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silverflqmes · 1 month

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you are legit my favorite ffvii writer at the moment dude. if you feel like it, do you think you can write smth about being childhood friends w zack and reuniting with him one day? make sure to take care of yourself 💕 :)

໒⦂ 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆.

notes. HELP YOU’RE SO SWEET ANON??? IWOWJDJDK i haven’t written as much yet and i still have lots to learn but that really warmed my heart to hear 🥹🥹🥹 i decided to combine this with another request, i hope that’s okay with you both!<3

genre. fluff + angst

disclaimer. tifa speaking on cloud can either be platonic or romantic — whatever you wanna think just don’t start up a whole ship war bc it’s embarrassing as hell. obviously this is a zack fic so focus on zack smh.

zack fair x gn!reader.

“you’re.. leaving for SOLDIER?”

you shouldn’t be shocked, that was the last thing you should have been since you had been the one to encourage his decision.

and yet.. why did it hurt? you had known that it would, it was only naturally — but not like this.

zack averted his stare from the star blanketed sky, smiling solemnly. “sure am. you helped me realize that becoming a hero is something that i should do — that the world needed my kind of help.. so that’s,” he paused, allowing the evening breeze to shift his dark bangs. “exactly what i gotta do.”

you fell into silence for a moment, pursing your lips together as you considered his words.

it had been your crush’s dream from young, since seeing sephiroth on propaganda and hearing of his endeavors, to become a hero. the life he’d led in gongaga was wonderful, peaceful.. but you knew, deep down, he’d wanted to make that name for himself. that zack was.. meant for greater things.

and you, torn between your feelings for him and the need to encourage him as his best friend.. had no choice but to put aside what you felt to urge him to embrace his dreams.

when he received no answer, the raven haired teen took it as a sign to continue, leaning back on his elbows. “as of now, you’re the only one i’ve told about my decision — cuz well.. as you know, my parents aren’t super chill with it.” he laughed out, shaking his head. “so i’m gonna leave tomorrow night. got everything packed up already, a letter ready for them to pass on and i’ll be good to go!”

“tomorrow night? so soon?” you nearly interrogated him, only to respond with a slow nod. “you have my word, don’t worry about it.” should you tell on your friend? would that keep him just a little while longer if his parents knew and prevented his departure? would he hate you for it and finally give you a reason to stop feeling this way about him?

no.. you couldn’t live with yourself if he had hated you. that was practically death served on a silver platter, your heart would never start again if zack had expressed contempt for you.

for a second, longing flashed in his eyes before he allowed himself to grin, patting your back gently. “you’re amazing y/n!! i knew i could count on you no matter what! i’ll be sure to bring you something real nice from the big city!! and that’s a promise!”

a smile that didn’t quite meet your gaze etched itself onto your lips as you let out a hum of agreement. “you’re the amazing one, zack. i’ll..” miss you. “..be holding you to that promise, so you better keep it.”

three years passed and no sign of zack. the promise stood, but remained unfulfilled.

you should have expected it, that becoming a SOLDIER meant never seeing him again. you knew he was alive, a letter would have come if he wasn’t, and his parents kept you posted thankfully.

yet, there was still an emptiness you felt in his absence. every year, you’d told yourself that perhaps maybe, he would come home to visit this time.

now, having turned eighteen, you had decided to leave the comfort of gongaga as zack once had, and journeyed to nibelheim — a village in the mountains. it was small, quaint as your hometown was, perhaps colder, but after being offered a job through your parents, it called to you.

your mother had been from nibelheim and met your father in midgar — who had left gongaga to pursue a career in research as she had.

despite their retirement, they had developed many connections.. one of which, had been in the mountain village.

when you pleaded to leave and join up with your friend in the city he’d left for, your parents had urged you not to, and were strict on it.. as though something had been terribly wrong there.

you’d never asked why they retired so early on, and just assumed they had wanted to settle since they’d made their money.

but it didn’t.. fully seem that way.

“didja hear y/n? there’s a group of SOLDIERS coming down here tonight. ahhh, i hope cloud is there — i haven’t seen him in years.” your companion and guide sighed out, pacing about idly as you jotted down notes on your observations of the terrain.

tifa had been a friend you’d made upon your arrival. she was a year younger, but a real go getter and great help on your expeditions. in the beginning you worried for her safety, stringing her along as you did — only for her to protect you from the perils you feared.

you’d have to ask if that mentor of hers was willing to show you a move or two on self defense.

“cloud, huh? is he in SOLDIER, too?” you had told the girl before you already about your old buddy, as there was no possible way of her exposing your feelings for him.

and honestly, it was comforting to confide in someone for a change.

she nodded eagerly at your question, smiling softly. “he should be, it was his dream to become a SOLDIER, like sephiroth — that’s what he told me one day before he left.. and he’d promised to always protect me, no matter what.”

your writing seemed to pause at her comment, head lowering as you willed yourself to chuckle despite your anguish. “is that so?” zack, as you recalled, had dreamt of the same. “well, i hope he comes home safe if he’s a part of that group.” you smiled a little, closing your notebook before standing up from your crouched position.

“that should be enough for today, thanks for coming along again — i think i’m almost there with reaching my conclusion on this strange increase in mako spillage on the landscape.. but i just- can’t seem to put my finger on it.” you muttered, knitting your brows together before casting a glance over at mt. nibel- the highest point of the area you had moved to. “whatever, they’re keeping in that reactor.. there’s something really off about it.”

the burgundy eyed female followed your gaze before humming absentmindedly. “yeah.. i’m hoping those guys coming today might know or at least clean up over there.. i’d hate to see what might happen if the pollution intensifies down here.” she answered softly, helping you up before looking ahead. “for now, let’s get back — it’s almost sundown.”

at the mention of the visitors on their way from midgar, your thoughts went to your old friend, but you reprimanded yourself quickly. you would not have hopes again — as they only ever existed to get shattered and turn into despair.

and yet.. that one percentage asking but what if, remained.

the sun had drowned into billowing clouds, a shade of golden casting over the scenery as you walked beside your friend, exhaustion creeping up on you. however, you reminded yourself that the descent was always easier than the ascent.

“and we’re back, thank you for taking the tifa express way~” your travel partner giggled, earning a smile in return from you. she always had a way of brightening the mood with her optimism. kind of like.. nevermind.

the brunette looked around when she found the villagers gathered in the centre, adjusting her hat with a pout. “did we just miss them? i didn’t think we would be this late..”

you copied her actions, letting out a sound of contemplation. “maybe they turned in, midgar is a long way from here.. i’m sure they wanted to just take things easy for the night and start off fresh tomorrow.”

tifa paused for a minute to think before letting out a sigh and nodding. “i guess you have a point — tomorrow, then.” she smiled again, holding out her thumb. “i’m gonna be their guide, i’ll make sure of it!”

you rolled your eyes in amusement before nudging her with your elbow. “whatever helps you sleep at night, tifa.. i’ll catch you in the morning, in that case. i still gotta sort some things with information i picked up today.” a trip to that mako reactor and your research might at last be complete. perhaps.. you could convince the group in bringing you along- especially if your friend would be going.

it was the perfect in!

“mhm, see you in the morning, y/n! don’t be up all night doing that work of yours if you wanna wake up on time!”

with those parting words, followed by a wave, the female dressed in orange walked towards the direction of her home, eagerly greeting her father at the door before joining him inside.

your shoulders fell, a low exhale escaping your lips as you adjusted your backpack. and just like that, she was gone.

you made your way into the inn you’d been staying at for the time being, rubbing your eyes.

it was a temporary arrangement, given you hadn’t fully decided yet if you would be staying permanently in nibelheim. however, the living accommodations worked just fine.

you hadn’t thought yourself difficult to please, anyway. so long as you had the necessary essentials needed to live, all was well. that was what you’d learned growing up in gongaga.

entering the inn, you greeted the host before ascending the steps, pausing when you caught sight of a towering, silver haired.. male? unless a woman could stand at nearly seven feet.. and across from him, stood.. no — had your eyes deceived you?

“z-zack..?”

the conversation between the pair, whatever it had been about, came to a full stop as they turned to face you, shock painting on the face of the SOLDIER with the darker hair.

“y/n..??” he spoke up incredulously, blinking over at you as his jaw fell just slightly. “no way- what’re you doing here.. in nibelheim of all places? i thought you were-”

“in gongaga?” you asked with a small smile before shaking your head. “my parents found me work here, so i moved just a few months ago. never thought i’d see you here, before returning home, no less.”

zack could feel the coldness of your words, piercing through him like icicles tipped in poison. pissed was an understatement.

the taller behind him smiled awkwardly before moving towards his door, not wanting to be muddled into the affairs of his triend. “i believe you both have some catching up to do.. i will see you in the morning, zack.”

the boy in question parted his lips in protest, but the cat-eyed male was gone before he could do so. damn!

awkwardly, he turned to meet your awaiting stare, swallowing thickly.

“sorry, i’ve.. had a lot going on.” he confessed, lowering his head in shame. “i wanted to come home sooner — especially after making first class just recently- but things.. everything that has been going on as of late at shinra, it’s been really messed up.” zack confessed, clenching his fists at his side before letting out a glum chuckle. “and it just keeps getting weirder.. what were the odds i’d find you here of all places?”

you leaned against the window, folding your arms as you gazed out. “close to none. i guess it’s a thing of fate, maybe.” you offered, sliding your eyes back to his zircon ones. “seems my parents were right to not send me to the city with whatever ‘messed up things’ that happened.”

the SOLDIER nodded, allowing a brief silence to pass before smiling. “they probably were, yeah.. don’t think you would have liked midgar much, anyway. it’s all gross and industrial looking.. although!” he blurted suddenly, perking up as though he’d remembered something. “wait right here, i’ve got something i want to give you!”

you rose a brow at his random burst of energy, reminding you that despite the change in his appearance, the development he had gone through.. he was still your zack, and that wouldn’t change.

he disappeared into his room before you could answer, rummaging by the noises you’d made out, which had you shielding your mouth with your hand. “don’t get lost in there, now.”

“like i would!” he laughed before emerging from his quarters, holding out a messily wrapped box for you. “no matter where i went, i always kept this with me, thinking that maybe- just maybe, i would pass through our hometown and find you to hold up that promise i made to you. finally,” the spiky haired SOLDIER paused, grinning brightly. “i was able to fulfill it!”

you blinked in surprise, taking the package into your hand as you felt your face burn despite the coldness provided by the high altitudes of nibelheim. “you.. remembered?”

appalled, zack let out a gasp of offense. “remembered? how could i forget?? a promise is a promise, and i intended on keeping it!” he huffed out before raising his fists before him in excitement. “now come on, open it!!”

overcome with a sudden happiness, to know you hadn’t been forgotten despite the negative thoughts you’d created, you opened up his gift to you with earnest. a glimpse of green entered your vision as you quirked a curious brow. a plant? no.. zack wasn’t the type to keep plants.

finally removing the top completely, you stared down at the present before stifling a laugh into your forearm. “you- you got me a cactuar.. stuffed toy?” you spluttered in surprise.

of course he did — it was zack for goodness sake..

“sure did!! ya like it?? it looked authentic when i saw it in the window!” he answered proudly, placing his hands on his hips.

you continued laughing, unable to contain yourself as you held your stomach. “it’s so random- but that’s.. that’s just like you to get me!” you wiped a tear, allowing a smile nearly as bright as his, or perhaps- even brighter for a change, to replace your initial frown. “i love it a lot, but.. you wanna know what i love more?”

a mixture of interest and excitement sparked in his eyes as he inched closer, eager to hear. “what? what is it??”

having caught your breath, you closed your eyes, holding the plush close to your heart. “being here- reunited with you, again..”

like an invisible string, knots and tangles had appeared in the thread that connected you both. however, it wasn’t impossible to unravel and detangle that which connected you both, to allow an opportunity of reunion.

( even if it was the right place, but sadly.. the wrong time. )

notes. bittersweet open ending cuz well.. it’s nibelheim- anyway, i hope this was okay! i think my writing style kinda changed.. scary. oh well! the support these last few days have been much appreciated<3 tysm you guys, hearts out to you fr<3

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

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ladyylavenderrr · 1 year

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At first, Luigi is hopeful. He sits in his (admittedly comfortable) cell with his head held high. He looks out the window and imagines what his brother will do when he finally comes for him. There’s no question that Bowser will get the beating of a lifetime, of course, but Luigi still wonders how the showdown will go. He occupies his mind by imagining it all.

After 4 days, Luigi starts to get worried. He and his brother had never taken this long to rescue Peach when she’d gotten captured. Bowser must have realized this too for he soon takes the time to actually speak to Luigi.

“Your brother busy or something?”, he jokes. It gets a chuckle out of Luigi. Only a small one.

After an entire week has passed, Luigi stops responding to his captor entirely. It’s a real shame. The two had been having nice conversations. Bowser is a nice guy behind his tough façade. The constant kidnapping thing he has going on isn’t ideal, but at least he’s not cruel.

Once Luigi goes silent, Bowser starts bringing him more and more of his meals personally. He smiles kindly when Luigi finally takes a bite after an entire hour of refusing and it’s the only thing that awakens Luigi from his depressive state, if only slightly. Bowser keeps talking throughout these interactions, even if his captive won’t respond.

After two weeks, as Luigi sits on his little bed, slowly sipping at his soup, he finally cracks. His sobs come so suddenly, they surprise even him. The man barely even registers Bowser kneeling in front of him. He perhaps says something but Luigi can’t hear him. He’s too busy sobbing pathetically onto his meal.

He’s not sure how he finds himself in the koopa’s arms, sobs shaking him violently. He’s not sure who was the one to even go in for the hug, if Bowser pulled him down to the floor or if he himself leaped towards him in a panic. Either way, Luigi shakes and clings to the king in desperation.

Bowser lets him out of his cell not long after.

After 3 weeks, Luigi begins throwing things in fits of intense anger. Even though Bowser has allowed him to leave his cell and wander the castle, he doesn’t. Luigi mostly just stays in his room. If before he was depressed, now he was angry. He snaps at any servant that dares approach, he punches walls and screams into his pillow. Bowser is the only one to not get angry. When servants glare as he throws the meals they brought, when nearby guards yell as they restrain him, Bowser is calm and kind. That fact just makes Luigi all the more furious.

“Get out!” Luigi weakly throws a chair. Bowser stays still. “Why won’t you leave?!” Bowser stays still. Luigi lets out a scream of frustration and tears at his pillow. “Just get rid of me! Just hurt me already!” Bowser doesn’t. He just stays still, an unreadable expression on his face.

When Luigi tires himself out he falls to the floor and cries. He finds Bowser there to hold him once more. “Why aren’t you mad at me?”, Luigi chokes out through his tears. Bowser doesn’t respond.

After a month, Luigi finally starts going out. He walks in the gardens (quaint as they may be compared to those in the mushroom kingdom) and almost feels like himself again. He helps out in the kitchens and feels joy fill his being once more. When he’s introduced to Jr, he takes to him immediately and the two bond quickly. Luigi notices that he isn’t guarded anymore and when he’s by the palace gates, he’s not looked at with suspicion. The message is clear and the opportunity is there. Luigi doesn’t take it.

“Why don’t you leave?”, Bowser asks him one day. The two are sat in the royal library and Luigi is caught off guard by the question. Their conversation had been cheerful and lighthearted up until that point, about nothing in particular. It takes a moment for Luigi to answer but he finally responds with “Why would I?”

“Don’t you have friends you miss?”

“I don’t want to think about them…”

He thinks about Daisy, about his friends in the toad villages. He can’t bring himself to imagine going back to them, to a life outside of Bowser’s kingdom.

“Besides, where would I even go? Back to him?”

The way Luigi hisses the phrase out is enough to keep Bowser quiet. The koopa stares at nothing yet his attention is clearly still on Luigi.

“You’re the one who took care of me at my lowest. Not him.”

Luigi takes his hand with his own, shaking nervously.

“I don’t want to go back. I want to stay with you.”

The silence between the two stretches on endlessly.

“You wouldn’t abandon me, would you?”

Bowser looks away, his face red, but when Luigi feels him squeeze his hand, he knows he has his answer.

After 2 months, Luigi gives up on the idea of the mushroom kingdom ever coming to a peace with the Koopa Kingdom, at least not in his lifetime. Luigi finds the prejudices he believed about the residents of this kingdom to be nothing but a fabrication. Luigi can’t even recall why the two kingdoms hate each other so much. He only knows that things have always been this way and that’s how they’re destined to remain. Bowser speaks to him about his recent revelations about the unending conflict, about his failed attempts to find peace with Princess Peach. The distrust runs too deep, it seems.

“Is that why you kidnapped me then? Were you upset you had failed again?”, Luigi finds himself asking.

“Not really. But I’ve always kidnapped someone, right? It’s what I do, even if I’ve stopped being sure why.”, Bowser’s eyes were far away. “I guess I just wanted someone new to take.”, he chuckles.

Luigi finds himself smiling and laughing alongside him. “I’m glad you did.”, he speaks. Despite all that’s happened, despite being abandoned by his brother, Luigi can’t help but thank fate for bringing him to Bowser. He’s found someone who’s good for him, someone who cares for him, warts and all.

It’s too bad a red-capped hero slowly making his way toward Bowser’s castle has to ruin it all

#mario bros #mario #Bowuigi #dark fic #kinda #more like bittersweet #mario movie #not really tho #shoutout to Bend or Break for inspiring this #I live for morally ambiguous Bowuigi #fanfiction #lgbtq #bittersweet #can’t believe I wrote this #Luigi has issues #and his relationship with Bowser is a bit unhealthy #arcane vibes #fic #corruption arc

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iforimaginary · 6 months

Text

May I entice the masses with the concept of a Will Wood Jukebox Musical?

Around a month ago me and a good friend of mine were listening to Will Wood’s discography and they offhandedly threw “Wouldn’t it be cool if someone made a Mama Mia equivalent with his songs?” into the air.

This thought stuck with me for a while until I found myself incredibly bored during a 3 hour-long road trip and decided to kill some time.

Preface aside, I present…

[ Welcome To Suburbia The Musical ]

↓↓↓

Brochure Designs:

Narrative Summary:

A young couple attempt to escape the hardships of life by moving to a far-off picture-perfect town known by locals as ‘Suburbia’. Despite it’s shining appearance, the couple are troubled by unsettling peculiarities bursting at the suburb’s seams- but what’s a village without a little cooky culture?

Character Breakdown:

• James Campbell - An alcohol-dependent horror writer down on his publishing luck.

• Dai Lu Lee - A doctor specialising in the care of farm animals with an unfortunate talent for disappointing her parents.

• Cassie Logan - James & Dai Lu’s next door neighbour with an unsettling sense of humour.

• Morgan Logan - Cassie’s reserved wife working as a forensic investigator for the local PD with a predisposition to bad first impressions.

• Lin Lee - Dai Lu’s headstrong traditional father.

• Ming Lee - Dai Lu’s passive narcissistic mother.

• Mayor - Confident and charismatic front man of Suburbia with a messy past who’s always ready to offer a helping hand.

• Barkeeper - Eccentric and off-putting owner of a local bar that appears to be a front for a darker business.

• Therapist - Patient woman tending to Dai Lu’s psychiatrical and psychological needs.

• Secretary (Non-singing ensemble role) - Nerdy and shy assistant of The Mayor who is desperately enamoured, head-over-heels for her employer.

Act Synopses:

[Act 1]

James and Dai Lu, freshly engaged and already exhausted from life’s baggage, strike a ‘too-good-to-be-true’ deal on a down payment for a quaint home in the unmarked town of Suburbia. After being warmly welcomed by the ever so charming Mayor and their next door neighbours Cassie and Morgan, the couple begin to unwillingly face some of their fatal flaws as Dai Lu is forced to stare her regretful decision making right in its ugly face.

[Act 2]

James may recognise his now hard-to-hide attachment to alcohol, but he is far from apologetic about it. Frequenting a newly discovered bar on the outskirts of town results in his fiancée finding herself in a rather unusual predicament. Forced to work for a sleazy underground cabaret bar, she preforms a number detailing The Mayor’s dark and unfortunate past. All the while, The Mayor himself is trying to seduce her partner into a life overflowing with sin and dubious spiritual ties. Upon being reunited through the brilliant detective work of Morgan, the couple have yet another handful of complicated feelings to sort through.

[Act 3]

Decades of pious work from The Mayor’s hands finally come to a head as he no longer attempts to hide his servitude to a being he was never quite sure how to please. The town descends into uncertain insanity as every individual is consumed by their corrosive and abandoned insecurities. Dai Lu never quite moves past her disagreements with her parents, James never quite makes peace with being an utterly unremarkable writer and Morgan never quite solves the case that’s been scratching at the back of her mind for years. All those lives are, however, lost in vain as The Mayor misinterprets his Patron’s asks. The town of Suburbia stands desolate, bare, and belonging to a man who’s greatest desire is to be rid of it’s burden.

Songs By Act:

(Act 1)

Suburbia Overture (Mayor, Ensemble)

The Main Character (James)

Marsha… (Lee Family)

Against The Kitchen Floor (James)

Momento Mori… (Morgan)

Well, Better Than… (Dai Lu)

(Act 2)

The First Step (James)

Willard! (Mayor)

Front Street (Barkeeper, Ensemble)

Venetian Blind Man (Dai Lu)

Black Box Warrior (Therapist)

Your Body, My Temple (Mayor, Ensemble)

Sex, Drugs, Rock’n’Roll (James)

Cover This Song (Cassie)

Outliers (Mayor)

Love Me, Normally (James)

(Act 3)

Vampire Culture [S.O. Reprise] (Mayor, Cassie, Morgan, Ensemble)

Lapce’s Angel (Mayor)

Hand Me My Shovel (Cassie, Morgan, Ensemble)

Dr Sunshine (Dai Lu, Ensemble)

Cotard’s Solution (James, Ensemble)

Song With Five Names (Mayor, Ensemble)

2012 (James, Dai Lu, Mayor, Ensemble)

Naturally there is a much larger and in depth plot summary, thought-out blocking for musical numbers and some in progress character designs that I have crammed into my Master Doc for this behemoth of an original work.

Keep in mind this concept is far from finalised, more characters may be added and more songs might be written into the narrative.

I’d be more than happy to go more in detail about it and accept any form of suggestions or feedback if the users of Tumblr happen to find this interesting :)

In the mean time, if you find yourself interested in this work and would like to listen to the songs in chronological order I have compiled a playlist you can find bellow… ↓↓↓

#will wood #will wood and the tapeworms #jukebox musical #original work #original musical #work in progress #shamless promotion #welcome to suburbia #calling all will wood and musical theatre fans #i sincerely hope more people are going to be into this than just me and my bf #feedback is appreciated #Spotify

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pushing500 · 14 days

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Buckeye is a bit of a plant snob, I think. It makes sense in a way because she seems to be part plant, but the biliog are designed to grow psychite and have improved plant skill in their genetics, so... Maybe Buckeye just thinks Blackdragon's not pretty enough to work in her garden.

Our new Hussar colonist Curly only likes one of the cult members, but Socks considers him a rival.

Nineteen-year-old Curly is also, somehow, twenty-nine-year-old Vasso's granduncle.

And finally, it's time for the final colony tour of Loyalty's Meander before we set off to hopefully cover the last leg of the journey to the crashed ship!

Presenting... Loyalty's Meander!

It's a quaint little settlement with not too much going on—aside from the giant murder church. I'm sure nearby settlements consider that more of a tourist attraction than a threat, though, right? Right?

The central hub of the colony is the kitchen/dining space, with room for prisoners/spare food off towards the south.

There are some very productive fields and a stonecutting station set up in the centre of the colony.

To the left is the saplingchild pen that recently saw the births of Magic Man and Buckeye's daughters, Blackthorn and Bluegum. We also have a tailorshop/art studio, and a guest bedroom.

Vance's room comes next. It was hastily constructed off to the side because he joined us later. Of course, we also have a dinosaur museum. I love dinosaur museums.

The main bedrooms are built in a sort of apartment-style structure, with a hospital and a bathroom at one end.

The laboratory is tacked on to the end of the apartment block, and it doubles as a classroom for the many children around the colony, though only Dire Wolf and Night Stalker ever used it because the others are still babies or toddlers, and Bella and Pro are adults now.

The garage, another bathroom, and our archery target for shooting recreation.

The rec room/fabrication room. This used to be our temple before some traders came by and sold us a prefab which became...

...The spookiest darn church you ever did see <3

They also sold us a prefab for a "Viking Village," which we turned into a guest motel and Curly's bedroom, where he could do grumpy nonbeliever Hussar things away from the rest of the gang.

Last but not least are our animal pens and the barn. The boomalopes have a separate pen because they tend to explode when things don't go their way, and we can't risk losing Shamrock, the lucky donkey.

So there you have it! The end of Loyalty's Meander, and one step closer to escape <3

First | Next | Previous

#rimworld #gracie plays #The Children of Ecthuctu #art #my art #traditional art #rimworld art #unpolished art #poor Blackdragon and Curly #Maybe the two of them will be friends #though I doubt it #I hope we can make the marathon journey in one go #Then I can FINALLY get Anomaly #I've been trying to avoid spoilers but I WANNA PLAY IT SO BAD #how exciting~#have a fabulous day everyone! xoxo

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spacesquidlings · 4 months

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Thorns

Description: Connecting with family can be wondrous, but it can also cause heartache and strife. And when she's caught in a fight, he saves her

Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (Aspen)

Warnings: Threats of physical violence

A/N: Although being with family over the holidays is supposed to be full of love and warmth, it very rarely is. I've been lucky the past number of years that my holidays have usually been fun and joyous, and I've looked forward to the parties and gatherings. As I've gotten older though, things have become more and more difficult, and this year especially has been much harder in a lot of ways (I won't bore you all with the details but it's been difficult to say the least). I've simplified this fic a bit so as not to bore anyone with the complexities of a very large extended family unit, and paired it down to feature mentions of a more condensed family. Please forgive me this indulgence, but writing this brought me some comfort and closure after a difficult situation on Christmas eve. I hope it can give someone else even a little bit of comfort and safety and the knowledge that you are loved, and that you are good as you are. Happy holidays you guys I am sending my love <3

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

Fights happened, that’s just the way families were. At least that’s what she’d been told.

She’d been told a lot of things. That she could be terribly angry, that she was always angry, that she often screamed, that she was always horribly loud, that she could be thorny and sharp. And although she never tried to be a creature of wrath and noise, it seemed that such a beast was forever lurking beneath her skin, waiting to unsheath its claws.

So too had she been told that she could be too much. That she needed to dampen her voice as one extinguished a flame, leaving only smoke to show it had been there at all.

And some of it was true, she was certain. In the back of her mind she knew she could be loud, that she could be a bit much. She would lose herself in her excitement, her passions. The flurry of emotions, as raging as a hurricane, would overtake her. Whether it be in joy or excitement or heartache or anger, she would lose herself, and sometimes it took a steadying hand to bring her back.

She did not have a steadying hand that night.

It had been years since she had seen her family, absconding from their home with the intent to make a life for herself in Baldur’s Gate before being stolen by the mind flayers. She had written letters to them since, but she had settled nicely into her life with Astarion, finding joy and contentment like nothing she had felt before. So it had been ages since she had seen them, so focused was she on the moments of excitement and the moments of repose with her lover.

But with the holidays coming up, she’d wanted to see them. She had wanted to see her family again. She was on good terms with nearly all of them, although there was a strange distance that had grown between herself and her father. Yet that surely would not matter, not when she wanted to see everyone, when she wanted to reconnect and laugh and be in their company once more.

Astarion had obliged, musing about how he’d like to meet the people she had grown up with, and perhaps take a peek at old paintings of her as a child, and look for old beloved toys and books to tease her about later.

So they had sent a letter to her mother, and they had packed their belongings, and they had headed out to the village she had grown up in.

It was not a backwater by any means, but when they first arrived she gazed upon the central market, the rows of quaint houses that skirted the village borders, and felt strange. It was all as familiar to her as a recurring dream, and unknown as an uncharted land unmarked on any map.

It had been her home, but it was not her home any longer. She was a piece of a puzzle that no longer fit, this small world shifting around her absence, filling in the gaps as surely as she had filled in the gaps that had been left in her.

She’d spent the day with Astarion, clutching his hand tightly, the ring that allowed him to walk in the daylight glittering like a star plucked from the night sky on his finger. They’d gone through all of her favourite shops, had paused in restaurants to enjoy some of the foods she hadn’t had in ages, before finally arriving at her parents’ home.

Her heart had fluttered like an injured bird, and she considered turning tail and running. But with Astarion’s hand in hers she felt brave, felt safe as she knocked on the door, as she was greeted by the delighted shouts of her mother, of her siblings, of her grandparents.

The reunion was not without its awkwardness, exacerbated by Astarion delighting in stories of when she’d been in a child, and finding old paintings that had gathered dust of her childhood self. He’d even managed to find his way to her old room, the one she had occupied barely a week before she had first met him.

Laughing, he had wiggled beloved stuffed dolls above her head, teasing her as he pretended to play, eliciting annoyed shouts at first, and then laughter as she’d tickled his sides until he’d conceded.

She’d been able to fall into a comfortable routine with her family, and with her lover at her side. The years of adventuring had not diminished her love for them, nor had it made theirs falter. She no longer fit within the village, but she was still welcomed, still accepted.

Their plan had been to stay for a few weeks, touring the village and some of the larger cities nearby, and catching up with family and old friends. Most days Aspen and Astarion would spend their mornings together, Astarion lying on her chest like a weighted blanket, murmuring that he was too comfortable to move even as the sun made its way across the sky. Then they would dress, invite one of her siblings or her mother along with them, and they would head out into the world.

In the evenings they would return, and he would roll up his sleeves and offer to help with the cooking and cleaning her mother often did. It added to the strange delightfulness of everything, Astarion offering to do something he had often whined about at length when their relationship was still new as spring blooms.

It felt almost blissful, a strange sort of dream she found herself walking in. A scrap of domesticity, a glimpse into what life with him would be like if they ever settled down. If they ever decided to put down roots.

But as much as those days warmed Aspen’s heart, they could not last. It was all too good to be true, the softest, most magical part of the dream right before she awoke. The calm before the rage of a storm.

She loved her family, so entirely she did not always have the words to explain it. But as much as she loved them, they frustrated her beyond belief, beyond words or understanding. The little words that cut like a knife into her heart, picking at her life, at her interests and hobbies, at her choices.

The only difference now was that she no longer wandered her family’s home and the village roads with open wounds, dripping blood into the snow-covered cobblestones. When they wounded her with sharpened words, Astarion was there to stitch her back together, to hold her until the tightness in her chest began to loosen, knots coming undone.

There was never any true malice behind their words and actions, but that did not mean that it hurt her any less.

She loved them, but they frustrated her. The more time she spent with them the more things weighed her down, the more things chipped away at her confidence, at the slivers of courage she had found travelling Faerûn, at her own heart. She could feel parts of herself fading away, withering like flowers in a storm, like dying leaves falling from ashen branches.

Aspen was reminded of how difficult family could be, and none were more difficult than the man who called himself her father.

Just as surely as she’d been told she could be too much, she’d been told she needed to be careful around this man. To dance delicately around things that triggered his rage, to tiptoe through a field of eggshells to ensure nothing cracked.

But Aspen was not a rogue, not like her beloved, able to slink silently through shadows, able to dance through fields of fire, able to whisper honeyed words that calmed most people before aggravation could explode.

How could she, when there was a monster beneath her skin? And though she’d thought it finally tamed, it returned in a fury easily, far too easily for her liking.

It was a night when Astarion was not with her, when they were a hairsbreadth from the holidays and she was helping to cook and bake. Grating cheese and chopping veggies, measuring out chocolate and stirring batter.

Astarion had slipped out earlier in search of something he would not divulge. He would only grin in mischief, tap her nose playfully, and promise he wouldn’t be out too late.

And without him nearby, she’d had nothing but her songs and stories to while away her time with. So she had volunteered to help cook and bake with her mother, taking part in what had been a little tradition between the two of them when she’d still lived with her family.

Things had gone well enough, and they’d successfully prepared many treats for the holidays and the revelry everyone would be taking part in.

It had come as a surprise when her father had entered, forcing his way into their comfortable space. He’d started doing something else entirely, plates and bowls clashing in a discordant clattering that had her ears ringing.

Although her ire had been stoked initially, she’d had no reason to pay it any heed. What he was doing was no crime, and her mother was forever asking her to strengthen the bonds between the two of them, to close the strange chasm separating them that neither was ever able to fully cross.

And it had been fine, at first. Casual conversation shared between the three of them, her younger siblings having retired to bed already, and Astarion still lost to the night and whatever wicked surprise he was searching for.

But then it had been not fine, and too late did Aspen realize the claws of the monster in her blood had come out.

Her voice raised, her heart thundering in her chest, a plea to be listened to, to be seen and understood as the adult she had become. That she was not a fool, that the aches in her heart for things he refused to believe were valid, were just, if only he would listen.

They’d had many shouting matches in the past, leaving open wounds that had pushed them further apart the older she grew. So when his voice rose she’d thought perhaps it would be the same as the others, words thrown like rocks back and forth until it fizzled out.

But she’d said that he’d been talking down to her, that he’d been talking to her like she were clueless, a child.

And that apparently, was too far.

The escalation was abrupt. Sudden movement, the man squaring his shoulders to seem larger as spit had flown from his mouth as his voice had risen further. His words had turned cruel, derogatory. How stupid she was, how childish, how she was no adult and spoke like a fool, and words so much crueler that had made her eyes burn.

He paced, shouting loud enough to rattle the ceiling. And she had raised her voice in kind, shrieking now, shrill and enraged at him, at herself for being hurt, for thinking they could mend the rift between them.

And then the threat, a threat heavy with certainty. That he would hit her for her impertinence if she did not stop.

Hit her as a parent hit a child, beat her as a parent who did not know how to navigate their emotions beat a child that misbehaved.

Red had filled her vision, her heart as good as stopped for she could no longer feel it. Her blood had boiled and she had flung her anger back at him, a furious reaction to such a threat.

Her mother had promised he would never hurt her, but her mother seemed oblivious to the times he had, when she’d been little. No more than a parent punishing a child, keeping a troublemaker in line. But she remembered the sharp pain, she remembered the stark cold of the tub, she remembered the acrid taste of soap and the way she had heaved as she’d been forced forward.

Not many times, but enough to burn themselves in her memory, enough that she shrunk whenever a man’s voice was raised. Enough that she shook despite her best efforts when senseless rage was directed at her.

Such a threat was not something she would abide. Not now, not anymore. She was no defenseless child, she had lived, she would not be threatened in a place she was meant to be safe.

She said as much, thinking she was safe.

But she was not. He moved swiftly, looming over her like a monster, so close his forehead pressed against hers. Spit flew into her face, her ears rang, as he screamed and screamed, deep rage like that of the flames of Avernus, directed at her, so close she could smell nothing but the rankness of his breath.

She screamed in return, demanding he move, to get away. But he did not, still pouring his fury against her.

In the back of her mind fear sprung forth, slick and oily as disease. Her body trembled, not that she noticed, and she knew, deep within herself, that he was nearing his limit. That he would hurt her if she did not keep pushing.

But how could she not? Until he used those damned ears to listen, to acknowledge she was not some thing he could use as he pleased.

She tensed in anticipation, knowing the blow would come sooner rather than later.

But what she did not expect was the new shout that erupted behind her father, a figure blocked from her view from the hulking mass of the man who had pressed his face into hers and would not move.

Astarion dug his fingers into the collar of the man’s shirt, yanking him back.

He stumbled, whirling on Astarion, hand raised.

And Astarion bared his teeth, a knife pointed at the man’s throat.

“Make one move and I slit your throat.”

A snort, over-confident and haughty. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Another flash of Astarion’s fangs, his eyes seeming to brighten to a bloody crimson. “I would hate to waste warm blood, but in this case I could make an exception.”

Wild eyes turned to her, fists clenching as hands fell to his sides. “What kind of monster have you brought into our home?”

“Eyes on me,” Astarion cooed, deadly soft. “Lower those hands and go somewhere to cool off and I won’t spill any blood.”

The man swore, shooting Aspen one more murderous look before stalking away, muscles tensed like he was still looking to fight.

Astarion sheathed his knife, a ferocious predator for only a moment longer before he turned to her. His eyes softened then, his lips murmuring soft words as he moved towards her, catching her shaking body before she could fall over.

“You’re alright, darling,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her brow. “You’re safe. You’re safe.”

Tears burned, but they did not fall. She was shivering like a dying tree in a windstorm, and she clutched at him, words choked by the sob that was lodged in her throat.

“Let’s find somewhere for you to sit down, shall we?” He guided her to the kitchen table, settled her into one of the chairs.

In the aftermath, as the fury leached from her skin, she felt cold. Cold as a winter’s night, cold as the darkest moments of a snow-storm, cold as the frozen lake at the border of the village, drowning in the darkened waters.

It was only then that her mother stepped forward, having seemed to have disappeared during the fight. She’d nearly forgotten she’d been there, helping her to bake before everything had unravelled.

“You know you’re both just so similar,” her mother said, letting out a breathy laugh. There was no humour in the sound, and her expression was pinched.

Astarion turned to peer at her mother over his shoulder, his expression inscrutable. “Excuse me?”

She shrugged, wringing her hands. “They provoke each other so much. And you know you did start it, Aspen. You know that’s a trigger for him.”

Astarion leaned back as though he’d been slapped. He blinked, not seeming to understand what he’d just heard. “What do you mean?”

Her mother didn’t hear the edge to his tone, but Aspen did, just as she saw the twitch of his brow, the slight downturn of his lips.

“She should have just agreed to disagree, that’s all.” Another shrug. “What he did was unacceptable, and he shouldn’t have acted like that. But you know you can be just like that, too.”

At her mother’s words Aspen shuddered, for an entirely new reason this time.

She knew of the creature beneath her skin, knew she had to keep it in check, but never had she felt like such a monster as she did now. Her mother softly berating her for provoking the man supposed to be her father.

She could feel it in her veins, roiling like the rage of a storming sea. The monster in her blood, the one that used her skin.

Had she minded her tongue this would not have happened, had she minded her tongue they would still be joyfully cooking, and Astarion would not have had to reveal his vampirism to her parents.

As her mother came forward to comfort her as well tears began to spill, streaking down her cheeks in rivers of flame.

She hardly noticed through the silver blur the room around her drowned in from her tears, the way Astarion’s expression tightened. She didn’t even notice the way his hands tightened on her shoulders, giving her mother almost no room to kneel beside her.

She wanted to cry to her mother, to be comforted, to be told it was not her fault.

But it was her fault, wasn’t it? A horrible monster ruining the holidays, ruining their family gathering on the eve of their celebrations. Ruining things just as she always did, tearing apart the delicate happiness that had been in the air.

“Absolutely not.”

The sharpness in Astarion’s tone made Aspen look up, searching for his eyes in the haze of tears. She made to wipe her eyes, but he gently pushed her hands away, the pads of his thumbs soft as they gently brushed away her tears.

She sniffed, her throat raw as she spoke. “What are you talking about?”

“I will not stand for such slander,” he said, gentle, but firm. “I will not allow for you to be slandered after such a threat.”

Her mother shot Astarion an incredulous look. “That’s hardly fair, and I don’t appreciate you sticking your nose in our business. He’s her father, he would never hurt her.”

“Wouldn’t he?” Astarion sounded eerily calm, his brow arching in bemusement. “Because that looked quite aggressive. That looked like someone on the verge of hitting someone else.”

Her mother opened her mouth to retort, but Astarion stood suddenly, cutting her off.

“No, this is not acceptable.” He offered Aspen his hand, his expression softening for half a breath until he returned his gaze to her mother. “From what I saw he nearly hurt her. He threatened to hurt her. And while my beloved can handle much, being threatened by her own father is not something she should never tolerate.”

His gaze was sharp as he gave her mother a once over. “Nor should she tolerate such nonsense from her mother.”

“You weren’t here at the beginning of the argument, you didn’t hear-”

“No, you’re right.” He cut her off, no humour in his smirk. “But I know her well, so I can guess well enough what happened. And raising her voice and saying a thoughtless comment does not deserve such a response.” Then, quieter. “Nothing does.”

Wordlessly, Aspen took his hand. He drew her to her feet, wrapping his arm around her waist. “We’re leaving, darling.”

Her legs shook, and she feared her knees would give out on her soon. “Where?”

“We’ll find an inn for the night,” he said, not sparing her mother a second glance. “Then we’ll head back to Baldur’s Gate at first light.”

Her mother got to her feet, regret in her eyes. “But the holidays start tomorrow, and we planned-”

Astarion’s response was a snarl. “You stood by and did nothing. You didn’t want to choose a side, but you did all the same.”

They packed quickly, Aspen in such a daze that Astarion packed her things for her, murmuring softly that she was okay, that she was safe, that he would make sure she was always safe.

It wasn’t until they had headed into the night, until they’d checked into the first inn they found, until Astarion guided her to the rickety bed and she fell back, that she truly began to sob.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, taking her into his arms. He tucked her head against his shoulder, not making a comment as she stained the fine fabric with snot and tears. “You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry!” She cried, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain, hands finding his shirt, balling the fabric up in her fists. “I’m sorry! I ruin everything!”

“Nonsense,” he breathed, smoothing her hair back from her face. “You don’t ruin anything.”

“Yes I do!” Her voice was a shrill shriek, and she nearly doubled over from the force of the sudden sobs that ripped from her throat. “I ruin everything. I ruin every friendship, I ruin my family’s happiness, one day I’ll ruin this.”

She pressed her face against his shoulder, her sobs muffled, if only barely. “I’m a monster. I’m a horrid beast, always so angry and I can’t even stop it. I can’t stop myself!”

“Aspen.” The steadiness of his voice gave her pause. He kept his voice soft, but there was a firmness to it, like iron, that quieted her cries.

“Aspen, darling, look at me.”

She sniffed, shaking her head. “I look horrible.”

A soft chuckle, his fingers running through her hair. “I don’t think that’s even possible, my love. Even drenched in gore you are beautiful. A few tears and snot will hardly stifle your beauty.”

She pulled away then, fixing a glower to her face. “Are you sure about that?”

He smiled, cupping her cheeks with such gentleness that a soft gasp escaped her lips. Did she deserve tenderness? Did she deserve even a scrap of his affection when she was a beast? When she would hurt him as surely as she hurt her father, her family?

“You are radiant,” he said, no sign of teasing in his eyes. “Beautiful as always.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. The screaming, the rage, being whisked away so late at night. “Astarion, you just watched me scream my lungs out at my father and then sob so hard I’m pretty sure I bruised my ribs.”

He tapped her cheek, his brow arching. “Don’t forget staining my shirt, too. This was silk, you know.”

“Oh Astarion, I’m so sorry.” The tears began all over again, spilling like she might drown in her misery. “I’ve ruined everything.”

“Darling, darling,” he clicked his tongue softly, brushing her tears away as he stroked her cheeks. “You have not ruined anything, and you are no monster.”

“But I-”

“Hush.” He could have spoken sharply, but his tone was whisper soft. His brows drew together, his lips tilting down. “You are not to blame.”

How did she explain to him? How did she explain the monster in her body, the beast beneath her skin?

“You don’t understand.” Her voice wobbled, thick and rough from tears and screaming and the sobs still caught in her throat.

He was being so soft, so gentle in the face of the catastrophe made flesh that she was. “Then help me to understand, my love.”

Her bottom lip quivered and she drew in deep breaths, her nose clogged with snot. “I ruin everything, I make a mess of everything. I push him too far, trigger him and make him angry. I don’t even try to, I don’t look for a fight but everyone tells me I do. I’m told I’m too loud, I’m too angry, and I don’t even know I am until it’s too late. I’ve ruined my most precious relationships, I ruined the holiday by making my father mad.”

Astarion listened quietly, brushing away her tears as they fell, until they had all spilled, and there was nothing but dried salt on her cheeks.

When she was done pouring out her fears, her terror of what she could be, he nodded, silent still. She wished he would speak, was desperate for him to say something.

Maybe he would push her away, tell her that he had made a mistake, that she was not who he’d thought she was. Maybe he would tell her that she truly was a beast just as she thought.

But what he did surprised her more.

He drew her face close, brought his lips to the corner of hers.

“You are no monster,” he said, soft as a lullaby. “You can be loud, and you can be a bit overzealous.”

At that he smirked, tapping her cheek. “But a monster you are not. If you’re truly scared, then when we return home we can find someone to help, so that what you feel is truly tamed.”

She sniffed, pulling at his shirt. “But I ruin so many things! What happens when I ruin us?”

He rolled his eyes, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. “My love, you have not ruined anything. You’ve told me of those friendships, and it sounds like those people were rotten from the start.”

“But what about-”

He brought a finger to her lips, silencing her.

“My love,” he murmured, exasperation in his sigh. “I’ve held my tongue far longer than I’ve cared to tonight. Let me speak.”

She nodded, wilting, and he withdrew his hand.

“You did not ruin the holidays for your family either,” he continued, cupping her face again. “Your father had no business reacting that way, no matter what. As much as I delight in a little violence, there is nothing that anyone could have said that would deserve such a response.”

She sniffled again, wiping at her nose as she felt snot dribble out. She looked disgusting, she was sure, and yet Astarion had insisted she was beautiful. How strange he could be.

“If anything was ruined, it was because of him,” he said, kissing her cheek again. “He should learn to control himself, and he was very lucky that I have so much self control.”

At that Aspen couldn’t help giggling, memories of all the times Astarion could not help himself brimming in her mind. But she held her tongue, not wanting to cut him off, not when he was being sweet as spun sugar.

“And you will not ruin us,” he said at last, firm, unwavering. “I want you, I want every part of you. Even your thorns.”

“Thorns?” She furrowed her brow. “Am I a flower to you?”

He grinned, twirling her hair around his finger. “The most beautiful and rarest of all flowers. But I don’t mind the thorns.” His smile grew, fangs catching the light as they came into view. “I’d let you prick me if it meant getting to stay with you.”

“I would never prick you,” she cried, horrified at the idea of hurting him. “I would never ever hurt you. At least not intentionally.”

His smile softened, and he brought his lips to her chest, above where her heart thrummed, finally beating a steady rhythm once more. “See? You have a sweet heart, you are no monster.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he interrupted. “I have met monsters, my love, and you are not one.”

He sighed, releasing the tendril of hair he’d been toying with. “And I plan to stay at your side for a long, long time. So long as you’ll have me.”

Her heart, a poor fractured thing, ached from his words. She felt like she were splintered glass, and she would shatter at any moment now. The only thing holding her together was Astarion’s hands, keeping her in the moment.

“I want you to stay with me,” she said, her voice soft as breath. “I want you to always stay with me.”

“Then I shall.”

Astarion’s arms slid around her waist, drawing her close. Aspen could think of nothing else to say, so instead she curled against his chest, feeling like she might fall apart at any moment now.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, murmuring softly into her hair. “You’re safe. I will keep you safe, my love.”

Although her trembling had stopped, it still took her a long while to truly settle. Her mind could not seem to rest, and it took Astarion singing her favourite songs off-key and reading from one of the books she’d packed for their trip for her mind to finally ease.

He was patient with her as she clung to him, murmuring soft praises, whispering that she was good, that he loved her. He sang and read to her, he stroked her hair, rubbed gentle circles into her back.

A stray sob would slip from between her lips every few moments, and she would absently wipe her nose on the back of her sleeve before nestling closer again. Astarion would press another kiss to her brow, her temple, his arms tightening around her, with every sob that escaped.

And slowly, so painfully slowly it might have taken her a century, she finally began to feel… She wasn’t sure entirely, but it was safer, comforted.

Not entirely better, but it was a start.

“I feel tired,” she murmured against his chest, her tears finally dried up, the last of her sobs lost to the night.

The shadows had grown so long, deepening until there was no light keeping them at bay but for the candles they had lit in their room.

“Why don’t we get you into a bath,” he suggested, tipping her head back until their eyes met. “You always like that.”

“I do…” She trailed off, even the miniscule effort needed to summon words to her lips exhausting her. “But it’s so late, and I feel so tired.”

“Leave it to me,” he murmured, smoothing back her hair.

Things were a blur after that, fatigue rushing through her all at once. Astarion carrying her to the bath, gently settling her into the steaming water like she were a delicate, precious thing. His fingers running through her hair, massaging soap and scented oils into her skin. His lips over her skin, scattering kisses in the wake of his hands as he rinsed the suds from her body.

When he was done he stepped free from the water first so he could help her out, holding her hands as she climbed over the high lip of the tub. He wrapped her in a soft towel, half-carrying her back into their room to help her dress and comb her hair.

Astarion’s lithe fingers twisted her hair into twin braids that fell down her back, much longer than she usually kept it. She made a comment to him that she would need to get it cut when they returned, and he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, promising he would make an appointment for her with their favourite hairdresser.

“And then perhaps we can spend the rest of the day out,” he suggested as he helped her into bed, going so far to fluff the pillows, spoiling her like she were a princess in a fairytale.

“We can pick out some new fabrics, perhaps commission some new clothes,” he continued, brow quirked as he grinned. “You can never have too many new gowns, especially now that we’ve started getting invited to parties. And-” He let the final word hang in the air, quivering like a music note held at the climax of a song.

“And?”

“And I love seeing you in pretty things.”

She held out her arms, wanting him to hold her even now. He’d had his hands on her for hours now, her fingers wrinkled from how long they’d spent in the bath. But it was not enough, and she wanted to be held still.

Astarion obliged, lying beside her and drawing her into his arms. She tucked her head beneath his chin, breathing in the smell of bergamot and rosemary, and the faint smell of her own favourite perfumes and soaps, lavender and rose and the touch of citrus.

“Could we go to the bookstore, too?” She asked, yawning as he trailed his fingers down the back of her neck.

“We can go wherever you would like,” he promised. “But first you must sleep, my love. We’ll make the trek back home tomorrow when you wake.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice, and she quickly fell into a dreamless sleep, safe in his arms.

The morning came far too soon, but Astarion let her sleep late, until the sunlight was a golden glow that seeped through the curtains of their room and breakfast had long since passed.

They didn’t take the time to bid anyone a proper farewell, instead heading for the winding road that would lead them home.

Aspen didn’t anticipate spending her favourite holiday travelling on the road, but she found she did not mind. Even when silence blanketed the both of them, she was comforted in his presence. Astarion could be melodramatic, petulant, and overly confident. But he also showed her gentleness, kindness, an affection that warmed her like the gentle flicker of candle flames.

He took care of her as surely as she took care of him, and as eagerly as she had accepted him for all his virtues and flaws, so he had with her. Perhaps more so, because she’d kept them quiet for as long as she could, and she was certain anyone else would have left her in the cold for such deception.

The winds picked up as they travelled, reaching frozen fingers into her hair, tearing at her cloak and skirts. She tugged her hood over her head, although it did little as the wind snatched her hood back, tearing it from her head.

Astarion snickered, sliding a hand to her cheek. “I have to admit I am glad that your face is not hidden by your hood.”

“Astarion, I’m cold,” she whined, not caring how her voice pitched high, joining the keening of the freezing winds.

A roll of his eyes, followed by a delicate kiss to her cheek. “Here, I have an idea of what can help.”

He draped the side of his cloak over her, his arm slipping around her waist.

“Won’t this make walking hard?” She asked, turning to him. He was close now, his breath ghosting against her cheek.

“I don’t mind,” he said, his voice a warm tenor that caressed her skin like a kiss. “I’ll take any excuse to be closer to you, darling.”

She sighed, but it wasn’t sad, or even bittersweet. It felt the precursor to a laugh, that promised delight would follow in its wake. “You’re so sweet, did you know that?”

“I did,” he said, doing a poor job of trying not to preen. “But it sounds best when it comes from your lips.”

Now she did laugh, and there really was a little happiness in it, soft as the laughter was, freshly fallen snow that filled the world with glitter. “I’ll have to say it more, then.”

“I’ll hold you to that, my love.”

Walking as they did, Astarion’s cloak wrapped around her, slowed them down considerably, but they still made good time, and as the sun sank beneath the horizon, setting the slate-grey of the sky ablaze in fiery red and burning oranges, they arrived back in Baldur’s Gate.

The feeling she felt as they hurried through the streets, fatigue heavy in their bones, was something entirely different from when they’d arrived in her childhood home.

There she had felt like a piece that no longer fit, accepted but not entirely right. She had ignored it, because that had been where she’d grown up. That had been her home, it was where her family lived still.

But stumbling through the streets, thinking of the warmth of her own home, the heat of a bath, the crackle of a fire stoked high, and all the snacks in the cupboards of their kitchen, she felt something click into place.

The bustle of this city, that bakery she loved to visit, the darkened storefront of their favourite tailor, the merry lights and open doors of the bookstore that sold warm drinks in the winter months. All the parts of the city she hadn’t yet seen, so occupied were they both with travelling, adventuring to different lands.

This felt right. Being here felt right. She didn’t feel like a misplaced puzzle piece, a lost toy that did not match with the rest of the set. She didn’t feel like a puzzle piece at all, something that had to match everything that surrounded it.

She felt whole, she felt like she belonged, felt like she was home.

The wind had not let up since earlier that day, heavy storm-clouds chasing in their wake. As they walked up the steps to their home, windows dark and curtains drawn, waiting for them to bring life back into the empty building, she felt something cold touch her cheek.

She looked up, beamed at the flurry of white swirling through the air, caught up in the ice of the wind.

“Astarion, look,” she murmured, pointing skyward. “It’s snowing.”

He paused, barely a foot from their door, to gaze up at the sky, a soft smile beginning to stretch across his face. “So it is.”

He gave her hand a tug, attention already sliding from the snow and back to the promise of warmth and comfort only a foot away. But Aspen found herself frozen in place, staring up at the snowflakes cascading to the ground. Like the sky itself had opened up in welcome of her returning, of her finding somewhere she was safe.

As Astarion tugged her harder she obliged, following him into the house, the door closing with a soft click behind them. It blocked the snow from sight, but still she could see it in her mind’s eye, swirling in an ivory ballet overhead, covering the world in a pallid pearlescence, wiping away the stain that had grown from the day behind them.

She shivered, snapping back to the present as Astarion’s cool fingers glided over her cheeks, his voice teasing as he commented on how flushed she looked.

They helped each other with their cloaks, tossed their packs to the side to be emptied once they were properly warmed. All the while Aspen’s eyes flitted over their home, the familiar shapes of the furniture, the familiar smell of the cleaners and soaps and candles they preferred, the familiar twists and turns of the halls and stairways.

Astarion’s arms slipped around her waist, his chin perching on her shoulder. “What are you thinking of, darling? You’ve hardly said more than a few words.”

She leaned into his embrace, covering her hands with his. “I’m just thinking that something felt strange when we’d gone to visit my family. And that something feels right now that we’re back.”

He peeled away from her, giving her an amused smile. “Of course something feels right, my love. We’re home.”

Home.

She’d known she was coming home as she’d stepped into the city once more, the word seemed to hold a different weight now.

Home, where she had chosen to lay down her heart, where she had chosen to share space with the person most precious to her. Where she was safe.

She smiled, turning around to draw him into an embrace, pressing her face into his shoulder, breathing in the smell of pine and cold winds, and the smell of his perfumes that he so loved.

“You’re right,” she said, her words partially muffled as she nestled closer. “It feels better because I’m home.”

Astarion snorted, but she could imagine the tender smile curling over his lips like a crescent moon shining silver in the sky. He ran a hand over her hair, fingers toying with the soft baby curls at the nape of her neck. “You’re safe here. You’re safe with me, my love. I swear it.”

“I know.” Tears pricked at her eyes as she held him tighter.

“I will never hurt you, I will never raise a hand to you, or even threaten to do so.”

She clung to him, as surely as his perfumes clung to his skin, even a hint of their smell giving her comfort. “I know, Astarion. I’m not afraid of you.”

“I only want you to know,” he murmured, lowering his head until it rested against hers. “I want you to know that you’re safe. I’ll make sure you’re always safe.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, a futile attempt to stop the flow of the tears that slipped from the corners of her eyes. “Astarion, you’re making me cry.”

He clicked his tongue, stroking the back of her neck. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, my dear.”

“Too late.”

A sigh, a kiss to the top of her head. “Then allow me to make it up to you, darling.”

She sank further into his embrace, listening to the slowed beat of his heart. Her love, her shining star.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

A moment of silence, the slow rhythm, of his heart seeming to stammer for a moment, beat a little faster. “And I love you.”

Aspen would have been content to stay there for the rest of the night, wrapped in his arms. But Astarion clearly had other plans, and after a few moments he pulled away, tapping her cheek playfully when she pouted.

“Don’t look at me like that, darling. I want to clean up and change into something warmer.” He sighed, taking her hands and running his thumbs over the backs of them. “And I want you to change into something warmer too, before you turn entirely to ice.”

“If I turned to ice would you find a way to rescue me?” She gave him a sly smile, a glimmer of mischief in her heart.

“Without a doubt,” he said, eyes bright with devilry. “Although I might have to tell you that I told you so, since if you turned to ice it would be because you ignored my request to warm up.”

“Well then I’ll make sure to heed your advice,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to upset you.”

He patted her hand. “An excellent choice, my love.”

She squeezed his hand, unwilling yet to let go. “Would you help me? I still feel so tired, and I would like to stay close, if you’ll allow me.”

Sorrow flashed in his eyes, the mischief in his smile softening. “Of course, my love. You need only ask.”

“And then we can mull that wine we bought before we left.”

He chuckled, tugging her from the entry, deeper into the heart of their home. “We can. But you’ll have to keep your wits about you, my darling, because I still have that surprise I had prepared for you before that little scuffle.”

She frowned, only now remembering that he’d vanished in search of something he would not tell her about just before the fight had begun. “What is it?”

He shot her a roguish grin. “You’ll just have to wait and see, darling.”

He was teasing her, and while normally she would at least pretend to get upset, in this moment all she could do was smile and laugh. There was no tension in the air, no fear of shattering eggshells beneath her feet.

Astarion accepted her, all of her, and he would not rage against her for saying the wrong thing, for being too loud. He loved her as she was, thorns and all.

They spent the evening together, and she fell asleep tangled in his arms, warm and safe, not feeling quite as hollow as she had the night before.

Aspen had hoped she would bounce back after their return to Baldur’s Gate, but of course things were not perfect, and little more than a week later, a letter arrived addressed to her, scrawled in her mother’s neat hand.

‘You should apologize. I believe you both should apologize, you both-’

She did not get a chance to finish reading before Astarion plucked it from her hand, tossed it into the fire.

A voice in the back of her head told she should probably be annoyed, angry even, that he took the first piece of correspondence she’d received from her family since and fed it to the flames. But there was no rage left inside of her, and even if there was, it would not spark, would not catch on the kindling forever in her heart, waiting to turn to a blaze.

She was thankful to him, for not forcing her to read such a letter. That blamed her as equally as the man who had threatened her. Who teetered on the edge of inflicting violence on her for the sin of disobedience.

“That’s utter rubbish,” he muttered, drawing her into his arms. And for that she was so painfully grateful that she burst into tears all over again, another bout in endless weeks of tears.

“It’s alright, darling.” He had said the words so many times over the past few days, comforting her in the morning when she awoke, trembling from dreams of screaming, from the fractures in her heart, the knowledge that there was no real going back, no crossing the distance between her and that man.

“You are not to blame,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Your heart is good, darling, and it is not your job to please other people so they do not threaten you. Not even your own family.”

Aspen nodded silently, burying her face against his neck.

They could not hurt her here, they could not even slice her with their callous words. Here in her home, with her lover, she was safe.

“You’re sure?” She asked, sniffling. “You’re sure that I will not ruin us?”

He chuckled, warm and soft, nearly a sigh. “Do roses ruin a garden? Does a hawthorn tree ruin a forest?”

She peeked up from her hiding place, wrinkling her nose. “Pardon?”

“Roses have thorns, do they not?”

She nodded slowly. “They do.”

“But they’re everywhere, are they not? In gardens, in songs and poems, in bouquets given to lovers.” He tipped his head to the side, searching her face as he spoke.

Again she nodded, still unsure of what he was talking about. “I know that. They’re some of the most popular flowers.”

“Even though they have thorns?”

“I… Guess?” He was teasing her now, she was sure of it.

“And did you know,” he continued, toying with her hair. “That hawthorns, with their red fruits used in wines and jellies, and the pretty flowers that bloom on their branches, have thorns too?”

She shook her head, completely lost now. “I didn’t.”

He let go of her hair, settling his hands on her waist. “Well they do. And still they are not seen as something ruinous, but something people adore.”

When she didn’t respond, Astarion sighed, making a show of rolling his eyes. “My darling, you will not ruin us. I love you, I adore you. And I would choose you over all of the thornless, soft-hearted fools in the world.”

“I love you too,” she said, feeling small. “I love you, and I want you to stay with me.”

“And so I shall, darling,” he murmured, lowering his head, nuzzling his nose against hers. “I love you, thorns and all. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears burned at her eyes, a stray few slipping down her cheeks, and she quickly wiped them away, smiling softly.

“You ought to become a poet,” she said, peeking up at him. “Especially after saying such pretty things.”

He snorted, pulling away to wave his hand languidly through the air. “What can I say? You bring out the romantic in me.”

“Thank you, my love,” she spoke earnestly, wanting him to know she was not joking around, that she meant it with her whole heart. “Thank you, for how kind you are to me.”

Astarion froze, the softest touch of pink blooming in his cheeks. What little blood stayed in his veins was rushing to his face, warming him, if only slightly.

“Yes, well…” He trailed off, stammering. “You make it so terribly easy. I hate the idea of your sweet heart being in pain.”

She smirked, teasing him now. “You know you’re pretty sweet, yourself.”

“Alright.” With a roll of his eyes he turned away. “Were we not planning to go out before we got that letter? We should hurry if we want to stop at the bookstore before heading to the performance.”

“Oh yes,” Aspen beamed, hurrying to his side, standing on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek before going in search of her cloak. “Right as always, my love. We must make haste.”

Laughter chased after her as she found where she’d last discarded her cloak, a deep deep the colour of a sunset, a perfect contrast to the powder pink of her gown and the coral-coloured ribbons that laced up the front of her bodice. She tossed it over her shoulders, clicking the clasps into place before heading to the entry, where Astarion waited for her, grinning brighter when he saw her.

“Beautiful as always,” he cooed, straightening the clasps of her cloak, disentangling the corners of her ribbons so the bows laid flat.

She beamed, pushing the letter from her mind, pushing the whole terrible event from her mind. What lurked in her skin was no monster, not a beast that destroyed everything that was dear. It was only her thorns, a part of her as surely as the blood in her veins.

Astarion had promised to help her soften them, so they did not draw blood when someone got too close. But there would likely always be a few that were a little sharp, despite her best efforts.

But he would love her anyways, acknowledging that they were a part of her, and he loved all of her, even the sharpest parts.

That knowledge settled in her heart, warmth kindling in her chest. Not the violent fire of rage, but the gentle warmth of love, of contentment, the kind of warmth that kept her safe.

He offered her his arm, and she took it, heading out into the snow-flecked world beyond their door. Into the city that she was not a missing puzzle piece in, with someone who loved her as she was, who was her home. And like the sun to a blooming flower, to a tree with flowers and fruits blossoming along its thorny branches, their love kept her warm the entire day.

#astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x female tav #honey the sweeter the sun #hurt/comfort

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batsandgore · 22 days

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Can you do a Rukiyui after wedding life. Like DF ending. They are my comfort couple.

Thank you btw. And welcome to community.

Of course!! And thank you so much! Hope you enjoy! <3

When the bell chimes midnight...

The night air wasn't something that Yui and Ruki experienced often anymore, but it was rather a rare indulgence that they could share with one another. No longer did Ruki thrive in the cloak of night, so what was the need to stay awake during that time now? The quaint little village they had settled within was one that flourished in the daytime; shops, and streets, and people all came together to get on with their daily lives under the veil of the sun's nourishing rays.

But what of now, when everyone slept? When the village stilled and remained quiet for a time. Yui sat on the porch of the small house her and Ruki shared, gazing off into the thick darkness of the sky, pricked with little balls of light across its canvas. The atmosphere was serene. The echo of late night birds humming their tunes filled her ears... and footsteps. Ruki perched himself beside her, wrapping his warm arm around her torso. The feeling of warm skin pressed against her own still felt so nostalgic to Yui, even after all this time since Ruki had given up his vampirism, all for her...

"What are you doing out here so late?"

Yui hummed before nuzzling into the crook her partners neck. He felt so... human. He was human now, and that's two forms she had loved him in. To find love as pure and as dedicated as that is truly a gift.

"It's nearly midnight..."

Yui trailed off in response. She averted her gaze to the small bell tower just atop the hill, which watched over the little village like its guardian. It showcased a clock. Two minutes to midnight.

"You wish to hear the bell chime? Do you miss the night with me that badly, Yui?"

"It brings back nostalgia for me, but... it doesn't matter where or when we are together..."

One minute until midnight. A short yet comfortable silence between the two, soon interrupted.

"Because I love you, Ruki."

The bell chimes midnight. The sound reverberated through the cobbled streets. A small sense of satisfaction washed over Yui as she smiled up at her partner.

"I love you, Yui..."

#dbl #diabolik lovers #dialovers #dl #ruki mukami #yui komori #diabolik lovers fanfiction #fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #short fiction

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sugar-omi · 5 months

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requesting for hc for the boys as characters in Stardew? I srsly need someone to make an Our Life mod for SV. It would motivate me to play again.

no bc if I figure it out... I got you anon 💪💪 I've been thinking abt a olba stardew mod for agessss

Fluff, headcanons, stardew valley x olba crossover

BAXTER

he pulls a Kent or like that one mod that adds June (I think that's his name. he's from the ridgeside village mod)

and you don't met him until summer, where he vacations in the valley

mmm... moves to the valley at some point. or maybe he stays after summer

lives in a quaint house. small but comfortable

super polite as always, even brings you a house warming gift and invites you for drinks

frequently sends letters. sometimes with small gifts or recipes or invites to dinner or for a dance

mmm cut scenes... well I'm not gonna talk abt all 2, 4, 6, 8, etc heart events...

omfg he's like Harvey who plans romantic dates after you get married

8 event, he wines and dines you n then kisses you

DEREK

has a 1 or 2 heart event where you run into him on his run, and he helps you carry your seed and fertilizer back to the farm

like Sam, he has a heart event with his family. prbly 6 hearts

you have a nice dinner w his family, laughs n giggles but the real meat of the event is afterwards when he's walking you home

mmm maybe incorporating his dlc and you're walking through your farm n he's talking about how nice it is you found smth you wanna do

tells you he hopes he can find happiness n purpose like you found in the valley

then in his 8 or 12/14 heart, tells you he found that with you <333

COVE

Elliot 2.0

lives on the beach and you can find him at the beach every day from spring til summer

has a small farm, nothing big literally just 3 squares he grows something on each season

is awkward but welcomes you and is pretty shy for awhile, kinda like Sophia from SVE but not the same ofc

omfg basically lives in/by the boat watching that mermaid show. I forget what the name of it is, but the night market in stardew

I can already imagine the special dialogue during the moonlight jellies scene, very excited to see those

has a heart event too ofc, 8 or 12 hearts, and you're outside stargazing, maybe even taking a little dip in the ocean like in step 4 and tells you how he loves you, all that stuff

omg 14 hearts where you go on a boat n he tells you how happy he is w your little family... pls

yeah im already planning dialogue lines for the boys each season and marriage/dating lines.... HELL IM EVEN THINKING ABT FRIEND GROUPS

lemme figure out how to code bc I am buzzing w ideas rn

#olba #cove holden #baxter ward #derek suarez

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spadecentral · 1 year

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👑 Prince Promise | Leona Kingscholar x Reader

>> requested: no >> a/n: happy birthday Skai!!!!! love ya <3 also just a disclaimer im not that happy with the first couple of paragraphs so just pretend like its normal pls

>> masterlist: here!! >> summary: you and leona run away together to start a new life. unfortunately, a prince cannot always run >> reader prns: not specified >> warning(s): second person; fire; no dialogue;

youtube

You, a royal gardener, had begun to catch Leona's eye. So when Leona had some free time, he had always fund himself staring over at you, whether it be from inside at a window or outside underneath a tree. And what was good about being an unwanted prince was that he had a lot of free time.

The way he watched you with loving eyes confused the royal workers. They had never seen the prince so smitten before.

The first time he talked to you, he was very nonchalant. At least, he was on the outside. If you were able to read his mind, or get past the fact that a literal prince was talking to you, you would have noticed how nervous he was. How nervous he was of fucking up. How scared he was of doing something wrong.

And you fell so hard for him. Like, head-over-heels hard. Like, I-will-rip-out-my-heart-and-serve-it-on-a-nice-fancy-china-plate-for-you-to-stake-a-knife-into hard. You fell for him so hard that it would be less painful for you to repeatedly hit your head on a brick wall several times.

He had already fallen for you, however. He was just waiting for you to catch up to him.

When he suggested that the both of you run away together, you couldn't believe your ears. You? Run away with him? The prince of Sunset Savannah?

And what shocked you even more was the immediate yes that tumbled from your lips.

The palace gardeners weren't surprised to find your bedsheets stripped from your mattress and your clothes nowhere to be seen the next morning. They had taken bets actually, on when you two would run away.

They knew that no one was going to accept some gardener as the partner to their prince, no matter how in love you were.

You two had found a quaint little house on the outskirts of some small town, and Leona had bought it right away.

But to be honest, your first night in your own house with Leona was nerve-wracking. You still weren't accustomed to being in the same room with him all the time. And sharing a bed with him?! That was a completely new experience.

Though Leona could sense your uncomfortableness and had said several times that he could sleep on the couch if you wanted him to, you told him that it wouldn't be necessary. You wanted nothing more than to be near him. To be close to him. To be within two feet of him, holding his hand or brushing your fingers together.

And in that bed during the first night of your new beginning together, he had tenderly kissed you on the lips.

The two of you had lived comfortably in that house for a little under a month at this point. It had worked surprisingly well, 'it' being your relationship. There was the perfect balance of responsibilities divided between the two of you. You had even started your own little farm in your backyard, growing lettuce, squash, and tomatoes.

Leona had left to grab some things from the village. Some cheese, sausage links, and a nice bottle of wine. You both we're going to celebrate one month together in the comfort of each other's presence.

Thankful he was finally able to leave the town square, he headed back home. Even though he was never really fond of the people in the village, he made due. For you.

He was about a third of a mile away from home when he knew something was wrong. The smell of smoke was too strong for you to have only set a fire in your fireplace.

Not caring about the food, he immediately dropped the bags and ran. Ran towards you.

His stomach felt like it had dropped through his feet when he got to your home. Red and orange flames danced in the air as the building crumbled on top of itself.

He knew that you weren't going to make it out alive. But he still ran. Ran towards you. Ran towards home.

His tunnel vision was cleared when he was held back by palace guards.

And thats when he remembered something he had heard all the time when he was growing up. Something that his parents would always say to his retched brother.

"Son, it is like treason to not marry a person of a royal status. You must not break the hierarchy. No matter how much you love someone."

An eye-catcher was never a good idea. Especially when you catch the eye of Leona Kingscholar. Not because of him. But because of the people who wish to keep him within arms reach.

#leona kingscholar #leona #leona angst #leona kingscholar angst #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #Youtube

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howaboutcastiel · 2 years

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HowAboutCastiel's Fic Masterlist

I guess I’ve written enough fics that I kinda need to make one of these now 🤷‍♀️

Request Rules

Currently, I have fics published from the Moon Knight, Daredevil, Mandalorian, and Last of Us universes. Feel free to request beyond these fandoms, though <3

Star Wars

Din Djarin x Reader:

Out of This World (18+): You only get to see The Mandalorian when he comes to visit your cantina in Mos Espa. He seems to be finding more reasons to stop by.

The Apostate (18+): Din broke the creed. He removed his helmet and, as a result, opened himself up to possibilities he couldn’t have ever conceived of before. (Plus an expansion)

And Also With You (18+): As an ex-Jedi, you had found a good planet to hide on, and you were satisfied with the quiet. That was, until a mandalorian with a reputation wandered into your quaint little village.

Din Djarin x Cobb Vanth:

Find a New Way (18+): For the safety of his son, Din attempts to escape the cult he was raised in, with help from the sheriff of the next town over.

Moon Knight

Steven Grant x Reader:

All I Desire (18+): Reader has not been in a relationship in a while and is scared to have sex with Steven for the first time.

On My Command (18+): You want to wind down after a bad day at work, but Steven is over-eager as always.

Let Me Take It: (CW) You had a bad day that leads to a spiral. Steven tries to help you through it.

Set The Record Straight (18+): In the heat of an argument you imply that Steven is a pushover.

Helping You Through II

Hold Me Together: Hey! Could I make a request for one of the moon bois (your choice!) helping you out after you get home from a particularly rough therapy session?

The Tour Guide (18+): The reader has never been in a serious relationship, and now things are moving forward in her relationship with Steven.

From the Ground Up… Again (18+): After you were injured on a mission, Steven helps you get back on your feet with some tender love and care.

Marc Spector x Reader:

The Silver-Plated Moon: An overstimulating day away from your boys leads to a meltdown, causing you to accidentally break one of the most precious gifts you’ve ever received.

How Do I Ask? (18+): You loved the way that your boyfriend Marc made love to you. That being said, sometimes you longed for something… rougher.

Keep Me Warm: it’s cold outside. Like, really really cold. Marc doesn’t seem to mind, and he likes to tease you about your intolerance to the ice and wind.

A Reminder (18+): Marc x Reader x Layla. Thats it. That’s the plot.

Helping You Through I

From the Ground Up (18+): Getting lost on a mission is a terrifying experience. Being found in the nick of time by the man you love most is a captivating one. (Marc x Male!Reader)

Uncharted Territory: "I was wondering if you could do something with the reader and Marc are going to make love for the first time and she’s nervous bc she has SH scars and her and Marc never talked about that part of her life?"

Jake Lockley x Reader:

Make Your Acquaintance (Chaptered): You’re in a committed relationship with Marc and Steven, but have only heard of Jake through their descriptions. Intimidated by his reputation, you don’t know what to do when a mission gone awry brings Jake right to the front.

The Teddy Bear: The reader has a stuffed animal that they can’t sleep without. Embarrassed, they hide it away whenever their boyfriend, Jake, comes over.

Just a Bit Closer (18+): I was wondering if you could maybe do something with Papi Jake? Soft (only for his princess) Where the reader is craving some on-one time with him.

The Regular Surprise: (Extreme CW) On the night of a big town festival, she reaches her breaking point. A familiar face at an unfamiliar time may just be her last hope.

The Birthday Fic: It’s your birthday. You hope someone will remember.

Moon boys x Reader(2 or more):

Lunar Therapy Masterlist

Not My Intention: "maybe they’re at an office party and some guy comes to her when she’s alone and the boys get jealous since it’s obvious he’s trying to flirt with their girl."

The Birthday Fic: It’s your birthday. You don’t think anyone will remember.

That One Angsty Fic (TW): Sometimes you're your own worst enemy. The moon boys understand that, even when you don't at first.

I Can’t Help Myself (18+): Jake accidentally touches a cursed artifact while on a mission.

A Threatening Paradise: “Could you do a one shot where there’s an unwanted pregnancy scare eventually leading to a marriage proposal?”

Where’s Taweret When You Need Her?: You start your period and you don’t know how the boys are going to react to it.

Looking Good, Four Eyes: could you pls do a fic with the three moon boys where they’d see the reader with her glasses for the first time?

Two Steps Forward (18+): A fun night with Jake ends up backfiring as Marc is triggered to front mid-coitus.

A Change of Heart: The reader is kidnapped by Harrow as leverage for Moon Knight to hand over the scarab.

Carry me home: Kicked out of your parents house at 16, you find yourself under the care of a cryptic taxi driver. (Jake Lockley accidentally adopts a teenager)

A Reminder: Layla and Marc punish you.

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Non-Insert

Fire Within My Soul (Chaptered): Marc and Steven have a lot to contend with after they return from Cairo. The one thing on their minds, though, is Layla El-Faouly.

More Than Alright (18+): it’s Steven and Layla’s first time together. He’s nervous.

Marvel

Matt Murdock

Having sex with Matt in a stairwell (headcanon)

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

The Robe and Crown [18+]: Joel and Tommy are raiders. Not by choice, not for the thrill. They’re doing what they must to survive. So why, then, is Joel letting you tag along when you’re just another mouth to feed?

That Good Old Way: Picking up right where The Robe and Crown left off, Joel has decided to stay with you.

#steven grant #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant x reader #oscar isaac #moon knight x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #masterlist #Din Djarin #The Mandalorian #Joel Miller #layla el faouly #The Last of Us #Star Wars

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dawn-moths · 2 years

Text

“Hungry For Something New”

Werewolf!Dabi x Female Reader

*vampire!tomura*

part 1 * part 2 * part 3 (COMING OCTOBER 2024!)

word count: 13,000+

(During a trip through the woods to your grandmother’s house, your journey takes a rather unusual and horrifying turn. Because you’ve heard the rumors about the monsters that roam between the trees, the things that exist between man and beast, and it just so happens one of them has set their sights on you. But, even at the end of it all, you still can’t quite determine whether Dabi is truly the enemy that the village paints him as— the villain he seems so intent on trying to prove to you he is— or just a lonely outcast who needs some company from time to time. Who knows though… perhaps, you’ll find yourself running into him again on another outing in the future.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! red riding hood au, smut, loss of virginity, mention of a dead sibling, predator/prey dynamics, references to church/religion, dubcon, angsty and manipulative (but lowkey soft) dabi, title taken from “i want you” by george barnett, happy halloween everyone!

*ao3 mirror*

***

The brisk chill of mid-fall snuck in through the crack of your bedroom window, and from beyond the latticed glass, the next gentle gust that swept by stirred up little whirlwinds of orange and brown leaves in a short, wispy waltz.

As you rose from your bed, shrugging off the layers of quilted blankets, a shiver skittered through your bones. You rubbed your eyes, felt a yawn rising in your chest, and once it had passed you caught the faint sounds of two familiar voices muttering beyond your door.

“What’s going on out here?” you’d asked with a cheery kind of curiosity as you’d entered into the quaint living area, the fireplace already lit and a neatly wrapped box adorned with a silky crimson bow placed perfectly on the kitchen table.

Your parents had exchanged knowing looks, both of them wearing mischievous smirks at sharing the secret, and urged you to go and find out for yourself.

You sat in one of the rickety old chairs, the hand-sewn cushions placed upon them having flattened over time, and adjusted your thin nightgown over your lap before scooting in closer to the table and sliding the box towards yourself.

At first, you just wanted to stare at it, mesmerized by how much care had been put into the wrapping alone, but then, once you felt the pressure of your parents’ eyes watching over you, waiting to experience your reaction, you gave the bow a gentle tug, undoing it before gingerly pulling apart the pretty paper of the package.

You gasped when you first caught a glimpse of the vibrant red color through the layers of white tissue paper, looking over your shoulder at your parents as if to ask, “Is this what I think it is?” and your mother gave you an encouraging nod to continue.

Once you revealed the contents of the box a little more, lifting it from its pristinely folded place, you still almost couldn’t believe it.

“This is—” you’d begun to say, eyes sparkling with admiration as you studied the craftsmanship— everything from the evenly sewn stitches to the silk lined interior and the shiny gold clasp to fasten the crimson cloak shut.

“I know how much you’ve been wanting a new one,” your mother cut in, drifting closer to your side and urging you to stand up and try it on. “Your old one was starting to look a little tattered, and I figured since you’ve been helping out so much by taking those deliveries to your grandmother every week…”

But then, as you ran your fingers through the fluffy fur trim of the hood— black with sporadic yet distinct speckles of grey and white— your smile dropped and you looked to your father.

“It’s the one from last year,” he answered before you could ask, expression solemn, already knowing you knew just as well the exact animal it had come from.

At first, the wolf had managed to sneak in during the night and kill off what little livestock your family had— all five of the hens, the turkey, and both of the goats— only, even after it had claimed the final one of its prey, it hadn’t stopped there.

You’d had a baby brother, a little over a year ago.

He’d almost been five.

Your mother still had a trio of nasty, jagged scars slashed through her arm at the failed attempt made to defend her son.

You’d been away at your grandmother’s that day, running another delivery, only to return home to be met with the blood and the horror and the terrible loss.

Once word of the tragedy had reached the nearby town, the church had called it a work of a demon, the head priest coming by to sage and salt your little cabin on the edge of the forest’s clearing.

But your father had never believed in the hellish lore spread by the bishops and believers in town. He knew the creature was living, breathing, mortal.

Though, he’d vowed as he’d taken up his gun and started out the front door back then, not for much longer.

He’d caught the culprit a couple weeks later, tracked the beast further into the woods and shot it dead as it devoured a deer, carnage dripping from its maw, bits of raw flesh dangling from its fangs, lips curled back in a vicious snarl when its amber eyes landed on the hunter for but a moment before the trigger was pulled and the bang sent all the crows fleeing from the trees.

That gunshot hadn’t brought your brother back, and the pelt of the animal would never heal your mother, but having dragged the monster back and stolen its skin did ensure that it couldn’t hurt anyone else.

And you hated wolves. Hated them. Had hated them even before the incident.

But now, seeing the remains of the creature decorating your pretty red cloak was…

Well, it was unsettling, to say the least.

Before you could determine whether it was morally wrong to wear the coat of your brother’s killer, your father added, “With this, no other creature will dare harm you…” He approached you, took the cloak from its grip in your trembling hands and slung it over your shoulders, your mother buttoning the clasp, both of them standing back to take a look at you, their oldest and only remaining child. “It’s your shield now. Wear it with pride.”

You stroked the fur again, closing your eyes for a moment as your brother’s smiling face flashed through your head, an image that seemed to fade more and more by the day.

You’d never seen the wolf— never seen any wolf while venturing through the woods, thank god— but from the damage it had done and the way your father had described it in the moments before the creature became a corpse was enough to give you a clear picture of how terrifying and ferocious it had been.

You let out a shaky breath, trying to steady your mind before looking back to your parents with a sadder, softer expression. “Thank you…” you said, fighting to bite back tears. “Both of you, really…” You reached up to put an arm around each of them, pulling the three of you into a hug. Then, into their shoulders, you muttered, “I’ll take good care of it.”

But today there wasn’t much time for an emotional moment of bonding, for you had a rather important delivery to make. Your grandmother lived alone, insisting on staying in the cabin her own father had built back when he and his wife had first settled on this land. It was the house she’d grown up in, had gotten married in, wanted to die in when her day came to pass, and the journey there and back would take you half a day, getting you home right before dark so long as you stayed on track.

While your mother packed some last minute things into a wicker basket, you got changed, choosing your favorite white dress and hickory brown corset, the one that laced up in the front, your boots— worn from the consistent travel over rough terrain— a similar color to match.

Your old cloak had been a lighter shade of brown, constructed using the leftover scraps of fabric from an old winter coat your mother had made for your father, and had started fraying and tearing at the edges a few years ago, unlined and undecorated and plain.

As you fastened the billowing cloak of crimson back around your shoulders, the black fur popping against the brilliant burst of color, and gave yourself a look in the mirror, you couldn’t help but admire not just the garment’s beauty, but your own.

This shade of red gave you a rather sophisticated air, but also alluded to something dangerous.

You couldn’t help but smirk at your reflection, liking the confidence glinting in your eyes, looking more like a predator than prey for once. You felt like, even if you did encounter a wolf, it was a fight you could win.

“Absolutely gorgeous, darling,” your mother complimented as you emerged from your room, ready to depart as soon as she handed over the basket to you. She adjusted your cloak, fidgeted with the bow tied hastily on your corset, and then lovingly smoothed down your hair. You leaned into her touch, her warm palm pressed to your cheek.

“Be careful out there,” she reminded you, as if she ever gave you a chance to forget.

“Aren’t I always?” you responded with a playfully devious raise of one eyebrow.

But then, before you could give your final farewells, your father beckoned you back into the kitchen, seeming to have a gift of his own to bestow upon you.

“Just in case,” he said as he handed you a silver dagger, the blade freshly sharpened and shining under the white morning light that flooded in through the window above the stove, the rays cutting through the thin veil of fog that had started settling over the land at dawn.

You gripped the hilt, testing the weight of the weapon in your hand as you began, “But I thought you said—” the wolf’s fur would be enough to protect me.

“I know what I said,” your father cut in, closing his hands around the one of yours that held the dagger, a silent plea for you not to fight about it and just comply, even if only for his own sake. “But there are more than just wolves to worry about in those woods,” he warned, the way his stare shifted from stoic to stern making you swallow down any remaining objections you had. “If you ever find yourself in a situation that you can’t outrun…” His grip around your hand tightened a bit, and you were sure that, in that moment, he was being flayed by the guilt at not being able to save your brother, his son. “Promise me you’ll fight.”

You didn’t know what to say, could only stare up at him with big, terrified eyes before blinking away the hesitation and forcing a firm nod, replying with a low and hopefully convincing enough, “I promise.”

Your father kissed your head, ran his fingers through the black beast’s fur on the hem of your hood, and then reminded you not to stray from the main path.

You never did, never had, would never even dream of it…

Or, at least, that’s what you’d told your parents time and time again.

Truth was, you were often tempted to traverse a little further into the trees, wind through the maze of dense forest in hopes of finding some rare wild flowers or a ripe berry bush or any other amenity the land would be generous enough to lend you.

But you’d been scared stiff by the echoing shouts of hunters, the sharp bark of their dogs, the eerie howls and cawing of the crows that rippled through the air as the sun sank closer to the horizon. Sometimes, you jumped upon hearing a twig snap only for a rabbit or squirrel to scamper out from the brush.

And, even though your family had assured you there was nothing besides humans or animals to fear lurking in the woods, you’d heard others in town— both believers and skeptics alike— whisper rumors about shapeshifting monsters that lured in naive travelers only to eat them alive, leaving their carcasses split open with splintering ribs and missing hearts.

There was one old woman who claimed to have survived such a creature in her own youth. Most people considered her mad, gone crazy after her husband’s gruesome death, or, as some more sympathetic spectators of her stories believed, the result of escaping a wolf attack that left her traumatized and therefore believing the culprit to be more fiction than fact.

But you’d heard her recite the tale before— seen that look in her eyes, a wild, feral kind of fear unlike anything you’d ever experienced— and if she wasn’t convinced she was telling the truth, then she sure was one hell of a storyteller.

The church thought her riddled with dark magic and demons, the altar boys encouraged to shoo her away from the front steps of the cathedral with their brooms as they swept if she migrated too close and, a few times, you’d heard some of the older boys making cruel jokes about how the town ought to tie the old woman to a cross and do away with her the same way they did to those suspected of being witches or devil worshipers— the accused swallowed by vicious flames and charred down to black ash. They said perhaps she’d be put out of her babbling misery then, but you didn’t think the old woman was crazy or afflicted by something evil.

You knew she was just scared.

Scared like your mother had been in the months following your brother’s death, afraid the creature, though deceased, would somehow call upon its brethren to seek revenge against the hunter’s wife who’d escaped, though not entirely unscathed.

“That’s another good thing about this new cloak,” your mother interrupted your morbid daydream, smiling at you in that tender, loving way of hers, despite everything. “With this color, the hunters will be able to spot you more easily. I used to worry about you accidentally getting mistaken for a deer and shot with your old one…”

“Easier for hunters to spot,” your father agreed, but then added with his usual bout of cynicism, “and predators too.”

Your mother gave him an unamused glare, not wanting this day to be spoiled more than it already had, before turning her adoration back onto you, reminding you once more to stay safe and hurry back before dark, promising to have your favorite soup ready for dinner upon your return. That got a smile back on your face.

You shared one last hug with your mother before heading out the door, waving behind you as you trekked up the hill, occasionally glancing back until your house disappeared through the fog.

And then it was just you and the forest that lay ahead, nature’s ambiance quick to surround you on all sides, sometimes making you stop and wonder if you’d just heard your name being called from far off in the distance or if it were merely a mix of your imagination and the ravens’ croak.

But when you heard the distant, eerie echoes of what you could’ve sworn was a howl, you didn’t question if it was just in your head. You knew, that time, it was real. So you adjusted the basket slung over your arm and picked up the pace.

***

By midday, the fog had only grown thicker, and you didn’t dare stop for your usual afternoon snack break, too afraid you’d lose sight of the sun’s hazy, blurred position through the misty clouds and end up running late, causing you to get caught in the dark on your way home— something to be avoided at all costs.

But it wasn’t only the fog that had you on edge, barely able to see more than a few yards ahead of you with each step, but the fact that a distinct pang of paranoia had settled over you not long after losing sight of your house.

You felt like you were being followed, being watched, and for all the trips you’d made over the years running these deliveries, you’d never quite felt something as strong and unshakable as whatever this feeling was.

You couldn’t stop glancing over your shoulder, quickening your step when a low growl or— even worse— an almost human sound echoed through the curtain of pine. You kept finding yourself short of breath, heart skipping a beat then hammering behind your ribs when you took off in a short sprint, racing to the next turn of the path before repeating the cycle of paranoia, perception, perplexity, and panic.

At one point though, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, shaking your head at how utterly ridiculous you were acting. Because why, with all your experience traveling these woods without incident, would something choose to change that now?

Maybe it’s demons, a traitorous voice in your head hissed, or maybe it’s the monster who traumatized that old woman. Maybe it’s finally awoken from its long slumber and is hunting for a new victim.

To distract yourself from your less desirable thoughts, you started humming a familiar, calming tune, one your mother used to sing to lull you to sleep as a child. You finished the melody once through, going to repeat the phrase a second time, only halfway through stopped short when a low, smoky voice began harmonizing with your own.

You froze midstep, sucking in a short gasp as your eyes went wide, searching the scene before you as if you expected the owner of the voice to come into view like a ghost through the fog, silhouette shifting behind the veil before stepping into sharper focus.

However, when it finished the song for itself, it let out a low, sinister chuckle, a growl laced throughout the husky sound.

You whirled around, expecting to see the figure standing behind you, yet was only met with more emptiness. You went to reach for your knife, but your hand never even made it to the hilt.

The moment you spotted two sapphire orbs glowing through the mist, you turned and took off running.

***

With the path long abandoned and the forest growing even thicker with every panic-stricken stride you took, the wicker basket and its contents scattered long behind you in a trail of bread and cheese and berries and herbs, you didn’t even have time to comprehend just how lost you really were.

All you could focus on was not tripping over the uprooted trees and thorny underbrush as you dashed and leapt further into the fog.

There was a moment when you thought of that horrible black wolf— the one that you knew to be dead, the fur around your neck a solid and sure reminder of that— and the mental image of the devoured deer it had been feasting on when your father had finally found and shot it dead.

You were the deer— you realized as you leapt across a shallow stream, nearly stumbling and falling upon your landing, scrambling to stay upright and keep going— soon to be consumed by whatever was giving chase, your pursuer not far behind from the sound of fast, heavy footsteps catching up closer and closer by the minute.

But you were being played with, your terror utilized as amusement.

Because, if he really wanted to, he could’ve caught you before you’d even had the chance to take one more step down the path. He could’ve leapt out and pinned you to the dirt and the leaves and sunk his fangs into your throat before you even had the chance to scream.

But that would be no fun, Dabi had thought to himself as he gave chase, tormenting you even further as he howled and cackled behind you, wanting to remind you that, even if you couldn’t see him, he was still there, still closing in and soon to trap you, quick little rabbit that you were.

And it was so cute, how hard you were trying to escape, thinking you stood even an iota of a chance when up against him. Adorable, how you kept letting out little whimpers and whines whenever the toe of your boot caught under a rock or a vine and you nearly went tumbling forward, breath catching with the first signs of sobs when you began to realize you just couldn’t shake him.

When he finally did decide to catch you, he was going to have so much fun, absolutely savoring the way you would writhe in his grip, trying so hard and failing to get free as the reality of the situation dug its claws in deep and made you shake with terror.

“Oh little rabbiiiiiiiit!” he sang, forcing you to glance over your shoulder once more, this time causing you to take the crucial misstep that finally ended this chase, sending you tripping and tumbling down to the ground, rolling a few times and collecting some brittle leaves inside your cloak which was now smudged with dirt.

You tried to get up but winced when you felt a sharp pain in your ankle, having twisted it on your way down, leaving you to struggle and try to crawl away, pulling yourself towards the nearest tree to help yourself stand upright again, pathetically attempting to limp further away.

But then, from behind the next tree you were about to pass, out stepped your pursuer to bar your path, tall and thin and far too smug for anyone’s good, his cobalt gaze cutting through the fog before the rest of him could. Dabi stood before you, arms crossed as he leaned against the trunk of the pine, declaring through a barely amused drawl, “Caught’cha.”

You went to dive away from him, yelping when he caught your wrist in one of his fists and yanked you back, his fingers digging painfully into your hammering pulse and making you grit your teeth and whimper, holding you up by your arm and trying to get a better look at you.

“Hmm…” he hummed in contemplation. You could feel his breath on your face as you squeezed your eyes shut and turned your face away, too afraid to stare directly into that smoldering sapphire, knowing you’d only be met with cruelty and a sadistic sort of satisfaction that he’d caught you— caught his prey.

“Well, would you look at that…” he went on, taking your chin in his other hand, forcing your face to turn forward again. You were crying now, tears leaking through your tightly shut eyes as every breath you exhaled shuddered more than the last. He let out a puff of a laugh, grip on your jaw tightening until you had no choice but to look at him, pleading with your eyes for him to stop, that he was hurting you, begging for him to let you go. “You’re a lot prettier when you’re not running away from me, y’know.”

He squeezed your jaw hard enough until your mouth was forced open, flashing a sharp-toothed smirk when you let out a terrified and slightly embarrassed little squeak.

You’d never seen a man with teeth like his before, incisors sharp enough to tear through flesh and bone and tendon, sharp enough to rip another’s throat out as easily as tearing off a chunk from a loaf of fresh, warm bread.

More tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your dirt-smudged cheeks and meeting under your chin, dripping down into the fur of your cloak.

“Why ya cryin’?” he asked, cocking his head slightly to one side, faking innocence. His smirk returned though, hooking one of his thumbs into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue as he concluded with a dark and threatening, “I haven’t even done anything to you yet.” When you tried to pull your head free, his grip on your jaw only increased, using the pain to hold you in place.

If you ever find yourself in a situation you can’t outrun, your father had said, promise me you’ll fight.

You’d nodded your head, accepted the knife as you made the promise.

And you’d tried running. It hadn’t gotten you anywhere good.

Perhaps it was time to consider the alternative.

“What’re you doin’ out here all alone, little lamb?” he cooed, slipping his thumb back a little further, nearly making you gag, and pressed down firm on your glistening pink tongue, mesmerized as your spit began to collect and pool, licking his lips as his own mouth salivated. “It’s dangerous for a girl like you, y’know…”

Then, you bit down on his thumb hard. Hard enough to make him swear and pull his hand back from you, giving you just enough time to reach for your dagger and take a swing at him, cutting a slash through his wrist, albeit shallow.

He hissed and growled, flashing a feral kind of fury your way as you inched back, pointing the end of the blade out before you and ready to strike again if he dared get close enough. Dabi knew you couldn’t get very far running with an injured ankle, probably couldn’t even walk without too much pain, so it wasn’t you getting away that he needed to worry about. You were aware of this too, but you couldn’t let him onto your own self-doubt.

You thought back to your reflection in the mirror that morning, the red cloak that covered you reminding you of a rose— beautiful from afar, but if reached for would be quick to prick you with its thorns.

That’s right, you thought to yourself with malice, I can be dangerous too.

You slashed the weapon through the air, trying to lunge forward half a step as an intimidation tactic, but that air of confidence fell from your entire being the moment you took his appearance in full, enough distance between you two now for you to see the whole picture, the unmistakable ears and tail that could only belong to a wolf perched upon his spiky black hair and swishing irritably behind him.

But it wasn’t just those characteristics that caught you so off guard.

It was his scars too. So many of them pressed under his eyes and jaw, his neck and chest and in discolored blotches trailing up and down his arms, his hands, skin melted and marred by what you could only guess were burns.

But what— or who— could have done something like that to him?

You realized it was likely only one person— one group of people— on account of how often the church liked to remind the public how they dealt with things they deemed inhuman.

Maybe if this man (if he could be considered as such) weren’t trying to kill you, you’d feel sorry for him…

Dabi let out another one of those sinister chuckles, proving himself to be anything but amused as he waded back into the fog, speaking as he disappeared into the mist, “You really shouldn’t’ve done that…” And then he was gone. Out of sight, but not retreating.

You turned in small, stuttering circles as you tried not to shift too much weight onto your sore ankle, dagger held out before you and ready to draw more of his blood if you so much as thought you saw his form shift through the mist.

But he was merely toying with you again, hiding out and letting your own terror unravel you, letting it wear you down enough so you lost some of your fight before he would strike again.

And it was working, the more adrenaline you lost, the more your injury began to ache, the looser your form became, and then, just as you were beginning to think perhaps he really was gone, that now your biggest problem would be making it out of these woods alive, forget about before nightfall, you backed up into something— someone.

“Why don’t you put the knife down…” Dabi’s voice sounded right beside your ear, his fist once again latching around your wrist, squeezing until the pain caused you to unclench your fist and drop the blade, your last hope at fighting swallowed up by the thick ferns by your feet. “Wouldn’t wanna hurt yourself.”

“That’s rich…” you retorted with scorn, wincing as his grip pressed in harder, merely for the sake of drawing more of those pitiful whimpers from you, “coming from you…”

Dabi let out a sardonic scoff, pulling you back against his chest, holding you in place even as you twisted and writhed against him to break free. “Yeah, well…” he murmured, grabbing your other wrist and twisting it painfully behind your back, nearly causing your knees to buckle as you let out a yelp, “I think I wanna be the one to hurt you.”

You kept trying to fight, even tried to scream, but Dabi didn’t seem to be concerned with being overpowered or overheard. Eventually, he even seemed to grow bored of the whole thing, as if this wasn’t a matter of life and death.

Well, for him, you supposed it wasn’t.

“What are you gonna do to me?” you eventually gained enough courage to ask, trying to spit the question out with more fury than fear. “Gonna eat me alive and leave my corpse for the crows to pick at?”

He seemed to freeze then, as if confused, before letting out a real laugh and saying, “Oh wow, so they still spread those kinds of rumors in the village, huh?” He adjusted his grip on you, flipping you around so you were facing him now, though was quick to back you up against the nearest tree, taking both your wrists in one fist and pinning them above your head, bark scraping against the tops of your hands, caging you in as he leaned in towards your face and spoke in a voice just barely above a whisper, those glowing sapphires narrowed in a sick, satisfied kind of cruelty, “Bet they scared all the kids stiff with stories of the big bad wolf, huh?”

You winced and turned your face away from him again as he drew nearer, his lips ghosting over your neck as he nudged his nose into your hair, taking in the scent of you, memorizing it.

And, god, if he’d been drawn in by your pathetic little sounds of struggle before, so weak and helpless against him, then your smell was enough to drive him crazy.

He had half a mind to sink his fangs into you right then and there just to save himself the trouble of keeping you compliant later. Or, he then figured, perhaps he’d like to hear you gasp and yelp once he finally got a taste of your blood.

But you were still insisting on playing the bravery card, or whatever little of it you had left, stuttering out in response to his taunting, “Y-yeah well, if what they describe in the stories really is you, then I’m afraid they’ve severely over-exaggerated.”

Another one of those patronizing chuckles, the tilting of his head as he pulled back to stare you directly in the eyes, his cerulean glare burning through you as you forced yourself not to look away. You gulped, your entire body trembling, and he brought his free hand up to your neck, lightly tracing the line of your throat, almost as if admiring it, your skin soft under his calloused fingertips.

When you tried to tug away, his grip on your wrists only tightened, the pain continuing to keep you obedient, and the scariest part was quickly becoming how unpredictable he was, so set on tormenting and hurting you one moment only to touch you like you were the first human he’d come across in who knows how long the next.

Well, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you probably were the first human he’d come across in a while…

“I’ve seen you out here before, y’know,” Dabi then admitted, his voice soft and soothing, a stark contrast to the way he was crushing your wrists in his palm, your bones grinding together and making you grit your teeth. “But today…” He took the fabric of your cloak between his lithe fingers, tracing the line of the hem up towards where the black fur bordered the hood, tufts of it tickling your cheek when you tried to turn further away from him. “Today this caught my attention.”

Again, your father’s warning came back to you with horror, like ice settling in the pit of your stomach, a sinking realization.

Easier for hunters to spot, and predators too.

Even with the dagger, you’d been nothing but helpless prey.

“It’s new…” he remarked, carding his fingers through the fur, gazing at it, almost with a hint of recognition, maybe even fondness, before flicking his stare back to meet yours. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s from the wolf that killed my little brother!” you snarled, eyes brimming with tears again, though this time it was all resentment. “That’s what we do to monsters around here. We end them. Then we wear the remains to warn their friends that they’ll be next!��

Your frightened shaking had turned into enraged quaking, gaining some of your fight back despite now being unarmed and outmatched. Because you had teeth and claws of your own. They might not’ve been as sharp, but the intention behind the attack would land regardless. The moment he let you go, you’d show him.

The scarred man— wolf— whatever he was— narrowed his sapphire glare, clenching his jaw, clearly displeased with your commentary on his kind, but then, to your own surprise, he actually released you.

You were so shocked you nearly forgot about attacking him, just stood there, waiting for him to move impossibly fast again and pin you to the ground and stain your white dress to match your cloak with your own blood.

“It’ll be sundown soon,” he then said, voice calm yet still warning. “You don’t wanna get caught out in these parts after dark.”

You scowled at him, wishing you still had your knife, trying to search through all the fern and reddened flora touched by fall for a glint of silver without being too obvious, and replied, “What I wanted was to be at my grandmother’s by now and already headed home!” You adjusted your cloak, fidgeting with the gold clasp, not daring to take your eyes off him. “But even if I wanted to get there at this hour, it wouldn’t even matter because you destroyed my basket!”

“Oh, I was the one who destroyed it?” he asked, lazily faking offense. “Actually, I think it was you who dropped it back there when you veered off the path.”

“Only because you chased me!” you bellowed, sentence upturned towards the end with a frustrated shriek. “So if this is all fun and games for you, I hope you’re satisfied! But, if you don’t mind, I need to find my way back to the main path.”

You went to take a step and walk past him, suddenly feeling more inconvenienced by his antics than anything, but he grabbed your arm, yanking you back and making you hiss and shoot him a venomous glare. “You think you’re gonna make it home before dark with that injury?” He glanced at your ankle, which was surely a little swollen inside of your boot with the way you were still limping on it.

You shrugged him off then, not keen on accepting any of his favors, if that’s what this was leading to. “Well what choice do I have?” you asked rhetorically, frustrations fading back into fear.

Because he was right.

You wouldn’t make it home before dark going half the speed that having two working feet normally lent you, and you most certainly didn’t want to be caught out here without a way to run if things turned south, especially in this unrelenting fog.

He cracked another one of those sly smirks, eyelids drawn down halfway over his entrancing blues, the points of his incisors poking out from behind the crooked, scarred smile. With his ears mischievously perked, he said, “I know a place you can stay the night,” and a part of you was starting to wonder if it just would’ve been better if he’d killed you like you’d thought he was going to do before.

Because wherever he was taking you, whatever was to transpire, would be a lot harder to explain away than the gruesome death of a girl devoured by some beast on her way through the woods.

If you were lucky enough to live to tell the tale, that is.

Bending down, you reached into the tufts of fern until your fingertips brushed against the dagger, taking up the blade with your eyes still trained on him, only placing the weapon in its sheath once you felt he wasn’t going to attack again.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” you asked, trying to inject some authority into your voice despite your distrust in him and the situation you were willingly walking into. “Lead the way.”

***

His cabin was nice, all things considered.

It was nestled between a shroud of thick, prickly pines, deep in the woods— deeper than you ever dared even think about going.

“Did you make this?” you asked, scoping the place out as you turned in slow circles about the room, your injured ankle still throbbing with a dull pain but, so long as you kept a majority of your weight off of it, wasn’t too bad.

As he stoked a fire in the hearth, Dabi replied with a disinterested drawl, “Found it abandoned a while back. Before, well, y’know…” You didn’t know, actually, but you didn’t ask any further questions, were too focused on the collection of miscellaneous items that decorated the place, the chilling thought that perhaps they’d once belonged to lost travelers just like you setting you back on edge. “Anyway, I came back and claimed it once they ran me outta town.” He stood with a quiet groan, studying you with those glowing eyes from across the room, his ears going flat against his head as he saw you about to touch one of his trinkets, snapping at you to keep your hands to yourself.

Like he could talk.

“Sorry…” you squeaked out, hands pulling back into your chest and away from the multi-colored scarf you’d been hovering by. But then you perked up, his prior words seeming to register to you suddenly. “Once they ran you out of town?” you repeated, voice upturning with the question. “Who? The village? Did you used to live there?”

Dabi crossed the room, stalking near, arms crossed and gait lazy, yet his ears perked forward, a dangerous kind of inquisitiveness flaring in his cobalt glare. You took a few steps back, keeping the distance the best you could, but wincing when you put too much weight on your injury.

“You mean you really don’t know?” he asked, one inky brow lifting.

He was so close now, caging you against the wall with his presence alone, and again, with your hand resting on the hilt of the dagger, you found yourself examining his scars, all the scorched flesh that wrinkled and pulled in what looked to be such a painful way every time his face made even the slightest expression.

“I really don’t know…” you admitted, terror filling your body. You gulped, hoping to swallow down as much fear as you could stomach, but Dabi didn’t miss the way the confession quivered slightly towards the end.

Now he smirked, that cold, cruel grin tugging at his scars and making the smile spread crooked. “Huh… Well, I guess by the looks of you, you would’ve been just a kid, too,” he began, his tail lifting a little, the black fur of it catching the amber firelight around the edges. “You don’t live in the town, do you?”

You clenched your jaw, unsure whether you should answer truthfully or not. Because if you lied, maybe it was a trap. He clearly held some disdain for the nearby village. Perhaps he’d been waiting to get his hands on one of its citizens so he could punish them for the crimes of their church accordingly. But, adversely, if you admitted the truth, he might be able to track you down back to the little log cabin your father had built out in the clearing on the edge of the woods, the village just a tiny collection of steepled roofs from down the slope.

So, instead of risking either outcome, you opted to answer with a question as well. “They were the ones who hurt you, weren’t they…?”

You found your hand leaving the safety of the weapon secured at your hip and slowly reaching up for his face, the darkened scars patching along his flesh beckoning your sympathies, begging to be tended to. All the while, images conjured from the darkest parts of your imagination depicted him crucified, flames licking at his feet before catching on his clothes and setting his body ablaze, his raspy voice breaking with a blood curdling cry.

You were surprised that he actually allowed you to touch him, your fingertips merely ghosting over the scars on his jaw, and then you asked him, your voice barely above a whisper “How old were you…?”

Dabi’s eyes nearly fluttered closed at your gentle touch yet he clasped his fist around your wrist, lowering it from his face, denying himself your silent sympathies as his eyes opened again, though they couldn’t meet yours as he answered, voice a little hoarse, “Sixteen…”

Your heart was breaking for him, the boy who’d been condemned as a monster and burned at the stake. He shouldn’t have survived— it was a mystery how he had— but he’d managed to get out alive, even if just barely.

“How did it happen?” you breathed, trying to blink away the mist of tears that welled in your eyes. “I mean, how did you become…”

Dabi let go of your wrist, flicked his gaze back to yours now. With his jaw set and glare steely, he clarified, “You mean how was I turned?” You nodded, chin quivering with both sorrow and fear.

But Dabi sighed then, his dangerous expression dropping back into something weary. He took a few strides over to the table, pulled out two chairs, sat in one, and nodded at the other. “Have a seat,” he offered— perhaps ordered. “It’s a long story. And you should be resting that injury anyway.”

You did as you were told, feeling relief upon sinking down into the chair that was surprisingly comfortable, despite the fact it looked like it was close to falling apart. Before he began, he asked you one last time if you actually wanted to hear the story, saying it wasn’t a pretty one, and you just nodded.

And he wasn’t kidding.

It was horrible.

Tragic.

Gruesome.

But amidst all the gorey details there was one crucial piece of the puzzle revealed. Dabi nodded at the fur lining your cloak, nose scrunching a little with distaste, and said, “I knew it was him the second I saw you. That fur… He was the only one who had a coat like that.”

You sat there, in shock and unable to read whether his disdain was more for you or the animal you were wearing around your neck.

Because, despite the fact that the creature that had damned him to this life and killed your only sibling was dead, Dabi still held him in some kind of high regard. Back when he’d been turned, the speckled wolf was all he’d had. It had been the only one like him, the only one who could understand his pain. So now, with the creator dead, what was the creation to do?

Perhaps become the creator himself, already having a candidate sitting pretty in one of his chairs, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“You two were… friends?” you hesitated to ask, once again preparing to reach for your dagger.

“No,” Dabi scoffed, looking at you like you were stupid. “But after what he did to me, what choice did I have but to trust him? To do what he said?”

You were just about to tell him how sorry you were for that having happened to him— both with the turning and the town— but he cut you off with a slightly biting, “Don’t be. It is what it is…” He sighed, his ears twitching a bit and his blue eyes gaining a far away look, like if you gazed into them for long enough, you’d see the fragments of the memories rippling like coins shining from the bottom of a deep well. But then his smirk returned, even if it was still flickering with a little melancholy, and stated, “They created their own monster anyway. It’s them who’re still afraid of me, not the other way around.”

You supposed he had a point, even if it was still sad.

“So, you’ve lived out here in the woods all by yourself since then?” you asked, glancing around at his knick-knacks again, this time focusing on what appeared to have once been a child’s stuffed animal, a rabbit— once white— turned brown and grey with time and torment. One of its eyes was missing, the remaining black button slightly pulled free from its stitching. You wondered if any of these objects had once belonged to him, had been recovered from his human life, or if he’d had to start from scratch and pick up scraps just to make his house feel more like a home.

“Let’s not do this,” he replied, which caught you a little off guard. Your head snapped back to him, wearing a confused look.

“Do what?” you asked, a nervous smile tugging at one corner of your lips, gaining a terrible feeling that your time in his good graces was finally up.

“You know what,” he insisted with a bit of a sneer, giving you a look that was both exhausted and annoyed. “If you know what’s good for you,” he pointed one of his long, bony fingers lazily your way, “you’ll forget you even met me.”

You knew he was right— knew that the town might burn you at the stake for even mentioning having seen the wolfman, forget about having accompanied him to his house— but you also couldn’t help but be curious.

It wasn’t every day that you met a real, live myth. And a myth that might hold more answers to your brother’s death, if you could bear to hear them.

But before you could try and pry even the most trivial of answers from him, a loud growling erupted from you, both your hands instantly wrapping around your belly, your eyes going round with embarrassment.

By now, you would’ve eaten lunch and dinner, but you hadn’t stopped for your afternoon break on account of the fog and you’d lost your basket during the chase. If you’d made it to your grandmother’s house late and ended up staying over, as you often did when the sun set early in the winter, you and her would be sharing some homemade tomato bisque and dipping in soft chunks of bread torn off the loaves your mother had packed.

So, in other words, you were starving.

You gave Dabi a guilty look, but before you could start to explain, he just waved off your worries and stood from the table, saying as he began to walk towards his cluttered kitchen, “Gimme a sec, I might have somethin’…”

He returned a few minutes later with some bread and jam. The bread was halfway to stale and the jam was hardly sweet, but you were too hungry to complain. Plus, just because he was being nice to you didn’t mean he still didn’t intend to do you harm later. Insulting his offering might just speed up any ill-intentions he had planned. And this would buy you time to think too, discover an escape route of some kind.

However, once you both had eaten your fill, night fully blanketed over the sky and the fog dissipated just enough to show a hazy orb of the nearly full moon glowing through the clouds, you asked him if what they said about full moons and monsters was true.

“The closer it gets to a full moon,” he explained, ears twitching a bit as if the mere confession of his affliction agitated him, “the closer I get to fully turning. Y’know…” he rolled his eyes and lazily swished his tail, “in case you couldn’t tell.”

Your hand twitched, wanting to brush your fingers over the fur lining your hood again, but you fought back the urge. The thought of the beast that had killed your brother once again flashed through your mind and you wondered how closely he’d resembled a human just a few days before. It raised a very important question in your mind then.

“Do you…” You gulped, trying to steady your shaking hands, your quivering voice. “Do you remember what you do… When you transform fully, I mean?”

Dabi slouched back in his chair a bit, admitting, “No… During full moons, we lose all our human memories, and when we wake up the next day, we can’t remember what we did as wolves either.” Then his ears perked up, curious. “Why?”

You asked him if he knew any others like him— others who’d been changed, could transform— and he said he didn’t, not since discovering the one who’d turned him was dead nearly a year now.

He could only assume that, on nights he fully transformed, he lurked and hunted and howled just like the other wolves that lived in these woods, the real wolves, that is. He then made a comment that perhaps he could be guilty of killing innocent women or children just the same as the wolf decorating your hood and he’d be none the wiser.

Needless to say, you didn’t much appreciate that bit of commentary.

You wanted to cry again. You wanted to hit him. You wished you’d let yourself draw your blade so you could drive the blade through his heart. Because even if he hadn’t been the wolf that had killed your brother, the fact that he knew that wolf— could one day be that wolf for someone else— was enough to rile up your need for revenge.

“And what?” you asked, your voice dripping with venom. “You just think you should be allowed to live this close to the town? To even exist at all, if you pose such a threat?”

Dabi’s eyes widened a bit then, a little shocked by your accusation, but clearly not as worried about your fist curling around the dagger’s hilt as you wished he would be.

“And where else do you suggest I go?” he taunted, grinning at your failure to do what you thought was the right thing— to take him out like any other hunter would, like your father should’ve raised you to do.

Only, you weren’t a hunter. Not even close.

In that moment, you were just a girl. A scared, weak little girl who couldn’t do the right thing, even if it meant sparing others from such a gut-wrenching fate.

“How did you find me?” you asked, the question half a demand. But then you rephrased your query, changing it to, “Why did you find me?”

“I smelled the food in your basket,” Dabi lied, boring his malicious stare into you until you backed off a little. But then that playfully mean streak swooped right back in as he added, “But once I saw you, well, guess I just couldn’t help myself.” Your scowl deepened but that only made him snicker. “No, but really. With that red cloak, you stood out even through the fog. You know a hunter could spot you from a mile away, right?”

“Well, yeah, that’s sort of the idea,” you corrected him, pure hatred in your tone. “The last thing I need is one of them mistaking me for a deer and shooting me dead.”

“Well with those doe eyes of yours I’d say it’s still an easy mistake to make.”

You froze, once again finding yourself unable to predict his intentions, you brows still slightly pinched but in a way that was more worry than rage now. His stare stayed steady, waiting for you to react in some kind of way.

You cleared your throat, feeling the nerves skittering around in the pit of your stomach.

You knew that look. Had seen it directed your way at least a dozen times on every one of the rare outings you made into the village to procure more provisions. It was half hungry, half arrogantly hopeful. You were used to averting your gaze though, hurrying past the men whose eyes trailed after you like hungry dogs salivating over a piece of meat. Though, with those piercing blues shining through the dark at you, even with the quickly rising terror, it was hard to look away from him.

“I…” Your voice cracked and you tried to swallow again, the lump in your throat only growing. “I think my ankle has probably had enough rest… I think I should get going, I—”

“Oh, c’mon,” Dabi said, rolling his eyes. He pushed up from his seat at the table, chair legs scuffing across the uneven wooden floors. He cocked his head at you, flashed those sharp white teeth, and said, “We both know you’re not going anywhere.”

***

Maybe the priests had been right.

Maybe demons really were real.

If they weren’t, then how had Dabi bewitched you into his arms so easily?

What had possessed you to let him kiss you, to not back away when he’d leaned in and pressed his rough, mismatched lips to your soft, trembling ones?

Even when he’d disarmed you, grabbed up your knife for the second time and slid it far out of reach across the kitchen table, why hadn’t you tried to pull away? Begged him to stop? Plead for mercy?

Maybe because your insides had twisted in a painfully sweet way when his big, slender hands had started tugging at the strings on your corset until it came undone, slipped up under your dress and touched you in places you’d never felt before, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin and your breath to hitch as the sensation traveled up your thighs, your hips, your stomach, your ribs.

Surely this must be the work of a devil, you thought, giving yourself to him so willingly as if he wasn’t going to use you and then do away with you like monsters were known to do. Because it felt too good, sinfully good, when he sucked dark bruises into your neck, nipping at your tender flesh with sharp incisors and chuckling darkly whenever he pulled one of those helplessly adorable whines from you.

“If only you knew how long I’ve waited for this…” you thought you heard him mutter as he pressed his nose into your hair again, savoring your scent like it was honeysuckle sweet. “How long it’s been…”

You thought maybe you ought to stop him before things went too far, his strong hands gripping you a little tighter, pulling you harder against him, settling you in his lap and making you squirm when you felt the hardness of his length pressing against your most intimate areas.

You tried to push against his shoulders, create a little distance between you two, but when you saw that feral desire burning in his eyes, you knew even if you asked— even if you begged— there was no way, not in any hell he’d come from, that he was going to listen.

“I…” Your voice broke, the confession stuck in your throat.

Dabi was hardly listening, too occupied with running his hands up and down your form, making you let out a startled squeak when he grabbed your ass, clearly enjoying the way you looked so shy— so embarrassed— at being in this situation, legs spread over his lap and throbbing little clit searching for any pressure, any relief, when you settled a little more over his growing erection.

“God, if you could see yourself right now…” he sighed, as if in awe, combing his fingers through your hair, smoothing it back from your burning face. “Fuckin’ beautiful… Gorgeous… Almost makes all these years of isolation worth it…”

He was working on trying to slip his fingers beneath your chemise, get to the parts of you hidden beyond all those undergarments, and you felt your heart leap into your throat.

“I… There’s something— I don’t think we should—” you’d tried to explain, but Dabi stopped you short as you let out another quiet, caught off guard gasp, his thumb once again finding the plush of your lower lip, mesmerized by your pretty little mouth whether you were speaking or silent.

He should’ve just kissed you again. That had gotten you to shut up and do what he wanted the first time.

“Oh, c’mon…” He gave you a disappointed look. “You really gonna deny me now that we’ve come this far? I mean, what?” he scoffed. “You’re not gonna sit here and tell me you’re a virgin, are you?”

Turns out you didn’t even have to answer that time. Your face turning beet red was enough to tell him he’d been right.

“Oh…” His expression morphed into that playful deviousness again, something only a little evil swimming beneath the surface. His smoky voice hummed out a note of amusement when you looked away, your body starting to tremble again. “Well, now ain’t that somethin’? I snag me a pretty girl and she’s a virgin? I guess that priest was wrong when he said I was goin’ ta hell, ‘cause I’d say this is as close to heaven as it gets.” You shot him a glare that you hoped was angry, but with the fresh tears misting in your eyes, knew looked more ashamed and scared than anything.

When you tried to shrug free of his grip, he held you still, not letting you budge more than an inch. He took your chin between his fingers, forced you to look at him as he asked, like it would make a difference, “What? You betrothed or somethin’? Savin’ yourself for marriage and all that? Like a good girl?”

“No,” you shot back with scorn, though you wished instantly maybe you’d made up something along those lines. “But that doesn’t mean I—”

You hated yourself for crying, suffocating on the sobs that you tried to swallow and stifle, and Dabi wiped away your tears with the rough pad of his calloused thumb, clicking his tongue and cooing at you. “Don’t worry…” he muttered. You met his eyes again, naively thinking maybe he’d let you go afterall. But when that greedy, dangerous glint reignited behind his glare, you knew you’d been wrong to assume. “I’ll make sure I go easy on you, at first.”

Suddenly, your position was shifted and Dabi was the one on top of you, pinning both your wrists above your head on his tattered, patchwork sofa, one knee between your thighs to nudge them further apart as they attempted to clench shut.

“Just be a good girl for me,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “Just be a good little lamb and I’ll treat ya real nice…”

You were just about to try and convince him that, if he let you go, returned you home safely, you’d find a way to cut a deal where you brought him weekly deliveries as well, maybe some freshly baked bread and homemade jam that was actually sweet, roast turkey, your mother’s delectable, spicy gingersnaps— anything he wanted, aside from yourself.

But Dabi was impatient, if anything. And after humans had tried to take so much from him, he was done waiting for them to give him anything.

Because why debate a deal when you were already holding the prize?

“Please—” you choked out, your last resort at trying to garner any of his sympathy, if he were capable of such an emotion. “Just… Please just be careful. I— Please don’t hurt me…”

Dabi smiled then. A real smile, not one of his crooked, malicious smirks. He lightly brushed the back of his knuckles along your jaw, admiring how soft you were, how perfect, how pretty, how delicately human. “Don’t worry, doll…” he murmured, nudging your knees a little further apart, though that time, you didn’t try to resist as much. “I’m not the one you need to be afraid of.”

With one fist still securing both your wrists above your head, he used his free hand to tug down the neckline of your dress until your breasts were exposed to him, the light of the fireplace dancing over your bare skin and turning it gold in the dim light. You let out a shuddering exhale, never having felt so vulnerable in your entire life, and instinctively took a try at pulling your hands free from his grip, but his hold on you only tightened.

You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a whimper, tits bouncing a little with every panting breath, the anticipation searing through you like a red hot branding iron, making you jolt.

You expected him to be rough with you regardless of your pleas and his promises, so you were surprised when he lightly brushed his thumb over the sensitive bud of your nipple, watched it harden from the teasing ministration, only edged on by the way you mewled at the sensation of it, even if it was partially against your own will.

After he pinched and rolled the bud between his rough fingers, causing you to arch up into his touch, he pulled your dress further down to expose more of your torso to him, taking in each new inch of your skin that he saw like it was holier than the last, his mouth beginning to water, his cock aching with how hard it was straining against his trousers.

“I’ll tell ya what…” Dabi muttered, his voice right beside your ear while he stripped you of your dress, tugging down your chemise along with it, tossing them to the floor where your cloak and corset already lay. “Whoever you do end up marrying… He’s gonna be one lucky bastard.”

You were about to snap out some begrudged response to that, but lost your confidence when his mouth latched onto one of your breasts, his tongue laving around the pebbled bud to further tease you— further torture you.

You were trying to stay quiet, as if every single sound of pleasure that escaped you was admittance to defeat, but it was hard when he was so skilled at making you melt, as if he already knew exactly what made you tick.

You bit your tongue and whimpered when he nibbled at you, heat spreading across your skin when you felt his hand cupping your sex, one of his fingers gliding across your slit, spreading you further open, your arousal making you slick and warm for him.

“Come on now…” he half chuckled, half growled, lifting his head only enough to meet your eyes. He gripped your cheeks between his fingers, squished them in his hand, forcing your lips open just a little bit. “None ‘a that… I wanna hear you.”

Then, unexpectedly, he slipped a finger into your tight, fluttering hole, curling it inside you knuckle deep, and when you let out the most delicious little moan, he swallowed the end of your pleasure with another kiss, his tongue working its way into your open mouth.

“That’s it…” he muttered, his lips still against yours, drinking in as much of you as he could. “Keep on doin’ that for me… Just like that… Such a good girl…”

Not daring to defy him, you didn’t try to mute your mewls and moans any longer, crying out in a way you’d never heard yourself sound before when he slipped in a second finger, slowly beginning to pump in and out of you while his thumb massaged firm circles against your swollen little bundle of nerves, more of your slick dripping into the palm of his hand.

“S-stop—” you choked out, wincing at the sting of his fingers scissoring you open wider, trying to arch away from his touch while your cunt only sucked him in further. “P-please— ‘S too much!”

But Dabi wouldn’t relent, could tell by the way your breathing became erratic, your stomach muscles tensed and your legs began to stiffen that you were getting close, just from his fingers alone. With an unamused drone, he replied, “I think we both know you don’t want me to stop, doll. At least, not yet…”

And the worst part was, he was right.

Because it felt so good. And you were so close. And you were starting to fear that you’d purposefully stray from the path again the next time you had to make a delivery, just to chance running into him again.

When your orgasm finally washed over you, Dabi worked you through it, letting the high linger as he kept collecting your arousal, spreading it around to keep you slick for him, continuing to tease you until you were all worked up again.

But he’d done you enough favors already— more favors than he’d originally intended to— and it was his turn to take what he wanted. And how could you blame him? When he could’ve just taken you in the middle of that foggy forest clearing and killed you afterwards, he’d made things nice for you— even made you dinner, if stale bread and barely sweety jam could be considered as such— and was even planning on releasing you once all was said and done, how could you blame him for taking a little something for himself?

“God…” he sighed as he pulled his aching cock free from the constraints of his trousers, the tip blushing red and already leaking copious amounts of pre-cum. He gave himself a few languid strokes, hissing a little and already imagining how good it would feel once he was inside you.

You were staring at him— at it— with wide, terror filled eyes, unable to tear your startled gaze from his length until he was settling back over you, forcing your thighs further apart.

“C’mon…” he urged, taking your chin gently in his fingers, lifting your gaze to meet his glowing sapphires again, a faint attempt to put you at ease. With his voice fading into what, for him, was supposed to be a soothing coo, he said, “I made ya feel good the first time, right? Well this is only gonna make it better. Just trust me…”

As he stripped himself of his remaining clothes, leaving the black fabric in piles before the fireplace to tangle with your pieces of white and red, you thought to yourself how you weren’t so sure about that.

You’d never seen your own anatomy in that way— never even seen a picture or a drawing, since any books containing such vulgar images were confiscated by the church— but you were pretty sure, given by how just the intrusion of his fingers had stung, that a cock as girthy and long as his wasn’t going to hurt any less.

As he began to line himself up with you, you went to grab his wrist, as if you had even half the amount of strength it would take to fend him off, and he quickly flicked his wrist to turn and take hold of your own, capturing you once again. But you didn’t try to fight. You just looked at him through your lashes, almost as if you were guilty of something and had just been caught in the act.

“Just… go slow, ok?” you whined, a pout pulling at the corners of your pretty little lips.

Dabi flashed a wolfish grin, the points of his incisors catching the amber firelight and reminding you that he wasn’t quite human, as if the ears perked forward amidst all that spiky black hair and the fluffy tail swishing— dare you consider it wagging— eagerly behind him wasn’t reminder enough.

He let go of your wrist, stroked your cheek in a way that, if not for his nature, might’ve been considered loving, and promised to take good care of you.

And that time, your better judgment be damned, you believed him.

So you lay back for him, surrendering yourself fully to the beast, and tried not to push him away when you felt his velvety tip nudge at your tight little entrance.

But he abided by his promise— went slow with you— the best that he could.

As much as he wanted to sink into you with one harsh thrust, fist wrapped around your neck to feel the cry of pain vibrate through your throat, sharp teeth biting down into your tender, unclaimed flesh, he didn’t.

He tried to call upon his past humanity, think to himself that, maybe, in another life— one where he’d never been turned into a monster and condemned for a title that had been forced upon him— he would’ve met you weaving your way among the village crowds, that wicker basket slung over your arm. Maybe you would’ve given him a smile and wave when you saw him perched at the corner. Maybe he would’ve been the one to ask for your hand, gotten to have you like this in the way that you’d probably envisioned.

Back before he’d been branded by these scars, disfigured to resemble an animal that was loathed by the townsfolk and the church and the hunters alike.

Back before he’d been imprisoned by a life of isolation and solitude, cursed to roam between the pines until an unsuspecting, yet perhaps easily coerced, traveler crossed his path.

Carefully, Dabi rolled his hips into yours a little further, feeling you wince as he sunk in a few more inches, your body already constricting tight around him and making him wonder just how long he would last. He let out a stifled groan, his attention shifting to where his fingers were interlocked with yours, pressing your delicate little hands into the cushions of the couch, not recollecting having granted you such means of intimacy and comfort yet unable to pull away.

“Hurts—” you whimpered, fingers flexing against his scarred hands as you shifted a little, hoping to find a more comfortable position.

Dabi tried not to feel too guilty when he ignored your plea, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder so he could settle in even deeper. You squeezed his hand tighter, little nails biting into his skin, and let out a pained whimper as yet another inch of him carved out a home inside you.

By ways of feeble comfort, the wolf in him nuzzled his cheek against yours, his forehead coming to rest in the crook of your neck until he was fully inside, stilling himself for a moment as you adjusted to the stretch of him. He pressed gentle kisses along your shoulder, one for every shuddering exhale you breathed out through your stifled sobs.

“That’s it…” he tried to praise you, raspy voice a mere whisper. “That’s a good girl…”

He started moving then, keeping you close to him, trading body heat with you like, after this, he’d be damned to an eternity of biting winds and freezing nights, and endless autumn fighting to frost over his bones until his corpse was reclaimed by the earth.

And, god, you felt heavenly, angelic little mewls mixing with the rhythmic slap of skin on skin, the crackling of the fireplace, his thrusts picking up speed and that low growl vibrating in his chest.

Right on the edge of your next release, Dabi pulled out of you, repositioned you to lean over one arm of the couch, most of your weight resting on your elbows as he gripped your hips and pulled your ass closer to him, causing you to arch your back and let out a worried little whimper.

But that time, when Dabi nudged his tip back into your leaking little hole, it didn’t sting nearly as much, to your relief. He nestled inside you with a little more ease, stroking a hand down your spine and making you tremble as he began again with the slow, rhythmic, rolling of his hips.

You felt the pleasure tingling through your body, blood feeling heavier in your veins every time the curve of his cock nudged a sweet spot deep inside of you.

But before long, his thrusts regained their previous vigor, pounding into you until you were crying out and your cunt was clenching down on his cock, your silky walls forcing a long, low groan from him as he filled you with hot, sticky cum— so much of it your belly felt heavy with it by the time his cock stopped twitching inside of you and started to soften.

Even then he remained inside you, greedy for your warmth, draping himself over your back, his scarred chest blanketing your helpless little body, not so much caging you against the couch as simply resting with you there.

You didn’t try to shrug him off, not only because you didn’t have the strength, but because you liked his warmth too. It was different from yours. Yours was like the glowing embers of a dying flame, still hot enough to feel with yours hands hovering over it but not enough to burn. His was like a humid day in summer, the heat radiating off of him, touching everything around it, an inescapable, smothering kind of warmth.

Eventually, when you were just beginning to doze off, Dabi lifted his body from yours and pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and uncomfortable, cold air rushing in to latch onto your sweat sheened form.

“At least this still feels the same as when I was human…” you thought you heard him mutter, your consciousness slipping a little further. He gently turned you onto your back, brushed some of your tousled hair from your forehead, tiny strands sticking to your temples.

With all your senses dulling, the pleasure lulling you into a deep, sated sleep, his voice began to sound far off, a mere muffled echo of that smoky tone even as he lifted you into his arms and began to carry you upstairs.

“‘S shame though…” Dabi spoke softly, now only to himself. “Cause I have to let you go…”

He lay you across his makeshift bed, the bundle of old, frayed blankets stolen from nearby hunting camps, and just stood and watched you taking in slow, deep breaths, so pretty, whether you were running from him or fighting him or fucking him, falling asleep afterwards.

He didn’t really want to let you go. If he wanted to, he could keep you. It wouldn’t be hard, not when he’d also procured several chains and shackles used by the hunters to keep their hounds secured to the posts when they were waiting out a herd.

But if someone like you went missing, people would be sure to notice. The last thing he needed was to give the church a real reason to come looking for the one demon they couldn’t condemn. Besides, he could still track you, follow your scent back to your cabin and wait out your next delivery, coax you off the path and maybe even convince you to accompany him back to his secluded little place between the pines.

For now, though…

For now, Dabi just curled up beside you, nudging his nose against the softness of your skin and hoping for dreams of a time when maybe he could’ve stayed a man instead of turning into a monster.

***

The following morning, as day broke over the forest, thin rays of light slipping through the cracks in the trees and climbing up to the dewey windowsills, you stirred.

You felt something soft tickling your skin, blinking open your bleary eyes to see Dabi’s fluffy black tail draped over your legs from where he lay next to you, splayed out on his stomach with his face half hidden in a pillow and still sound asleep.

A strange part of you was tempted to reach over, scratch behind his pointed ears like you sometimes did with the stray dogs of the village who weren’t too afraid to approach you, but caught yourself and silently retracted.

The weight of last night quickly returned to you as you shifted and moved to sit on the edge of his bed, a distinct ache pulsing between your legs as you searched for your clothes, remembering they were downstairs by the fireplace before tiptoeing down the creaking stairs to gather them and slipping off to a more private part of the cabin to redress, fastening the red cloak back over your shoulders and trying not to dwell on the fact that you’d just done something that could never be undone.

You glanced behind you at the stairs, gaze following them back upwards to where you could just barely see the bedroom door left slightly ajar, your traitorous sympathy causing you to almost regret leaving him like this— leaving him all alone for who knows how long. But what choice did you have?

You grabbed up your dagger, which was still on the kitchen table, wincing as the old floorboards whined under your feet, and carefully crossed the room to the front door.

You only made it ten feet from the cabin’s entrance before you heard his smoky voice call out behind you, causing you to turn and see him leaning crooked in the doorway, “If you wanna get back to the main path,” he instructed, pointing a finger in the direction opposite you were currently headed, “you’re gonna wanna go that way.”

You hesitated, gaze flicking from him to the vast expanse of forest in the direction he was guiding you, wondering if he were telling the truth or not.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you, waving a hand at your worry. “Just go straight that way and you’ll find it, but I’ll warn ya…” You met his eyes then, catching that glowing sapphire gaze narrowing into something preparatory once more. “If I catch you in my territory again,” he teased, “I might just decide to keep you as my pet.”

With that, you simply swallowed, gave a nervous nod, and went on your way.

By the time you made it back to the main path, it was late morning. The fog had cleared, and you were beginning to recognize your surroundings.

It would only be a few more hours until you reached home.

In the meantime, you worked on coming up with a believable enough story to cover up what had really happened. But you knew one thing for sure…

You were going to remember the infamous wolfman— the one with entrancing cerulean eyes and inky black hair and all those scars— who lurked those woods for the rest of your life. And, for better or for worse, it was a myth you were going to take to your grave.

***

(Aaaaaaahh!! Sorry this turned out so long! I sort of ended up abandoning my outline and just going more stream of consciousness halfway through, but I’m pretty satisfied with how it turned out :)

also sorry for getting carried away with the lore lol

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed and have a wonderful halloween!

Thanks for reading! <3)

((Part 2))

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