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missrosegold · 7 days

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someone new

Synopsis: Post-war!AU. It’s the quite moments that Touya enjoys the most. Sometimes he still has a hard time believing they’re real. That you are real.

He has no problems allowing you to remind him of the latter.

Word count: 16K

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem!reader)

Warnings: Mentions of post surgical interventions, Touya has hints of survivors guilt and some suicidal idealization if you squint, Smut and additional warnings listed below and on A03 so Minors or Ageless Blogs please DNI. This is rated 18+

Playlist: Omar Apollo - Evergreen (You Didn't Deserve Me At All)

Authors notes: Written for @shibaraki Komorebi collab! Thanks for having me love! Hope you enjoy!

Title is from Someone New by Hozier

**You can read it on A03 here if the formatting on Tumblr is throwing you off! I cross-post all my works onto my A03 account!

Sometimes Touya wonders how he got here.

It’s a loaded question and he knows as much. He knows exactly where he is, and he’s painfully aware of the series of events that led him to this moment in time – but he often finds himself struggling to believe it.

A part of him doesn’t want to believe it – a gnarled, still-angry part of what remains of his soul is convinced that it’s all part of some elaborate dream – one that will fade away and leave him alone and bitter once more as soon as he opens his eyes.

He falls asleep again and again, trying to prove his theory, but every time he wakes back up, he’s still in the same place:

He wakes up in your sun-lit apartment, more often in your bed, with you – always close by, never too far away.

It’s where he is even now: nestled into the soft sheets of your—no, the bed you shared together, even though it’s pushing noon on a Tuesday. Despite his body screaming at him to move, he can’t bring himself to get up just yet.

It’s not like it matters if he stays in bed anyways, he doesn’t have anywhere to be. He doesn’t have his court mandated therapy appointment until Thursday, and it’s not like he has a nine to five job like most people do. Christ, he can’t even leave your apartment building without you or a Pro-hero escort with him. (Who, ninety-five percent of the time ends up being Shoto, since he’s about the only person who wants to deal with him these days aside from you, his mom, and sometimes Fuyumi and Natsuo.)

He rolls over slightly and listens for you, trying to hear the tell-tale tread of your footsteps echoing through the halls, or the sound of you humming a gentle melody under your breath as you do your menial chores around the apartment; before it finally occurs to him that it’s a weekday and you’re at work.

He stifles a groan as he finally pushes himself up, and makes his way towards the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, flicking on the light and shutting the door behind him.

That was his biggest problem these days: not wondering when his next meal would be. Not obsessing over ruining his father’s life as he had done his. Not charring himself past the point of no return as a means of exacting vengeance upon the world of Pro Hero’s that had long since turned their backs on him. No. That was all in the past.

For the first time in his life, it was boredom that was getting to him.

That was a joke if he ever fucking heard one.

Looking at himself now it’s hard to believe that he was once a homicidal serial killer, with a rap sheet several miles long.

He looks different now. He fights the urge to snort as he turns away from his reflection in your bathroom mirror while he goes about his business.

Like a snake that sheds it’s skin every couple of years, he’s changed his form once again; though this transformation wasn’t up to him. He had no choice in the matter; what happened to him after the war was decided for him. His opinions be damned. (Though, if he thinks about it, he didn’t really give All For One and his fucked up scientist permission to piece him back together after he incinerated himself up the first time. The irony almost makes him laugh.)

He forces himself to face his reflection in the mirror as he begins the painstaking task of his skincare routine – burning turquoise eyes staring a little too long at who looks back at him.

The worst of his burn scars are gone, though the shadow of them remains. His two-toned flesh has been concealed by pale, raised skin, but he can still see the lines in his face from his first Escharotomy – a reminder of Dabi; always lingering, never fully gone, even if he wears a different face.

The rest of his body is like that as well. No longer is he marred by wicked burn scars and surgical staples; he is one even skin tone now. He is complete by all accounts, even though he feels anything but whole. The skin grafts aren’t perfect – they’re textured and prone to drying out, and the skin around his eyes always looks bloodshot – but for the first time in years, when he looks in the mirror; the person staring back at him actually looks like Touya.

It's not a perfect visual, but it’s still closer than he ever thought possible.

Truth be told, he still has a difficult time looking at himself in the mirror. It’s jarring honestly. He’d gotten so used to seeing the horrific scarring on himself, that seeing his reflection without them makes him feel like he’s staring at someone new.

The skin grafts he received at some point after his barely responsive body was all but dragged off the battle field, still itch sometimes, but he knows it’s all in his head. He can’t feel anything. He hasn’t been able to feel anything since he was discharged from the hospital he been taken to after he collapsed.

His memories of that time are hazy – he had been doped up on heavy narcotics and other nerve blockers as he was subjected to surgery after surgery in a desperate attempt to fix his scorched body – so much so, that he doesn’t know how long he was out for, or how much time passed while he was in recovery.

He remembers Shoto coming to visit him shortly after waking up from the worst of his many surgeries, and explaining that while the doctors had been able to successfully graft new skin onto him, (how his mangled body had been able to withstand another set of skin grafts was beyond him), they hadn’t been able to fix his damaged nerve endings, and had opted to cauterize the few that still worked; leaving him completely numb to any and all feeling.

Truthfully, he hadn’t cared at the time, he hadn’t been able to feel much of anything for years before that, and the little he was still able to feel was nothing but chronic pain, so at the time he has seen the news as a blessing.

And then he met you.

Shortly after that, he found himself cursing the fact that he couldn’t feel anything at all.

-----

He remembers the first time he met you.

After he had been cleared to leave the hospital, he had been taken to a heavily fortified psychiatric ward, eerily similar to the med-bay in Tartarus: all sterile white walls and armed guards. His room hadn’t been much better: just a mid-sized white box with a cot and a small window for him to look out of, though there wasn’t much of a view outside. He had no idea where the fuck he was anyways.

There he had started his rehabilitation.

It was hell. The first few months he spent there, he adamantly refused to speak to any of the doctors or physiatrists who came to work with him. Some were more persistent than others, poking their nose into his past (like he hadn’t just aired his dirty laundry out for all of Japan to witness), and those were the ones he got pissed off at the most.

In another life, Dabi would have had no qualms about turning the doctors to ash, just like he had done to everyone else who had annoyed him in the past, only; he wasn’t Dabi anymore. He wasn’t sure who he was now.

It didn’t help he had been hopped up on quirk blockers that canceled out his quirk, otherwise he probably still would’ve tried to incinerate them. But he couldn’t, and for the first time in his life, Touya Todoroki was fucking cold.

Turns out his quirk did a wonderful job of insulating him against the ice he kept hidden inside his chest all along.

He supposed he couldn’t blame them for rendering him quirkless while at the facility. Hell, he’d render himself quirkless if he was a staff member, having to deal with someone like him. Footage from the fight with his father and the all-out brawl with Shoto had been leaked to the public, showing his quirk’s true power in all of its devastating glory.

He had been told the aftermath of both fights had done irreversible damage to the surrounding areas, and no one was sure if they’d be able to fix the carnage he had created.

Good. The bitter, angry part of himself thought when he had been inadvertently told of the news. Suffer like I am.

He had been kept in isolation most of the time as the doctors tried to figure out what to do with him. His family hadn’t been allowed to visit him yet, and for that he was grateful – he hadn’t been particularly keen on seeing them after his recovery anyways. It was still too soon to face them, and he wasn’t ready to deal with the inevitable aftermath of what was to come. In the meantime, he still refused to respond to any of the medical staff who came to try and work with him, outside of sarcastic remarks and biting jabs that made the whitecoats squirm in their seats, much to his enjoyment.

Curiously, during one of the very few times he did speak to one of the doctors responsible for his treatment; he found himself asking about what happened to the rest of the League. Of course, no one would give him any answers aside from the fact they were alive and they were in custody.

He was more relieved than he thought he would be.

More time passed, and he still refused to open up to any of the staff who came to see him, though he had become more vocal with them – aggressively so – to the point he started to notice there was a continuous rotation of people now; it wasn’t just the same staff he was used to seeing when he first arrived at the facility.

Turns out, even the professionals were still scared of him – quirk or no quirk, his fiery reputation preceded him.

Eventually, the facility couldn’t keep cycling through their therapists, so they had switched tactics. Whether it was out of desperation, or the fact he made so many professionals break down after a session with him, he wasn’t sure, but he can’t say he regrets his actions, because in the end, he met you.

He remembers the day you met for the first time.

He had been forced out of his little cell and taken to one of the treatment rooms where he spent most of his time outside his own room. He had been shoved in there before he could make a snarky retort, and then… he saw you.

You had been sitting on the couch adjacent to the spot where he normally sat during his apptioments. He had been so stunned to see someone new, he’d been rendered silent. You’d looked up towards him, and for the first time since he arrived, you smiled at him.

“Hey.” You’d greeted him casually. He hadn’t responded, still unsure of who you were and what you were doing here instead of the usual staff.

You nodded to the couch across from you. “You wanna sit?”

He sat.

He fully expected you to introduce yourself, but you hadn’t. You’d just leaned back into the couch you were seated on and crossed your legs, giving him a content smile as you regarded him casually.

A few beats of silence passed. You didn’t speak and neither did he. A few minutes passed, then a half hour, and then an hour. Finally, one of the assistants came to bring him back to his room.

He stood up to go but you still didn’t say anything. He’d allowed himself to be taken back without a fuss but, he didn’t think anything more about it. The next day it was the same thing. He was taken out of his room back to the same treatment room, and surprisingly, you were already there waiting for him.

You gave him a little grin and nodded to the couch opposite you, and just like the last day, he sat.

Once again, you didn’t say anything, which was unusual, since all of the other doctors had always started off the conversation, but you sat in silence across from him – the gentle smile never leaving your face all the while.

A half hour of silence passed before he finally broke. “So, what exactly is this?” he remembers his voice sounding dry and scratchy after weeks of misuse. “This the part where you try and butter me so I’ll talk to you?”

You’d grinned at his remark. “No.”

“No? Then what the hell are you doing here? Is this some new technique the therapist’s showed you to try and get me to spill my guts to you? Reverse phycology or some shit?”

“Nope. None of that I can assure you. Actually, if I’m being honest, I’m not even a doctor.”

That caught his attention.

“The hell do you mean you’re not a doctor? How the are you in here then?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

He remembers being completely caught off guard by your answers, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit intrigued by you. He remembers squinting at you carefully – taking you in – and for the first time, he saw you. Really saw you.

He could tell that you weren’t lying to him about not being a doctor. You were dressed casually, though you were still covering up a fair amount of skin – no doubt something they told you to do ahead of time. You looked more alive than the rest of the staff in this place as well.

He was loathed to admit it, but you were pretty.

He remembers you flashing him a knowing grin, clearly able to tell he’s been shamelessly checking you out, and it was enough to make him recede back into his shell; his walls going back up once more, as he rolled his eyes condescendingly at you.

“So what’s your angle then?” He’d asked you. “You’re not a doctor but you wouldn’t be in here with me if you didn’t want something from me.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was simply here to talk?”

That had gotten a laugh out of him. A short breathless laugh, but it was the first one he’d uttered since he’d tried to incinerate himself along with his father. It felt weird leaving his throat, foreign even, and he’d cut himself off as soon as the sound exited his mouth. So, he settled for snickering instead.

“Really now? You want to talk to someone like me? Why do I not believe that?”

You had sighed, and leaned forward so your forearms were supported on your knees, fixing him with a stern gaze. The intensity of it had made him flinch before he remembered who he was. He returned the look best he could, but it hadn’t deterred you in the slightest. Instead, you sighed again.

“Look I’ll be honest with you: the staff here filled me in on your situation. I don’t know what they’ve told you, but from how it was explained to me; your family wants you back home with them. They’ve made a bunch of deals with the authorities about getting you out of here and not spending the rest of your life behind bars, but you have to successfully go through rehab first. The reason you’re here is so they can determine that you’re not a threat to society or to yourself, but the staff don’t seem to be having much luck getting through to you, and they’re desperate. They sent out a request to bring in outside help and I applied. They picked me because we’re the same age, and well… no one else really wanted to. Turns out most people are pretty scared of you.”

“Fucking figures. And you’re telling me you’re not?”

“Of you? No.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not. I’m a little nervous maybe, but I’m not scared.”

That had made him pause. He’d swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling like it was packed with cotton.

“Why’s that?” he’d finally asked you after a moment.

You had gone quiet, seemingly mulling over his question before you finally responded: “I think you have a lot to say. More than you already have, and more then what people think. To be honest, I want to hear it.”

He had laughed again, but this time it sounded forced, even to him.

“If you watched my broadcast then you know it all already.”

“Oh, trust me, I think the whole world saw your broadcast, not just Japan. No one would shut up about it for weeks. But I think there’s a lot more to you. I think a part of you wants to talk to someone else – none of that scripted bullshit – and I want to talk to you. Honestly, I think you’re pretty fascinating.”

He had been very tempted as ask you if you had a thing for villains, but he held off.

“You must be crazy if you find talking to me enjoyable. The other quacks can’t even stomach me, let alone stand to be in the same room as me for more than a few minutes. Just how fucked up are you really?”

You’d grinned and wiggled your eyebrows mischievously at him as you leaned back and spread your arms out along the back of the couch. “The only way you’re going to find that out is if you agree to talk to me. I don’t just give up all my secrets willingly you know.”

It was his turn to go quiet as he thought about your words over and over in his head, taunting him. He hadn’t been in any rush to leave the facility and go back to his old house, even if his mother and siblings were waiting for him. On the other hand, this was the most enjoyable conversation he’d had with anyone since coming to this white hellhole they called a hospital.

He figured maybe he would entertain you for a little while. If nothing else it would get you off his back.

You were lucky you were attractive.

The sound of your voice calling out his surname brought him back to the present.

“Mr. Todoroki?”

“… Fine.” He had finally relented. “We’ll see who you really are, and for fuck’s sake don’t call me that. I’m not my fucking father.”

“What do you want me to call you then?”

“D—” he stopped short. Was that his name any more? Did he get to call himself that after everything was said and done? It was the name he had given himself when Touya died all those years ago, but for some reason, saying it now just seemed wrong.

“…Touya.” He finally muttered. “Just Touya.”

You had smiled at him and for some stupid reason, it made his heartrate pick up. Just a little.

“Okay then. Touya it is. It’s nice to meet you.” You extended your left hand, and he had clumsily fumbled around for a moment before shaking your hand. As soon as your hands touched, and he felt the gentle pressure of your hand in his own, he was struck with the realization that this was the closest to human he’d felt in God knows how long. The other doctors that would come in and out of his cell treated him like he was some kind of feral animal, but you had extended your hand to him without any shred of fear or disgust.

Once you’d both settled back into your respective couches, he’d shrugged.

“So, what now then?”

“Now we talk I guess.”

“About what?”

“I think that’s up to you. The people who brought me in here didn’t specify what we have to talk about, but I am supposed to tell you that I can’t talk to you about the UA students, politics, current or former hero’s, or the League.”

Fuck. It didn’t seem like he’d be getting any answers out of you regarding his former group either.

“…fine. Ask away, I guess.”

To his surprise, you shook your head. “Can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I’m the one doing all the asking, then we’re only going to talk about things from my perspective, which isn’t the point. The only way this is going to work is if you talk to me first.”

That’d had thrown him through a fucking loop. Ever since he had arrived at the ward, all the doctors had done is talk at him, hoping he’d respond eventually. You may not have been a doctor, but you made for a better conversation then any of them ever did.

“…Well… Where am I supposed to start?” he’d finally asked, feeling like an idiot. To his immense relief, you’d simply shrugged.

Wherever you want. From the beginning maybe? It might be easier that way.”

He remembered swallowing hard. “Alright… from the beginning then.”

He remembers pausing and looking up at you, taking you in. “What the hell is your name anyways?”

You told him with a smile, and that was how it started.

For the next year, you came to see him almost every day.

He was taken to the same room where you were always waiting for him without fail at the same time every day. Even though at that point, he’d rather choke than admit it; he began to look forward to your visits – finding that they gave him a reprieve from his mundane existence at the mental ward.

He knew the doctors were always listening and recording everything you talked about during the hour you were together, but he found he didn’t care as much as you managed to keep the meetings interesting.

True to your word, you wouldn’t talk to him about current political events, or any news related to heroes (he knew better then to ask anyways), but you were open to chatting with him about anything that he wished to talk about, even though conversations were often hard for him to start – but you were kind and patient with him, more so than anyone had ever been to him for the majority of his miserable life.

He found himself growing found of you, the little smiles you give him when he’d sit across from you, bringing a hidden grin to his own lips, though he was quick to push it down, never letting his passive façade drop for more the a few seconds, lest his supervising doctors notice and assume shit, as they tended to do.

You may not have been a licensed doctor, but you helped him more than any of the ones who worked at the medical ward did.

There was a gradual shift in your relationship as time passed. Around the six month mark he could feel it, and he was almost positive you could too.

Your conversations had become more fluid, more casual. You were relaxed as you could be around him, and he found himself opening up more and more to you without being prompted. Most times he liked to keep the conversation light, but every so often, he’d tell you bits and pieces about his childhood – before everything had gone to shit. He never bothered telling you about everything that happened after Sekoto; he didn’t want to tell you about the years he spent on the streets, or his time in All For One’s medical center with the other children turned Nomu’s, and to his immense relief, you never asked him to.

In return for his openness, you rewarded him with tidbits from your own life growing up. You didn’t name anyone specific (he couldn’t fault you on that one), but you’d tell him about your childhood and some of the adventures you’d had when you were young, well into your teen years.

He learned that you were born an only child to your parents, raised in a caring household. All the idealistic, quaint things that he had wished from his own family. He’d told you as much one day, prompting you to laugh softly.

“Not always.” You’d told him quietly. “I had my own pressure on me when I was growing up. My parents and I fought a lot. We rarely saw eye to eye – they didn’t agree with a lot of choices I made when I was younger, but it was okay aside from that.”

“Still sounds like your parents were better than mine.” He’d told you with a bitter smirk. “My dad’s an abusive asshole, and my mom—”

It was then he realized that he struggled for words to properly describe her. Broken images from his fire fight with Endeavor had come back to him, and he remembered his mother’s fierce determination to try and cool him down – to save him – even as the heat was melting her flesh. She had thrown herself into the fray to try and stop him from ending it all without a second thought for her own safety. Up until very recently, he would’ve described his mother as weak and submissive, always bending to his father’s whims, even though he knew she didn’t have much of a choice back then, but now… that description didn’t seem to fit her anymore.

“—she used to be a doormat for dear old dad to walk over when I was a kid… but she’s changed. She’s a lot stronger than I remember her being.”

“I saw bits and pieces of your fight with… him.” You’d admitted quietly then. “I saw the aftermath. Your mom, your siblings… they all ran in to save you.”

He’d fallen quiet at that, not truly knowing what to say, but when he looked up again, you had offered him a gentle smile. “I’m sorry if this oversteps a boundary but… they never forgot about you Touya. Even if it felt like they did, they never stopped thinking about you.”

For once, he remembered being grateful that his tear ducts were permanently sealed shut, because he suddenly found himself in danger of crying. The tell-tale prickling behind his eyes caused his face to scrunch up as he pushed the thought of his mom and siblings down. He had quickly forced his expression to go back to neutral, and prayed that you hadn’t noticed the switch, but if you had, you didn’t comment on it – another thing he liked so much about you.

Instead, you asked him something that caught him off guard.

“Have you seen them? Your family? Since you were placed here?”

“No. Didn’t think they were allowed to come here. Why?”

“I think… maybe you should let them come see you – your mom and siblings I mean. Not you know who. I don’t think you’d be doing yourself any favours.”

“Why?” He remembers pressing you. “Have you seen them?” You’d shook your head.

“No, I’ve never met them, but I think it might help if you sit down with them and actually talk to them one on one. You must be getting so bored just talking to me day in and day out.”

“No!” he remembers saying a little too quickly, causing another one of those knowing smirks to creep up your lips. “I—no, you’re fine. I like talking to you.”

“Do you not want to see them?” you had asked him seriously. “Is it too soon? I understand if you’re not ready. That’s a decision you have to make on your own. No one can make it for you.”

“… I’ll think about it.”

Because in truth: there were things he wanted to say to them, and conversations he wanted to have.

In the end, it was you who finally convinced him to let his family visit. They had been cleared to see him at the faculty a few months prior, but he had always declined a visit from them, not wanting to see them so soon, since the last time they were all together had resulted in him almost melting his mother, Fuyumi and Natsuo.

There had been strict rules set in place for his family’s visitations: only one person could see him at a time so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed. they weren’t allowed to talk about outside events with him, and finally, under no circumstance was Endeavor allowed anywhere near the faculty. He was fine with his mother and siblings coming to see him if they wished, but he didn’t want his father to be anywhere near him.

He wasn’t ready to see him again so soon. Even after his apologies. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to see his father again.

Thankfully the faculty had minimal difficulty honoring his last wish, as it seemed that Enji didn’t want to be around him either – or maybe he was purposefully keeping his distance. Either way, the old bastard wasn’t around him, and he figured it was for the best.

Once again you had been right; seeing his family again had been as cathartic as it had been terrifying.

There had been tears (from his family – he still was unable to cry), and there had been a lot of long, overdue heart-to-heart conversations with them of things that should’ve been said long ago.

It had been hard to sit down and listen to each of his family members without feeling the intense urge to get up and run when the guilt became almost unbearable, but he had forced himself to sit through it all for their sakes (and even his own), and soon he found himself scheduling more visits with his family, as well as seeing you for your daily interactions.

You never prompted him to tell you how his now daily visits with his family went, but he’d told you anyways – not what was discussed, that would stay with him – but he had told you about his favourite visit. Hilariously, it had been with Shoto; something he never thought he’d ever say.

He’d told you about how Shoto had brought him lunch from the outside the day before. It wasn’t anything special; just piping hot udon noodles with vegetables in pork broth. They had sat down in silence and eaten together, sharing a meal for the first time in their lives. Nothing had been discussed, and yet everything had been said.

It had been nice. Comfortable, even.

He remembered telling you with a soft smile on his face, and you had pointed it out, causing him to scoff and wave you off.

“It’s better food then the shit they feed me in this prison. Seriously, that was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

“Well, once you’re cleared to leave, I’m sure you’ll be able to eat all the udon you want with your brother.” You’d told him as you tucked your feet under you. He’d shrugged, brushing you off, but you were ever observant, and had called him out on it.

“Do you not want to go back to them once you’re able to leave this place?”

It was a simple question in theory, but it wasn’t easy to answer.

He’d shrugged again. “Don’t really know if I can. Not after everything. I won’t go back if he’s there.”

“I don’t think they’d push so hard for you to come back to them if he was.” You reasoned with him gently. “Where would you want to go, if not there?”

You and your questions. Most of the time they were harmless, but sometimes they really made him think. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had an answer for you at that point, and you had quickly switched the conversation topic.

At that point, he’d be lying if he said he was thinking about what he’d do once he was released. Truth be told he hadn’t thought about it much at all. To him, it felt like he’d be in the psychiatric ward for the foreseeable future. He had no real plans for what he’d do once he was out. Maybe he would go back to his old house with his family, or maybe he’d try staking out on his own since that was what he was used to, if he was even allowed to go off on his own. He wasn’t sure what he’d be able to do once he was let out – but he certainly wouldn’t be free, he knew that much.

Maybe he’d try and reconnect with the League – assuming that any of them were even allowed to be released from custody.

It still bothered him on some level that he had no idea about what happened to them after the dust had settled. He had been carted off the battle field before any of them, after his attempt at going nuclear failed, and had been in and out of the hospital and the physiatrist wing ever since.

When he had first arrived, he’d asked the staff about what had happened to the remainder of the League, but they hadn’t told him anything aside from the fact they were alive – but he wasn’t sure how much of that he believed.

The only one he’d really trusted in the whole building was you. He knew you weren’t allowed to talk to him about any villains or heroes, but maybe if he asked you discreetly, you’d be able to tell him something more than what the medical staff had. He didn’t want you to get in trouble, but the curiously was eating away at him.

Finally, one day he risked it, and asked you if you knew anything about the fates of his former teammates.

You had paused after he’d voiced his question, and went quiet for a moment, seemingly debating on what you could say to him. For a moment you looked like you were almost about to tell him that you couldn’t say anything, but the look on his face must have been desperate enough that you cracked.

You had given the cameras in the room an unreadable look before sighing loudly. “I don’t know where they are exactly. I never looked into it, and it isn’t public knowledge anyways.” You told him gently. “What I do know is that they’re alive, and they’re in different treatment centers receiving help. I know they were beaten badly and some of your friends almost died – but as far as I know, they’re doing okay.”

You’d then sat straight back up on your chair and loudly proclaimed, “I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to say that much to him, right? Don’t take it out on him or me once we’re done here.”

It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but at least they were alive, and were in similar situations to him. It made him feel slightly less alone.

When the timer beeped shrilly, signaling that your hour was up, you had stood up to leave just as you always did, but before you could say goodbye to him, he’d quickly lunged forward and grabbed your hand, incasing it with his large cold one.

You’d stared at him in shock, as he’d never made a move to touch you once in the six months, you’d been visiting him, but before any of the guards could rush in and pull him off, he’d let your hand drop, but not before muttering a quiet “thank you” under his breath to you, before backing off and allowing the armed guard to escort you out of the room.

He distinctly remembers feeling the pressure of your small hand in his own, but he hadn’t been able to feel anything else aside from that. He hated it. He suddenly found himself hating that all of the nerves in his body had been severed, rendering him unable to feel anything. He couldn’t feel the texture of your skin against his own, or if your hands were cool or warm like his.

He was forced to admit to himself that for the first time since he’d left the hospital; he wanted to feel something again.

He wanted to feel you. But he couldn’t, and it aggravated him more than anything.

There was another thing he remembered distinctly about that day as you were leaving him behind: For the first time since you had started your daily interactions with him; you had looked back.

You had looked at him like you were seeing him in a different light.

He didn’t see you for a few weeks after that. When he had been pulled from his cell, and into the room where you usually met him, he was instead greeted by several doctors that had overseen his treatment when he first arrived.

He had asked them where you were, and when they refused to answer his question, he had immediately become hostile and threatening. The walls that were slowly starting to lower since he first met you went straight back up, and Touya turned into Dabi once more.

For the first time in roughly seven months, he lashed out (quirk be damned), and was immediately taken back to his room and put on lockdown. He wasn’t allowed visitors, and the only times he was allowed to leave his cell was to go back to the same room with the same doctors who poked and prodded him – asking him increasingly invasive questions, until he shut his mouth and refused to speak to them once more. One last act of defiance on his end since he still didn’t have use of his quirk.

When it had become apparent to the doctors and specialists that he refused to speak to any of them, they stopped taking him out altogether. He spent countless hours staring out the tiny window in his room, basking in the weak sunlight and taking in the menial views he could see from his window.

He had wondered where you had gone; if you had been forcefully sent away after he had asked about the League. He hoped that wasn’t the case – he liked you, probably more then he should if he was honest with himself – and you were just about the only person he could actually carry on a conversation with in this shitty place.

A few more weeks in solitary had him about to snap. He had reached a point where he was about to try and strike a deal with the overseeing doctors about bringing you back if he answered their shitty questions, when one of the armed guards opened up his door and guested for him to follow.

Once again, he had been taken back to the same observation room, but to his pleasant surprise; you were there waiting for him.

You had beamed at him and before he could think about what he was doing, he had crossed the room towards you in three long strides until he was standing directly in front of you. He had begun to lift his hand up towards you, only for his action to halted by a curt bark from the guard who was still standing at the door. You had shaken your head, motioning to the guard you were fine and sent him on his way. As soon as the door had closed, he rounded on you.

“You left.”

You had nodded, a small, sad smile on your lips. “I did, yes. Not really by choice though.”

“Why did you go?”

You’d barked out a laugh. “I’ll be honest, the supervisors weren’t too happy with me when I told you about the League. I broke one of their rules, so they told me I had to go for a bit.”

He’d narrowed his eyes, confused. “But now you’re back.”

You’d given him a slight smirk. You turned to sit down on your usual spot on the couch, but this time, instead of having him sit across from you, you’d gestured for him to sit beside you, which he’d done so embarrassingly fast.

“You’re very stubborn.” You’d told him with a light laugh. “From what I was told, you refused to talk to anyone after I left – heard you got downright nasty with some of the staff, and they put you on probation. They called me a few days ago almost begging me to come back. Guess they felt you made the most progress when you were talking to me.”

You’d given him a look that was hard for him to read. “Why did you snap at them?”

He figured there was no point in lying to you – you’d find out somehow. “Didn’t know where you went. Fuckers wouldn’t tell me, and they kept prying into my shit. Didn’t want to talk to them so they put me in solitary.”

He remembers you looking sad at his answer. “I heard you were in there for several weeks. I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to happen to you. Not on my account. I didn’t… I don’t want to be the reason your release got delayed.”

For some reason, it bothered him that you blamed yourself for what happened, and he reached out to gently take hold of your wrist. To his surprise, you hadn’t stopped him, or made any move to pull your hand away from his, so he allowed himself to rub circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, even though he couldn’t feel it.

“Not your fault. Don’t worry about when I’m getting out. It’s not like it really matters anyways.”

“Do you know why they were pushing you so much?” you’d asked quietly, still not making any more to remove yourself from his hold. He’d shook his head and you’d simply leaned into him, damn near making him freeze up in surprise at your boldness.

“They told me that they’re planning on releasing you soon – with restrictions of course – but they were thinking that you’d be able to leave here sooner than expected. That was before your outburst, but if you’re willing to just hear them out and answer their questions, it’ll help speed up the process.”

“They seriously think that I’m fit to send out into society again?” he remembers scoffing, hardly believing what he was hearing. “Pretty sure the majority of them think I’m an irredeemable sociopath.”

“They’ve seen the way you act around me and your interactions with your family. You’re not perfect, but you’re trying, and sometimes that’s all you can do.”

“You do realize I have killed people, right? I’ve maimed countless others. They’re… not exactly wrong about me.”

Surprisingly, you’d simply rolled your eyes at his statement, acting like he’d just told you the sky was blue. “Of course I know that Touya. I’m not overlooking what you did. But they—your family – are fighting hard to try and get you another chance, a fresh start. They think you deserve it, and they’re out there right now, day and night, trying to convince others that you deserve a second chance too.”

You had twisted your hand in his so your palms were kissing, fingers laced together, and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears as you gave him that damn smile of yours.

“You’re right: the past never dies, but that doesn’t mean that it has to be your future as well.”

That simple statement had stunned him. For the first time in a long time, he hadn’t had anything to say in response to you.

He remembers fighting an internal battle in himself, trying to find something to say to rebuttal what you were telling him. A part of him understood why his family was fighting for his uncertain future outside the psychiatric ward, but on the other hand… he didn’t necessarily believe that he deserved it.

What kind of life would he be able to have even if he was allowed to be released? He had never planned on living this long, as morbid as that was. His original goal had been to go out in a fiery hell-blaze with his bastard of a father, but clearly that hadn’t happened. He was known a global terrorist, the right-hand to the symbol of fear. His quirk was legendary for all the wrong reasons. How could he possibly be allowed to live on the outside? There was no way the rest of Japan wanted him released, let alone wandering around. What kind of future could he possibly be allowed to dream about? Did he even dare to think about it? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what he might do if he was ever allowed out of the ward from time to time, but now that his impending release seemed like more of a possibility; he was starting to think maybe it was better for everyone – and maybe even himself – if he stayed locked away.

Thankfully, you and your perspective nature had picked up his internal struggle. You’d leaned into him and taken his hand in both of your own, allowing him to breathe again.

“What do you want Touya?”

What did he want? Christ he wasn’t sure.

“I… don’t know. Honestly: I never planned on living this long from the get go. Everything has always been decided for me. I kinda figured that this would be the same.” He had admitted quietly, the gentle pressure of your hands on his own, grounding his rapid thoughts.

“Do you think you’re ready to leave soon?” You’d asked him gently, prompting him to laugh, a bitter, ugly thing, but you hadn’t flinched.

“No.” he’d admitted after a moment, scrunching up his nose. “Dunno if there’s much of a point. I’ll never be free. No matter where I go, I’ll always be a prisoner. What kind of life could I even have outside of here? I don’t know how to live any other way aside from how I’ve been living since I escaped that damn—” he’d cut himself off last minute, reminding himself that you didn’t know about All For One’s hellish medical facility he had woken up in, and he had no plans on telling you about that.

“I just…” he remembered breathing out hard through his nose as he tried to collect his thoughts, focusing on the faint heat he swore he could feel emanating off your hands and leaching into his cold skin. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if they decide to let me out. Dunno if I can go back to the old house after everything that happened, and I’m not sure if I could bring myself to live with my mom or my siblings after… well, you saw bits of what happened on TV already.”

He hadn’t needed to say it for you to know that he felt a tremendous amount of guilt towards his mother and siblings – especially Fuyumi and Natsuo – for nearly charring them in the heat of battle. He may have held onto so much resentment and anger towards his family for his mistreatment as a child, but he was also self-aware enough to know that it hadn’t been their faults, and they had tried to help him in the only ways they knew how.

You had been quiet as you let him vent to you. You hadn’t said anything for a while afterwards as you mulled over what he’d told you. Finally, you had nudged his shoulder with your own.

“I think that everything you just told me is proof enough that you deserve a chance to have a life outside of these walls.” You admitted. “What you said isn’t something an ‘irredeemable sociopath’ would say. That’s something a self-aware person says. You’re not perfect Touya, but Christ if you’re not trying. I can see it, your mom, sister and brothers see it, and I think a lot of your other doctors are starting to see it too. I think there’s a point, even if you don’t think there is.”

In that moment he’d been convinced that if he could cry, he would’ve been.

“Yeah? Well, thank you sweetheart.” He’d muttered into your hair, fighting hard with himself to try and keep his voice steady. “I have no fucking idea why you’re so nice to me, but it’s… yeah.”

“I think someone needs to treat you like a normal human being, because I don’t think anyone did for a long time.” You’d looked up at him pointedly, but he’d seen traces of something else in your eyes when you’d asked him, “Did they?”

A simple flat look from him had been answer enough for you, and prompted you to squeeze his hand. “Didn’t think so.”

You’d both lapsed into a comfortable silence aside from the steady ticking of the clock, and he’d known without looking up that your time with him was coming to an end. Now, he was dreading it more then he normally would’ve been. You’d spoken up again, but what came out of your mouth next, had shocked him.

“When you’re released… If you’re still unsure of where you want to go afterwards… I could… if you can clear it with the people overseeing your progress once you’re cleared to leave… Maybe… you could come stay with me.”

He remembered staring down at you, shocked. “Is that even allowed?”

You’d shrugged in response. “I’m not sure. I think you’re going to have to initially stay with your family for a while, but if you’re really having a difficult time staying there… maybe I could work something out with your family, as long as it’s approved. It’ll probably take a while, but I can try.”

He had a difficult time allowing what you were implying to sink in. How? How could you be so trusting? To even suggest the idea of someone like him staying with you? Forget if it was even possible or not, the fact you’d even offered in the first place was mind-blowing. Before he could think about what he was saying, he’d voiced his thoughts to you:

“I’m sure your parents would be thrilled, you bringing a villain back to your home.”

You’d simply given him a small smile. “I’m sure they wouldn’t like it… if they were around that is.”

“Oh. They not in the country, or—”

“We’ll go with that.”

Ah. Seemed like he wasn’t the only one with secrets. That was fair, you were allowed to have your own. He wouldn’t pry.

“Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t know.”

You’d both fallen back into the same silence from before. You were still leaning on him, his hand trapped in your smaller one, yet he’d made no move to remove it from your grasp. Honestly, he was shocked the guards from before hadn’t barged into the room and forced him away from you. The close proximity must have been violating a rule of some kind, and yet no one had made any move to separate the two of you, Maybe the medical staff really had been as desperate as you’d claimed, and were willing to let some things slide. Either way, he wasn’t complaining.

“You’re a lot colder than I thought you’d be… with your quirk being what it is and all.”

He’d glanced down at you, only to see you staring down at your intertwined hands. You’d squeezed the appendage again, prompting him to respond.

“It’s the quirk suppressors. Haven’t been able to use my quirk since before I got here. The quacks made it so I’m hopped up on suppressors around the clock, just in case. Turns out I’m pretty fucking cold without my flames. Must be from the ice side, but I can’t use that either.”

“Well, maybe if you keep being nice, you won’t have to be on them indefinitely.” You had tried to give him a hopeful smile, but he knew what the likelihood of that happening was, and you must have too, since you didn’t say anything else on the matter.

The timer had sounded then, signaling the visit was over. Before the guard could come to collect you, he’d quickly pulled his arm out of your grasp, and had wrapped it around you tightly, much to your initial surprise. He’d begrudgingly let you go so he could help you stand, sending the guard at the door a pointed look as he’d seen him casting an unsure look between himself and you. You hadn’t been the least bit bothered by the anxious glances the guard was trying to send you as you stood slowly and sent him one of your little smiles he’d come to expect from you.

“You’re coming back?” he’d blurted out before he could stop himself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time.” You’d told him confidently as you’d turned to leave, brushing your knuckles against his. “Don’t worry Touya. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time since someone had promised him anything in a very long time, he’d believed you.

In the end, you’d kept your promise.

It had taken close to another year before he was allowed to leave the psychiatric facility (some minor setbacks had pushed his initial release date back), but you had come to see him almost every day at the same time.

Over that time, you’d grown exceptionally close to each other, even more so from when you’d first started visiting him initially. It was almost impossible for him not to grow attached to you – you were his constant source of company, his companion. You were the one person he could tell anything to and not have to worry about being scrutinized for his thoughts. You were his safe space – something he’d never thought he’d ever say about someone else – and once he’d worked out how he saw you; it had been game over. He’d fallen for you fast and hard before he’d realized it, and by the time he did, it’d had been too late. He was hopelessly and utterly drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

Surprisingly, you’d felt the same as him.

You’d openly admitted it to him one day near the end of his stay at the ward – even at the cost of possibly being prevented from seeing him again, since both of you knew you were crossing boundaries you hadn’t been meant to cross. He’d warned you as such, heart pounding in his ears at your confession, but you’d told him that he’d deserved to know with a simple shrug.

“Besides; if you keep up the good behavior and don’t have any more outbursts, you’ll be out before the end of the year anyways. Even if they don’t let me back after this – you can find me on the outside.” You’d told him matter-of-factly, boldly taking his hand in your own, before sending a shit-eating grin to the cameras set up around the room – knowing the doctors were monitoring every move.

He'd been certain that he could’ve kissed you right there and then.

Surprisingly, the medical staff had allowed you to continue coming back, even though it was apparent both of you cared for each other in ways that crossed professional boundaries. As much as the doctors were against how close the two of you had become, they couldn’t deny how far he had progressed since meeting you. He had gone from being the bitter, angry husk of a man, to someone who was still, and would always be forever scorned by the past, but overall, in a better place mentally.

Not too long after he’d sorted out his own feelings for you, he’d made you a surprising request:

He wanted you to meet his mother and siblings.

The meet up had taken almost a month of careful planning on the medical staff’s end, and had initially been met with some hesitation on both sides, but eventually you had agreed to it, and you’d sat down with him and the members of his family who he kept in contact with.

His father hadn’t been invited for obvious reasons.

The medical staff had allowed him out of his normal room so he could meet with you and his mother and siblings in one of the spacious sitting rooms normally reserved for guests. A row of floor to ceiling windows lined the far wall, allowing him to get a view of the outside gardens. He remembered the outside weather was slightly overcast that day but warm rays of sunshine would occasionally stream through the gray clouds, as you and his family slowly met with one another under his watchful gaze.

His mother had taken to you almost immediately, as well as Natsuo – both seemingly happy he’d bonded with someone who was relatively normal – Fuyumi and Shoto had taken a little more convincing. Shoto was more curious of you, while Fuyumi had been downright distrustful. She’d asked you right off the bat what your intensions were with him, but he’d seen right through her: she was concerned that you were somehow affiliated with the now disbanded League, or maybe even the Paranormal Liberation Front.

Thankfully, you weren’t so easily put off by her upfront questioning. You had been calm, almost amused, as you answered her questions; reassuring her that you were in no way affiliated with any criminal organizations, and how you were someone who’d been presented with an opportunity to help with his rehabilitation, and had taken a leap of faith when no one else would.

“Why though?” he remembered his sister pressing you. “Why would you want to help him even after knowing everything he’s done?”

You and him had shared a look then, and he’d known what you were thinking before you said anything.

“I guess I wanted to understand why things went so wrong.” You’d told her honestly, your shoulder brushing with his as you spoke. “I wanted to get his side of the story – the unscripted one. When the chance to talk to him in person came up, I took it. Everyone deserves to have their story told, and I wanted to hear his.”

“You’re a lot closer than just a support person to him.” Fuyumi had countered, making him bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping at her to back off with her invasive questioning, knowing that he’d only land himself in trouble with the medical staff overseeing their visit if he had any outbursts.

To your credit, you’d simply shrugged, totally unbothered by her statement. “Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you see someone basically every day for over a year. Same time, same place. For as clueless as he is at normal relationships, your brother can be pretty charming when he wants to be.”

He’d been pretty sure the only reason you were outright lying to his sister was to try and make him look better in her eyes, but he almost hadn’t been able to stop the laugh that threatened to escape past his lips. Almost.

His sister had almost deflated then. Whether it was from disappointment in being unable to shake you, or relief, she’d simply nodded; finally accepting your answers.

“Well… if he’s happy… then that’s all any of us really need, I guess.”

The rest of the visitation had gone incredibly well, not that he was complaining. Plans for future meetings had been put in place, and from there, you and him had gotten into a semi-regular routine of seeing his mother and siblings, or whoever was available to come.

He never wanted to admit it to you, but the visitations you helped arrange with his family made his transition from the psychiatric hospital to his eventually moving into his mother’s new house after he’d been cleared for release, far smoother than he thought it would’ve been.

Eventually though, he was proven right about his earlier assumptions on living with his family – or rather – his mother and his siblings, again after so long:

He couldn’t do it. It felt almost wrong.

He’d felt like a ghost, wandering up and down the halls, looking at the pictures that lined the hallways of his mother’s house; comprised largely of his younger siblings. He’d watched as they had slowly grown up in each one, filling him with sense of melancholy.

He’d missed the opportunity to watch them grow up. They’d done that without him. That was time he couldn’t get back – memories that weren’t there.

He’d felt isolated, and no amount of comfort or reassurance from his mother could change that deep-rooted feeling in him. Not even Natsuo’s constant presence in the home made him feel better, much to his younger brother’s disappointment, though thankfully he understood.

He’d lasted two months before he’d finally cracked and called your number which you’d given him immediately after he was released. You’d both stayed in contact, texting every day (under strict monetization from police tech sectors), but you hadn’t been able to see him in person since he’d gotten out, as you’d both agreed that it would be better if he focused on trying to settle into his new home. He’d missed you terribly during that period – not used to not seeing you for such a long period of time.

He'd called you in the dead of night, and asked if your offer to have him come stay with you was still open. From there, you’d gotten in contact with the authorities in charge of his release to try and gain permission for him to come live with you, while he had the difficult task of trying to explain to his family why he couldn’t stay with them any longer than he’d already had.

As expected, you’d been met with resistance on both sides, but eventually his overseers had come to an agreement: he would be allowed to live with you, but he always had to have a tracking monitor on at all times, he had to be on constant quirk suppressors, he couldn’t leave your building without you and a Pro hero escort of some kind, and finally, he had to attend mandatory therapy sessions at least once a week, as well as call his probation officer weekly and give them updates about what he was doing. If he failed to meet any of the rules set out for him; he’d earn himself a one-way ticket to Tartarus, no questions asked.

As much as he’d wanted to argue some of what they wanted from him, he’d agreed to their stipulations, knowing full-well unless he agreed to their terms, he’d be stuck at his mother’s for the rest of his life, and while he didn’t hate living with her and his siblings, it was too awkward for him to try and face them every day, knowing his past atrocities towards the rest of the country and even them, would continue to haunt him for the rest of his days.

He couldn’t pretend that he was still the same person he was when he’d burned up at the tender age of thirteen. He was different, older, harder. Things would never be able to go back to what they’d once been, and honestly: he didn’t want them to. He couldn’t go back to living with them after such a long time apart, because he had no idea how to co-exist with them normally.

Thankfully, as much as he knew it hurt his mother to hear him express his innermost thoughts, she seemed to understand how he felt the most, and had simply told him that he was always welcome in her home, and she still wanted him to come stay with her from time to time.

“You’re my son Touya. No matter how old you get or no matter what you do, you’ll always be my baby.” She’d told him gently just before he’d left her house, wrapping him into a tight hug.

Sometimes he found himself grateful he couldn’t cry anymore. He’d just wished this side of his mother had been more prominent over ten years ago. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently if it had.

He’d seen you then for the first time in several months when you’d come to pick him up. He’d managed to keep himself calm while you spoke to his mother, but secretly he was elated to see you again after months apart. His excitement over seeing you again had probably shown on his face, since you’d made it a point to keep yourself close to him as his brothers had moved his important possessions into your car.

It was as you were talking to his mother; he’d learned that you had moved to a new apartment building some weeks ago, following the news that one of Japan’s former most wanted was coming to stay with you. Naturally, the people in your old building hadn’t been pleased, so you’d forced to switch buildings to an apartment located near several hero agencies, where the residents hadn’t been as concerned about an ex-super villain moving in, due to the multitude of patrolling heroes in the area. The change had been frustrating for you, but it was the only way he’d be able to stay with you without anyone kicking up too much of a fuss.

Eventually you’d both been on your way back to your apartment with Shoto in tow to help with moving his things into your apartment. Your new place wasn’t massive, but it had two bedrooms and a decently sized living room and kitchen. Shoto had helped him set his things up in the spare bedroom before departing, but not before giving you his number with instructions to call him if you ever needed help.

As soon as the door had shut, he’d been on you.

He’d slammed you up against the door, causing a started yelp to escape your lips, as he grinned down at you wolfishly.

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Nervous? It’s not like we haven’t been this close before.”

You’d turned beet red as you shyly traced your fingers up his chest. “No, but we certainly haven’t done this.”

He’d grinned as he dipped his head down so you and him were eye to eye. “Tell me no then. Tell me you don’t want this, that you don’t feel the same as me.”

He’d listened to your breath hitch, watching with delight as the flush deepened on your cheeks. “You wanted me to talk right? To be open with you about how I’m feeling? Well, I want you, and I think you want me too.”

You’d looked up at him through your lashes, reaching up to lace your hand around his neck. “I do.” You’d told him gently, and your simple admission had made up his mind.

“Fuck.” He’d muttered, just before he’d dipped down and captured your lips with his.

The effect had been instantiations. His lips molded with yours, breathing in your air, as his hand cupped your cheek, long fingers curling around the back of your neck to keep you close to him.

You’d slowly peeled yourself off the door and grabbed at the collar of his shirt, pulling him with you further into the apartment, and into your bedroom. You’d managed to slam your door shut, just before he’d pushed you onto your bed – his lips never leaving yours as he pressed you further into the mattress.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you as you helped him take your clothes off. He could touch you, really touch you the way he’d wanted to for so long now. Nothing was there to hold him back, no cameras, no guards, no medical staff dictating his every move. It was just you and him.

He’d almost froze when he’d seen you’d laid out bare beneath him, soft and glowing against the pale sunshine streaming in from your bedroom window, warming your frame. You’d beamed up at him, tracing your hands up his arms.

“You can touch me.” You’d told him gently. “I trust you. Just be gentle.”

Gentle. Now that was a word he was certain he didn’t have in his vocabulary – but for you, he’d try.

He’d traced your curves gently, listening intently as your breath hitched, or how a small moan would escape past your lips when he touched a particularly sensitive area. Finally, you’d reached up to tug at the hem of his shirt, but he’d grabbed at your hands, making you pause.

“It’s not… I’m not… the scars… aren’t much better under there.” He’d tried to warn you. You’d given him a gentle smile, cupping his cheeks with your hands.

“I don’t mind Touya. You know I don’t care about all that.” You’d smoothed your thumbs over the raised skin of his face. “I love you for you. Regardless of what you look like.”

Love. You… you loved him, didn’t you? Even after everything he’d done while he was an active criminal – you’d somehow grown to love him, while most of the world hated him.

He didn’t necessarily think he was deserving of your love, but hell if he was ever going to point that out to you. He’d almost been tempted to ask you if you were a little bit crazy yourself, but you’d even told him when you had first met that he’d have to find that out for himself.

Maybe you were – just a little bit – but that suited him fine.

A normal girl would never have been able to handle him anyways.

He’d allowed you to help him out of his clothes then, and to your credit, you hadn’t batted an eye at the less than perfect skin covering his body. He may not have been held together by surgical staples anymore, and his body may not have been a mess of burnt patchwork skin like it used to be, but the new skin grafts were raised and patchy – never fully settling properly. It wasn’t often that he got self-conscience about how he looked, but you were different.

You had run your hands up and down the length of his body and marveled him like he was some work of art. He didn’t think he was, but you clearly saw him differently. You’d kissed his marred skin, and if he’d been able to cry, he would have.

You had pulled him down onto your bed and climbed on top of him, much to his surprise. He’d tried to prop himself up, only for you to gently push him back down onto your mattress, giving him a knowing smile all the while.

“Let me take care of you.” You’d whispered to him softly. “We’ll go slow. Gentle. It’s just me and you now.”

It wasn’t like he’d never fucked someone before, but it had been a while, and it was just that: he’d fucked, never loved. He wasn’t sure if he knew any other way when it came to sex, but he knew that he didn’t want to be rough with you like he’d been with his past flings, and so he had relinquished control to you.

He had allowed himself to relax into the mattress as you’d hovered above him, lining him up with your entrance. He was already painfully hard, his body reacting to yours as soon as he’d kissed you. You’d bent down to kiss his throat, relishing how he’d let out a shuddering breath as you’d sunk down onto him. He’d cursed as your tight heat had enveloped him, leaving him boneless and shaking.

He’d brought your face down to his to kiss you as you started moving, moaning as you slowly moved up and down on his shaft. You’d knocked the breath out of his lungs as you whimpered against his lips, still moving your hips against his own.

“Shit.” He’d growled as he’d reached up to wrap an arm around your hips. “Fuck baby. You feel so good. You’re so good for me.”

“You feel so good.” You’d sobbed. “I want you – want to make you feel good.”

“You do. Fuck you do. I want you. I need you.” He’d grunted as he planted his feet into your bed, pistoning his hips up into your body.

“Fuck.” You’d cried out, as you continued to bounce on his cock. “Touya!”

“I’m here. Fuck I’m here, with you. I love you.”

He’d remembered your eyes blowing wide at his confession, just before your body had stiffened up, and your mouth had opened up into a silent scream, as your orgasm had ripped through you – your end triggering his own.

You’d both stayed there for a moment, trying to regain your breath, before you’d slowly separated yourself from him. He hadn’t let you go far – pulling you down to lay beside him, and wrapping himself around you as you nestled into the broad expanse of his chest.

“Stay.” He had rasped as he held you close to him, curling around your smaller frame protectively. He’d known what he was saying was nonsensical – he was in your apartment, you weren’t going anywhere, not really – but thankfully, you seemed to understand what he was trying to say without him outright telling you. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere Touya.” You’d breathed, placing a kiss on the side of his temple. “You’re home now. With me.”

That simple sentence had brought him more comfort than he’d experienced in recent memory. He’d passed out sometime after with you still nude and curled into him, sharing in his warmth.

That had been the best sleep he’d had in years.

After that, he’d fallen into a steady routine of normalcy with you. You’d go to work, while he’d keep himself entertained during the day. Normally, he’d open up the windows in your living room and perch himself on the couch near them, soaking up the feeling of gentle sunbeams on his face, and watching the outside world go by as he waited for you to return later in the evening. You had set up therapy appointments for him every Thursday, and either you or Shoto would take him depending on your schedules. Life settled down, and the outside world continued on around him, even though his world now consisted of your apartment and what he could see outside from your windows.

It wasn’t a coincidence that three pro heroes moved into the building roughly a month after he had moved the last of his menial things into your apartment.

He couldn’t say that he was surprised by the less then subtle way the newly reformed hero commission chose to keep an annoyingly close watch on him, but he was still allowed some freedoms with you, so he figured he could keep his jabs to himself for the time being.

All and all, life with you was simple easy. For the first time in his life, he could say he was appreciating the little things he never could’ve before his life had turned into a living hell.

For the first time in a very long time, he had hope – something he’d never allowed himself to have before, because what had been the point? He had fully planned on taking himself out in the final fight against Endeavor… but life was strange, and it turned out that it had different plans for him.

While he couldn’t be sure what those plans were yet, they had brought you to him, and that was enough.

He had you, and in the end, that’s all that really mattered—

-----

The sound of one of his skin care products hitting the floor snaps him out of his reprieve. He blinks, and once again, he is standing in your bathroom with the sink running, halfway through the skin maintenance routine that you forced on him once he came to live with you.

He swears under his breath as he bends down to retrieve the plastic tube with his right arm, only to freeze as he suddenly remembers:

His right arm is gone. He tore it clean off in the brawl against his dad.

He finds it surprising how often he forgets he doesn’t have both his hands anymore. Half the time he swears that his right arm is still intact because he can feel the damn thing, only to look down and see it’s still gone from mid bicep down. You once called it a ‘phantom limb’ and he thinks you might be onto something with how often he’ll go to do something with his right, only to remind himself the arm doesn’t exist anymore.

It doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. Natsuo had offered to set him up an appointment to get him fitted for a prosthetic, but he hadn’t made up his mind on it yet – finding most things pretty manageable even with the lack of his right arm – but he does have days where he wishes he had all of his limbs, and there are certain tasks were having two hands would be more useful than one.

His extensive skin care routine is one of those tasks.

Hilariously, it was one of the conditions of him coming to stay with you initially: for the first time in his life, he was being forced to look after himself.

He had protested initially when you had come back home one day with a plethora of different specialty products for sensitive skin – not seeing the point – but you had insisted that he use them to take care of the newer skin grafts, telling him that if he wanted to continue to stay with you, he’d have to start properly taking care of himself, or you would do it for him.

He had begrudgingly accepted, and he gradually incorporated it into his daily routine. Realistically, he knew he didn’t have much to complain about: he didn’t have many responsibilities as it was, and you had promised him if he kept up with it, you wouldn’t tell his parole officer that you weren’t forcing him take his quirk suppressor medication – one of the conditions of his release.

He grins inwardly to himself as he turns the sink off and pats his face dry. You hadn’t seen the need to enforce that particular rule, seeing how you were quite confident he wasn’t going to burn down your apartment building, and he didn’t have any plans to – lest he be forced to return back to his mother’s home.

Besides, after spending over a year feeling unnaturally cold without his quirk, he was in no rush to return to the weak, powerless state the psychiatric ward had left him in. Even if he couldn’t use his quirk to it’s full, destructive potential like he used to, just knowing that he still had use of his quirk intact was a comfort to him.

He makes his way out of the bathroom, flicking the light off behind him and, pads over to his side of your shared closet, stripping out of his sleep clothes and pulling on a loose shirt and baggy sweats, before heading out into the small living room.

If his younger self could see how he lives now, he’s sure he would’ve turned his nose up in disgust before calling him a sell-out, and a gnarled part of him still thinks that to some level, however; when he thinks back to how he used to live on the streets for close to a decade, he’ll take the easy, comfy life-style you allow him to live in your home in a heart-beat.

He used to wonder about where he would get his next meal – now his biggest inconvenience is that he’s bored whenever you’re not at home. How the times change.

He turns on the T.V. and sets it to a low volume as he moves into the kitchen and opens the fridge, pulling out a few miscellaneous items and setting them on the counter, before getting to work on prepping the food.

He doesn’t eat much, even now his metabolism is still messed up from the years of cumulative damage his body sustained, but he found himself making food for you when he first moved into your apartment as a way to keep himself occupied while you were at work. Most of his cooking attempts consist of cup noodles, and whatever else was easy to make, but every once in a while, he’d put a bit more effort into what he made, so long as you had the ingredients for it.

He curses to himself as he painstakingly prepares an easy meal of miso soup and yaki, his lack of a right arm slowing down his progress. Eventually he finishes his meal prep and puts his creation away as he waits for you to come home, moving to his usual spot by the window on your living room couch, before sitting down and indulging in some mindless reality T.V. show.

He watches the show absentmindedly, barely paying attention to what’s playing on the screen as he basks in the warm sunlight streaming in from outside. He glances over to his left to see his reflection staring back at him from a hanging mirror across the room, and has to fight the urge to flinch at what’s staring back at him.

Even after all of the love and tenderness you allowed him to experience while living with you, he still looked rough, and there were days where he felt it more than others. He may not have been able to feel pain in the normal sense, but his body aches constantly and there are additional issues he deals with daily.

He’s painfully aware that he probably doesn’t have a lot of time on the earth. He’s in his late twenties, too damn early to be faced with his own mortality, but he knows there’s no use in trying to dance around the subject. With his body being what it is, he’d be surprised if he made it to fifty, but he knows better than to voice that out loud. The one-time he had confessed his inner thoughts to you, you had damn near burst into tears, and he found that he couldn’t stand to see you like that, so he keeps his morbid thoughts to himself.

The sound of the apartment door opening snaps him out of his depressing reprieve. He looks up, only to see you closing the door to the apartment, hanging your keys up and kicking your shoes off. He gets up off the couch and pads over to you, greeting you with a little smile.

“You’re home early.”

You turn around to face him, smiling. “Yeah, I finished early today. Figured I’d come back and see what you were up to.”

He snorts as he takes your bag from you, setting it down on the small bench you had set up near your front door. “Not much, you know that. S’not like I can leave the building without you or Shoto escorting me.”

You roll your eyes, gracing him with a teasing smile. “How is he anyways? You talked to your family at all recently?”

He shrugs. “Not really. You know my phone usage is heavily monitored anyways.”

“I told them that – your mom reached out to me recently – she was hoping to meet up with you for lunch soon, and she hadn’t heard from you in a bit.”

“Ah. I don’t look at my phone very often. Tell her that I’m down. I’ll reach out at some point.” He nods towards the kitchen. “I made dinner.”

You beam at him. “You didn’t have to do that.” You lean in to press a kiss to the rough skin of his cheek, and he feels his heart speed up in his chest. Even though the physical affection you gave him isn’t anything new, it’s still amazing how much of an effect you had on him.

The fire that he keeps buried in his chest flares to life as you turned away from him briefly, but he doesn’t let you go far. He snakes an arm around your middle, pulling you back to him, causing you to look up at him.

“I’ve missed you.” He mumbles quietly into your hair. You simply wrap your arms around his torso and snuggle into his chest.

“Missed you too.�� You tell him quietly. He swallowed thickly, as he allowed his hand to splay further down your back.

“I really missed you; I mean.”

You smile up at him gently, wiggling your eyebrows. “Did you now?”

“Mmmm.”

His hummed response causes your grin to grow wider. “Wanna show me?”

He doesn’t humor you with a response – instead opting to take you by the hand and lead you towards your shared bedroom with teasing grin of his own. He allows you to kick the door closed behind you, before dipping down to bite on the skin of your neck, causing a giggle to escape your lips as his hands wander up and down your frame.

“Off.” He grunts, tugging on your clothes. You smirk at his demand, pulling at the hairs at the nape of his neck to get him to look at you.

“I think you could ask me a bit nicer, right?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Please.”

“That’s better.” You smile sweetly at him, separating yourself from him long enough to shimmy out of your pants and strip out of your shirt, leaving you in your bra and panties before him.

He kisses the back of his teeth as he closes the distance between you, wrapping a muscular arm around you as he captures your lips with his rough ones. He feels you sigh into the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck.

It wasn’t often that he initiated physical contact like this – he not shy by any means, but he’s not used to having such close relations with another person. He’d been a loner for such a long time after escaping the hospital, and any physical contact he somehow managed to receive from woman he’d met in sketchy bars during those miserable years had never been meaningful or fulfilling. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

But you wanted him, and you weren’t shy about letting him know just that.

He had no problems letting you remind him of the latter.

He feels your hands travel down from around his neck to the bottom of his shirt, tugging on it. “Off please.” You murmur against his lips, and he separates from you long enough to yank his shirt off, before coming back to embrace your soft body with his own hot one.

He presses you back against the bed, gently pushing you down to lay on the mattress as he hovered above you. He dips back down to seal his lips with yours, as he feels your fingertips trail down the rough skin of his stomach until they reached the waistband of his sweats. He smirks as he feels you undo the drawstrings and push them down his slender hips, pushing them down low enough for his cock to spring free.

“Seems like you’re just as eager as me.” He sniggers as he sits up long enough to shuck them off, giving you a moment to unhook your bra and toss it across the room.

You don’t humor him with a response as you sit up to stroke his cock, causing him to hiss as your fingers wrap around his shaft. He lets you have your way for a moment before gently pushing you back down onto the mattress, causing you to look up at him quizzically as he shakes his head.

“Not today babe, let me do the work.”

He feels his heart pound in his ribcage, as a look of realization passes over your pretty features. A smile pulls at your lips as you open your arms and beckons him down to you, which he eagerly accepts. He nips and kisses the skin of your neck as he makes quick work of your panties, causing you to moan softly as he runs his fingers up the length of your dripping slit.

“God.” He groans as he attacks your lips again. “So, fucking wet for me. You want me, right?”

“Yes Touya.” You breathe against his lips, allowing your fingers to trace patterns into the scarred expanse of his back. “Always. Always you.”

He feels his destroyed tear ducts sting slightly at the sincerity of your confession. Even though you’ve assured him you only want him countless times before, it was something he never quite got used to hearing.

The entirety of his life before you was spent in fire and hardship. Kindness was something foreign to him, and being allowed to be vulnerable with another person was something he never even considered. He never thought he’d live long enough to be able to do so regardless – accepting that he destined to spend what was left of his life alone – and so the thought had never crossed his mind.

But he wasn’t alone. Not anymore. Not since you had unexpectedly come into his life.

He had you. Body, mind and soul, he belonged to you. He knew there was no way he would ever have the words to tell you that, so he hoped that he could convey his message clearly enough by showing you just how much you meant to him.

He taps your leg, getting you to wrap your legs around his lean waist, as he lines himself up with your opening. You thread your fingers through his soft white spikes as he slowly begins to push himself into your pussy, causing you to whimper as he begins to stretch your walls out.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He growls as he bullies his way into your tight heat. “You’re perfect for me. Just you – you’re the only one I want.”

“Me too.” You gasp as you dig your nails into his shoulder to ground yourself. “I’m so glad I got to meet you. S-so glad you’re here with me—”

Your eyes open impossibly, as he suddenly snaps his hips forward and drives himself home deep inside your walls, causing you both to moan. He barely gives you any time to recover before he starts moving. He fists his hand in the sheets beside your head as he focuses his energy into keeping his thrusts deep and strong, just how he knows you like it.

He grins down at you almost sadistically, watching as your eyes roll back from the force of his thrusts. “S’matter? Don’t tell me you’re giving up already?”

“N-no.” you moan as he gives you a particularly hard thrust. “I just—oh, fuck!” you wail as you feel him hit a practically sensitive spot inside you, causing him to grin wickedly.

“Eyes on me gorgeous.”

“You’re mean.” You huff, but center your attention on him regardless, causing him to chuckle, and reward you with another harsh thrust.

“I know.” He practically purrs as he shifts his weight to his knees. He grabs the meat of your hip, and starts pounding you harder than before, making you keen and fist your hands into the sheets as his pelvis brushes up against your clit deliciously.

“Fuck, Touya! I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum!” you cry out, warning him of your impending release, but it only makes him double down and fuck you harder, determined to see you climax before him.

“Yeah? Well, go ahead sweetheart: come on this cock. C’mon, c’mon; I know you’re going to, I can feel you squeezing me just right, so do it. Let go for me pretty girl, just let go.”

He feels your walls convulse around him and your back arches slightly off the bed as you climax with a desperate cry at his words. The sight of you coming undone beneath him is so hot it does him in a few strokes later, spilling deep inside your walls with a feral growl of his own.

You both stay like that for a few minutes, fighting to catch your breaths, before you unlock your legs from around his waist, allowing him to pull out of you. He pulls back to grin at the combination of your fluids that leak out from in between your legs, and you roll your eyes. He makes a move to the bathroom to grab you a towel, only for you to shake your head.

“Later.” You murmur, as you pat the spot on the bed next to you. “Come lie with me for a few minutes.”

He laughs quietly at your antics, but obliges your request, and climbs over you to collapse into the vacant space on the bed next to you, and you don’t hesitate to move over to him.

“God, you can be relentless sometimes.” You pant as you curl up into his side. He simply snorts at your assessment as he drapes his arm around you protectively.

“Maybe. I am a villain after all sweetheart.”

“You were.” You manage to grumble as you make yourself comfortable, eventually settling on resting your head on his chest so you can hear his heartbeat. “You’re not now.”

“Yeah, well. Attitude never changed. Surprised you put up with me for as long as you did.”

“You weren’t so bad.” You murmur softly, tracing shapes into the rough skin of his stomach. “If I thought you were, I wouldn’t have come back after we first met.”

“Why did you come back after the first time anyways? I can’t remember if you ever told me.” He suddenly raises his head so he’s looking at you. You meet his blazing turquoise irises with a calm gaze of your own and wink at him teasingly.

“I’m crazy remember?”

“Must be, if you came to see one of Japan’s most wanted almost every day for damn near two years straight. But seriously, why?”

You’re quiet for a moment before you answer him. When you do, you shift your head slightly on his chest so you can see his face better.

“I suppose it’s because all your rage… all your anger towards the injustice of everything you’d gone through up until that point… it reminded me of myself, in a way.” You admit softly, causing him to quirk a snowy brow at your confession.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things you said on your initial broadcast—" you continue on before he can ask. “—like how there were a lot of shitty things about hero society you weren’t wrong about. Honestly, for a long time there, I felt just as pissed off with some of those so-called “Pro’s” as you. Some of them were only doing it for the money and fame, you could tell.” You exhale through your nose.

“But, on the other hand, there were so many good things happening to change those problems that you didn’t see because you were on the outsider.” You fall silent for a moment before adding:

“You just seemed so hurt, so raw with everything you were saying. I told myself there and then, if I ever got the opportunity to meet you, I’d show you not everything is as bad as it seemed. Never thought I’d get the chance honestly, and yet, one day, the opportunity to meet you face to face practically dropped into my lap. How could I not take the offer?”

“Was I what you’d thought I’d be?” he finds himself asking you, not completely sure if he wants to know the answer. You simply send him one of your glowing smiles that sends tingles down to his stomach.

“No, you were better.”

He snorts, shifting his arm so he’s tracing his warm fingertips up and down your nude body. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m serious. Even now, you’re doing so much better with handling everything then I thought you would. You’re resilient, and you adapt when you need to, but you’ve definitely changed… in a good way. You’re not as hateful anymore… you’re calmer, more accepting.”

“Yeah well, the shrinks have you to thank for that. Far as I’m concerned, they don’t do anything. I just see them so I can stay with you.” He grumbles, prompting you to giggle, before shifting you so you’re lying on your sides, facing each other.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, inwardly softening as he watches you lean into his warm touch, before dropping his hand back down in between your bodies.

“I know I’m not very good at these sorts of things, but… you know I love you, right?”

He’s hopeful that you understand. He doesn’t say it often to you, and he knows he probably should, but even after all the time he’s spent with you, that involves you showing him what a healthy relationship looks like, it’s still not an easy thing for him to say. Hell, he has a hard enough time saying it to his own mother, let alone anyone else.

He’ll probably always have a difficult time admitting it. Love is an emotion he’s never had a good understanding of, seeing how it was so sked for him a s a child. Even now, the concept is a foreign one for him to understand, but thankfully, you seem to be more aware of this than anyone else.

You find his hand with one of your own and lace your fingers together, squeezing it tightly.

“I know Touya. I’ve always known.”

FIN

#dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya x reader #touya x y/n #touya x you #post war!au #mha x reader #bnha x reader #dabi x reader smut #touya todoroki x reader smut #tw: mental health #see a03 for more detailed tags

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nrdmssgs · 11 months

Text

John Price x reader (friends2lovers) part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Pairing: Price x civilian afab reader

Summary: John fights his demons in the middle of the night, and you are clearly not helping. He doesn't mind, though.

Warnings: smut (under cut), kissing, body worship, oral (f receiving)

AN: Ok, apparently i'll need another part to end this one. Sorry guys, I tried to keep it clean and short, but I've failed. Price is still a big caring softie here.

Thank you for patience, dear @fruitymoonbeams-blog I hope, it was worth it.

“I thought, we had a deal. Something about you not working at my place?” His voice is still gruff after sleep as he stops behind the couch, but you don't even flinch, keeping reading and highlighting some text at the bottom of one of your documents. “I just need to review these contracts before next week,” you answer, not paying much attention to John. “Besides, I had enough sleep this day, hey—” He takes his reading glasses off your face and picks you up off the couch. “You are going to sleep.” He isn't event asking you, it is statement. You desperately grab a fist full of papers, before he carries you to your bedroom.

You ask him, why was he up in the middle of the night anyway, and he stiffens. “My brain chose violence today.” He gently lays you down on the bed and brushes a stray of your hair out of your face. “Nevermind... You know, what the real question is, though? Why did you steal m` bloody glasses? Old age hit you suddenly? Cant see a single freaking letter, granny?”

“Oh, shut up, you old bastard.” You reach out to grab his glasses, but he catches your hand mid-flight. “You're not getting those back, darling. But if you want your bedtime stories so bad, I can read them to you.” He takes the contracts from you, walks around the bed and lies down on the other side. "Where did you stop? On a tale of ... “repaying forfeits procedure”?" You nod and make yourself comfortable, resting your head on his shoulder.

He reads your contract in a quiet and calm voice. You ask him a couple of times to mark something in the text, but very soon your eyelids become heavy. When your breathing calms and deepens and you no longer comment on his reading, John sets aside the contracts and turns off the bedside lamp. He lies in the dark for a while, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your back. He takes in every second of this peaceful heaven: the silence, your barely audible breath, the warmth spreading through his body from where your cheek touches his chest. That moment of calm was worth stealing you away from the rest of the world for a few days.

He embraces you and shifts his weight to put you on a pillow. Before releasing his hand from under your head, he freezes, admiring your face. When you fall asleep, the wrinkles in the corners of your eyes, appearing from concentrated reading, smooth out. Price loves moments when your face is so relaxed. He leans down and whispers "Sweet dreams", barely touching your forehead with his lips. This is not even a real kiss. He wouldn't dare.

And just when he is about to move away, he hears your muffled voice. “You missed, Price. My lips are right there.” Your words catch him off guard and paralyze his mind. He doesn't move, doesn't even breathe for a few long seconds. His face still looms over yours as you slowly open your eyes. John can't believe his ears, so he searches for an approval in your soft gaze. You brush your fingers against his torso, your touch is light and not really demanding of anything. But for him, a warmth of your skin piercing through his shirts` fabric is everything that makes any sense right now. John looks down at your lips, closes his eyes and sighs. “Don't do this to me.”

As soon as you hear his words, your hands fall down on the bed. “I've misread.” Your voice does not change, and this phrase sounds just as warm and relaxed. But he can feel your pulse quicken and your face going warmer with an embarrassed blush. "No... No, you got it right." He moves back a few inches to see your entire face. "I want it. I dream about it. But I don't want to fuck up… our friendship. Can't afford to lose you.”

You stare at him confused and he proceeds. “I don't want one-night stand, I make a shitty “friend with benefit”... and even if you be so merciful to let such a duffer in your life - I don't want to drag you into the chaos of my work. I want to keep you safe from my problems. So there is no possible scenario—”

He stops talking, when you cover your eyes with your hand. “John…” You sigh heavily, massage your eyes, and move your hand away from your face. “Do you remember that time a few years ago, when your wound didn't heal properly, and you ended up in a hospital on Christmas?” He nods and squints slightly. “Of course, I remember. I ruined your vacation that time. You were supposed to sunbathe somewhere, and instead you kept visiting me in that hellhole.”

“There was no vacation.” The words escape your lips with a sad smile. “I haven’t taken any days off for a long time so that I could rush to you if anything happens. And every time you leave, I practically settle in my office only to run away from thoughts about you. I don't even know if I ever see you again, every time you get deployed. And as much as I hate the feeling, I chew it up. I am already not safe from your problems, Price…”

His deep blue eyes slowly widen, his face becomes more serious and dejected as he slowly remembers all the times when you came to help or take care of him, motivating this with lack of other plans. A heavy silence hangs in the air. He slowly and carefully hugs you, draws you closer and presses his lips to the top of your head. "Putting you through all this, not noticing anything. Guess, I'm just a bloody ignorant idiot." You feel him pulling you closer, hiding you in his hands.

“This is not an ignorance, John,” you smile, although sound somewhat bitter. “It's your way of… well, living through all this. And if you want to keep things this way - I won't cross any lines. Can't afford to lose you too. So… how about we forget this, meet tomorrow morning and go on enjoying our friendship?”

“No.” His lips are grazing over your forehead and down your cheeks. “I'm not forgetting this tomorrow.” A warm kiss is pressed against the corner of your lips. “And if you allow, I'll make you remember as well.” His hand cradles your head, fingers sink into your curls. Despite his soft touch, you can feel his skin burning, as his thumb brushes over your cheek. “But… only if and as long as you let me.” He doesn't move, waiting for your consent.

“My lips are still right there.” You almost feel something cracking and melting in his mind, as he hears your answer. John leans in and your lips meet. His first touch is gentle, even reserved in a way. As if he desperately holds back, trying to not scare you off. A second kiss feels almost the same: cautious and discreet, despite his lips linger a bit longer on yours. But when he kisses you for a third time, everything changes. He lets out a barely audible sigh, holding you by the back of your head, his tongue barely brushing the softest skin of your lips. This one is longer, much longer, as you respond to his movements, and he closes his eyes, losing himself in the feeling.

He feels as if the time itself stood still. You are right there, in his hands, alive and so warm and welcoming of his touch. And it wasn't one of his feverish dreams, because this time he actually felt your joyful eagerness to feel him closer, to embrace him tighter. He forced himself to pull away and pressed his forehead against yours. "If you don't want it, if you change your mind at any point - just say a word. Please, don't let me go on if you don't—”

You cut him off with another kiss. Hungry and long. He moans breathlessly into your mouth, his tongue parting your lips, his hands clutching around you. You feel how desperate his body for your touch is, how he shudders just when your fingers brush over his jaw. His muscles flex as he shifts his weigh, now looming over you. Your fingers slip under his shirt to run up from his stomach to his chest, meeting tense muscles radiating with heat.

“John, are you ok? You are burning…” You manage to ask, when his lips leave yours for a brief moment. “Your fault, love”. Price answers in a low, tad shaky voice, gives you one more kiss on the lips and moves down to your jawline. Every next touch is less discreet. There is hunger boiling deep inside him. And it starts spilling out, when your fingers tighten on his back. Kisses along your neck are intoxicating, tongue leaving a hot wet trail from under ear to collarbone. It's when you feel his teeth as well. You clench your teeth and sharply inhale.

John changes his behavior instantly. The place where just a second ago you felt the dangerous proximity of his teeth is now covered with kisses. "Sorry, love. It won't be this way, I promise." His voice is quiet, but you feel every word, reverberating through your rib cage, as he speaks pressing lips to your skin. You babble something, trying to reassure him, explain to him that you are not afraid of bites of him losing it, but it is useless.

“I need to say something.” His hand tucks under your shirt, fingers stroking your belly. “You drive me crazy. I've been dreaming of you for so long.” The fabric of your shirt is being slowly dragged up. “And I will do anything you want. Anything. As long as you let me be gentle to you this time.” His warm palm stops under your breasts, fingers a few inches from the most delicate skin. He knows how to make you dream about his touch. And he's not shy about using it. “If you ever wish to be with me again - it's no limits then. But this time… Please, I need it. I need to take care of you.” You nod, ready to agree to anything, as long as he doesn't stop.

He releases you from the shirt, and you are lost in his touch. His fingers and lips don't leave your body even for a split second. He whispers countless praises. "This." His warm breath rolls over your chest, teasing your nipples. “This is what I wanted to taste for so long.” His lips are soft against your breasts, he can't help but roll his tongue against your hardening nipple, ravishing in your quiet moans, moving to the other, while covering the first with his fingers. He takes his time. John maybe promised you to be gentle, but he never promised to not linger on every single inch of your beautiful breasts, tailored by mother nature so perfectly, looking so delicious.

You feel the heat spreading through and taking over your body. He's just started with you, and you are already drunk on his kisses, begging for more of him under your heavy breaths. “Patience, love. You'll get anything you ask for, but first.” He moves his hand between your thighs and gasps, feeling your soaking wetness. “Oh, poor thing, I was too caught up in a moment, didn't think you were that desperate already.” The warmth of his tongue trails down your body. “Don't worry, love, I'll make up for that.” Your panties slide down, as he pulls them. You clench your thighs together, as you are almost on the edge already, and you are a bit embarrassed to show him how painfully you need his touch, how much you crave him.

“Just a little taste, please. I'm starvin here, love,” he whispers in a raspy voice. “You are so unbelievably beautiful, you smell like heaven. I have to taste you.” You clutch at the sheet, trying to resist his voice. So John takes your hand and kisses the tips of your fingers, then gently runs his tongue over them. "I'll be very gentle. Just like this." His touch sends an electric shock through your body. You suffocate in impotent attempts to resist your desire and give in, whining. He doesn't take his eyes off you, and a satisfied smile blooms on his face. He places a few long kisses upon your sleek, before parting your glistening lips with hot tongue.

At the first touch of his tongue, tears burst out of your shut eyes. He's not just good, he's incredible. Long slow strokes from the bottom to the most sensitive spot on the top. His fingers squeeze your thighs, leaving red marks on them. He promised to be gentle... Well, his tongue is gentle. And persistent. John does not hide his pleasure, he groans, slurping against every drop of your juices. You hear every movement of his tongue, wet and slippery sounds filling the room. This only seems to spur John on. He does not leave you for a second, taking all control over your body and going on and on.

"Please... I can't hold back any longer!" You try to be more restrained, quieter, but all your attempts fail, and you just beg him to stop before you reach the peak. "Hold back? Why did you decide to hold back in the first place?” He chuckles, looking up, his voice croaky. You try to answer something articulate, but fail ultimately. “Love.” He smiles mischievously. “I want your release.” His finger slowly slides and curls inside. “I need your release. Stop holding it back.” He again clung to your cunt, caressing your swollen clit with his tongue. He didn't stop for a second, though he moaned at every wave of shivers that ran through your body. You yourself didn't know, your body could feel that good. You just lost yourself in his touch, in his hungry caresses.

Your peak washed over your body in several powerful waves. Your back arched and the sensation of his touch sent your mind spiraling, zeroing out all the sounds and colors around you. You were lost in time and space. You didn't know, how much time you've spent almost unconscious, all you knew was that you when your eyes opened again - you were in his hands. He cradled you in his hands and was not covering your face with small tender kisses. “My girl. So good to me. So sensitive. So goddamn tasty. Absolutely divine little thing.” He cooed as he kept kissing every inch of your face, gently rocking your body in his hands back and forth.

When you opened your eyes, he kissed away the last tears rolling down your jaw and smiled. “Thank you, love.” His blue eyes looked wildly beautiful with blown pupils. You found his lips, kissed him with all the gratitude and tenderness that you were capable of at that moment. As he answered on your kiss eagerly, you whispered. “John, I need you inside. Please… Please!”

His blue eyes fluttered open. He kept looking at you. "Are you sure?" his voice was quiet and deep. "Please!" you grabbed the edge of his shirt.

Without letting go of you, he sat up in bed. Your thigh gently brushed against something large, something hot and barely pulsing. "Please remember that you can stop me at any time." Desire mixed with apprehension in his eyes.

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celiciaa · 7 months

Text

ELBERT GREETIA EVENT STORY....

EPILOGUE.

His pet doll.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

trigger warning: smut, vore(?) ( i've been feeling uncomfortable when i was working on this chapter, but i'm posting it for those who's curious about the ending...please proceed with caution 🫠)

minors and ageless blogs dni.

Elbert: ….Even if your appearance and form change, you are still beautiful….I'm lustful for everything about you.

Elbert: …So I want to eat you...show me everything.

Elbert: …Just only for me. ….Kate.

Lord Elbert's fingertips took off the doll's nightgown/negligee,

It makes me look the way I was born.

Elbert: ….Kate, come here.

Kate: ….Lord Elbert. Ah…

He holds me in his palm and presses his lips to my naked body.

He licks every part of my body, and his caress is the same as always.

The feeling of being loved makes my body melt more and more into a lewd manner.

He sucked my breast with his lips, and I couldn't help but cry out on Lord Elbert’s hand.

Kate: …It feels good…Lord Elbert….

Elbert: …Cute.

Elbert: …. I just want to put you in my mouth…and eat it.

Elbert: ….I wonder...if I eat you, we can be one...

(…..)

His crazy love that lurks behind the tenderness and his bottomless greed that drives his desire.

(I want…to be one with you. I want you to take all of me.)

Kate: All right...if that's what you want, Lord Elbert.

Kate: …Eat me…

Elbert: ….Kate.

Lord Elbert’s thin lips parted as he gently lifted me up, wrapping me in cotton.

(….Really...just like that?)

Lord Elbert’s tongue lapped my toes.

Kate: Aah….

Then he takes me in his mouth, all the way to the base of my legs.

The temperature of his luscious mouth and the immoral feeling of surrendering one's entire life to him made my whole body go numb with sweetness.

After biting softly and sweetly, Lord Elbert stopped, feeling reluctant.

Kate: …Lord…Elbert?

Elbert: …I wish I could eat every strand of your hair….

Elbert: It's too good to waste...so I won't eat it yet.

Kate: …Too good to waste?

Elbert: Yes. I'll eventually eat all of you...after you stop breathing.

Kate: Ah, Lord…Elbert….

Elbert: Kate…look, you’re dripping on my hand.

I’m soaking wet because I want Lord Elbert's heat.

Normally, I would like to have him inside me.

Kate: …We can't become one tonight. ..How I wish I could make Lord Elbert feel good too….

Elbert: …Kate, don't look so sad.

Elbert: …Just looking at you is more than enough…

Lord Elbert removed his belt...and pulled "it" out.

Elbert: I'm already feeling good….

I want that between Elbert's legs, I want to satisfy him, I can’t help but feel heartbroken.

We looked at each other as if sharing the same emotion and smiled at the same time.

Elbert: …I want us to look at each other like we always do when…we are connected.

Kate: …Yes, me too. I want to…do it too. …Together.

Lord Elbert used his hand to stroke himself.

Elbert: Hm…ah…

Elbert: Kate…Kate…

Kate: …Lord Elbert…

Elbert: …Kate…

The way Lord Elbert stroked himself while staring at me made my heart flutter.

As if being moved by the sight of Lord Elbert, I also sink my fingers into my wet area.

The wet squelching sounds resonated between us.

(I don't care if things don't go back to normal.)

(But...I want to mingle with you..as one.)

I couldn't get enough of those blue eyes staring at me.

Kate: I want to kiss you…Lord Elbert...

Elbert: I want to kiss you too. …Kate.

Kate: Hnn…mm…

When we pressed our lips together as we both desired, Lord Elbert seemed surprised and suddenly pulled away.

Elbert: …Kate.

Kate: …Lord…Elbert?

Elbert: …

Elbert: You’re back…to normal.

(Eh…ah!)

Reflected in Lord Elbert’s blue eyes, I was back to my original form.

Kate: How all of a sudden….

In fairy tales, a sleeping princess awakens with a kiss from a prince.

But there's no way something like this could go back so conveniently...

Then, to my surprise, Lord Elbert hugged me.

Elbert: …It doesn’t…matter.

Elbert: …As long as you’re by my side.

This time, we kissed each other as if we were fighting for breath, and tangled ourselves on the bed.

Lord Elbert licked and bit all over my body and…

Kate: Aahh…nnn…

He sank himself between my legs.

There’s the stimulation that makes me go crazy when he penetrates my body.

Kate: Haa…aah…it feels so good…Lord Elbert.

Elbert: …Me too. …Kate…

Kate: …Yes….

Elbert: …I love you.

Kate: I…love you too.

——

As I have returned back to normal, my days with Lord Elbert pass without any change.

The only thing that has changed is that Mr. Roger has captured me as research material.

After completing my role as a subject, Lord Elbert and I arrived at a deserted flower garden.

(Lord Elbert stopping Mr. Roger from trying to draw my blood...was kinda cute.)

(You’re a little violent to be so loving even though you're angry.)

Elbert: …Why are you smiling?

Kate: Just remembering when you were stopping Mr. Roger.

Elbert: …This is no good.

Kate: Eh?

His hand slides across my cheek.

Elbert: Don't laugh and smile when you…think the others.

I was surprised by his words, and then I was so charmed by him that I loosened my lips,

Lord Elbert smiled as much as I did.

Elbert: …I was lying. I just like your…smiling face.

Elbert: But...when we're together, don't think about anyone else.

(Ah, jeez….)

My cheeks stretch slightly while my chest feels warm.

Kate: It is more difficult to think of others when I’m with you.

Elbert: …Me too.

Elbert: …I’m only thinking about you.

A gentle breeze sweeps Lord Elbert's golden hair.

Lord Elbert had been staring at me while I was weaving a flower crown,

He suddenly parted his lips.

Elbert: …What would you do if I became small?

Kate: …If Lord Elbert becomes small.

Just imagine how lovely it would be.

Kate: Fufu, I might just eat you up.

Elbert: ….

Elbert: …I want to eat you too…what should I do?

Lord Elbert, who muttered as if he was deeply troubled, was so endearing that I couldn't help but smile again.

That strange day when I was small taught me something important.

(Whether our shape and form change, nothing can change our love.)

Kate: …I'm sure nothing will change.

Elbert: …I see.

Elbert: …I'm glad I fell in love with you.

Kate: ….Yes. Me too.

Kate: I'm glad I fell in love with you too.

I placed the blue flower crown on Lord Elbert's head.

The sight of my lover smiling in front of me was the most important thing to me today.

▸ [ previous ]

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikemen series #elbert greetia #ikevil elbert #cybird #ikevil translations

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velovw · 9 months

Text

Benevolence’s Dance.

Synopsis: Amidst war's chaos, a dance of deception and kindness unfolds, testing compassion and deceit in the enigmatic system of Ramattra.

a/n: I wrote this in the spam of 2 months, slightly proof read. I was inpired by @ya-zz to write, shout out to their work and blog!

Pairing: Ramattra x reader.

Words: 6k.

In the realm of war, where ethics often surrendered to harsh conditions, Ramattra found himself making choices that defied conventional morality. He understood that sacrifice was an inevitable companion on the treacherous path to ensuring the triumph of his kind. His conscience bore the weight of this decision, not out of remorse for your sake, or the humans, but rather from a profound awareness of the potential suffering it would inflict upon Zenyatta - a potential sense of distrust between both Omnics.

Despite his master's constant preaching about the redeeming qualities of humans, Ramattra remained unconvinced and quite frankly, uninterested. To him, humans embodied a multitude of negative traits. Whether it was their inherent selfishness and arrogance or their self-destructive tendencies and inability to see beyond their own interests, humans appeared as a cruel force, gradually destroying all other forms of life, including their own. Ramattra believed that such a destructive way of existence warranted a demise filled with agony and suffering.

Ramattra harbored a profound disdain for you, a prominent figure in humanity, renowned and idolized not for your achievements or righteousness, but merely by virtue of your birth into a royal lineage. What aggravated his contempt even further was the knowledge that your family held the purse strings of the human armies, funding their weaponry and enticing more soldiers with promises of treasures should they emerge victorious in battle.

Such acts were undeniably cruel, and it was this very cruelty that absolved the omnic of any remorse for his own planned actions. His intentions were merely a reciprocal response, employing the same cruelty he had witnessed.

While anticipating your arrival at Zenyatta's temple, Ramattra endured a tormenting impatience that consumed him like a smoldering fire. Normally cold and calculated, he found it arduous to masquerade as a warm and amiable omnic in your presence. This endeavor proved to be far more challenging than resorting to brute force alone. No, he needed to orchestrate a scenario that would position you perfectly vulnerable to the imminent omnic onslaught.

And what better setting than the annual Royal Parade? How fitting it would be for that event to mark your final breath. Born amidst adoring gazes, you would now perish while those very same gazes converted into terrified ones.

Ramattra's audio receptors swiftly detected the frenetic movements of the Omnics converging upon the temple gate, abruptly interrupting his contemplations. Rising from his seated position, he deliberately left his staff behind, believing that relinquishing his weapon would signify his harmless intentions. The notion of appearing defenseless and amicable, a façade he never thought he would desire, became his utmost priority — albeit solely for the sake of a human.

With measured and cautious steps, Ramattra swiftly closed the distance between himself and the designated room where you would briefly reside. And there you stood.

The royal figure stood before him, adorned with a breathtaking elegance that left no doubt of your exalted status. The attire exuded opulence and refinement, each element meticulously chosen to embody luxury and prestige. You were adorned with extravagant jewelry, sparkling like constellations against a midnight sky. Diamonds and gemstones cascaded from your neck and head, shimmering with every movement, reminiscent of a celestial adornment befitting a Goddess. The jewels almost blinded Ramattra from how many there were. He had heard tales of the royals, this was the very first time he was laying his optics upon one other than a picture.

"This is Ramattra." – Zenyatta's familiar voice rang out across the room.

As you turned your gaze towards Ramattra, his optics swiftly fixed upon your face, capturing the sight of a seemingly gentle smile gracing your lips. It was a smile he knew all too well from the countless pictures he had seen. A smile that bore an artificial veneer of gracefulness, devoid of genuine emotion — a lesson he had learned all too keenly from other humans.

"Yes, it is my pleasure." Ramattra spoke out slightly awkward.

"No need for formalities, this is a big step for us. Having you on the parade will give hope to the people."

The unfamiliar timbre of your voice immediately registered within Ramattra's system, prompting him to store it in his memory banks with meticulous precision. It was a precautionary measure, a means to identify you amidst a buzzing crowd of thousands, should fate spare you from the fatal blast of the Omnic's weapon. He understood the seriousness of being able to discern your presence, for it was only then that he could ensure your demise befittingly and without error.

"Yes, undoubtedly so."

Amidst the gravity of the situation, a subtle amusement flickered within Ramattra's circuits. The irony of human trust and its inherent vulnerability to deception captivated his thoughts. How astonishing it was to witness the depths of your newfound trust, oblivious to the perils that lay within such unwavering faith. To him, you remained an enemy, an adversary cloaked in a façade of friendliness.

Behind Ramattra's impassive faceplate, a flurry of electrical impulses raced through his system. With seamless efficiency, your appearance, voice, and location were transmitted to his awaiting army, a cloaked process that would remain concealed from your awareness until your final breath.

"Are you nervous?"

The unexpected inquiry about his well-being momentarily caught Ramattra off guard. He had not anticipated such a concern from the likes of you, as it seemed to be quickly swept aside as trivial small talk. To him, it was a display of the human inclination to engage in seemingly meaningless conversations, an attempt to forge connections and establish bonds—an endeavor that he found to be nothing more than a futile and foolish pursuit between the two of you.

"Why would I?"

With a hint of mocking laced beneath his voice, Ramattra asked a simple question. As he tilted his head slightly, he observed your eyes visibly flinch with discomfort. A spark of satisfaction ignited within him, relishing the fact that he had unsettled a royal figure, someone who, among many others, should exude confidence and poise. Your gaze swiftly averted from his, revealing your unease—a subtle triumph for Ramattra to wield power over someone of your esteemed status.

However tempting it was to revel in your fear, Ramattra knew that his primary focus remained on the task at hand. There were more critical matters to attend to, and right now, that meant earning a small sliver of trust from you. With a subtle clearing of his throat, he skillfully redirected your gaze back to him, making sure to have your full attention before he spoke.

"Although, I definitely appreciate your presence. It is… calming."

Striving to rectify his momentary slip of hostility, Ramattra wracked his circuits for something, anything that could salvage the situation. Over your shoulder, he caught sight of Zenyatta offering him a small nod, clearly pleased to witness his attempts at befriending a human. Ramattra couldn't dwell on Zenyatta's presence for too long, for the weight of guilt washed over him in waves, each one reminding him of the forthcoming future. It pained him to acknowledge that he would cause Zenyatta harm, albeit indirectly, delivering a blow that would undoubtedly wound their bond.

Ramattra was not oblivious to the caring gazes and the tender voice Zenyatta reserved for you. Witnessing the way Zenyatta walked with you around the temple, explaining the intricacies of an Omnic's life—their struggles and joys—left Ramattra bewildered. How could Zenyatta, fully aware of your family's involvement in the war, be so trusting and open, seemingly embracing vulnerability like a naive fool?

The Omnic could not fathom what you might do with the information you gleaned from Zenyatta. The thought gnawed at him, fueling his uncertainty and deepening the growing sense of suspicion towards your intentions. It seemed incomprehensible to Ramattra that Zenyatta willingly exposed himself to potential exploitation, and he grappled with understanding the nature of your interactions.

"I'm glad, Ramattra. I know of our differences, but I'm eager to make amends."

Your voice was soft, a small smile grazing your features as you spoke towards him.

Lies.

As much as Ramattra desired to believe that you were different from the rest of your kind, he found it nearly impossible to reconcile that notion. The fact that you shared the same blood, lived among humans, and were raised and educated alongside them only intensified his bitter disdain. His circuits pulsed with a surge of animosity, yearning to obliterate you in that very moment. However, the temptation of the unfolding spectacle soon to come proved too enticing to ignore. The message he would convey through his act would resonate loudly and clearly, leaving no room for doubt or ambiguity.

"I am also eager for our plans."

After a brief pause, Ramattra spoke, his head nodding subtly as he maintained an upright posture, emphasizing his full height. In response, you approached him, your hands folded in front of you, an expression of respect. Then, with a gracious gesture, you lowered your head in a bow, acknowledging Ramattra's presence and silently thanking him.

The act of bowing was a gesture typically reserved for interactions between royals, yet you chose to bestow it upon Ramattra, driven by the recognition of the pain and suffering inflicted upon him and his army by your own family. In that momentary pause, you held the position, emphasizing the amount of your respect. Only after a few seconds did you return to standing tall, a faint smile playing upon your lips as you met Ramattra's gaze.

In your eyes, Ramattra sensed a twinge of pity, mingled with an enigmatic emotion he couldn't quite grasp. Perhaps it was a hint of regret, whispering softly in the depths of your gaze. Though the meaning made him curious, he chose to let the thoughts drift away, redirecting his attention to the present moment.

"I'm sorry, for everything." — Your voice was barely a whisper. "But, I hope this can show my change of heart."

You felt a pang of disappointment as Ramattra only nodded towards you, his gaze swiftly turning to his brother standing nearby. It was clear that expecting his complete trust was nothing more than a naive hope. Suppressing a sigh, you concealed your disappointment, not wanting to reveal your true feelings in response to his indifference.

Your gaze shifted towards the clock in the room, noting that the Royal Parade was fast approaching. Soon, you would be required to board the open carriage alongside Ramattra, an action that would carry a profound message. It would serve as a visual testament, showcasing the shifting perspectives of the royal families towards Omnics. Despite the potential loss of supporters and financial resources, a small part of your family had come to understand your viewpoint. They now recognized that Omnics were not merely soulless machines, but beings with shared qualities and complexities akin to humans.

"Your highness, It is time."

As the familiar voice of your devoted maid filled the room, it served as a gentle reminder to return to the present moment. She walked towards you, her skilled hands delicately tending to every detail of your jewelry, ensuring its flawless alignment. Her eyes, filled with admiration, traced the contours of your silk ensemble, her careful touch gently smoothing the fabric, bestowing an extra touch of elegance upon your divine presence.

"Yes, of course! Please follow me, Ramattra." — you gave the auspicious Omnic another small smile.

"I'll be right behind you."

The meticulous process of preparing you for the carriage ride, with every intricate detail attended to, undoubtedly tested Ramattra's patience. His desire was to expedite the proceedings and get things underway. Yet, when he finally took his seat beside you, beholding your presence, an unexpected pang of sympathy stirred within the omnic. He couldn't help but feel a sense of sorrow for you. Your last moments would be marked by pretense and artifice, a facade meticulously crafted for the sake of your loyal followers, offering them a fleeting illusion of closeness to their revered figure.

Unbeknownst to those present, farther along the carriage route, two stealthy Omnics had skillfully eliminated the guards in the vicinity. Armed with a lethal sniper rifle specifically designed to neutralize even the most formidable of Omnics, their intentions were clear: to ensure your swift demise. There would be no opportunity for rescue, no chance to let out a scream. The weapon they possessed was overkill, but its purpose was unwavering — to ensure that your life would abruptly and definitively come to an end.

"Don't worry. No one will harm you in any way, I made sure the security was stronger this Parade."

It was quite comical, to have you say that without the knowledge of his plans.

"I am grateful." – Ramattra replied simply.

As Ramattra's gaze remained fixed in the distance, not even sparing a glance in your direction, a wave of unease washed over you. It wasn't that you believed he harbored ill intentions towards you, but rather the uncertainty of whether you had made a good impression. The realization that impressing the leader of the Omnics was a skill you were never taught added to your growing anxiety. Years of learning to embody grace and gentility, always wearing a smile regardless of the circumstances, had been ingrained in you solely to please humans. Now, faced with the presence of Ramattra, you found yourself grappling with the unfamiliar challenge of leaving a lasting impact on an entirely different species.

Never were you taught on how to amend wrongs that weren't even your own doing, but you had to try.

"Is there something I can do to make you feel more comfortable?"

A simple question hung in the air, and Ramattra couldn't help but be intrigued by its underlying significance. After all, he was already comfortably seated within the fancy confines of the royal carriage. There seemed to be no reason for discomfort or unease. And yet, the question lingered, leaving him puzzled as to its true intention.

"You feel as if I'm uncomfortable?"

"Yes. You seem distant."

Ramattra couldn't help but emit a scoff, his gaze finally shifting to meet yours. Though his face remained hidden, you could sense a subtle annoyance emanating from him. It was a response, however, and even a hint of irritation was preferable to the void of indifference.

"Why do humans always ask pointless questions? What is it to you?"

His voice came out sharp, slightly letting go of his facade of comfort.

"Because I care. You may not believe it yet, but I'll try my best to show it to you."

"I think your kind has done enough."

Silence.

The only thing Ramattra could hear was the soft humming of his cooling fans, trying to get rid of the overload in his system. Hostility.

As Ramattra gazed down at you, he could discern a palpable sense of disbelief reflected in your eyes. Your once-relaxed posture had now tensed, and he realized that he had indeed made a grave misstep. Your face turned away from him, staring ahead with a regal defiance, chin held high. Another scoff escaped Ramattra's lips as he, too, averted his gaze, fixing his eyes on the front. Even in moments like these, your pride remained unyielding. The thought infused Ramattra's system with an overwhelming distaste for your character.

Unbeknownst to Ramattra, your actions of turning away were not driven by pride, but rather by an attempt to regain composure. The insult inflicted upon you struck deeply, especially considering your sincere efforts to make amends and distance yourself from your family's beliefs. By deviating from their approval and creating a visible rift within the royal family, you had hoped to convey a clear message of your individuality and desire for change. In that vulnerable moment, you had believed that Ramattra's willingness to participate in the parade alongside you held a deeper significance—an acknowledgment of your sacrifices, separate from the influence of your lineage. It was a fleeting hope, and the realization that it might have been misjudged left you feeling disheartened and powerless.

Though tears threatened to spill from your eyes, you fought against them, determined to maintain composure. Allowing yourself to cry would only heighten the discomfort, not just for yourself, but also for Ramattra. You couldn't risk your supporters, who came to see you in the Parade, who stood by your side in this ideological battle, witnessing your vulnerability in tears. It would undermine the meaning and significance behind your cause, and a sense of futility washed over you, intensifying the weight of the situation.

"Did you lie?" – You prompted.

"About what?"

"That you thought my presence was calming. You said so earlier."

Despite your best efforts to maintain a firm tone, Ramattra keenly perceived the slight difference in your voice, an indication that you were holding back your emotions. However, he chose not to point it out, allowing the unspoken understanding to hang in the air between you.

"I did not."

"Then why does it feel like you still see me as a threat?"

The question you posed had a simple answer - because he still did. But Ramattra had to work his system quickly, trying to come up with a lie, with anything that would make you feel less insecure about sitting beside him.

"We have been killing each other for months, even years. Do you expect a simple Parade to fix your kind wrongdoings?"

It left you speechless momentarily, but you knew he was right. You would be lying to say that you didn't feel afraid of him slightly still, but you were trying to power through it. But that didn't mean Ramattra felt, or thought, the same. He was different. Had different opinions and choices. While thinking about the image you two would give out, you consequently had forgotten to think about how he felt.

You had asked questions about his comfort, but not about his true feelings.

"I'm sorry."

A sigh escaped your mouth as a hand came to pinch your temple, a small headache forming from all the stressful thoughts.

"You're right. This doesn't fix anything." – you continued.

"Quite the opposite. Omnics might think I'm playing lap dog. Bowing down my head in respect for the ones that killed and persecuted us without remorse. Treated less than animals."

Ramattra was quick to let his feelings known, not shying away from using drastic and accusing terms. Part of him felt angry and bitter towards this talk, but another part of him felt… free from speaking his honest thoughts. For him, you were caught up in a delusion that Omnics were less. And to change that would be hard, no matter how willing you were to show that.

"I'm sorry." – You whispered softly.

Naturally, one of your hands went to rest on top of his own, a comforting motion that you had learned ever since you were young. Ramattra didn't take kindly to your touch, quickly removing his hands from yours roughly, his hinges pinching your skin slightly as they moved away.

"You people think saying sorry will bring back brothers and sisters I've lost? You're selfish, egocentric, the only thing you truly care about is power. Having control over everything."

His words felt like razors, and they hurt more than the aching of your skin where he had accidentally pinched you. Your hands rubbed over the spot, trying your best not to show any form of pain in front of him. Somehow, it felt selfish to do so when he was clearly in a much worse state of pain than yours. Tormented by the war and the things he had seen.

Even if his words were hurtful, you knew he needed to get them out, to express his disdain to you. So whatever relationship you two would create would be free of resentment and misunderstanding. So you simply sat by him, nodding along with his words. Somehow, the jewelry on top of your head felt heavier than before – like it was there due to his kind destruction.

"I understand."

The words that left your mouth left Ramattra speechless. He didn't know what to feel, but mainly, he felt rage.

"Understand? Do you truly, your highness?"

"Yes. That's why I'm here, to try and make amends. No matter how hard it might be."

Ramattra could only scoff once again, in disbelief at your complete state of ignorance. There was no fixing the deaths that your kind had caused, the treatment of omnics as slaves and mere objects.

As the carriage began to move, it was clear that soon the both of you would be under the watchful eye of your admirers. It wouldn't be a good look to have such a heated question in front of them, and even if Ramattra disliked it, he knew it was true. So he simply turned away from you, his cooling fans working to relax his body so he wouldn't appear as stiff.

After all, he shouldn't be seen as a threat. Not for now, at least.

On your side, you made sure to keep your head held high with a smile on your face as the people started appearing in your view. The light of the sun blinded you for a second, but that didn't stop you from doing your duties.

The city was buzzing, and as soon as the people saw the carriage, they started cheering. A happy look on everyone's faces as they witnessed the change you had promised them unfold, even if it only was the start. Ramattra felt slightly out of place, sat next to you, with a crowd of humans staring at him with… admiration? The change was eerie, he was used to being looked upon with fear, disdain or disgust for his actions. It slowly set in his systems that Ramattra had never seen humans stare at him in such a way, even you, during your first meeting with him, showed respect that was saved especially for royals.

As the carriage kept moving, the decorated route pathway got more and more excited with how friendly Ramattra seemed to be. Even if it wasn’t entirely true, it wasn’t an untruth, he really didn’t know what to do in this situation. So he only kept staring at the humans, giving small head nods everytime his optics made contact with human eyes.

Gazing towards Ramattra, it was borderline adorable how confused and lost the Omnic seemed to be. It was a good change of attitude for him. He almost seemed afraid of the change, but it only proved to you further that he had a good heart - or well, system. It only made your view on Omnics further concrete into a positive light.

"We're in stand-by."

The voice that came by his systems was recognized to be his soldiers. Ramattra didn't shift or make any motions that would appear suspicious, simply sending them Omnicode to confirm the procedure without any problems. Everything was according to plan and looked easy to achieve from now on. It was all a time bomb now.

Ramattra’s system felt slightly relieved that all of this show would be over soon in a single moment, the damage would be done and there would be no way to repair it. Perhaps killing a member of the royal family that mostly everyone looked up to would be a clear death wish. But Ramattra felt confident in his army and his own ability to handle the backlash of his own actions.

“You’re doing well.”

You smiled towards the omnic, who only answers with a short nod of his head – at least, he acknowledges you. It’s enough to calm your anxiety being next to him, but you feel like it isn’t enough to give him the sense of your truthfulness to the cause.

“I just wanted to say, whether you believe me or not, that’ll support you and your decisions. Although I can’t help you with war, I’ll provide you with anything you and your army need for their well-being.”

The way you so kindly said those words, your voice soft and gentle – it made Ramattra speechless. What should he say back to such promises? Especially when they wouldn't mean nothing in mere minutes.

"I thank you."

Ramattra's voice was soft, softer than you have ever heard before. It somewhat felt like he was sad, or thinking too much about a topic that was making him feel anxiety. Whatever it was, you could hear it from him.

"And I'm sorry." – His words came to a close.

He turned his gaze towards you, his expression shifting. Ah, so that was the reason behind his aggression. The weight of this realization evoked a gentle sympathy within you, prompting a kind smile. You harbored no resentment towards his outburst, understanding that it stemmed from encountering royalty for the first time—the very individuals who had funded the armies responsible for the loss of the ones he proclaimed family.

"Please, don't apologize."

As your eyes glanced towards his hand, poised near yours, a gentle whisper escaped your lips in response. Delicately, you initiated a slow meeting of your hands, allowing him the freedom to withdraw at will. As your palms enclosed his mechanical hand, a serene smile adorned your face, you stared up at him once again.

"We'll make things right." – you said.

Ramattra couldn't phantom how understanding you were, how gentle you were treating when he clearly had shown his animosity towards you. The harsh words he spoke and the way he acted, all were uncalled for if he really stopped to think for a second. They were actions prompted by feelings of hatred, not towards you – it seemed. But to those he associated with you, and his system was slowly starting to realize the difference between you and them.

No.

He had no time for this, his mission was set and he wouldn't let himself fall for mere human false promises. Ramattra was more than this, he was smarter and his opinion wouldn't change. He hated you. He hated everything you stood up for. He hated where you came from. He hated everything. Unashamedly so.

But, he would allow you to find solace in him for your last moments. A small token of his gratitude for being so open and welcoming. Perhaps, in another life, you would grow to be more weary of those you let near.

"We will." – Ramattra replied.

He let his hand slightly squeeze yours back, just enough to see your eyes glitter with happiness and appreciation towards him.

Everything was set.

The curtain call.

From the 7th floor of a building nearby, behind glass, Ramattra's army charged the weapon. The rifle pointed towards your head with meticulous precision, following your movements. They only needed Ramattra to simply move his head slightly to the side, to ensure he wouldn't be hit by the killing blast.

Ramattras head tilted slightly to look at the spot where his Omnics were, a small nod on their way to confirm their plan.

This was it.

Fire.

With the trigger being pulled back, a loud noise echoed through the streets – the glass from the window hiding the Omnics cracking and falling apart. The bullet traveled quickly, piercing the air, leaving a trail behind. But within the gizmos of the weapon, an error hid, awaiting to disrupt the meticulously planned assassination. The bullet that was meant to find your head with cruel intent, embarked on a treacherous journey to forever change the course of events.

The bullet hit the side of your carriage, its blast power hitting you and Ramattra in the process. The shock of electricity made your head spin, and you could barely hear the terrified screams and the scrambling of people around you. The pain was almost unbearable, only being able to move due to the adrenaline rushing through your veins, alerting you of danger. Your ears were ringing, and your vision blurred as you tried your best to look at Ramattra – he had to be safe. For your cause, for your people, for you.

The scene quickly alerted the guards, and the omnics that were under Ramattras orders were quick to evacuate the area without being caught. They had no time to ponder what went wrong, they couldn't risk giving away that this was planned by Ramattra. They had to have another chance to get things right.

Ramattra's systems were also slightly damaged by the shock blast, but no damage to his exterior was present. It took mere seconds for his system to restart, clearing up any errors or mishaps. His optics quickly went towards you, hunched over, holding the carriage for support as you started to hyperventilate from the shock.

He had to do this quickly now.

"Your highness!"

Upon hearing a guard's voice, Ramattra swiftly assumed a protective posture, hunching over as if he were genuinely concerned for your well-being. He placed his hand on your back, simulating a caring gesture, all the while his faceplate fixedly focused on the side of your face as you struggled to endure the waves of pain coursing through your body. The act was a delicate balance of appearing concerned and concealing his true intentions.

Soon enough, there were multiple guards around the carriage – all worried about your safety as they tried to help.

"We should move her to safety, now!" – One of them screamed.

As Ramattra contemplated his options, a sinister thought crossed his mind. He entertained the idea of ending your life when you were alone, using a shock to deceive others into believing it was a result of the blast injuries. However, he quickly discarded this notion, recognizing the risk it posed. The presence of numerous armed guards made it too dangerous for him to attempt anything in the current situation, even in his Nemesis form.

You coughed a small portion of blood. A bad sign for the health of your internal organs.

"Take Ramattra first."

The unexpected words you spoke left the Omnic in a state of disbelief, and to his surprise, the guards swiftly redirected their attention to him. Uncertain of how to react under their watchful gaze, he couldn't bring himself to resist when they promptly ushered him into a nearby building, although he knew he didn't require any assistance. The situation left him feeling perplexed and conflicted, navigating a new realm of emotions that he had never encountered before.

You were clearly in a worse state than him. Why had you so unselfishly requested the attention to be on him? Perhaps, you were stupid. Ramattra mused himself with the thought. But it was vanquished as the weight of your decision set in his system. You were a mere human, capable of dying. Even if Ramattra had suffered damage, it would simply be a change of parts – you couldn't do such a thing.

Then why?

He kept repeating that question, obsessing over the possibilities – trying, fighting, against the possibility that it was that you cared for him.

Ramattra couldn't explain why or how, but he found himself standing by your side at the hospital bed. Despite the whispers and rumors circulating about his involvement in orchestrating the ordeal, there was no concrete proof linking him to the incident. The weapon used by the Omnics was also capable of being operated by humans, leaving no discernible trail of the perpetrator. There were no camera recordings, no DNA evidence, and no tangible traces, exactly as Ramattra had meticulously planned for months.

The stark contrast between the current sight of you and his first glimpse was striking. Once adorned in elegant jewelry and luxurious silks, you now appeared as a mere shadow of that former self, draped in bandages and a simple hospital gown. However, amidst this transformation, one thing remained unchanged - the warmth of your kind smile that you had offered him back in the carriage. It held a special place in his memory, a beacon of comfort amidst the changes and uncertainties.

The way you had reached out for his hand and whispered sweet reassurances at him. Apologies for something that was clearly not your fault.

"Do not apologize. I am fine. You should worry about yourself." – Ramattra spoke.

For response, a small giggle escaped your lips. Hand still holding his own as he sat next to your hospital bed.

"I'll heal. I'm glad you're safe, Ramattra."

The nonchalant manner in which you spoke about your experience, as if you hadn't faced death or endured pain, left Ramattra feeling perplexed. The complexity of emotions swirling within his mechanical system was difficult to decipher. He grappled with identifying the unfamiliar sensation, trying to make sense of the conflicting thoughts and feelings that were surfacing.

Your keen eyes acknowledged the way Ramattra's body was slightly tense, giving away the overthinking and anxiety he was obviously feeling.

"Hey."

His optics met your eyes at the softness of your voice.

"It'll be fine. I know it wasn't you, why would you be here making sure I am alright if it was?"

The question you posed left him utterly bewildered. It wasn't the meaning of the question that puzzled him, but rather its implications. He had been by your side… ensuring your safety and well-being, even though he had initially intended for your demise to occur. The contradiction in his actions weighed heavily on his mind, creating a turmoil of conflicting emotions within him.

Why was he there?

He couldn't even answer his own question. How could he answer you?

"It doesn't matter what anyone says. We'll show them. We're different."

As you spoke, he found himself grappling with uncertainty, unsure of how to adequately respond to the depth of emotions you conveyed. In a heartfelt attempt to reciprocate the affection you had once shown him, he gently enclosed your hand within his cold, mechanical palms, seeking to offer you the same type of comfort you had bestowed upon him. The surprising realization struck him, but it felt natural, as though the act was destined, a testament to the newfound connection between the two of you.

A small, appreciative smile graced your face as you noticed his gentleness. Deep down, you felt grateful for the way things had unfolded. You would do everything over and over again if it meant earning Ramattra's trust, to ensure he wasn't hurting anymore.

Ramattra and you let the silence hang, somehow, it didn't feel uncomfortable anymore.

He couldn't help but steal glances your way, watching the way your chest breathed in and out. He was designed with advanced sensors and processing abilities, allowing him to comprehend human emotions and behaviors. Yet, witnessing you laid so vulnerable, he suddenly became acutely aware of the profound susceptibility humans possessed. The realization how fragile you truly were, how he would never truly understand your pain, made Ramattra's chest tighten for the first time ever for a human.

In the silence, he found solace in your presence. It was as if the once vast gap between you and him had narrowed. In his mind, he ran countless simulations, trying to calculate the best course of action to go forward. But in the end, he understood that there was no real answer, it wasn't about finding the perfect solution – maybe, just maybe, it was just being there for you.

Tenderly, he returned the gesture, gently squeezing your hand, reminiscent of the care you had shown him before. The profound effect of this simple touch surprised him, as it seemed to bridge the gap between Omnic and human, blurring the lines of distinction. And yet, somehow he felt grateful for the complexity of emotions he was experiencing.

Your injuries, though not highly critical, would require a month-long healing process. However, it was astonishing to him how long it would take your body to recover from a mere blast of shock, a task that he, with his advanced systems, accomplished in mere seconds.

It was inevitable your death. It will come sometime soon.

It should be by his hands.

And yet…

And yet.

#overwatch x reader #overwatch fanfiction #ramattra x reader #ramattra fanfiction #ramattra x you #overwatch 2 #ramattra

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 29 days

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Idk if this is ok but can I sent honmei choco to male Raven from the April fool’s day event ;u; (yes my thirst for Da Boi transcends dimensions) “Raven-kun!! Hi, hello!! Fancy seeing you here. I wished really hard to meet you again and I think my wish has been granted! I don’t know if you even remember little ol’ me but I remember you. I missed you more than I care to admit and, well, I made these truffles thinking of you but not knowing if I could ever deliver them. So um h-here. Be mine?”

This ask was an old one from 2022's Sweet on You/Love is in the Air Valentine's Day themed blog event! The idea was to send chocolates to your desired boy. I missed the chance to reply to this one for April Fools in 2023 so I figured I'd get it out in honor of this year's April 1st!

For people who are confused about this character 💀 There was a joke event called “Raven Redux”, which featured the reader (you!) being transported to a genderbent AU. A male Raven Crowley (my OC + blog’s mascot) then helps the reader find a way to their home universe. He ended up being uh... pretty popular?

Even if it's just for a little while... Let's return to that other world!

***Art is by tinyfantasminha!***

“A dream is a wish your heart makes.”

That was what the headmaster had told you when you came to him with your troubles. A gaping hole in your chest, a longing that had yet to be fulfilled. Crowley had looked at you with pity, warbling as he smoothed a hand over your head.

“Speak your most heartfelt dream, your wish, to the Mirror of Darkness, and it shall take you there… to him.”

Now here you stood before the portal between places… and worlds. You hugged a box of truffles to your chest and took a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. Your reflection rippled in the mirror—then wildly distorted once you plunged into it.

A sharp exhale as coldness enveloped you. All the air from your lungs expelled, as if you were screaming with all your might, even if no words ever left your lips.

Your feet met solid ground.

You slowly opened your eyes.

The attic.

You were in Raven’s attic, her nest, her humble abode. A place built of papers and ink, tomes and tales. But was it the right Raven?

You steadily approached the feathered figure seated behind the writing desk. Each step as quiet as a mouse. No matter the Raven, you didn’t wish to disturb their creative process.

They reclined with a sigh, head draped over the top rail of their chair.

That’s…

A cap of midnight fell over his haughty face. Dark blue makeup colored closed lids, decorative dots lining his lower lashes. And there, dangling from his pointed right ear, was a golden feather earring.

He seemed set deep in thought, taking no heed of you. Willowy limbs splayed out, his vest generously opened to display the rise and fall of his chest. Dreaming, perhaps.

It was as though he was a sleeping prince encased in glass coffin. Awaiting his special someone to sweep him off his feet.

It’s him.

You cleared your throat—rousing him from his rest. He bolted upward, swiveling in your direction. His eyes were wide with alarm.

“Raven-kun!! Hi, hello!!” you called out with a bashful wave. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You’re…!” He stopped himself, reining in his shock and replacing it with what he hoped was casual coldness. “What are you doing here, worm?!”

You giggled nervously. “I wished really hard to meet you again and I think my wish has been granted! I don’t know if you even remember little ol’ me but I remember you.”

“… By the Seven, you’re absolutely hopeless,” Raven muttered.

He drew himself up from his seat. You yelped, taking a step back. It had been too long; you’d forgotten just how tall he was compared to your typical Raven.

“My memory isn’t that bad,” he scoffed. “How could I forget the fool who dared to tread in my territory and then groveled at my feet for assistance? In any case, it looks as though you’ll be needing it a second time.

“Wishing to see me again like this, reliving that old story… You must be truly desperate, hmm?”

Ah, yes. There it was—his silver tongue, sharpened for use as a bladed weapon. A dishonest defense.

Your chest fluttered.

“I missed you more than I care to admit,” you confessed, cheeks warming, “and, well, I made these truffles thinking of you but not knowing if I could ever deliver them.”

You held out the box of truffles to him.

“So, um… h-here.”

“This is…” Raven hesitated. “A heart-shaped box secured with a sparkling ribbon, with chocolates inside… It’s the sort of thing gifted to long-held crushes and lovers. You… You’re not being serious, are you?”

But you nodded, refuting him.

“I’m totally serious about you, Raven-kun,” you declared, your voice trembling. “B-Be mine?”

Surprise flickered through his face. Subtle, fleeting. His arrogance then returned, an attempt to cover the moment of weakness.

“Hoh? What’s this? Seems you grew a spine since last we met.” Wearing a smirk, Raven plucked the truffles up. “It would be rude of me to refuse your offering after you’ve pleaded for my affection and traveled all this way.”

“Y-You accept them? My feelings…”

“I didn’t say that.” He waggled a finger. The truffles, shoved inside of a drawer like some treasure stowed away for safekeeping. “Sweets and sentiments are two entirely different matters. I’m afraid that a bird is never to be tied down—the sky always calls to it.”

“Oh.” You deflated, lowering your gaze to the ink-stained floor. “Th-That’s okay, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

"Don’t make that sorry expression,” Raven sighed, frowning. "Sadness is unbecoming. No one wears it well."

I despise seeing on you. Because of me, you're making such a face... and I cannot even bring myself to properly apologize.

His chest ached.

“Look at me. Hate me,” he had once written--the tale of his isolating curse. “It is a better fate than languishing in history and being forgotten altogether.”

Suddenly, the short distance between the two of you seemed like oceans apart.

He could reach out, offer his hand. He could blurt out all that was running through his mind.

I was so lonely ever since you left. Let's make up that lost time. Tell me about yourself, about your world. How have you been? Do you still care for me, despite going through all my vitriol?

But he couldn't. No, he shouldn't.

Raven sucked in a breath through his teeth. Dancing with danger, tempting fate. He would dare, this one time.

“... Come here.”

"What?"

"I said, come here," he repeated, a little louder. His arms were out, hesitantly spread just wide enough for you to slip in. Raven, embarrassed, hastily glanced away from you.

“I failed to prepare a gift to return the favor—of course, you can’t really blame me, can you? Your appearance was unannounced. Accept this in its place… one moment of respite in my arms."

“R-Really?!”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

It was strange, shuffling into the folds of his arms. You had never been this close to him before—body and body, soul to soul. He smelled of pages and chilled rain, the darkness and the stars between it.

Raven was a painting come to life, speckled with intricate details you could only glean from up close. The curious twinkle in his eyes, the way his long, dark lashes flutter like wings, the pout to his mouth. From far away, he presented cool, untouchable.

Now…

He was strangely gentle. Almost vulnerable.

A bird crafted of glass, set to shatter by your hand.

“… Stop staring,” Raven grumbled. “I’ve told you before, haven’t I? It’s terribly rude. Not an ounce of good manners in you, is there?”

“Haha… No, I guess not,” you replied softly—noncommittal as you nestled snuggly into him.

“Hmph. Getting comfortable so soon?”

“Yup. Your feathers are fluffy and warm.”

A scoff. “… For what it’s worth, we can stay like this for as long as you like. Be thankful for my magnanimity.”

You smiled, and it set his pulse drumming. A new idea, born.

“I am.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #sweet on you #m!Raven Crowley #Reader #self insert #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions

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kathaniii · 11 months

Text

।। Aloukik।।

~ A folklore event ~

To all who are interested,

I'm hosting an event focusing on Indian folktales, fairytales, mythos and legend.

Aloukik is a month long event dedicated to highlighting stories from different cultures of India. There will be 10 prompts. It will run from 25th June to 24th July, with 3 days dedicated to each prompt.

Folklore has been an integral part of many cultures worldwide and India is no different. In our kaleidoscopic country, there exists a myriad of stories in different cultures, passed down from generation to generation. Storytelling has always been a fundamental part of human existence, stories become living, breathing things, transcending time and space as long there's someone to tell them.

So I'm inviting you to share your stories and your culture, folklore from any region, any state, any religion, any culture is welcome.

•To participate, you can post your writings, art, GIFs, Edits, Moodboards, anything you want.

•New content is appreciated but old content is also welcome.

•You can participate as much or as little as you'd like. You can post multiple entries for a given prompt or none at all.

•Late submissions are also welcome.

•Hateful content is not allowed. I have the right to ignore any content I see as hateful, but I will excercise this carefully. Furthermore, I will block you if it becomes a repeated offence throughout the event.

Be respectful of each other's cultures and religions.

To submit your entry, please follow the format given below:

@kathaniii | Aloukik 2023 | Day X

Please also use the event hashtag #Aloukik 2023.

The prompts are:

Day 1: (25th-27th June) Stories from your culture

Focus on and highlight stories from your state, religion or culture.

Day 2: (28th-30th June) Horror

Horror is a recurring theme in folklore. Horror stories are often the cornerstone of folktales. Highlight your favourite bhootnis, spirits, demons, and witches alike.

Day 3: (1st-3rd July) Women in Folklore

From witches to fairies, women have always played an integral role in many folktales and fairytales. Celebrate the inspiring women in folklore, their stories and their role in folk culture.

Day 4: (4th-6th July) Your Favourite Fairytales

Fairytales are, for most people, an important part of their childhood. Post about your favourite Princes and princesses, fairies and demons, kingdoms and magic.

Day 5: (7th-9th July) Unsung Stories

Post about folktales that you think are underrated and unsung. Tales that not many people know about, tales that you think deserve more love.

Day 6: (10th-12th July) Heroes and Heroines

Post about your favourite heroic characters, your favourite heroes and heroines, your favourite knights in shining armour.

Day 7: (13th-15th July) Villains

We all love a good villain and folktales have given us many iconic villains and antagonists. Post about your favourite evil queens, evil kings, dark witches and demon kings.

Day 8: (16th-18th July) Your favourite characters

Post about your favourite characters from fairytales and folktales. Tell us about any characters you fell in love with, hero or villain.

Day 9: (19th-21st July) Childhood stories

We all grew up hearing fairytales and folktales from our parents or grandparents. Tell us about your favourite childhood stories, stories you grew up with, stories you cherish.

Day 10: (22nd-24th July) Creator's Choice

This day is a free-for-all. Post about anything you want, any stories, any characters, anything your heart desires.

Feel free send any questions about the event to the event's blog @kathaniii. Thank you.

#Aloukik 2023 #desiblr #desi academia #mythology #folklore #folktales #fairytales #desi tag #event #desi aesthetic #desi dark academia #desi moodboard

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artemiseamoon · 2 years

Text

Of the most importance

Harwin x eldest Velaryon daughter (black! F reader)

Read on A03

An: i cannot stop thinking about this man. I’m yearning! Breaking my previews only thing for this. I did post this to a03 already tho. Reader is of legal age and an adult. I never write huge a*e gaps or minors with adults for obvious reasons. If you want that, I’m the wrong blog for you.

Warnings: none really, a punch, a fight, a minor blood mention

Reader note: he picks her up, I leave this in because it’s hot as fuck. I’m not trying to assume readers size. I myself am small- medium plus size and he is the strongest man of the seven kingdoms so i Stan that no matter the size, he can pick his lady up and carry her 😁

As you danced your eyes continued to meet him across the room. Ser Harwin Strong, firstborn of Lyonel Strong; an honorable, loyal, rugged and confident knight. The exact kind of man you desire and hoped for as you rejected every suitor who asked for your hand.

You didn’t want to settle, much to your parents' frustration. The eldest of three, you are the oldest daughter of Lord Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys Targaryen. Eldest sister of Laenor and Laena Velaryon.

According to everyone, you should be married with children already. As you all gather to celebrate your brother's wedding, you can see behind your parents' proud expressions, that the pressure for you to make a choice is going to intensify.

No one caught your attention until the Knight arrived at your family's ancestral home. Upon first sight, you liked what you saw; dark features, physical strength, green eyes. Your immediate attraction grew each time you saw him. When working, he was all business; you could tell he earned every bit of his reputation.

Ser Harwin ‘Breakbones’, the heir to Harrenhal, strongest man of the Seven Kingdoms, is a force, and enjoy seeing him in action; perhaps more than you should. You didn’t know much about him, except the tales that travel with a person's name. Still, you found yourself utterly fascinated with him. The longer he worked with your family and protected the grounds, the closer to him you wanted to be.

The longer he worked for your family, the more you started to see glimpses of Harwin outside of his strong and loyal demeanor. The first time was a month ago when a suitor who got a bit handsy. You quickly asserted your boundary and made yourself clear. The suitor then left you alone and proceeded to get drunk with his friends.

As the event went on into the night, and the drunker the man became, he decided to make one more try at you. When he tried to kiss you, you promptly punched him in the nose which grabbed everyone's attention.

Across the way, as you wiped blood off your knuckles with a dinner cloth, you could see a proud smile on Harwin's face. A smile he continued to wear as he crossed the room and made his way to you. The smile only dropped when he grabbed the man by the collar and dragged him out.

When he returned, you were speaking with a childhood friend. The conversation fell quiet as the Knight approached. Your friend didn’t mind, she saw the way you looked at him, and the way Harwin looked at you. She stepped away with a small grin, leaving your two alone.

“Impressive.” He crossed his arms, a small smirk danced on his lips.

Keeping your eyes on him, you grinned, “I do what I can. Keeps the creeps away.”

“Maybe you should be wearing armor.” He commented as his eyes moved over your bare neck and shoulders.

The dress you wore is one of your favorites and you can see by the way his eyes travel along your bare skin, it may be one of his too.

“Maybe we could switch one day, I will wear this,” you extend your right and touched his chest with your fingertips, “and you can wear a dress.”

A warm chuckle rose from his throat, his smile met his eyes, “I’m afraid I won’t wear a dress as gracefully as you do, Princess.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you might look hot.”

Harwin quirked a brow and wet his lips. Your eyes fell there as a soft breath escaped them and everything in you wanted to inch closer and press your lips to his. Before you get to say anything else, his father called for him.

“I have to cut this short Princess.”

“It’s fine, until next time.” You stepped back and watched him walk away. He only took a couple of steps before glancing back at you.

…

Fresh off your dance with Harwin, your body is still buzzing from his warmth, his scent, the closeness of his body to yours. Though you are semi-listening to the story your friend is telling you, your eyes are fixed on the rugged man across the room.

You can still hear his compliment in your ear, and feel the tingle of his breath, “you look beautiful Princess.”

You one-upped yourself tonight, it is your brother's wedding dinner after all. You didn’t pick this dress solely for the Knights eyes, you did it for you, with the feeling his eyes would pop out of his head at the sight of you; and they did.

It’s a long off the shoulder dress with delicate gold embroidery. It fits your form perfectly, highlighting all your best features. The gold in the dress perfectly complimented the gold tones of your brown skin.

Holding his gaze, you run your fingers across your neckline and watch as his eyes widen, just a little.

Before you can flirt with him a minute longer, a fight breaks out in the center of the room. Jumping up from your seat, you try to find your brother in the chaos. One danger of a royal gathering, especially a wedding celebration, is enemies and violence breaking out.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you make your way through the crowd. When you glanced back, you could see your sister Laena doing the same. Before you could turn back, something hard ran into you, knocking you back into the group of people behind you.

Scrambling to your feet, you rise in time to see Harwin making his way to you. Barreling through the crowd and knocking out anyone in his way. He reaches you in no time and sweeps you off your feet and over his shoulder.

Harwin rushes you out of the room, down the hall, and off to one of the safety chambers. Your heart is in your throat as he shuts the doors.

“Harwin-”

He closes the space between you and cups your face with one hand, his sword in the other.

“Stay put.”

“Harwin, I need to get to my family- “

“They’ll be fine. Stay here.'' He heads out of the room. “Bolt the door.” He called back.

You watch him leave and bolt the door.

…

Later

The marriage ceremony was smaller than originally intended, quieter, a bit somber. But it makes sense given what happened earlier. Once the vows are made, and the wedding is official, the family stays in the hall a little longer.

You stepped outside for air and gazed at the ocean. A second later, Harwin joined you.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. He stood at your side, leaning over the stone railing same as you. The Knight gazes at the waves as you stare at him.

“Harwin?”

“Yes, princess?” His eyes met yours.

“Why did you take me first?"

He straightened up and turned his body toward yours. “Honestly?”

Your heart beats even faster in your chest, "Yes, honestly.”

“Your safety is of the most importance to me.” He said as he stared at you, his eyes full of emotion. He closes the space between you, “I am honored to protect your family,” he paused and gently grabs your chin, “and it is the highest honor to protect you.”

His hand moves from your chin to the side of your neck. A breath hitches in your throat as he squeezes gently, its the perfect amount of pressure; dominant yet gentle. You smile warmly as his lips meet your own in a kiss.

Liked this? Reblogs are better then likes 😁 help others find this fic by sharing.

More black & woc reader

More Harwin

Masterlist

#harwin strong #harwin HoTd #hotd #harwin x black f reader #harwin strong x f reader #black f reader

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ladynoirjuly · 2 years

Photo

LadyNoir July 2022 is almost here! We are very excited for this year’s event and hope you all are too (especially considering where the canon left us at)! Super huge thanks again to one of our mods @masilvi for making this amazing calendar!

LadyNoir July discord server came up with and voted on this year’s prompts. If you would like to be part of the prompt selection process in the future, or if you just want to hang out in a quiet, salt-free server that loves LadyNoir, feel free to reach out for an invite in DMs.

To participate in this event, use the prompts (also written out below the cut) during the month of July to create art, fic, gifs, music, cosplay, anything you want! Just be sure to @ this blog and use the tag #ladynoirjuly2022. You do not have to do the prompts in order, nor do you have to do all of them. Do as many or as few as you’d like, and, most importantly, don’t forget to have fun!

That being said, please keep in mind a few rules:

1. This is a salt-free event. Please keep all of your submissions free of heavy critique/bashing of the show/characters/ships.

2. Please keep your submissions centred around LadyNoir. You may include other corners of the Love Square, but the majority of the work should be revolving around LadyNoir.

3. This event is open to people of all ages. NSFW submissions are allowed, but please put them under a Read More and tag appropriately.

4. Have fun!

Works that do not adhere to these rules will not be reblogged.

If your work hasn't been reblogged within 48 hours, please, check if you’ve mentioned this blog in your post ( @ladynoirjuly ) AND tagged your work with #ladynoirjuly2022. If everything is in order but your work was still not reblogged, please, reach out to the mod team. We’ll do our bests not to miss anyone, but sometimes things slip through.

We can’t wait to see what you all come up with this year!

LadyNoir July 2022 prompts:

1. Last Hero/es

2. Moon

3. Rooftops

4. The Wall Between

5. Thunderstorm

6. Breathe

7. Cat Walker

8. Bell

9. Together

10. City Lights

11. Un Coupe de Foudre

12. Paper Crowns

13. Aftermath

14. Hold My Hand

15. Loyal Partner

16. Disguises

17. Pet Names

18. Midnight Rendezvous

19. Arcades

20. Birthdays

21. Chocolate Kisses

22. Blankets

23. Memories

24. Origins

25. Meeting Spot

26. Nightmares

27. Alone

28. Revelations

29. String of Fate

30. Fairy Tale

31. Always

Disclosure: the reference for the calendar’s art can be found here.

#LadyNoir #LadyNoir July #LadyNoir July 2022 #ladynoirjuly2022 #ladybug #chat noir #fandom monthly event #ladynoir July calendar

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alastairstom · 1 year

Text

Hello!

Welcome to my TSC blog, a place where I cause shenanigans and (mainly) post fanfiction! I mainly write about Thomastair, Wessa, Jordelia and my much-beloved Matthew Fairchild because that's where my interests largely lie.

My fics, published as thegirlofthorns on Ao3:

Alastair/Thomas

Dreamscapes on the Wall (multichapter, complete)

The Golden Age of Something Good & Right & Real (multichapter, complete)

A Ribbon of Dream (multichapter, complete)

Flying in a Dream, Stars by the Pocketful (Christmas multichapter, complete)

The Rest of My Life With Him (one-shot)

A Dazzling Haze, A Mysterious Way About You (one-shot)

The Diaries of Sir Thomas Lightwood, Age Fourteen (one-shot)

Part-Time Soulmate, Full-Time Problem (one-shot)

Passed Down Like Folk Songs (The Love Lasts So Long) (one-shot)

I'm a Fire and I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm (18+, one-shot)

Moonlight Sonata and I (gift for @luciehercndale)

Days Future: Paris, 1912 (one-shot)

all of you, all of me (intertwined) (gift for @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer)

The Stars Are Aligned (So Save That Heart for Me) (one-shot reincarnation AU)

I Had the Best Day (With You, Today) (Thomastair & Gracetopher, oneshot)

The Surprise (one-shot)

Baby You Got Lucky 'Cause You're Rockin' With the Best (18+, one-shot)

The Crown You Never Take Off (one-shot gift for @thevagabondexpress)

Twenty Minutes (18+, one-shot)

like a candle you burnt out (one-shot)

Kaleidoscope of Loud Heartbeats Under Coats (one-shot)

Connecting the Tide to the Sand That Was Dry (one-shot gift for @vwritesaus)

The Together, We'll Learn to Breathe Series (about Thomas and Alastair healing together) // can be read in any order

A Therapeutic Chain of Events (multichapter, complete)

You Drew Stars Around My Scars (one-shot)

a dwindling mercurial high (multichapter, complete, past Charles/Alastair)

Closets of Backlogged Dreams (multichapter, on hiatus)

Bloodsucker, Famefucker (one-shot)

Every Tear's a Rain Parade From Hell (one-shot)

Will/Tessa

When Our Eyes Meet, Darling, I Fancy You (multichapter, complete)

The Howling Wind (18+, one-shot)

Have I Known You Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years? (one-shot)

A Tale of a Great Behemoth (one-shot)

Leaves, Cider Donuts, and William Herondale (one-shot)

This Life Is Sweeter Than Fiction (one-shot college AU)

my hips & thighs & my whispered sighs (oh lord) (18+, one-shot)

'Sentimental Boy' Is My Nom de Plume (one-shot)

Christmas on the Balcony (18+, one-shot)

Matthew

The Name We Give Our Mistakes -> Character study (multichapter, complete)

Summer Went Away (Still the Yearning Stays) -> Matthew + family (multichapter, complete)

The Cheap Severity of Abstract Ethics -> Matthew & Alastair + Thomas/Alastair (multichapter, complete)

Forces & Flowers -> Matthew & Anna (one-shot)

This Beautiful Beast -> Matthew & Oscar feat. Thomas/Alastair + Kit (one-shot)

across our great divide, there is a glorious sunrise -> Character study (one-shot)

A Combination of Shock and Awe -> Matthew & Charles feat. Will (one-shot)

The Importance of Being... -> Matthew + Thomas/Alastair

The Matthew and Alastair: Burying the Hatchet series (about Matthew and Alastair having important conversations shortly after ChoT) // can be read in any order

Prices and Vices (I End Up in Crisis) -> Matthew & Alastair (one-shot)

Your Flower's Filled With Vitriol -> Matthew & Alastair (one-shot)

In the Gutter, Looking at the Stars -> Matthew & Alastair (one-shot)

The Matthew Fairchild: An Expert in Romantics Series // can be read in any order

Life is Not Complex (We Are Complex) -> Matthew + Eugenia/OC feat. Thomas/Alastair (one-shot)

For One Moment, Our Lives Met (Our Souls Touched) -> Matthew, Magnus, + Ragnor/Catarina (gift for @themimsyborogove

Fashion is Ephemeral (Art Is Eternal) -> Matthew + Thomas/Alastair (one-shot)

The Moon in Her Chariot of Pearl -> Matthew + Will/Tessa (one-shot)

A Little Sincerity (A Dangerous Thing) -> Matthew + Risa/OC feat. Alastair

James/Cordelia

It's a Love Story (Baby, Just Say Yes) (one-shot)

I Can See You (Up Against a Wall With Me) (one-shot gift for @furoruisa)

Privacy Sign on the Whole World (one-shot)

Other

Taffy Stuck & Tongue Tied -> Grace & Alastair (one-shot)

Empty Bottles, Heavy Hearts, the Memories of Broken Dreams -> Thomas character study (one-shot)

I Never Said That (I Love You) -> Catarina/Ragnor (one-shot)

Blazed Glory -> TLH ensemble shenanigans (one-shot)

the nature of love -> a poem (one-shot)

Carol of the Bells: A Winter-Themed Drabble Collection

You also will likely find a lot of Taylor Swift content here. I also post sometimes about KJ Charles' books, especially the Charm of Magpies series. Our Flag Means Death, How I Met Your Mother, The Office, Never Have I Ever, Good Omens, and Crazy Ex Girlfriend will also pop up frequently.

Thanks for reading! If you like my fics and want to support me, do consider getting me a Ko-Fi. Literally no pressure, I write for fun, but it'd be cool!

#pinned #thomastair #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #matthew fairchild #will herondale #tessa gray #wessa #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #jordelia #herondaisy

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luminous-letters · 2 years

Note

How about enemies to lovers with a vampire!Vil and a vampire hunter reader?

Sanguine and Silver

"Of hunter and prey, of gunner and game. A tango between a wanderer and a man fanged-fair."

The fog had been there since the beginning. A stalwart sentinel of the land, who firmly stood long before folk settled and rooted civilization upon its soil. Come rain, come snow, it was there, still.

You ran, bare feet pounding against the uneven ground beneath. Carry on, run for your life. Frightened deer, hunter-turned-prey, run till the chase stops. And pray that it ends in your favor.

Escape, for dead men tell no tales. Dead men taste not the addictive cold of alcohol nor savor the heaven that was meals, for only the cold of the earth lies for the dead.

You ducked and dashed till you found cover. You hid amongst the bushes and foliage. Careful as a mouse, holding your breath lest it finds you. It, who feeds upon life. Vil Schoenheit— a vampire.

You hoped the tranquil scent of the soil and flora would mask the adrenaline that pumped throughout your body, and you wished that the sparrows sang loud enough to overshadow the incessant pounding in your chest.

The bruises ache, and the scratches burn. It felt like a searing knife dragged its edge along your skin, sending waves upon waves of phantom pains across your beat and battered body.

Crimson drops seeped into the land below, staining it. The coppery scent grew stronger, more potent with each passing second. You stilled, hearing a cackle followed by the crunch of leaves and twigs. It grew louder.

Your grip on the blade never faltered. The inscribed silver of the dagger shone coldly under the moonlight, awaiting the next monster that should fall victim to it.

"You offer a good chase, I'll give you that," he chuckled. Vil Schoenheit looked like he didn't even break a sweat.

"I'll kill you, just you wait," you spat venomously. Your eyes held fire, fire that held the intent to burn him on the stake.

Vil only laughed harder.

"I'll be waiting till the day comes," he looked down at your injured figure, the lilac jewels that were his irises flashed traces of concern...? Pity? It made you sick to the core.

I don't need your pity. I hate it.

You positioned yourself and lunged with all the strength you had left. Circle in for the kill, your mind screamed. For he is game, and you are his hunter.

The blade shall tear through immortal flesh, and the essence that holds life shall spill out. The village shall be liberated, free from the behemoth that plagues the shadows. And you will revel in fame and riches.

Let us prey.

You tore through, but only slightly. He was fast. A powerful kick parried his demise. And that same strike sent you hurling towards a faraway tree.

You hacked up blood, sure that your bones have been shattered to pieces from the impact. Slowly, your vision grew dark.

"Insolent fool..." you heard him say, his words became blurred by your gradual slip of consciousness.

Your mind withdrew, overloaded by the great pains, fears, and panics nonstop. Just then, you felt waves against your feet and a voice behind your ear.

"Not yet," the voice, that sounded of wind upon ash, consoled. Its tone was that of a consoling parent.

You awoke. The sensation of falling jolted your senses into action.

You felt the luxurious satin sheets of the bed.

You tasted a bitterness that lingered on your palate.

You saw faint sunlight, glowing faintly through half-open curtains.

You heard footsteps against the hardwood floor.

Your body felt heavy. The aches of last night hadn't faded completely, but they became bearable enough for you to move.

"You're awake, I see," the voice, no doubt, belonged to Vil.

"Why are you doing this..." you narrowed your eyes, inching towards your blade on the nightstand. What is he to gain from this?

He stepped closer, smirking when he saw you reach for the dagger. Closer and closer, he tested the boundaries between you both.

"You should be grateful. But here you are throwing a fit," he said with a sigh, still ignoring the darkened expression on your face.

"You haven't answered my question," you gritted. "Why would something like you save me? To treat me like cattle? To hunt and release, then hunt again?"

Vil rolled his eyes. "I don't plan on killing you simply because I have my morals. Drink blood... I haven't done that for so long. And I don't plan on doing it anytime soon," he explained.

"Though, the latter sounds tempting. I might try it sometime if you're still foolhardy enough to threaten me again."

You laughed, refusing to believe a word that Vil said. Morals? Bullshit.

"I'll kill you."

"You couldn't do so even if you tried."

Quick, like a flash, you took your dagger with the intent of finally finishing the job— to kill Vil.

You didn't expect your body to freeze on the spot. Pathetically, you fell to the floor, unable to move a muscle. You felt like stone, a crude statue. You can't even avert your gaze from a Vil that couldn't hold his laughter.

He picked you up with ease, giving you a loud 'tsk' like a parent would do to their child. "You're not so keen, aren't you?"

Why can't I move?

"Why can't you just sit quietly. I'm even treating you myself. Be thankful at least," Vil lay you down on the bed. A flick of his fingers broke the curse, your entire body felt like putty from the sudden change.

"I'll kill you, I promise you."

"That's nice."

You grabbed the blade again, only to lose all mobility once more. Another sigh escaped from Vil's lips.

"This might take a while."

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #gn!mc #gender neutral reader #twst x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #twst oneshot #twst fanfiction #writing #my writing #answered ask #enemies to lovers #a breath a tale blog event #i rise up from the dead i do it all the time #twst fanfic

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wildbornsiren · 2 years

Text

Lucky Piece (part three) | Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin/F!Reader

Lucky Piece 3/4

Summary: You’ve known Jake “Hangman” Seresin for years. He gets called up and asks if you’d come with him. Throwing caution into the wind you join him as he trains for a special mission; all the while figuring out how much you really mean to each other.

Part 3 of 4. 3,955/14,664 words. AFAB/ Civilian Female reader.

Part one is HERE || Part two is HERE

Warning: Explicit sex, MINORS DNI. Top Gun Maverick spoilers, Jake's filthy mouth, vaginal intercourse, mention of reader being in a bad relationship before the events of the story. Angst Please note: This part has a physical fight, and unsupportive/verbally abusive family (Jake’s.) HOWEVER there is happiness at the end of this chapter. Notes/Thanks: I am so overwhelmed and grateful to the response to this story. I appreciate you all so very very much. It means so much to me. Thank you. Special thanks to @writercole for beta reads. Thank you to @therebeccaw for the moodboard. Comments and re-blogs are loved and feed the muses. Likes are so loved. Thank you so very much for reading. It means the most.

“Just parked, on my way in.” You send a message to Jake before getting out of the car, tucking your phone into the back pocket of your jeans, holding onto the car keys. The two of you had made plans to have drinks with the rest of the Dagger team that evening. You and Jake had settled into an easy pace of living together, and slowly but surely the clothing and things that you had brought with you to Fightertown ended up in his room. His little found family had not only accepted him, but you as well, and the easy smile that you loved to see on Jake’s face was there more often. There’s plenty of service members outside the bar, and you see a cluster of people that you’ve come to call friends grouped together. You wave, feeling the full force of Jake’s grin turned toward you. You hear someone say your name, and it makes you pause, glancing toward your left. He repeats himself, and when you get a look at the man speaking, your heart drops into your stomach. “Trevor,” you swallow hard, trying to get rid of the lump of fear rising in your throat. “I didn’t know you were here.” “I sent you a message.” The weight of his gaze makes you shiver. He’s leaning against the car, his arms folded across his chest and his jaw clenched tightly. “A few messages, in fact, and imagine my surprise when my girlfriend doesn’t answer me.” You breathe deeply, grip tightening on the keys. “If you’re talking about me Trevor, I broke up with you. There’s nothing more to talk about.”

“I didn’t agree to ending the relationship.”

“There was nothing for you to agree to. It wasn’t up for negotiation.” You can see that Phoenix has broken away from the men and is headed your way. Rooster, Jake and Bob are watching as well.

“I made it clear when I left the key and you know, left the state.” You say.

“We need to talk.”

“No, no we really don’t Trevor.” You hate that there’s a smile on your face, you know it’s placating and an effort to keep his temper at bay. Inside you’re screaming, your muscles tightening. Bile rises in your throat, your hands gripping the straps of your bag tighter.

He steps away from the car, and you take a step back reflexively. “We need to talk.” He says, “don’t make me ask again.” He’s reaching for you, grabbing you. His grip is iron on your upper arm, his fingers mottling your skin with how tight he’s holding onto you.

He yanks hard, pulling you against him, turning you to pin you against the car.

“Let go,” you don’t recognize your voice- it’s high and panicked. You feel like one of those damsels in fairy tales, waiting for the knight to save her. Your knees are weak, every part of your brain screaming at you to kick, push him away, use the strength you have and get away from him. His breath washes over you, the scent of cheap beer permeating your senses, his eyes bloodshot and teary. He squeezes your arm harder, a whimper escaping, as you try to make yourself smaller, pressing as tight as you can against the car.

There’s an explosion of noise and you flinch. Trevor grunts as Jake slams into him, knocking him to the ground with a sickening thud. Trevor’s hand falls away from your arm, and a far gentler, yet firm grip lands on your wrist. An arm circles your waist and you’re pulled away from Trevor’s car, finding yourself face to chest with Bob. You can hear knuckles hitting flesh, Jake’s voice low and dangerous.

There are two more male voices yelling and the scramble of bodies colliding. Bob still has a grip on your wrist, his other hand pressed to the back of your neck, holding you against him. “Don’t,” He murmurs against the top of your head. “You don’t need to see him like this. Rooster and Coyote have him.” The sounds of flesh on flesh are filling the air and you can feel the presence of a large crowd forming. Rooster is yelling at Jake to stop, Jake is growling at Trevor about touching you, Coyote is shouting for Rooster to grab his other arm. You can hear Phoenix’s voice cutting through their voices, unable to make out what she’s saying over the sound of your heart pounding and the air trying to rush into your lungs. “He’s going to kill him.” “They won’t let that happen.” Bob says. “I’ve got you, you’re okay. They’ve got him.” You pull away, trembling as you turn around, Bob lets you see the damage but keeps a hold of your wrist to help steady you. Trevor’s rolling on the asphalt, hands clutched to his face groaning. Jake is shaking off Coyote’s arm, rushing toward you and Bob. Jake’s lip is bleeding, a bruise already forming on his jaw. His knuckles are split open, dripping blood on the ground. You can’t tell if the blood stains on his shirt are his or Trevor’s, but it doesn’t matter when he cups your face, looking you over for any serious injuries. “I’m okay.” You say. His thumbs are shaking when they trace over your cheekbones. “You’re hurt.” “I’ve had worse,” He kisses your forehead, that anger in his eyes melting away replaced by worry. “He had his fucking hands on you.” You can hear the wail of cop cars in the distance, two cruisers pulling into the parking lot. “How much trouble did you just get into for me?” Rooster has moved to block the two of you from view. “The only thing anyone saw was a man putting his hands on a woman. Then he tripped.” Jake murmurs. “I’m not in uniform, and neither was anyone else involved.” He turns his head away from you and spits blood onto the pavement. You smooth mussed hair from his forehead and wiped the corner of his mouth. “I think there’s a spare shirt in the trunk if you want to change.” He catches your hands bringing them to his mouth and kissing your fingertips tenderly. “Come on, let me help you get cleaned up.” Someone, you suspect Phoenix, had convinced Penny to let the two of you into the backroom of the Hard Deck. Gently you wash the blood from Jake’s knuckles, taking care to dry his hands before you’re bandaging him up. “Are you sure you’re alright?” He cups your cheek, leaning in, your foreheads touching. “You’re my girl.” He says softly, his breath brushing against your lips. “My sweet Lucky girl.” He kisses you gently, and your chest tightens. He’s trembling, and you wrap your arms around him pulling him closer to you. Jake shifts in your arms, and his head drops to your chest. You lean against the counter, supporting his weight, your fingers carding through his hair. “What’s really going on?” “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” “I’m not going anywhere Jake.” You scratch at his scalp. “How could I abandon my knight in shining armor?” That earns you a soft snort. “I love you, Jake.” The words finally break through the barricade you’ve built. “I left with you, and I’m not going anywhere without you.” “You going to let me take care of you?” He’s still under your hands. “As long as you’ll have me, Seresin.” “You know I gotta take you home to my momma before I make it any more official.” He lifts his head, kissing your cheek. You’re struck by the softness on his face, and the way that his eyes close even when he kisses you that way. “I already know she loves you darlin’.” “You’ve thought about this haven’t you?” He nods, straightening. “Kiss me?” And you do, many times, before joining the others in the bar. Not a single one of your group pay for your drinks the entire night, and there’s more than a few people dropping by your usual corner to clap Jake on the shoulder. ------------------------------------- Two days later you’re at the Seresin family ranch, sitting on a bench on a bluff that overlooked the property. The sun is setting, the sky ablaze with oranges and reds, wisps of clouds on the horizon. Jake’s holding your hand, your fingers intertwined, thumb rubbing over the back of your hand slowly. Jake had stolen you away when his sister had gone to replace the pitcher of sweet tea and tray of cookies. Pressed you against the wall in the foyer, kissing you until you were breathless before he nipped your lower lip and winked. His dog tags dangled from his fingertips, having pulled them from your pocket. When you reached out to take them back, he held them just out of reach. “Come take them back, darlin’.” His grin was slow and easy, eyes bright and teasing. He was out the front door, taking off in a light jog when you followed him. Leading you all over the property stealing kisses and playfully groping at you, he led you on a game of tag that left you both laughing and tangled up more than once. And now you were here, next to him, your head resting on his shoulder as he studies the way your hand fits in his. The dog tags were back around your neck, tucked under the neckline of your dress. “You alright?” You ask. His jaw was tight, a toothpick clenched in his teeth. “The old man is on his way home.” You squeeze his hand. “When was the last time you two talked?” “Before I was stationed at Lemoore.” “What about the holidays?” “Perk of being active duty.” Jake muttered. “It’s not really questioned when you say you have to work.” “You want me to kick his ass?” He snorts, and glances at you. “Wouldn’t want you to get your pretty hands dirty.” He leans in, kissing your cheek. “It’ll be alright, I’ve got you with me.” The toothpick is tossed to the side, before he’s pulling you in for a proper kiss. “I tell you recently that I love that dress?” Jake’s murmuring against your skin, kisses landing along your jaw, your neck. His free hand drops to your knee, sliding up your leg. “You’re avoiding the subject at hand.” You try to sound stern, but it loses its effect when his fingertips brush the front of your panties. “This hand?” He’s rubbing a single finger over the fabric, just enough to make you shiver. “I’m not avoiding this subject at all. I want to get into deep stimulating conversations about this.” He’s teasing just under the fabric, your legs falling further apart for him. “Jake,” you whimper when those fingers slide home and he’s playing with the slick between your legs, thumb rubbing at your clit. “You would fight for me, wouldn’t you?” Jake’s off the bench, kneeling in the grass in front of you. His lips are on your skin as he’s inching the hem of your sundress up further. “Sweet girl.” He bites your thigh, tongue immediately laving over pinched skin soothing any ache. “My sweet girl.” He says it again, two fingers sinking into you, thrusting easily. “Keep the tags on tonight, don’t want any doubt as to why I’m bringin’ you home.” He sucks your clit through your panties, his moan nearly making your eyes roll back. “Possessive much?” You laugh, and it’s breathy and light, heart thudding rapidly in your chest. “Tags are nicer than the other way of reminding you.” “What’s that?” Your hand finds its way to his hair, fingers combing through it. “I lay you down in the grass and fuck you until you’re sated. Take you back down to the house with my come dripping into your panties.” His fingers curl, thrusting into you harder. “Please baby, can I have you?” “Yes.” You whimper, he’s easing away from you, pulling his shirt off, and laying it on the grass. He takes your hand, pulling you to your feet, mouth closing over yours. His kisses make you dizzy and breathless against his mouth, he’s chasing your laughter, his kisses continuing to your cheek, along your jaw, down your neck.

You end up on your back in the soft grass, Jake slotted between your knees. His hands on your thighs, inching up under your dress to pull your panties down and tuck them into his pocket. Your legs part easily for him, his kisses trailing along the inside of your thighs.

He licks at your pussy with long broad strokes, tongue teasing between your folds, before he’s groaning, hands gripping your thighs tight enough that you know you’ll have bruises of his fingerprints in the morning. He moans with his face buried between your legs, kissing your cunt the same way he kisses your mouth—deep, possessive, and good enough that thought leaves your mind. You’re rewarded with another low moan when your fingers slide into his hair, tugging on it.

Jake nuzzles against the inside of your thigh, the scruff on his jaw and cheeks rough against soft skin, making you clench tightly around nothing. “I will never get tired of the taste of you on my tongue.”

He licks his thumb, eyes nearly swallowed by the dark of his pupil. Jake settles back, hands once more at your knees as he lifts your legs, settling them over his shoulders. He presses into you slow and smooth, not stopping until he’s bottomed out.

The sound that slides past parted lips makes you shiver, his hips drawing back and thrusting into you effortlessly. All that matters is the man above you, the way he fucks into you, the way he’s panting, moaning your name, eyes half lidded and heavy, watching you as if you were the only thing in his world. You brush his hair free from his forehead and he leans into the touch, tipping his head just right to kiss your palm. Your back arches when he drives himself repeatedly over your sweet spot, you grip his forearms tightly trying to ground yourself.

“Jake…” his name falls from your lips, hips rocking against him to meet his thrusts. You release one of his arms, your hand sneaking between the two of you, rubbing at your clit. He whimpers, hips stuttering against yours. His cock brushes against your fingers as he fucks into you harder.

“Come on baby, come in me, please.”

His ragged groan urges you on.

“Please Jake, come in me. I want you to fill me. This pussy is yours, isn’t it?” You tighten around him, and you swear you see his eyes roll back. “Claim it then baby. Fill your pussy full. I want you to drip out of me all fucking night.” You whimper when your orgasm washes over you, giving in to the spiraling pleasure that resides low in your belly.

Jake’s coming seconds after you, stilling as he groans. You can feel him twitching inside you as he finds his own release. He’s still above you, buried inside of your wet heat. “I know I shouldn’t say it now, but goddamn I love you.” His voice is hoarse and soft, hands gentle as he adjusts your legs, pulling out of you.

His hand interlaces with yours, kissing the back of your hand.

“Seresin if you propose to me while my panties are in your pocket, I’m going to say no on principle alone.”

He laughs, head tipping back, any remaining tension fading from his body. “No, not yet. Momma said I can’t ask until after she’s fed you.” He leans in kissing the tip of your nose. He fixes his clothing, extending a hand to help you up. He stoops down however, sliding your panties back up your legs, and over your hips.

------------- Aaron Seresin was as intimidating as you remembered. He sat at the head of the table, perfectly pressed white button up shirt, spotless, tie knotted neatly at his throat. Clean shaven, hair cut short graying at the temples. Jake was a carbon copy, except the lines at the corners of Jake’s eyes were from laughter, not anger. Ellen sat at his right, her face warm and open, softer around the edges than in your youth. Jake’s sisters line the table. You’re at Jake’s left, and he’s sitting at the foot of the table. “He knock you up?” You nearly choke on the sweet tea you’re drinking when Aaron’s harsh gaze lands on you. “No, no sir.” You offer a small smile, your free hand squeezing Jake’s knee under the table. He's so tense his knuckles are white as he holds his fork. “I had some vacation time that I needed to use, and Jake invited me to join him on a trip home.” Aaron grunts, taking a sip of his old fashioned. “Thought you would have at least had the decency to settle down and have a proper family. Never thought you’d throw your lot in with my son.” Jake’s thigh flexes under your hand and you glance sidelong at him. His jaw is set in a harsh line, and he’s staring at his father. “Jake has always been a constant sir,” you smile sweetly at him. “He’s my best friend. I’m lucky to have him in my life.” “He’s a stick jockey, sweetheart,” somehow the word was so foul coming from his mouth. “Arrogant, cocky and reckless.” “Most specialized fields are, especially when they’re on the line.” You manage to keep your voice level and calm. Jake’s knee hits the table, and you squeeze again. “I remember the stories that you and my dad tell.” “We spent our days saving lives, girl. Not showboating in planes.” Your eyes flicker to Jake. His eyes have dropped to his plate, and his throat works as he swallows hard. His shoulders curve in on themselves, and you watch as the man you love so much shrink in his chair. You slam your hand against the table, causing your own utensils to rattle against your plate. “You are mistaken.” When those green eyes flash your way, you clear your throat. “You are mistaken, sir.” “Having your woman fight your battles for you? I thought I had a son, not a fourth daughter.” You get to your feet so quickly that the chair squeaks against the hardwood floor. “I am not fighting any battles for Jake. I’m fighting with him. That’s what partners do, Aaron. Maybe if you spent some time outside of your own asshole, you’d realize that no one at this table shares your opinion.” Aaron wipes at his thin lips with a linen napkin. “It will serve you well to mind your tone, young lady. My opinions on my son’s lackluster career and life choices are none of your concern.” “Lackluster?” The word feels leaden in your mouth. “You do realize that Jake is a highly decorated officer? That he’s in the top one percent of all pilots.” Your hands are shaking, even as you grip the edge of the table to steady yourself. “Your son cares so fucking much for the people in his life that he was willing to come back here and sit at this table with you. You treat your muck boots better than you treat him, and frankly, sir, I don’t know where you get off calling yourself a father.” “You need to remember your place, young lady, if your father heard you speaking—” “My place is at his side,” you glance toward Jake. “My dad would be proud of me, because he wouldn’t recognize you.” White hot pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, and you clear your throat. “Excuse me.” You manage to push away from the table and leave the room. You’re on autopilot, and you find yourself on the back porch, the wooden railing biting into your palms with how hard you’re gripping it. You inhale deliberately, breathing slowly out your nose trying to keep your supper down. Your heart hurts, and there’s a dull throb behind your eyes. The adrenaline from going toe to toe with Jake’s father is ebbing away, and you can’t control the trembling any longer. Your breath catches in your throat, coming out in shaking sobs as the tears start to fall. Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you back against a solid chest. You turn, burying your face in the soft cotton of his shirt, gripping tight to it. Jake has one hand pressed to the back of your head, the other to the small of your back, holding you tight against him. “I will spend the rest of my life, making sure you never cry like this again.” His lips press to the crown of your head. “Jake—” He tips your chin up, kissing the tears from your cheeks. “Sarah says we can stay at her place. Benny’s working overnight.” He pauses, a small smile twitching onto his face. “She said she was going to give you the shovel talk, but apparently after what you said to the old man, she has nothing to worry about.” “What about your momma?” He kisses your forehead, “don’t worry about her darlin’. You’re not the only one who has something to say to him.” He holds your face so gently in his hands, thumbs tracing over your cheekbones. “Let’s get out of here.” Jake leads you by the hand to his truck, opening the door for you, helping you up into it. Once he’s got it in gear, his hand is in yours once more. He drives off his parents’ property and onto the back roads, taking you deeper into the sprawling Texas landscape. He drives for a while pulling off on another narrow road, following the trail up hill. It levels out, and he parks. Stars had begun to fill the night sky, a blanket of brilliance above. He turns the engine off leaving the headlights, and radio on. “Come on,” He’s holding his hand out to you, the passenger door open. You’re pressed tight to him, slow dancing in the beams of the headlights. Jake’s humming along with the song, and you close your eyes getting lost in him. His cologne is warm and spicy, you can smell the sunshine on his shirt, the warmth of his body sinking into yours. “I love you,” you whisper ear pressed to his chest, listening to the soothing steady beat of his heart. “Why did I wait so long?” “You’re more stubborn than I am.” He’s got his cheek pressed to your head. Gently he’s pulling away, spinning you before bringing you back to him. “But we have the rest of our lives to argue over who is more stubborn.” He brings your left hand to his mouth, kissing your palm. He’s stopped moving, digging in his pocket with his other hand. Jake drops to one knee, still holding onto your hand. “I had so many things planned to say to you. I wanted to do this differently. I wanted—to make it special for you. I thought about this for weeks. Planned every second, agonized over it.” He licks his lips, the warmth in his eyes overwhelming. “Bobby reminded that every time I’m with you, it is special. You’re special.” You have never heard your name sound more beautiful than when it passes his lips. “Please, marry me?” You nod frantically even as he’s sliding the solitaire diamond ring onto your finger. “Yes, yes. I will.” He gets to his feet, gathering you up into a tight hug. He’s shaking in your arms and you can feel his tears against your shoulder.

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