphoria of your tangy and sweet taste, the folds of your pussy enough for him to delve into, his tongue teasing the gummy walls. you grip the wood of his headboard with one hand, the other rucking through his hair.

it’s not a service, not a duty. it’s not an obligation but a desire, wanting to feel your weight on him, wanting to dig his chilly fingertips into the pudge of your thighs and feast, pry you apart on his hands until you’re crumbling. you’re whining, loud and unabashed, as you ride his face. you can’t see it but behind you, his cock jumps with every moan you let out, oozes precum with every downward grind you allow on his face. like two bunnies in heat, you rut against each other, letting your sin and your vice and your love bleed into the air.

his lips wrap around the bud of your clit and you’re gone, mouth hanging open as you whimper a soft, “cumming, cumming,” just loud enough for him to hear. but even if he didn’t,, he could tell by the way your legs go rigid, and your pussy clenches around nothing. you’re limp and lifeless, slumping against him as he pulls you down from your reverie, pressing his lips to yours. you let him stick this tongue in your mouth, the taste of you tangy. he whimpers as you shift, sucking on his tongue, letting it press up against the roof of your mouth, the flat of your tongue.

tomura devours you whole, mind, body, and soul, and offers his to you on a platter. you tangle together in his sheets, inseparable, two bodies, two souls forged into one as you fall asleep in each other’s arms. you become one, never letting him go, never letting the bruises that mark him yours fade for long.

the snow picks up as you sleep, the homely glow of his desk lamp illuminating the space. tonight, it’s your turn to watch him as he sleeps. you’re lying together, facing one another, but you have to crane your neck up to watch him. he sleeps lightly, you know, so you try not to disturb him as you drag a hand up and down the side of his torso, and then moving to stroke his back. you count the freckles in his skin, the shapes that his moles make. you begin to memorise his body, idiosyncrasies of the man in front of you pushing you further and further into some sort of love for him.

“i love you,” you whisper. “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

with the passing of winter comes the end of the year, and the feast of the winter star comes around. you have leah as your giftee, so you take a trip into the city to get her a printed, binded copy of all the artwork she had shared with you.

while you’re there, you dip in and out of comic book shops, looking for copies of solarian chronicles he’s been wanting for forever. you buy three volumes, walking out with a soft smile on your face. “thanks so much,” you call over your shoulder before you leave, catching the bus home.

you also make your version of pumpkin soup with some harvest you had saved, the recipe robin had given you directing you slowly and surely. “you should make this for him,” robin said when she handed it to you, a smirk on her face. “he’ll love it.” you flushed. what was she insinuating? did she know? was she okay with it?

but it didn’t matter for much soon after. the morning comes with the smell of pine and holly in the air, and you all exchange gifts at the tree. as you hand leah her gift, her face lights up with shock and mirth as she flips through the pages.

“you fuckin’ didn’t,” she gasps, looking at the high resolution prints of all her artwork. “holy shit, no you fuckin’ didn’t.”

“do you like it?” you ask sheepishly.

“do i— you— i love it,” she snaps it closed and throws her arms around you, swallowing you in a tight hug. she smells like the forest, like dew drops in the morning. “thank you. thank you.”

your gifter turns out to be evelyn, the sweet village grandmother. she hobbles up to you slowly, taking your hands and placing a neatly wrapped box in them. “it isn’t much,” she says, smiling up at you. “but i know how much you like those cookies.”

evelyn’s cookies are probably some of the best snacks you had ever tried. the first time she had offered you some they were gone within the day, and the second time, himiko and touya scarfed them down in even shorter. “thank you, evelyn,” you reach down to press a kiss to her cheek. “happy holidays.”

tomura and you had planned for him to come over after the festivities. robin’s fine with it, a knowing smile on her lips, but demetrius is a little more sceptical, something about having to spend the holidays with your family. “why don’t you come over to ours?” he asks you. “we have plenty of food, and we’d love to have you over for dinner.”

“demetrius,” robin smacks him lightly on the arm. “let him go.”

you both offer watery smiles to robin, and leave the feast with your hands barely touching. once you are out of the eyeline of the villagers, tomura wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you into his chest, a small squeak of surprise clawing between your lips. “tomu!” you giggle, tripping into him.

“you look so pretty today,” he buries his head into your shoulder, swaying with you. “i wanted to kiss you all morning.”

you heart warms, and you reach up on your tiptoes to kiss him, catching his jaw in your palm. “you don’t look too bad yourself,” you breathe against his lips.

the kiss is short, brief, but still so full of warmth and electricity. it’s dizzying, how much joy runs through your veins with a simple kiss, but it’s tomura. his hair’s tucked back behind his ear, and he’s brought out his “festive” sweater; a plain, maroon coloured one. “i need more clothes,” he murmured to you one night, going through his closet. “these are all i have.”

but back in the now, you’re tugging him in the direction of your farmhouse, bounding up the steps with him in tow. your hands tangle in each other’s as you collapse on your bed, pulling out the wrapped gifts you had for him. “me first, me first.” you tell him, fishing out the wrapped comic volumes, covered in white and red striped wrapping paper. “here.”

you heave it into his hands, letting him judge the weight of it before he’s tearing it open. his eyes gleam, and you can see the way he perks up, mouth pressed into a tight line to keep from splitting into a wide smile. “baby…” he trails off, eyes not leaving the pristine copies. “oh my god.”

“you like em?” you ask softly, hands fumbling with one another in your lap.

“i do, i love em. how did you— know?”

“you know i listen to you when you talk, right?” you giggle, slinging your arms around his neck. “and you talk about these volumes all the time.”

he flushes. “i do not.”

“do too. and now you have em, so you can stop complaining about how much they cost.”

tomura’s bottom lip quivers and shakes, his scarlet eyes wavering as he heaves you to sit on his lap. “thank you, baby, thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “you’re the best girlfriend ever.”

you both freeze, movement ceasing the moment that word leaves his lips. “girlfriend?” you ask, tentatively.

and tomura groans, whipping his head back. “i was… i was going to ask you officially after i gave you your gift. fuck, ruined it.” he slaps his hand across his forehead, cursing himself out. but you giggle, prying his hand away.

“you can just ask me now,” you whisper in his ear. “not that there is any doubt about it.”

but he shakes his head. “your present first,” he reaches into his bag and pulls out something small. it’s wrapped in brown paper, an oblong shape and covered in tape. “don’t you dare say anything about the wrapping.”

you take it in both your hands, giggling quietly. “wasn’t gonna,” you insist, your nimble fingers digging under the tape, tearing the paper.

your heart aches as you unwrap it. it’s a small porcelain figure, two little frogs under the shelter of a big green leaf. one of them has your yellow rain boots, and the other tomura’s black boots. the paint, the sheen, the gloss, you run your fingers over it like youre waiting for it to crumble away like an illusion.

but it doesn’t. it’s real, a small little ceramic figure warming in your palm.

“oh my god.” is all you can say. you can’t stop staring at it, can’t stop looking. “oh my god.”

“i got it done that day i went out into the city with touya,” tomura starts, scratching the back of his neck. “i’ve wanted to show it to you since. you can tell how much of a fuckin’ struggle it was.”

your eyes are glassy, and you feel the familiar prickle in your nose that precedes tears. “tomura,” you look up at him, crying. “i love it.”

he smiles. a big, genuine smile that crumbles all doubt and insecurity in your heart, warms it with a gentle ray of sunshine. “i’m glad you do,” he takes your chin in his fingers, tilting your face up to kiss you. it’s soft, sweet, like the gentle fall of snowflakes that patter against your window. tomura’s breaking down, the unfamiliarity of love overwhelms him, but as long as it’s you in front of him, he thinks, he doesn’t mind the feeling of free falling. your lips are warm, intoxicating, honey-sweet, and he just wants to kiss you forever.

you two part, a string of spit connecting your mouths and you look up at him. his midas touch, wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck, turning all you see into gold, glimmering, iridescent joy. tomura presses his forehead to yours, and whispers, “happy holidays, baby.”

taglist: @softmitsuya @severedreamtragedy @keigospup @bratty-wh0re @mitstubachi @hitoshitoshi @ra-dawg13 @kore-faunaandflaura @mikasaismygfx @ketia @kiyomis-world

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki mha #shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki #writing tag #hera loves tenko #cw:assplay #cw:rimming #this is my fourth attempt making this draft #please save without crashing

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