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cryptiql · 3 years

Text

smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

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lepusrufus · 3 years

Text

The tl:dr (and also the mandatory content warning) is Bela's biological mom was an abusive piece of shit and the hallucinations don't hesitate to dig that up from her subconscious. And then she panics.

But without further ado, here's the short little thing i wrote for this:

---

There was a gentle sense of calmness in working inside the greenhouse. Soft chirping from the birds outside provided a much welcomed background noise as Laura was repotting the… fifteenth plant? Maybe sixteenth, if the group on her left, on different shelves or the stone floor, was anything to go by.

She let out a sigh, choosing to take a break and roll her shoulders for a bit, her back having gone stiff from the position she was standing in. She stretched her arms high in the air, flexing her hands still covered in the thick gardening leather gloves. They were slightly muddy and definitely needed a wash.

A faint buzzing of insect wings caught her attention. It stopped right outside the glass doors, and then got replaced by the sound of heels against stone, coming in her direction.

Laura paid it no mind, busying herself with a pair of shears and realizing that they needed to be sharpened.

A small chuckle escaped her lips when a pair of hands suddenly found their place around her waist. The hands were promptly followed by Bela's chin resting on her left shoulder, complete with a curtain of blonde hair.

"Came to distract me?" Laura asked jokingly.

"I would never," came the reply, although Bela's slender fingers were already hooking around the bow at the back of the dirty leather apron she was wearing.

Laura let her work her way through the double knot she had tied there, even letting out a small laugh at an almost inaudible huff of frustration.

Soon enough though, the bow was undone and Bela spinned her around, placing her hands on the desk Laura was working at, one on each side of her hips, effectively trapping her in place. Not that Laura had any complaints, she simply leaned back against the wooden edge and pulled the apron over her head. It fell on the floor when Bela decided to not grant her the grace of hanging it on a hook, instead tilting her chin upwards and capturing her lips in a hungry kiss.

The kiss was broken as soon as Laura's hand came close to finding its way on her lover's back to pull her closer. Bela grabbed her wrist and gave her a smirk.

"Not looking forward to getting mud all over this."

"Then maybe you shouldn't be in the gardens," Laura matched her expression with a devious smile, but started to pull off her gloves at a tortuously slow pace. One finger at a time, while not breaking eye contact.

Bela wasn't about to let her win their little teasing game however. Her mouth was not needed in pulling off a pair of gloves after all. She leaned down again, lips meeting in a tender kiss that soon turned more passionate when her teeth nibbled on Laura's lower lip, eliciting a small groan.

Any kind of will to tease flew out the window then, the gloves off and thrown somewhere to the side where other tools had been left. Laura pulled her closer by the waist, bodies now almost flush against each other, while Bela was busy leaving a trail of kisses along her jaw. Her hands gingerly made their way up, across soft black fabric and a frilly collar. Fingertips finally found their place on a pale cheek, thumb caressing the soft curve of the jawline.

---

It felt like getting forcefully yanked backwards only to hit a brick wall, the impact leaving Bela dizzy and disoriented. The abyssal darkness that surrounded her like a black heavy fog, suffocating and oppressive, did not help either. The ground underneath her knees felt soft and mushy, almost like walking on moss in the dead middle of the night. Unseen but it's tendency to give way underfoot more than felt.

A choked groan flew past her lips. She felt breathless, like the unneeded oxygen she dearly craved at the moment refused to make its way into her lungs. All she felt was the heavy drowning taste of the darkness around her that seemed to settle in her very bones. It was sending a sensation of pure dread down her spine, panic threatening to take over.

Bela shook her head. Once. Twice. Three times, in an attempt to cast away the lightheadedness but it was all in vain. She wasn't sure if her vision was slowly overtaken by black splotches or it was just that dark.

Her eyes uselessly snapped to the sound of booming footsteps coming directly from her right.

The darkness parted in swirling ashy mist to let the figure step closer, and the sight made Bela scramble to get away. She didn't know the woman, but she seemed so painfully familiar that, were it not for the terror that seemed to grip her heart and cruelly squeeze it, she would've groaned in frustration. Looking up, her blurry vision went over the black attire and rigid posture, with squared shoulders and hands clasped at the front. Further up, blonde locks were held back in an intricate hairstyle, and icy blue eyes looked down with nothing but hatred.

The woman's features were twisted in a deep scowl, nostrils flaring in an angry exhale and lips almost parting in a snarl. It made Bela gulp and muscle memory screamed for her to shield her face.

"Why are you here," the woman's booming voice came out more like a statement than a question. She shouldn't be there. She was in the way.

Bela stumbled on her answer, trembling voice betraying her. "I don't- I don't know-... I'm sorry," the words came out wobbly and barely above a panicky whisper.

Then hands were on the collar of her blouse, disregarding the tearing sound as she was lifted to her feet only to slam backwards into a wall that she could've sworn wasn't there before. "One thing you have to do. Just one," the words came out from between gritted teeth as the woman held her in place, fabric held into a balled fist and squeezing Bela's neck uncomfortably. "Just stay out of my way," she continued, using the other hand to grab her face, nails digging into the soft skin and making her eyes prick with tears. "And you can't even do that right."

Bela shut her eyes when tears started to threaten falling out and took a shuddering breath that came far too close to turning into a pathetic sob. She tried squirming her way out of the vice-like grip the other woman had on her, but that only gained her another angry slam against whatever unseen surface she was being held against. It made her see stars for a moment and she almost missed the next words thrown at her.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you."

She snapped her eyes open on instinct, tears flowing down her cheeks and blurring her vision. Even through the tears however, she saw the woman's features change and morph, blonde locks darkening into black and the skin slowly taking on a far more ashy and pale tone. Even her frame had gotten taller, much taller, dragging Bela up with her and scratching at her scalp as it moved against the rough surface behind her.

The only thing that stayed the same, was the disgusted scowl cruelly thrown her way.

"You can't even do that right," her mother repeated, voice almost unrecognizable from the dripping malice that was usually reserved solely for the vermin that was about to be thrown in the dungeons.

"N-no mother, I'm sorry," Bela choked out, hands grabbing meekly at the fist holding her blouse.

The hand on her face slid down, leaving bleeding stinging marks on her skin. Bela's eyes widened with horror when she heard the tell-tale metallic sound of her mother's talons, together with a glint in the corner of her eye.

She had no time to react before the five sharp claws plunged into her flesh, tearing their way through skin and organs and cracking the bones of her ribcage. She tried to curl in on herself, as much as her position allowed. The searing pain made her choke out a sob that came threateningly close to a scream. She could feel blood starting to coat her skin and soak into her clothes, even making its way into her lungs and suffocating her. A violent cough sent a small crimson rivulet flowing down her chin.

"-'m sorry. Sorry," she slurred, voice warped by the pain and the crying and the now choking sensation of blood stuck in her throat.

---

Laura jerked her hand back in a moment, ony to feel Bela stumble backwards into the wooden desk placed on the other side of the small, hall-like greenhouse.

Bela bent her body forward, blonde hair almost hiding the tears streaming down her face, and slowly slid down onto her knees on the cold stone underneath. Her shoulders shook jerkily with sobs as she all but clawed at her sternum, the pain from her mother's claws seared into her mind.

The scene made something in Laura's chest snap painfully, a river of apologies flowing from her lips. Before she could do anything however, grab for the previously discarded gloves, try to comfort her, anything, Bela's form broke apart into a frenetic swarm of flies. The buzzing felt almost deafening now, but the sound soon died down as she flew out of the open doors.

It left Laura speechless for a moment, another apology frozen on her tongue while tears were starting to blur her vision. The few seconds it took her to move felt like eternities washing over her. She bit down a small sob while looking down at her hands, the black fingertips that turned her skin a dark ashy color almost down to her wrists seeming more disgusting than ever before.

#bela dimitrescu x maiden #laura the garden gf #fanfic

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amberbeach · 3 years

Text

'TRANSPORTED THROUGH TIME'

gif belongs to me

It had been over a month since you mourned Ivan's assumed death. And every day your mind thought of him more than once. A marriage between a commoner and a Knight had been known to happen, though it was uncommon. You were a servant of the young King and Ivan was forever grateful the young King had allowed your marriage.

You were married for barely a month when he left with the Prince, only to never return, leaving you heartbroken. The Prince had told you about the monster who had attacked them and despite the many who didn't believe him, you found his story too descriptive to be born of fear. It only made you worry about Ivan more.

You were walking through the gardens to the castle to attend to your duties when you saw a creature who looked exactly as Prince Colin had described. You backed away from Fury who rushed towards you, screaming when he grabbed your arm.

"You're coming with me."

You gasped when a portal appeared, trying to break free as Fury pulled you through. You looked around the dreary ship, staring at horror at the monsters who chuckled darkly as you were thrown into a cell.

You looked around, pressing your back against the dirty wall, curling into a ball as you wept.

For two days you went without food, your white dress covered in dirt from the cell. You looked up when the cell opened and Fury entered, scurrying to the corner.

"No, no please!"

He yanked you out of the cell and you were transported to the city. You looked around in terror, afraid of the world you had been taken to. You whimpered when Fury's grip tightened on your arm, seeing a group running towards you while everyone else ran away.

You stared at the Knight in shock, tears in your eyes when you recognized him. "Ivan?" You gasped in disbelief.

"Release her now. She has naught to do with our feud." He stepped forward, glowering at Fury.

"Stingrage!"

You watched as the group was blown backward, screaming when you saw Ivan on the ground.

Fury shoved you away, holding the tip of his sword at your neck. "Don't move."

You swallowed thickly, glancing at the group, eyebrows furrowing when you saw them morph.

You gasped when Fury was blown backward, the blast sending you to the ground. Ivan raced towards you, scooping you into his arms and out of the line of fire.

You stared at the golden suit as he placed his hands on your shoulders to steady you. "Remain here."

He reluctantly ran back to fight and you looked at the battle, backing away when Fury growled at you.

You ran off, and Ivan called your name, turning his back on Stingrage who knocked him to the ground. You continued to flee, bumping into people. You stared at their appearances, shocked and confused. You fled to the park, using the trees to hide. You breathed heavily, sliding down a tree to sit down, tears falling down your cheeks.

After Stingrage and Fury had fled, Ivan searched for you, frowning when he saw you were gone.

"Who was that?" Shelby asked.

Ivan looked down solemnly. "Her name is Y/N." He turned to the group. "My wife."

The ranger's eyes widened.

"I must search for her." He walked away and Tyler called for him to stop.

"We'll help you. If we split up we can cover more ground." He suggested.

Ivan nodded, teaming with Shelby as they searched for you. As Ivan moved through the streets, he realized how terrified you must have been. This world was odd to him, but he never felt fear. You, however, were not a Knight, you were soft-spoken and gentle. And now you were 800 years in the future, lost and alone.

"So...you're married?" Shelby spoke up.

Ivan looked around the street, nodding.

"How did you meet?"

"She is a servant of King Colin. I had returned from a tournament and we collided in the hallway." Ivan smiled softly recalled that day.

"Why didn't you tell us about her?"

"When you freed me, I awoke in this world that is so different from the world I knew. Every day I thought of her, and every day I wished I could be home in Zandar. Now she is here, in an unfamiliar world. She must be terrified."

He stopped walking, pausing to turn around. "What is it?" Shelby asked.

"Those trees." He murmured. "It's brilliant." He grinned.

"For what?" Shelby asked as she ran after him when he suddenly sprinted across the road into the park.

"Hiding!"

You walked through the woods, your dress was torn from your journey. You heard someone calling your name and turned to find the source, gasping when Stingrage appeared, holding you. You heard Fury snickering as he walked out of his hiding place. You struggled to break free, pleading when Fury injected you with a syringe. You fell to the ground and the two monsters fought the two rangers, fleeing when more appeared.

Ivan removed his golden suit, rushing towards you, kneeling down to shake you gently. "Y/N? Y/N!" He felt your skin burning up and looked at the rangers. "She isn't waking up."

"Let's take her to the base," Tyler suggested.

Ivan lifted you up and he followed the rangers back to the museum. He solemnly laid you down and held your hand as Kendall examined you.

"There's a small puncture wound on her neck." She told him. "Her signs are falling rapidly. Fury must have given her something."

Ivan brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, listening to the rangers.

"If we find out what it is, we can make an antidote," Riley suggested.

Ivan looked at his friends, seeing their concerned gazes. "Do what you must. As long as she is well."

He stayed by your side, glancing at you solemnly. He watched as Kendall and Riley performed tests and waited eagerly for you to wake up.

When the alarm rang and Stingrage was on the monitor, attacking Amber Beach, Ivan stood up, ready to fight. He swiftly left the base, leaving the team to follow.

When the team returned after Stingrage's defeat, Ivan immediately noticed that you were gone.

"I gave her the antidote and she ran off before I could stop her," Kendall explained, pointing to where Koda slept.

Ivan slowly approached the cave, holding a hand out to stop his team from crowding around.

"It's alright," Ivan assured, smiling softly.

You moved away and he swallowed thickly, holding back the pain he felt when he saw how afraid you were. Your eyes darted around, looking at the group behind him, at the cars passing by, and then at him.

"Look in my eyes." You met his gaze and held it. "I will never let anything happen to you. I swear it. Take my hand." You hesitantly moved forward and Ivan held a hand out to you.

You took his hand and stared at him in disbelief as you stood chest to chest. You hugged him tightly and he buried his head in your shoulder, closing his eyes.

You looked at Ivan, placing a hand on his cheek when he pulled away. He looked down at you, amazed by how little you have changed, making him wonder how long he was gone before Fury took you.

"This is impossible." You stared at him in wonder and disbelief. "I thought you were dead."

He smiled down at you, taking your hand when you placed it on his chest. "I assure you I am very much alive."

You looked at the group who lingered a few feet away, eyebrows furrowing as you looked at Ivan. "This world is strange. The clothes. The monsters...where are we?"

"800 years in the future." He said. "But don't fret, it is not as frightening as it seems." He turned to his team, "Allow me to introduce you. Tyler, Chase, Riley, Koda, and Shelby."

You looked at the group, sending them a small smile. You felt a sharp pain in your abdomen and hunched over, crying out. Ivan caught you when you knelt to the ground, lying you down.

"What's wrong?" Ivan looked at Kendall when she examined you.

"She's burning up."

You grabbed Ivan's jacket and he held your hand, leaning closer as you pulled him down. "It didn't work."

"We'll find another cure."

You groaned in pain and Ivan kept his face impassive while you squeezed his hand, masking how much it hurt. Whatever you were feeling was much worse.

"I'm glad that I saw you one more time."

"You're going to be fine." Ivan looked at Kendall. "Will she not?"

Kendall solemnly shook her head and Ivan looked down at you, inhaling sharply.

"I can't even begin to describe how much I missed you." You whispered, grimacing from the pain.

Kendall stood up, ushering the rangers out of the base. Ivan paid them no mind as he stared down at you.

"Ivan,"

"You're going to be fine."

"I...lo-"

A tear fell down his cheek when your head fell to the side, eyes closing. "No, stay with me." He shook your arm gently, lips parting in shock when he felt your hand go limp in his grasp. His head lowered solemnly as he kissed your hand before placing it on your stomach.

"I'm sorry." He shook his head, "I let you down. I should have been there to protect you. The fates have dealt us a cruel blow, indeed." He placed his hand on your cheek, "I will see you again, my love." He kissed your forehead, pulling away to fight back the cry that threatened to leave his lips.

From the moment he was free he dreamed of being home in Zandar with you. Now you were gone and he dreaded going home to the place that would remind him of you every day.

He now knew what you felt when you heard he didn't return. It was an overwhelming feeling that caused his stomach to churn. He wished you would open your eyes and smile just one more time. But Ivan knew he would never see you smile again. And it tore him apart.

#sir ivan knight of zandar #sir ivan knight of zandar x reader #sir ivan knight of zandar imagine #sir ivan knight of zandar imagines #power rangers dino charge #power rangers dino charge imagine #power rangers dino charge imagines

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hoodie-2 · 3 years

Text

He paid no mind to the screaming and the hands banging against the containment orb behind him hanging from the bunker ceiling, humming a catchy melody he heard from a local band as he inspected the disc he was working on, curled up comfortably in a hover chair he smuggled from Morando's ship.

It felt familiar to a time before coronation day, Aja being dragged back home after running away again screaming about how she wanted a "normal life" and how she wanted to make friends, or to actually see their home planet outside of the palace. It really was too easy to capture her, Krel wondered how Zadra and Varvatos struggled on Akiridion-5. Granted he captured more than just his sister, some of her human allies got caught too, but he released them, of course, he had no use for them.

"I am Aja Tarron, of House Tarron, heir to the Akiridion throne and I demand you release me at once!" He sighed at her childish command, tiresome. "Do you hear me, Loyalist scum!"

Krel pondered for a moment, tossing the disc in the air like it was a coin, if he should have had her strapped down like Kubritz wanted to do. But no, it had to be Krel's way, since he was charged with capturing his twin. They are planning to use her as leverage to get information from his parents, but he had other thoughts. He wanted to send a message.

Another scream. Does she ever stop? Memory serves to say no.

"Well that isn't nice," he spoke finally, making the chair swivel around to face her. He revelled in the way her fury melted into shock. "I am your brother after all, such an insult hurts."

"K- Krel?" She sounded so hoarse from her screaming, she buckled against the transparent wall between them. "You're alive."

"Yes," Krel hummed, unimpressed by the statement. "Unfortunate, I am aware."

"But... but Morando's forces, you were captured."

Krel nodded, eyes rolling. "Captured and spared, later allied. You know how it goes." He shifted the chair so he could sit upside down, looking at the disc in his hand as if it held more interesting value.

"Allied?" Aja echoed. "You allied yourself with our family's enemy?" Anger scrunched up her lovely features again. "You put our planet in danger!"

"I kept our people safe." He frowned at her. "Morando listens to my council, he leaves the innocent alone."

"All of the people on Akiridion-5 are innocent."

"The Rebellion are not innocent, I'm afraid." Krel let his expression smooth over. "They break laws that were in place before I gave Morando the throne. Nothing has changed, just who is in charge."

"You... WHAT?" Aja's hands slapped against the curved wall of her prison. "You GAVE him the throne!"

"That is what I said, yes." Krel nodded. "I will succeed after him. Seeing as I am the only remaining heir." He sat his chair upright again.

Aja's expression morphed into a cross between confusion and insult. "You are not the only heir, I am still here Krel!"

"Ah ah," he wagged a finger at her before pointing at the arch on his forehead. The arch she lacked. "You are heir only in name. I, however, have the royal mark, have made actions for the sake of Akiridion as acting king, and continue to do so."

"As a traitorous prince!" Her four hands fisted against the wall.

"Unlike a cowardly princess!" He shot back, watching her flinch at the words. She opened her mouth to fight them but he cut her off. "I have done everything you never even wanted to do. All for the sake of our people! You do not get to call me a traitor when you have abandoned your own home long before Morando invaded!"

Anger faded from her face again, leaving her thoughts vulnerable, clear in her eyes. He would not let this soften him, not again, not ever.

"Krel-"

"This pitiful mudball has changed you, sister." Krel turned his gaze back to the disc, flipping it over and over in his hands. "You forget yourself, playing pretend with the humans."

"I am not the one who forgets them self." He heard her hiss, at the edge of his vision, he could see her gather herself up against the curved wall. It was a good choice to use a spherical prison. "After all, you sit in the enemy's hands."

Krel huffed a dry laugh. Oh, if only she knew.

"Oh, what must you think, sister? That I dance for a false king? No no, you have no clue." He taunted her. "He commands for me, one delson he will see this. After all, he agreed with my plan to release you."

"What?" She pulled back from the wall, confusion furrowing her brow. "Is it to find Mothership? You plan to follow me don't you?"

Krel slumped back in the chair, making it sway as he eyed her with amusement. "I have now need to find Mothership, I did find you easily enough on my first outing. Mama and Papa too."

Aja's eyes widened with shock, her jaw slack. She tried composing herself again, tried to keep herself angry, tried to hide her fear. But Krel knew better, better than anyone else.

"What do you want then?" She demanded through clenched teeth.

Krel showed off the disc he's been playing with, it flashed a gentle blue. "You all must be behind on the events after Coronation day, I need you to deliver this to Mama and Papa."

"And why would I do that?"

A grin curled across Krel's face, his eyes unfazed by her demeanor. "Because it is the only way you will be leaving this place. Mustn't make Mama and Papa worry, their precious child staying past curfew again." He chuckled mockingly.

"Why are you doing this Krel?" She demanded this, pain streaking over her features. It stabbed deep into his core. "What have I done, what have we done for you to do this?" Liquid started to trickle down her face, the streams glittered like starlight on her cyan skin.

"It is more of what you haven't done than what you have." He replied, tipping his head to the side. "But on the subject of what you have done," his eyes grew colder as they returned to focus on his sister. His twin. His other half. "You have forgotten me while you reside here. You have abandoned me to my potential demise. Mama and Papa too."

"No," she spoke barely above a whisper, her head shaking frantically. "No, no, little brother- Krel, you are not forgotten, I promise. We mourned you, *I* mourned you. Zadra wanted to go back for you, I tried to convince Varvatos, but he said it was too late." More liquid spilled from her eyes, the streams becoming thicker down her face. "We thought you were dead."

"Hm," he kept his expression even, untouched by the display. "And I prayed that you lived." He shrugged carelessly. "At least one of us didn't lose hope." He stood up on the chair, pressing the disc to the wall, pushing it through.

"See that Mama and Papa get this. It will only play once after activated."

He startled when she grabbed his hand that had pushed through the wall, gripping it tightly in three of her own.

"Please, Krel," she pleaded, pressing her head to the ball of hands. "Come with me. Mama and Papa will be overjoyed to see you. To know that you live. To know that our family is whole."

He said nothing immediately to respond. Pressing his three free hands against the wall but not pushing through, using them as leverage to pull his fourth from her grip, releasing the disc into her hands.

"That is the problem, Aja," he spoke mournfully, meeting her face of disbelief with no emotion of his own. "Our family isn't whole."

Aja's prison started moving upward into the ceiling, causing her to panic, pressing herself against the lowest parts of the wall. Anything to get closer to her brother.

"Littler brother!" She cried. "Please don't do this! Think of Akiridion!

"I am, sister dear," he answered lowly. "More than you ever have."

#3below #tales of arcadia #krel tarron #general morando #morandos prodigy au #aja tarron #king failkov #queen coranda #trollhunters #wizards #wip #do not think i didnt cry writing this

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riseofarmy · 3 years

Text

03 | DO YOU EVER LOOK AT SOMEONE AND WONDER

i can do this all day 03 | do you ever look at someone and wonder

author : @riseofarmy

pairing : kim seokjin x original character

words : 2533

i can do this all day masterlist

previous chapter

SEOKJIN

How isn't she tired yet?

I'm tired, and I've only been floating behind her for the last three-ish hours. When she first noticed that I was laying on air, her dumb cat hissed at me, but she just widened her eyes for a second before ignoring me.

Maybe she's just been desensitised by all the stuff she got sprung with today.... which is strange because people usually come looking for the lamp knowing there's a djinn inside. Then again, it's been a while since I've been awaked this far in the past, and it's further in the future that people know about the 'genie' myth.

I know that my first few masters summoned me one after another, but somewhere along the line, I started serving people from all different times. That stunning suit I had on before was made for one of the most popular boy groups of the 21st century, but I hadn't considered that I would be so far back in time that it would be ridiculed.

I still can't believe that: my master tried to kill me, then barely two minutes later made fun of my sexy jacket and oh my god, I don't even know her name.

"Oh my god, I don't even know your name." The little terror on her shoulder stares at me with its dumb, beady eyes.

"Darling." She didn't even turn to me when she answered.

"What?"

"My name. It's Darling. Darling Surya".

Darling. I size her up, running my gaze over her. Her face was a little plain, but it looked downright fierce with her buzz-cut and wicked jawline. Paired with her long jacket and the general get-out-of-my-way vibe she gives off, she doesn't seem like a Darling at all.

"Darling? Is it weird when some random person calls you darling without realising it's your name?"

"I had been using the name Surya while I pretended to be a man, so I've never had to experience that." Wow, plot twists be like.

"Why did you pretend to be a man?"

"Because all women are good for is marriage, and I needed a job to save up money so I could come here."

Yikes, alright then. I have a feeling she's always this intense.

She has my interest piqued though, and I keep asking her questions. She's blunt at first, obviously preoccupied by something else, but eventually she relaxes enough to give me more detailed answers. I even suck up my dislike to her dumb cat and float beside her instead of behind, and she doesn't seem to mind.

I learn that her father is from Daehan-Minguk and her mother from Paaratham (modern-day South Korea and India respectively, which explains her darker skin) and that she was a heavy labourer for two years to save up money to move from Paaratham to Daehan-Minguk.

She explains that the king is an asshole - making downright treasonous comments about him throughout - and that we were currently going to his son's birthday ball.

She doesn't tell me why we're going, though, because supposedly she's 'still sorting it out', but it must be something serious since she dances around the question with a tight expression until I ask her about her cat.

It's a little strange to just talk like this.

I always make sure to learn about each of my masters so I can serve them better. Darling, though... she one of the few who I can say don't feel like a master. Most of the others went straight to telling me everything they would do with the money they were going to wish for themselves, or the apparently tragic stories that made them so deserving of the power they wanted.

Darling, just talked about her parents and Yoongi a lot, and even asked me questions about being a djinn.

She was baffled when I told her I've served people from different times, mouth dropping and fingers tightening on the lamp which she still held in her hand, and she wanted to know what the world is like in the future. When I told her about phones, though, she decided I was making it up and asked something else.

Still, it felt nice to talk to Darling. Nice enough that another hour and a half passed without me noticing, and soon enough, dusk had fallen and we were approaching the nearest town.

"I know an inn nearby, but I'm not sure how people would react if they saw someone in the air. I think you should stop floating for a bit." Darling looks pointedly at me until I set my feet on the ground with a huff.

"Silly humans and your non-floating ways. Do you realise how much of a time-waster walking is?"

"My bad, Seokjin. I'll make sure that next time I'm born as a genie." My lips curl into a grin of their own accord at her response, and I see her own do the same out of the corner of my eye.

The streets of the town are busy, but Darling navigates them fairly easily. It becomes more and more apparent, though, that there is currently something going on - people are bustling around busily, and Darling looks increasingly worried until we finally end up in front of an inn.

Inside, I immediately understand why Darling looked troubled - the inn is almost overflowing with people. Darling runs a hand over her buzz-cut and pushes the lamp deep into her pocket, then tells me to wait in the corner while she talks to the innkeeper. I try to follow her anyway, but she gives me a wicked glare and leaves her cat next to me so I stay put.

"What are you looking at?" The cat doesn't even blink, just lays down next to my feet. It doesn't seem to mind when I crouch closer to it, so I give its fur an experimental poke.

It opens its eyes lazily, slowly flicking its tail in my direction until I give it another poke, soft this time. Dumb cat. I could make you disappear from existence right now and you wouldn't even realise. As if sensing my thoughts, the cat bats at my hand, but then lets me pat it again.

"Yoongi likes you." Darling, who appeared without me even realising, looks down with sickeningly love-filled eyes at the cat.

"He what now?"

"Yoongi. He doesn't like anyone touching him except me, but he seems to be okay with you."

"Oh. Well, that's too bad for him because I hate cats."

"If you say so." She raises her eyebrows as if she doesn't believe me, but before I can reaffirm that no, really, I hate cats, she jerks her head to the stairs that I think lead to the rooms. "It's good we came here first, because the other inn is already full. There's a festival in Mansae the day before the ball, so people are staying here on their way to it and there's only one room left here. You okay with that?"

"I live in a lamp, Darling, I'm sure I can manage." She gives me a small smile and hikes her rucksack up before picking up her cat.

The innkeeper comes to us with a very capitalist smile and leads us to our room. He doesn't shut up, somehow managing to fit his life story, three comments about how 'we're never been this busy' and even an offer for me to marry his daughter in the two minutes he has our attention.

Darling just rolls her eyes when we're finally shown our room, and I remember her words from before - 'all women are good for is marriage'. I wonder if the innkeeper's daughter knew she was basically being given away by her own dad.

"Seokjin!" I pop my head into the room, which Darling had already unlocked and was going through. It was just big enough for a bed, a small table with a chair, and a tub behind a bamboo screen to bathe in.

"Yeah?"

"We have to get to the palace by tomorrow afternoon, so we're leaving early." She grabs a pillow from the bed to fluff it before throwing it back down. "You sleep here, I'll take the chair."

I think the sight of me floating has completely disappeared from her brain. "Darling. Sweetheart. You are a human, and need sleep. I am a genie, and have my lamp and don't need to sleep. Take the bed."

Darling's hand had been hovering protectively over her pocket, but now she pulls the lamp out of it and glances up at me.

"Oh. I guess that makes sense. I thought you wouldn't be too thrilled at the idea of going back into your lamp so soon. Plus, I wasn't planning on sleeping."

That makes me pause, and I consider her predicament for a moment. Darling - visibly tired, stressed out and her mind obviously occupied by something that she's been turning over for who-knows-how-long, yet here she is offering me a bed. Me. A literal genie with my whole-ass magic thing going on. Because she thinks I would be sick of being in my perpetual home one more night. Cute.

Then I notice how tight her grip on the lamp is, and that's when something clicks in my brain.

Hah. I wonder if she realises how easy it is to read her.

"Interesting, Darling, but may I offer a proposition? You sleep on the bed, your dumb cat can do whatever, and I'll do my floating business. Win-win-win, am I right? Also, c'mere."

She widens her eyes warily when I hold my hand out for the lamp, but passes it over with some hesitancy.

"What are you doing?"

"Trust me, Darling."

I watch her expression morph from confusion to distress as I melt the golden lamp into a chain-link necklace. Taking a step closer to her, I reach across the space between us to loop the chain around her neck and seal the ends together so there isn't an opening to the necklace. The purple gem thing - even after all this time, I don't know what it is - rests just below her collarbone, glinting in the dim light from the candle we were given.

"There you go! Now you can sleep without having to worry about losing it! Wow! You can thank me now!" I smile at her, but she doesn't notice. She fiddles with the necklace experimentally, a frown bringing her eyebrows together.

"What if someone pulls it off?" How Darling of her, always going around ruining the mood with her silly questions.

"Nopsies, the only ones who can even touch it are you and me. And your stupid cat. And I'm the only one who can take it off you or change its shape, so hurry up and thank me you ungrateful shit." I smile wider, tilting my head in expectation, and the tiniest hint of a grin graces her lips.

"Thank you, Seokjin."

"You are absolutely welcome, Darling dear. Now sleep." Before she can say anything else, I push her onto the bed and tap her forehead. She doesn't even have a chance to look surprised before she's unconscious, fast asleep as the purple remnants of my magic curl around her head.

I pull a blanket over her and poke my tongue out at her dumb cat when it jumps up to sleep next to her. It ignores me.

Oh well.

"Look, Mansae will be in front of us in a second. We'll be able to see the sea too."

Darling draws my attention to the view ahead of me, where we're about to break through the forest's treeline.

She woke up at fuck-all o'clock to find me playing on my Nintendo, and barely ten minutes later we were out of the town and on our way to the palace. We avoided the main road until now by picking our way through the mountain, but we were close enough to the capital, Mansae that we couldn't avoid it any longer.

With one last turn, the palace is laid bare in front of us.

The main road snakes to the palace and the houses and markets that surround it, which were in turn set within a wide valley circled by the Mansae mountain range. Through the space between two of the mountains, we could see the faint glimmer of the ocean far away. The palace itself was a spread of white towers spearing the sky, the path leading to it choked with people weaving between markets.

We join the crush of people heading to the palace for Jungkook's birthday-and-wife-picking-ceremony and are instantly shoulder-to-shoulder with sweaty strangers. Darling's elbow digs into my side as we walk, but she's too focused on babying her dumb cat to realise. I bear with it until we reach the markets, but I can't stand it anymore.

"Darling your elbow has been jackhammering a hole into my ribs for an hour."

She practically rips her gaze away from her cat to look up at me. "Seokjin, I can promise you that you are not the only one in this crush of people with an elbow in your ribs. Still, sorry about that, I wish there wasn't so much of a crowd."

"Ohoho, is that your first wish?" I waggle my eyebrows at her jokingly, but she doesn't realise I'm only kidding.

"No! No, that is not a wish!" She seems to be visibly panicking, a flush climbing her throat as she splutters in her attempt to make sure her wish isn't used. Cute.

"Okay okay, that's not your wish, I get it. But uhh, now that we're on the topic... What is your first wish?"

"I'll tell you when it comes to it." Ah yes, Darling - putting up brick walls faster than you can ask her questions. This time, though, that's not an option.

"Nopesies, you have to tell me. Come on bestie."

"I will. If I need to. Do I really need to? Can't I just say it when I need it to happen?"

Some times, it's a real bother being the only smart person on a whole planet of dummies. But that's okay - I suck back my exasperation and hide it behind a tight smile.

"Okay. Look. Here's the deal, Darling. It's obvious to me by now that you are not going to wish for money or power or whatever else my masters usually want. If, when you make your wish, it isn't precise enough or it's something I can't grant, I will not know what to give you and that's a wish wasted. I need you to explain this big idea of your's, or else I literally cannot do my job properly, so please tell me: what is going on inside your head?"

The flush on her neck spreads to her face as she mutters something without meeting my eye, but I miss it because she says it so quietly.

"What was that?"

Squaring her shoulders, Darling turns and holds my gaze straight on. There's some emotion tightening her face that I can't fully decipher, something between agitation and determination

"I need you to make the prince fall in love with me."

i can do this all day masterlist

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ilyuobts · 4 years

Text

I'm With You

concept: short story

genre: fluff / slight angst

characters: jeon jungkook & original character (fem)

words: 1.5k

synopsis: a struggling 4th-year college girl that majors in interior designing breaks down in the middle of park at night. it happens so often that the boy can't help but /finally/ take a step into a life-changing moment.

a/n: im over here acting like i'll post this on tumblr but no not really, lol. okay nevermind i'm gonna post it :)

╭⋟──────────────

I'm standing on a bridge

Waiting in the dark,

I thought that you'll be here by now.

You looked up at the dark hue of the sky, with sparkling gems. It was everywhere. wherever you look there's always a star – You're referring to those who expect a lot from you. They aren't many, but the fact that they expect and demand such things from you chains your wrists and ankles onto them. You felt different.

People appreciate stars like they were rainbows and butterflies, but you think of its tears. Crystal tears. It wasn't raining, but you were used to keeping your tears up to your waterline. It hurts not to let it out, but it will just show how /totally/ weak you are in the midst of your semester. It was perhaps, hopeless.

There's nothing but the rain.

No footsteps on the ground.

I'm listening but there's no sound.

The air was cooling. It was chilly and it's in a good chilly. It was frightening. You inhale the pressure and self-problems that you are currently facing and try to exhale it. But every time you do, it doesn't work because it feels like you're inhaling it again as the struggles float in that cool air.

Your hands curled up in fists, your shoulders stiff and your breath rigged. You blinked your eyes too many times that the tears gave up holding on. You whimpered softly - your voice releasing. And slowly, those whimpers multiplied. The tears morphed into waterfalls. Your body slowly letting go. But you resisted it. You didn't want to feel even more weak, even while crying softly.

Isn't anyone trying to find me?

Won't somebody come take me home?

It's a damn cold night.

Trying to figure out this life.

The only thing that your tattered soul is holding onto is you. You depended on yourself. You thought you'd make it through storms like this, alone. You thought it was the epitome of maturity - that if you didn't need any help and that you felt secure of yourself you wouldn't be having second thoughts of finding someone. But maybe this time you were going to be corrected.

Maybe this time you'll be fully guided. Maybe, this time you'll be helped. It was so obvious to you that you're on the peak of stopping life. To loathe in the thoughts of... Those stars. It was hard - wanting to take a break to recover. But in exchange, they'll be expecting more of you. And you thought about it. You have to hold on, even on the most fragile branch.

Won't you take me by the hand,

Take me somewhere new?

I don't know who you are,

But I'm with you.

"Y/N?" A soft voice slowly spoke to you. It was behind you as if he knew you needed someone to hold your back. To push you forward. You knew it was a guy, but little did you that he will be the one you'd be able to depend on, and not on yourself anymore. Your mind was brought back to reality after your name rolled off his tongue. You wiped your tears with the arm of your hoodie and tried to balance your breathing.

You fixed your sling bag with your school supplies and slowly turned around to the person that has seen your vulnerability. "Oh, Jungkook." You responded quietly. Out of all of your colleagues, it was Jungkook. The two of you weren't really close. But for some reason, you felt something when you see him. A connection? Hope? Whatever it is, you felt good when you're with him.

I'm looking for a place,

I'm searching for a face,

Is anybody here I know?

"What's wrong?" The typical question, of course. Even if you knew that a person will ask that, nobody really has the balls to ask you. So it didn't really matter if they ask the obvious, you're just thankful somebody cared. "I'm... At the lowest point of my life right now." You answered softly as you looked down on the pavement. The atmosphere awkward was to you, but it soon changed when Jungkook asked again. "Wanna take a break? Come here, take a sit with me."

Jungkook said holding your wrist - which gave butterflies to you. You wondered, when did your heart skip a beat? You can't remember. You might've never even experienced it. Maybe now. He pulled you along with him to a bench near a light post. You sighed. You're hoping that you'll be able to take a break. You're holding on that little hope that Jungkook will be the one to hold you close. Even just for a while, even just for tonight. Just once.

'Cause nothing's going right,

And everything's a mess,

And no one likes to be alone.

"It's okay if you can't say it now. Maybe later, but don't hide it forever. Not until it becomes worse." Jungkook softly said as he caresses your hand. It was a small affection, but it had an impact on you. And you didn't know why. "I have not enough budget to pay for my rent. Yes, I haven't found a house to live on my own. A house of my own. And this semester isn't really going well for me."

You carefully said as your breath becomes rigged again, but you knew to let it out was healthier - because Jungkook was here. "My peers and my family expects a lot from me. You know, a tradition." You continued. He wraps an arm around you and rubs your back in circles, comforting you to the best that he can. He listened without words, and you highly appreciated that for what you need is someone to listen. And not to demand.

Why is everything so confusing?

Maybe I'm just out of my mind?

Moments after letting out fragments of what disturbs you, you felt better, to say the least. It wasn't euphoric, but it did felt better for you to be able to share what's bothering you. Yes, it's a little odd to share it with the person you don't hang out with - you didn't really hang out with anyone. But then again, it felt as if Jungkook was your soulmate. You never know. You calmed down, your whimpers quieted and your breathing became normal.

"Look, there are days in which we all feel like this. We feel terrified, we feel sad, we feel hopeless, whatever despair that we feel. It's in us." Jungkook carefully said, being cautious with his words. "It'll always happen. But you have to know that it won't last long if you find help. You can't build a house in a day, you also need someone. Don't let your pride take over you. If you think you can't do it, let it go. Cry it out not because you are weak, but because you have been strong for too long, Y/N."

It's a damn cold night.

Tryna' figure out this life.

His words were like the calming breeze over summer air. His gaze is the star that you've been looking for. His warmth is the fire that you've been needing. From the bottom of your heart, you knew it was him. You smiled softly. "Thank you." You were searching for someone to shed some light above you. Someone to get you through every night. A person who could be your inspiration. It was Jungkook. You never met often, but those little run-into-you-conversations was worth it.

Even though every talk gave little information about each other, you knew it was enough. "Because you knew how I feel. I couldn't thank you more." You continued, tears filling up your waterline again. And this time, your tears finally found a new purpose. A purpose of hope and joy. He smiled back and hugged you, ignoring the fact that both of you weren't really close to each other. All he knew is that you needed a hug, and you needed it right now.

Take me by the hand,

Take me somewhere new.

I don't know who you are,

Releasing from the hug, both of you smiled. You kissed his cheek. Saying that you're great was an understatement. You are euphoric. Both of you ate at a restaurant after your graduation. You're officially a licensed interior designer and Jungkook, - a licensed photographer. Both of you pretty much overcome the struggles of finishing college. With all these expectations and demands, you two overcame them and resolved problems that come in between the two of you. You were a lot more thankful than what you said a few months ago when you first officially met him at the park.

The conversation from before sparked both of you and you were more than happy to be in love with Jungkook. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't think I'll be able to get this career." You said. "Our jobs need the inspiration to be able to make our own. It just so happen that both of us became our own inspiration." Jungkook said slyly as you playfully punched his shoulder. "Thank you, Kook." Forever you'll be to him. "Always, Y/N. I'm with you."

#bts btsjungkook jungkook imagine college!au college!jungkook boyfriend!jungkook jeonjungkook jk reader femalecharacter jungkookxreader #Spotify

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