#I also had a thought that he moved away soon before the death game to be ready for the real world or whatever...

[deadsetobsessions]

Fae adjacent! Danny, pt. 3

Jason returns to consciousness with a scream trapped before it could come to life. He twisted his neck back and forth and back and forth.

It was the last thing he did before he died. When the Joker left and told him to say hello to the big guy, Jason could not muster up the energy to make a single sound.

But Bruce… Bruce was here this time, heavy head making the mattress by his leg dip.

The scars that ran over his face stretched as he blinked.

“…B?”

Bruce’s head shot up, eyes bloodshot and bags heavier than a Gotham socialite’s solid gold Dior purse.

“Jaylad.”

Jason- Jason was alive now. Bruce’s hug felt warm, the tear spot on his shoulder was damp as his dad cried while hugging him.

And Jason should be happy. He’s alive again. His dad loved him.

But all he could think about was the cold of the coffin, the squelch of mud and dirt, and the unerringly wrong feeling of knowing he came back but he came back wrong.

——

Tim had wandered Gotham in the weeks following Jason’s reawakening. He wasn’t avoiding Bruce Wayne. He wasn’t. But Tim knows he’ll have to answer questions soon. He just wasn’t ready.

Tim looked up at the den of pixies- pixies were real!- and squared his shoulders. He did his research. Tim Drake walks into the den with nothing but foolish hope and Gotham-brand audacity. He’ll get answers about Danny today. He will.

——

Soul-Plucker, they called him. Danny Fenton, the proprietor of Fenton Artifacts. The High King.

“I thought King Oberon was the High King?”

The pixies chittered at the little human that could have been kin. Their wings fluttered at their backs, muffled by cloth. It’s not often they find kindred. It really is too bad that Fenton had his mark on the child. How they would have loved to whisk him away. He would have made entertainment that would last a millennia! Or until the court decided to cut of his tongue, at least. How well he had tricked them!

“Of course! Of course! King Oberon is our king, see?” A younger pixie swirled her drink, a shining red and blue thing. “But he’s the High King of another court!”

“The High King of the Infinite Realms, encompassing far more than King Oberon and Queen Tatianna could ever reach.”

Another pixie chimed in, on their fourth glass of amber colored nectar. “The Soul-Plucker!”

“The Beginning of the End.”

“Afterlife IRS department!”

“He who wanders.”

“Death-Caller.” Another one said, grave and serious.

“The Arbiter.”

“So, he’s like, the boss of bosses?” Tim asked. What kind of entity did he make a deal with? Why was he kind to Tim? What motives did Danny have?

“Uh huh!”

“Then what’s he’s doing here?”

“Who knows? The whims of the most powerful are unknown to us.” The pixies clustered around Tim. “Won’t you play another game with us, Alvin? You’re so good at it! Oh, how about a drink?”

“Can’t. I gotta get home. Also, I’m a minor.” Tim slipped passed their fluttering wings and manic smiles. They move to let him past, waving drinks at him in a tantalizing manner.

“And where is that, sweet one?”

“Somewhere, Liltri. Somewhere.”

Tim Drake was a child of pure will, pure hard headed foolishness, a mind sharper than any blade, and luck more terrifying than the creatures he now dealt with. And so, he stepped out of the Pixie Bar with more questions than answers but he stepped out unharmed.

——

“Who are you?” The shadows shift as Lady Gotham unveiled her knight.

Danny felt his eyes cool, glinting green and blue. Lady Gotham forgets who her liege is.

“Haven’t you done your research? You who walks along the edge of shadows, my shop is not a place to dismiss decorum.”

“You brought… you brought him back. How. Why?”

“You want answers? Then give me something in return.”

Danny gestured to the circle his clients have come to know as the deal-maker. Danny doesn’t ask for much in return. Just… something equal to the request.

“Ah,” Danny pointed up at the sign. “I am legally able to deny you my service, so don’t get any ideas.”

Batman was studied up on myths. But he was not a believer, and that both hindered and helped him. What was a god, in front of the faithless? What was the faithless in front of power?

The vigilante stepped into the circle, unable to see the subtle shimmering of magic but remained unbound by the virtue of his disbelief.

“What do you want for answers?”

“You do not often deal with the occult, do you?” Danny tapped the counter. Batman remained silent.

“I have a soft spot for vigilantes,” Danny continued. “And so I won’t ask for much. Just… your cape.”

“Not my hair? A body part?”

“If you were dealing with the fae, you’d probably would lose something of that value, yes.”

“You aren’t fae.”

Danny merely smiled. “Do we have a deal?”

“My cape in exchange for honest answers to my questions.”

Danny huffed, approval glinting in his eyes.

“Your cape for honest answers to three questions,” Danny pointed at the sign, still hanging above them. “Three questions or nothing.”

Batman grimaced. “Deal.”

“Ask your questions, protector.”

“Why did you bring Jason back to life?”

“I didn’t.” Danny grinned. The Bat should have stipulated that he must answer elaborately. He looked like he realized that. Oh well. His mistake. Well, not like there was actual magic binding Danny, so technically, Danny could lie off his ass.

“…Will Jason stay alive?” Danny had a heart and this man was a much better father than Jack ever was.

“Yes. Barring unnatural causes, his soul is firmly attached to his body and will not shuffle off the mortal coil without warning.”

The lines of Batman’s shoulders slumped. Relief. He paused.

“What are your intentions in this city?”

“To run my shop… and to enjoy retirement.”

Danny laughed at Batman’s stoic face. “Disappointed I am not up to nefarious deeds, little knight?”

“No.”

Danny tapped the table. “My payment?”

Batman shucked off his cape and handed it to Danny.

“Why my cape?”

Danny smiled a fanged little thing. “Because your costume looks stupid without it and I could use a laugh.”

Batman grumbled and turned to leave. Ha paused, eyes catching on the glint of camera lenses.

“How much for that?”

“For the little sparrow’s camera?” Danny sighed, eyes fixed on the form of a vigilante who was more kind than angry for once. “Two thousand dollars.”

“That’s a huge markup.”

“That’s how much it means to me, compared to the rest.” Danny slid beyond the counter, a ghostly air about him. He pinned his newly earned cape up. “My shop, my prices, little knight.”

Batman silently handed him two thousand dollars and left with the little sparrow’s camera.

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

changes

dbf!loganxgrown!reader

a/n: my first resquest! i hope you like it <3 send me more requests pls pls!

wc:2.5k

FLUFF, AGE GAP, TABOO RELATIONSHIP

summary: you've had enough of the tension between you and Logan, your dad's best friend, so you decided to go confront him about it.

It’s funny how the past creeps up on you. One minute, you’re just a kid with scraped knees and big dreams, and the next, you’re staring down the barrel of decisions you swore you’d never make. But life’s got a way of pushing you into corners, and before you know it, you’re crossing lines you didn’t even know were there.

Logan’s always been a fixture in my life, like the smell of cigar smoke that clings to the walls long after the flame’s been snuffed out. A constant. Steady. Safe, in a way that most people never are. My dad’s best friend, the man who taught me how to throw a punch and how to take one. He was always there, just on the periphery, watching out for me in that quiet, gruff way of his.

But things change. People change. Or maybe, it’s just me. Because somewhere along the way, the way I look at him shifted. The safe, familiar lines blurred, and now I’m seeing things I wasn’t supposed to see—feeling things I wasn’t supposed to feel.

It’s like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing full well that one wrong step could send you plummeting, but you can’t bring yourself to step back. And Logan… he’s the kind of danger you run toward, not away from.

I know better. I should know better. But when I’m around him, all that common sense goes up in smoke. Just like the end of his cigar, burning slow, smouldering—until there’s nothing left but ash.

You put down your pen with a heavy sigh.

Your diary, the safekeeping for all your thoughts and worries, had recently become your go-to place for your impure thoughts as well.

A part of you wished you could go back to the way it was before. It was simpler, more moral, and occupied a lot less of your mind than it did now.

But something had shifted between the two of you when you became a woman. 

The way you looked at him was a big one. Now that you were in the adult dating pool as well, you couldn’t help but notice that Logan was an attractive man and a single one too.

You obsessively questioned why that was because, to you, he was the complete package; More than just tall, dark, and handsome. 

You would catch yourself stealing glances when he wasn’t looking, the way his chest and abdominal muscles flexed beneath his shirt when he moved. The protruding veins of his forearms and hands, how his fingers were covered in callouses from work.

You had memorized the way his voice dipped into a low grumble when he said your name, how his hazel eyes darkened with something unspoken when they met yours.

The way he spoke to you also took a drastic turn. Keeping the conversation preferably to small talk, or once in a while he’d tease you and call you those annoying pet names from when you were little:

“Watch your mouth, sweetheart.” 

“Come on princess, take a joke,” 

“Kid, you’re gonna be the death of me.”  

Another thing was the way you interacted with each other; you weren’t jumping into his arms as soon as he stepped through the door or being picked up and settled into his lap anymore, it was just a nod of acknowledgement or a slight touch on your lower back if he needed to pass by you.

Even the littlest amount of contact didn’t stop you from imagining what it would feel like if he didn’t stop himself from touching you. What it would feel like if he let go of that last thread of restraint that keeps him just out of reach.

When you lay alone at night, you couldn’t help but think about sitting on that lap again one day.

The lines between right and wrong blur every time he’s near now. It’s dangerous, this game you’re both playing in your heads.

The last time he’d been over, fixing something for your dad, you couldn’t help but notice how his gaze lingered on you a moment too long. How the air seemed to crackle with tension when you were alone in the room together.

“You alright bub’?” he’d tried to play it casually but his eyes… his eyes told a different story.

Bub, the nickname he had given you when you were younger.

“Yeah, just watching you,” you’d bit your lip, keeping your gaze locked on his. 

He nodded, but the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands gripped the wrench a little harder, told you everything you needed to know. You could feel the weight of his gaze on your back as you left the room, your heart pounding in your chest, knowing he felt it too—the pull, the magnetic force that kept you two stealing glances here and there. 

You close the diary with a soft thud as if shutting the book could somehow lock away the thoughts swirling in your head. But the truth is, there’s no escaping them—not when every interaction with Logan leaves you trembling with a flame you cannot control.

And now, sitting in your room, your diary clutched to your chest like a lifeline, you know it’s only a matter of time before something gives. 

There is no better time than the present after all…Fuck it.

With a deep breath, you push yourself off the bed and glance at the clock. It’s late, but you know Logan’s still awake—he always is.

 Part of you was set on going to see him now, to see if the tension you’ve been imagining is real, if he’ll react the same way as you will.

But another part of you, the part that remembers the little girl who used to jump into his arms without a second thought, holds you back. 

Because once you took that step, there was no going back to the way things were before.

And maybe that’s what scared you the most.

You slipped out of your apartment, clutching your car keys so tightly that the metal might bend under the pressure.

 What were you doing? You weren’t entirely sure yourself, but it felt as if your body was on autopilot—drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Finding your car, you slid into the driver’s seat, your fingers trembling as you shot Logan a quick text.

Y/N: You up?

Your leg bounced nervously as you waited for his reply. How would he react? Would his voice of reason prevail, or would he finally admit to feeling the same pull that you did?

A moment later, your phone buzzed. Logan responded with a simple thumbs-up emoji.

Very on brand. 

Simple, efficient, and direct. You thought.

With his green light, you pulled out of the parking garage and drove towards his log cabin up at Deer Lake. The hum of the engine was the only sound breaking the stillness of the night. The closer you got, the more your heart pounded against your ribcage, a steady rhythm that matched the thoughts racing through your mind. 

You couldn’t stop replaying the last time you’d been alone with him, the way his eyes had lingered on yours just a fraction too long, the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw when your fingers brushed his as he handed you something.

Was tonight the night everything would change?

As you turned onto the narrow, winding road that led to his place, the dense trees seemed to close in around you, the darkness thickening with each passing second.

The familiarity of the path did little to ease your nerves; if anything, it only heightened the anticipation. 

You’d been here countless times before, but tonight was different. Tonight, you weren’t just visiting a family friend—you were venturing into no man's land.

Finally, the cabin came into view, the warm glow of the porch light spilling out into the cold night air.

You parked the car and took a deep breath, your hand hovering over the door handle as you tried to steady yourself. 

There was still time to turn back, to pretend this had all been a bad idea, a fleeting moment of weakness.

But deep down, you knew you weren’t going to, you knew you didn’t want to.

With a quiet resolve, you stepped out of the car and made your way up the steps to his door. The sound of gravel crunching beneath your boots seemed louder in the stillness of the night.

You hesitated for a moment at the door, your hand raised to knock, when it suddenly swung open, revealing Logan standing there, backlit by the soft light from inside.

He was dressed in his usual white tank top and denim jeans. His tall presence filled the doorway, broad shoulders and familiar, rugged face, but it was the look in his eyes that held you captive. There was a flicker of something there—something that mirrored the pressure in your chest.

“Kid,” he said, his voice low and steady, but you could hear the tension beneath it.

“Can I come in?” You mumbled shyly. 

He nodded,  and you stepped past him into the cabin. The door closed behind you with a soft click, and suddenly the world outside felt very far away. It was as if you’d crossed over into a place where nothing but the two of you existed.

You followed Logan deeper into the cabin, the warmth from the fireplace offering a sharp contrast to the cold, restless night outside. He leaned against the table, returning his glass of whiskey in his hand.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to break the silence. “Logan… can we talk?”

He took a swig and looked up, his hazel eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. “‘Bout what?”

You hesitated, then stepped closer, your heart racing. “Logan, I see the way you look at me.”

He took a swig of his drink.

“... it’s okay. I’ve been looking too.” You stepped closer. 

“I know, sweetheart,” He looked down into his drink. “...hard to ignore what’s goin' on between us.” 

Your breath hitched: he acknowledged it. 

“It is hard, and it’s driving me crazy... we can’t keep pretending like there’s nothing here. I like you, a lot, and I know it’s wrong but I can’t help it.” You fiddled with your fingers. 

“Kid,” he began, his voice gruff, “it ain’t wrong to feel what you’re feelin’. Not with the way that things have changed between us.”

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest as you took another step closer, the tension between you thickening with each breath. “Then why have you been pulling away? Why do you keep acting like we can just ignore this?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his hands flexing as if he was trying to find the right words. “I’ve been tryin’ to protect you…. Things ain’t as simple as they used to be. You’re not a little girl anymore, and I’m… well, I’m me. There’s a lot of weight that comes with this, darlin’. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it too.”

Your heart ached at his words, and a relieved sigh escaped your body. “I don’t care about the weight, Logan. I just… I want to figure this out with you. I want us to be honest about what we’re feeling, even if it’s messy.”

Logan’s expression softened, a hint of vulnerability showing through his tough exterior. “You’re sure about this, princess? Once we open this door, there ain’t no goin’ back.”

You nodded, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “I’m sure. I want to see where this goes. I don’t want to keep pretending.”

Logan took a deep breath and pulled you close to him by your waist, the warmth of his touch grounding you. “Alright, we’ll take it slow and figure it out as we go.” 

Logan’s gaze lingered on yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. The warmth of his hand on your waist, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soft crackle of the fire—all of it faded into the background as you both stood there, suspended in the tension of what was about to happen.

You could see the conflict in his eyes, the war between the desire he’d been holding back and the protective instinct that had kept him at a distance for so long. But as you leaned in closer, closing the gap between you, something in his resolve seemed to break.

His hand moved from your waist to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart swoon. Your breath caught as his gaze flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, as if silently asking for permission.

You answered by closing the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both gentle and intense, like the release of a storm that had been building for far too long. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

The kiss deepened, a slow exploration of all the feelings you’d both been holding back. There was a rawness to it, a hunger that had been denied for too long, but also a softness, an unspoken promise that this was only the beginning.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to steady yourselves. Logan’s hand remained on your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as if he was memorizing the moment.

“Damn, kid,” he murmured, You could smell the whiskey on his breath. “That was...”

“Yeah,” you whispered, unable to find the words to describe what you were feeling. “It was.”

Logan’s eyes searched yours, and in them, you saw a mixture of relief, longing, and something deeper—something that told you that whatever came next, you wouldn’t have to face it alone.

Without a word, Logan’s hands slid down to your thighs, and with a strength that always amazed you, he lifted you effortlessly. A small gasp escaped your lips as he carried you over to the worn leather armchair by the fire, he settled you in his lap, just like you’d been longing for.

The warmth of his body against yours sent a shiver down your spine as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. Logan held you close, his hand resting on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.

“What now?” he asked with a grin, his voice a little more seductive now as if the kiss had made it harder for him to hold back.

“What happened to start slow?” You tightened your grip around his neck. 

A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, savouring every moment. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this—just the two of you and the beginning of something you both knew you’d been waiting for.

ty so much for your request reader <3

🏷️: @megangovier, @back2thebasics

If you'd like to join my tagged list and be notified whenever I post new content, click ->-> HERE<-<-, instructions will follow.

->->masterlist<-<-

[stvrni0lo]

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

matt sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: you accidentally reveal to matt’s stream that you’re his s/o

warnings/notes: none (?)

requested?: yes

> > >

Matt had been huddled up in his room all day playing games with Nick and Chris. After being cooped up inside for the first half of the day, the boys had nothing to eat - so you kindly offered to bring them some takeout on your way there.

Chris eventually fled to the living room, bidding goodbye to the stream they began, and leaving Nick and Matt to continue playing in their respective rooms.

Unlocking the door to their apartment you were met with Chris’ excited yelps as he runs towards you. He practically steals the food from your arms and sprints to the kitchen.

“So much for a ‘hello, thank you for feeding me!’” you joke as you hold onto the drinks you bought them. Placing the cans onto the counter, you split the food and give Chris his share.

“Thank you for feeding me!” he yells behind him as he ran to sit on the couch. Rolling your eyes, you divided Nick, yours, and Matt’s food also. You take your shoes off and leave them in the hallway before walking to Chris and plopping onto the couch next to him. He was watching some American version of ‘Love Island’ that Nick recommended him.

Since it wasn’t of much interest to you, you get up to let him to eat his dinner in peace.

“I’m gonna go bring Matt’s food up - do you mind letting Nick know his is on the counter?” you said.

All you got was a mumble of agreement from him. Deciding that’s as good as you’re gonna get, you take the brown bag of food upstairs. What Chris had forgotten to mention was that Matt was on stream currently. With his camera on.

It’s not that the viewers didn’t know who you were, or that you hated being on camera. However, your relationship with Matt was kept away from the public eye - and you both wanted to keep it that way.

You knock on his door and wait for his response before walking in. He has his headphones on, clicking random buttons and yelling at Nick to heal him.

“I brought you food,” you say as you placed it on his bed, throwing his can of root beer next to it.

“You’re a Godsend, thank you,” he says, turning away from his computer to look at you.

“Hey,” he mumbles upon seeing you, cheeks tinted pink.

You were out of shot, but the viewers recognize your voice in an instant. The chat fills with people speculating why Matt was blushing so hard, and people commenting how cute it was that you bought him dinner.

All of this was completely unbeknownst to you, as you still thought he was just playing with his brother on call.

Matt rolls his chair over to grab his beverage and the bag of takeout. Walking away from him, you look around the room.

“If you’re not too busy can you help me look for my sweater? I think I left it here last night,” you say absentmindedly as you opened his closet.

At this, the comments went crazy.

Matt’s eyes widened. He looks at the screen, and then at you, and then at the chat. The comments were flying in at 120mph, with people typing in all caps.

Various messages were sent from: ‘I knew it!’ to ‘WHAT’ to complete and utter shock and chaos. Matt bursts out laughing as one in particular caught his eye - ‘MOM AND DAD’.

“What’s so funny?” you quip, raising your eyebrow, “you want your girlfriend to freeze to death?”

At this point there was no going back. No way in hell was there a way to cover that up.

Matt guilty looks up at you, gesturing to the screen.

“I’m live,” he says plainly.

“Oh.”

He holds his hand out to you and you take it, moving into the camera’s view. You wave.

“Hi guys!”

You look over at the chat and you’re surprised to see many supportive comments. ‘This is so cute’ - ‘Dying rn’ - ‘We knew’. Your face turns hot as you look down at your boyfriend, completely bewildered.

“I’m sorry I forgot to tell you,” Matt whispers.

You shake your head, kissing the top of his hair. “It’s okay, they were bound to find out soon enough.”

And with that, you say goodbye to the stream and sneak back downstairs to bring Nick his food; you knew Chris would forget to.

The rest of the stream was filled with Nick telling the comments to get over themselves, and Matt blushing each time your name was mentioned.

Maybe being public wouldn’t be so bad.

- - -

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@lollibumblebee

@dwntwn-strnlo

@gracietaylorsversions

@20nugs

@thetriplets3

@stxrniqlo

@sunshinewwx

@gwenlore

@gabbylovesreading

@ssturniolo

@opheliaofficial07

[julessworldd]

Hey babes! I finally got an idea that was too good to not waste. @valeskafics gave the inspo for this amazing thing 🫶🏻 love you wifey! Also @foxyanon for the tag

Warnings: cucking, age gap (reader is 19, Robb is 19, Jaime is in his 30s) pussy eating, fingering(F), oral(m and f), squirting, hair pulling, p in v, doggy, mentions of face fucking. Spanking, dubcon at first! , dom!robb 🥵 Mentions of beheading, war/battle, cussing. Theon being early season prev Theon(you’ll see) I probably messed a couple timeline things up. I’m not totally up to speed up to westerlands’ house: I didn’t want a westerling reader so house Swyft

I don’t own characters or rights of Game of Thrones, all credits for G.R.R and HBO. Enjoy besties 🫶🏻🫶🏻

A Lannister bride was today’s Targaryen marriage. The Lannisters were powerful and wealthy people. Even better if it was Lord Tywin’s son, Jaime. Tywin’s power bent the rule of a Kingsguard not taking a wife. Owning lands, fathering children. For that Swyft lord’s daughter Y/n it was a dream come true. She remembers seeing Jaime at a tourney at the rock. He was 17 and she was merely a preteen. But she was dead set on marrying the lion.

Y/n’s wish had came true, she married Jaime Lannister, former Kingsguard, son of the mighty Tywin. She loved life at the rock, gold, nice dresses. Better yet custom dresses that the fabric came from the Narrow Sea. A handsome lord husband, who loved to make her scream until his name was the only thing she knew. Jaime had ruined her for other men, especially since he was well blessed below in the belt. And knew how to pleasure her before his own needs.

After the death of King Robert, the realm had 4 kings who thought they were the true king. One was a Stark, the late Lord Eddard Stark’s son, Robb. He was around Y/n’s age, she was merely 19 after this spring. King Joffrey declared war on all the kings, Robb was moving south. He was apparently near the trident, that was close enough for her husband to pick up and head to battle. After a king screaming match, Y/n was with her husband. She made a promise to stay out of the way and let him ride to battle. Jaime was gone as he went after the Stark army, Y/n stayed like always.

Y/n was reading a book when the tent flap moved and revealed a Stark bannermen. Y/n’s chest tightened as she locked eyes with the bannermen. She tried reaching for the blade Jaime had given her. But she was thrown over the bearded man’s shoulder. Soon enough Y/n was carried to the Stark’s camp, she seen her husband. He was dirty, dirt had hidden his golden hair. He was tied up and had a chain around his neck. Her heart broke for her husband, he was so good at battle how did he get captured? Especially by someone who is three years younger his wife.

“Your Grace, I got Ser Jaime’s wife. What should I do with her?” The bannermen asked as he held her arm

“Leave her in my tent, she’ll forget about her lion after she has me in her cunt” Theon smirked as he checked her out

“Theon, she’s a lady no matter whose house she married in. Set her up a tent near mine” Robb said “Leave her with me”

The bannermen let go of her arm, Jaime was so pissed he didn’t say anything as he was dragged away. He thinking of ways to kill the foul mouthed Greyjoy. How dare he talk to his darling like that.

“What’s a lady doing in her husband’s war camp?” Robb asked

Y/n rolled her eyes “Whats a Stark doing riding south? Don’t you remember what happened to your grandfather, uncle and recently your father. King Joffery surely knows what he’s doing to do to you”

“Mouthy little thing” Robb smirked

“Fuck you” Y/n said, she had to restrain herself from spitting on him.

***************************

It had been a few days since she had seen Jaime, she missed him. Missed his voice, his scent, how his hands felt on her waist. Everytime someone brought her food she begged to see Jaime. They ignored her. Theon asked what’s so good about the lion. She told him his cock and how he stretched her. Theon rolled his eyes and left.

A direwolf walked in her tent, she crawled to the corner of her cot. She had her knees to her chest

“Good wolf. Yeah, you. Go on I don’t have anything” she said trying not to sound scared.

“Greywind” Robb snapped his fingers and made the wolf sit the entrance.

“King in North” Y/n rolled her eyes

“Lady Lannister” Robb smirked

“I want to see my husband, please” Y/n sighed

“I’ll let you see him but on one condition, love” Robb said sitting on the cot by her feet

“What’s that? My family rides for Lannisters not Stark men” Y/n told the auburn haired king

“I want my way with you, but I want him to watch” Robb said rubbing Y/n’s foot

“Him who?” She asked

Rob was surprised she asked who instead of being offended and declaring her cunt for her Jaime only.

“Your husband, of course. I need answers and he hasn’t gave any so far. Seeing you beg for my cock will surely get to him crack” Robb said

“No! I’d rather you kill me than you fuck me” Y/n gasped

“I seen a Swyft flag this morning, a man looked like you. Is that your brother?” Robb asked

“Ryan, he’s my older brother. One of my father’s heir” Y/n said

“If you don’t let me do what I want, I’ll kill him and I’ll have you watch” Robb said

“Fine fine. Have him brought here, I don’t want the other prisoners seeing me like that or your men. Please” Y/n pleaded

“Well we think a lot a like, lady. Theon, bring the kingslayer in” Robb yelled over his shoulder

“Your Grace” Theon said before winking at Y/n before leaving

Y/n seen Jaime and got off the cot. She took in his appearance, he was practically buried in dirt. He had scruff, he looked exhausted. Old worn clothes, his hands chained behind his back. Y/n hugged him, Jaime leaned his head on her shoulder.

“My poor lion” Y/n muttered as she kissed his forehead as she stood on her tip toes

“Just let him do this twisted thing. Once I get out of here, it will be behind us, my sweet girl” Jaime whispered

Y/n looked at him but shook her yes. She led Jaime to a chair by the cot. Robb was still on her cot as he smirked. He patted his thigh, Y/n cringed as she looked over at Jaime. Jaime nodded his head signaling her to do what Robb wanted her to do.

Y/n climbed on Robb’s lap, the wolf wrapped his arms around her as he turned her to face him only. Her back towards Jaime, Robb squeezed her ass. He yanked her down by her hair and kissed her. Y/n had tears down her cheeks as she kissed him back.

Suddenly Robb had her dress off and pushed her on her back. Robb had her naked as he forced his shoulders between her thighs as he dipped his head to her cunt. Y/n whined as she felt Robb’s hot tongue tracing her hole. It had been a week since she had been touched. Jaime fucked her four times or more a week, he fucked her hard the morning he left the Lannister camp. Robb was eating her like a mad man, he rubbed her clit in tight circles with his finger.

She moaned as she grinded her pussy on his face as he licked her clit down to her asshole. Robb moaned, feeling her sweet cunt on him. Her stomach tightened as she came, her thighs wrapped around Robb’s head. Her hands clenched his auburn curls. Jaime was half hard from Y/n’s whines and seeing cum ooze out of her as Robb raised up.

Robb smirked as he turned his head towards Jaime. He gently raised Y/n up to his chest before stripping down. Y/n’s eyes flickered to Jaime, Jaime gave her a reassuring smile. Robb gently grabbed her jaw to kiss her, this time she clutched her fingers in his hair. Robb had snuck his fingers down to her hole, one finger rubbed the outside. He plunged his two fingers into her weeping cunt. Y/n moaned against his lips.

After making her cum again, Robb released his fingers. Licking them off, he flipped Y/n to her stomach. She was facing Jaime as Robb grabbed her hips. Bringing her ass up, he gave her soft cheeks a couple snacks. Y/n wanted to turn around and slap his face. That was one thing Jaime never did even do for teasing. His punishment was usually face fucking her and throat training her despite her whins. Oddly enough Y/n liked it when Robb slapped her ass, she felt herself clenched around nothing.

“I’ll show you why your father should have sent you to Winterfell instead of that ugly rock” Robb teased her clit

Y/n bit her lip to hide how she was enjoying this. Being fucked by another man while her beloved watched. Jaime however was slowly losing his cool. Y/n was his wife, her pussy was his nobody else’s, her body was something for him to cherish and push her boundaries of pleasure.

Robb finally entered Y/n and he was bigger and thicker than Jaime. Y/n moaned it had been a bit too long to not be filled. She missed cockwarming Jaime, but Robb found new areas to touch. Felt like he was going to rip her into two. Robb slammed his hips against her ass repeatedly, her moans were so sweet. Her cunt was tight, warm and kept him snug, Robb loved. He thought it was worth killing Jaime and having Tywin Lannister kill him for it. Your cunt was sweet but maybe not worth his sisters and family being killed.

Y/n moaned as Robb grabbed her by her long hair making her look back at him. Her eyes meeting his Tully blue eyes, a couple whins falling out of her plump lips. Robb stuck two of his fingers in her mouth. The same ones that fucked her cunt in front of her husband moments ago. She could faintly taste herself on his fingers. She swirled her tongue around his dights, Robb smirked.

“Guess Kingslayer did good, training you. The perfect lady wife, gorgeous body with a sweet cunt” Robb rammed into her

She wanted to knock his stupid teeth out for calling Jaime that. She was the only one who knew why Jaime did it. She agreed with him, sometimes betraying someone will help innocent people live another day. But that was soon forgotten as she came around Robb’s cock. Except he didn’t stop his thrusts until she squirted. He let go of her hair and she fell into the cot, she silently moaned as she came down from her hair.

Damn maybe her father should have sent her North cause Jaime never made her do that. Jaime! It hit her, he was there and witnessed the whole thing. She looked up as Jaime was fuming , his fits were clenched as his chest heaved. Robb chuckled as he seen the kingslayer’s reaction

“Theon! Take Ser Jaime back to his cell” Robb called his friend.

Theon walked in, Y/n saw his hard cock in his pants. Theon grabbed Jaime’s arm as he walked out of her tent.

Robb stood up getting dressed

Y/n watched as Theon was across camp

“You never asked him anything”

“I was going to but the gods blessed you with the best cunt the realm has had. Forgive me for being distracted, my lady” Robb smirked as groped her breast.

“He’s never made me do that” Y/n smirked

“That’s a shame, my lady” Robb said

Y/n crawled off the bed as she stopped in front of Robb. Running her hands down his thighs “Can I tell you thank you?”

“At once” Robb snapped his fingers like he did at Greywind

“Not a dog”

“No, but you did let the wolf have his way with you. After all you are a lions wife, maybe” Robb smirked

Y/n looked up at him and cocked her eyebrows. Robb had a point, a very valid one. How could she ever lay with Jaime without feeling guilty about this night. Of course if Robb released Jaime and her.

[aka-indulgence]

Thoughts? Thoughts you said? Dealer thoughts? 👀 pls?

YES THANK YOU FOR ASKING HHH

(CW: portrayal of gun and violence + random character’s death)

He seems like a guy with a twisted taste for entertainment. Obviously he doesn’t care for human life, regularly dealing with people who gamble their lives for money (or not), you wouldn’t think he’d care about… anyone.

But he cares about you.

He would’ve just finished his last game for the night. The player died on the last round, no defibrillators or blood transfusions left, transported to the dealer’s version of the afterlife. He had 2 defibrillator charges left. He’s been shot about 7 times, but he’s not dead, just on the brink of death- another weekend night for him. He’s not in the mood to die tonight, is all, and he makes his way down to the club where the music blares, the lights are flashing neon colors and the air smells like booze and smoke.

He’s delighted to see you- he’s favorite server in the club. People quickly move away from him- even club regulars who’ve seen his face- are still unnerved by the large man(?) with the crooked teeth and hollow eyes. And even if his face didn’t scare them the shotgun slung over his back certainly would. His delight soon sours when he sees you’re not alone at the bar. Why are you sitting there in the first place? Looks like one of the club-goers caught you, having pulled you to the seat beside him. He’s uncomfortable close, leaning into your space. That alone is enough for him to reach for his shotgun. But even worse…

While you’re distracted, the guy putting his hand on your lap (something the dealer already wants to shoot him for,) the guy reaches over to your drink… and slips some powder into it.

He’s going to have his face blown off.

He crosses the floor, disregarding the club goers and knocking them down like bowling pins.

As you’re being pressured to have a drink (“hey c’mon babe, I went and bought it for you…”), a large arm slams heavily next to you on the bar, calloused hand gripping the glass so hard it’s shaking. The guy jumps back, having seen the face of horror just above your head.

“Hey angel, mind if I have this?” He says, voice strained. He doesn’t wait for an answer. He proceeds to pick up the glass as if to drink, but shatters it against the bar instead.

People stop dancing. The music is still going.

“Hey w-what the hell man?!” the guy stares at the Dealer, as if he didn’t know what he was just doing.

The Dealer shuts him up real quick when he cocks his shotgun. He’s holding the shotgun in front of you, with his arms boxing you in.

“You look familiar. Never seen you upstairs though. Too bad, you didn’t even get to play one round.”

“You should look away, angel.”

Those were the only warnings before a BLAM suddenly rang out, red splattered all over the bar and the floor- and the guy no longer has a face.

Everyone’s screaming, scrambling out of the club. You’re also screaming, but the Dealer can’t help but smile. You were shaking and pushed back into his chest, trying physically distancing yourself from the body.

Just as satisfying as killing the player after a round of double or nothing.

[mylove-iv]

❝could have had it all.❞

ʚ aged up! twilight x fem! reader ɞ

synopsis: the ghost of his past always seems to loom over the hero of twilight's heart and he is forced to look it in its eye yet again. as retribution, he is offered another chance to prevent the untimely death of the ghost in his past that continues to haunt him: the ghost of you.

genres: angst, romance. | mentions an established relationship.

reader specifications: none, no pronouns are used but was written with a female reader in mind.

content warnings: spoilers for twilight princess! mentions of injuries (twilight being hit on head like the in-game event and bomb arrow explosions), time and dimension travel, and implied death.

word count: 1.6k words.

―originally posted on @mydarling-iv, jun. 26. 2023

ʚ masterlist ɞ

The barren and war-torn earth was a strong indication of whose Hyrule they were all thrown in. The Captain needn’t say a word to the rest of them before he’s ushering them away from the castle, which promptly raised a few eyebrows.

“The castle’s that way, Captain.” Legend teasingly murmurs, a smirk tugging his lips as he recalls of the freakishly obsessive women the said reincarnation encountered.

But before Warriors could retort, a gasp leaves some of the member’s lips as they’re suddenly thrown into another portal.

It’s odd this time. Instead of feeling ominous and dark, the gateway within the portal felt wide and open, the space within it constricting while stretching simultaneously.

They catch whispers of places far beyond, unfamiliar and familiar sights flash past members of the chain before it’s only a wisp of color and their feet suddenly touch on solid land.

Confused glances are exchanged as a feeling of deep, foreboding anxiety settles in the pit of Twilight’s gut, almost urging him to throw up his stomach’s contents as he takes in the familiar flora and fauna around the group.

He doesn’t register what the Captain had been saying before Wild elbows his arm softly, snapping him out of his trance before whispering, “You’ve been distracted.”

Twilight blinks at him before nodding, “Have I?” He mutters, tone sounding apologetic causing his successor to give him a small, lopsided grin before motioning his head to the Captain.

“The sands of time within my Hyrule billowed differently before..” He continues but it all clicks for them.

They weren’t only thrown into a different Hyrule, they also traveled back in time.

Those who dealt with the complexities of time inwardly grimaced. Yet Twilight is eerily quiet, the Captain’s words confirming his thoughts while also worsening his dread.

The ranchhand goes silent, an air of unease leaking into the space around him. His eyes reflect a skittish gleam as if anything could set him off anytime soon.

The time and memory of the forest made him anxious, almost mirroring the memory that haunts his dreams—the very last memory he holds of you.

Judging from where they stand, Twilight knows he’s near the scene of the incident—your death—and the realization makes him wince uncomfortably.

His skin tingles from the sun’s hot rays just like it had been years ago on this wretched day. Twilight bristles as his enhanced sense of hearing picks up on the familiar cries and roars of that cursed day.

A painful ache spreads throughout Twilight’s body as his mind wanders to you, and Goddesses, the painful memory intensifies the ache he feels. Sky takes notice of his odd, seemingly pained demeanor and moves his hand to place it on Twilight’s shoulder but it’s only met with air.

He bolts, weaving through the group from his spot at the very back before his silhouette starts to become a wisp of dark fur amongst the shrubbery.

“Twilight!” Sky shouts, starting to give chase after the said man. A split second hasn’t even passed before Twilight’s fellow brothers-in-arms follow his lead, confusion starting to fill their veins as their guards are raised and strengthened.

┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。

It’s odd, the forest is quiet. Birds no longer sang nor trees danced with the wind’s embrace and the wild, erratic beat of his heart is the only sound that fills Twilight’s ears.

His mind drifts to you and an all too familiar ache starts to grow in his chest, one that he’s tried to ignore but is always incessantly lingering.

His childhood best friend, who smiled at everything he’d say regardless of how dumb it was, the very best friend whom he had developed a strong love for and gradually transformed into his childhood lover accompanying him from their halcyon days of their youth to their late teens.

Twilight’s body aches as he reaches the clearing before the bridge and he’s taken to the day you were taken from him.

Hours before he was transformed into a beast of twilight, his village had been attacked by armed bulbins who wracked up a storm of chaos before closing in on the spirit residing in Ordon Spring, effectively throwing the area at the mercy of the twilight that befell upon it.

It was only when you both came back from the woods, hand in hand with Twilight as love-struck grins dotted your faces, that you crossed paths with the bulbins riding atop a giant wild boar, one having an explosive arrow readily nocked.

Twilight had pushed you behind him but the beasts were faster as they took advantage of Epona bolting due to the sudden panic. Being separated by mere meters, he had felt a painful pressure against the back of his head as the world around Twilight became a muddled canvas of colors bleeding into each other.

But before the world had gone dark, an explosion of yellow and red rips out before his eyes. He electric blue orbs catch onto your figure flying backwards, being blown over and into the ravine by the explosion, a scream ripping itself from your throat as you fell.

He now experiences the whole ordeal over again, only now conscious and fully prepared. But time was unkind and mercilessly slipped through his fingers quickly like fine sand. 

He was late by a few minutes and as punishment, Twilight is forced to relive the very moment that kills him inside.

Twilight sees the same bulblin swing its club at his younger self but ignores it as his body carries him farther. He hears the Captain’s shouts of him to come back and regroup as his brothers quickly tear down the foes, but it’s all muffled and drowned out to the Hero of Twilight as his eyes latch onto you.

Confusion filled murmurs reach his sharp ears but he pains no mind, choosing to keep his pale blue eyes steadily fixated on you.

You’re the only thing Twilight could focus on.

But it’s too late.

The very same flurry of red and yellow flashes before his eyes and your pained scream deafens his ears, the heat from the explosion hot against his skin yet why does he burn when your eyes meet his so briefly?

You’re free falling to your death, the very same death he’s lived through and haunts him when the moon rises.

He had lost you before and he might lose you once more.

Hands shifting with the grapple connected to his arm guard, Twilight picks up the pace before he throws himself over the cliff.

The roar of the wind running past his ears deafens Time’s shout and the screams of worry from his fellow warriors of courage, but none of that mattered to him.

Twilight’s focus was solely on you.

And as the wind runs past him, he’s ripped from reality as his thoughts envelope him in a bitter embrace.

He wanted it all—everything related to you; a future together, a simple and safe life together.

Was it such a greedy wish of his?

Mercifully, time seems to slow and his heart breaks at the tears flying from your eyes as your limbs flail wildly against the wind rushing past you.

A flurry of thoughts rushes through his head once more yet one stands out from the rest: what were you thinking of as you fell? 

Did you ever hope he’d come save you? Were you disappointed when you realized he wasn’t coming? Did you ever wish you had never met him? 

The last thought is haunting, pain and anxiety prickling at him as he realized that it was he who insisted for you to come with him on that fateful day.

Twilight’s mind blanks as his fingers brush against yours and the contact alone sends bolts of electricity running atop his skin and all over his body.

It’s a familiar feeling Twilight had been yearning to feel again.

Your eyes snap open, riddled with unshed tears as they blearily focus on his blue seafoam colored eyes.

The eye contact ignites a fire in his heart and Twilight allows himself to finally admit that he misses staring into your eyes which twinkled with delight and love whenever they would meet his.

It’s a familiar occurrence that Twilight repeatedly wished for to happen again.

Twilight’s left arm wraps itself around your waist, pulling your body flush against his causing his heart to bloom at the contact and it sets off a chain reaction.

He catches a faint whiff of your scent and it throws him into the heartwarming memories of your halcyon days filled with obvious pining and poorly hidden love-struck gazes.

It’s a familiar scent that sends him reeling into memories of him placing soft kisses atop your head, interlacing your hands that always seemed to send sparks flying down his spine, and embracing you whenever he’d catch you after a game of tag with the younger village children.

Those memories—the scars of your love—left him breathless as he so badly wished for things to have happened differently.

Twilight had lost you before.

He’ll be damned if he did again. 

Liftings his right arm, Twilight fires the hook before he tightens his grip around your waist.

A grunt tumbles from his lips as the grapple harshly tugs you both, finally latching onto something solid and only does he lower his guard slightly.

His heart stutters before a phantom pain fills his chest as you tightly wrap your arms around his neck, face buried securely in the juncture of his neck.

The smallest of touches causes tremors of lightning to dance on Twilight’s skin and when your eyes meet his, the eye contact alone lights his heart ablaze. 

Despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the shocking effect you've always held over him, the ever so comforting smell of you leaves him relaxed.

Experiencing the things Twilight has repeatedly yearned for felt like a dream and now that you’re in his embrace, alive, deepens the scars of your love forever etched into his heart and the very being of his soul.

Twilight couldn’t help but feel that he could have had it all.

© 2024 𝐌𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄-𝐈𝐕. do not copy, repost, share, or translate any of my works to tumblr, social media, and any other websites/platforms.

[moollypop]

indigo park theory: what ARE the mascots?

i've had many thoughts on this since chapter 1 came out, so this will be a long one.

TW for animal cruelty and abuse below.

first off. they are NOT animatronics. uniquegeese has explicitly said that himself on streams, and this is added on by the fact that mollie literally gets decapitated and dies, blood spurting out of her disembodied head. lloyd and mollie also just, generally look a lot more like living, breathing creatures than just some mascot suits or robots with their fur, feathers. as well as being able to blink and emote.

so that begs the question: how do these exist, if they aren't just robots and are in fact flesh and blood? well... judging by some of the context clues we've gotten so far, i think i can make a guess:

Indigo Park created the mascots through animal experimentation and genetic remodelling.

first off, the mascots themselves. at least, in the state they appear in. they are far more reminiscent of wild, feral animals than killer animatronics or toys or what-not from most other mascot horror games. lloyd in particular stands out in this.

when we first find him, he's all curled up asleep on the theatre stage. again, another point to these being living breathing things if they require sleep. only to then run off on all fours as soon as he wakes up and notices ed, then proceeds to stalk them within the backstage. keeping to the shadows and retreating when he's spotted or isn't in position to properly attack, again, like a real lion stalking its prey until it's within striking distance.

lloyd DOES walk on two feet properly, though. primarily when he trots away after first being sighted in the backstage, and later after ed grabs the key, lloyd does physically walk around even though it isn't visible to the player and he despawns after they leave the room with the key until it's time to do the jumpscare.

(credit to horrorscoped's "what indigo park hides in rambley's railroad and theater areas" video for the screenshots)

second, and what i think is most important to answering this question: mollie macaw. it's established in her death screen that she can mimic things that she's heard, including voices, which macaws in real life can also do. and while it's hard to hear them during her chase sequence, she has SEVERAL voice lines that play. most of them are taken from the rambley's railroad ride from earlier in the chapter, but there are several others that seem to be taken from employees or guests before the park's closure. i'll link a video to them here, but the lines i'm referring to in particular are:

"Stay in your seat!"

"I wanna play with the birdie!"

"Don't touch that thing, son..."

"Get up, you stupid freak."

"Get back in your cage, bird."

"The customer is always right."

the two i'm focused on mainly are fourth and fifth ones, which are undoubtedly park employees. calling her a freak, telling her to back into HER cage... paints a very, very unpleasant picture of what's going on. one that is confirmed even more by an easter egg in rambley rush, where if you fall into the fourth pit while moving to the left, you can find a second mollie inside a cage.

verbally abused and caged up... like a mistreated animal.

so... why? why create these "mascots" instead of having employees dress up in costumes like other parks? they clearly intended to at one point, as they had at least produced a costume for rambley before the mascots entered the picture... simple, really. money.

if you were a business and wanted to maximize profits with little morals, why not try and turn animals into your company's characters for your theme park so you can avoid paying your employees a little extra for going around in costume? if companies are willing to replace writers and artists with AI, why not put in a little more effort to create something else to do that job for you instead of having to pay someone else to do it?

but, something happened. maybe one of the mascots finally had enough and attacked an employee or guest? who knows... whatever the case, the park was suddenly and quickly evacuated with the events being covered up.

and the mascots were left to rot. with no humans to supervise them and keep the instructions and training and company-mandated rules drilled into them, combined with the isolation and likely mental toll it took... they regressed. they slowly lost what made them "mascots" in all but appearance, and now? they're animals again. wild, feral animals. ones that don't see a random person as a guest to greet, but as a smaller, weaker animal. a prey.

and with so many years having passed, likely not having much in the way of food outside of any other wild animals that might happen to wander into the park... they're likely very hungry.

[mybworlds]

Chapter 1: The Mermaid of The Narrow Sea

Title: The Mermaid of the Narrow Sea Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Summary: Essos. You are a slave since you were a little girl. One day you are sold to a mysterious man who could be your only chance to escape and be free.

Masterlist Rating: M Series Warnings: Age gap, slavery, violence, blood, death, alcohol use, slow burn, sexism, smut, dom/sub dynamics, rape attempts Extra warnings: there's a vicious brother (oc), Ellaria is a jealous woman in this story.

Before to start... my idea is to twist Oberyn's biography a little bit and intertwine it with the main character's story and what happens in Westeros in the next chapters, so I'm not sure what will come of it. I hope you like this my (new) story.

This is my second story in the Game of Thrones universe, the other is a SanSan, you can find it in my masterlist, I'm a lil afraid to write about Prince Oberyn 'cause I know he's very loved, who doesn't? ;) If you want let me know what you think about.

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Thanks for the dividers @idontgetanysleep

Fire warms your sun-ruined skin, your hair is a shapeless tangled heap, you wear a tunic too small for your body, it's a woman's body now, not a child's.

Your eyes are likened to burning embers especially when you get angry or challenge even with your gaze your masters. You are a slave. You've been a slave since you were a child. Your mother had been captured when you weren't even five, and since then you along with other men, women and slavers have done nothing but roam the eastern continent.

You are a beautiful young woman, your proud look and posture stand out though you are only a slave. For these your qualities, you are called the Mermaid of the Narrow Sea.

People who had enslaved your mother move from place to place, from inland to the shores of the Narrow Sea.

That day you are dragged by those bloody people back to the shores, and on that day the wind blows hard shaking the barren lands overlooking the Sea and shaking the hair of everyone there. You and other women are gathered there by the cliff, all are afraid since they all fear what may happen to them, you don't. You watch raptly as the waves crash on the rocks, then you scan the horizon with a wistful look.

"Soon, very soon we'll see what you are made of," hisses one of the men threateningly in your ear who had also tried in the past to take you by force.

"I'm not afraid." you challenge him by turning your gaze toward the man who raises his hand as if to strike you, but then has second thoughts: hitting you would not scratch you, take that look away, or satisfy him.

"Someday, you damn bitch, someone will tame you," he says grudgingly and then walks away.

"When that day comes, I'll be ready," you whisper, but it's more of a reminder to yourself to never give up and never bend no matter what happens.

You promised to yourself this ever since you witnessed the rape and murder of your mother. Your mother was sold to a prince or king in Westeros, out of the goodness of this prince or king, whoever he was, you were bought too. One evening, however, the man showed in your quarters, your mother, probably sensing what was going to happen, immediately made you hide in a closet filled with sacks of grain, bread and other food making you swear not to go out or be heard for any reason in the world.

When the man was there, you witnessed something that no one should ever see: your mother, the woman who gave birth to you, the woman who loved you, the woman you always saw as your rock, slapped and thrown to the ground and then her screams overpowered by the man's obscene sounds and words.

You closed your eyes and plugged your ears tightly, almost unable to hear after so much you pressed your palms over your ears. When you dared to open your eyes again, you saw the man's sword rise and fall on your mother's neck and blood gushing copiously on the floor, on her clothes and on the man's sword. Your mother choked in her own blood as the man wiped his sword back against the woman's now blood-soaked dress.

When you were able to come out of your hiding place, you found your mother with her eyes wide open in an expression of pure terror painted on her face, from then on you swore to yourself that no one, ever, would touch you, neither a slave nor a merchant nor a king nor a prince.

"She is the Mermaid of the Narrow Sea, gentlemen." you are introduced by a plump man who sells women for a good price in exchange for wine, silk and spices "Beautiful as you can see, she will be able to satisfy your every fantasy, she is an obedient girl who knows her place."

You stare grimly and hard at all the men who stare at you as if you were an animal for slaughter. You see some talking excitedly, others licking their lips as if you were a tasty exotic dish to be put on the table.

"More than Mermaid seems to me to be ready to rip our throats out," someone comments, provoking general hilarity.

"I kill those who provoke me only," you reply venomously bringing down general silence, slaves don't speak, someone hits you from behind causing you to fall to your knees. The men laugh, but this doesn't make you lose your resolve or your hard stare.

You quickly get back on your feet.

People whisper, the plump man tries to sell you in every way, but no one buys you. One of the slavers pulls you away, when you are in a separate place he ties your hands and feet with a very heavy chain, "I should rip that damned tongue out of you!" the man threatens you and then kicks you in the side and walks away. In front of him you didn't react to that gesture, but now that you're alone you squeeze your eyes and moan in pain, you want to see what he did to you, but you can't.

You hide your head between your legs, you don't cry, you never cry, there is no point in crying, you just have to hold on. The day will come when you will be free and you can get rid of these heavy chains.

The next day someone wakes you up with the usual indelicacy and brutality, they release you from the chains and pull you by the arm, "Move, the market has ended and you're staying with us this time too." you don't know if there is disappointment in his tone of voice or what, for you for sure it'll be another terrible trip. You don't know where you will go, but they certainly won't treat you well, they never have. They are not going to start today.

All of you slaves - mostly women - are chained by the wrists, lined up in a row to each other, your slavers are on horseback, only a couple of them on foot and they are there to poke and prod you to walk, not all of you holding their gait. Someone dies under the scorching sun, someone from lack of food and water. Your lips are parched, your eyes burn from the sun and sweat dripping from your forehead, but you don't give up.

Not today.

Not today.

Not today.

You keep telling yourself, this is not the day you die.

Slavers stop to unhook the dead bodies and as you others who were further behind are about to stop too, one of the damn ones trips you and part surprise and part lack of food, you fall forward.

"Oh, you've fallen, Mermaid!" he uses that nickname with the tone of someone who wants to taunt you, you look at him angrily "I was hoping you'd be the next to die!" he adds with a venomous grin.

"Instead I'm still here," you say grudgingly, he's about to kick you, but you can't take it anymore, you block the man's foot in midair who falls backward. The anger, the pain, the resentment built up over all those years until now explodes with a force and violence you didn't even think you had: you pounce on the man by sitting on him and start punching him repeatedly in the face, you lose count of how many blows you inflict on him, his face becomes a mask of blood and he screams, screams attract the attention of the other men who grab you by the armpits and pull you away, in pulling you away you kick him in the middle of the legs and making the asshole scream once again.

"Fuck you!" you scream in exasperation.

"Now I'm going to kill that fucking bitch," the man says holding his face and making to get to his feet and reach you, one of his own stands between you and you hear him say "At the next slave market in Meereen we'll get rid of her, you'll see." this doesn't quite convince him because his eyes land on your face still distraught with rage and he tries to reach you again, the second man insists "There someone will heal your wounds and we're going to drink good wine, I know there's a good brothel too, you'll relax and forget about her." maybe this convinces him because he looks at you with less hatred and then he looks at his companion, you see him smile and his interest in you fades.

You can breathe.

"Be careful," a dark-skinned man next to you says, you look at him suspiciously "that guy, Aziz, is a dangerous man," he continues, referring to the man you hit.

"I can take care of myself," you retort looking at him grimly.

He chuckles "I saw, but try to avoid any more shows, you are too young to die." he looks at your face, "I hope that when you are sold because you will be, your master will treat you better than you have lived so far." you lower your head for a moment and find yourself barely bending your lips upward, you have never really smiled, doing is so strange.

The city of Meereen presents itself splendid and imposing to your eyes. It's the largest city you have ever been in up to that point, you walk looking upward and your eyes wide open in wonder although you know why you are there. What strikes you most are massive triangular-shaped structures, they are gigantic, who knows what they are for! You are in a noisy city, deafening almost, everywhere there are people buying and selling, there are goods of all kinds and types, before long it will be your turn again and the poor unfortunate souls like you.

They make you wear a knee-length cream-colored dress, one of the slavers dares to move your hair and you in response bite his hand earning you a slap in the face, it hurts, especially if he has hit you with a hand full of rings, "I sure hope you leave, you insolent fool."

When they have fixed you and made you presentable for sale, you get out of there. You are in chains again and this time you go to a wide open space that is swarming with all kinds of people, from prospective buyers to the merely curious. You keep your head down. Buying and selling is something that has always made you sick and that you have always refused to listen to; you go up on some kind of stage as if you were there to make a spectacle of yourself, you feel a disgust at those pigs selling you and the equally obscene buyers watching you as juicy meat to be put on the table.

"She is the Mermaid of the Narrow Sea," once again you are introduced this way by a huge man who pulls you by the arm beside him to show you to the audience of shoppers. You stare at the many faces, your head spinning, wishing to be left alone, to escape, but...

"I offer 1,000 copper stars," you hear one man shout, "2,000," shouts a second, you move your eyes from corner to corner, then there is an offer that interrupts all possible bids "10,000 gold dragons," everybody's head turns hearing such a sum. You remain breathless, no one had ever bid that much for someone like you, you try to spot the buyer, but he's wearing a hood therefore it's impossible to tell who he is.

"Sold." decrees the man beside you, you are immediately grabbed by the arm by someone else who hisses grudgingly in your ear "Finally, you damn whore, your time has come, now you will know that we were only docile lambs!"

It's Aziz, you look him in the eyes and with an expression full of disgust you tell him "Finally I've ruined that ugly face of yours, you monster!" he's about to hit you, but he's interrupted once again from another man "Stop it, it's none of our business now, go and collect from the buyer and hand it over to him now, it's none of our business anymore." says the second man barely looking at your face.

You and Aziz exchange one last glance, before he finally - and forever - walks away from you, you will never see him again. You hint a smile.

You are free from his obscene look, his stinking breath, his slimy hands. Free.

Free to go to another cage. The smile disappears again.

You are not free at all, you never will be.

The buyer enters the tent, he still has his hood over his head, and only then does he take it off, he's a man maybe in his fifties, or maybe something more, and then you realize that you can no longer escape the violence that has always marked your life and hollowed out your skin, you can never escape, never.

You are always a prisoner.

"I was just sent to buy you, I'm handing you over to your master's brother," is all the elderly man says to you, you can only nod, you are still a cargo.

The man pulls away the curtain and invites you to follow him, invites? Oh, it would be the first time someone has treated you like a person instead of an animal. You obey, you cannot object. Your hands are still tied and then there are too many people, you want to run away, but not now. Not today.

Just a little further on, there is a palanquin on which the man makes you get on and then he gets on as well. You don't speak, he barely looks at you, you are on alert, you don't know what the man's real intentions are, he might attack you, tempt violence, you don't let him out of your sight. You are ready to snap.

The palanquin stops, the man gets out before you and then helps you down. You are... in front of a brothel, you can't believe it, your master has bought you to make you a whore, your lips tremble and you lower your gaze for a moment, "Come." the man says in a sigh, holding you by the arm, you don't have the strength to resist and at the moment not even the strength to run away, even if you wanted to.

You climb the steps of the building and enter, the room stinks and it's dark. You can hear in the distance the unmistakable sounds and moans of sex, laughter, someone sneaks up totally naked in front of the two of you, you widen your eyes frightened, maybe you should start getting used to it, you will stay there now. Your master probably runs the place, maybe he himself will want to first-- you try to restrain yourself from vomiting at the idea, at the horror of that scene.

You wander between the various rooms until you come to a last room to which the elderly man knocks once, twice, three times with his fist as if it were a signal, someone from inside opens and leaves the door open. The elderly man opens the door completely and lets you in as well, "I have brought what your brother wants, my Prince."

"Hand her over to him don't give her to me," says a bored voice from behind, it's a man, looking out the window, he's rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"My Prince, Prince Mors said to give it to you--"

"To spite me!" he exclaims "He knows how I feel about it, and what does he do? He orders you to bring me a slave he wants! Set her free," he sentences again without looking at you, you widen your eyes, not knowing what to expect.

"My Prince, I'm sorry, but your brother..."

The other man sighs, "I know, but if it were up to me, I would free everyone."

"I understand, my Prince, but without slaves there would be no one left to perform certain tasks and chores," the elder continues.

The two of them keep talking as if you are not there with them, you start to think that maybe if you start walking slowly backwards, maybe... at that moment the younger man turns toward you and you don't really know why, but you almost feel like you've been paralyzed by his piercing gaze: your eyes plant themselves in his, you find yourself swallowing without even knowing why, you can't lower your gaze even though in front of that man's you'd like to, his gaze almost seems to want to burn you inside, it's such a strange feeling, so disturbing, you see his lips stretch upward and then you realize that's the end.

You can't move anymore.

[dreams-of-me]

Why Don't You Love Me?

Eren x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: domestic abuse!, toxic! Eren, semi-public sex, verbal abuse!, cervix kissing, deep penetration, vaginal penetration, creampie, overstimulation, AFAB Reader, BIPOC reader.

This is a prompt for my dear friend. She is a Yeagerist just like me and she deserves a fanfic that will make her coochie throb! This is based off the relationship between Nate and Maddie from Euphoria and I will not be taking and questions at this time.

"You're such an asshole leave me the fuck alone."

"Oh I'm the asshole because you want to show your ass to other men while you belong to me?"

" I don't belong to anyone but my fucking self, and if I were to belong to someone it wouldn't be you Eren. "

Eren's rage had reached his limit and grabbed you by your throat. He slammed you against the nearest wall and brought his lips close to your ears as he spoke slowly and calmly.

"Listen here bitch, you belong to me even if you don't want to. Even if we break up, you belong to me. You're mine got it."

You couldnt breathe Eren was at least a foot and a half taller than you and her was holding you up by your neck. You looked at him calmly as he spoke because even though the position you were in was painful and terrifying, you could not help yourself when the thought of him fucking you right up against the same wall. You were undeniably aroused by that little vein that popped out of Eren's neck as he spoke.

He let you down and you gasped for air as he walked away. You knew he could've killed you if he wanted but everything before this moment is really what kept you with him. Everything before this moment is what allowed the relization that everything he just told you is true. Even if he were to kill you, you'd be his.

Eren was the type of guy that was absolutely smoking hot and he knew it. Because he knew it he walked around Shiganshina Secondary School like he owned it. He was the social king, the football captain, the hottest guy in school, and average level intelligence. Unfortunately, this made it super apparent that he need a queen very soon as he was in his Junior Year and people were starting to believe that he was Gay from hanging around his best friend Armin so much and Mikasa didn't help as she looked at every girl that got close to him with a death stare.

Eren was also very picky. He didn't want a girl that was too tall or too short. About medium height. Had to be practically hairless, they need a nice rack and a fat ass. More importantly the needed to be confident. He also had a thing for POC girls, how their darker skin seemed to glow in the honey sunlight of golden hour. How the gold jewelry always complimented their skin, and the Lucious lips that was always beautifully adorned with all types of gloss. God, don't even get him started on how they smelled. Which is what brought him to you. You walked past him on the way to your class and he smelled warm vanilla and linen with a fruity scent. He turned around and watched you ass sway away from him as you entered your class.

Later that day he looked for you in the cafeteria. He spotted you with a teammate, Jean it looked like you were reviewing some class work so he walked over to you both.

"No Jean, this needs to be done by tomorrow so that we both have time to prepare to the game this Friday."

"Okay fine ill get it done as soon as I can. Oh what's up Yeager-"

"You're gorgeous. Give me your number?"

"You're not too bad yourself. Its XXX-XXX-XX34." You say confidently. Your lips move with such slow ease that he is entrapped hearing nothing but what he might imagine your moans sound like under him.

"I'll see you at the game this weekend QB 1, but hopefully. I get to see you sometime before that. Text me."

"Yeager, you're hot shit and everything but we have practice let's go."

Eren picked his jaw up off the floor as he watched your hair swing behind you as you walked, turned your head quickly to find him staring then winked. He felt is heart jolt and blood rush straight to his dick. That's the moment where he knew you had to be his queen.

"OH FUCK YES"

"I know, take it all for me."

"EREN FUCK"

"Dirty mouth, its okay I like that. Are you ready for me."

"Please please plea- AH FUCK"

"Fuuuuck."

You would assume this was a porno. You're in a dark and empty classroom blinds closed as the band plays the start of the halftime performance for the night. A classic, Seven Nation Army. The scent of popcorn and hotdogs from the concession stand was in full blast. This was their first game of the season and in the first two quarters Shiganshina's football team had a 21 point lead to 7 from the opposing team.

You had been texting Eren nonstop about everything. Talking about sweet nothings. Getting showered with compliments as well as the occasional gift at the end of the school day. A new set of nails, some lingerie shopping, and of course perfume for your collection. He loved how you smiled when he bought you things, and you adored that he bought you things. The make shift relationship you found yourself was perfect. At the end of the week the night of the game you found yourself holding hands with him walking down the hallway. He kissed you deeply and he told you to text him as he grabbed your ass before walking away.

You liked that Eren was sweet and although affectionate, he wasn't feening for sex...but you were. You'd drool as he'd send you pictures of himself fresh out of the shower after practice. Or when he wore those tight black t-shirts with a gold chain that hugged his arms and pectoral muscles just right. The way his jaw clenched when he focused as he pulled his hair back into a bun made your pussy clench with ease. You were done playing nice.

"Aw princess, did you think I forgot about you?"

"Shut up, no one gives a fuck about you or your ego."

You admit that your personality also changed when you got with him, you were the center attention because you were together, you had the best clothes and style because of him. Girl and guys alike all looked at you like the queen he made you out to be, and if you were his queen, Ymir so help you that your wouldn't take what's yours when you wanted it.

"Watch it Y/N, you know I like when you talk dirty but talking shit is different."

"What you're gonna let little old me bruise your fucking god complex? If I can do it than any other little fucker in this school can and you're just as much of a failure as your older brother and crazy ass father."

You also admit that you took that comment too far in trying to rile him up and unfortunately you paid the fucking price. Family is a sensitive topic for Eren and there is only so much teasing he can take before he snaps. And that's exactly what he did, at the drop of a hat he turned you around and grabbed you by the neck slamming you against the wall of the athletics building where you were both walking to practice.

"Listen up bitch, I don't care what you have to say about me but my family is off fucking limits, not that you would ever know or care about yours seeing as you're so fucking detached from them. "

You looked at him fighting to breathe eyes low and slightly seductive but tearing up as you were being held up by your neck to his height. You grasped at his hand for some leverage but his grip on your neck provided no such thing.

"You're fucking job is to walk around on my arm, look like the hottest bitch in heat that I picked up and suck my cock when I ask you to, questioning me, my athourity, or my family is not part of it and I never wanna hear shit from uppity slut like you… Got it”

He released his hold and you came crashing down.

Fighting to inhale oxygen into your lungs and coughing when the burn of the oxygen passes finally.

He stood there looking down at you unamused.

With a tear in your eye, you look up at him neck already beginning to bruise with a yellowish hue.

“Why don’t you love me?” you said being the most genuine you’ve every been in months.

He scoffed, picked you up and kissed you. Not like usual, not an apology for his abuse but proof that he does care for you in his own twisted way. And that was enough you felt. Enough for you.

He’s always loved doggy style, loved watching your plump ass clap back at him and wave in all it’s glory. So you weren’t surprised when he pushed you away from the kiss and turned you around. Bending you against the wall and hiking your cheer skirt up, pulling the shorts and panties down.

Next thing you knew you felt his dick pressed up against your rubbing against your ass “dumb questions get dumb answers”.

He rammed himself into you, filling you all the way up and sucking his teeth at your tightness. You couldn’t control your moans, he just fucked you so deeply and with so much intent that it was hard not to voice your every sensation.

“Ahh- Erennn”

“mhm say my name.”

“fuck eren, just like that”

You were getting whiplash because right when you said that he pulled out and turned you around again. Lifting you up so that your ankles locked around his hips. Nestling your drippy pussy on his tip.

He gripped both your ass cheeks and pressed you down, fully in-bedding himself in you.

“Fuckkkkkk, ahh it’s so deep”

“just how i like it.”

He continued his pace from earlier as you threw your head back in complete euphoria. He kept it going as if you weighed even less than a feather.

“You’re such a needy bitch, why didn’t you tell me you needed some dick earlier. All of this could’ve been avoided”

It fell on deaf ears obviously because the pain from your neck and the pleasure from your pussy we’re mixing soooo well.

“Ah- More, please more”

He did exactly that pushing himself deeper into you with every thrust, your wetness dripping on the pants of his uniform. He used that wetness to slip a finger in your ass and if you were full before you’re way over the limit now.

“Ngahhhh too muchhhh “

“what, you just asked for more. Take what i give you”

3 more thrusts in and you were cumming all over him, you held onto him for dear life clawing at his back knowing he’d pay for your new mani when you complain about it next week. You didn’t expect him to keep thrusting into you after you came.

“AHHH NOOO”

“Shut the fuck up”

He thrusted deeper, harder, but so much slower because he knew now that you were done he was next. He relished every second of your cries, how you were still fluttering around him but tightening as he pushed into you deeper.

You started shaking as your second orgasm finally took over and he came right along with you, groaning into you ear.

“Shiiiiiiitttttt, ahhh”

You were non-verbal, eyes rolled back as a stream of clear liquid made itself present between the both of you.

He kissed you again. Hotter, more passionate. Gripping the nape of your neck to push both of you deeper into it.

You wrapped your hands in his hair become slightly more conscious.

By the time you both were done practice had ended.

You both texted your coaches about not feeling well including a picture of your soaked uniform lying about “throwing up”.

You went the locker rooms, changed and walked to Eren’s car hand in hand.

You spent the night at his house, exhausted enough to not care about his 30 minute shower. But when he came back, god he smelled amazing. He wrapped you in the blanket before getting into bed himself.

You cuddled into his chest as he stared at the ceiling waiting for sleep to take him.

“what makes you think i don’t love you?”

you don’t respond, pretending to be asleep but with your head and heart wide awake. You know now, those word will never have to be said again

You fell asleep feeling happy, but nothing could prepare you for the week to come when the bruises took their final form…

[dawn-moths]

"Till Death, What's Left"

CHAPTER 1

Tomura & Dabi x Female Reader

word count: 23,000+

part 1 * part 2 * part 3 * ...

(A quirkless AU where after fleeing a treacherous incident, you find yourself caught up in the company of two strangers who also seem to have just narrowly escaped their own horrors. Unexpected events keep the three of you crossing paths. Maybe it’s twisted coincidence. Maybe it’s fate. And maybe, just maybe, the three of you could make the perfect trio to perform a string of robberies with payouts high enough to change your lives forever.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! concept inspired by the music video for “365 Fresh” by triple h, title taken from the lyrics, drug mention, drinking, sexual harassment/assault, violence, blood/gore, suicidal thoughts/actions, angst and trauma, jealousy, love triangle, the songs mentioned in this fic are "Audi A4" by MISSIO and "Johnny Wants To Fight" by badflower.

*i'm reposting this fic in hopes that it reaches a wider audience this time given it originally went up back when i was sh*dowb*nned. also because chapter two will be coming out soon and i'll be putting in a lot more consistent work into it throughout this year.

*ao3 mirror*

***

The alleyway was narrow, cluttered with stray trash cans and empty produce crates and abandoned pieces of furniture that were littered with holes, serving as a metropolis for the vermin that scampered through the dirty, downtown streets.

The clouds covered the moon, another storm likely on its way based on the warnings grumbling from the distant, low rumble of thunder, the air thick with the humidity of the summer season. Suffocating, almost. Each breath taken was labored, the acrid tastes emanating from the city laying heavy on one’s tongue.

And, as painful as it was to draw in air under normal circumstances amidst this kind of weather, Dabi was running, his lungs burning every time he forced them to suck down more oxygen. His spiky black hair stuck to his forehead and back of his neck with a layer of building sweat, his old black boots nearly falling apart at the soles, brittle laces threatening to snap every time he got lucky enough to tie them up again.

He moved quickly through the obstacles of the alley, swiftly— like the stray cats that were spooked back into hiding with the sound of his fast falling footsteps coming near— but not nearly quick enough.

From behind him, the shouts were always right on his tail.

At the most, their angry voices were only ever the turn of a single corner away, at the least, close enough to grab his beat up old black denim jacket and yank him to the ground by the tattered collar.

If he could get to the abandoned apartment complexes further into the slums, he could lose his pursuers, weave his way through the crumbling buildings, his long, thin limbs slithering smoothly like snakes through the maze of gaps and holes that he knew so well— almost as if they were merely the halls of his childhood home.

Dabi wasn’t accustomed to getting caught. In fact, he’d only ever been sighted twice before, back when he’d first taken to this life after running away at the age of sixteen from the city that now loomed in the foggy distance. The beatings he’d sustained from the rival gangs back then, the near death experience of having his head kicked in by men twice his size and strength paired with the metallic taste of blood running down his throat had taught him to abide by one simple rule.

Don’t steal from someone you can’t outrun.

And Dabi was fast. Always had been, whether it be by wit or physical speed. But tonight, after enduring the beginnings of withdrawal from his beloved painkillers, his vision starting to sway, setting his balance off just enough, he wasn’t on his usual game.

The real kicker of it all is that he could see them come into view— the silhouette of the rundown, deserted apartments only a block or two away— just before his next step found a deep puddle and his feet slid out from under him, body slamming into the brick wall of the connecting alley before the back of his head smacked down on the grimy, cracked asphalt with a sickening thud.

It took his chasers four more strides to catch up, jumping on him immediately and snatching back the cash he’d swiped before beginning the third— and possibly final— beating that Dabi had ever experienced on these harsh streets.

His pale, tattoo covered skin was split with streaks of red, bruises blossoming in deep blue and violet shades across his face and body with every punch, every kick, every deadly impact from the gang as they told him— promised him— that they were going to kill him for this. The blood mixed with the sweat and ran in rivulets down his face, his teeth grit so hard with the pain that he feared they might crack.

But Dabi didn’t beg for mercy, didn’t even ask them to stop once.

He hadn’t the first time he’d been in this situation, or the second time, and now, he almost couldn’t help but laugh after his enemies left him to die lying in that alley.

They should’ve killed me, he thought through his sinister hysteria. They should’ve fucking killed me.

Because pain wasn’t something that Dabi feared.

Pain was like an old friend.

When he knew it was coming— and even when the visit was unexpected— Dabi welcomed the pain.

Because the pain meant he was still alive, even if just out of spite.

But he needed to get more of his pills. 

The pills weren’t the farewell to his old friend, pain.

The pills were an “I’ll see you soon.”

He liked the painkillers at night, when he was trying to sleep. Couldn’t sleep without them these days. But after a big break a few weeks back, Dabi had found himself with some extra time on his hands. More time to kill. More time to sleep.

So his nighttime hobby bled into the day, accompanied him through his afternoons and mingled with his lonely evenings.

Before he knew it, he’d found himself in a full blown love affair with the little white pills. His cruel, addictive mistress.

And he needed more.

He desperately needed more.

He’d do anything— had risked his life once already that night— and showed no signs of stopping.

After a while, he sat up with a groan of suffering, clutching his side where he was sure at least two of his ribs were broken, and braced himself against the cold brick wall of the alley to get back on his own two feet.

He had a bloody nose, a split lip, several other cuts and bruises marking his person, one of the more notable ones being a black welt under one of his eyes, the sclera dyed with red where a blood vessel had burst, contrasting starkly against his cobalt blue irises.

Dabi had already looked like hell on a good day and now…

Well, at least he still had his boots, even if they were falling apart.

So he kept moving, preparing to chase the next opportunity for cash.

Because he needed this tonight.

He’d lose his goodman mind if he saw the sun come up and his limbs were still shaking and his blood felt icy hot in his veins.

He was only a few blocks away from the nightlife district. Could practically see the red neon and blinking lights from where he staggered in the darkness.

So he started walking— limping, more accurately— trying not to scrape one aching foot on the pavement behind him where one of the bastards had tried to snap his ankle, and slipped into a shitty looking bar where the light was low enough that the other patrons hopefully couldn’t see his severe state of appearance.

“Hello, ladies,” Dabi began smoothly after clearing some thick, blood infused salvia from his throat, slinking towards the main bar where he saw two lone women drinking with one empty seat between them. He slipped onto the vacant stool and draped his arms over both their shoulders, limbs heavy with fatigue and radiating heat from the fading adrenaline.

They gave him varying glares of disinterest and disgust, but Dabi didn’t mind that.

It wasn’t the girls he was after tonight, anyway.

It was the set of shiny car keys that were placed oh so naively on the counter next to one of the women, the black and silver of the key fob taunting him, begging to be swung around his long, boney, tattoo covered fingers, tossed up into the air, caught, and pocketed as he strolled out of the bar and towards his new ride.

That oughta sell for enough cash to fund his drugs.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you both seem to be alone tonight…” Dabi’s lithe grasp inched closer towards the keys, slow and steady so as to not raise suspicions, yet it was killing him inside not to just snatch them and run. If not for the recent beating, he would’ve. “Might I interest you in my company?”

“We’re good, thanks,” one of the women shot back as she aggressively shrugged Dabi’s arm off her shoulders.

“Awww, c’moooon…” Dabi cooed condescendingly, eyebrows pulled together and lifted with faked disappointment. “Don’t be like that.” His fingers were nearly at the keys now. Just a few more inches and then…

“Dude, are you deaf?” the other asked rhetorically, also irritated at the unwelcome advances. “We’re not interested. Now get lost.”

And…

Just a little closer…

A liiiiiiittle closer…

Bingo.

“Alright, alright…” Dabi stood from the barstool, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets and beginning to step away. “Just tryna be a gentleman, jeez…” And then, just as he’d played out in his fantasy, as he exited the bar and stepped back into the city streets, he twirled the keys around one finger, tossed them into the air, caught them, and headed towards the car whose headlights blinked from down the block as the unlock button from the keys was sensed.

“Dumb bitch,” he chuckled under his breath as he turned the keys in the ignition, hearing the engine start up as the radio turned on, pulling out of the poor excuse for a parallel parking job and speeding off back towards his part of town.

As the high of his success coursed through his veins, he caught onto what song was playing and cranked up the volume, the windows shaking with the bass as “Audi A4” by MISSIO blared through his stolen car.

“I know you’re watchin’!” he called out with the loud song, approaching an intersection where the light had just turned yellow, pressing down harder on the gas pedal. “My A-Team’s rockin’!” There was another vehicle approaching from the adjacent lane, their light soon to turn green. “And I’m not stoppin’!” He ran the red light as he sung along, laughing to himself when the other car slammed on their brakes and held down their horn at him. “One! Two! Three! Four!”

And with that, Dabi had officially crossed back into his part of town.

***

You were just closing up for the night, working the late shift at the privately owned salon and barber shop that you’d gotten a job at by a friend of a friend.

You fucking hated this place.

It always smelled like mold, especially after it rained, and the owner always gave you the jobs no one else wanted to do on top of the job you’d been hired to do, which had originally been to cut hair.

No, your misogynistic, ugly bastard of a boss didn’t even try to hide it. He made it plain as day what his real intentions were in hiring you.

You gotta get into all the cracks and crevices, he’d remind you with a sleazy smirk, watching you with hungry eyes as you got down on your hands and knees to scrub the floor. If you don’t do it this way, it’ll never get clean.

He complained about having to come in to “check on you” all the time, yet always found it in his “busy schedule” to watch you do something as degrading as scrubbing in between the mildew ridden linoleum with a toothbrush. Always had something to say about what you wore to work, no matter what it was, and had even slapped you on the ass a few times before as a “joke”.

Too bad you needed this job. Wouldn’t survive without it. Not unless you wanted to go work at the cheapest strip club in the red light district just to pay for some microwavable meals and barely scrape by on rent.

Yeah, you fucking hated this place. You often spent your time daydreaming about burning it down as you snipped the dead ends off of people’s hair, fantasizing about slitting your boss’s throat with a pair of scissors or straight razor as he hovered nearby and watched you blow dry and style your clients’ new looks.

But tonight, just about ready to walk out of this shithole that you still couldn’t believe anyone came back to, let alone could find in its hole in the wall location, you let out an exasperated sigh when you heard the cheap, rust-rotted bells— one of which was broken— jingle above the front door.

“We’re closed!” you called as you folded the last cloth poncho up and tossed it over one of the chairs. Then just to yourself you mumbled, “God, can’t anyone read the sign…”

But then you sucked in a gasp at the sight of the large, lumpy silhouette that belonged to your boss standing in the entrance to the salon, clutching your heart as he startled you.

“I’m just closing up,” you began as you caught your breath, wanting to get out of here even more now. “What? You forget something?”

“No,” your boss stated sternly as he stepped further into the salon and closer to you, you instinctively taking a step back towards the sinks. “You have one final customer.” He sat down in one of the three chairs and you felt your stomach sink.

This motherfucker.

“Well, are you gonna do your job or are you only good for sweeping and scrubbing floors?!” he snapped, shaking you from your creeping dread.

You grabbed your scissors and comb, trying to steady your shaking hands as you draped the poncho over him.

He was watching you from the mirror, beady eyes glued to the little bit of cleavage that showed from your button up shirt, only ever drifting to find your thighs that were exposed below your jean skirt.

Fucking pervert, you cursed him with distain, snipping away at his greasy, thinning hair as your rage began to boil.

“Oh, and I want a shave too, alright, sweetheart?” he added, mocking tone proving that he knew he was getting under your skin and enjoying every second of it.

Once you were done with his hair you grabbed the straight razor and shaving cream, trying to remain expressionless as you slathered his face with the white foam, refusing to meet the predatory gaze that he kept trained on you while you worked.

“You better not cut me,” he threatened with a leer, flashing the gaps in between his crooked, discolored teeth, some of which were missing entirely. You opened the straight razor, the metal gleaming sinisterly under the fluorescent lights. “If you do…” His hand found your thigh, sliding up to squeeze your ass over your skirt, making you flinch and grit your teeth, jaw flexing in venomous vexation. “You’re not gonna like the consequences.”

Yeah, well you’re not the one with a razor to my neck, motherfucker, you thought with burning malice.

You could see it so clearly, practically feel it as you sliced the blade across his fat neck, skin parting like a hot knife through butter as dark, dangerous red spilled out and drenched his pit-stained polo with gore.

You were sure that no one would miss him.

In the very least, you and your co-workers— the few of them that you had— would be free from his fucked up definition of flirting.

But what would you do with the body?

Surely you couldn’t lift him on your own and you’d probably expend more energy than you currently had available to drag him into the alley out back.

And what about the blood?

You could try to mop it up but…

“What’s the problem, hon?” he asked in that patronizing way you fucking hated when he noticed you hesitating. His hand began to worm its way up under your skirt, a few of his rough, thick fingers sliding under the waistband of your panties at your hip. “I hope you don’t take this long with regular customers.”

Your grip tightened around the straight razor, face scrunching up in disgust and discomfort.

“Hey!” he snapped when you didn’t give a reply, his grip tightening on you as well, making you hiss through clenched teeth and finally shoot your gaze down to meet his. His sharpness softened then, as if he’d won something, another revolting smirk spreading across his thin lips. “Do a good job and I’ll make sure and give you an extra good tip, ok?”

You let out a slow, only slightly shaky exhale, and then, with the blade pressed to his neck, you began to drag the razor along his stubbly skin, careful not to nick him.

He took his hand off you— for now, at least— but that did nothing to ease the fury that was expanding in your chest.

It’d be so easy, the idea whispered ominously. He’s in no position to run, no position to fight back. You have him exactly where you want him. Exactly where you need him.

Like a hot knife through butter.

Once you were done, using a warm towel to dab off the remaining shaving cream, your boss rolled himself from the chair with a grunt and went to inspect your work up close in one of the many mirrors.

“Not baaaaaad…” he praised in a rough, sing-songy tone, again making a lump of anxiety settle in your throat. You tried to swallow it down before you’d have to speak to him again, if he found a way to get another response out of you.

He turned to face you as you refolded the poncho and tossed it back over the chair, huffing out a breath of annoyance.

But just before you could turn around to hurry past him down the short hallway and exit the shop, one of his big hands found your shoulder, startling you yet again. “Now…” Your eyes went wide with terror as his expression morphed into something violent, something that spelled more than just unwarranted touching or sexist remarks. “How about I give you that tip I promised, hm?”

He was pressing you against the sink counter before you got the first syllable of your protest out, your hips digging painfully into the edge while his growing erection rubbed up against the back of you.

“Stop!” you shouted, fighting to break free. “Stop! Let go!”

The straight razor sat open next to the sink.

“C’mon now…” he growled, pushing into you harder as he tried to hold you still, pressing your chest flat to the counter as you twisted and writhed under his grip. “Don’t be difficult. That’ll just make things harder for the both of us.”

Your blood ran cold, causing you to struggle harder, screaming out loud and shrill.

He slapped a hand over your mouth and you bit into his skin, making him curse and then rake his fingers roughly through your hair, grabbing at the roots and forcefully slamming your head down onto the sink counter, making you body shudder with the pain and then still momentarily from the daze of the impact.

The straight razor still sat open next to the sink, the glint of light off the blade blurring in and out of your spinning vision.

“You think I keep you around here ‘cause you’re actually good at cutting hair?” your boss taunted through a short, curt chuckle, undoing his belt as he kept you pinned against the counter. “Yeah, guess you’re as dumb as you are pretty, hon.”

You reached out, movements sluggish at first, and grabbed the razor, sliding it towards you.

“Maybe you should work late more often,” he had the audacity to say next, tugging your panties down, the sounds of threads tearing making your heart hammer in your chest with panic and your stomach turn with nausea. “Maybe, if you’re good, I’ll give you a raise…”

You began to push up from the counter, spine trying to straighten, the razor gripped tight in your trembling first.

But it wasn’t fear that was making you shake right now.

No.

Now it was nothing but pure, white hot, blinding rage.

“Little slut. Always coming to work dressed like a whore. You can’t exactly blame me for—” But the next insult was cut short as the deadly end of the straight razor buried itself into the disgusting man’s throat, his sputtering gags filling the space where his words used to be as liquid red ribbons spurted from his jugular.

You yanked the blade from his neck, a spray of red speckling your face and front of your button up shirt as you winced and closed your eyes, more of the gore spilling from his neck from between his fingers as he stumbled back and tried to apply pressure to the wound.

You watched as he tripped over his own feet and almost fell back into the chair he’d just had you shave him in, but missed by a couple feet and instead smacked the back of his head against the metal arm rest before dropping like a bag of rocks to the linoleum floor.

The razor was still in your hand, blood dripping off the end of the blade that reflected the bastard’s final dying breaths.

He gaped at you with wide eyes, reaching out with his free hand and seeming to be attempting to plead, to beg for help or mercy or any of the other things he would never have shown you.

But you weren’t a monster like him.

You weren’t going to leave your prey to writhe and squirm in agony.

Because you weren’t a coward either.

No.

For better or for worse, you were going to finish the job.

Like a hot knife through butter, huh?

Let’s find out.

You approached him slowly, careful to stay out of reach from his grabbing hands that would likely pull you down to the floor by your ankle and try to get the one up on you again in his final moments. When you realized just how weak he was growing from the bloodloss, you straddled his fat body, probably giving him one last hard on before it all came to an end. Because the next thing you did was drive the razor into the base of his neck, right where there would’ve been a dip in his collar bones if they’d been visible, repeating the vicious motion until his struggling had finally stilled and he lay there unmoving, his blood covering you both, the light having left his squinting, rodent-like stare.

You stepped off of him then, watching the blood pool around him for a minute or two before the weight of it all came crashing down on you. The straight razor slipped out of your hands, which were trembling in fear now, all prior rage-fueled vengeance gone. And it was the metallic clang of the weapon hitting the floor that finally pulled you back down to earth.

“Fuck…” you exhaled through a shaky breath, looking down at the blood that covered your hands, hasilty wiping them on your jean skirt with splotches of red before rushing over to grab all the ponchos you’d just folded, throwing them down and trying to soak up all the blood that was continuing to pour from his person.

“Fuck… Fuck… Fuck!”

Thank god it was closing, but still. The night would only last so many hours. Would you have enough of them to get rid of the body and hide the evidence before tomorrow morning’s clients came knocking?

***

There was so much blood. Way more than you thought there’d be, that was for sure. All the ponchos were ruined with a dark, rusty red. Discarded thoughtlessly in the dumpster out back where you’d painstakingly dragged the body to slump alongside all the trash it belonged with.

Someone would find him. There was no doubt about that.

But by then, you’d be gone. The shop would be clean. Or clean enough to buy you a little more time, at the very least. And you’d most likely have packed the few belongings you had back at your dingy, cramped apartment and skipped town.

You didn’t know where you were going but the one thing you did know was that you couldn’t stay here.

It had to be nearly two in the morning when you finally stumbled out of the shop, not remembering if you locked up behind you but not giving a shit at this point, hurrying down the short span of alley that would lead you back out onto the hopefully abandoned main streets, when the blinding glare of oncoming headlights stopped you in your tracks, causing you to freeze in the middle of the narrow road where a car was barreling towards you.

If it killed you, at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the cops hunting you down.

But it stopped with a jolt and a screech only a few feet before colliding with you, the driver inside slamming back against the headrest with the force before you both just stared at each other through the windshield with wide-eyed, surprised and terrified expressions.

Dabi noticed the blotches of red that were freckled across your white shirt, the smudges of rust on the faded denim of your skirt, saw the bits of blood that had dried in your hair and on your face where you thought you’d wiped the evidence away.

He turned down the blaring music and opened the driver’s side door, stepping out and looking at you for a moment as the headlights continued to cause you to squint and shield your vision with one hand, only able to see the stranger’s silhouette— a tall, lanky shadow with spiky, wild hair.

What he’d meant to say was get out of the road, but instead what came out was, “Need a ride?”

You nodded, trying to gulp down the remnants of the trauma you’d just been through over the past couple of hours.

“Then get in.”

So you did, having no problem listening to this man without hesitation— well, you had minor hesitation, but still— though you supposed that this man hadn’t tried to assault and rape you.

If he did, you wouldn’t have your straight razor, but now that you’d done it once, you supposed you wouldn’t be afraid to kill again.

But he didn’t try to put his pale, tattoo covered hands on you. Just glanced down at the blood that stained your hands and asked with a sarcastically curious, “What happened?”

“Nothing…” you shook your head, trying to hide your hands by sitting on them, feeling the still drying blood sticking to the underside of your thighs, staring out the window and hoping that he would become more distracted by the road than your crime. “You can just drop me off near the train station.”

The man, who you now noticed had tattoos not just on his hands but pretty much everywhere— the ink trailing up his wrists and arms, his neck, even some migrating under his eyes— along with cuts and bruises of his own, and bright, clear, damn near entrancing blue eyes simply put the car into drive and continued down the narrow side street towards where you’d directed him.

***

Tomura Shigaraki had tried to kill himself numerous times before.

He’d tried suffocation, drowning, pills, leaning off the edge of a bridge and peering down at the drop that was sure to end him the moment his body hit the concrete.

He’d tried— and succeeded— at taking his own life numerous times before in the safety of his own mind. Took comfort in imagining his lifeless body lying still, undisturbed on a sidewalk somewhere or, better yet, in the comfort and familiarity of his own home.

And, a few times, he’d tied a plastic bag tight around his head and breathed until all the air was sucked out only to then panic and then tear it open, taking in big gulps of air and coughing out his impulsive stupidity.

He’d gotten into an overflowing bathtub completely clothed and submerged himself beneath the surface, tried to hold himself at the bottom until his body began to convulse and his chest tightened in pain, only to then break through the surface and yield the same result as when he’d failed previously.

But tonight, Tomura had found a fool proof plan.

There was always traffic downtown, especially on the weekend when the bars and clubs and general nightlife scene was at its most concentrated.

So as he walked along the sidewalk in his beat up old red converse, one of the laces untied and threatening to trip him with every step, he tried to imagine which one would take his life.

Would it be a standard yellow taxi cab? A family SUV?

Or maybe it would be a nice, expensive, spotless sports car.

Maybe it would be red or black or— better yet— white. That way his blood would show up bright against the hood.

Yeah, a white ferrari might be nice, Tomura thought with morbid glee.

But as he stood at the crosswalk, the glowing street sign above his head blinking with the WALK symbol of the little minimalistic figure taking a step forward, he found the one that he really wanted.

It wasn’t a ferrari, but it was white. A Mercedes-Maybach S Class with silver detailing.

And it was going fast.

Even after the light turned to yellow, the speeding car showed no signs of slowing.

Perfect, Tomura thought, bracing himself to step out in front of it at just the right moment.

The street was empty, aside from him and the car, the late hours of the night proving to be a little less optimal for his death than he would’ve originally liked, but if this was it then so be it. Tomura was ready to die. 

He was ready to not have anything around to stop him this time.

So he did it.

He jumped in front of the speeding car, his body slamming into the hood just as Dabi slammed on the brakes and skid to a halt for the second time that night— the second time that hour— nearly killing another complete stranger.

Tomura’s body flung back and rolled out into the middle of the street, laying motionless under the glow of the red light.

“What the fuck?!” Dabi shouted as he stepped out of the car, trying to assess the damage but not stray too far as he was still seriously considering just driving off. But he’d already stolen a car. He didn’t exactly want to add hit and run to his list of crimes for the night, though it’s not like it would’ve been the first time. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Should we help him?!” You were getting out of the car now, unsure of whether you should approach, seeming to be pulled towards the body and the car back and forth by an invisible line as you nervously shuffled on your feet. “God, what do we do?!”

“He threw himself in front of me!” Dabi snapped defensively, as if you hadn’t been sitting right next to him and seen the whole thing. “Fucking idiot! God…”

“Well, is he dead or…?” You now started towards the body as Dabi scanned the area, pulling on his hair with stress and frustration. No one was around but that didn’t mean the accident hadn’t been seen.

The scrawny stranger who lay in a heap of black clothing and shaggy, silvery hair wasn’t moving, but still, you couldn’t help but hold out hope.

“H-hello?” you asked once you were close enough that, if he was alive, he might be able to hear you. You knelt down to his level, leaning over him now, trembling hands hovering above his body like you were afraid even the gentlest of touches would shatter him, cause him to disintegrate to dust.

But then the young man groaned and flopped over onto his back, blinking bleary, scarlet eyes up at you. He had tired eyes, dark circles etched in deep, and a scar that ran over one side of his chapped lips.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed as the silver-haired stranger mumbled quiet, incoherent things under his breath. “Hey! Hey, he’s alive!” you called back towards the tattooed man who’d nearly killed you not long ago. “He’s alive!”

Dabi remained by the car, his body leaning against the inside of the open driver’s door with one foot perched on the floor mat, halfway to just abandoning the both of you here and saving his own ass. “Are you fucking kidding me…?” he asked again, though this time mainly to himself.

“Hey, can you hear me?” you asked the person laying on the road in front of you. “Are you ok?”

As Tomura’s vision began to refocus, his voice began to return to him too. As far as he could tell, he was mostly uninjured. His entire body felt like it was just run over by a truck— or, well, actually, it was a Mercedes-Mayback S Class— but other than the constant aching soreness that made it hard for him to move, he was otherwise alive.

Unless…

“Are you…” Tomura began. You leaned in closer to hear him better, his voice a raspy ghost of a whisper. “Are you an angel?”

When you smiled at him then, just a tiny, slightly amused yet relieved grin, Tomura’s eyes rolled back into his head and he let out an exhausted sigh. Or, well, perhaps he too should be holding out hope. Because if you really were an angel that meant that he’d finally succeeded in killing himself.

“Can you stand?” you asked him next. In response, Tomura tried to roll back over onto his side and push himself off the ground. Your hands tried to guide him, to steady his body until he was on his own two feet and had an arm slung over your shoulders while you helped him limp towards the car.

“Hey!” Dabi shouted angrily as the two of you approached. “No! Leave him on the fucking curb! I ain’t chauffeuring another person around!”

“He’s hurt!” you called back in protest, staring up at Dabi with a plea for mercy. “We can’t just leave him!”

“Listen. I said I’d drop you off,” Dabi sneered, glancing at the staggering stranger with revulsion. “Not you and some random guy who was dumb enough to step out into oncoming traffic!”

“Hey, where do you live?” you asked Tomura, who still seemed to be caught in a daze, his weight becoming a little heavier on you as his body began to slump. When he didn’t respond, you just looked back to Dabi and said, “Just drop him off with me. I’ll figure the rest out.”

Dabi stared at you both then, battling with himself on whether you were worth the trouble or not— as if you’d ever been worth the trouble— then gave a begrudging sigh, telling you to hurry up and get back in the car.

You opened the door to the backseat and helped Tomura slide in before running around and reclaiming your seat on the passenger’s side, Dabi taking off before you’d even finished closing your door and speeding recklessly down the darkened night streets once again, clearly not having learned his lesson the first time— or the second, for that matter.

You kept watch on the man in the backseat from the rearview mirror, who just had his head lazily rested against the seat, slouching down and not bothering to put a seatbelt on as he stared out the window with utter defeat. If it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, there were a few times you would’ve thought him to be dead with how still he was sitting.

“Hey…” you addressed him. He just shifted his crimson gaze to meet yours in the mirror. “What’s your name?”

He averted his eyes again, staring back out the window at the ghost town rushing by outside. “It’s Tomura…” he finally answered after a long, labored breath.

You introduced yourself in return, only getting a simple, barely detectable nod in response.

“And what about you?” you then asked the driver whose jaw was still clenched, back teeth grinding in agitation from the recent events.

“Who gives a shit…” he answered rudely, narrowing his gaze at the road before him, running another red light.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. You didn’t particularly care either, you supposed.

“Ah, shit…” Dabi then said as he noticed the gas meter running empty. You were about to ask him what was wrong, but then he continued with, “Who the fuck goes out with their tank this low?” 

While he was throwing a fit over the dwindling fuel, you were starting to recognize the area, only a few more blocks till your apartment complex, but you didn’t say anything as you could feel the driver’s stress filling the atmosphere of the car. And, with this guy, you felt like a simple statement of “hey, my turn is coming up” would be more than enough to set him off right now.

Dabi cut down another side street where he knew a gas station wasn’t far. It was just outside the city, which you’d already been on the outskirts of, but Dabi wouldn’t be able to pawn the thing off if it stopped rolling the moment he parked it in the shady, underground garage of the illegal stolen car salesman he knew, so he had no choice.

And god he needed his pills.

He needed the cash first though, and to get the cash he needed the car.

Fucking million step process just to get some fucking painkillers, he thought bitterly.

But he could complain and grumble all he wanted.

In the end, he’d do whatever it took, just like always.

“Stay in the car,” he’d said in a way that sounded nonchalant, but you knew was an order, slamming the door shut before you could answer and going over to fill the tank.

You looked back at Tomura, who was still gazing out the window in a daze. You couldn’t help but stare at him, tracing the lines of his scars with your eyes, following the way his wavy hair framed his face and the cool light of the street lamps illuminated his pale skin, making his scarlette eyes glow even brighter. A vibrant contrast against all the monochromatic shades that otherwise painted his person.

“Hey…” you began, speaking softer that time, as if trying to soothe him. “Why did you do that?”

He didn’t respond at first, the only indication that he’d heard you being the slight widening of his eyes, the expression reading as if something dire had just occurred to him before dissipating back to exhaustion. 

“Do what?” he asked with a bored, tired drone.

“Try to kill yourself?”

Tomura looked at you now, only his eyes moving as if the rest of his body couldn’t be bothered. But he couldn’t hold your gaze for very long, the intensity of your sincerity killing him in a way he’d never considered.

“Dunno…” he lied, giving an awkward half shrug, wincing in pain halfway through and gripping his shoulder with one hand.

“Well it was a stupid thing to do,” you scolded him lightly, causing him to shoot you another one of those feral, wide-eyed glares, head turning a little more this time.

“Yeah, and what would you know about it?” he challenged with a scowl, raspy voice a little more sharp now. A little more dangerous.

“I know that if it were me, I wouldn’t try to drag someone else into it. Especially not complete strangers,” you answered, now wearing a scowl of your own.

But you weren’t actually mad at him, per se.

The way you saw it, even though you hadn’t been the one driving, you still would’ve felt responsible if you’d just left him there alone in the street. 

Besides, you’d already taken a life that night and one was more than enough for you.

So you weren’t mad at him. Just concerned.

Because, maybe, at one point or another you’d been just like Tomura. And, possibly sometime in the very near future, you’d be more than willing to throw yourself into oncoming traffic or off a building or bridge or, in the very least, swallow a bunch of pills just to make it all stop.

Because the sight of all that blood— the smell of it, acidic copper mixed with the chemical burning of the bleach stinging your nose— and the sheer fact that, despite the circumstances, you were indeed a murderer as of a few hours ago, well…

The full weight of that was sure to settle over you eventually and, when it did, it just might be too much to bear.

“Whatever…” Tomura puffed out through an exhale of annoyance, looking away from you and back out the window.

Only, Tomura actually did want to answer you. He just didn’t have the right words at the moment to explain it all— that sinking, empty emotion that comes with feeling like you’re completely alone in the world, of having nothing and no one. 

Though, a few seconds later, he perked up in the backseat, noticing something amiss as his skittish crimson gaze scanned the scene outside the window.

“Hey…” he said, causing you to glance over your shoulder. “Where’d that guy go?”

***

Dabi walked into the gas station’s convenience store with his hood up, his head down, and his hands shoved into his pockets.

First, he pretended to browse the chip aisle, strolling slowly as he read over all the brand names. Out of the corner of his gaze, he noticed a security camera. He wondered if it was actually on.

The cashier leaned over the counter and scrolled mindlessly on his phone, used to only a few sporadic customers coming in during the graveyard shift. He hadn’t even glanced towards Dabi when he’d entered, probably wouldn’t have cared even if he’d seen all the tattoos that covered his pale skin, that ran down his arms and up his chest and neck and face.

Maybe he wouldn’t care if Dabi tried to rob the place, if he took all the cash in the register and ran off either.

Because Dabi was even more shit out of luck than he had been at the start of the night.

He’d lost that bundle of cash he’d stolen when those guys had caught and beaten him in the alley and the gas station console wouldn’t let him fill his car until he had proof of payment first.

Well, here goes nothing, Dabi thought as he sighed and marched up to the register.

The kid was still scrolling through his phone and it was only when Dabi aggressively cleared his throat did he glance up, face going white when he registered the man standing before him.

“Uh… Can I—” the kid began, but was cut off as Dabi began one of his most ambitious bluffs in a long time.

“Open the register,” he ordered with a growl, voice quiet but stern, pushing one of the fists that were shoved in his pocket closer to the kid, pretending to conceal a gun. “And hurry it up.”

The cashier didn’t hesitate. He fumbled with the drawer and laid its entire contents out on the counter for Dabi to take, backing up and knocking down some of the cigarettes from where they were placed behind the counter while the tattooed thief stuffed the cash into his pockets.

When Dabi was done, he just nodded at the kid and said, “Oh, and gimme one a those,” eying one of the packs of marlboros that now lay scattered behind the counter. The cashier tossed him a pack with a shaky hand and then Dabi left, rushing towards the gas console, feeding in the bills, filling the tank, and then yanking the pump out the moment he heard it click, not bothering to place it back in its holder before jumping in the car and speeding away with a screech, both you and Tomura staring at him with wide-eyes, hands gripping the safety bars above the window as your bodies were jostled around with every veering turn.

“Uh… What ha—” you tried to ask.

“Don’t…” Dabi snapped, making both you and Tomura flinch. “Ask.”

So you didn’t. You remained silent for the rest of the drive aside from directing Dabi where to turn once you reentered the part of town you recognized. When you told him here was fine, he pulled over to the curb. “Um… Thank y—”

“Get out.” Dabi cut you off. He wouldn’t even look at you. You hesitated for a moment, once again wishing that you at least knew this mysterious man’s name despite how he’d treated you, then opened the door to exit. “And you,” Dabi glared at Tomura from the backseat, the silver-haired suicidal a little more alert now. “I ain’t drivin’ you around anymore either. Get out.”

Once Tomura was standing beside you on the sidewalk, Dabi just turned the music back up until it was so loud you could hear “Johnny Wants To Fight” by Badflower in a muffled blast from inside of the car and sped off again, feeling more on edge by the minute and needing to get the stolen car to his contact before the police had a chance to find him first.

And then it was just you and Tomura left in a perplexed daze in the middle of the night a few blocks from your apartment, everything that had happened up until this point feeling like some strange fever dream that you still hadn’t fully woken up from.

“So… uh…” you began, awkwardly eyeing Tomura who was staring at you like an inquisitive animal. “Do you live around here too or…?”

“I don’t live anywhere,” Tomura replied. “Not anymore, at least.”

It had to be three, maybe even close to four AM by now. Tomura looked tired. You were exhausted. You’d both had the same strange experience and just letting him walk away felt wrong, like you really would wake up tomorrow and forget everything, all the blood and black ink and silver-hair mixing together before fading away entirely.

“Do you… want to come in?” you hesitantly invited.

Tomura then seemed to snap out of his dead stare, blinking a few times before answering, “Sure.”

***

“This is it…” you said as you flipped up the switch by the door, the lights flickering a few times before illuminating the cramped studio. Tomura just stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes scanning what little there was to look at before stepping inside. Neither of you really knew what to say now. What to do. When an awkward silence began to fill the space, you asked, “So, um… Can I get you a glass of water or…?”

Tomura then seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was currently in, flinching as he registered that someone was speaking to him and responding with, “Oh, yeah, sure.”

As you took a hastily washed glass out of the sink where you’d left it this morning and filled it from the lukewarm tap, you kept an eye on your guest out of the corner of your vision and rinsed the dried blood from your hands.

He was standing in the middle of the room, honing in on specific details like what books you had scattered across the tiny, uneven coffee table you’d picked up for free from the curbside when you’d first moved here. He studied the dying houseplants that drooped by the fingerprint smudged windows, their leaves and vines having given up on reaching towards the sun long ago. But, one thing he noticed above all else was the single photo you kept on your scuffed up bedside table.

“Who are they?” he asked when you came over to hand him his drink. He took the glass carefully in his hands, as if he feared he might break it.

You took a seat on the end of your bed with your own glass of water, sipping at it as you glanced at the photo. “My family,” you admitted, though wore a sad expression where he would’ve expected one that was a little more, well…

Actually, he didn’t exactly have the fondest memories of his family either.

You thought he might ask you what happened to them, if they lived nearby or if you guys were close, but he didn’t. Instead, he just nodded like he understood and then sipped at his drink while standing a few feet across from you, both of you looking at each other and waiting for the other person to say something else.

You wondered just how long he’d been alone. How long he’d had to endure silence before almost getting killed— then saved, if you could call it that— by you and that tattooed guy in the middle of the street tonight. You almost asked. Would’ve, if not for him speaking first.

“Why did you let me in?” he asked, intentions unreadable in both his face and tone.

“Should I not have?” you inquired. Instinctively you reminded yourself where you’d hidden weapons throughout your apartment— a letter opener in the nightstand drawer, pocket knife underneath one of the couch cushions, multi-tool behind the vase near the front door— just in case things took a turn. Tomura just continued to stare at you, his gaze curious, as if he found you just as odd yet enticing as you found him. “I mean…” you then recovered, “You said you had nowhere to go, right?”

He nodded, bringing the glass to his lips but pausing before taking the next sip, saying, “Did you know the guy in the car?”

“Not until just before we ran into you,” you admitted.

Then Tomura asked “Did he do that to you?” nodding at all the blood on your clothes. You realized that maybe it wasn’t necessarily you he kept staring at with wild eyes, but all the evidence instead.

You’d already nearly forgotten about it.

“Oh…” you exhaled, plucking at your button up shirt and noticing that the bright red had gone rusty now. There was no way those stains were coming out. You’d have to throw your clothes away or, probably a better idea, burn them. “No, he didn’t. That was…”

But you couldn’t finish the sentence. Not even with an insult at your former boss. You just wanted to forget any of it had ever happened.

Tomura then sat on the end of your bed next to you, staring at where the beat up old sofa was pushed up against the wall and gulping down the rest of his water. It was then your turn to study him, decode his appearance as if that would answer all your unasked questions. But, unlike you, his situation was a lot harder to read. He kept it carefully concealed under long black sleeves and faded black jeans, shaggy tufts of hair falling in front of his eyes and hiding parts of his face from you.

Though, there was one thing you hadn’t noticed before, when the only light you’d had to view him by was the dim glow of passing streetlamps or traffic lights. His skin wasn’t just scarred, it was scratched, dry and patchy around his eyes and forehead, eyebrows sparse and chunks of his eyelashes missing as if he’d rubbed them off.

Instinctively, you raised a hand to touch him, wanting to care for whatever condition he had— wanting to understand it better so you could help— but when he saw it coming towards him in his peripheral vision he flinched back, grabbing your wrist to stop you.

You both stared at each other with gaping expressions, scared for different reasons.

“I’m sorry—” you went to say, the words caught in a gasp. But Tomura didn’t look angry. He didn’t look like he was going to hurt you. Instead, he looked at you as if he thought he’d just narrowly protected you from something horrible, like touching him was some kind of curse you might catch. “I didn’t mean—”

But then he let you go, giving you back your wrist, which you cradled in your other hand, and looked away from you. “Sorry…” he mumbled, vermillion stare stuck to the multicolored shag rug hiding the partially rotting hardwood floors. “It’s just… I’m not used to being touched and I…”

Similar to you, Tomura also had a hard time speaking the things he’d much rather forget.

Then, without thinking you blurted out, as if you had just suddenly decided it needed to be freed from the cage of your body, “I killed someone tonight.” Tomura didn’t flinch at that. Just looked back at you with a gaze that either said, “I’m sorry” or “I understand”. Maybe both.

And suddenly you had this fear of rejection, like you expected him to lash out and call you crazy, deride you for committing such a heinous act. But instead he just asked you, “Did they deserve it?”

You cracked a nervous smirk, the fever dream you felt like you were floating in becoming all that more unbelievable. “Yeah…” you said, a stifled, choking sound that was perhaps the dying embers of a sob catching in your throat. “Yeah, he did.”

“What are you gonna do?” he asked next. You felt like the scenery around you was beginning to blur, the walls closing in tighter and tighter until they’d press flat against you and trap you in a cube of claustrophobia. 

Your eyes began to tear up. “I don’t know…” The heat that was building in the room was beginning to feel suffocating. You buried your face in one of your hands, the other one holding the half empty glass of water starting to tremble. “I don’t know…” The air conditioner had never worked and even your cheap convenience store fan had broken recently. “I really don’t know…”

Tomura was unsure what to say to you, but he was trying to find the words. Any words. Any words at all to convey to you that you’d figure it out. That you’d be alright but—

But why did he care?

Why did Tomura— someone who’d tried time and time again to end his own life because he was so convinced that nothing was ever going to be alright for him ever again— care whether you sorted out your problems or dug your own grave?

Because she doesn’t deserve that, he figured. She has far more to live for than someone like me.

You were just crying now, your glass of water sitting abandoned on the floor by your feet as you hid your sorrows in both of your palms, body shaking even more as another wave of tremors wracked through your bones, sharp inhales peppered throughout your otherwise silent sadness.

Tomura wished he hadn’t stopped you from touching him earlier. He wished he’d allowed you to reach over and run your careful fingertips over his skin, the scars and the dry patches that cracked and split in thin slashes across his face.

Though, maybe, perhaps, if he could reach out and touch you, you’d allow him to try and care for you the way you’d wanted to care for him. As much as one hollow stranger could care for another, that is.

“They’re gonna find me,” you muttered, words garbled by the thick coating of saliva clogging the back of your throat. “They’re gonna find me and then they’re gonna—”

You froze when you felt a hand— Tomura’s hand— resting on the small of your back, peeking out from your palms as if to confirm that it was actually him that was touching you and you weren’t just imagining it. And he was tense at first. Not gentle and comforting like he had a feeling you could be.

But he was trying.

You were making him want to try.

“What…?” you eventually asked, Tomura’s startled stare becoming too intense for you to hold.

He then mumbled something, his voice so quiet you didn’t catch it at first. So again, you asked him, “What?” and when he repeated himself you realized he’d said, “I want to kiss you.”

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the thin film of tears that still glossed over your eyes, lashes spiked and cheeks streaked with drying salt. Your ears were ringing, and suddenly all you could hear was the buzzing in your head. But you felt your mouth moving, felt the gentle vibration of your vocal chords when you said, “So kiss me then.”

Tomura leaned in halfway, the hand on your back clutching your shirt in his fist, trying to conceal just how terrified he was of his own desire— for you and this newfound realization that maybe he did actually want to live, even if only just a little bit. It was overwhelming.

And it was kind of nice, the fact that he wasn’t trying to feel you up right from the get go and pin you underneath him like most of your previous one night stands tended to do. So you kissed him, and he kissed you back, but it wasn’t romantic or sweet. It was rough and desperate, both of you trying to leave proof on each other that the other person existed, that you’d met, that you’d both almost died that night yet had somehow ended up alive at the end of it all, even if one of you hadn’t wanted to.

Tomura had shaky hands. And they were cold, like they had no blood in them, like he really had died back there on the street and was just a walking corpse. They sent a shiver through your body as his fingers brushed against your ribs under your shirt, pushing up until they found the clasp of your bra, fumbling with it absentmindedly as if he wasn’t aware of what his fingers were tangled up in.

You reached behind you and undid it for him, both of you breaking the kiss and pausing for a moment, lips still almost touching as you panted into each other’s mouths and wondered if this was really happening. If you wanted it to happen.

I killed someone, you remembered again. And then I almost watched him get killed.

It was fucked up.

All of it.

Your life.

His.

And definitely the guy who’d driven you two and then sped off without a word.

All of it was just so fucked up.

Has been for a long time, you thought, going back to kiss Tomura again, this time trying to be a little softer, letting him know that you needed things to slow down a bit. But when your tongues met this time, you realized something odd.

Tomura tasted like nothing.

Now that you thought about it, he didn’t smell like anything either.

Maybe he really is a ghost, you thought to yourself with much less concern than you probably should’ve. Either way, you wanted to feel his lips on yours again, kissing him over and over until you felt like some of his rigidness had melted away.

“Wait… Do you really wanna do this?” Tomura asked then, seeming to be second guessing himself now that his thoughts had actually caught up to his actions.

“Do you?” was all you answered in return. You think you wanted to, though, you weren’t exactly sure why.

Does there need to be a reason, you asked yourself. Does there need to be a reason when nothing makes any fucking sense anyway?

When Tomura’s hands started trailing up your body again, you took that as a maybe. When he kissed you again, also being a little softer this time, you took that as a yes.

So you let him have you, taking no issue when he squeezed at your ass or pulled your panties down. Because you could see it in his eyes— this void, empty space where maybe, at one point, his true self had been.

You had also lost your true self.

You couldn’t remember exactly when or how, but you often felt like you were nothing more than an empty vessel, just a body wandering aimlessly without a soul to occupy it.

And at one point, you too had wished for it all to end, having run out of options for escape, tired of scraping at the bottom of the barrel just to earn another day in the pathetic game of survival you supposed you called your life.

But here, now, with this silver-haired stranger who’s name you’d barely learned, you felt like the embers of your dwindling soul were being reignited in its hearth, the flames that maybe would grow into a steady fire coursing warm through your blood.

Tomura didn’t bother with much foreplay. Didn’t need to. You were wet enough already just from some simple touching and kissing. Maybe it was because you hadn’t been like this in a long time— lying underneath someone who you actually wanted to give yourself to, not just shutting out the sensations as you went through the motions when you were late on paying your rent. But Tomura still prepped you the best he could, slipping two of his slender fingers into your fluttering hole and pumping them in and out a few times, scissoring them inside to stretch you.

When you told him you were ready— that you wanted him now— Tomura sunk into you slowly, feeling you clench around him right away and letting out a groan as his crimson eyes rolled back in his head. As he rocked his hips rhythmically, your neck craned and your back arched, breathy little moans escaping your lips.

“Tomura…” you whined as he brought his chapped lips down to suck at your neck, leaving behind his own personal constellation of bruises, biting in sometimes and pulling a gasp or another moan from you.

His hips picked up the pace soon, thrusting into you and making your whimpers come out louder, sounds of pain and pleasure filling the formerly silent, small space of the apartment. You didn’t care if your neighbours heard you. It’s not like you knew your neighbours anyway. Besides, you were still planning on skipping town soon anyway.

“T-Tomura!” you were begging, but for what?

For more?

For him to slow down? To speed up?

Even you weren’t sure anymore.

You just let yourself get lost in the touch of the man you’d only known for a couple of hours yet felt you understood better than some people you’d known your entire life.

It was almost like you needed to prove to yourself that this was still ok after what had happened with your boss. You needed to know that you weren’t broken, that any scars you’d gained from that incident would heal and fade away. Maybe he could be the bandaid on the bullet hole that was the amalgamation of every horrible thing that had ever happened to you. With how good he felt inside you, it sure seemed that way.

And Tomura, well, he’d almost forgotten the last time he’d felt anything, let alone this much of a will to live.

Because every time his hips snapped against the inside of your thighs and your silky, pulsing walls clenched around his cock, or he pulled another one of those sweet little sounds from you, whenever your lips met his or his lips nipped at your neck, the strangest thought occurred to him.

Maybe I don’t want to die.

He wouldn’t trust that statement in the long run but for now, even if just one very strange, very ominous night, he’d allow himself to believe it.

And as the two of you curled up under the covers, soaking in each other’s body heat, Tomura’s long, thin arms wrapped around you like you were the only thing he’d ever had worth holding onto, he thought to himself…

Maybe with someone like her, life is worth living.

***

“Why do you want to die so bad?” you’d asked Tomura after you’d both woken up that morning, both your hair tousled with sex and sleep.

The two of you stayed in bed until nearly noon, the summer sunlight that poured in through the spotted windows giving you both a warm glow, sun dust visibly floating through the beams.

“I don’t know,” Tomura had answered, though that time he hadn’t just used the excuse as a filler for a question he didn’t feel like explaining. “I just… It’s been like that for a long time.”

You’d kissed him— a tender, soft kiss that made Tomura feel loved for the first time in, well, in forever— and he’d tried to kiss you back in the same way, hoping that you could understand through the gesture that you’d saved him— were still saving him— from the black abyss of his death wish one touch at a time.

“I was like you once,” you admitted then, wearing a sadness that Tomura was used to seeing in his own reflection, one that lived deep in someone’s eyes. And then it was his turn to ask you why. “Because,” you gave a short shrug. “I’m never getting out of here— out of this…” You then looked around your apartment as if that summed up the entire history of your life’s problems. You didn’t necessarily believe in heaven, though, if there really was an afterlife of some sort, you just hoped it really was a better place like people always said. Even if it were merely a plane of existence where you wouldn’t have to feel any more pain.

Tomura wanted to tell you that you were wrong, that someone as beautiful and kind and caring as you deserved so much more than this, deserved to live more than most people. Definitely more than someone like him and definitely more than someone like that guy who’d driven you both around so recklessly last night.

“I’m sorry,” was all Tomura could think to say as he held you closer to him, afraid to let you go, like if he did you’d turn to sun dust and disappear on the breeze that was seeping through the cracked window overhead.

“Don’t be,” you replied evenly, sounding tired. “Besides, I’m still alive.” You looked up at him, admiring the way the light hit his scarlet gaze. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Before either of you could say anything else, your phone began to buzz from the nightstand. You wriggled from Tomura’s grasp to see who it was, your blood freezing in your veins when you read one of your co-workers name’s pop up on the caller ID.

“What is it?” Tomura asked when he felt you tense.

A million different possibilities rushed through your brain at once.

Did they find the body?

Of course they did.

Do they know I did it?

Are the police already on their way?

No, they would’ve already gotten here.

Shit, where did I leave my shirt? It’s still got blood on it.

“Uh…” Your voice shook and you cleared your throat. “One second.”

You threw your legs over the side of the bed, reached down to pick up the nearest article of clothing, which just so happened to be Tomura’s black crewneck, and slipped it over your head, the oversized garment covering enough of you to feel decent as you picked up the phone and retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind you, as if the walls were thick enough to keep even your low muttering from being overheard.

Just play dumb, you reminded yourself before accepting the call. You went home last, but not too late. Only a little bit after the hairdresser who finished up before you. You didn’t see your boss. Just went home.

“H-hello—?”

“Oh my god!” your co-worker boomed from the other side of the call, making you wince and pull the phone back from your ear for a moment. “Are you ok?! Did you hear?! I can’t believe this—!”

Yep. They’d definitely found the body. But, luckily for you, it didn’t sound like you were a suspect yet.

You tried to swallow down any evidence of your so-called “crime”, attempting to sound surprised and confused, but not so much so as to expose that it was all an act.

“Someone stabbed him and left him in the alley behind the shop!” your co-worked continued in disbelief after you asked what happened. “Thank god you got home before running into whoever it was. I can’t imagine!”

There would be a more thorough investigation soon enough, you knew. The police would search the shop and find traces of his blood and probably the straight razor with your fingerprints on it. You could just argue that you’d had a customer earlier that day who’d booked a shave, or better yet, someone else at the salon would use it and mark it with their touch too.

But you would become a suspect. It wasn’t a matter of if, only of when.

“Are you on the schedule for today?” she then asked, and you could hear the flipping of pages in the background, your co-worker already working on answering her own question.

You knew you were, but there was no way in hell you were planning on going in. Cops were probably crawling all over the alley. If they stopped you for questioning, you weren’t sure how well you could hide the dread that was sure to show on your face and shake in your voice.

“I’m not feeling well today,” you lied. “Can you do me a huge favor? Take me off the schedule, cancel my appointments. I didn’t have many…”

Your co-worker said she would. She was a good friend, if you’d considered her as such before. She was always willing to check in on you, help you out when you needed it, but you knew she definitely wouldn’t be willing to sink with you on the whole killing your horrible, misogynistic, rapist of a boss situation, even if she hated him too.

“I wonder if this means our next paychecks will be late…” she sighed after agreeing to help you, wishing for you to feel better.

You both told each other to stay safe, keep in touch, and as soon as you hung up you let out a quivering exhale, a weight of getting through that conversation free of suspicion lifting from your shoulders momentarily.

You’d almost forgotten about Tomura until you exited the bathroom and saw him sitting on the edge of your bed, half dressed— aside from his shirt that you were wearing, of course— and beginning to lace up one of his beat up red converse.

“Hey…” You blinked at him as you stopped in the doorway of the tiny bathroom. “Feel like breakfast?”

***

“That’s why I was covered in blood last night…” You recounted drearily as you picked at a stack of pancakes, twirling your fork and watching the spongy food tear apart easily. Then one of your thoughts from the previous night returned to you.

Like a hot knife through butter.

You were losing your appetite.

“Well, sounds like the fucker deserved it,” Tomura commented with a lazy shrug, taking a bite of his own stack of pancakes, his loaded with blueberries and chocolate chips. For a guy who’d tried to kill himself so often, he sure seemed to enjoy the simple things in life.

You glared down at your plate, silverware clenched in your fists. “Yeah, well, it won’t matter what he deserved once the cops find out…”

“Hey…” Tomura’s hand cautiously found yours, fingertips barely brushing against you and causing your gaze to snap back to him. “They won’t find out.” But you assured him that they would, sooner or later, if you stayed here. “Then let’s leave. Run away from here.”

Let’s leave?

Run away?

As in together?

You didn’t think strangers who were this easily willing to skip town with someone they’d just met existed outside of fables and fairy tales. And you were still working on figuring out if last night was fact or fiction.

“I don’t know…” You sighed. “I just—” But as you looked back to the front windows of the diner, you caught a face you recognized slinking by, the tall, lanky, tattooed figure pulling the door open and entering the establishment.

Dabi stopped as he looked up and saw you and Tomura sitting in the furthest corner, huddled close together in the otherwise empty restaurant.

He pulled the hood of the sweatshirt he wore under his black denim jacket down to expose his spiky black hair. “No shit,” he scoffed, heading straight towards you then, sitting in one of the empty chairs and laying both elbows on the table comfortably like he’d been invited and was simply running late.

“What are you two doing here?” he questioned in a bored drone, then glanced at your torn up, soggy pancakes with that cerulean half-lidded stare and asked, “You gonna eat that?” You slid your plate towards him without a word and he began to dig in, ravenous, silverware trembling slightly in his hands.

Neither you nor Tomura really knew what to say. After everything that had happened last night between the three of you, what more was there to say?

“Why the fuck did you put so much syrup on this?” Dabi complained through his next bite, though he didn’t seem to mind too much with the rate he was shoveling the food into his mouth. His bright, azure gaze hopped back and forth between you and Tomura, waiting for one of you to answer his first question.

“What?” Dabi then snapped, a scowl forming on his brow.

“Nothing,” Tomura answered then, trying to act natural as he took another bite of his own breakfast.

“What are you doing here?” you inquired next, a bad mood beginning to creep over you.

“Uh-uh,” Dabi shook his head as he pointed his fork— your fork— towards you accusingly. “I asked you first. And what are you still doing with him?” He shot a quick glare at Tomura, seeming to harbor some ill will towards the man who’d thrown himself in front of a speeding car.

Or perhaps it was more the jealousy that the scrawny, silver-haired, scarlet-eyed stranger had gotten to go home with you and, even more, that he’d made a good enough impression to be invited out for breakfast the next morning.

“Well we were having breakfast before you showed up,” you replied with disdain, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Oh, were you now?” Dabi said with another sarcastic chuckle and a roll of his eyes. “Tell me, do you always prefer to dissect your food into a million pieces before you consume it, or is that just for special occasions?”

“What’s your problem, man?” Tomura then jumped in with a sneer, causing both you and Dabi to look at him with varying degrees of surprise. Dabi almost looked intrigued, like there was a challenge he knew he could win somewhere in Tomura’s question. And you, well…

You just weren’t used to people sticking up for you.

“Was I talking to you?” Dabi shot back through a low growl, his hand tightening into a white knuckled fist around the fork to try and hide his growing withdrawal symptoms, feeling his body temperature rise even higher, and not just from rage.

“Stop it!” you scolded, not wanting a scene to unfold. Now it was your turn to be on the receiving end of Dabi’s glare. “Just stop. What do you want anyway? If I’m remembering correctly, you told us to get out and then sped off. If you want money I’m not giving it to you.”

“Cute,” Dabi flashed his teeth at you in a mocking smile, shoving the plate, now nearly devoid of all its previous contents, into the center of the table. “But I don’t want your money.” He pushed his chair back and stood aggressively, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “But it’s your loss,” he baited with calculated indifference. “I was actually about to invite you both to make some with me.”

Dabi began to stalk off then, but just before he could exit the diner, he spotted some faces that he recognized through the building’s front windows.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit…” he swore under his breath, whipping back around and pulling his hood up, returning to his seat at your table hastily, back facing the window. You and Tomura both just continued to watch him with an uncomfortable perplexity. “Tell me when they’re gone,” Dabi ordered in a hushed voice, but neither you nor Tomura knew what he was talking about.

That was, until two cops entered the diner, eyes scanning the empty room, sticking on the trio of you three for a moment and causing a dagger of panic to spike in your chest, before they moved on to take a seat at the main counter, calling to the waitress who was just coming out from the back and ordering two coffees.

“Of fucking course…” Dabi sighed, raising his eyebrows in lazy defeat as if to say, “this might as well happen to me today.”

“What did you do now?” you accused with a scowl, eyes darting from the cops back to the tattooed stranger. Though, again, after last night, it was sort of odd to think of him in those terms.

“Shut up!” Dabi ordered with a hiss, lowering his head a little more and trying to angle his face away from the cops. “Just shut up.”

“Whatever,” you murmured with irritation, now taking your fork back up and going to pick at what little remained of Tomura’s pancakes, your annoyance making some of your appetite return to you.

But the cops didn’t stay long. Just ordered their coffees, drank them while talking about bullshit, paid, and left. You and Dabi both let out a breath of relief once you found yourself alone in the diner again. Tomura had just watched the whole thing unfold with wide eyes and wavering interest.

“What did you do?” you pressed harder once it was just the three of again.

“Look, I’m in some trouble with the cops and some of the local gangs, alright!” Dabi shot back with simmering fury, though still kept his voice hushed to a hissed whisper. “And I need money fast or else, the next time they see me, I’m dead!”

“The next time who sees you?” Tomura asked, not sounding the least bit worried as he sipped at the orange juice you’d ordered and barely touched.

“Either of ‘em, dumbass,” Dabi retorted with a roll of his eyes, causing you to kick him in the shin from under the table which earned you the most feral look he’d flashed either of you yet. His hand was curling into a fist again and, for a moment, you really thought he was going to swing at you, but he just heaved out another exasperated sigh and said, “Y’know what, forget it,” before standing from the table, the metal legs of the chair scraping harshly against the splotchy floors. He grumbled to himself as he shoved his hands back in his pockets and prepared to turn and leave, “Should’a never stopped for you anyway…”

“Why don’t you just sell that stupid car?” you called to him when he was halfway to the door. He stopped and glanced at you over his shoulder, staring at you as if he was giving you a chance to continue. “If you need money that bad,” you clarified, nervously taking Tomura’s hand under the table. “Just sell your car.”

Dabi marched right back up to you, perching himself to lean forward with both hands lying flat on the tabletop. “You think I haven’t thought of that already?”

“Well?” you raised, squeezing Tomura’s hand a little harder and making him give you a slightly anxious side glance. “Why don’t you then?”

You and Dabi just stared at each other, searching each other’s eyes with matching scowls as if hoping to fish out some kind of weakness, see who would break first.

Finally, Dabi slumped back down in his seat again and sighed, tapping his foot relentlessly on the floor. “Because…” he admitted, partially with defeat. “I stole it. And my normal guy skipped town so now I’m shit outta luck with finding someone I can sell it to without alerting the cops.”

You were just about to say something like, “Well that sounds like a you problem then,” when all of a sudden Tomura cut in with, “I know someone who will buy it.”

Both you and Dabi gave him incredulous looks.

“It’s kinda far away…” he elaborated, leaning in a little closer to the huddle, “But I’ve done deals with the guy before and…” his words drifted off as if he was forgetting his sentence at the same time he was speaking it.

“And?” Dabi snapped.

“And he’s good with that kind of stuff,” Tomura continued. “Like, buying and selling illegal shit.”

You blinked twice, your hand still clutched in Tomura’s, who was holding onto you now more than you were to him.

Just who was this guy?

“If you’re bullshitting me,” Dabi warned, pointing a long, bony finger at Tomura, who’s crimson gaze widened even more, “then you’re gonna be the one who’s dead at the end of all this? Got it?”

Dabi should’ve known better. Should’ve known that, at least before coming home with you last night, Tomura would’ve wanted nothing more than for the tattooed criminal to follow through with that threat.

But Tomura was telling the truth.

Sure, he’d never bought or sold a stolen car to his contact, but he had obtained all kinds of drugs in the past, experimenting with what would bring him the closest to death without actually killing him before he’d made his mind up about actually wanting to die.

So Dabi agreed, all three of you leaving the diner— without paying, mind you— and piling back into the white and silver Mercedes-Maybach S Class, Dabi speeding outside of town towards the direction Tomura pointed him in, windows rolled down and music blasting all the way on account of him not wanting to have to hear either of you talk.

***

“Over there,” Tomura pointed out once a graffitied billboard of a crying woman warning against the dangers of drug addiction came into view. “Turn left at the next intersection.”

Dabi grumbled something under his breath before veering left and causing both you and Tomura to lean in the same direction with the sudden force. He then drove down a long, abandoned stretch of empty road for what felt like a long time. His agitation was growing, fingers tapping relentlessly on the wheel until finally he demanded, “Where the hell is this place?”

“Right up ahead,” Tomura kept promising. Your hand had inched closer to his in the backseat every time Dabi voiced one of his annoyances, feeling safer than before when you’d been in the passenger seat beside Dabi but still nervous since you were never sure what was gonna set the guy off. Finally, your hand found Tomura’s, his fingers intertwining with yours as he came to seek safety in your touch just the same. You gave his hand a little squeeze, the gesture becoming your unspoken sign for rising anxiety. To try and ease the tension that was building in the car, as he lightly stroked his thumb over the top of your hand, Tomura added, “Next turn that comes up. You can’t miss it.”

The next turn wasn’t for twenty more minutes, so you rested your head against Tomura’s shoulder in the meantime, his rigidness melting away after a little while, even allowing himself to rest his head against yours, his fluffy silvery hair tickling your cheek.

But finally, once the turn came up, you were able to calm down a little bit. Mostly because Dabi started to calm down a little bit. Though, as he pulled up to the place, it looked more like an old gas station than a place where someone would trade a stolen car.

“This really the place?” Dabi asked, glancing at you nuzzling up to Tomura in the backseat with…

What?

Jealousy?

He forced himself to glare back out the windshield as his grip on the wheel tightened.

“Yeah, pull in here. There’s a warehouse in the back,” Tomura instructed, lifting his head from yours and becoming more alert. “I’ll go and see if he’s here.”

“Right��� you’ll see if he’s here…” Dabi rolled his eyes, veering off to the side and putting the car in park. “For how far we just fuckin’ drove, he better be here.”

“I’m coming with you,” you announced as you exited the car after Tomura, not wanting to be left alone with Dabi any longer than you had to. Tomura tried to tell you that it would be better if he went alone, that his contact could be a little skittish when it came to meeting unfamiliar faces, but you promised you’d be good. That you’d stay quiet and close to his side. You took his hand in yours again and then he agreed, informing you that it would be best if you didn’t touch anything, no matter how tempting.

“I mean, what does this guy deal?” you asked with a playful raise of your eyebrows and lilt in your tone. “Like, rare gems or something?”

Tomura hesitated, his eyes widening a fraction as he stared down at you. Then he looked away, giving a lazy half shrug and lightly scratching at his neck as he replied, “Sometimes. Depends…”

Before you could even think of a response, you were being pulled along by Tomura, who stepped up to the entrance of the warehouse and knocked on the metal door. “Hey! It’s me!” he called, waiting a moment before going to knock again, shouting louder that time, “Spinner! It’s Tomura! Got somethin’ for ya! Open up!”

Seconds later, a shady looking man answered the door with a disgruntled, “Jesus, Shigaraki, keep it down! You’ll upset the new arrivals… Already bad enough that all the semi-trucks come down these roads all the time.” The man, who you assumed was Spinner, looked you up and down and then back to Tomura with a slightly skeptical, “Uh… This isn’t what you brought me… is it?”

Tomura pulled you closer to him protectively before replying, “The car,” pointing a thumb behind him at where Dabi still sat behind the wheel.

Spinner glanced at you— well, the two of you, really— a little surprised to see Tomura so protective over anything, let alone a person, and one that he was touching so easily at that. Then he stared out at the Mercedes and nodded once, saying, “Tell ‘im to drive it ‘round back. I’ll open the garage and he can park it there. In the meantime…” He hesitated, then sighed to himself, the faintest smile detectable as he told his old friend, “I guess you guys can come in.”

“Thanks…” Tomura nodded, guiding you further into the warehouse which was…

Well…

The place was like a rat maze, each turn beholding another narrow hallway with an exhibit of luxury furs or designer handbags or power tools, all kinds of multi-colored pills stored in old gumball machines or clear plastic storage containers. There was one wall covered in vintage gameboys, playstations, old arcade units, some electronics that you couldn’t even place. But the part of the warehouse that you found the most strange yet intriguing was the room that Spinner led you to.

It was lit mostly in red on account of the many heat lamps placed in each of the several glass tanks which contained different exotic reptiles— snakes and geckos, poisonous frogs and iguanas. You were even pretty sure one of the animals was a baby crocodile.

“Still selling exotic animals, huh?” Tomura teased with an odd kind of fondness as he scanned the room, noting to himself the newest additions to Spinner’s collection from the last time he’d paid him a visit. “What? Tigers and Lions take up too much space?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Spinner shot back, as if offended. “I wouldn’t trade these no matter what the price. They were all lab animals. Test subjects for this and that. But recently another friend of mine caught wind that they were gonna be confiscated by some kind of animal control, so I took ‘em instead.” Spinner reached in and grabbed up one of the lizards, which rested calmly along his wrist as he gently stroked the top of its head. “Poor little guys have been through a lot…”

“Right, so, the car?” Tomura redirected. “Will you buy it?”

The dealer’s affection for his reptiles faded back into an attitude of business as he placed his hand back into the tank, allowing the lizard to crawl down and scurry back into its little cave as he said, “Gotta check a few things and then I’ll let you know. Your friend should be around back by now. Guess I should go meet ‘im.”

“He’s not my friend,” Tomura finally admitted, pulling you a little closer to his side as you continued to gaze around the reptile room in awe.

“Who is ‘e then? Someone we can trust at least, right?”

Tomura bit his tongue to try and suppress a nervous smirk, one of his hands clenching into a fist as it threatened to dig into his skin as he lied, “Somethin’ like that…”

“It’s complicated,” you chimed in, both Tomura and Spinner’s gazes snapping towards you. Neither of them said anything so you went on a little more nervously with, “W-well… The three of us sort of just… ran into each other the other night and—”

“Ah, c’mon, Shigaraki…” Spinner sighed with irritation. “How many times have I told you to only bring people you know here. Need I remind you what happened that one time with that guy who ended up being an undercover cop?”

“Trust me, this guy’s definitely not a cop,” Tomura assured his friend, removing his touch from you and migrating closer to Spinner, pleading his case. “If anything, he’s a first rate asshole, but other than that…” Tomura shrugged. “Guy has his own reasons for needing the cash.”

“So you’re splitting it?” Spinner asked, seeming to warn Tomura with the raise of his eyebrows that that was a bad idea. Tomura gave a hand gesture that said something along the lines of sort of, not really, who knows and a wincing expression. “Does he know that?”

The two of them began to leave the room, and you were staring at Tomura as if he’d look back and tell you to sit tight until he returned, that everything was ok, but he just kept on walking, chatting away with his friend while you sought refuge on the tiny sofa in the center of the room and basked in the red glow and many slithering silhouettes of the snakes in the tanks.

It felt like a long time until you finally heard footsteps approaching down the way that Tomura and Spinner had gone off in. Though, instead of silvery tufts and crimson eyes rounding the corner, you were met with inky black and smoldering sapphire.

Dabi was smoking a cigarette. Must’ve just lit it with how he was fidgeting with the silver lighter, a soft metallic clang tapping out irregularly. “Well, it’s just one fuckin’ surprise after another in this place, ain’t it?” he remarked with a sarcastic scoff, plopping down on the couch next to you, stretching his arms out over the back and looking around at all the scaled creatures with carefully concealed awe. He blew out a cloud of thick smoke, the smell making your nose wrinkle as you scooted away a few inches. You wanted to tell him he probably shouldn’t smoke in here on account of all the animals but, who were you kidding, it’s not like he would’ve cared.

“Where’s Tomura?” you asked, a slight twinge of worry laced into your voice.

“Your Romeo’s out with that other guy inspecting the car,” he replied dismissively through a yawn. “They better hurry it up. I want my money…”

“I think you mean our money.” You’d meant it to come out sounding much stronger than it really had— more of a declaration than a timid reminder— and your confidence dwindled even more when Dabi shot you a narrowing glare.

“What are you talking about? I’m the one who stole it. Hell, I drove you two around in it all night. You guys owe me.” He scoffed to himself again, wearing a cold smirk and slightly adjusting his position on the couch. Under his breath he muttered, “Our money… Please.”

Perhaps it was the fact that you’d killed someone or just that you were getting really fed up with this guy, but something had suddenly possessed you to argue back, “Yeah, and without Tomura you never would’ve had somewhere to sell the car. Remember that?”

Dabi shifted his position to face you better now, rage lighting up being his eyes while his tone remained low and even, a volcano always on the verge of erupting. “And tell me, how do you come into all this? ‘Cause as far as I’m concerned, you’re just some bitch I found covered in blood wandering the streets in the middle of the night. What’d you do? Slash some guy who got a little too rough with you? Or, wait, maybe your story is that he tried to attack you first and somehow you got the upper hand.”

You felt an unpleasant burning in the back of your nose. The tightening of your throat. Tears prickling at the edges of your vision. But you weren’t about to cry because you were offended. You were about to cry because you were furious.

Because this guy didn’t know a goddamn thing.

And, even if he did— even if you told him the truth— he still wouldn’t care.

As long as he got his drugs at the end of all of this, why should he?

“You don’t know anything,” you growled, rage cutting through your trembling fear that yes, you were a indeed a murderer. And one soon to be at large once the cops did a little more investigating.

Dabi leaned in, pupils mere pinpricks as all that bright cerulean threatened to swallow you whole. “Then just fuckin’ tell me already.”

But you were leaning in too, you now realized, your shared trait of living hard, unfortunate lives pulling you together like two mistreated magnets, however resistant you tried to be.

And as Dabi stared you down that time, you realized that something had changed— or rather, was changing— behind that piercing cobalt stare of his. It made you reconsider that maybe, if you just filled in the gaps, he would understand. He would care.

Or maybe he’d just turn you over to the authorities for ransom and call it a day.

“My boss…” you swallowed, mouth coated in thick, sticky spit. “He tried to— He almost…” You let out a frustrated sigh, a shiver skittering through your bones as you replayed the events of less than twenty-four hours ago in your head. If you focused hard enough, you could still smell that pungent metallic tang of all the blood, feel his thick fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs. “I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t kill him, he would’ve killed me, sooner or later.”

Dabi was slowly nodding his head. And, for a moment, you thought maybe he did understand. But when he opened his mouth and asked, “So, you are a whore or…?” you rolled your eyes and let out a frustrated groan.

“I’m a hairdresser!” You snapped, wiping more tears away as you sniffled, scowl deepening. “Or at least…” your gaze became far off, staring into the tank of a komodo dragon in a daze as you concluded, “I used to be.”

And then Dabi actually laughed.

He was trying to stifle a series of cruel, amused chuckles as you shot him a look of fiery resentment, about to say something horrible to him before he piped up with a teasing, “And to think, you had the worst crime out of all of us the entire time!”

“It’s not funny!” you scolded, both your raised voice and Dabi’s incessant cackling stirring the reptiles. “I was just defending myself! But now I’m probably going to jail! How do you think that feels, huh? How do you think it feels to not have anywhere to go or anyone to rely on right now?”

Dabi’s laughter suddenly ceased, as fast as a flame blown out by a quick, strong breath. His face became blanker than you’d ever seen it, completely serious as he replied, “Probably pretty fuckin’ shitty. But y’know what. That’s life, ain’t it? No one’s ever really there to save you.” He leaned in closer, looming over you, his shadow casting across your form and making you disappear into the darkness that filled the red room. “All you ever really have is yourself,” he went on, his simmering anger boiling hotter and hotter with each new sentence. “And that’s what happens to the weak ones. They can’t protect themselves when worse comes to worst. Because there’s never gonna be any grand hero to swoop in to your rescue. And the sooner we all realize that, the better. So quit your fuckin’ crying—” He was pointing a finger at you now, tears having started streaming down your face again without you even realizing it. “Grow the fuck up, and figure out what you’re gonna do about it. ‘Cause you’re all you got. Understand?”

Your entire body was shaking and, staring up at him in the eerie red light, a dangerous glint shining in his eyes, Dabi really looked like a monster. But you’d slayed one of those before. If you had a straight razor, you could do it again. Though, you didn’t really want to be a killer. Or rather, you didn’t want to get used to killing. Because you still believed that you were a good person, that you maybe even deserved good things.

You’d crossed a line, sure. One that, in the eyes of society, would spell irreversible damage.

But wasn’t that always the way these kinds of things played out? By showing you one atrocity only to prepare you for another, much more traumatizing one? Constantly reminding you, it could all be much worse?

“But don’t worry…” Dabi side eyed you as he said, “I won’t rat you out. People like you and me, we gotta do what we need to in order to survive.” He leaned forward to place his silver lighter on the coffee table, taking another long drag to calm his nerves.

“Thanks…” but there is no you and me, you wanted to say. Instead, you just scooted a few inches away from him, hoping Tomura would come back soon.

Until he and Spinner returned, however, you and Dabi opted for awkward silence. You were just trying not to think about the blood on your hands, even if the bastard had deserved it. Dabi though…

Dabi’s mind was in a much different place.

Because as he’d peered down at you in the redlight, the dim patch of fluorescent illumination directly above the couch that the room allowed shimmering in your big, terrified eyes…

He’d realized that what he’d felt spike in his chest when he’d glanced at you and Tomura cuddling in the backseat was indeed jealousy, the emotion slowly seething into his skin only to inevitably radiate from him if he didn’t find a way to cure it soon.

And the other night when he’d kicked you and Tomura out of the car and sped off. That had been a mistake, hadn’t it? What he should’ve done was dumped that silver-haired suicidal off on the curb and insisted on driving you home. Maybe then it could’ve been him sharing pancakes with you at the diner instead. Maybe then it would’ve just been the two of you splitting the money and not this useless third party who was going to spend it on who knows what useless shit.

Dabi clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself from sneaking another glance at you but, just like when it came to his addiction, he didn’t have much self control.

Whatever, he tried to convince himself. Once this deal is done, we’ll all go our separate ways and never have to see each other again.

Only, what if that wasn’t true. What if that was only true for him, and you and Tomura went back to your apartment or some motel or, fuck it, you’d have money, you could get a room somewhere nice, and fucked again.

Just the thought of that grungy loser’s hands all over you was making Dabi start to lose his cool. And you’d let Tomura kiss you too? Let him run his tongue all over the inside of your mouth and down your neck and inside your tight little pussy? Disgusting.

Bet I could make you feel better than he did, Dabi thought to himself as his leg began to bounce anxiously. Bet I could fuck you so good you’d forget you’d ever met him.

But then, before Dabi could start to really spin out of control from the jealousy and withdrawal, Spinner and Tomura reenerted the reptile room, both you and Dabi looking over and awaiting that fateful number.

“So, I took a look and…” Spinner began, pretending to hold you and Dabi in suspense while the smirk on Tomura’s face said he already knew the price you’d be splitting three ways. “It’s in pretty good condition. Whoever you stole it from must’ve just bought it and, based on the paper plates, it had to have been within the last thirty days. I’ll give you twenty thousand. Three ways that’s—”

“Over six thousand each…” you breathed out in sheer disbelief. That was more cash than you’d ever had in your bank account, let alone all at once.

You couldn’t fathom it. The thought of what you could do with that much money. The thought of getting out of that shitty apartment and moving to a better part of the city, one where you could get hired at a salon that was much more high end than the back alley one you’d been previously employed at…

If you hadn’t killed someone, that is.

If you weren’t soon to be a wanted criminal.

“That’s right,” Spinner confirmed, taking out a thick envelope and handing it off to Tomura who looked pretty proud of himself.

Dabi, however, was not as pleased…

“Twenty thousand?” he asked, standing and tossing his half finished cigarette down onto the concrete floor of the warehouse, stomping it out with his first stride towards the dealer. “Nah. No way. Things worth at least one hundred thousand new. Maybe even more than that.”

“Sorry,” Spinner shrugged. “That’s as high as I can go.”

Dabi’s hands clenched into fists by his sides and you were sure he was finally going to throw that punch he’d been holding back all this time. So you intervened again, saying, “That’s more than enough to get your drugs.” Dabi looked over his shoulder lightning fast, that vengeful and violent shine back in his eyes and honed in right on you. Meanwhile, Tomura was ready to jump between you two if Dabi really did lose his temper.

“Cute,” Dabi spit, whirling back towards Tomura and his friend before eying the envelope containing the cash. He could just steal it. Yeah. Once the three of you were out of here, Dabi could take it and run. “And you,” he nodded aggressively at Tomura. “What the hell do you need it for, huh?”

Tomura’s eyes widened a bit, his jaw clenched as he gripped the envelope tighter, Dabi taking a step towards him. He then opened his mouth to throw a hostile reply right back, but no words came.

In truth, he didn’t know.

Before meeting you, Tomura probably would’ve blown it all on one hell of a self-destructive night before finally pulling the trigger and ending it all. But now…

Well, he’d have to figure that out once he discovered what you were planning to do.

“What?” Dabi smirked, cruelty seeping back into his voice. “You gonna pay someone off to perform a hit on you or somethin’?”

Tomura warned with a growl, “Don’t test me…” his eyes going wide, though this time in a much more feral, dangerous way than before. Then, ever so slowly, he placed the cash in his back pocket. He could take it and run too, if he wanted. He just had to get past Dabi to grab you first.

“Guys…?” you spoke, sensing the growing tension and hoping to calm things before they really spiraled out of control. “C’mon. We got the money. Now let’s just go…”

Dabi ignored you, clearly occupied on setting Tomura off before calling it quits with the little ragtag trio the team of you had formed. And part of him, whether he realized it or not, wanted you to see that, just because Tomura had remained relatively calm during all the recent chaos, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of flying off the hinges too.

Because what was that saying again?

Always watch out for the quiet ones?

“Y’know, I’m not really convinced that someone like you even deserves that kind of money,” Dabi went on. Spinner was getting fed up with this quarrel too, though his concern was more for the fact that all this bad energy swirling in the room was bound to upset his replies than if one of the boys left here with a black eye. “So why don’t you just do the right thing and give it to me and the girl so we can get on with our lives while you keep trying to end yours.”

“Just stop it!” you’d tried to shout out, but it was too late.

Tomura moved fast.

Too fast.

Just a blur of black and silver and crimson, a snarl echoing off the concrete and eyes flashing with ill intent as he lunged at Dabi, the force sending both of them falling to the ground.

It was clear to everyone in the room that Tomura had never been in a real fight before, the way he wildly and clumsily threw punches that Dabi blocked with mocking ease. It wasn’t long until Dabi gained the upper hand and flipped the scrawny, scraggly boy on his back, jumping on top of him and showing him what a real punch looked and felt like.

Spinner was shouting. You were crying, screaming at the two of them to “Please stop! Knock it off already!” and Tomura and Dabi were rolling and clawing and cursing at each other while fighting for possession of that damn envelope.

The three of you were once again plunged into connected chaos, though this time none of you seemed to know how to rescue each other.

Eventually, the envelope slid from both their gasps and landed right in front of you. In a moment of panic and impulse, you grabbed it up and then snatched the lighter Dabi had left on the coffee table, flicking it open and producing a flame, holding it dangerously close to the cash and bellowing out, “BOTH OF YOU STOP OR I— I’M BURNING IT!”

All of the oxygen in the room felt like it had been sucked out at once.

Even Spinner was holding his breath, as if he had something to lose.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” Dabi shouted, voice cracking with a shriek upturning at the end.

“Get off him or I swear I’ll do it!” And you weren’t bluffing, the flame kissing the edge of the envelope and beginning to toast the crinkled paper, causing Dabi to obey instantly, holding his hands up in surrender and stepping off Tomura, who was coughing from when Dabi had closed his hands around his throat.

And Dabi only hated Tomura more now.

He’d hated him from the very first moment his stolen car had nearly run the suicidal maniac over in the street. He’d hated him when he’d dropped you two off near your apartment and sped off with the music blaring, just knowing that the two of you were going to fuck. He’d hated him when he’d seen you sharing pancakes at the diner just earlier that morning. And he’d hated him when he’d seen him rest his head on top of yours in the rear view mirror like two lovesick puppies leeching warmth off each other.

He hated that you were willing to throw away life changing amounts of cash just to save Tomura from a black eye and some broken ribs. Hated that you cared more about the silver-haired freak than the bigger picture here— the picture that he was soon to be painted out of.

Because time after time, Dabi had lost in life. He’d lost, most times, because he fell in with bad company or couldn’t run fast enough when a job went south. He’d lost because he’d become a slave to his addiction and couldn’t give two shits about correcting it. And he’d had the perfect opportunity to be the one you’d invited back to your apartment, the one you’d shared shitty diner food with, and the one you’d curl up in the car with, but he’d blown it because he just couldn’t let himself have anything good without thinking there was going to be a catch.

“Just give me the lighter…” Dabi spoke softly to you now, as if talking you off a ledge, one hand extending for you to toss the zippo into, or, in another world, take hold of.

You hesitated, slowly but surely lowering the flame, dropping the lighter to the floor as you drew in frantic, uneven breaths. With one hand clutching his ribs, which were likely bruised after that altercation, Tomura pushed himself to his feet and came over to stand before you, saying something to you quiet enough that Dabi couldn’t hear. But you handed Tomura back the envelope and that’s all that really mattered in the end, right?

“Let’s just get out of here,” Tomura spoke louder now, turning to address Dabi as well. “It’s a long walk back into the city.”

And with that, the three of you left the odd maze of Spinner’s contraband castle and headed back down the long stretch of abandoned highway that you’d come, the sun already beginning to sink towards the horizon before you were halfway home.

***

All three of you were exhausted, mentally and physically, and exchanged minimal conversation throughout your trek back towards civilization before Dabi just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Does he know?” he asked, nodding his head from you to Tomura.

“Know what?” you asked, though you already had a pretty good idea about what he was alluding to.

“Oh, so he doesn’t know…”

“He does know,” you sighed, exasperated. Meanwhile, Tomura just made sure the envelope of cash was kept out of Dabi’s reach.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Dabi then asked Tomura directly, nudging him a little and causing him to flinch away. 

“Cut it out, man,” Tomura rasped, a slight grimace flashing across his features before fatigue reclaimed them.

“Whatever…” Dabi rolled his eyes, a certain mischievous lilt to his tone, edging Tomura on and grasping at straws to find any reason to cause a rift between you two. “I just know that if I was gonna fuck some random girl, I’d wanna know whether I was stickin’ my dick in a murderer or n—”

Again, Tomura moved unexpectedly fast, a cloud of dust kicked up from under his beat up red converse as he whirled on Dabi, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, spit flecked through gritted teeth as he puffed out a vicious breath.

Dabi raised his hands as if surrendering, yet still had the gall to say, “Hey, I’m just lookin’ out for ya. Your funeral, buddy. Though, maybe you’d like that.”

“Tomura, he’s not worth it…” you nearly whispered, too tired to burst out in fury like you had before. You placed a hand on Tomura’s back and pulled him from his blinding rage, slowly retracting to melt back into your gentle, understanding touch. “Please… Let’s just go home.”

You and Tomura each had an arm wrapped around one other, walking with slightly staggering steps as you guided him away and further down the road. 

“Yeah…” Dabi scoffed to himself, clenching his fists at the sight of you two huddled together again. “Let’s go home.”

***

It took another two hours until the skyline of the city that had damned all three of you came into sight, another sixty painful minutes ticking by before you actually set foot back in the territory. And you should’ve known by now, especially in Dabi’s company, that you were never really home free.

Because the moment you thought you could breathe easy and part ways, enjoy the remainder of the stroll back to your apartment with Tomura to count your cash and make a plan, Dabi ran into an old friend.

Or rather, an old friend ran into Dabi.

“Pretty fuckin’ brave of you to show your face around here again!” a rough voice called from behind, causing all three of you to turn in unison, six eyes gone wide and bearing different breeds of fear.

“Shit,” Dabi hissed under his breath, pushing you two along and tacking on an urgent, “We gotta go. Now.”

“Not so fast, hot shot,” another big, burly, tattoo-covered man chuckled as he stepped out of the nearest alley, blocking your path with a crowbar in hand. “It’s time to pay up, Dabi.”

You and Tomura braced yourselves, scanning the group of men that were circling around you for any gaps big enough to slip through and make an escape. But the pack only tightened, more and more criminals emerging from the shadows armed with flashes of sharp silver or rusted iron.

“Hey, boys…” Dabi replied, trying to hide the quiver in his tone with an uncharacteristically friendly lilt. “Been a while, huh?” He was backing up towards you and Tomura, possibly trying to make a run for it himself, but there was no escape now. Not for any of you. Especially not for you, what with the hungry way the pack of men stared you down, nearly salivating at all their own disgusting thoughts.

“I sure hope you have our money,” the one who was presumably the leader of the gang went on, a smug grin plastered across his scarred face, tapping the weight of the crowbar in his palm with a steady beat. “‘Cause if ya don’t…” He swung the crowbar forward, causing all three of you to jolt as it pointed directly at Dabi. “Well, then we’re gonna have a biiiiiig problem, ain’t we?”

And he knew that Dabi didn’t have the money.

Or, at least, he normally wouldn’t have, if not for the cash he’d collected from selling the stolen car.

But still, even that wasn’t enough to pay off the entire debt and Dabi was too hell bent on securing more of his drugs before he’d even consider handing this man a single dollar.

And you and Tomura, well…

You still needed your cut.

None of you were too keen on going down without some kind of fight.

Not when you’d come this far through hell to finally catch a glimpse of the twisted heaven on the horizon.

“Yeah, well, about that…” Dabi chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head and trying to stay calm. Meanwhile, you and Tomura noticed some of the rough and tumble facade melt away, leaving only a guy who had been way in over his head from the start.

And it happened so fast. The flash of metal. A silver streak appearing and disappearing before anyone could really see what it was. But left in its wake was a slash of red and a guttural howling, the scene growing smaller and smaller behind you until you realized that someone was dragging you along by your wrist, you nearly tripping over your own feet as you glanced over your shoulder with horror, blood turning to ice.

Maybe Dabi had shouted, “Run!”

Maybe he hadn’t.

But now all three of you were high tailing it down a series of narrow alleys, Tomura’s grip on you like a vice, desperate and unrelenting. At some point, you think you were telling him he was hurting you, trying to pull away when you felt the pressure growing over your bones, thorny pangs of pain peppered over your skin. But he didn’t hear you over the surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. And even if he did, he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not until you were somewhere safe and warm with him and no one else.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Dabi shouted when he rounded the next corner and halted, you and Tomura nearly barreling into him as you skid to a stop and were faced with a dead end. “Uh… New plan!” He backed up, peering down the remaining stretch of straight path and seeing the silhouettes of even more enemies pop up to cage you in, a big dumpster wedged in the middle of the narrow alley slowing them down, but not for long.

Panicked, he started back down the dead end, spotting a fire escape ladder just out of reach, rushing over to jump up to try and grab hold and pull it down, but every attempt was met with no more than his fingers barely brushing against the first bar.

“What are we doing, guys?!” you shouted, your panic catching up with you as you stared down the alley and watched as your pursuers became dangerously closer by the second. Your heart was pounding, pulse beating so fast and hard that it hurt. Though, meanwhile, unbeknownst to you amongst the dread, Tomura had gone over to assist, Dabi lifting him to pull down the ladder.

You froze. Paralyzed with terror as a group of silhouettes were mere yards away. So close you could see the whites of their eyes. You’d meant to yell, to scream, anything to inform the boys that they were coming. But then that rough, scarred hand grabbed yours again and pulled you towards the ladder, practically pushing you up it even as you scrambled as fast as you could to climb.

Dabi was already at the top, extending a hand to you to pull you up to the landing.

And the only reason Tomura dared let go of you was because he thought that Dabi would just pull you up and then keep running on his own. So when the inky haired bastard locked his fist around your wrist and took off with you. Well…

Tomura saw red.

“Wait! Ow— Stop!” You tried to protest, fighting harder against his grip than you had on Tomura’s, digging your heels into the ground only to be yanked forward to nearly stumble over the next flight of stairs. You looked behind you for Tomura, not even having time to make sure he’d made it up the ladder before you’d been taken hostage again. You called his name, hoping— praying— that he’d call back. Let you know he was ok. That he’d made it—

But there was only silence.

“STOP!” you shrieked, reaching forward with your free hand to dig your nails into Dabi’s arm, clawing viciously at his inked skin until he had no choice but to let go, a few thin rivulets of blood welling up from the pale surface.

“Jesus— What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He scolded, sapphire eyes smoldering with white hot fury beneath a deep scowl.

“Tomura—!”

“Who fucking cares?!” Dabi shouted over your cries, which were quickly turning to sobs— fat, glistening tears welling in your eyes and streaking shimmering lines down your cheeks in pairs. Your chest was heaving with shallow breaths, suffocating yourself every time you tried to draw in more air, feeling like you were going to throw up. Like you were going to pass out. Like you were going to die.

“But he—!”

“Better him than us!” Dabi cut in with a snarl, approaching you with fists clenched. You winced when he came close enough that his shadow cast over you, shielding your face with your arms as if you expected a strike. “Now, unless you want those guys to rip you apart, then I suggest you stop your fucking crying and fucking run.”

His voice was icy hot. Searing into your heart like millions of barbed fish hooks, each one connected to a line that pulled in a different direction, intending to unravel you. To massacre you.

You felt your world sway and caught yourself on the railing of the staircase, peering down over the edge at the vast drop below.

And the thought did cross your mind. To jump. To end it all. But then from the landing below came, “Keep going!”

Both you and Dabi looked at each other with varying degrees of relief and confusion before you turned to see Tomura sprinting up the staircase, out of breath but still refusing to slow down. Immediately all your dread was replaced with a vibrant joy, a beaming, yet crooked smile lighting up your face and contrasting eerily with the tears that still spilled from your eyes.

“Tomura! You—”

“The ladder!” He huffed, coming to a stop and nearly doubling over once he joined you and Dabi on the next landing. An awful wheezing sound rattled in his chest with every inhale he took, bracing his hands on his knees for a moment before finding the will to stand and finishing his sentence with, “Tried to pull it up but it got stuck halfway… They’re probably… On their way…”

“Like I said—!” Dabi snapped, getting ready to run again. “We gotta go. Now.”

So the three of you took off— together this time— the top of the building but a landing away now, though you could hear the frantic clattering of heavy footsteps not far below.

“What happens once we get to the roof?” You called to Dabi, who was already on the final ladder.

“Just trust me!” he shouted back, extending a hand once again to pull you up, though you were careful not to hold on too tightly after what had just happened moments ago.

As Tomura climbed the ladder, he muttered to himself, “I don’t like those odds…”

But once you were on the roof, Dabi seemed to know the terrain better than he did on the ground. Because, up here, you could see the entire city laid out before you. All the narrow, intertwining streets appeared like an elaborate maze with the heart of the district shimmering like a mirage in the summer heat far, far in the distance.

“We’ll head towards the shopping district and lose ‘em there,” Dabi explained as you and Tomura followed behind him in a line, treading much more carefully than your surefooted, tattooed friend so as to avoid a deadly fall. “My place isn’t far. We’ll hide out there for a while till we can make sure the streets are clear.”

“Won’t they know where to find you?” you asked, nearly rolling your eyes as such an obvious flaw in his plan. “I mean, you can’t be telling me that these guys don’t know where you live.”

Dabi smirked to himself, eyes trained on where his next step would land upon the roof to avoid any loose shingles as he replied with an overconfident, “Well, that’s just one of the perks of this lifestyle, sweetheart. Anywhere can be your home when you don’t really have one of your own.”

You scoffed at his arrogance, not exactly finding it very funny to be making jokes at a time like this, but ultimately you let it go. It was a bridge you’d cross when you came to it, so long as you could get to the other end of the slanted path you were currently on.

But Dabi wasn’t joking.

He had a place. Several, in fact. A hideout in every corner of the outskirts. And every time one of them was discovered or raided, he’d just count his losses, retrieve what little he could, and forge a new hole to call home until the process inevitably repeated.

It was how he’d survived this long. How he’d evaded his enemies just long enough to extend his deadline or wrack up an even bigger debt.

Lucky for you, though, he was taking you back to his favorite hideout. It could almost pass for an actual place someone might be able to call home. Almost.

“Hey, I think we lost ‘em…” Tomura eventually remarked as you’d changed to your third rooftop, standing still and staring over the scenery behind you. Lo and behold, your pursuers were nowhere to be seen.

Dabi stopped to listen in, the whistling from a strong gust of wind the only sound to be heard up here other than the muffled traffic drifting over from a few streets down. “Yeah…” Dabi muttered, then clearing his throat to speak loud enough for you both to hear, “Yeah, I think we lost ‘em. C’mon. Let’s go.”

A few more unstable rooftops and several flights of rusted fire escape staircases later and the three of you were back on solid ground. And it was sort of strange, unexpectedly, being back among the maze of buildings and alleys after experiencing the view of the city from so high up. You felt so much smaller than you had before, gazing up through the gaps in the architecture at the sliver of sky which had just expanded all around you, painting over the muted greys and browns of your world with a serene shade of blue.

“Hey, c’mon…” Tomura urged quietly, taking your hand in his once more, though much more gently this time, and guiding you to follow after him, careful not to press into the bruises that were already beginning to blossom on your wrist from the abuse between him and Dabi forcing you along. “We gotta go.”

But you just wanted to stay and stare up at the sky, unable to shake the feeling that perhaps that was the first time you’d ever truly seen it— a sprawling revelation expanding around you after you’d just been fearing for your life, the city never that quiet, never that still, the heat of summer not so stifling when there was so much fresh air swirling around you.

But your feet carried you after Tomura, drifting closer to where Dabi was checking to make sure the coast was clear from the opening in the alley that would merge back onto the main streets, waving you two forward in a wordless announcement that it was safe.

“Just a few more blocks,” Dabi sighed, careful cerulean gaze scanning the narrow horizon like prey expecting to find a predator lurking among the telephone poles and parked cars. But then he looked at you, noticed the tranquil daze that had overtaken your features, and asked with a skeptical squint, “You holdin’ up ok?”

It took a second for you to realize he was talking to you, snapping out of your daydream and becoming more alert as you looked up at him and replied with a shaky, “Y-yeah… I’m fine,” as you melted back into Tomura’s side.

And Dabi wished that Tomura wouldn’t have made it past the first ladder. That he’d been caught by those thugs and pulled down, beaten to death and left to suffer on the grimey concrete. Because then maybe he could be the one whose hand you were holding. Whose chest you were starting to lean against. He could take you the rest of the way to his little hole in the wall apartment and get you something to drink, sling an arm around you and pull you close until you stopped trembling and he’d convinced you that no one— not the cops or any backstreet criminals— was going to take you from him.

But the bastard who’d tried to kill himself by stepping in front of the car was the one who currently protected your heart, the one who was allowed to touch you and whisper how it isn’t much further, we’ll be there soon.

Dabi cursed himself for the man he’d been twenty-four hours ago. The man who was so hardened from this life that he’d fallen into that he was no longer able to recognize something that was good before he scorned it, scorched it, ruined it with harsh words and biting remarks.

Deep down, though…

Deep down he stoked the embers of hope in the hearth of his heart. Hope that maybe, if you could just get through this, he could convince you to be his.

“It’s right this way,” Dabi informed the two of you as you rounded the next corner, this street wider than most of the others you’d traveled down yet entirely abandoned. Only some littered newspaper scraps or empty cardboard boxes blown astray from overflowing dumpsters scuttling along the street when a breeze blew by.

“Where even are we?” you asked as you continued to survey the place, surprised not to find even a single parked car, taxi, moped, anything in sight.

“It’s better if you don’t know, actually,” Dabi mumbled, fishing a set of keys out of one of his pockets and flipping through them until he found the correct one. 

It was only then, just as he swung open a heavy metal door and held it as if wanting you to enter first that it occurred to you. Such a chilling, stomach turning realization.

You stopped short halfway through your next step, giving Tomura’s hand a slight squeeze in warning like you had in the car on the way to Spinner’s.

What if this was a trap?

What if Dabi was planning on killing the two of you and claiming your shares of the cash for himself?

It wouldn’t be hard to do. Not once he shut that door behind you— one that might only open one way, for all you knew— and guided you further into an unfamiliar building. He’d been so quick with that switchblade before. Only, this time, instead of slashing an eye it would be you and Tomura’s throats.

“What’s the matter?” Tomura inquired with a concerned mutter, leaning down a little to keep the conversation private.

But then Dabi called over with an impatient, “Hurry it up! Can’t be out in the open for too long!”

You just shook your head, shuffling back a half step while your eyes remained stuck on Dabi holding open the door.

“C’mon, it’s ok. We’re fine now,” Tomura tried to urge you, gently tugging you along until you caved and your feet stumbled forward, heartbeat hammering as you squeezed Tomura’s hand even tighter. He could feel your entire body shaking, but he figured that was more from the trauma of the recent events than the possible fear of being murdered by the third member of your unlikely trio.

Once you were inside, the door shutting behind you with a high pitched creak whining from its rusted hinges, you were engulfed in complete darkness for longer than you were comfortable with, paranoia lacing through your veins with a jittery shiver until Dabi flicked on a light switch and the place was set ablaze with vivid blue— graffied flames painted along the floors and walls that glowed under the blacklight. 

“It’s not much but…” Dabi shrugged. “They won’t find us here.”

And just like that, your mood flipped. You were in awe for the second time that day, unable to believe the sight before you was one that belonged to your usually bleak reality. 

“Did you…” you breathed out with a sigh, a fresh wave of calm overtaking you as you and Tomura followed Dabi down the long hallway. “Did you do all this?”

Dabi hummed out a short chuckle. “Yeah, well, sometimes I find myself having to hide out for a little longer than usual, so…”

Beyond the tunnel of blue flames, behind the only door located in the expansive corridor, was a single floor, several makeshift walls and barriers constructed from cardboard boxes or mismatched, patchwork pieces of plastic creating little rooms among the warehouse-like expanse. The walls of this place were also decorated with the glowing blue flames, the inferno that ignited along the hall growing into a raging wildfire with some red accents for contrast.

Dabi flipped on the main lights and the art disappeared, plain concrete walls swallowing the fiery blaze and bathing the hideout in bright fluorescence, some of the lamps flickering every once in a while to remind you that this place was not a magical fantasyland, but a dilapidated, definitely not up to safety code concrete box that you could very well be calling home for the foreseeable future.

“You can take your shoes off,” Dabi began, already heading towards one of the little sectioned off rooms, “Or don’t. I don’t care. Sit wherever. Whatever.” Then, from the room that was most likely his makeshift kitchen, he called out, “Hey, either of you want a drink?!”

For a moment, you’d forgotten Tomura was even there, his hand locked with yours just feeling like second nature at this point. So when he called back, “Some water might be nice!” you nearly jolted at the sudden voice. He then guided you over to the tiny, scuffed up couch and sat beside you, searching your face— your eyes— for something.

“Hey…” he muttered, brushing some of your disheveled hair away from your sweat streaked face, eyes still a little puffy from crying on the fire escape. “You ok…?”

You started crying again, slowly at first, then sobbing uncontrollably as you buried your face into his shoulder, your wailing muffled by the flimsy fabric of his shirt. He pulled you in closer, protectively, as Dabi re-entered the main area carrying two bottles of water and one can of beer, stride only stuttering a fraction when he witnessed your current state, the way you were clinging to Tomura for dear life again, as if he was the only thing in this world holding you together.

His grip around the beer can tightened, pressing a few small dents into the aluminum. 

“What’s wrong with ‘er now?” he asked, words coated in thick— yet forced— derision, rolling his eyes and tossing Tomura one of the water bottles before jumping over the back of the couch and landing on the thin cushions next to you, keeping a bit of a distance even if that wasn’t necessarily what he wanted to do right now.

Tomura unscrewed the cap of the water bottle, trying to coax you to catch your breath and take a sip as he rubbed a hand up and down your back. But you wouldn’t lift your head from his shoulder, only nuzzling into his body deeper.

Both Tomura and Dabi exchanged unsure glances, neither exactly sure what to do right now, that is, until they heard your sobs turn into laughter— a cold, cruel chuckle that hiccuped in your chest every time a lingering sob pried its way past your lungs.

When you finally pulled your face from its hiding place among Tomura’s person, your head flopped back and you slumped into the couch. You looked sort of terrifying— teeth bared in a too wide smile as your body shook from soundless amusement, tears continuing to stream down your face and collect under your chin before dripping down onto your shirt.

“Bitch is fuckin’ crazy…” Dabi mumbled under his breath as he raised the beer can to his lips, though he jumped when a particularly loud burst of laughter tore through your throat. Then he couldn’t take his eyes off you, usually half-lidded and unbothered stare going wide enough to rival Tomura’s as he sat there frozen and unblinking, beer can still lifted to his lips yet he didn’t dare take a single sip.

And Tomura, well…

Tomura knew the feeling.

“I just can’t believe…” you barely were able to get the words out, battling between the incessant urge to cry and laugh at the same time, chest beginning to burn from the lack of oxygen in your delirious and hysterical state. “I just can’t believe that we’re alive… We’re alive…”

Tomura swallowed hard, gulped down the past few hours and hoped the monster drowned in his stomach acid before it gained enough strength to crawl back up his throat. He uttered your name— a nervous, unsure set of syllables that felt wrong in his mouth, sounded wrong to your ears. But then Dabi started laughing, his sounding low and rough and downright sinful at the realization that, yes, you’d all made it back alive.

And there was still twenty thousand dollars to split between you. Six thousand each.

“Y’know what,” Dabi said, leaning forward and setting his beer down on the busted and scratched coffee table in front of the couch. “I think the three of us make a pretty alright team.” Both you and Tomura’s gazes snapped his way, your laughter slowly fading until even the smile was wiped from your face.

Finally, Tomura said, “We almost died back there.”

“Well then maybe you should be thanking me,” Dabi responded with a hint of cruelty mixed into his tone, still holding on tight to the grudge against the silver-haired boy for stepping in front of his stolen car. Though, at this point, it really wasn’t even about that anymore, was it?

“What do you mean team?” you then cut in, feeling the tension between the two of them growing and hoping to defuse the situation before it erupted again. Even so, some sarcasm couldn’t help but shine through your words, one of your eyebrows quirked up in some kind of dramatic confusion. “The way I remember it, you wanted to leave us for dead on more than one occasion.”

“Look, I’m not used to workin’ with other people, alright?” Dabi shot back, clearly feeling cornered now, both you and Tomura setting distrusting stares upon his inked skin and sapphire eyes. “So, sorry if things didn’t always go off without a hitch—” He leaned forward, tightening the huddle between you three. “But what I’m tryna say is…”

Dabi took a moment to search your eyes, studying them, memorizing their color and the way they looked in the light versus the dark. Then he shifted his gaze to Tomura, who’s bright scarlet was far less alluring. Dabi didn’t know what you saw in him— saw in his dry, cracked, scarred skin and all that shaggy silver hair that fell into his eyes. Because all Dabi saw was someone not worth the trouble. Someone who would bury him— bury the both of you— along with himself if he got the right chance.

Perhaps Tomura was a risk in all of this.

Perhaps Dabi would live to regret trusting him.

But Dabi knew that if he wanted you— and he most certainly did want you— then Tomura was going to have to be the stray that tagged along. At least, until he could think of a better way to get rid of him…

“What I’m tryna say is that I think the three of us could pull off some pretty decent jobs,” Dabi finally concluded.

You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking if you traced over the lines of his tattoos or dared to submerge yourself into the blue of his stare for long enough you’d figure out what angle he was working, what catch would be tacked on to the end of such an offer. Though, in your hesitation, Tomura seemed to have put some of the scattered pieces to this puzzle he could gather together in his own head. He held his stare with Dabi and asked, that raspy, dangerous darkness overtaking his tone as he lowered his voice and asked, “Like what?”

And that was it.

From that moment on, you were in, all three of you leaning in closer and closer to each other as Dabi detailed some robberies he’d been trying to plan— robberies that required more than one person who knew the streets like he did and would have each other’s backs if things took a turn— elaborating on the fact that they were mostly on his enemies, guys who’d either wronged him in the past or would in the very near future if someone didn’t remind them they weren’t untouchable.

“But that’s just the warm up,” Dabi smirked, wearing that arrogant grin as he gave a half shrug, rolling his eyes a bit as if to say, child’s play. “I say we test out just how well we work together on these guys, then move onto something a little less pedestrian and more, say… Corporate.”

You thought of your view standing upon those rooftops, the heart of the city that you’d been cast out of so long ago shimmering in the distant summer heat. Close enough to dream of but still too far away to touch.

Dabi chuckled to himself then, posing the question, “I mean, what do we really have to lose?”

You’d wondered that for a while now.

Maybe it was about time you found out.

For the remainder of the night, the three of you tunneled deeper and deeper into Dabi’s plans, exploring every nook and cranny of the scheme until you felt like enough of the holes had been filled and openings in the fences patched up. By the time the hands on the clock were beginning to run into the early hours of the next morning, your eyelids were growing too heavy for you to fight against anymore. 

You were exhausted and both the boys saw it.

So Tomura took the envelope out of his pocket, counted out each of your shares, Dabi counting his twice just to make sure, and thus the alliance was set. After that, you guys called it quits for the day, got some rest and allowed yourselves to recharge before the first act of your ambitious new activities would commence. And as you fell asleep curled up close to Tomura on that narrow couch, half of your body draped over him and finding comfort in the slow rise and fall of his chest, Dabi’s words kept repeating in your head over and over, an endless, overlapping echo of, “What do we really have to lose?”

You found the answer just before slipping unconscious, you think, though by the time you’d wake up tomorrow you’d forget it.

What do we have to lose? Well, the only thing that’s really ever been ours to begin with.

Our lives.

***

(Hello and thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Please do check out the MV this fic is based on if you get the chance, it’s one I’ve loved since it came out all the way back in 2017, though perhaps you ought to wait until the fic is finished since it’s likely you’ll be able to predict some spoilers haha.

Anyway, future chapters will feature more of the Dabi x Reader side of things so for those of you who prefer Dabi please be patient with me! There’s actually a scene that’s been in my head for a while that I’m really looking forward to writing when the time comes.

I originally planned to write this fic in three parts but given how much more involved it became the more I developed it, now it's likely going to end up being somewhere between five and ten depending. I'll probably end up breaking up the original "three parts" into slightly shorter (though still lengthy) chapters so I'm able to post updates more consistently throughout this year rather than only be able to put out one huge chapter every few years.

Anyway, I really appreciate everyone’s patience and hope that you look forward to the next chapter. With that being said, I’ll see you soon!

Byyyyye~)

[mooblesandsoups]

Digging up some unfinished writing WIPS to post for fun I might finish them eventually though.

First up is flower ranchers cause they make me sick/pos featuring my own interpretation of a possible fan kid born from a joke post on Instagram.

(P.s. This is my first time properly writing Tango so im sorry if my interpretation is wrong lol also sorry for spelling/grammar mistakes)

The chaos slowly calmed down as Jimmy looked over the edge of the canyon between the ranch. He can hear some cheer in celebration while others let out sighs of relief as they see that the warden is down in the ravine.

Bringing up a warden to the surface was probably one of if not the craziest idea Tango had ever had, don't get him wrong he loved his rancher but he had to admit his ideas were crazy sometimes…. Well all the time.

Speaking of his rancher, Jimmy turned over to see Tango crouched down mourning the loss of all his hard work. Jimmy smiles softly before shaking his head and patting Tango on the back.

“Stupid fishing rods.. Stupid ravine ruining my plan” he mumbled as Jimmy let out another chuckle much to his partners dismay.

“I'm sure you can get them next time Tango!” Jimmy responded excitedly looking down at his partner. The blaze almost immediately perked back up to look at Jimmy, a small pout still visible on his lips.

Jimmy can't help but laugh at the other earning him a huff from Tango which only erupted into laughter.

Soon enough the laughter between the two settled down, Jimmy looked back up at Tango, a soft smile on his face as he examined everything about his rancher, his soulmate..

He couldn't be happier.

At least that's what he should've thought; he was happy, Tango was happy!.. It was all perfect. Still he had a guilty feeling that sat down below in his stomach that had finally resurfaced back in his life making him feel sick and evil, accompanying the feelings were memories he thought were long gone.

Memories filled with loving words from the man with hair as blue as the sky, and eyes that looked back at him full of love; mixing with soft laughter and laughter from their daughter. He missed it so damn much, but death games were just so finicky and strange he didn't know where they stand anymore.

So he moved on not like he had any choice, then he met Tango and everything felt better. Even with a bit of a rocky start he couldn't be happier with his soulmate, but that didn't stop the feeling in his heart telling him something was missing.

“Jimmy?" A voice spoke up softly, breaking Jimmy from his daydream." Are you alright bud? Kinda lost you there huh” Tango said with a small worried smile.

Jimmy smiled back pushing his thoughts aside for him to worry about later, “Sorry just zoned out” he chuckled as Tango let out a soft sigh of relief.

“Thanks good, I was starting to think you're getting bored of me,” Tango laughed, obviously meaning it jokingly.

“What pftt!?!? I could never get bored of you!" Jimmy chuckled, noticing the pink blush now on his partner's face. Making his head wings flap with joy at his Ranchers reaction..

Jimmy doesn't think he could ever get bored of him either…

The thought lingered for a second before being pushed down with the rest of his thoughts.

Jimmy quickly interlocked their hands together as he started pulling on the blaze’s arm, “let hurry back to the rancher it's getting late after all! “ Jimmy started enthusiastically receiving a nod of approval and a loud chuckle coming from Tango's mouth.

Jimmy smiled softly as they made their way back to the ranch luckily not too far away from where the chaos once stood.

As you get closer you can hear the soft moo's from the cows, mixing with a variety of other noises coming from the other animals. It was quite comforting actually, in comparison to the loud commotion of the games and the chaos that broke out on a daily basis it was wonderful to just have some peace and quiet every so often.

Jimmy carefully lets go of Tango's hand watching the man pout slightly as he lets go, “I'm going to go check on the animals and then start dinner” Jimmy smiled as he watched the other light back up, a small spark can be seen coming off the tip of his hair.

“Hell yeah!! Thanks rancher!” Tango cheers before reaching up to give Jimmy a quick kiss on the cheek.

Jimmy felt his wings fluff up in surprise and his face heat up, much to the amusement of Tango watching as he could only give a simple chuckle in response before making his way towards their farm.

Examining the farm everything somehow seemed to be in place; the sheep and the chickens stayed in their pens frightened from the warden attack a bit unharmed, and the small farms they had set up hadn't been through too much… sure they had been trampled but he assumed it was mostly done by a person rather than an animal, Jimmy sighed as he grabbed a bit of the remaining wheat to feed to the cows.

Finally, he made his way over to the cow pen, watching a couple of them run up to the fence post already awaiting their food; however there was another noise coming from the pen.

Looking inside he saw a young girl who appeared to be a cow hybrid of sorts; she was curled up in a tight ball in the corner of the pen, a soft sob coming from the kid looking worse for wear.

“Daisy?!” Jimmy yelled out in a panic, making Daisy's ears twitch slight before turning around out of shock to face Jimmy. Her eyes were red from crying and her clothes seemed to be dirty, perhaps from sitting in a cow pen all day.

Daisy made eye contact for a few seconds at most before bursting back into tears, shaking as she tried to stand up and run over to the canary only to fall over continuing to let out a loud cry. Jimmy dropped the wheat and opened the gate, closing it while he rushed inside to help her.

Jimmy carefully lifted her up into his arms listening to her mumble incoherent words through her sobs, “hey hey, it's okay. You're okay… What are you doing here..” Jimmy said softly as the girl muffled something into his shoulder.

Jimmy wrapped his wings around the girl instinctively as he stood up, “sh sh sh it's okay Daisy. Dear watchers, where is your father.. “ Jimmy mumbled only for the small girl to start sobbing even louder at the mention of her dad.

“Pa.. Papa…hurt." Daisy mumbled softly through tears, as Jimmy ran his hands through her hair. I'm an attempt to soothe the young girl.

“Hey hey it's okay! I'm sure your papa is fin-”

“Jimmy?”

The moment he heard the familiar voice he immediately turned around and the panic finally sunk in completely.

“Heyyyy Tango-” Jimmy laughed nervously, still trying to comfort the crying child in his arms.

“Hey- Rancher, who's kid is that?.. “ Tango said quietly, as Jimmy stayed silent looking at the cow hybrid in his arms.

The pair stayed quiet, the only thing filling it was the soft moo's of the cows and the sniffles of the girl in Jimmy's arms, that tango had zero ideas about.

“Jimmy." Tango said sternly, causing Jimmy's wings to fluff up in defense. They made eye contact as Jimmy slowly lowered his wings recognizing the look of fear and panic in Tango's eyes covered up by mock anger.

“This is Daisy, “ Jimmy paused for a moment, taking a deep breath while finishing his sentence, refusing to make eye contact with his partner.

"She's Scott's kid.. “

Now Tango was the one who had gone quite, clearly taking a moment to process the new information.

“Let's talk” Tango said softly, a sense of pity lingered in his voice. Jimmy's eyes widened expecting the blaze to be upset, instead he looked into those eyes filled with nothing but worry.

Jimmy could only nod.

—--------

After a while the two got Daisy all cleaned up the best they could, wiping off the dirt from her hands and face, fixing up her hair into a somewhat decent state, and managing to even manage to find some food she could eat in the meanwhile..

Now came the hardest part of all, there Jimmy was; sitting on the couch Tango to his left and Daisy on his right, laying down taking a nap after her long day.

“All the crying really must have worn her out huh” A voice spoke up, Jimmy looked over back at Tango, his face formed a soft smile as he looked at Jimmy.

He nodded, unsure of what to say anymore, dear watchers, he wanted so badly to tell him everything. The toughest and yet some of the loveliest times in his life he's unsure he'll ever forget… but how could he even start??

“I'm sorry… I should've told you about-” Jimmy pointed to the girl next to him, watching as she kept breathing slowly, her tail and ears twitching every so often. He continued, “ not to mention everything with Scott- I don't even think he really cares about any of it anymore! It's so stupid- especially since I'm with you now and dear watchers I love you so much Tango, but I can't stop thinking about him and 3rd life despite it being years ago! I should've gotten over him by now but i- I still- I might… “ Jimmy paused.

Looking away from the blaze Jimmy sighed as he finally took time to properly think about the word vomit that spewed out of his mouth, geez he probably looked crazy.. He put his head in his hands and groaned softly in frustration.

Jimmy wouldn't be surprised if Tango left right there and then, he basically admitted to still being in love with his ex for fucks sake!! No matter how much Jimmy still love him there's no way Tango could just accept it like tha-

“Hey rancher look at me." Tango whispered as Jimmy felt gentle hands start combing through his wings making him sigh softly as he looked up at Tango bright red eyes staring into his own with nothing but kindness behind them.. Kindness he didn't deserve.

“ You still love Scott, huh. " He said in a voice almost at a whisper like he was trying not to scare Jimmy away like a scared animal. Jimmy nodded, Tango had said it, the words flowing out with ease as Jimmy accepted the truth.

He was in love with both of them…

“ Well first of all I'm not mad let's get that out of the way. It would be a bit hypocritical huh. “ Tango said, ending with a small huff as his hand trailed down from Jimmy's wing to his hand as he gently held it, squeezing it equally as gently.

Jimmy blinked, realizing Tango’s words.

“What?" Jimmy blurted out.

“Did- you not know about it? “ Tango asked, head tilting slightly like a cat.

“ know about what!?!?" Jimmy asked as silence filled the room.

“I'm polyamous” Tango said before letting out a small laugh. Jimmy sits in silence blinking at the blaze.

“It's ya know, when you can fall in love with multiple people” Tango speaks up again as something seemingly clicked in Jimmy's mind as he felt the heat rush to his face.

“This.. Is it a bit embarrassing then.." Jimmy says, looking away from his partner, as Tango's laughter grew from Jimmy's embarrassment.

“I don't blame you for not knowing, it's not like I go yelling about it in the streets. “ He says, patting Jimmy on the back.

“ plus.. I always hate to assume but you and Scott were always so-” Tango paused, as Jimmy looked back up at him. “ Close. It always seemed so.. unexpected, for you to break things off so suddenly especially after 3rd life. “ he said with a small look of shame painted on his face.

“ Yeah, I guess. We just kinda grew apart is all... Doesn't matter how my heart feels about it. I just wish sometimes life wasn't this weird. “ Jimmy sighs Tango's hand still on his back gently rubbing circles between his wings.

“Yeah I understand." Tango hummed softly, as the two sat in a comfortable silence. Nothing but the quiet snoring from Daisy next to him remains… Daisy.. I'm sorry I left. He thinks as he holds the young girl a bit tighter trying not to wake her up.

Suddenly a small bell went off making Jimmy and Tango jump slightly. Jimmy quickly sat up and checked the sound of his nose, his communicator, noticing a new message from Grian.

Grian: Tim you there?

SolidarityGaming: Yeah? Is there anything you need?

Grian: Have you seen Daisy anywhere Scott practically going manic trying to find her and I'm sure he would've torn up the server by now if Scar didn't stop him.

Yeah that makes sense, Jimmy let out a small huff of amusement at the thought, even before Scott and Jimmy got together in 3rd life he was always quite protective of the things or even people he cared about.

Jimmy: Yeah she's here I think she ran over to the ranch during the warden attack

Grian: Thank the Watchers

Grian: Scott said he'll be over soon

Jimmy read the message again, and again, and again.

Scott was coming over.

“Well that was simple enough” Tango said as Jimmy now realized he was looking over his shoulder. Jimmy looked at his partner in confusion as Tango met his eye, “what you two needed to talk anyways did you?" he said, tilting his head slightly.

Jimmy opened his mouth but paused, he DID need to talk to Scott, assuming Scott refused to talk to me and took Daisy without a word.. But would he do that? That is the question.

No. He wouldn't, Jimmy knew Scott. He wouldn't, No matter how much he hated someone he would never do that, avoid him maybe but they both know that won't last forever especially in these games.

Jimmy let out a deep breath, “okay. I'll talk to him.” Jimmy said making eye contact with Tango, Tango smiled putting his hand up to his head and ruffling his hair.

“There's my rancher!" Tango laughed, making Jimmy's heart flutter as he laughed along with him.

——–—————

Safe to say Jimmy was scared, no not scared. HORRIFIED, yeah that fits more than scared.

He hasn't talked to Scott properly in months, maybe even a year at this point.. He paced back and forth in front of his door, Scott was just coming over to pick up his kid. That should be easy enough! Sure that's added onto the fact he still has a major crush on his ex-husband for a while now plus the fact his current partner is 100% okay with them getting back together if they both want to.

Heck he's still trying to process that fact in itself!

Tango didn't hate him!! Or even think he's crazy whichever, he didn't know what would've been worse but he didn't have to worry too much about it anymore!

Jimmy let his thoughts linger a bit longer as he continued to pace around the room, suddenly he heard snickering coming from nearby. Jimmy picked his head up to find Tango watching him from their couch holding back laughter with his mouth covering his face with Daisy laying next to him sleeping soundly.

Jimmy felt his wings fluff up in embarrassment as his face got increasingly redder by the second.

“Don't-” Jimmy said sternly as Tango proceeded to cover his mouth with both his hands desperately trying to avoid waking up the sleeping child with his laughter.

“Sorry- sorry Jim” Tango said, letting out a small wheeze.

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 13: Spring Breaks Loose, The Time Is Near

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, First Time Together, Cunnilingus, Missionary, Doggy Style, Handjobs, Mirrors, Party, Semi-Public Sex, Quickies, Unsafe Sex, Kidnapping, Murder, Torture, Betrayal, Attempted Murder, Arthur Morgan Has Tuberculosis, Angst With A Happy Ending, Tags Updated Per Chapter

Author's Note: i’ll i’m gonna say is don’t kill me just wait until the story is done. Chapter content warning: Disease (you know which one. Also let’s pretend it’s not incredibly contagious), death

Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay@nn-hh192 @photo1030 @just-pure-trash@julialoopeezz @hqxee @salientseraphph @crypticlxrsh@lorenaloveslewis @tswizzleislike8foot4 @oziozzioslo @tinaaaa5747 Chapter List

“A-Arthur?” You managed to choke out.

He wasn’t sobbing, not like you were, but a few tears had escaped his eyes and trailed down his bearded cheeks. “Sorry, it’s just…” he trailed off, carding his fingers through your hair, making you relax the tiniest amount. 

You didn’t let him brush your concerns off, and you forced your crying to cease, which took a substantial amount of willpower, and was made easier by your concern. “It’s just…?”

He sighed, before placing the lightest kiss on your forehead. You could feel his lips move as he spoke. “It just pains me to see ya like this, darlin’.”

You pulled your head back slightly, not expecting that as an answer. Even through tear-filled eyes, you could see that he wasn’t being entirely truthful with you, his eyes turned away from you. He wasn’t lying about being upset at your distress, but there was something else to it as well. “It’s just that?”

“Yes,” he answered too soon. Worry gnawed at you, but you let the matter drop for now. You were too mentally exhausted to press further, so you let his lie satisfy your question. For now. 

Humming noncommittally, you let your head fall back against his, foreheads resting against each other. Your body still shook, your mind still overflowing with information, but oddly enough you could feel the cold weight of acceptance begin to form as well. What your brother had claimed was the truth; it would be pointless to try and claim otherwise. 

But you knew it would take time for you to fully come to terms with what he had done. And maybe you never would, but you’d learn to live with it, just like you had come to live with the cards you’d been dealt two years ago. You’d be lying, though, if you said you weren’t tired of your life being out of your control. Never again, you vowed to yourself.

You must’ve looked like you were deep in your thoughts, and so Arthur gently called your name, bringing you back to reality. “What happened, darlin’? If ya wanna talk ‘bout it,’ he added quickly.

“He… Well… I…” You tried and failed multiple times to recount the day's events, yet every time you trailed off, unable to create a clear story with the sheer amount of things that had transpired. 

“Start from the beginning,” Arthur instructed. “What happened in the morning?”

Now given a task to focus on, you took a deep breath, your thoughts now becoming understandable. “My mother and sister, Maggie, visited today.” God, was that only this morning? 

“They did? Well, that’s good…” he trailed off, uncertain.

“It was great. They came in for a few moments, much to the surprise of… of Hans,” you tried to not think about the fact that his body was lying right below you. “He seemed nervous, but I guess now he was worried they were gonna tell me somethin’.”

“Did they?”

You shook your head. “They were as much in the dark about this as I was. In fact, they were under the belief that I ran away willingly, that I was in love with Hans.” You recall the fact that Maggie had found a note saying you’d run away. “Joseph planted a fake note explaining everything, and I guess my father just kept his mouth shut about the whole ordeal, never told them the truth.”

Although it hurt less than it did with your brother, you still felt a sting of betrayal when you thought of your father. His silence was compliance; if he’d spoken up, would all of this have happened? Or would the rest of your family have disowned you for being with Hans’ child out of wedlock? Would they have been supportive? Would they have come to see you, and then see that it was all a lie? What would’ve happened then?

So many what-ifs bounced around your head that you forgot to continue your story, until you heard Arthur clear his throat, albeit a bit too loudly. It made you jump, and he apologized under his breath. “What next?” His voice was hoarse. 

“Well, we ended up headin’ to Saint Denis, a day trip with just the three of us.” Joseph must’ve gotten here during that time. “Did you know Angelo Bronte is dead?”

His silence spoke volumes, and in the back of your mind, you knew he had something to do with it. You didn’t care; Bronte was a snake who needed to be put down long ago. “We… we ended up passin’ your wanted posters. You’ve got quite the bounty on you, did you know?” He let out a small chuckle. “I told them ‘bout you,” you whispered, feeling like you were confessing something.

You felt him tense the tiniest amount. “Yeah? I’m sure I made quite the impression.”

“Sayin’ that she told me to run away with you, you didn’t strike as bad of an impression as you believe.”

Arthur sucked in a breath, making him cough lightly. “She said what?” You couldn’t tell if he was revolted by the idea, or just surprised. 

“She was in the house for maybe three minutes, but she saw how miserable I was with Hans. Then she saw how I looked at your poster,” your cheeks burned slightly, “and she got me to confess how I felt. She made me promise to get away from Hans, whether it be with divorce or running away.” You took a deep breath. “And I promised her. Once you came back, I was gonna do it. I was gonna take my life back.”

Arthur was quiet for an extended amount of time, and during that, you felt one of his hands cup the side of your face. “It’s like she read my mind,” he muttered, and you blinked at him, confused. “Do you remember, back at Bronte’s party, I was ‘bout to say somethin’ to ya before the fireworks went off?”

It took a few seconds of combing through your memories, but eventually, the scene replayed in your mind. “I do. I also remember you refused to repeat what you were tryin’ to say.”

“I lost my nerve, darlin’,” he sighed, thumb idly rubbing your cheek.

“So try it again,” you whispered, covering the hand on your cheek with your own. “What were you gonna say?” You were certain you knew what he was about to say; you just wanted to hear it from him. 

“For a moment, I believed Dutch. I believed him when he said that the bank robbery would be the last score we’d need to get the law off our back. We’d get enough money to start anew, where I wouldn’t have to worry ‘bout providin’ for the gang any longer. ‘Cause of that, I let myself dream, fantasize a new life. A life with you.”

“Arthur-”

“I was gonna ask you to run away with me,” he whispered. “And once I got my share from the robbery, we’d go. Vanish. Start a new life, somewhere, anywhere. I didn’t care where, as long as it was with you.”

“You… you’d leave the gang for me?”

“I’d do anythin’ to be with ya.” He said it so simply, honestly. 

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t find the words to. Instead, you crashed your lips against his, catching him completely off guard. It was like everything slid into place, two puzzle pieces joining together, when you kissed him, your fingers entangling themselves in his hair. Your damp cheeks continued to be wettened by more tears. 

It wasn’t any secret that you were in love with Arthur Morgan. Far from it. You both knew it, having told him yourself. Yet even now, it continued to overwhelm you, even stronger than before, until you felt like you were drowning in it. But you realized you didn’t want to be saved. You wanted to sink deeper, to let the waves close in over your head, to trap you for eternity. You wanted all the air to leave your lungs and to be filled with him, until all you could feel, think, know was him.

Climbing into his lap, you didn’t even remember that your lower body was covered in mud and remnants from the forest, and neither did he. He eagerly reciprocated, a hand pulling you snugly against his waist once you were sitting. Desperation laced his movements, missing you just as deeply as you had missed him.

A hand still gripped the side of your face, and you felt it move into your hairline, making you shiver. He continued back, combing through your tangled hair until he reached the back of your head. When his fingers brushed there, though, you gasped, but because of pain.

He retraced his hand immediately, his brow furrowing as he looked at his fingers. “Are you-”

“They hit me in the back of the head,” you explained. “One of ‘em did it when I walked into the bedroom. But it’s fine.” You tried to reconnect your lips, needing to feel him again, but he turned his head away. 

“You’re still bleedin’.” He turned his fingers to you, and you saw that they were indeed covered in blood. Your blood. “Turn around.”

The tiniest bit disappointed, you complied, turning until your back was to him. You felt his fingers lightly move your hair until he found the source of the bleeding, a curse leaving his lips when he did. “Let’s get this taken care of, darlin’.”

“But-”

“Please.”

You sighed but found yourself unable to oppose his request any longer. He was already on his feet, and you felt him help you up as your legs were still unsteady. Your feet, now covered in dry and flaking mud, clumsily made their way to the stairs, stopping when Arthur placed a hand on your shoulder. You let out a startled noise when he picked you up again, bringing you upstairs quicker than you would’ve by yourself. 

He didn’t set you down until you were in the bathroom, placing you on the tub’s edge. He adjusted your body so that your back was to him again, and you heard him as he began to rustle through some of the cabinets.

“Bandages and gauze are by the sink.” 

Arthur murmured out a thanks, a small victorious noise leaving him when he found them. You heard the sound of running water, most likely filling a small bowl with water, as you heard his moke some more noise as he grabbed a few other things. He was back by your side in seconds, parting your hair like he had done downstairs. You winced when you felt a damp cloth press against the injury, cleaning it. With every noise of pain you made, Arthur was apologizing, and you shook your head each time, being mindful of what he was doing. 

Eventually, you heard the sound of splashing water as Arthur dropped the now-red cloth into the water, reaching for the bandages now. A piece of gauze was placed on the wound, Arthur then instructed you to hold it as he wrapped a bandage around your head, securing it. It went across your forehead, wrapped around twice to be extra tight, and he tied it in the back.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror when you turned around, before Arthur stepped in front of you, blocking your sight. “I look ridiculous,” you scoffed, ignoring the cuts and marks that you’d seen on your face. 

“Rather be ridiculous than bleedin’ out,” he countered, dumping the bowl and refilling it, grabbing a fresh cloth as well. Wordlessly, you watched as he dropped to his knees in front of you, setting the bowl on the tub edge beside you. Rough fingers grabbed your chin, but they were tender as they tilted your head the tiniest amount down. He continued to hold your chin, keeping your head still as he began to wipe at your face, cleaning away the dried blood and dirt. 

His movements were slow, methodical even, and his eyes roamed over your face. He was soaking in every detail, every line and crease and mark, like he was trying to commit them all to memory. Like he couldn’t believe you were sitting there in front of him. 

Like it was the last time he’d ever have the chance to look at you.

You were studying him yourself, taking in every change. His skin was tanner, which you’d already noticed, his cheeks and nose burned pink. But you’d also seen how tired he looked, and now up this close, it was increasingly apparent. 

His eyes were bloodshot, from what you weren’t quite sure. You knew that sunburn could do that to your eyes, but you knew that wasn’t the cause of it. Glancing into his eyes, it even seemed like the vibrant blue hue of them had seemed to dim. Additionally, deep purple circles lined his eyes, like he hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep in weeks. He probably hadn’t, you realized.

“What happened to you, Arthur?” You found yourself asking before you could stop yourself.

“Didn’t think I looked that bad,” he joked, never ceasing with the self-deprecation. “But the last few weeks have been intense, to say the least.” He had moved down to your neck, continuing to clean your body.

You nodded. “I… I heard about Hosea and Lenny. And John gettin’ arrested. I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

You could tell that he was trying to not show how hurt he was by the loss of those two men. One of whom you wouldn’t even qualify as grown. “We managed to get John back a few days ago. Marched right up to the penitentiary gates and demanded his return.”

That statement made you pause. “I’m sorry, you asked them to return him to you. And they complied?”

“It took some mild… persuasion,” he chuckled dryly, now focusing on cleaning your hands. “But essentially, yes.”

“Sisika, right?” He hummed a confirmation, wiping in between the space between your fingers, getting rid of the dried blood there. “How are you not in chains right now? Or dead?”

“I was the better shot.” He meant it as a joke, but there was a cold truth to it. The only reason he was still alive was that he was “a better shot”. But what happened when he found his match? What then?

You didn’t let yourself think too deeply. “You said that was a few days ago, right? Where were you before?” The question wasn’t accusatory; merely curious. And concerned. 

He paused, glancing up at you. “I would’ve come and seen ya sooner, but I-”

“Arthur, it’s okay,” you cut him off. “You came back, right?” He nodded, an inkling of guilt still in his eyes. “Then that’s all that matters.”

He sighed, obviously disagreeing with you, but no longer pressing the matter. “You ever heard of an island called Guarma?”

You shook your head. “Can’t say I have…” You didn’t like what he was implying. 

“Me neither. Not until a few weeks ago. After everything’ went to shit at the bank, we bunkered down in a buildin’ in Saint Denis, waitin’ out the law. When night came, we snuck onto a boat, all of us ‘cept Charles. He created a distraction for us. We had no idea where it was goin’, but anywhere was good, as long as it was far away from Saint Denis. Then a storm came through, sinkin’ the ship, and we washed up on the shore of Guarma, right in the middle of a revolution. It’s a tropical island; Dutch said it was somewhere in the Caribbean.”

“That explains the tan, then.”

“Trust me, if I’ve never gotta see sand again, I’d die happy.” A huff of air left you, a poor excuse of a laugh, and he continued with his story. ”We managed to get a ride back and found the rest of the gang. Sadie and Charles took good care of ‘em while we were gone. Pinkertons ended up ambushin’ us, and so we relocated up north, a place called Beaver Hollow.”

You knew that place. You were always told to steer as far as you could from there, the Murfree Brood a group you didn’t want to end up in the hands of. And a perfect place to evade the law. “That ain’t too far from where I grew up. Nasty place.”

Cold water splashed against your legs, making you jump. “Some of the things I saw there… nasty is one thing to call it.”

“And the gang is there now?”

“What’s left of us,” he muttered, wiping the mud from your lower body.

“Did… did someone else die?”

He shook his head. “A few of ‘em have left. Can’t say I blame ‘em. Things… things ain’t lookin’ good for us. Dutch’s hell-bent on revenge, and Micah is just feedin’ the flames. There’s a rift growing; one side those who still back Dutch, the other those who don’t.”

“And which side are you on, Arthur?”

He stilled, hands falling into his lap. He didn’t look up, a heavy tension in his shoulders, one that had been present since the moment you’d seen him earlier. Deep breaths moved those tense shoulders, a light cough leaving him as he did. Seconds ticked by as Arthur contemplated your words, and you gave him as much time as he needed. 

When he brought his head back up, it was clear that his mind was conflicted, a soft noise leaving you when you saw the intense furrow of his brow. “I don’t know,” he responded, voice breaking slightly. “I… I don’t know.” He sighed heavily. “But you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that, darlin’. I’ll figure it out.”

“No.”

“No?” 

You shook your head. “I’ll worry, whether you tell me or not. So let me help you.”

“You’ve got some much goin’ on already. Don’t let me pile more on.”

“Let me help you,” you repeated, running a hand through his hair. “What’re you thinkin’? What’s goin’ on in that mind of yours?” Distract me from everything that’s happened tonight.

He didn’t respond for a few seconds. “I’m torn. A part of me sees the man that Dutch is now, ruthless and crazed with revenge. A man I had no small part in creatin’… A part of me wonders; would this have all happened if I’d’ve stood up to Dutch earlier? If I had questioned him, instead of followin’ him blindly?”

“Don’t go thinkin’ about the what-ifs. It doesn’t do you any good; it’s all I’ve been doin’ all night. We can’t change the past, but we sure as hell can decide what the future is gonna look like. That is in your own hands. That being said, I know I don’t know Dutch, or the gang for that matter. But I don’t think there was anythin’ you could’ve done to change his fate.”

He didn’t say, but you could tell he agreed with you, at least subconsciously. “Yet even now, I see him, everythin’ he told us not to be… and I still find myself wantin’ to follow him, to obey him. I can’t turn my back on him now, not at the end.”

“You feel like you owe him, don’t you?”

“He saved my life, darlin’. Took me off the street when I was a kid, gave me food, shelter, a place to call home. He taught me to read, write, to shoot, everythin’. I owe everythin’ to him. And how do I repay him? By abandonin’ him when he needs me most?”

“And has he shown you that same respect? Far as I can tell, you’ve done as much for him as he has for you, if not more. You’ve been loyal to him this entire time, have you not? You’ve been by his side through the good and the bad, following his orders even if you maybe felt differently. He saved your life, yes, but that was years ago. What has he done now that has earned him that loyalty?”

You took a breath. “I ain’t askin’ you to make a decision now. And any decision you do make, you’ll have to make it yourself.” No matter how much I want to make it for you. “This is your life. Not mine. Not Dutch’s. Not the gangs. Yours. So when you make your decision, choose the one you think will benefit that the most. Not what you think Dutch wants you to do. Not what you think I want you to do. Choose for yourself.”

Arthur remained silent, and deep down you could see that there was one other issue bothering him. Something even more significant than his fate with the gang, but what it was you had no idea. On now clean feet, you stood slowly, pulling Arthur up with you. Wrapping your arms around him, you rested your head on his chest, tilting your head back so you could continue to look at him. Oh, how you had missed him.

“Let’s get you outta those clothes…” he murmured after passing over a splotch of mud on your dress as he dragged his hands up your body. 

Leading you to your bedroom, you saw that the things that had been dropped from your arms were on the bed. For a moment, you’d chose to not remember the events that had transpired earlier, but seeing those items forced them to the front of your mind. Your breath caught, and the hand holding Arthur’s tightened, making him slow down. “You alright, darlin’?”

“Sorry, I just forgot…”

He caught your meaning, thumb running over your hand soothingly, and you let him lead you in. There, he turned you until your back was once again to him, but instead of immediately moving to get your clothing off, you felt his hands wrapped around your front. He tugged you to his chest, a content sigh leaving him at the contact, his head ducking down to lay on your shoulder. 

Arthur held you for some time, reacquainting himself with how you felt in his arms. No words were exchanged; his actions said plenty. Occasionally, you’d feel his head turn and press a kiss to your neck, his stubble tickling you lightly. His hands roamed up and down your torso, never demanding, just feeling. 

All of these worked to distract your mind, even eliciting a small laugh from you when his lips brushed your neck. For a moment, nothing existed outside of this room. No family matters, no gang issues, nothing; it was just you and Arthur.

Finally, you felt him begin to tug off your dress, working through the various ribbons and latches in the back. It hit the floor with an audible noise, mud and water having made it heavier. He spun you around, eyes trailing over your newly exposed figure, the tiniest amount of lust flaring in his eyes. But he didn’t let himself touch, merely clearing his throat and stepping back to the closet. 

You nearly followed him, craving to feel his hands on your body again, but you refrained. You remembered you didn’t have nearly as much time alone as you’d like, needing to get to your house with Sadie. With his warm body no longer pressed against yours, you were shivering, your hands rubbing at your exposed arms. Goosebumps covered your body, and you heard the sound of rustling and light coughing as Arthur searched for something for you to wear. 

As you waited, you couldn’t help but think about Arthur’s words, more specifically what he confessed to you downstairs. Never did you think that he’d leave the Van Der Linde gang, let alone for you. You hoped, of course, but you never expected your far-fetched fantasies to be so close to reality.

But now there was a seed of hope that he’d planted inside of you. Hope for a future far away from the control of others. For a future that you would get to choose. 

A future with Arthur. 

The mere idea of that future made you giddy, and despite yourself, you found a smile growing. It was small yet powerful, just like the hope you felt. 

Arthur stepped back into the room, in his arms the blue dress you wore when you met Arthur properly in Rhodes. Despite his tiredness, he had a playful glint in his eyes, clearly remembering the dress as well. You only connected now, though, that it was the same color as the shirt he had worn when he had broken in. It seemed your subconscious had latched on to him quicker than you’d known. 

It made your smile grow wider, and he shot you a curious glance as he began to help you into the garment. “What’re you smilin’ ‘bout?” He teased.

“Just thinkin’. About you,” you added.

He chuckled quietly. “All good things, I hope.”

“Only the best.” 

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips, and you felt him zip up your dress.

“Although,” you continued, now feeling a bit nervous. How am I gonna ask him this? “I’ve… I’ve got a question.” You hated how uncertain you sounded. 

“You know you don’t gotta get my permission to ask me anythin’.

“I know, it’s just…” you sighed. “Do you still want… that?”

“That?” 

“What you told me downstairs. About running away with me.” You took a deep breath, scared of what his answer was going to be. “Do you still want that?” As much as I want it?

“More than anything,” he responded quickly, earnestly. Yet he trailed off at the end, an unspoked but, and you felt your stomach drop.

“But you can’t,” you whispered, finishing his sentence for him.

You could feel the guilt radiating from him as he nodded in agreement, his head ducking slightly. “I’ve gotta get ‘em out, darlin’. Tilly, Abigail, Jack, John. All of ‘em. They… they’ve got futures. They can’t stay ‘round anymore.

You hated how selfless he was some days, this day being one of them. “And what about you?” You countered, and his head dipped even lower, practically resting against yours now. “What about your future? Once they’re out, you… you can decide what you wanna do next. You’ll be able to do that. You’re talkin’ like that ain’t gonna be an option.”

You’re not sure what was more alarming: his silence or the tears you felt. Anxiety wormed its way into your mind, and you could feel your heart begin to hammer in your chest, your stomach churning nervously. “Arthur, what’s goin’ on?” You asked hesitantly. 

Silence.

All you could hear was your breathing and your rapid heartbeat. “Arthur?” You tried to sound not panicked, but your voice cracked a bit. “Please, talk to me.”

You’re not sure if you actually wanted him to tell you at this point, but the silence was becoming unbearable. Maybe you were just worrying yourself? Maybe what he was about to say wouldn’t be as bad as you thought?

Arthur raised his head, a shaky hand coming to rest on your cheek. Were his fingers always this cold? You couldn’t remember. “I’m sick.”

You didn’t process the implications of his words. You couldn’t. “W-What do you mean?” You tried to ignore the dread you felt creeping into the back of your mind.

“Darlin’-”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. This wasn’t happening. You refused to believe it was. This was all some cruel joke, right? You’d take that a million times over. “You… you can’t be sick.” The lie tasted bitter on your tongue. God, you should’ve connected the dots earlier. His bloodshot eyes, sickly skin, his immeasurable exhaustion, the coughing. How could you be so oblivious? 

Two hands now held each side of your face, keeping your attention on Arthur. “Please, no.”

“I’m so sorry-

“No!” You tore away from him, staggering back a few steps. Your hands tangled into your hair, pulling and tugging, unsure of how to outlet this growing despair. You paced, tears pouring freely down your cheeks. Words of denial tumbled from your lips, rising in volume. “No, you don’t get to do that!” You weren’t sure if you were talking to Arthur, the universe, or yourself. 

“You…” you gasped for air. You don’t get to come into my life and then leave it. You don’t get to make me fall in love, and then tear it away from me. You don’t get to ruin my life. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to scream or cry, to lash out, or keep it all contained.“You…” Your anger turned into a simmer when you saw Arthurs standing there, looking as lost as you felt, conflicted on whether to comfort you or let you let it all out. 

Shame snapped you out of your anger, at least temporarily. Here he was, sick, when he needed your comfort, and you were acting like this? His tears earlier in the night made sense now; how long had he been waiting to tell you? Was he ever going to tell you?

Slowly, cautiously, you returned to where you’d been standing moments prior. Sniffing, you could barely see through the tears in your eyes, and it felt like you were forcing your body to comply. You rested your hand above his heart, and beneath his ragged breaths, you could feel his heartbeat, strong as ever. There was no way he could be…

You couldn’t finish the thought. 

Arthur pulled away suddenly, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket before coughing heavily into it. You realized he’d been holding back his previous coughs, this one wracking his whole body, a pained noise leaving him once he was done. You managed to catch a glimpse of the handkerchief before he tucked it into his pocket, but you almost wish you didn’t when you saw the splattering of crimson on the once-white material. 

Oh. 

Oh, God. 

A choked sob left you, the hand on his chest curling into a fist. “We… we can take you to a doctor, a sanitorium, something. Anything. You’ll get better, and-”

“It’s too late for that, it… it’s just a matter of time, now.”

“Says who? You… we can still try!” You tried to argue, tried to fight this whole situation like anything could be changed. Have you already given up? The question danced on the tip of your tongue, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to ask it, not wanting to know the answer. 

He sighed, a mix of defeat and sympathy, and you hated it. You felt him stroke the side of your face, gently, reverently, but his words were anything but. “Darlin’, I’m dyin’.”

Your body went numb, like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over you. The hand on his chest went lax, falling limply to your side. Your ears were ringing so bad that it hurt, and your short and shallow breaths made you dizzy. Again, you felt yourself stumble back, but this time Arthur didn’t let you go far. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. He was murmuring something, but you couldn’t hear it. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to sob anymore. Tears just ran in streams down your face, sharp gasps leaving you occasionally, but you lacked the energy to do anything else. It was like all your muscles ceased to work any longer, the numbness of shock rendering them so. 

In your mind, his words just played on repeat, like a broken record. He was dying. He’d be dead. When, you had no idea, but if the state of him currently was anything to go by, then you knew he didn’t have long. 

And just when a future with him had been so obtainable, now that Hans was… out of the picture. Everything you’d imagined, every fantasy came crumbling down around you. Never had you thought about a life without Arthur, but now presented with that idea it was all you could think about. The grief. The dread. The loneliness. 

You were going to be alone again. 

Arthur was going to be dead. 

It would be slow, painful.

He’d be gone so soon.

Your mind flicked back and forth between thoughts like a metronome, yet everything felt quiet. Pressed against his chest, you could feel it move as he talked, lips pressed against the top of your head. When you didn’t respond or acknowledge his words, he tilted your head back, forcing you to look at him. 

You wanted to tear your gaze away, finding it too painful to look at him, yet you kept it on him. The whine in your ears dimmed to a quiet noise, and you were able to start hearing him. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. I didn’t wanna tell ya like this.”

“Then when were you goin’ to?” You heard the words leave your mouth, the words slightly slurred. Or were you never gonna tell me, and then leave me to discover that you’d died in a few weeks?

“I don’t know,” he sighed, completely honest. “When I came over today, I was just expectin’ to visit ya and tell ya, not… everythin’ else. Sadie tagged along, ‘cause, well…” he trailed off, unsure of what he was about to say. “She wanted to make sure I made it back alright.”

So it’s that bad. 

You only hummed in response, not knowing what to say. What could you say?

Arthur was also quiet for a few moments. “But I ain’t dead yet,” he muttered. “We’ve still got some time.” His next words were barely audible like he couldn’t even bring himself to say them. “Please don’t go far.”

You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. No matter how much it hurt, you were going to be by his side. You loved him too much. “I won’t leave, Arthur,” you promised, your heart breaking further at the fact that he thought you might. “Is it truly somethin’ you can’t beat?” Are you sure you won’t survive this?

He paused for a second. “I can’t say for certain,” he admitted, “but I don’t want you to get your hopes up, darlin’. It ain’t lookin’ good.”

It took all your might to nod, to bring yourself to process his words. It was futile to try and stop your tears, but you tired anyway. You took a deep breath, focusing on his prior words. You still had some time left. 

All it did was make the ache in your heart worse.

Arthur continued to hold you, a hint of desperation in his grasp, like he was afraid you’d go back on your promise and leave. It was when you secured your arms around him that he finally seemed to believe you, the lightest noise leaving him. Seconds turned into minutes as you held each other, neither knowing what to say. You were grateful for the silence, though, as it didn’t carry information that ruined you. 

Arthur was the first to make a noise, clearing his throat as gently as he could. It still made you jump, and you took a step back, at least as far as you could with his arms still around you. Glancing up at him, his face was red and puffy, like yours, with the remnants of tears still on his face. 

“We should probably leave.” Arthur sounded as eager as you felt. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to leave. Leaving meant that things would continue to progress, to change. But you nodded anyway, letting him take you by the hand with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

You let him lead you out of the room, past Hans’ office, and down the stairs. You let him lead you to the front entrance, and it was when you were putting on your shoes that you saw the upturned rug in the living room, the basement hatch sitting out in the open. A thought flashed in your mind, making you halt. “What about-”

“I’ll make sure someone takes care of it. You don’t gotta be there for that.”

Forcing down guilt, you nodded, and he led you outside. The sight of Bear approaching was a welcome one, and despite everything, you managed a light chuckle. “Hey there, Bear,” you whispered, rubbing his snout when he met you at the bottom of the stairs. “You’ve been takin’ care of Arthur?”

He snorted in response, his head bumping against your hand. “Of course you have. I’ve missed you, buddy.”

Bear was still as Arthur helped you onto his rear, sliding into the saddle after. You didn’t bother to look at the house as you rode away, keeping your head pressed against Arthur’s back, your arms wrapped around his body. You rode away from all you’d known for the last two years; the secret gardens, the stifling room, the secrets and lies and uncertainty.

When you’d looked to the futured, you’d hope to leave this place with a purpose, a certainty in life. And here Arthur was in your arms, just like you wanted, like you imagined. Yet you felt no joy, only a deep sadness that dug into every fiber of your being. The early morning rays warmed your body, but you couldn’t feel it. All you could feel was cold dread.

Was this truly the end?

[kit-kat-katie]

Matching Wounds

A/N: Apologies for the break. College has been kicking my ass as of late. Also, I'm a bit worried that this is OOC, but it's something, and it's done, so I'm posting it. 😌

TW: Themes of loss and mutual understanding of loss, death, a bit of a gory death, trauma from precious Hunger Game

Pairing: Johanna Mason x Reader (platonic/romantic)

Summary: Losing your mentor forces you further into the jungle during the 75th Hunger Games. You find yourself in the company of Johanna, who is familiar with love and loss, just like you.

The cannon.

Your worst nightmare, signaling the death of someone you cared about, or your savior when you look at the sky and realize the careers are dead.

You thought you were free of the cannons when you won the Hunger Games for the first time. With the announcement of the 75th Hunger Games and Third Quarter Quell, you know what must be done and what demons you have to face, both in the arena and in your mind.

You're going in with Cass - your mentor, the person who taught you enough to keep you alive in the games and outside of them as well. You knew that one of you had to go, but you thought you'd have more time.

It went too fast.

The bloodbath at the Cornucopia was something you both managed to escape, and you grabbed a few supplies while you cautiously watched some of the people you had befriended be murdered or become murderers once again.

You weren't supposed to look back - neither of you were.

Cass wanted to watch your back and make sure that you'd both make it to the forestry. At least, that was the plan.

You turned around to ask them where to go, only to see a spear through your mentor's heart.

You scream and cried, but you couldn't stay to give them a proper goodbye. You had to keep moving - this was the Hunger Games, and you wouldn't let them die in vain.

The various screams of other tributes were dull on your ears as you scrambled through the forestry during the night. The arena seemed to be dead set on killing all of you without any bloodshed between tributes. As soon as you heard screams or something move, you were moving onto another part of the arena.

The only thing you couldn't avoid, sometime during the night, was the blood rain. It was choking, all-consuming, and another reminder of the fact that your mentor was dead.

You stumbled around in the dark, covered in blood and regretful, waiting for a miracle. Whether that miracle was a swift death or an end to the blood rain - it didn't matter, you were sick of this.

You paused when you heard something, or rather, someone crash against the forcefield nearby. Realizing your proximity to the forcefully, you back off before cautiously walking forward.

You peek ahead from the shelter of a tree, one that shields you from the rain, and you see one hell of a sight in front of you.

Johanna, Beetee, and Wiress all standing over the body of a now-dead, or soon-to-be-dead, Blight.

"Shit." Johanna mumbles before throwing her axe to the side. "Blight, get up."

"He's not-"

"Don't say that." Johanna snaps at Beetee before going to sit next to Blight. "Blight, please-"

The cannon goes off, and she sighs before backing off.

"We need to move, the rain will stop soon, and walking next to a forcefield isn't a good idea right now." Johanna's remorseful look at Blight for a moment before wiping a bit of blood off of her face.

"Tik tok." Wiress nods in agreement as Johanna picks up her axe.

"I can't- Not now-"

Johanna waves off Wiress for a moment before walking away. Beetee gestures Wiress to follow before following closely behind.

You trail them for a while as the blood rain stops. There's not much chatter - what could you even say in a moment like that - until your foot finds a twig to snap beneath you.

Your breath stills, and you hide behind a tree as you hear Johanna walk toward your location.

You find your knife at your side, and you reveal yourself to Johanna by tossing your knife down and placing your hands up in the air.

Johanna looks surprised for a moment before putting her axe at her side.

"Thought Cass would be with you."

You bite your lip before putting your head down.

"Cass-"

"-died? Yeah, you're not the only one." She scoffs for a moment before rolling her shoulders back. "So much for teamwork."

"I saw the aftermath of what happened to Blight-"

"It's fine." She looks down at your knife. "Pick it up and keep up with me. I walk fast, but if you're slow, you'll be stuck talking to Nuts and Volts all night." She mutters the last part before walking towards Beetee and Wiress, who have been gawking at the two of you.

"They're not that bad, Johanna-"

"-You babysit them for twelve hours and tell me how you feel then." She coldly says before walking away from the forcefield.

You keep up with Johanna, and Wiress and Beetee trail slightly behind the two of you. After you had greeted them, Beetee had talked to Wiress, who had only responded with the same phrase again and again.

"I'm- I'm sorry about Cass." Johanna mumbles after a while of silence between the two of you.

"Why would you be sorry? You didn't kill them."

"They're someone you care about, and I care about you." Johanna softly says to you.

She was one of your first Victor friends, rough around the edges and hard to please, but someone that you found common ground with. You had visited her district, as she had yours, and you'd see each other every year as mentors or at parties, but you never thought you meant that much to her. You were acquaintances, sure, but was something more there?

"Blight was from home, so I understand how you feel." You gently place a hand on her shoulder. "They weren't our families, but they were a small bit of home, the last glimpse of a place we'll never see again."

"Don't get preachy on me." Johanna gives you a knowing look as you let go of her shoulder. "Maybe we're all not so different, after all."

"That sounds awful like being preachy, coming from someone who just told me not to be preachy." You smile and joke with her before you all decide to stop for the night.

As you take first watch, you wonder if Johanna's right.

We're all not so different, after all.

[niragis-thot]

Niragi’s Favorite Toy

Part 6

Niragi X female reader

Warnings in this chapter: non-con and dubious consent, knife play, smut, public sex

A/N: I was worried this one might be a bit too over the top, but why not put half my favorite Niragi fantasies in one chapter

Part 1 [x]

Part 2 [x] 🌶️

Part 3 [x]

Part 4 [x]

Part 5 [x] 🌶️

Masterlist [x]

Today had been the the first chance you really had to explore the Beach on your own. You realized it was the also the first time since arriving in the Borderlands that you were able to think about your life outside of your immediate survival.

Only now could you realize just how much of your old life you had been grieving the loss of. The old you may as well have been a different person, your loved ones, and hobbies were completely gone. The places in the city that you loved were crumbling. But you felt alive again when you realized that you could get one thing from your old life back here. You could still loose yourself on the dance floor.

You started off your day with a glass of wine from the bar. Although you could technically drink as much as you want here, you didn’t want to risk a hangover when you were likely to be thrown back in the games tomorrow. It was becoming apparent that the Militant Corps didn’t wait for visas to expire to play again.

The party was already in full swing when you got on the floor. At first it felt a little awkward just because of how long it had been since you had the chance to dance, but before you knew it you were moving your hips to the best of the music and enjoying yourself.

After a few songs you noticed that Niragi was watching you as he passed by with his crowd of lackeys in tow. You looked over your shoulder and winked at him coyly.

No one really danced with you weren’t sure if the drugs and alcohol had everyone in their own world, or if they were avoiding you because they had seen you with him.

After a while you decided to go check out the pool. Swimming with your arm injury was out of the question. But you could soak away all the aches in the aches from the previous games in the hot tub.

“Are you new here, I haven’t seen you around before.”

You turned, pleasantly surprised that someone was actually talking to you. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I actually got here a couple days ago, what about you ?”

“A little over a week for me. It’s a little crazy here but you’ll never be bored.”

Just then you saw Niragi headed your way. His rifle no longer on his shoulder. “You got a death wish or something,” he said while aiming at the man you had just met. The man was now looking around frantically to try and find out what he had done to upset the Militant.

“Sitting that close to my property, what were you trying to do with her.”

“Niragi, he didn’t do anything, he was just being polite,” you protested.

“Come with me,” he ordered you to get out of the water.

Niragi pulled you into a supply closet. You tried to collect your thoughts. Were you supposed to swear you’d never want anyone else? How could you be expected to feel that way after only a few days, and you had the feeling if you /were/ acting like you wanted to be with him forever after just meeting him he’d find that kind of pathetic.

“What were you thinking?” He grabbed both of your arms and pressed you against the wall.

“That I was talking to the people I’d just met, like a normal person would.”

“Like you were just talking to me when we first met.”

“No, not like that. I wasn’t flirting with him.” The venomous look in his eyes made you flinch. Something had shifted. Last night he was just having fun, but now he was angry.

He chuckled, amused by your discomfort, “you’re scared.”

You turned you head to the side to avoid that stare he was giving you. Immediately you felt your face sting from Niragi slapping you. “Don’t look away when I’m talking to you.”

“You’re not being fair. How can you be mad when you never even told me not to talk to certain people.”

“What isn’t clear about it. As soon as you agreed to come here you belonged to me.”

“Just talking to other people doesn’t change that.” You were afraid of how he would react if you spoke up, but you were afraid of having every bit of freedom taken away from you if you didn’t.

He released your arms and went to sit down on a supply box in the corner, “come over here.” As you approached he gestured for you to lay on his lap.

“So you want to be able to go to the parties? You’ll have to earn that.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Stay still.” He brushed your hair aside and ran his fingers along the skin on your back, “I’m going to mark you so that everyone will know who you belong to.” You tried not to flinch as you felt a cold metal blade being pressed to your back. “If you want to go out and socialize you’ll have to wear your hair so this is visible.”

You felt the first cut on your back. The stinging feeling wore off quickly followed by the feeling of skin pulling apart. You tried not to show any reaction, knowing that it would just push him further. You bit your lip, but couldn’t stop a whimper from escaping as he continued to make tiny cuts. He stopped for a moment and caressed the

back of your head, “Good girl. You’re almost done.”

The lack of anger in his voice almost made you relax. The worry that he might try to end you right here and now faded, but the pain returned for a short while. You breathed heavily to get through it. Finally he stopped and admired his handiwork. The stinging pain soon became replaced with a warm wet feeling. Now that the fear was gone you remembered that you were supposed to be using this day to recover to prepare to return to the games. So much for that.

Niragi placed the tip of a finger at your lips, and pressed his way into your mouth. Sucked on it to try and keep in a good mood despite it having the metallic taste of your own blood.

He pulled you up and placed you on his lap so that he could kiss you and lick the blood from your lips. The pain he had inflicted seemed to satiate him for now. He squeezed at your shoulder though indicating the moment was over. As you both left the closet he said to meet you at the annex at the end of his patrol shift, and walked away.

And there you were, alone and trying to process everything. The way he had left so abruptly hurt worse than your wounds did. People were moving about the hotel around you, but the halls may as well have been empty.

You thought of the sweaty dance floor and how your back couldn’t have been clean while you made those cuts. You didn’t want to go to the infirmary to see An. There would be no way to explain away what had happened, and snitching to one of his coworkers seemed like an easy way to make things worse. Especially when Hatter seemingly had no issue with Niragi’s reign of terror so long as it remained aimed at the people he had deemed traitors.

You decided to just take a shower and dress your wounds yourself. As soon as the pressure was removed from the scratches on your upper arm the pain returned. You looked at your back in the mirror as the water heated up to see what he had carved into your skin, it was 韮木. He had made sure that no matter what happened or where you went, you would always carry his name with you.

You tried to rationalize while the hot water ran over you. You had encouraged him to be rough last night and enjoyed it, maybe things just got taken a little too far. At least that was easier to think about than your body being permanently altered without your consent.

And if you were starting to have second thoughts now, this had confirmed what you already suspected; If things got to be too much and you wanted out there would be no way to leave.

♠️♥️♣️♦️

Niragi looked back on the events of the day as he patrolled near the annex. He hadn’t exactly intended to get mad at you. It was just that seeing another man talking to you, having the audacity to get that close to his property, made him know that if he hadn’t ended that right there he would have blown the man’s brains out right then and there. While he was used to getting away with just about any of violent acts at the Beach, Hatter probably would be upset if there were brains floating in the hot tub that he wanted his guests to enjoy.

And once he had you pinned up against the wall your fear was just so delicious that he couldn’t help himself. Seeing you confident and deadly in the games, but trembling and broken beneath him was turning him on so much he had to stop thinking about it to avoid becoming aroused in public.

You had been willing to do so many things to please him. Now that he had found that boundary that inspired genuine fear, he wasn’t sure if he could keep himself from crossing it again.

As he walked he noticed Last Boss on patrol. “Hey.”

The tattooed man stopped and looked back at him.

“I had something I just wanted to run by you. Y/K is really pushing for me to give her a weapon, and I’m just not sure I’m ready for her to have that much control yet.”

Last Boss raised an eyebrow at Niragi.

“I like that she’s strong, I like that she can handle herself in the games, but I also like having her under my control.” He glanced over at his friend. “What if she gets a weapon and everything changes.”

Last Boss glanced at him, but Niragi continued rambling.

“But if I could make her powerful at the Beach, and still have her submitting to me, that would be worth it.”

He turned to his friend, “what do you think”

“I don’t want anyone on Aguni’s team who needs to be defended. I already did that favor for you once.”

“Maybe I’ll let her have it just for the game. I think that’s fair”

Last Boss gave him a sideways glance.

“Anyways, thanks for helping me out with this. You’re the best.”

“If I didn’t like you, I’d cut your head off for being annoying” Last Boss said as he walked away.

♠️♥️♣️♦️

You wandered the Beach looking for something to pass the time, and eventually found an entrance to a little courtyard with a garden growing. There were red rose bushes lining the wall, and some fruit and vegetable plants. As you walked through the rows you nearly ran into Mira who was watering the plants.

“Oh, I’m sorry. “ you jumped back “is this your garden”

Mira giggled. “It’s one of the ones I’ve started in this world.”

“I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but why start a garden here if you might die before it grows?”

“By that logic why do anything? We’re all going to die someday whether it happens in a game or not. That isn’t going to stop me from enjoying what I’m doing right now.”

“I wish I could do that. On game days I can’t focus on anything else.”

“Yet you performed well enough in them to get into the militants?”

“I mean, if I had gone into that game looking like I was scared to be there I probably would have been the first one sacrificed.”

Mira’s face lit up with the mention of the game, and something about her smile unnerved you. “Ah yes, I was hoping we’d get a chance to discuss the hearts game. What I love about the hearts games is their psychological nature. It’s not just how the game manipulates you, but how you can understand your fellow players reactions and manipulate them to survive.” She tilted her head as if to show she was thinking. “How interesting. If your fake bravado was what got convinced them to team up with you in the game, then you must be feeling like you can never let the act up.”

As Mira’s gaze seemed to pierce your soul, you recounted the events of the game, trying to downplay any mention of Niragi as you still weren’t really comfortable talking about whatever it was the two of you had going on to the other executives.

♠️♥️♣️♦️

When you met up with Niragi later he acted as if nothing had happened earlier. You had hoped he would apologize for snapping on you, and you had worried he would still be angry. The complete nonchalance caught you off guard and made you wonder if you had overreacted.

But as he grinned slyly down at you, you wanted everything to be alright. And when he told you that he was taking you to see Aguni you threw your arms around him. At first he tensed up under your touch, but eventually relaxed into it. “Does this mean I’m getting a gun?”

He lifted your chin up to look into his eye, “Aguni decides who gets a weapon, but… as his right hand man I may have worked something out for you.”

You followed him eagerly past the other Militants guarding this section of the resort.

“So, you want to join the Militant Corps.” Aguni said as you entered the weapons storehouse.” He didn’t wait for you to respond before continuing on, “there will be high expectations for you here. You’ll be expected to protect our interests at the Beach, to collect cards, and be loyal to me above anyone else.”

“I understand,” you said despite knowing that if there was one thing you could count on in this world, it was having no idea what would happen next.

Niragi approached you holding a gun that you had seen some of the other militants carrying. “We’ll be able to get in some good target practice today.”

You followed him, and waited for him to hand you the gun, but he kept it on him as he led you behind the resort and to the Militant’s target practice area.

When he did finally hand it to you, you gave him a kiss and said, “Thank you.” Hoping to show your appreciation. He flinched a little, once again his aversion to you showing him affection caught you off guard after the times he had ferociously fucked you in the past couple of days. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No” He shook his head. “I guess I’m just not used to having anyone being that gentle, anyways…” He gestured at the targets “time to show me what you’ve got.”

You took the safety off and got the target in your sites, you hit it on one of the outer rings.

“Not terrible.”

You focused and took a moment before your next shot, wanting to impress him.

Niragi laughed, “Aim faster, I feel like I’m watching old people fuck.”

“I’m so touched by your kind words of encouragement.”

“You should know by now I’m not going to sugarcoat anything for you.”

“Niragi, I promise that if you’re ever acting super nice to me I’ll take you to Ann to make sure you’re not having a stroke.” You turned back and fired at the target hitting it dead center. “See I’m getting better.”

“When we’re in a game, No one is going to stand there waiting for you to shoot them. You need this to become second nature.”

“Maybe once you get the hang of this one I’ll get out the sniper rifle for you to try.” He placed a hand on your shoulder. It made you involuntarily flinch as you remembered everything that had happened earlier.

Niragi noticed your reaction and wrapped his arms around you. It felt strange. He was the one who made you flinch, but he also was the one comforting you. You leaned back into him and rested your head against his shoulder as he caressed you.

“Everything is alright now, I’m here.”

♠️♥️♣️♦️

The next evening you were on your way back to the games. There were a lot of players that day so several Beach members were in your group. A carnival with brightly colored rides came into view.

You looked up at Niragi and could tell he was excited for the game. Somehow it felt like his mood was contagious, and you could go into a game for the first time without feeling dread.

“What’s your favorite ride?” He asked.

“I usually like roller coasters or swinging rides.”

“Then I promise we’ll ride one before the electricity goes off. Deal.”

“Deal, we might never get a chance like this again,” You agreed although a little unsure if the logistics of the game would allow it.

“And just so you know, if you had said carousel I might have dumped you on the spot.”

You picked up your phones and waited for the game to start. The difficulty announced: Six of Spades - Jungle Beast Hunter. You would need to hunt each animal in the carnival to clear the game.

“We’ll set up shop up high to cover you.” Niragi told Aguni and Last Boss as he strode over to the pirate ship ride. You could hear people in the distance begin to panic as the beasts came out.

As you climbed up into the ship Niragi yelled down at Last Boss, “start up the ride.”

Last Boss glanced up at him, “really?”

“I’ll bet I can still kill more of them than you. Loser has to be Hatter’s bodyguard tomorrow.”

The ride started and you sat back to back with Niragi to each see half of the carnival. With how high up you were the eagles were the first to come after you. Niragi immediately took one down and started to holler. “Woo-hoo! That was too easy.” He yelled down at last Boss “try to keep up.”

You felt your competitive side kicking in, but it really wasn’t as easy as Niragi made it seem to aim on the swinging ship. You fired one shot and missed. Determined to get the next one you relaxed and tried to stop overthinking it. You fired the gun and immediate heard the point counter go up.

“Did you see that I got one!”

“Good job, but I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten three by now.”

Last Boss yelled back “The lion was mine.”

“Hey I wounded it first.”

While they were arguing you saw some people running from a boar. You took aim again, but the stakes felt higher this time. If you missed you might hit someone. Niragi noticed you tense up and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Relax baby girl. Just pull the trigger.” He spoke into your ear. You let out your breath and fired.

The boar went down.

You looked back at Niragi feeling proud of yourself, and you saw his eyes tracing down your body before coming back up to meet yours. You felt your skin tingling as he leaned in to kiss you. Was your stomach dropping from the falling of the pirate ship or the kiss? You couldn’t tell.

Then you snapped back to reality as hears one of the other Militants gun fire. “We can’t be doing this right now.”

“Relax sweetheart. We’ll still clear the game.” He leaned into you and spoke into your ear, “I want to see how well I can aim with you going down on me.”

“Right now? During a game?”

“No one will be able to see what you’re doing up here.” He reassured you, as if your main concern wasn’t getting a laser to your head when the timer ran out. “You belong to me, remember that sweetheart.”

You nodded, the implication was clear: Niragi got what he wanted, when he wanted it. You carefully held onto the railing as you lowered yourself down, trying not to be thrown off your balance by the rocking of the ship. Once you were between his legs you unzipped his pants and took his cock in your mouth, feeling it grow as you licked around the tip.

He gave you a pat on the head before returning his focus to the game. You heard him fire before laughing.

“Fifth one.” You heard Last Boss yell.

Niragi yelled back. “Do you think this game really is a six? The guns make it too easy.”

By now you were bobbing up and down on Niragi’s cock, feeling it hit the back of your throat, sucking and licking it as you went along.

Despite him mostly keeping his composure, you felt him thrust upwards a little bit when what you were doing was really driving him crazy. You took him all the way in, feeling the pressure as your throat squeezed around him, determined to make him finish before the game ended. Finally you moved up and down more and more quickly as you felt him twitch and spill into you.

Looking up you saw him close his eyes for a moment and let out a silent gasp. You smiled as you swallowed and began to zip up his pants.

Back on the seat of the ride the ship slowly swung to a halt. You saw Aguni and Last Boss take down a tiger together, and then the “Game Clear” notification rang out.

While Aguni claimed the card, and picked up the newly printed visas, Niragi was harassing the players not from the Beach.

“You all would be dead right now if we hadn’t shown up to this game.” He raised his rifle. “I think you owe us something for that.”

Slowly the other players began to raise their hands.

“You’re going to hand over every card you’ve gotten from these games.”

♠️♥️♣️♦️

Back at the Beach you were celebrating the victory with your fellow Militants. After a few drinks Niragi pulled you over to seat that was off to the side of the ballroom, having you sit in his lap facing him.

“I think I owe you something,” He said into your ear. Although over the sound of blasting music and people on the dance floor you could barely hear.

He started off nibbling at your neck, gripping your hair roughly to hold you in place. Then his other hand, which had been caressing your breasts moved lower. He paused just as his fingertips reached under the fabric of your bikini, teasing you.

You looked around. The crowd was so thick that you knew most people wouldn’t see what you were up to. Your lover looked into your eyes, waiting for you.

“Please Niragi”

And with that his hand slid all the way under your bikini, and began to thumb little circles on your clit. You felt the heat rising between your legs. As the feeling grew you began to grind against his thigh.

He grabbed your hips tightly and pulled you in closer to him, while he started to move his fingers faster. You bit your lip, trying not to whimper and draw attention to yourself.

Then you felt two fingers slide through your folds. “You get wet so quickly for me.” You realized that it fed his ego, knowing how much of an effect he had on your body. He returned his fingers to your clit, applying more pressure now that they were slick with your juices.

You clung to him, trying not to let your body tremble. He applied the pressure so steadily. It kept you hovering just above the edge. He would make you beg. “Please Niragi.”

“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific Princess?”

“Please make me cum.” You tried to turn your head as you wondered if anyone around heard you.

Niragi grabbed your jaw as you did, “eyes down here.” He said as he began to rub harder against your clit. You looked into his eyes as you lost control, and could see him grin when he noticed the cascades of pleasure washing over you.

♠️♥️♣️♦️

You followed Niragi later that night, tipsy enough to not really question why you weren’t heading straight back to your room. it wasn’t until you reached the armory that you paused and began to back up.

“No, we’re not doing this again.” With every step backwards you took he moved forwards, not giving you an inch of space.

“And what exactly am I doing?”

“You took my gun after the last game too. You can’t keep doing that.”

He lifted your chin up as he leaned over you, “I can do anything that I want to sweetheart. I’m second in command in the Militants, and you’re nothing.”

A click sounded as you took the safety off your gun and raised it. “I won’t let you leave me defenseless again.” You spoke quietly, aware that the other Militants you had just passed were around the corner. You weren’t sure which situation would play out worse, the Militants seeing you had a gun pointed at one of their leaders, or Niragi feeling that you had embarrassed him in front of his men. Your heart pounded as you watched the hand that held his rifle against his shoulder, waiting for him to aim at you.

“Are you trying to leave me?”

“I’m not leaving you Niragi, but if you try to take my gun away again I will.” You saw him begin to move his rifle. “Go ahead, shoot me, and then you’ll have me trapped with you.”

He huffed angrily and walked past you, then turned and grabbed your wrist, dragging you along after him. You tried to maintain your composure as you passed the Militants on the late night patrols in the annex, even though your joints felt strained, and it seemed like your might snap at any moment.

You whimpered as he pulled you forward suddenly once you were alone in the resort halls. Niragi responded by getting in your face, “What do you have to complain about. Didn’t I just give you exactly what you asked for.”

You nodded, “Thank you Niragi. I appreciate it, you’re just hurting me.”

“Then think before you make demands next time.”

He didn’t lessen his grip until you were back in the room. When you followed him into bed you tried to place a hand on his chest. To reassure that you were staying, to show you appreciated him listening to you. But he only rolled over wordlessly to face away from you.

The stinging pain on your back, and the throbbing in your wrist only intensified as you attempted to sleep.

[aurorafables]

From the Grey, Chapter 1.

Let's get is started. :) I'm very excited, and I hope you will like it bc I loved to write it.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Nicholas Ruffilo

Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Angst, Past character death, Suicidal thoughts

Tags: M/M, Slow burn, Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Family drama, Band fic

Word Count: 4.2k

Cross-posted: AO3

Author's note: This was originally written in Hungarian, and I'm still looking for a proofreader, so please forgive me the mistakes, strange expressions. Hope it's still enjoyable. Let me know, what do you think. :) Also let me know if you want to be tagged in the upcoming parts :)

Summary: In Noah's life, his best friend was the light, the way out of the abuse he suffered at home. After a childhood full of trauma, in which he was stripped of his wings so many times, he moves in with Nick, whose goal is to let him fly. The band, Bad Omens, led by Noah, begins to soar, which brings at least as many problems as joy. As teenagers grow into men, Noah and Nick drift closer and closer to each other, and the boundaries of friendship and love completely merge.

Chapter 1.

It would be difficult to say exactly when it started. It was as if the dynamic between the two of us had completely changed without being noticed. I could compare it to when I'm doing a tattoo and I want to create a nice color gradient to make the design look as realistic as possible. The point is that you can't tell where one color ends and the other color begins. Even between us, the transition from wanting to hug him in a friendly way to kissing him passionately was imperceptible.

Maybe I woke up like that one day, but it's also possible that the desire had been brewing in me for weeks, months, years, I just blocked it deep down. And what if I felt that little spark the first time we met, but I was still almost a child and couldn't identify it? I have to start this story somewhere. And like most fairy tales, it didn't start well. The mood of the whole band was cast by melancholy over the loss of a friend. But like all dead artists, Keaton remained immortal. His voice will live forever on the records, despite the fact that he was not with us anymore. The music of Too Close To Touch mingled with the cohesive low murmur of the crowd outside in the club's concert hall, where Keaton's vocals echoed painfully through the walls. "Death is not a game with the ones I hold close She was mine, mine, you can't deny Three years is too quick to die"* All his anger, all his pain were in the song he wrote about his little sister, who died lying on a hospital bed. In the text, he blamed God for choosing little Eiley over him. The poor boy had no idea at the time that they were both chosen… Personally, I would have liked to break something if I remembered that he was gone now, and I could only reassure myself that maybe they were already up there together. If it even exists up there. Because what if up there is actually only two meters underground?

The song didn't come at the best moment, because we had to go on stage right after, and I might be able to hide my mood in front of the audience… I glanced at Noah and my heart sank when I saw him banging his head against the wall, clutching the microphone in his hand, next to the stage, which we will soon have to walk up to. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, which I completely forgot to do in parallel. I was so worried about him. I knew he'd hate himself for that if his voice cracked while singing the opening lines of The Death Of Peace Of Mind. His maximalism was what he could torture himself with the most. Also, he had to be up there alone at the beginning of the song, we didn't join until later. I walked to him and gently put my hand on his shoulder, but I still managed to scare him a little because he pulled away before he opened his eyes. When he saw me, he almost snuggled back into my hand. It reminded me of my very first cat, the little black ball of fur I found on the street when I was barely ten. I named him Dusk because of his color and when he came to us I did everything I could to fatten him up. We slept together in my bed at night, because his soft purr always lulled me to sleep quickly. It was amazing how much Dusk and Noah were alike. Even in the semi-darkness next to the stage, my best friend's dark brown eyes glistened with unshed tears, which he tried to quickly blink away. His shoulders slumped forward in the thin linen jacket, and I'd bet his fingers were white under the faux-leather glove he wore on his left hand, clutching the microphone like a lifeline. He and Keaton were very close. In the last two years, they spent a lot of time together, especially during and after the Covid epidemic, when it was possible to travel. Even when they were far away, they kept in touch on a daily basis. Keaton was good with all of us, but he had a stronger bond with Noah. He wanted to remember him by playing their songs during the break after our opening band, but Eiley's song has never come at such a bad time.

“We can extend the time for five more minutes,” I told him, and meanwhile I looked back at Jolly, who was still fiddling with his headphones with the help of a sound technician, and Folio was deep in his own thoughts drumming on the wall, sometimes doing shoulder circles as a warm-up. "Everything's fine," Noah replied in a weak voice, to which I nodded hesitantly, lowered my hand, and took a step back. "I'm worthless to the world You're innocent and pure God, why didn't you choose me over her?”* They signaled to Noah, who gave a thumbs up as if everything was fine. Nonsense. I knew nothing was okay. Keaton's voice faded outside and soon the intro to our song began. I looked down at my guitar and after stretching my fingers I strummed a few chords just to pass the time. When Noah walked out and the crowd cheered, he wasn't as lost as he had been two minutes ago. He immediately filled the stage and sang like a fucking siren without faltering. I shook my head, feeling a little angry at myself for constantly underestimating him. It was about time to get used to that Noah wasn't ruined by all the crap that happened around him. On the contrary, it only strengthened him even more.

Two months later, I was sitting on the steps of the tour bus in Phoenix, beer in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette in the other, when I heard Noah's footsteps behind me. After a concert he liked to clear his head, so I thought he was going for his usual walk and I thought that I could join. I stood up to let him go, and when he stepped next to me, I was hit by the smell of his perfume. He had just stuffed his wallet into the back pocket of his pants, so I began to suspect that he had other plans for that evening. “Karin is in the city,” he said to me, but he didn't look at me, just watched the night lights. The blue neon lights of the bar glistened on the brunette's hair, and the tattoos running down his arms coiled around his skin like snakes. I thought I still had time. I thought I could figure something out before they met again in Salt Lake City. I blew out the last of the smoke, extinguished the butt, then slipped out of my denim jacket and held it out to him. “We will leave in the morning, be here by then.” Noah hesitantly took my jacket and looked at me. “That's it?” he asked in disbelief. I don't know what he expected. Maybe to remind him again that woman is crazy like hell? "I'm tired," I confessed to him. ”I can't save you from someone whose arms you keep running into. But I can do something to save you from catching a cold,” I gestured towards the jacket. He still didn't move, even though the situation was becoming more and more pressing for me, and the spring night wasn't nearly warm enough to keep me from getting goosebumps. I wrapped my arms around myself and hobbled in place. I kicked small stones with my boots on the asphalt of the parking lot and waited. I didn't care if I froze there, I wouldn't leave Noah alone as long as he needed me. The boys' laughter could be heard from inside the bus, a car honked on the street not far from us. I raised my head and immediately met a pair of dark eyes. Stared. I don't know how long or why. I swear he didn't even blink. Then he reached out and touched my arm under the sleeve of my shirt. “You are cold.” I blinked a few times, then started to move. I took the jacket from his hands and draped it over his shoulders. “But you don't have to be cold,” I answered him with an encouraging smile. “Everything will be okay. I will be okay,” he said quietly and gloomily. I don't know which of us he wanted to convince with this, but it didn't work. The smile immediately melted off my face. “Noah…” It's been a long time since my voice sounded so desperate when I said his name. I think all my fear must have been on my face because Noah took a step back and shook his head. I was ready to try again to get him to stay. We could have done so many things. From walking to sitting down to play video games with the boys. Or we could have gone to a nightclub to drink and to flirt with girls. Whatever, just don't let that cunt touch him again… He brushed his hair back and shrugged as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I have to go, Nick. We will talk in the morning.” And that was it. There was nothing I could do to keep him there.

I got home from the tattoo salon late that night and was so tired that all I could think about was my bed. But as soon as I stepped through the door, the strong smell of weed hit me. It went through the small apartment so intensely that I almost got sick of it. "Shit," I muttered to myself as I kicked off my shoes, dropped my bag on the floor, and headed for the bedroom with the goal of scolding Noah. The door was not locked on the little hole we called the bedroom, which was completely filled with my bed and the mattress that Noah had been sleeping on for months. When I entered, he was sitting on the bed, knees pulled up to his chin, and he was holding a weed cigarette between his long, thin fingers. As if he had completely forgotten about it, the ash fell onto my blanket and I was amazed that it hadn't caught fire yet. Noah didn't even notice I got home because he was listening to music on his earphones, and I was sure he was just physically in the room by the way he looked. I leaned towards him, took the cigarette from his fingers and crushed it in the ashtray. With that, I finally drew attention to myself, because after he looked up at me tensely, with red eyes. The Asian features of his face came to life, which normally I would have stared in fascination, but this was not a normal case. I forgot I wanted to yell at him for wasting the weed and almost setting our apartment on fire. Because by then we both owned that little flat. In the corner, next to my guitar, there was also his. Noah's things appeared in the bathroom, his shampoo, his toothbrush, he got half of my wardrobe and sometimes half of my bed… His clothes were just as messily scattered as mine, and he already had his favorite mug, from which he preferred to sip his coffee in the morning. I wanted to think that his eyes were red from smoking weed, but when he spoke, I had no doubt that he must have been crying for hours.

"I thought you'd come home earlier today," he said in a nasal tone after stopping the music and taking out his earphones. In the meantime, I opened the window without holding him responsible for why he did not do so. “I thought so too,” I answered him, then I fell down on the bed next to him. ”Another guest came at seven, and thought I would do miracles in two hours with an old, messed-up tattoo.” Noah nodded, then slowly stretched out his infinite legs. He was only sixteen then, but already a little taller than me. We sat speechless for a while and looked at each other. I was even more overcome by fatigue, and for a moment my eyes were probably closed too long while blinking, because I was jolted when Noah moved next to me. He took a deep breath, then let it out shakily. Our tattooed arms touched and I could feel the tremors running through his bones as he reached for his phone. Oh my god, he was so skinny. If I touched his arms, I was afraid I would crush him as if his limbs were made of thin glass fibers. “I got a message,” he whispered into the dimness, then put the phone on my thigh. I picked it up with a scared heart and started reading. I had a guess of what it might be, and honestly… I just didn't understand why it didn't come sooner. At first, Noah's mother tried to lure her son back to her side with sweet, but poisoned words, which in the end turned into mere threats. Every fucking word she wrote made me feel nauseous. “After half a year, she remembered that she had an underage son. Maybe she expects some kind of reward for it?” I asked, but mostly I meant it as a poetic question.

Noah tensed up next to me and started breathing faster. “I… I can't go back there. If… if you say I have to go back to her, I… rather… I…” "Hey Noah, I would never say that," I turned to him and tried to speak in the most soothing voice possible. But I was too late… By that time, tears were already falling, and he was clutching the crumpled bottom of his two-size-larger shirt. I was totally in shock because I had never seen anything like this before. What kind of friend is who doesn't recognize that the problem is so big? Noah was an old soul with a lot of shit and loss behind him, who blended in perfectly with the adults, so I tended to forget that he was still just a kid. But now there was a child next to me who was terrified. Whom fear brought out the worst. "I shouldn't be here," he said between sobs, to which I shook my head so fast that my hair hit my cheek. I knelt on the bed, turned to face him and tried to remove his fingers from his clothes. I just wanted to hold his hand… I just wanted him to know I was with him. “Noah…No! Don't tell me this!” I protested loudly, but he didn't listen to me. It's like he didn't even hear what I said. Instead, he drove himself deeper and deeper into madness. “I should have died a long time ago…years ago.” If he had only stabbed a dagger into my stomach with his words, this was the moment he twisted it. My chest felt tight and I couldn't breathe. Noah snapped his head back hard and his skull hit the wall loudly. After that, I couldn't focus on my own panic anymore, without thinking I put my hand on his head to protect him from himself. I didn't care that I might not be able to tattoo. My fingers ached as they met the hard wall, but I didn't really notice the pain. All I cared about was Noah and how I could keep him safe. I've been trying to figure out how to fix this. His cries and animalistic whining still ring in my ears, mixed with the sound of my heart's frantic beating. I wrapped my arms around his head and pulled him close as he just cried and cried, his tears completely soaking my shirt. He was hugging my thighs as I knelt next to him, finally not wanting to hurt himself anymore.

That night, I only left his side when I brought him water from the kitchen. Then we both got into bed and Noah turned to face me, but half of his red face from crying was hidden in the pillow and the other half was covered by his hair. I quickly got rid of my tight jeans, threw them on the side of the bed and took his phone in my hand. He was watching what I was doing, but he didn't speak. First, without any guilt, I deleted his mother's message, then opened his music. It didn't surprise me that he was listening to Castle Of Glass by Linkin Park when I got home. I flipped through the playlist and started our favorite song As Cities Burn after giving him one of the earbuds. "Won't you come down, heaven. Won't you come down? Won't you cut through the clouds? Won't you come down?”** At the first chorus, he already closed his eyes, and only then did I allow myself to relax a little. I carefully reached towards him, smoothed the strands falling from his face behind his ears, and then I closed my eyes too. I begged myself to fall into a dreamless sleep. In the morning, when we woke up, Noah helped me untangle the earbuds’ cord from my hair. We parted laughing, shoving a piece of toast into our mouths. He went to a band rehearsal, and I went to a place that has become my second home, the tattoo salon. My fingers got away with it quite well, with a small bruise on one of the joints, which only started to hurt a little towards the end of the day. We didn't discuss anything else about that night. Maybe I regret it since then, but what can I say? I was just a scared kid too, too stupid to help his friend more. Noah's mother died less than two months later. I didn't feel for a minute that she was a loss to the world.

He has become a grown man since and he doesn't need me to protect him from the world. I watched motionless as he walked down the street to get into a taxi. His tall, thin figure disappeared around the corner and I could finally get my legs moving. I got on the bus, grabbed a new bottle of beer from the fridge and joined the others. Folio showed Matt some funny videos and Jolly typed a message on his phone. I sat next to him on the couch and started reading the news. "He won't be able to do this for long," said Jolly next to me in a strong Swedish accent. When it was late and he was tired, he didn't pay so much attention to speaking English with perfect pronunciation. But there's nothing wrong with that, we've been working together for so long, and we've been friends for so long that we understand each other with half a word. “What do you mean?” I turned to him. I slipped out of my boots, slid off the couch, and put my feet up on the small table. I rested my head on the backrest and wiped the steam from the side of the glass with my thumb. “For Noah's secret night meetings. Matt had told him before when saw that he wanted to go out on the town all by himself.” “It doesn't happen that often. And it's not a secret where he's going, he told me he was meeting Karin,” I took him to my defense immediately. “Anyway, why can't he go? The fans had left for an hour, no one was out there. And it's not that he hit the town on foot. He called a taxi.” “That girl is strange,” Jolly grimaced. You do not say.. “When she came to our place, Noah wasn't quite himself.” Recently, I felt guilty for not trying to stop him more firmly, but I reminded myself: Noah pointed out rather angrily during an argument about this that I can't protect him from everything. "If a little fuck puts him in a better mood, we're all fine with that," Folio interjected when Matt left us alone. Maybe I gave him a nasty look from behind my beer bottle, because he held his hands up defensively. I took another sip, then realized I didn't even want the beer. I put the bottle on the table, brushed my teeth in our small bathroom, and went to sleep. At least I wanted to sleep, but I must have been tossing and turning for another hour.

It felt like I had barely closed my eyes when something started to tingle my nose. I brushed it off at first, but then Noah's soft chuckle crept into my consciousness. I groaned then pulled the pillow over my head planning to go back to sleep. I kicked the blanket off because I was hot, and it turned out, it was a big mistake. Ice cold fingers touched my side, the muscles in my stomach jumped and I let out a muffled moan. “Fuck me!” I grumbled hoarsely as I caught Noah's hand, who was just putting the other one in front of my mouth. "Shh, the others are still sleeping," he whispered excitedly with sparkling eyes. “I want to sleep too,” I answered after pulling his hand away from my mouth. “Come on, Nick. I'm hungry. I want breakfast.” “Why can’t you eat?” “Missing your company.” I sighed. “Go to the kitchen. Give me five minutes and I'll be there.” "If I leave you here, you'll go back to sleep," he said accusingly, as if he had every right not to let me go back to sleep. “And I would go a little further for breakfast than the bus kitchen. But I promise, it's worth it. You will love the place.” Another sigh, but I sat up with half-closed eyes, then pulled on a pair of pants and a thick hoodie. My jacket was still on him and he didn't seem like he wanted to give it back.

After five minutes, Noah got off the bus energetically, and I, wrapped in my hoodie, got off the bus grumpily. It was just dawn, around half past six. Noah finally slowed his steps and stopped in front of me, facing me. My hair would have been a complete disaster, not to mention the pillow creases on my face, or my eyes, which I could barely keep open. "You're sweet when you are sleepy," he said finally. He looked at me with a smile, then pulled the hood over my head and did the same with his own. ”I don't want to be recognized.” “Come on! Who would be awake this early?” I asked sarcastically, yawning into my palm. We walked down the street and luckily he was right, we really didn't have to walk far before we got to the breakfast place. Too tired to read the sign, I just entered the small but friendly coffee shop and sighed as I was greeted by a pleasant warmth inside. I said hello to the gray lady behind the counter. When I saw the first cat, licking its paws on a chair, I turned to Noah questioningly, who just shrugged. "I thought you missed your little monsters," he said. A big smile spread across my face. A cat café. I was already less sleepy when I crouched next to the kitten and let him sniff my hand. Then I noticed even more hairballs and I didn't even know which one to go to. Meanwhile, Noah ordered us coffee and breakfast at the counter. I heard the old lady laughingly answer him when asked why they were open so early: “If the kittens wake up, why can't I open the cafe?”

I smiled as I scratched the head of a calico sitting next to the wall, and we blinked at each other for a long time. After ordering, Noah came over and sat next to me. "The chick likes you," he remarked when the kitten was placed on my lap. “What kind of chick? She is a lady here,” I caressed the hairy ears. Laughing softly, Noah leaned forward and, using the kitten etiquette he'd learned from me, introduced himself to our newest friend before petting her. Now that the hood was off his head, I noticed the bite marks on his neck. The dark red spot was located right on the border between his tattoo and his bare skin so that it was just noticeable. I swallowed, tore my gaze from his neck, and reassured myself that Noah didn't seem as lost now as he did after most of his meetings with Karin. Maybe she has changed. Maybe she finally realized what she had to lose? Noah's fingers accidentally touched mine in the kitten's soft fur, and we smiled at each other as the furball began to purr loudly. I haven't seen Noah this happy since before Keaton's death. Maybe Karin isn't so bad after all? We ate breakfast sitting on the floor with a cat each in our laps and had to run back to the bus before departure.

*Too Close To Touch - Eiley **As Cities Burn - Contact

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Half-Life | Chapter Four

You realized then how delicate this all still was.

Pairing: Plaga!Leon S. Kennedy/F!Chubby!Paranormal Investigator!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Angst, Sexual Tension, Masturbation, Blood, Body Horror, Animal Injury & Death

Notes: Heeeeey, guys. It's been a minute since I last posted, but here is chapter 4 (finally)! My summer has been more busy and stressful than I ever could have imagined, so I'm happy to finally be able to finish this chapter, which is the longest chapter of anything I've ever written at just over 14k words!!! I keep breaking my own personal record every time I write, it feels like lol. I also think this is some of the best writing I've ever done and I'm extremely proud of it! Not sure when chapter 5 will come out, as school is starting back up for me soon and a couple people I know irl are getting married this fall, so I'll be traveling a lot as well. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts! (And here's a little behind-the-scenes tidbit: the painting I describe at the beginning of this chapter is actually in RE4R in the grand hall!)

Masterlist | Previous | Next

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

You awoke before Leon, for once.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sitting up on your air mattress and looking at his curled-up form, finally allowed to take in his appearance fully without having to sneak a glance or risk embarrassing yourself and him by getting caught staring.

You had yet to see him so at peace until this moment. He was laid atop his blankets, nearly in the fetal position, one long arm tucked under his pillow while the other was slung across his exposed midriff. His appendages were retracted again and his tail was hanging off the side of the bed, twitching slightly in his slumber. His breaths were deep and even, and his messy blond hair covered his closed eyes.

Never in your life did you think a literal monster could be so damn cute—so damn attractive in ways most humans hadn’t been to you before. Even the ones you dated. You wondered what that said about you.

As you gazed at Leon, you were reminded of the day before, a lovely warmth settling over you like that of the sun spilling in from the window above.

You could feel yourself blush as you recalled him carrying you across the bridge; how he had plucked a flower just to stick it into your hair; the fact he was willing to dance with you in the dilapidated ballroom simply because you asked; the way he played into your little game as you sat upon the throne, faces so near, you could brush your nose against his if you had just moved a little bit closer.

But then he had pulled away, leaving you breathless… and confused.

You weren’t sure why he would humor you with the flirting and the lingering glances and the gentle touches just to distance himself again—why he was holding himself back.

It was maddening, and you struggled to muster the courage to ask him about it or take matters into your own hands. Because, if you were honest with yourself, you were terrified of what it would mean if you did.

Worst case scenario, he would reject you and send you away. It would sting, but you had grown accustomed to the feeling; almost expected it by now. Besides, you were going to leave anyway, weren’t you?

Best case scenario, though? He would reciprocate and then… what? What could come of this? Would you still go home and let this remain as some passionate, short-lived fling? Would you work out how to stay and leave your entire life—friends and family—behind? Or would you come and visit him when you could manage it, living some kind of half-life split between your world and his?

Every outcome you could think of seemed to hurt, and you thought maybe it would be better to keep things as they were; tense but platonic.

However, being with him was so easy. Natural as breathing (when he wasn’t stealing your breath away, that is). Sure, there had been hiccups and misunderstandings. The both of you were stubborn and set in your ways, but you put your differences to rest so quickly. 

But god, were you different. The type of different that you thought before meeting him would never work. As a human, he was handsome. Devastatingly so. Could have been a model, had he chosen another career.

And, most notably, he could have had anyone he wanted.

You had come to love your body with all its curves and marks, but you doubted he would even look your way if you had crossed paths in another life.

You knew it wasn’t fair to yourself or to him to compare who he was to who he is now, considering how much he had gone through over the years and his transformation. However, you couldn’t help but think the attention you were getting from him came from loneliness and nothing more.

If anyone else had been just as stupid and nosy as you, he probably would have acted this way towards them in your stead.

Could you so easily be replaced?

Your chest clenched painfully at the thought and you forced yourself to look away from him, eyes bouncing around the room until they landed on the painting hung on the nearby wall.

It was a beautiful depiction of the castle—how it must have looked when it was occupied by people instead of dust and crumbling stone. The colors were vibrant, and a couple in the foreground were walking away from it, arm in arm. You admired it for a long while, feeling a sense of serenity overtake your anxious mind for a moment.

And then memories of the day prior flooded it instead, how you and Leon had spent the rest of the evening making crude wooden frames for the paintings you had “borrowed” from the castle, carefully finding the best places to hang the new pieces on his once empty walls.

Leon acted like he didn’t care, letting you decide for him, but you caught him glancing at the artwork from time to time, a gentle smile on his face at the way they brightened up his home.

You knew once you left he would be lonely again. You hoped if you could make these changes for him it might be enough to keep him content, even for just a little while. And, selfishly, you felt that if you couldn’t have him, you could at least inject remnants of yourself into his life. Maybe then he’d think of you the way you knew you’d think of him until your last breath.

Everything about it was unfair.

You heard a rustle and a quiet call of your name, your gaze meeting the half-lidded one of Leon as he sat up to look at you. He let out a yawn, his impossibly wide mouth gaping open in a way you once thought to be terrifying, those razor teeth glinting in the low light of the morning sun. Now, as he blinked the sleep from his red eyes, you found it more endearing, like the maw of a cat. Precious in all its sharp edges.

“Good morning,” you told him softly, a smile playing on your lips as if you hadn’t nearly worried your teeth through them moments ago.

“Mornin’. You been up long?” he asked as he swept his hair from his face. You wished you could do it for him, but you pushed that thought deep down instead.

“Not long. Was just looking at the painting,” you replied, half-lying as you pointed at the artwork in question.

His gaze trailed up to it, a small grin alighting his bizarrely beautiful features. “It really was a great idea, bringing them back here. Makes the place a lot less depressing.”

“I have those, occasionally,” you joked, pulling yourself to your feet. “I’m gonna start breakfast if you’re interested in something other than fish.”

With a tilt of his head, he asked, “What’re you makin’?”

You smirked as you walked up to him. “You can find out for yourself if you get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, catching you off guard by leaning in close, so tall that even sitting down he was the same height as you were standing. “So demanding, bunny.”

You scoffed. “Forgive me. Please get dressed and meet me downstairs. Better?” 

“Baby steps.”

Splaying your hand against his chest, you teasingly shoved him, “Whatever. I’ll just cook without you.” 

He grabbed your wrist, clawed fingers cool against your skin, causing a shiver to run through you. “C’mon, you’re breaking my heart here.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes, pulling slightly against his hold. “Then be good and do as you’re told.”

He sighed dramatically, releasing you from his grip. “Yes, ma’am.”

You grinned triumphantly, gently tapping your finger against the tip of his nose. It caused him to scrunch up his face in a way that made you laugh, and then you turned on your heels and strolled to the door.

You glanced back at him as he stood and stretched. “Bacon and eggs, by the way.”

“Now that’s something I can’t pass up.”

“Figured.” And with that, you were on your way.

You kickstarted your morning by brushing your teeth and washing your face in the sink, then quickly got dressed so you could begin working on breakfast.

Leon was swift to join you, staying out of your way as he would be little help with his claws but keeping you company regardless. You made sure to leave his eggs runny and his bacon undercooked to abide by his more primal eating habits.

Soon enough, the two of you were at the table, sitting across from each other as was becoming the norm. It all felt so… domestic.

“Got any plans I need to know about?” he inquired after emptying his plate.

You swallowed the bite you had been chewing, glancing out of the nearby window. “It’s a nice day out. Pretty warm for autumn. Would that lake trip I mentioned yesterday be out of the question?” 

“Don’t see why we can’t. And there’s lots to see. I think you’re going to have a good time.” 

“With you? Always.”

You could have sworn a faint pink rose to his face, but he was quick to stand and place his used dishes in the sink, so you couldn’t be certain.

After a quick prep for the trip, you headed down to the lake, Leon helping you get onto the boat, which rocked violently as you stepped onto it, to your dismay. He chuckled as you grappled his shoulders to steady yourself, slowly lowering onto the bench beneath you.

“Not too keen on a swim, huh?” he teased you.

“Not fully clothed, at least,” you muttered in reply.

He simply smirked at that but didn’t respond. 

Leon smoothly directed the loud motorboat to the first location you had agreed upon back at the house, which was a small cave that held a wooden shack inside. It was such a strange little place, but you liked to hear the echo of your voices bounce off the cave walls, as well as the sound of the boat gently slapping against the dock.

The headless statue with the dark stains on it—that looked an awful lot like old blood—made you uneasy, but you could see yourself camping out at a place like this.

After that, Leon said he was taking you to what he called “chicken island”, which made you laugh. 

“Can’t imagine why they’d call it that,” you mused.

“It had chickens there if you can believe it,” was his deadpan response. 

And he didn’t lie. Although the birds were no longer present, many rusted cages full of straw nests were stacked across the small area and worn feathers littered the ground. There wasn’t much to it, as he had warned, but you felt the need to at least say you had been to such a silly place.

He then took you into another cave, pulling up to a large dock with only your flashlight as a guide. You climbed up the ladder to the deck above—a place that you had passed through to get to the lake in the first place—to sit on a crate and eat your lunch.

Time was passing rather quickly while out on the water, and you worried if you spent too much time dawdling, you’d have to come back the next day and waste precious hours you could be doing other things.

The end of your visit here was coming up sooner than you’d like, after all. 

You were halfway through your sandwich, giving the room a more intense sweep, when your eyes fell upon the elevator in the corner. You had pointed it out before, but Leon wasn’t keen on using it, as the generator keeping the thing in service had long since lost fuel. 

Apparently, there had been a shooting range with moving targets on the floor below, to your bewilderment. There was also one inside the castle and another in the mines beneath it, though Leon told you it was too dangerous to trek the old shafts. 

You glanced at the counter next to the elevator and a thought came to your mind. “Hey, Leon, you said there were moving targets in the shooting range, right?”

He looked at you quizzically but nodded, mouth full of sliced ham.

You giggled at the sight, but continued your questioning, “So if they were moving, was someone controlling them?”

He swallowed thickly before answering, “Yeah... This guy I just referred to as ‘The Merchant’. He popped up all over the village while I was trying to save Ashley. Helped me a lot by selling me supplies. He was in charge of the shooting ranges around here.”

“How did he know where you’d end up in time to set up shop? And how did he avoid getting infected with the parasite?” 

Leon clicked his tongue. “Your guess is good as mine. He was… weird… but he did me a solid, so I figured it would be best not to ask questions. Even sold me some things to live on after I turned. He never came back after that.”

“Do you wish he did?” you asked, unable to stop yourself from prying. It was a bad habit, you knew, but you couldn’t help it.

You wanted to get to know Leon in every capacity, even though leaving would only hurt worse if you did. You must've been a masochist, then. 

He sighed wearily, crossing his arms. “If I’m being honest… every day I wished someone would come back. Didn’t matter who. Used to lay awake at night and think about Claire or Ashely or Ad—” he paused at that, and you were going to ask what name he was about to say when he continued, “Anyway, I used to imagine them coming to find me. Just to say hi, I guess. To see how I was doing. But they never did. Not that they should. I told Ashley not to come back for her safety, and to not tell anyone I was alive. Don’t know why I hoped she’d break her promise.”

“Well,” you started, reaching over and wrapping your fingers around his hand, “at least I’m here.”

“Yeah, and I’m glad for it, even if it's just for a week.” He was staring down at your knuckles and you wanted nothing more than to coil your arms around him, but you refrained.

You considered him for a long moment instead, all your overthinking from earlier being tossed out of your mind as you promptly made a decision, saying, “I could always come back. Make this a yearly trip or something.”

His gaze jumped up to your own, then, shock evident in his pale features. “And why would you do that?”

You let out a huff of laughter. Was he really that clueless? Well, you weren’t about to give him the full truth—that you were utterly infatuated with him—instead replying, “Because I’m your friend, aren’t I?”

“Friend,” he repeated, voice low. Was there a hint of disappointment in his tone, or did you imagine it? “Yeah, I guess at this point, you really are. But I don’t know if it would be a good idea for you to come back.”

“Why?” You felt hurt by that, but you tried to hide it behind a nonchalant attitude, attempting to sound more curious than bitter.

“We’re wasting daylight,” he said instead of answering you, standing up from his crate. “We should keep moving.”

You stood up, too, confusion and frustration circling in your head like vultures. “Fine, but this conversation isn’t over, Leon.”

“Hm,” was all he replied, already making his way to the boat before you even finished zipping up your backpack. 

The short trip to the other side of the cave was one full of awkward silence. You didn’t want to show that you were annoyed, but it was difficult to mask it while he was giving you the cold shoulder.

You realized then how delicate this all still was. A few days together was not enough time for him to fully open up to you. You were upset, but he had a stormy history—one he wasn’t keen on sharing.

Whether it was to protect himself from the vulnerability or spare you from the weight of his past, you didn’t know. But you wanted nothing more than to assure him that he meant something to you. That he could trust you.

You kept your mouth shut.

Despite the change in attitude, Leon was still quick to help you out of the boat. It was something you appreciated, given your apparent lack of sea legs.

Your concerned thoughts were replaced with a renewed sense of awe, though, as you shone your flashlight over the cave walls and rushed forward. Leon simply followed behind you while you explored the place, as he made a habit of doing since your arrival.

You found another headless statue stained in dark brown, to your disgust, but not much else resided in the labyrinthine tunnels.

You went back to the boat, and as you were about to leave the area altogether, you pointed out another small dock nearby. “What’s over there? Can we go?”

He seemed hesitant, shoulders tensing, but he eventually nodded, pulling up alongside it.

Once on solid ground, you were swift in finding a painting on the cave wall, which was a large and very old map of the lake with what looked like a whale in the center.

“What is that?” You asked Leon, the uneasy silence from just before fading as your curiosity took root in its stead.

He grimaced as if remembering something terrible. “Del Lago. Giant fish monster in the lake. I killed it, though, so don’t worry.”

“Ah, a Spanish Nessie, then,” you teased despite your horror at such a concept. “Must have been old, if this painting is anything to go by.”

“Its body sank to the bottom of the lake pretty much as soon as I downed the thing,” he said, looking up at the depiction of the creature. “It’s almost a shame, what happened to it.”

“Why, cos you killed an ancient majestic beast?”

He turned to you with a smile. “No, cos I wasted all that meat.” 

You laughed and he chuckled in response, the awkward tension from earlier finally giving way to the easygoing banter you enjoyed so much.

“C’mon, there’s more to explore,” you urged, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along.

Near the mural was a shrine with two large hands sticking up from the cave floor, a head sitting in either stone palm.

Well, that explains the headless statues, you mused.

You moved on quickly after that, the cave giving way to a forested path. You made a face as you skirted past a sacrificial altar, gripping Leon a little tighter.

After having to crawl underneath a tiny gap in a stone formation, you made it to a fork in the path, a small building to your right, and a winding trail to your left.

“What’s over there?” you asked Leon as you pointed to the trail, leaning down to wipe the dirt from your clothes. 

He seemed to freeze before responding a little too quickly, “Not much. And that cabin just leads to another dock. We should head back to the boat.”

“Oh, c’mon, we’re already here! Might as well take a peek!” you chirped, marching onto the trail. 

Leon didn’t argue, but he was tense as he followed you up to the end of the path.

You were more than a little confused by what you found there.

“Graves?” you questioned aloud as you looked upon the two crosses made crudely of sticks, names carved into the wood. They weren’t next to each other like you’d expect, but spread apart and angled toward the center of the dead-end path. “How strange. The only other ones I’ve seen were in the church cemetery.”

“Yeah, strange,” Leon muttered behind you, sounding almost… nervous? You wondered why.

You leaned down to the cross on the left, barely able to make out the name “Luis Serra Novarro” on the wood. An old lighter was on the ground beside it. You wondered if it even worked anymore with how long it looked to be sitting there. 

You then crouched before the other cross, “Major Jack Krauser” etched messily upon the surface.

“Well, his name isn’t very local-sounding,” you joked of the latter.

Leon didn’t reply, but you were too distracted by what was dug into the ground in front of the cross to comment on it. It was a large knife with an engraving of a snake on its rusted blade.

“Wow, that’s cool,” you mused, reaching out to pull it from the dirt. It felt like a waste to leave such a well-crafted weapon just sitting there.

“Stop!” Leon barked, lunging forward and yanking your hand from where it brushed against the scales.

Shocked, you pulled away and stood up, taking a step back at the snarl on his face. “Whoa, what’s wrong? The thing booby-trapped or something?”

He sighed, his expression turning weary instead of angry. “No, just… would like to respect the dead.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Respect the dead? You piled up human corpses at the entrance to the village. Not sure how that’s exactly—” You stopped mid-sentence, realization hitting you as you took in the miserable look on Leon’s face. “You… you knew these guys, didn’t you?”

He grimaced at your words but slowly nodded in response.

“Who were they?”

Leon crossed his arms over his chest tightly, as if to hug himself, before jerking his head to the grave on the left. “Luis helped me and Ashley. He actually saved me from him, too,” he said, looking at the grave to the right. “He was killed by that very knife.”

“Why bury this guy next to your friend if he murdered him?” You were flabbergasted by this whole thing, desperate to make sense of Leon’s strange actions.

He winced at that. “He was my mentor. Trained me to be an agent in the first place. Without him, I don’t think I could have survived.”

“What caused him to change?”

Leon decided to plop onto the ground, his tail whipping in agitation along the dirt. You joined him, sitting cross-legged beside his slouched figure, waiting for him to say something.

“He was betrayed by the very country he fought to protect. His whole unit was wiped out and he was badly injured, unable to fight like he used to. He ended up going MIA and joined the cult. They infected him with the Plagas, too. I had to fight him. I had to—” he stopped to take a steadying breath, “I had to kill him. With that same blade. His blade.”

“I’m so sorry, Leon,” was all you could offer him, placing your hand over his and squeezing gently. He closed his claws into a fist and squeezed back.

“I buried Luis first,” he began. “Had to go into the mines to retrieve his body, ferry it out here. Then I went to the island on the other side of the castle to find Krauser. The whole place had collapsed in on itself, but I had hoped I could get to him. Dug in the rubble for days, but… couldn’t find a body. The knife is all I had left of him, so now it’s here.”

“I see,” you said quietly, staring down at the muddled reflection of Leon’s dirt-covered leg in the rusted blade. “Why’d you place their graves so far out of the way?”

“It’s secluded. Quiet. Peaceful,” he replied, head tilting towards the sky and closing his eyes. “Figured I would bury Wolfie here, too, when he eventually dies. Just thought it would be a good place to…”

You saw him swallow back his words.

“A good place to what?”

He sighed and shook his head before looking at you, those red eyes so hauntingly melancholy, it made your heart ache. “A good place to rest.”

The two of you sat quietly in the dirt, simply holding hands and watching the breeze ripple through the foliage surrounding you.

He’s right, you thought, comforted by the shade of trees, yet still able to make out the blue of the sky above, it is a good place to rest.

You knew Leon grieved the life he once lived, so evident in the way he carried himself—the way he spoke. But this kind of loss was news to you. You never realized just how much weight he carried.

You were determined to lighten the burden in any way you could.

“Come on,” you told him, finally standing. “We have one last stop, don’t we?”

He didn’t need your help to get to his feet, but he still took your outstretched hand, giving you a small, grateful smile when he towered over you once more. “Yeah. We do.”

Before you knew it, you were back on the motorboat, heading straight to the center of the lake for your last location.

You had seen the old, half-sunk fishing vessel from the shore, but wanted to explore it last for the hell of it. You were glad you made that decision, hoping that spending more time on the calm waters might lift Leon’s spirits.

He came to a stop at the port of the large wooden boat, gracefully exiting onto the dilapidated vessel before reaching his hand out and pulling you onto the algae-slick deck with him.

“Careful,” he warned, releasing his hold on you. “The boards are pretty damaged. Wouldn’t want you to fall through.”

“Yes, sir,” you teased, but you took your time walking around, just in case. You heard him chuckle as you shuffled slowly forward, giving him a lighthearted glare in response. 

There really wasn’t much to see of the place, only able to access the front of it. 

You leaned against the railing of the bow after a brief sweep of the area, looking out onto the blue, blue water. It was beautiful, and you could see why Leon would spend hours fishing out here beyond catching a meal or two.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, finding him leaning against the front of the cockpit, his eyes already on you. You wished you knew what he was thinking when he looked at you like that. You hid your blush by turning back around.

You placed your hands on the railing, a light giggle escaping you as a thought crossed your mind.

“What’s so funny?” he questioned, and you knew he was smiling without needing to face him.

You tapped your fingers on the wood. “You ever see the movie Titanic?”

He scoffed but didn’t answer, instead stepping closer. Before you knew what was happening, he had gently tugged your arms up, holding them in the air as he leaned down to place his chin on your shoulder. Your breath was caught in your throat by the proximity, his own tickling your cheek.

“Was this what you had in mind, bunny?” he asked you, voice low and teasing in a way that made your stomach flip. You kept your arms up as he slid his hands down to rest on your waist and you wondered if you would pass out from your inability to pull oxygen into your lungs.

You needed to get yourself together, so you forced out a nervous laugh before saying, “If only we had Celine Dion playing in the background. I think we’d be dead ringers for the remake.”

Leon laughed heartily. “I can’t imagine they’d do a remake of such a nineties classic.”

You giggled, turning slightly to meet his eye. “They remake everything these days.”

“Well, I don’t think I have what it takes to play Jack, but you’re pretty enough to go on the big screen.”

Oh. 

That compliment made heat flood your whole body, though you didn’t want him to notice it. “What are you talking about? You’re practically Leo DiCaprio two-point-oh.”

“Mm, maybe ten years ago,” he mused, pulling away from you, to your chagrin. “C’mon, we should head back to the house.”

You pouted as you turned to face him. “But I don’t want to yet!”

“Well, there’s not much left to do out here,” he replied, as if coaxing you to follow his lead.

But that wasn’t exactly your style, now was it? 

Instead, you let your hair down from its messy bun, kicked off your shoes and socks, and yanked your shirt over your head.

Leon’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as you stripped in front of him, pulling your jeans off and leaving yourself only in your underwear. You could tell he was trying not to stare, focusing solely on your face as he choked out, “What the hell are you doing?!”

Still, you saw his gaze drop to your bare skin. You felt utterly exposed, but you weren’t ashamed.

In fact, you felt good.

You felt free.

You sat on the railing of the boat, smiling wickedly at him as you flipped your legs over the edge. “I told you if I was going to have a swim, it wouldn’t be fully clothed, didn’t I?”

Before he could say anything else, you plunged into the water.

It was so cold, you locked up for a moment, your body shocked by the sudden change in temperature. You stayed under for a few seconds, willing yourself to adjust before breaching the surface.

You wiped the water from your eyes, blinking up at Leon as he hung off the bow of the boat. It looked like he was about to dive in after you, as if he was worried you wouldn’t come back up.

His concern for you warmed you right up.

“Are you serious?” he interrogated, breathing out a sigh of disbelief. “You said it was too cold to bathe out here, but you’ll take an afternoon swim?”

“Definitely too cold for a bath,” you replied, nodding sagely. “But you should still come join me!”

“Absolutely not. You’re crazy, you know that?”

You smiled, all teeth. “What was your first clue, sweetheart?”

He scoffed. “You showing up here in the first place, probably.” 

“So…” you began, “you should learn to expect the unexpected. And jump in. I know the cold doesn’t bother you, Leon.”

He sighed, staring over at the shore for a moment before turning to face you once more. “Fine.”

You whooped in victory as he stepped back from the railing, and then bit your lip as you watched him pull off his shirt, revealing his lean, taut upper body. His legs were obscured by the boat as he tore his pants from them, but you got a good look when he leapt onto the ledge of the bow. You had to crane your neck to take in all of him, grazing your eyes up his muscled form, covered only by boxer briefs.

Before you could stare for too long, he dove into the water behind you, and you covered your eyes as it splashed up in a small wave.

He quickly rose to the surface, flipping his blond hair from his face.

“See? Not so bad,” you told him, paddling closer to where he was treading.

“Guess not.”

You were about to speak again when you felt something large slither along your leg. You yelped, pulling your body away from the sensation. “Oh my god, something just touched me!” 

Leon shrugged. “Probably just a fish.”

“No, no, it was definitely a snake!” you told him, eyes staring down as if you could see into the dark water.

“It’s possible. There’re vipers in the area, I told you that before.” He seemed to be taking joy in your distress and you glared at him angrily for it.

“Leon, if that’s true, I need out RIGHT now.”

You began to swim towards the motorboat, suddenly very over this whole situation, when something touched your leg again. You screamed as it wrapped around your ankle, pulling you under the water.

You weren’t under for very long, whatever it was almost immediately releasing you. You sputtered as you pushed your head above the surface, panicking.

But then you heard Leon laughing hysterically nearby, and the realization that he was just screwing with you hit you like a brick.

“Oh, you asshole!” you yelled, wading back over to him and shoving his chest in rage.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just had to,” he told you between laughs.

“Yeah, you will be.” With that, you splashed his face with water, feeling smug that you got him before he could use his arm as a shield.

You splashed him a few more times until he lunged toward you, grabbing your arms, “Okay, we’re even now. Happy?”

He released you and you pretended to think about it for a moment, easing closer. Your faces were mere inches apart, and you wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss him. You weren’t sure how the action would even work, considering his protruding fangs, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to find out. 

He seemed to edge nearer, and you wondered if he had the same idea.

But your nerves got the better of you.

Instead, you jumped up and shoved his shoulders down, dunking him completely under the water.

It was your turn to laugh as he came back up, his wet hair covering his eyes. “Now I’d say we’re even.”

He pushed the strands from his face and shook his head, chuckling. “Yeah, I deserved that.”

Before you could say something else, the sky seemed to darken suddenly. You still had a couple hours of daylight left, so you glanced up, confused. You saw that clouds had converged over the sun, looking awfully heavy.

Something splattered against your forehead, and you wiped it off, realizing it was a raindrop. Several more began to fall on and around you, and you knew it was time to head back to shore.

You and Leon quickly got dressed as the sprinkle of rain turned into a steady shower, dampening your once-dry clothes. Still, you made the time to glance at Leon’s cute butt as he leaned down to pull up his pants, and when you turned to put on your own, you could feel his eyes on you too.

Thankfully, Leon decided to head back to the cave, the rain only coming down harder as you finally entered it. Leon moored the boat, and the two of you hurried through to the quarry. 

A flash of light streaked across the sky as you reached the church, the echoing BOOM that followed it making you jump out of your skin. You must’ve looked like a wet chihuahua with how you shook, both from the sound and the cold rain seeping down to the bone.

Leon turned to face you, his expression concerned. He got close, placing his palms against your arms. “You’re freezing. C’mon, let’s get you home.”

Despite your misery, you couldn’t help but feel warmed by his words.

Let’s get you home.

He said it like it was yours, too.

He grabbed your hand, tugging you along as you rushed back to his place, knowing it was still quite a trek.

You finally made it to the house, and you doubled over as soon as you crossed the threshold, panting heavily from practically jogging the whole way. You were shivering violently, your teeth chattering as you finally caught your breath, when you felt Leon lay his hand across your back.

“Hey, you should get changed. I’ll start a fire,” he urged, eyes soft as he looked at you.

You nodded, doing as he said, wringing your drenched clothes over the tub before hanging them on the sides of it.

Feeling slightly better, you went back into the main room, seeing that Leon had pushed the dining table over and moved the couch in front of the fireplace, where a stack of logs was piled in the hearth.

He was struggling with the matches again, so you gently took them from his hands, alighting the kindling yourself. He simply nodded at you before you sat down on the couch and reached your hands towards the slowly growing flames.

“You’re soaked,” you told him. “Go change. I’ll make dinner when we warm up.”

He smiled down at you as he stood, stroking the top of your head. You never wanted him to stop. “Be right back, then.”

You were finally losing the chill as he returned, sitting down beside you, his tail draped between you on the seat.

Another loud crash of lightning made you cry out, flinching.

“Whoa, there,” he said softly. “You okay?”

You grimaced. “Yeah, I’m not… the biggest fan of storms. I like the rain when I’m cozied up inside, but thunder and lightning… I don’t know. It freaks me out.”

“So you’re afraid of heights, snakes, and storms. Anything else I should know about?” he asked lightheartedly.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not afraid of heights, just falling off a shoddy bridge, thank you very much. And snakes only scare me when they’re venomous and I think they’re slithering around my leg.”

His tail flicked up as you stared pointedly at it, the movement incredibly cute to you. He could really be just like a cat sometimes.

“I stand corrected. Just storms, then,” he teased.

The conversation flowed to other things, but looking around, you realized with sudden concern that Leon’s dog wasn’t nearby. “Hey, where’s Wolfie? Was he upstairs?”

Leon’s brows furrowed at that, standing and glancing around the room. “No… he wasn’t. He usually doesn’t stay out when it storms.” 

“Is he okay?” you questioned.

Leon crossed his arms. “I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe staying somewhere out of the rain.”

You nodded, though you worried for the poor dog’s safety.

As you promised, you made dinner—a roast, actually—and you had never seen Leon so excited by something you had cooked thus far (though he wouldn’t touch the potatoes, onions, and carrots that simmered alongside it).

As you worked on washing dishes, you saw Leon staring out of one of the windows, and you knew he was looking for Wolfie. You finished the chore, walking into the main room to stand beside him.

“He’s never been gone this long,” Leon stated with a frown.

You worried your bottom lip. “Maybe… Maybe we should go find him.”

Leon glanced at you, then, brow raised. “I’ll go find him. You should stay here.”

“No way,” you argued, already pulling on your hiking boots. “I’m not letting you go out there alone.”

“You could catch a cold, and that bear is still around. Besides, you hate the thunder and lightning, and it's only getting worse.”

“Well, I’m worried about him too. I want to help.”

He sighed as you stood upright, seeing the determination in your eyes. “Fine, but dress warm.”

You nodded vigorously. “I have a raincoat and a jacket, don’t worry.” 

You quickly ran to your luggage, throwing on your hoodie, sliding the raincoat over it, and grabbing your flashlight from your backpack.

You met Leon at the door, the two of you heading out into the dark.

You kept your arm braced above your brows to block the rain from your eyes, the hoods of your jacket and coat pulled over your head still not enough to prevent the onslaught, raking your flashlight over the ground as you and Leon called Wolfie’s name.

You didn’t know how long you were in the storm, and although the clothes on your top half helped to keep you dry and warm, your legs were getting soaked through. You pushed past the discomfort, your concern for Leon’s animal companion taking precedence.

The look of worry on his face was compelling enough to keep moving forward on its own.

You were near the church again, calling out the dog’s name as loud as you could, getting desperate to find him safe, when you heard Leon gasp beside you.

“What?” you questioned.

“This way,” was all he responded, bounding through the woods at a speed you could barely keep up with.

Leon was taking you deep into the forest, and you could focus on little else but his darting form as you followed him, afraid to be left behind in the dark.

You thought you were gaining on him when you tripped over a root, cutting your knee as you fell to the ground, hard. You were quick to pick yourself back up, sprinting after him and gritting your teeth against the pain.

You lost him, though, the realization filling you with panic. You just continued running in the direction you saw him taking off, calling after him frantically.

The thunder rumbled deafeningly from above, making you cower in fright, but you knew you had to keep going. The darkness seemed to encroach upon you, the torrent of rain pelting against your whole body hard enough to hurt.

You don’t think you had ever felt this afraid.  

To your relief, you finally caught up to Leon, but it was short-lived when you took in what was ahead of you.

Leon was crouched over, and you could hear him muttering in distress. Before him was Wolfie, laying motionless on his side, four streaks of dark red seeping out of his white fur.

You rushed forward, dropping onto your injured knee, not caring how badly it stung as you assessed the animal in front of you. He was still breathing, thankfully, and letting out quiet little whimpers. The wounds looked deep as you appraised them, wondering what could have done this to him.

As if reading your mind, Leon growled, “It was that damn bear.”

You didn’t respond as he stripped his shirt off, easily ripping it into strips. They were soaked through with rain, but it was better than nothing.

“Here buddy,” Leon reassured Wolfie as he grabbed his own tail.

“What are you doing?”

Ignoring you, he gently pricked the barbed end into the dog’s side, who yelped and writhed at the feeling before near-instantly relaxing.

“Kills the pain,” is all he offered as you looked at him in shock. He then shoved the strips of cloth into your hands. “I’m gonna lift him up and I want you to wrap these around him, okay?”

He’d only ever been this serious when protecting you from that bear two days prior, and you swallowed before nodding in response.

You began to carefully slide the first strip over one of the gashes, about to tie it off, when Leon interjected, “Tight, but not too tight.”

“Got it,” you said, fingers shaking as you followed his direction for each wound. You weren’t sure if it was the cold or the nerves but you managed it well enough.

When you were done, Leon stood. Wolfie was held in his arms, the dog’s blood smearing against his bare chest. It made your stomach twist with unease.

“I have bandages in my first-aid kit,” you told him as he began the trek back to the path, trying to keep up with his long, hurried gait.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Leon said. “We can change the bandages, but I don’t know if he’s… I don’t know if he’ll make it.”

You couldn’t reply, tears pricking your eyes at the thought.

Leon’s voice wavered as he continued, “I know he’s old. I knew I’d lose him eventually. But not like this. Not this soon…” 

You pushed back your tears, sadness giving way to conviction. “After we replace the bandages, I’m gonna take him to the vet, okay? You’ll have to carry him to my car, but I think if we’re fast, we can do this.” 

“What if he dies on the way there?” Leon asked miserably, “I don’t want to be away from him in his last moments.”

“I know it’s a risk, but we have a real chance of saving him, Leon. You told me to trust you yesterday, right? Well, now I need you to trust me.”

He seemed so conflicted but eventually nodded, his features solemn. “Okay. I’ll trust you.”

You reached over and squeezed his arm comfortingly.

God, I hope I’m right about this.

+++

It had been a long time since Leon felt this afraid.

He had lost everything once, and was forced to spend a decade trying to survive the hole that loss gouged out of him. Just a void sitting inside his chest, the edges slowly creeping out to devour what was left.

Wolfie had been there for him in ways humans never were. Even when he wasn’t this grotesque monstrosity, he would rather die than burden someone else with his innate brokenness, preferring to mask it with his need to help or his oftentimes cynical sense of humor.

The truth of the matter? He didn’t know who he was when he wasn’t useful to someone. When he wasn’t a protector. He had never felt so unmoored, going without this self-imposed purpose to drive him forward.

Wolfie had renewed that purpose a month after his transformation, when Leon was at his lowest. He limped up to him with a swollen leg after being bit by a viper, clearly recognizing him despite his mutated features. He had done all he could to nurse the poor dog back to health, and Wolfie hadn’t left his side since.

He sometimes wondered if it was fate that brought them together again—if he allowed himself to believe in something beyond the mundane—but he had renounced god and any other spiritual bullshit ages ago.

He looked down at the dog in his arms, no longer in pain due to his venom’s painkilling properties, but his breaths were still concerningly shallow. He wanted nothing more than to sprint full speed back to the house but worried the movement would only exacerbate Wolfie’s injuries.

He wasn’t completely sure he was okay with letting you take his dog from him—not wanting to miss any precious time he might have left—but he agreed that it was worth a shot to bring him to the vet clinic, even if he couldn’t join you.

He glanced over at you, your teeth gnawing into your bottom lip as you silently walked beside him, and was at least glad you were here with him in this nightmare. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to do this alone.

Eventually, you made it to the house, and he moved aside to let you open the door for him. You both rushed into the building, you grabbing your first-aid kit and a pair of scissors.

You were quick to find the proper bandages, and Leon just held Wolfie’s body out so you could cut off the bloodied strips of his shirt and re-wrap the wounds. Your hands were shaking, but you were careful and methodical, so he didn’t comment on it.

When you finished, you grabbed a blanket and a towel, laying them on the dining table so Leon could bundle the dog tightly inside to protect him from the rain. It was a bit of a walk to the hunting lodge, after all.

You moved away to wash your hands and find your car keys, but Leon could only stare down at your leg as you came back into the room. There were mud and grass stains, which he expected, though he was caught off guard by the knee of your jeans being torn, bright red trickling down your shin in a small but steady stream.

“What happened to your leg?” he questioned, unable to recall when you could have gotten the injury.

“Oh, it's nothing. I just tripped when I was chasing after you. Nearly lost you completely because of it, but I found you pretty fast,” you told him nonchalantly as you packed your bag.

He felt his stomach drop at your words, realizing that he hadn’t once looked back to check on you during his mad dash to find Wolfie. The thought that you were hurt and lost in the middle of the woods during a storm that scared you, and he just left you there, making bile rise to his throat.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I should have waited for you… I didn’t even know you weren’t behind me anymore…”

You shook your head, smiling at him, but the expression couldn’t hide the exhaustion in your eyes. “It’s okay, I promise. You were worried about Wolfie. I don’t blame you.”

“It’s not okay,” he seethed, his own self-hatred pooling into his chest. “I left you alone in a storm! In the dark! What if that bear was still around, huh? It could have killed you and I left you there, with nothing to defend yourself with!”

“Leon, I’m fine. Nothing happened beyond this little cut.” Your voice was calm and he wished he could hate it. Hate you for how you could talk him into or out of almost anything.

It had been mere days. He didn’t know you, and yet he trusted you implicitly. Trusted you with the life of his only companion.

And then, when he asked you to trust in him, he had sabotaged it in an instant.

He didn’t respond, knowing he might say something he’d regret, so he only watched as you quickly rolled up your pant leg to blot and disinfect the cut. He disliked seeing you in pain, witnessing the way your face screwed up as you used peroxide on the small wound—heard the hiss you made as it bubbled up on your broken skin.

You were wrapping one of the extra bandages over it when Leon looked out the window, the storm only hitting harder as the hours passed. “Maybe we should wait it out. You shouldn’t be driving in this.”

You sighed as you unrolled the leg of your jeans, walking over to stare into the dark with him. “Under normal circumstances, you couldn’t pay me to go out in this weather. But I don’t think we have time to waste, Leon.”

You both glanced over at Wolfie on the table, wrapped up and hopefully comfortable in the blanket. Leon had no choice in this if he didn’t want to lose his dog.

He was meant to protect him and now he was sending him off with someone most people would call a stranger.

Any quality of his that could be halfway useful in this situation, and he wasn’t even there when Wolfie was attacked. And now his only companion was bleeding out on his dining table and he could do nothing to stop it but put him in someone else’s care and hope he lived.  

Leon had all this strength, all these heightened senses. His entire body was deemed a weapon. And yet he couldn’t even save his dog.

What was the point of any of it, then?

And what would he have done if you weren’t there to help him? Watch Wolfie slowly die, helpless to prevent it?

Worse still, what if it was you who had been attacked?

He imagined your lifeless body lying in his arms, frightened eyes wide and staring off into nothing, drenched in blood that wouldn’t stop pouring out of you, and he could do absolutely. Fucking. Nothing.

“Come on, Leon. We have to go,” came your gentle voice, pulling him out of his dark thoughts. 

He only nodded in response, grabbing Wolfie and heading back out into the downpour, beyond the safety of his home.

The two of you trudged in silence through the village, the storm raging above your heads. He could practically sense your anxiety coming off of you in waves, but you were doing your best to remain stoic. He didn’t know if it was to calm yourself or him, but he appreciated the attempt.  

Finally, you made it to the hunter’s lodge, and you spoke up as soon as the door shut out the torrent. “I was wondering, how did you know where Wolfie was? Back there in the forest?”

“The storm dampened it, but I could hear him whimpering from the path. When I got close enough, I could smell the blood.”

“Right, super senses. Thank god for ‘em.”

He glanced at you sharply. “I’d rather have stopped him from getting hurt in the first place.”

“Hey, I know this sucks, but he’s alive and he’s going to stay that way if I have a say in it.”

He really took you in at that. Your face was wet, strands of your hair sticking to your forehead, but the fire in your eyes…

He had no way to know if things would work out the way you wanted, but your conviction—your unyielding, infectious hope—quelled the needling fear, if only for a moment. 

He might not believe in god, but angels must be real if you were standing beside him.

You made it to the car shortly after, Leon gently placing Wolfie into the backseat as you threw your bag into the passenger side and sat behind the wheel.

You turned the ignition, the vehicle roaring to life as Leon looked down at you, urging, “Please be careful. I might lose Wolfie, but I can’t lose you too.”

“I will be. I promise.” Before you closed the door, you glanced back up at him, asking, “What are you going to do while we’re gone?”

He clenched his clawed hands into fists, feeling the sharp edges dig into his skin as he grated out, “I’m going to kill that fucking bear.”

You looked shocked by his words but nodded in agreement. “Okay. Good luck.”

And with that, you closed the door.

Leon stepped back to let you drive off, knowing that the fate of his companion was out of his hands.

He exhaled harshly and turned on his heels, ready for the hunt.

Now this is what he was good for.

Shifting onto all fours, Leon was quick to shed his more human qualities for the sake of the kill, sprinting faster than he ever had on his legs alone. He focused solely on his senses to direct him through the downpour and to his prey, feeling his claws digging into the wet earth below.

As he had told you earlier, the storm dampened his abilities, but that wouldn’t stop him from reaching his objective.

In fact, it only made him more hellbent on completing it. 

It took him nearly an hour to find where the massive animal was lurking: a cave not far from where he had found Wolfie bleeding into the mud.

Despite its size, there was not much of a fight as Leon latched those deadly teeth of his around its throat and ripped. It barely had time to even register him launching at it before it was wheezing and choking on its own blood.

In this form, Leon was too proficient at killing. A part of him—deep, deep down—wanted to take his time tearing the beast limb from limb, listen to it roar and whine in agony before he finally put it out of its misery.

When its jilted movements eventually stilled, blood coating the cave floor and Leon from his mouth to the knees of his dirty pants, he stumbled back into the wall and closed his eyes tightly.

Vengeance. It was something he understood, but he didn’t see the point of it. Blood for blood’s sake never sat right with him. He only sought to kill out of necessity—to survive.

And yet, here he was, bloodlust finally fading as the bear’s large corpse laid before his weary gaze.

He could pretend all he wanted that this was an act of protection, a means to prevent further attacks in the future, but the sadistic glee he felt when his teeth sunk into warm flesh… there was nothing to excuse that.

This bear was simply living as it was born to do, even in its aggression.

Maybe Leon really was losing his humanity. Not a descent into a mindless killing machine, but a dissipation of self—fully aware of his own cruelty, but basking in it instead of rebuking it. 

He wasn’t sure which version scared him most.

He had to make this worth it, then. He had to alleviate this burning shame and break apart the guilt sitting heavy in his gut like a stone.

And so, with care, he carved up the carcass of the once dignified beast and devoured it, leaving only bones and fur in his wake.

It was the only form of reverence he could convey.

He dug a shallow hole in the mud beside the cave, laying the gory remains inside before covering it once more.

The storm had finally started to clear as he finished the task, the scent of petrichor not quite able to hide that of blood. 

Unsure of how long it would take for you to return with news of Wolfie’s condition, he rushed over to the hunter’s lodge to wait out the hours.

They passed slowly. Agonizingly. All he could do was curl in on himself and sit just inside the door of the old building, wet with rain and blood and mud. 

He once thought his initial transformation was the worst he had ever felt, that it was rock bottom. Before that, it had been what transpired in this village. And before that, it had been the disaster of Raccoon City.

He realized bitterly there was always further to fall.

He wasn’t sure why you were so adamant to befriend him like this. To help him. Was this pity? Was Leon some charity case for you? 

But then he thought of the way you smiled at him, the look on your face as he joined you in the cold water of the lake, the way you drifted to him like you were caught in his orbit and couldn’t fight the pull. 

The thought that maybe, just maybe, you felt the way he did… it was a jolt across his slumped form.

However, nothing could change what he was. His nature, it was a vicious one. And someday, you might not survive the animal that unfurled inside of him—through him.

Whatever happened after tonight, he knew one thing: his only escape was death.

He would simply wait out the end of your trip, selfishly wanting to wring out any joy he might find in your company, and if Wolfie survived the night, he would send him home with you to live out the rest of his days. He was certain you would take good care of him, provide for him better than Leon could ever hope.

But, he was reminded, Wolfie might not survive.

And it was Leon’s neglect that was to blame.

Useless, useless, useless, he repeated like a mantra in his head. 

He never imagined he’d have more to lose than he already did. More to ruin.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, the dawn breaking up the night. The sun’s warmth upon his skin did little to lighten his mood—as it burned more than soothed—but then he thought of the way your soft flesh felt against his and he nearly fell into a dream, eyes drifting shut.

He shot up suddenly at the sound of an approaching vehicle, though, his misery morphing into an all-consuming apprehension.

Was he prepared to grieve?

Your car finally pulled up near the lodge, and he rushed to the side of it, his heart palpitating as he stared into the backseat window.

He saw Wolfie laying there, breathing slow and steady.

He was alive.

Leon had never felt so relieved. 

He turned to face you as you opened the door, looking up at him with tired eyes.

Your expression turned to full-blown concern when you took in his appearance, reaching out to touch the blood staining his bare chest. “Are you okay?”

Leon placed his fingers over your hand, holding it close to him, the warmth of it more of a balm than the sun ever was. “I’m fine. It isn’t mine.” 

You sighed, eased by his words. “You found the bear, I take it?”

He nodded solemnly. “It won’t bother us anymore.” You didn’t reply and he looked back at Wolfie’s unconscious form once more. “How did everything go? Will he be alright?”

“It went great. He got stitches and a blood transfusion, and they kept him overnight for observation. Went ahead and got him a few shots when they said he was in the clear this morning. He took it all like a champ.” You dropped your hand, to Leon’s chagrin, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat. “They told me to change his bandages every few hours and monitor for any infection. Gave me antibiotics and a few days' worth of painkillers. He should be just fine.”

“What did you tell them about the injury?” he questioned, suddenly concerned by what information you might have let slip in your distress.

“Don’t worry, I told them he got attacked while I was out camping. No specifics, I promise.” A look of realization then dawned on your features, to his confusion, before you began sifting through your bag.

You then pulled out a blue collar from its depths. It jingled as you held it up to Leon, shot tags dangling behind a bone-shaped one at the front, sporting the dog’s name and what he assumed was your number. 

“Picked this up before I took him from the clinic. Hope he’ll wear it,” you said, shrugging as you stood from the car.

A flood of emotions washed over Leon, then, namely an overwhelming sense of gratitude for what you had done for him. It went deeper than the collar in your hand, deeper than even saving his dog. 

You had faced a storm for him, soaked to the bone and afraid. You suffered being lost in darkness with an injured knee, even if it was only briefly. You drove through a torrent and stayed up all night to make sure his companion would live. You witnessed him covered in blood and filth and you reached out…

You were always reaching out.

Before he could think it through, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. He felt your plush body pressed against his hard edges—heard the way you gasped in shock. You almost immediately settled into it, though, holding him in turn despite the drying grime flaking onto your clothes.

“Thank you, for everything,” he murmured, face buried into your neck, the natural smell of you drifting to his nose. It was all at once sweet and grounding.

There was so much more he wanted to say, but this would have to suffice, the words caught in his throat.

“I’d do it all again in a heartbeat,” you whispered, your small hands sliding across his back soothingly.

The warmth of you made him ache, made his eyes burn, never wanting to let you go.

He knew he must.

The walk back to the house was a silent one, the only sounds the rainwater dripping onto the ground and the squelching of mud underfoot, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The two of you were just exhausted and still reeling from how the night had spiraled to near tragedy. 

Leon glanced down at Wolfie’s sleeping form in his arms, so drugged up on pain meds he likely wouldn’t wake for anything. He gave the dog’s head a gentle stroke, beyond relieved that, for now, it wouldn’t be the last time. 

The three of you entered Leon’s home, deciding that you would bring Wolfie’s bed and blankets downstairs, nestling them beside the fireplace to keep him comfortable and prevent him from exerting himself more than necessary once he was up and moving again. 

Once the dog was settled in, Leon could only stand and stare, worried that if he took his eyes off of him for a moment, he might die in his absence.

“I’ll make you up a bath, Leon,” you said quietly from the kitchen, already bringing a large pot to boil on the stove. “You could really use one.”

He sighed, finally dragging his gaze from Wolfie so that he could level it on you. “Don’t worry about that. I can just clean up at the lake.”

You huffed indignantly, approaching him and taking him in—in all his filthy, monstrous glory. “No way. You need a nice hot bath, and that’s that.”

“You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” he replied, scoffing good-naturedly. In truth, the thought of you caring for him like this made his heart beat a little faster. 

“Oh, I know,” you said with a smile, one that was so sweet, he would hold on to the sight of it for the rest of his life, “but it’s what you like about me.”

He found himself chuckling for the first time since last night, always so surprised by your ability to pull him out of his misery.

“Not the only thing,” he said lowly, fingers twitching at his sides to reach out and touch you again. 

Your cheeks flushed pink at his words, but you shook your head and laughed. “Go on, sit down for a bit while I finish what I started.”

He wanted to argue—to assist you in your task—because being waited on like this was something he had never been used to. Instead, he did as he was told, plopping down next to Wolfie on the floor and petting him to pass the time. 

He had almost fallen asleep again, unable to fight his eyes from drooping closed, when you called to him, informing him his bath was ready. He stood and stretched, yawning as he met you at the entrance of the side room. 

“Here,” you told him, a pile of his clothes, a towel, and a washcloth in your arms, “knock yourself out. Well, don’t really.” 

He took them gratefully, smiling at your ridiculous comment as he thanked you and disappeared behind the corner. 

He quickly shed what was left of his tattered clothes, dropping them haphazardly onto the floor before stepping into the tub and lowering himself in the water.

It was hot, but it didn’t burn. In fact, it was rather soothing as it lapped at his skin. The tub was almost too small for him, however, his knees peeking out of the water from having to fold his long legs.

It was cramped but not completely uncomfortable. He sunk in a little further, letting out a pleased sigh. 

This was definitely better than the lake, that was for sure. 

Before he could relax fully, he caught sight of something on the side table next to him. He turned his head and instantly regretted it.

It was a makeup mirror you had brought, and it was angled in a way he could stare directly at his own reflection.

It made him flinch.

He didn’t look away, however, gritting his teeth against the image of himself he had loathed from the moment he transformed. But not only was he faced with his monstrous visage once more, he could now see the blood and dirt caked onto his skin, exposing him for what he truly was.

Something that was meant to kill.  

He fought the urge to shatter the glass, not wanting to destroy something that belonged to you, instead leaning over and turning it away.

As he laid back in the water and began scrubbing the grime from his body with the rag you had provided for him, a barrage of thoughts overtook his tired mind, all of them relating to you. 

He couldn’t bear to look at himself, yet you rarely took your eyes off of him.

He was disgusted by his own existence and the form he was forced to live in, yet you treated him like he was normal. Like he was a person. 

He quickly finished bathing, the water starting to cool, but he was in no rush to leave, allowing himself this moment of peace and to think. 

He rested his clawed hand against his chest and could still feel where your small palm had been placed there, could still feel the way your flesh gave under his tight hold when had embraced you. The warmth that radiated from your very being.

His hand lowered mindlessly as he lingered on the image of you stripping bare to him on that boat, offering him your impish little smirk and batted lashes over twinkling eyes. 

It lowered further as he thought of your lips, wondered how they’d feel against his skin—how soft they would be.

He hissed as his hand gently wrapped around the base of his cock, almost shocked to feel it was already achingly hard.

Leon couldn’t remember the last time he had touched himself like this.

In the beginning, he worried he would hurt himself, what with the small daggers that were his new fingers. Eventually, he dared to wander—carefully, of course—and soon it was one of the few things human left of him, to have this libido to relieve. But as the years passed and his body changed, he hardly had the urge.

And now here he was, fisting his cock at the thought of you. 

He held back a groan as he slid his thumb across his slit, imagining it was your tongue instead.

He could picture your pretty eyes looking up at him as you took him into your mouth, how you’d tease him with kitten licks and the gentle scrape of your teeth until he was begging you for more, how you’d pull away just to level him with that mischievous smirk you wore so well before you’d cave and take him to the hilt.

Leon gasped as he picked up the speed of his pumping fist, lifting his hips above the cooled water, trying to avoid sloshing it onto the floor with the motion. 

He then thought of your cunt, how sweet it would taste as he laved it with his tongue—mused about what precious little sounds he could pull from those plush, kissable lips of yours. He could almost feel how your fingers would card through his hair, yank it to get him closer to where you wanted him; how he’d tease you the way you did him before finally conceding, your desperation for him almost more delicious than the very essence of you that he fed upon.

He grit his teeth as he neared the edge, fighting to hold back.

Too soon. It was too soon.

He paused his movements, taking in a slow deep breath to calm his rapidly beating heart, letting the wave of pleasure that nearly crested over him fade to a lapping tide.

His mind slipped back into his fantasy, then, needing to finish what he started before he was driven mad with desire.

He imagined you underneath him now, bodies flush together, the head of his cock sliding against you—not a taunt but a preparation for what was to come.

He wondered how tight you’d be as he pushed inside, how warm and wet and inviting, squeezing his hand as he emulated the scene from his head.

How well would you take him?

Although much of his body had changed over the years—grown—what sat beneath his belt had not. This was not a concern for him, however, having been well-endowed even for a human man of his former stature. In fact, he almost seemed more… proportionate… now.

Would he be too much?

Or would you plead for him to go harder and faster? Deeper?

Leon couldn’t stop the near growl that escaped him as he imagined the way you’d cry out into the crook of his neck, his name like a breathless prayer against his skin. He could feel you wrap your legs around him, scraping your nails across his spine hard enough to draw blood. 

He was on the precipice once more, but this time he didn’t hold back.

He thought of you looking into his eyes as you came undone beneath him, wide and full of unshed tears, overwhelmed by the euphoria coursing through you. His body shuttered at the idea of your walls tightening impossibly around him, pulsing and wet.

He managed to bite back the whine that clawed up his throat as his cock twitched, his seed spurting across his chest and stomach.

He collapsed back into the tub, his mind so gloriously blank and full of fuzzy warmth as he caught his breath.

And then the realization hit him.

He had just masturbated. To you. While you were just on the other side of the wall, without even a door to fully separate the room. 

He was flooded with remorse, then, wondering if he had managed to keep quiet enough so that you wouldn’t hear or suspect his reckless sin against you.

He stilled, listening intently to any sounds in the house, his inhuman ears able to pick out the overlapping breaths of you and Wolfie over the whistling wind outside, right there in the dining room. 

He swallowed the lump of shame that formed in his throat and roughly wiped the spend from his flesh, the harsh scrape of coarse fabric a small punishment for his transgression.

As he dried himself and changed into sleepwear, he wondered how disgusted you’d be with him if you knew just what he was thinking.

Surely, you’d never look at him the same.

He wanted to blame his exhaustion from a sleepless night, but he knew deep down this was bound to happen eventually. Your very existence was a temptation to him, after all. 

He took a steadying breath before he finally turned the corner to face you, pleasantly surprised and more than a little relieved that you were fast asleep, curled up on his couch with a blanket draped across your legs.

He smiled softly as he approached you, all worry forgotten as a swell of affection replaced it.

You looked so sweet laying there, head resting upon the pillow you must have brought from upstairs and your pressed hands, your breaths puffing out a strand of hair hanging over your mouth. Leon quietly chuckled as he tucked it behind your ear and pulled the blanket up and around your shoulders to keep you warm before standing upright once more.

He knew as he gazed upon you that regardless of whether you returned his feelings or not, his own might never leave him. He would have to make his peace with that.

He sighed, closing his eyes tightly before opening them once more, deciding that was a problem for later.

He then sat beside Wolfie, checking on him briefly before laying down right there on the floor, exhaustion overtaking any real need for comfort. Not like he hadn’t done it the first night of your arrival, anyway.

As he drifted into a deep slumber…

He couldn’t help but dream of you.

+++

The night had been a long one.

You had sat in the emergency room of the vet clinic with Wolfie for hours, watching as they tried to keep him alive.

You would never get the image of his terrified eyes out of your head, looking to you for help or for comfort as people he didn’t know surrounded him while he couldn’t even move.

You didn’t let your tears escape until they told you he was stable, locking yourself in their bathroom across the hall and sobbing into your hands, the events of the night finally catching up to you.

He would live.

You weren’t sure you could forgive yourself if he didn’t. You wondered if Leon would have.

Oh, Leon, you thought worriedly, I hope you’re okay.

You wished you could get ahold of him somehow to let him know Wolfie was alive, aware of the fact that even if he owned a cell phone, the village had no service anyway. You were half tempted to drive out to see him and tell him the news, but you didn’t want to leave Wolfie alone for that long.

You then recalled the bear and Leon’s promise to kill it, hoping desperately it didn’t hurt him. You didn’t know what you’d do if you drove back just to find him bleeding out in the mud like he had found Wolfie, the thought piercing your heart like a bullet.

To calm yourself, you replayed the day in your head, focusing only on all the good parts.

You thought of how he opened up to you at his friends’ graves, how he held your hand as you sat in the dirt together. 

You thought of how he slipped his palms across your waist on the boat, how he spoke so lowly in your ear, how your faces got so close in the water. 

You thought of how he stroked your hair while you sat by the fireplace, the affection so freely given it was as if he couldn’t stop himself from touching you.

You thought about how concerned he was for you when you returned to the house after finding Wolfie, how he was upset you had gotten hurt and lost in the woods and blamed himself. 

And then you thought of what he said before you left for town:

“I might lose Wolfie, but I can’t lose you too.”

Those words were looping in your brain over and over.

You knew he was just concerned with your safety, that he’d probably feel guilty if something happened to you while you were trying to save his dog, but the way he said it… The way he looked at you…

“I can’t lose you.”

It was like he meant it.

Despite your anxiety, you managed to nap a bit on the bench outside of the observation room, asking the veterinarian to wake you when Wolfie came to.

In the morning, while he was still out cold, you took a brief stroll outside of the clinic, making your way into the neighboring pet shop to bide the time. 

As you passed the shelves of toys and supplies, your eyes caught on a large blue collar, realizing that it was about Wolfie’s size. You held it aloft as you considered buying it, thinking it was almost silly to put a collar on a half-feral dog.

But then you thought of the other outsiders that might appear in the village every so often. You worried they might dog-nap Wolfie for his friendliness or kill him for his intimidating appearance, deciding it may be worth the purchase, just in case.

Besides, Leon seemed drawn to the color blue, if the majority of his shirts and his preference regarding the castle’s art was anything to go by. It was oddly endearing imagining the scorpion man and his wolf-dog matching in such a way.

After buying it and getting an engraved name tag, you returned to the clinic, petting Wolfie and offering him soft words of encouragement as the vet gave him some much-needed shots.

The rain finally subsided as you made your way back to the village, your nerves still alight despite Wolfie’s improved condition. 

When you finally pulled up to the dirt road near the lodge, you were overjoyed to see Leon appear beside the car.

Your heart was in your throat, however, when got a good look at him, his face and still-shirtless torso covered in dirt and so much blood.

You couldn’t stop the instinctual need to touch him, reaching out and placing your hand against his stained chest. “Are you okay?”

He gently laid his clawed fingers across your knuckles, pressing your palm into his skin, as if your very being was a solace to him. “I’m fine. It isn’t mine.” 

Your relief at that was palpable, beyond overjoyed that he was perfectly safe. Though, the blood had to come from somewhere, and it wasn’t all Wolfie’s. “You found the bear, I take it?”

Leon’s eyes seemed to darken, but he nodded, replying, “It won’t bother us anymore.”

The answer was jarringly cryptic, and Leon seemed more upset to admit he killed the bear than you would have thought, considering how eager he was to do it before you left.

You shook away your thoughts as he asked you questions, the conversation turning to Wolfie’s health.

You then recalled your purchase at the pet store, pulling it out of your bag and waving it in front of Leon. “Picked this up before I took him from the clinic. Hope he’ll wear it.”

You stood from the car, ready to get back to the house and take a nice, long nap, when Leon wrapped his arms around you, to your utter shock. 

He held you close to him, the strength of it enough to feel your bodies meld together, but not enough to hurt you.

It took you a moment to register it all, short-circuiting at the feeling of him against you, but you eventually hugged him in return, shivering as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck and let his breath fan across your skin.

“Thank you. For everything.” His voice was tight in his throat and it made your heart ache to hear it. 

It was the least you could do, a part of you deep down blaming yourself for what happened to Wolfie, because you had kept Leon out longer than he wanted. What if Wolfie had only been in the woods waiting for the two of you to come back? Maybe if you had agreed to return to the house before the storm hit, none of this would have happened to begin with. 

Instead of saying that, you only replied, “I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

It was still the truth, as you would do anything to protect this half-man and his dog—willing to suffer more than just a nasty cut and a sleepless night if it meant they were safe.

Leon pulled away, to your despair, and grabbed Wolfie, the three of you heading back to the house.

As you set up Wolfie near the fireplace, you couldn’t help but notice the way Leon wouldn’t take his eyes off the sleeping dog, and although you understood it, he needed to wash the blood and grime from his body and get some much-needed rest.

If your night had been rough, you couldn’t imagine what his had been like.

He argued against you making him up a hot bath, but you wouldn’t hear it, telling him your decision was final. 

“You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” he said in faux annoyance.  

You replied, smiling, “Oh, I know, but it’s what you like about me.”

“Not the only thing.” The words and the way he said them made a tingle run up your spine, but you were quick to shoo him off, taking a deep breath as you went about your task of filling the tub.

You changed quickly into your pajamas before sending Leon to his bath, flopping onto the couch with a quiet groan after fetching your pillow and a blanket from upstairs.

You thought that maybe you could sleep forever as you shifted, getting comfortable on the old piece of furniture. You wanted to wait for Leon, though, staring up at the ceiling in quiet cogitation.

Despite your fear that you were the reason Wolfie was out in the storm in the first place, you couldn’t understate your role in saving his life. Had you not been there, Leon wouldn’t have been able to do anything, and you could sense the distress that caused him at the realization.

You worried deeply about what might happen after you leave.

A stray tear escaped your eye and you battled the awful thought of one or both of them dying out here in this village, all alone, with no one to call for. 

Wolfie was old and this place was dangerous. And even if Leon ended up being fine physically, you knew his loneliness would eat him alive, especially with the inevitable loss of his dog an ever-looming threat.

You squeezed your eyes shut, wiping them to stop you from crying.

You thought about Leon’s smile instead. Thought of his voice and his laugh and the way he looked at you. Like you were normal. Like you were important.

You could still feel the way his arms wrapped around you, how safe you felt. How cherished.

You sighed deeply, turning over to stare at Wolfie, watching the slow rise and fall of his side as he breathed. You reached out your hand to him, gently stroking his head, his fur soft and warm.

You wondered as your eyes drooped shut and your mind began to fade to unconsciousness, your fingers slowly falling away from Wolfie’s form:

How could you leave them now?

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

Masterlist | Previous | Next