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[missrosegold]

someone new

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

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

Word count: 16K

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem!reader)

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

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

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

Title is from Someone New by Hozier

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

Sometimes Touya wonders how he got here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was a joke if he ever fucking heard one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he met you.

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

-----

He remembers the first time he met you.

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

There he had started his rehabilitation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was more relieved than he thought he would be.

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

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

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

He remembers the day you met for the first time.

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

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

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

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

He sat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d grinned at his remark. “No.”

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

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

That caught his attention.

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

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of you? No.”

“You’re shitting me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were lucky you were attractive.

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

“Mr. Todoroki?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what now then?”

“Now we talk I guess.”

“About what?”

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

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

“…fine. Ask away, I guess.”

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… I’ll think about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had been nice. Comfortable, even.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You left.”

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

“Why did you go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want Touya?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. They not in the country, or—”

“We’ll go with that.”

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

“Sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the end, you’d kept your promise.

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

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

Surprisingly, you’d felt the same as him.

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted you to meet his mother and siblings.

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

His father hadn’t been invited for obvious reasons.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

His extensive skin care routine is one of those tasks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re home early.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really missed you; I mean.”

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

“Mmmm.”

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

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

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

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

He rolls his eyes at you. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not today babe, let me do the work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eyes on me gorgeous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m crazy remember?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you were better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know Touya. I’ve always known.”

FIN

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Learning To Get Along

A/N – So, a user on A03 suggested the snake servants’ new names. It was a stroke of genius on their behalf, and I can only thank them for it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Tag-List: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326  @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch

Do you think you can manage that? Lucifer’s words hung in the air, creating an icy barrier between you.

So, Lucifer thought himself too good for low-life Sinners such as yourself. That wasn’t fair. Sinners might be in Hell for a reason, but sometimes such reasons were just fucking stupid. Heaven ought to base their entry requirements on a person’s character or strength of heart, not just their actions. You had met plenty of Sinners who were in Hell because of the most trivial shit.

There were those who liked to sleep around, but if sex positivity was a problem, then how did Heaven explain Angels like Adam, whom Charlie had told you about in excruciating detail. Lust shouldn’t have ever been considered a Sin, as long as all participants in any such carnal act were above age and consenting.

Then, there were a few murderers you knew. Granted, murder made the lines blurry, but some Sinners killed in self-defence, or only targeted others such as themselves, protecting the innocent in a very gruesome Dexter-like fashion. Were they really to be condemned? And who the fuck gave a damn about Sloth. So, some people were just bone idle, who gave a shit? Heaven apparently.

And now, the ruler of Hell was condemning those around him as well. He was supposed to care for his people, good or bad. Not to mention those who were solely created for or born in Hell, such as Imps, Hell-Hounds, or the Deadly Sins themselves; they hadn’t committed any crimes to get sent here originally – it was their home.

Your eyebrows furrowed, creating an annoyed crease along your forehead.

“No,” You told Lucifer, who stared at you incredulously.

No? Didn’t you understand the situation? He was Lucifer. King of Hell. He could destroy you with no effort spared, leaving no trace that you ever existed, and you were telling him no? He wasn’t an unreasonable guy, but how could you possibly think that being around him was a good idea? Did you respect Charlie more than you feared him? Granted, he didn’t go out much so few knew how powerful he was, but no other Sinner would dare deny him his wishes.

You saw the look he was giving you and decided to explain yourself.

“Look, I’m only here ‘cos Charlie thought it was a good idea, and if you genuinely hate me, I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again, but you’re not even trying right now. You haven’t spoken to me. You don’t know anything about me, and frankly, I think Charlie’s right, you do need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t-” Lucifer started.

“You don’t even know why I’m down here,” You interrupted angrily, though you refrained from raising your voice. “And you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same. Ooh, we squandered your gift of Free Will and now we deserve to suffer for eternity, do we? Grow up!”

Lucifer stared at you in astonishment, and you sighed, apparently not finished in your tirade, “I’m going to my room tonight, but tomorrow, I expect that you’ll at least try to tolerate me. Who knows? We might even find some common ground. We both love Charlie, don’t we?”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say to that. He certainly loved his daughter, more than anything else in the universe, but you? He still suspected that you had some kind of ulterior motive… everyone in Hell did. Yet, you had a point. He would do this for her, even if it meant he had to tolerate you.

Who were you, really?

He looked at you closely for the first time, trying to pick out some detail of who you might have been. It was even more disturbing than he previously thought. Before, he only saw a human. Now, he examined your clothes. There was little to say about the style, but your apparel was reminiscent of a Holy Animal. With the ruffled cuffs of your jacket, the way the back peaked to create the image of feathers, and the yellow ribbon that lined the white material, you looked like a dove.

Yet… Despite living in the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie had insisted that you didn’t seek redemption. Why go through the farce of dressing like an Angel then… unless? No, you couldn’t be. No Angel would dare stray from Heaven unless they were ordered to.

Lucifer held back a glower, trying to keep his emotions in check so you wouldn’t sense his thoughts. There was a possibility, though small that you had been sent by the likes of Adam to spy on Lucifer and his kin, ensuring that none of Charlie’s patrons ever found a way to the Pearly Gates.

Well, it wouldn’t take long to uncover your ruse. Lucifer had ways of telling an Angel from a Demon, and once you were asleep, he would know.

“Yeah,” Lucifer said evenly. “I love my Charlie.”

“So, you’ll try then.”

Lucifer nodded his head in consent.

“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

The sentiment went unreturned as your King returned to his chambers, biding his time until you slept.

When you returned to your room, you got ready for bed. The day had been long and unusual. Honestly, you didn’t feel that you had a place in the manor, and you longed for your room in the Hotel, even if it was smaller, had a large stain on the carpet (which Nifty had named Vivienne) and an unruly infestation of roaches.

In the short time you had spent there, it had become home.

You would miss the arguing inhabitants, the energetic wake-up call from Charlie, the feeling of safety that Vaggie instilled, and the sound of Alastor’s morning and evening radio broadcasts. Yet, you hoped you might find something equally valuable in return if only Lucifer would open himself up to the possibility that you didn’t want anything from him.

After glancing out of your window, which had a balcony you could step out to if you so wished, you took in the whole of the Magne District which was the heart of Pentagram City. If you strained your eyes, you could just see the flashing neon of the Hazbin Hotel, and if you turned your gaze up… There was Heaven, out of reach yet always in sight, taunting most Sinners, yet emboldening a brave few who dared to wonder What If? What if they could change and gain admittance to a better life?

You sighed and dared not ponder further when you needed to get some sleep.

Throwing yourself on the plush bed, you got comfortable, arranging yourself how you liked, then leaning over to your bedside table, you blew out the cherry candle you had previously lit.

You rested your head atop the satin pillows, then frowned, feeling a lump beneath it. You reached under and pulled out a rubber duck, painted to look like a Hellhound-Duck hybrid. Assuming it was one of Charlie’s childhood toys, you placed it carefully atop the table; it would keep you company on your first night in a strange new place.

Lucifer waited till the late twilight hours before leaving his workshop. He transformed himself into a snake, slithering silently through the Hallways, ensuring that you wouldn’t hear him coming.

Before being cast out of Heaven, detecting an Angel would have been a simple task. He would just know, the way he now knew how to read a Demon. Yet, with you giving off little sign of Demonic energy, he now had to test if you were of Angelic origin. There were two ways he could do so. The first was by spilling your blood. Those who were born in or sent to Heaven had golden ichor instead of the oozing red or black goop of Hell-spawn and Sinners.

However, not wishing to alert you to his presence, Lucifer decided to opt for the other method.

Once he was inside your room and certain that you were in a deep slumber, he reverted to his original form, standing over you, his pupils turning to slits at the thought of a traitor in his house. If you were what he thought you to be, he would kill you immediately.

He pulled a small yellow twenty-sided stone from his pocket and baring his fangs in anger, he pressed it lightly against your skin.

Nothing happened.

Lucifer’s expression changed from one of deep-seated loathing to confusion. You weren’t from Heaven. If you were, the stone would have glowed a brilliant shade of Gold. Instead, it remained its original dull yellow.

Very well.

He would keep his word and… Tolerate you.

He left your room as quietly as he had entered it. Tomorrow, things would be different.

Lucifer didn’t sleep that night; the idea of change was terrifying.

The next morning, when Lucifer finally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to face you eventually, he headed downstairs, assuming that was where you were.

“JUST TRY IT!” He heard you yell. “TRY! OPEN YOUR MOUTH, DAMN IT!”

“Uh…” Was all he could think to say as he entered the kitchen and found you clinging to one of the snake cleaners he had created the previous night, in a rodeo-like fashion. The creature was trying to buck you off, with a somewhat derpy expression, probably stupidly assuming it was a game; Lucifer hadn’t bothered to instil them with much intelligence since he didn’t need them for anything more than cleaning.

“ARGH!” You grunted as you were dislodged from its back.

“What- What is this?” Lucifer asked, confused.

“Oh shit!” You cursed, embarrassed to have been caught in a less-than-dignified position. You attempted to regain a little composure by standing up, then held up a handful of wadded-up pancake.

“Do they eat?” You demanded, referring to the reptilian cleaners, “’Cos they’ve been in a picture frame their whole lives, and they must be hungry by now.”

Of all the stupid things you could have done, Lucifer couldn’t help but crack a smile, though he had the decency to hide his laugh behind a clenched fist and pass it off as a cough.

“They don’t need to.”

“Okay, but can they?”

“If they wanted to, I suppose so.”  

You glared at the mushed-up pancake, “I fucking knew it. Spick, Span, eat your fucking breakfast!”

“I’m sorry, who now?” Lucifer asked.

“Well, they clean, don’t they? Spick and Span seem to fit unless you have something better to name them.”

Lucifer chuckled, a half-short-lived chuckle, but one all the same. You were more chaotic than he expected.

“Fine, if you want them to eat, you’ve got to cook in style.”

He waved his hands energetically, his outfit transforming from his usual suit to one befitting a flashy Michelin Chef. He was comfortable in the role of an entertainer as he made a dazzling display of cooking up eggs. With the flash-bang of indoor fireworks, the island counter gained a conveyor belt to transport several dishes, all perfectly presentable and giving off a delectable aroma of herbs and spices.

Eggs-benedict, frittatas, and shakshuka shot by you, closely followed by a hungry Span, though his twin was busy writhing on the conveyer belt, trying to get to his feather duster, yet doomed to chase it since he didn’t think to travel in the opposite direction so it would meet him in the middle.

The sight was memorable to say the least, even when Spick knocked the food onto the floor and his brother was left stupidly sucking on the corner of the countertop where his seemingly new favourite dish had splattered.

You couldn’t help laughing.

“See?” You struggled to get the words out, “I knew they’d like food. I’m just a shite cook.”

Lucifer gazed at his dishes proudly, even though they were no longer fit for either of your consumption.

“Hah,” You said, feeling somewhat awkward now that the moment had passed and Lucifer’s gaze was upon you, trying to figure you out. “I’ll uh, clean this up.”

“No need, leave it to Flim and Flam,” Lucifer said nonchalantly.

“You know that’s not their names.”

“Whatever. So… we’ve met, there was breakfast with a show. We done for today?”

The smile fell from your face as you realised that all of this was just another of Lucifer’s acts. Granted, he might have actually had fun with it, but it was all just in the name of claiming he had tried to be around you, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“I don’t know. I was going to go into the City if you wanted to come.”

“I can’t. I have… plans.”

Lucifer’s mood soured as he thought about visiting Heaven’s embassy to set up the meeting for Charlie. He hated everything about that building. The décor was just a cruel reminder of everything Heaven had banished him from. Moreover, while the Angels had to respect his power, they didn’t respect him; their cruel words and thinly veiled insults always cut him the deepest. Not to mention how bitter he was that the balance of power was uneven. Sure, Heaven had an embassy in Hell, but there was no such building in Heaven where Demons could work to arrange meetings between Angels and him.

It would always be Lucifer going to their building, on their terms, usually at their behest.

“Plans? So, you’re setting up Charlie’s meeting today?” You guessed astutely. “You know, I’m walking that way too.”

Lucifer guessed at your game. You probably hadn’t been going in that direction at all, but this was all in the name of ‘trying’. One way or another, he would have to learn to get along with you.

“Fine. Let’s go,” He said, flicking his hand back blasély, even though he found the idea of walking the streets of Hell daunting.

It would be better if he could teleport there, but at least, by the end of the day, you would have something positive to report back to Charlie.

[a-little-bit-of-ravioli]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @the-real-azalea-scroggs! Had to wait until I was of my phone because doing these is a nightmare on mobile lmao

1. How many works do you have on A03?

18 as of a few days ago!

2. What's your total A03 word count?

157,937! Which is. Only a fraction of the word count in my Docs folder. Be prepared.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I mainly write for The Legend of Zelda; specifically Linked Universe! In fact, that's all that's posted on my Ao3 currently, since my fall into that fandom began with me uploading there! Pre-Ao3 I wrote for Black Cat (Anime/Manga), Megaman NT Warrior, various Pokémon things, Assassin's Creed, Yugioh, Final Fantasy XIV and Octopath Traveler! Some of these I still write privately, but I haven't gotten around to re-posting any.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Whistling on Deaf Ears - My longest fic on Ao3, focusing on Wild and Twilight's friendship and how good intentions can lead to disaster.

Iconoclasm - Warriors deals with the room full of portraits in Cia's palace. The Chain also deals with it, but with a bit more fire.

Deserving - Twilight finally tells Rusl that he was the wolf in the village during TP, but that also means dealing with some heavier topics. Colin half overhears them and forms his own conclusions.

Something Greater - The start of the "Hyrule can see magical auras" series! In this one we deal with Legend and his many rings.

Ocean Magic - Mermaid Legend and Zora Time have a race and then fight one of the Big Octos from WW! Fun times.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Every single one!! I love comments, they give me an excuse to ramble about my fic more!! I am always down to ramble about every single insignificant detail of any line and/or section. If you ever want more background info about one of my fics, look to the comments!

So please, I adore comments, I treat them like treasures, not responding to them would be a CRIME.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

There's no contest; Inevitable, my (so far) only MCD fic.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmm, that's hard to quantify. I usually try to end fics on a hopeful note regardless. I'd say possibly either Deserving, where Twilight reconnects with his family, or Shimmering Blue, Striking White, where Time meets the Fierce Deity settled down on Satori Mountain and they both get closure.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully, no! I've been blessed with mostly amazing and patient readers, even when my upload schedule isn't the best.

9. Do you write smut?

No, not really. I've attempted it, but I'm too asexual for it lol

10. Do you write crossovers?

Very, very rarely. Mostly privately, and only very specific ones. Only a single one has had an actual plot, so far (more on that one in question 15!).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also a nope! I tend to write for smaller fandoms, where these things don't tend to happen a lot!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have! But it's been a while. Over a decade, in fact! I tried to find the fic to link it here, but it was on the German fanfic website fanfiktion.de, and my friend who posted it back then must have deactivated her account, because it's nowhere to be seen (I still have the Word file though!). It was a Multi-Crossover that started as an RP in a forum, and we took turns turning the RP into prose one chapter each. "If a Hero Turns to Dark" was its title. We were edgy teenagers.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Hissssss. Bad question. Shoo. They are all equally important!!

But it's probably TenRose from Doctor Who.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

One of the very few crossovers I've ever worked on; a crossover fic between Assassin's Creed and Doctor Who, that I have mapped out in both chronological and timeline order, and yes, those are different. I only ever wrote about a quarter of it, since my primary audience of it disappeared when we graduated. I doubt I'll ever pick it back up properly, and if I do it'll probably go through heavy rewrites first since it's so old. Finishing it is a nice thought, but realistically, after 9 years it'll never be high priority enough for it to actually happen.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, especially arguments, and emotional impact. I've been told I do really well making characters feel alive and believable! Also I like to believe I'm decent at setting a scene and giving it the vibe I want it to have!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with dialogue tags when nothing much is happening besides the talking. I always feel it's too bland, and fall back on the same phrases. My scene transitions could use some work too.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've done this with Japanese phrases, because I was a massive weeb. Usually I followed them up with their own translations, though; I'm not the biggest fan of footnote translations, unless they are properly linked to. Simple dialogue tags are my favourite way of indicating a language switch.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Black Cat the Manga/Anime! It's a series about an assassin turned bounty hunter trying to live a life separate from his murdery past, but getting dragged back into things by still wanting to avenge his best friend's death. The series has a special place in my heart and my bookshelf, it left an imprint on 13-year-old me that will never leave.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Probably Jailbreak, uncharacteristically enough! It's one of the only fics I never got stuck in once. Writing it was a great feeling from start to finish. I love writing all of my fics, but that was a special few days.

Tagging @ahrva @nowhere-to-go-but-down @silvercaptain24 and @aeghina! And anyone who wants to do it, really, go wild

[shardminds]

the gods grow tired

pairing: gwyneth berdara x azriel rating: e (for everything hurts) wc: 8k and some change primary tags: angst, hurt/comfort, major character injury, arguing as a form of foreplay, sex. for more detailed tags, see ao3. read on a03

In the aftermath of battle, Gwyn follows her heart… what's left of it. It leads her to the edge of chaos, where there is one more life to save.

a/n: happy gwynriel week(s) everyone! this fic isn't necessarily in line with any of the prompts (sorry!) but it tore its way out of me just in time to join in with the festivities. thank you to @gwynrielweeksofficial for throwing such an amazing celebration! i can't wait to work through all the fresh gwynriel content!

@damedechance - here's the tag you asked for, bestie. couldn't have done it without you 💕

warnings: there are some heavy topics in this one, boys. this is the seed that plants the PTSD… or like, exacerbates it. it's rough. the only way out is through and BOY are they going through it. please check the full tags list and take care of yourself first ♥

snippet under the cut!

When the last soldier fell and the scarlet rivers fracturing the battlefield slowed to thin veins, then, and only then, Gwyn let herself breathe. Gentle morning sunlight on the horizon lit the clearing for what it was— a massacre. Where once verdant green and lush copses of sycamores spread through flat meadows, there was now only blood, mire and scorched earth. Bodies, face down in viscera, were all the same. Friend or enemy, and all of them still. Silence, in the wake of war’s cacophony, curled tight around her spine — awaiting the ring of steel against steel, the sting of an arrow.

Koschei met them evenly matched and, in the end, equally damned.

Exhaustion dragged at her bones in the aftermath of adrenaline, its iron chains clasped to her boots and leathers. Five days. It had taken five full days for the battle to wage. Rhys had warned of how long it could take. A fortnight, his estimate. Heavy with hope, rations were packed to last the week. 

Hers were lost the first night, along with four males from her cohort who died to protect it, and her, while she clutched at the edges of rest.

Sleep, apparently, was a luxury the Mother did not allow them. She did not attempt it again.

Food, water — all of it became second to survival. Second to the blade in her palm, the stained ribbon at her brow. 

Despite the training, the blood rite, the experience gained along the way… nothing could’ve prepared for the ferocity, the unyielding brutality, of real and true war. 

The bitter taste of victory was the only thing keeping her upright now, from falling to her knees on the sodden ground and screaming. As if tears could somehow cleanse the filth from her hands. 

No, she had to keep going — to keep moving through violence’s cruel remnants, to find her team, her friends, her Valkyries.

Feyre and Rhys attacked from the field's distant edge, infernal power allowing them to mist entire battalions with hands entwined. Nesta had been back-to-back with Cassian the last time she’d seen them, manifesting death and destruction in their wake. Emerie had taken to the skies in one of twelve aerial legions, an obsidian pegasus lifting her above the cloud cover with over a dozen chosen riders heeding her command as gospel, Morrigan among them.  

Gwyn had volunteered to take the flank, a smaller group of their swiftest, most vicious warriors tasked with infiltrating the scores of Koschei’s hoards by surprise. She’d taken the south and Azriel— oh Gods, Azriel — he’d headed north.

When the first explosion hit on the second day, it had been far from her side of the battlefield. Yet, her chest spiked with fear. 

Then, silence. Horrific, terrifying silence. As if the mountains themselves had held their breath to hear it. 

read more here!

[satanicspinosaurus]

Seconds

Tags: Bloodweave, Gale’s cooking, blood, cow’s blood, gift giving, fluff, getting together, after a break up, basically two hungry and scared people trying to figure out the world, Gale’s POV, so enjoy all his insecurities, and some verbose writing choices that are intentional, Astarion snark, kissing, ear touching, frankly you can read half of this as a metaphor for sex, author can’t stop you, author thinks it would be a mistake though 

Length: 2k

Rating: Teen

Read on A03: here.

Summary: Gale and Astarion had struck up a friendship after a failed night of romance. Now, with the Netherbrain fight around the corner, Gale finds his heart still aches to give Astarion any scrap of happiness he can offer. This is a story about a man made of failures and hunger, trying to be a good friend. It begins with a steak. And ends with this most delicious second course.

With thanks: To my dear friend @lumienyx, who is frankly encouraging my bullshit at an alarming rate. And to the lovely @tragedybunny who hunted down the typos and errors on this like Tara feasting on pigeons. 

•・・・◉・・・•

Gale rummaged through the spice cabinet of the Inn. He was pleased to see that the cook, who had allowed him to slip her a few gold coins for access and privacy, had managed to craft a solid selection. The sprig rosemary seemed a touch too on the nose, so he grabbed a little bundle of thyme instead- striping it into the butter as the filet sizzled in the cast iron skillet.

It was a delicate process, mainly because he was aiming for as close to rare as humanly possible to achieve. It didn’t give him much time to develop a proper crust, but as Gale spooned the butter back onto the filet, he also pulled from the Weave. Perhaps he asked more than normally would be needed for a simple cantrip. But he needed to infuse all the wonderful things Astarion deserved to taste in it. 

Astarion meandered in a few moments later, when Gale had plated it and was intensely overseeing the food resting as if he could personally will it to perfection. 

The vampire gave a sharp tut after observing the scene, perhaps annoyed his entrance hadn’t been noted. 

“When you said you had a surprise for me to try, darling, I assumed it would be something that would make me interested in swallowing,” the vampire finally said to announce his presence.  

Gale looked up brightly at where the playful swatting came from, a warm smile breaking onto his face. He laid the best knife and fork he could find near the plate and pushed it forward.  

“Ah, trust me my dear friend,” Gale encouraged. “I do believe I have made some acceptable advances since the last time you tried my cooking.” 

That had been back when Astarion was still trying to hide what, and more importantly, who he was. Perhaps it had helped in the long run though. It had taught Gale that Astarion could put a wide variety of things in his mouth and pretend to love it. Later, after sampling a decent red Astarion claimed to be vinegar, Gale had come to the quick conclusion that vampirism negatively affected the culinary practice of taste. 

The idea was tantalizing to him. In part because no bestiary had even half the details he could observe in a single evening around Astarion. But he also hoped to reach past the honeyed words for the real truth. 

He was curious, in particular, about why Astartion still attempted to drink wine. It said something about appetite that felt vaguely nostalgic to Gale. 

But then Tav, who had uncritically eaten up Astarion’s sweet smiles and words at the party, eagerly indulged in their place of origin first. Gale didn't feel hurt that Astarion preferred someone else's straightforward affection over his own questions. The tadpoles had made their timelines risky and fortune favored the bold. 

It was a short thing, in the end though. After one encounter, Tav ultimately found her heart lay more with Karlach’s wholesome sweetness. It was better fit for her than wrestling with the delicate halflies that laid nestled to hide half-truths in Astarion’s heart. If it had hurt him, the vampire hadn’t let on, going back to mulling around the camp with hungry eyes and talking of desires. 

And once again, Gale was left turning over the dozens of little curious details about appetite Astarion occasionally dropped; trying to lay them out and find the bigger picture. Gale had been too confident of his ability to uncover that truth once again. Astarion’s sudden thrust backing onto the dating scene hadn’t struck him as quite so desperate, but a beautiful mystery he alone could solve.

He was grateful his hubris had at least allowed him the chance of friendship with Astarion. Rather than once again stripping him of everything when he inevitably failed. No, he savored the friendship he was allowed. Even if, quietly, his heart still wanted to give Astarion all the beauty his mind could dream of and his hands could weave. 

The food was a meager offering, really, but the wizard was happy to see Astarion shrug and sit down to try it. 

Maybe it wasn’t everything Gale had dreamed of in his books to see a bit of excitement build on the man’s face when he delicately sniffed his offering. He was not worthy of giving a thousand days and nights of little pleasures to anyone, it would seem. But, oh, if his heart didn’t flutter a bit at how Astarion’s eyes widened slightly when he gracefully cut into the steak and a weave-enhanced aroma wafted up. 

Gale had truly grown to enjoy his time spent in friendship with the pale elf. He was a stellar, if not acerbic, conversationalist. And the only other person at camp that enjoyed books beyond bawdy romances. Astarion was a person Gale could imagine being around every day for decades without it ever becoming boring. Well, assuming Gale wouldn’t be left alone because the vampire wandered off to find more interesting company than a stuffy wizard. 

At least for now, sometimes he’d say something clever and elicit a sharp grin. Or he’d make a genuine offer to want to properly introduce Astarion to Tara once this was all over, and something soft would grow on the man’s face before he schooled it away. Hells, even walking around Baldur’s Gate and just commenting on architecture with him made Gale desperate to show Astarion Waterdeep.  

It was clear his dear friend had a taste for the finer things in life, but had been left starved. Gale wanted to lay out a banquet for him, to hear his commentary and innovate until he found satisfaction. It was a beautiful thought for the future, but that was a thing still being written. 

Gale needed to try and take that joy and give it in lump sum, lest the worst happened tomorrow. There were notes in his pack on leads Astarion could begin searching down for help finding a place in the sunlight, that he’d entrust to a messenger soon. A desperate letter to his mother, hoping she would extend the clan’s aid to his dear friend. A few letters of introduction that Gale prayed would be enough to get Astarion a chance to observe rare books at Candlekeep if he so needed.  

In the meantime, Gale had but this moment. Watching Astarion primly take a bite of the filet and chew as if he was a bit out of practice. 

This wasn’t the first time Gale had cooked something special for someone - he had a sophomoric idea of what facial expressions to expect. Like always, Astarion didn’t disappoint though with novelty. There was a strange look on his face; emotions roiling so intensely nothing had a beginning nor end. 

“This is shit,” Astarion eventually hissed. 

Gale offered up open palms, apologetic shoulders, and the broken in, embarrassed smile of a man so used to his reach exceeding his grasp in anything that truly mattered. 

“I’m sorry,” he began. “You don’t have to finish it–” 

Astarion looked him dead in the eye. When he had Gale's full attention, he stabbed the piece of meat like it had been carved from Cazador himself. He brought it to his mouth and bit down. Hard. Hard enough Gale could hear the cutlery screech in protest. 

Astarion was a messy eater- a man of singularly devouring hunger. The blood from the filet trickled down his chin, to his chest, marking him temporarily like Gale’s own source of perverse appetite.

Gale watched him swallow and ruminate. 

“This tastes like goodbye,” the man drawled, eyes pinning Gale to his spot. “I don’t like it.” 

Gale smiled, trying to ignore the first thing and address only the second. 

“Well, sometimes experiments don’t always work out,” he began to affably ramble. “I did believe that a few uses of prestidigitation would help overcome your normally exclusively sanguine diet, but I would still appreciate if you could offer some notes-” 

While Gale had been prattling about cantrips, Astarion had decided to switch from rumination to predation. He had gotten up, head refusing to move as he stalked towards Gale like a cat fixated on a songbird. The vampire pounced, slamming the wizard into the cabinets. All it took was a bold hand wrenching one wrist up above his head and a tongue thrust into his mouth to strip him of his power, his self-image as Gale of Waterdeep. 

Astarion devoured Gale Dekarios’ mouth, eating up the moans his actions elicited.  

After a second or eternity, the poor man wasn’t sure which, Astarion broke away to let Gale pant. 

“I want seconds,” Astarion commanded, his other hand running down a thigh- barely keeping to a space that wouldn’t be scandalous if someone walked in. 

Gale tried to master his fluttering heart, to let it accept air and nourishment so it would stop screaming in his chest almost loud enough that it drowned out the orb. 

“You don’t,” he gasped, licking his lips before trying again. “You said you don’t do seconds.” 

That was one of the first, sharp pieces of truth Astarion had flung at him, after their night of gentle love making had cracked through a mask made to suffer only harsh blows. 

People don’t use me twice, he had lilted in the morning. After he had time to lick the wounds Gale’s gentle praise had inflicted and compose himself back to untouchable beauty. Go find someone you can wake up with a thousand times. 

That was back when Astarion wasn’t sure if he would be free, but Gale was still hopeful a solution was available for his own woes. Now things had changed. 

Gale felt the grip on his wrist tighten. Nails that bit into his skin, fearful that without the contact there would be nothing. It was the touch of a man who had rejected the stolen pleasures of ascending, and now wished to ground himself in freely offered affections. 

“I didn’t want you to die,” Astarion offered quietly as his body screamed in accordance. “But I am realizing now that not dying is second to living.” 

Gale wanted to soothe away the worry on the man's face. To cradle the pressed brow gently and let it entrust all its worries to him. But Astarion held him firm. No matter - Gale always had a clever tongue.

"With the number of threats our group has managed to vanquish in the last tenday alone, I think our odds are very good at succeeding, Astarion."

Astarion laughed, letting go of Gale’s wrist to poke at the site where the orb marked him. “I know this is your back-up plan, Gale. Maybe you’ll blow yourself up if we struggle too much against the Netherbain. Maybe you’ll let Mystra own you to remove it. Or she’ll use it as a threat to bargain against your interest in the Crown. But I am tired of petty tyrants’ wants and demands.” 

“She’s a Goddess, Astarion, it’s not remotely-” Gale tried to interject. 

Astarion didn’t even dignify that with a verbal response. He simply looked at Gale, eyes flickering from where the orb burned him to his own, violently marked neck. Astarion knew what manufactured pain was, appetites unanswered. It was why they spoke so easily, they shared this perverse second language. 

“You deserve a choice too,” Astarion eventually said. 

The first kiss in the kitchen was Astarion’s - passionate and aggressive to hide the tenderness it came from. The second was Gale’s - slow and soft, an adventure that ended with being more daring by the hearth. They weren’t so different. Both had left a man gasping for more, a hand traveling to places to hint at encores. 

Astarion leaned into the way Gale’s fingers gripped his curls, the pad of his thumb ever so slightly brushing against his ear in a way that would barely be considered scandalous if anyone ever came in. 

“What if I wanted to choose a second Mr. Dekarios?” Gale whispered. 

Astarion had a talent for saying one thing, but meaning another. It was intoxicating to Gale. The way he could roll his eyes and bring up a lip in a perfect sneer that to an onlooker signaled disgust embodied, a hint of fang and claws coming out. But oh, if the man wasn’t still tender to the touch- a gentle weight that was as inviting as his words were barbed. A secret laid out only for him to discover.

“Well, you should probably get better at cooking, darling. I have no clue how you plan to catch any self-respecting man in your current situation.” 

His hungry red eyes glanced down to a plate that was empty. 

“I, for one, have standards,” Astarion said softly. 

Gale was a man of great pride. It was tempting to press back, to needle the vampire. Perhaps to bring a thumb to wipe up the blood that was still shining on his neck and watch the man lick it off before calling him on the falsehood. 

But on second thought, Gale also desperately needed to close his eyes and believe in the magic of being allowed this close again. He leaned his brow to Astarion’s to give a kiss to the naked skin he found. Not to soothe away the way the vampire had his eyebrows furrowed in concern of being seen. But as a promise he loved this too and wanted it just as much as every other part of him. 

“I look forward to learning about every single one, no matter how small or obscure,” he promised. “I will ascribe them upon my heart, and treasure each word as a gift.” 

Astarion looked at him, searching for the lie. Gale was granted the privilege of watching his eyes grow soft with the knowledge that the wizard was as sincere as he was loquacious.

Then, he had the thrill of watching a vampire who had recently declared he wanted to start living realize he was ravenous.

And that Gale was the perfect second course for this evening and many more to come. 

︶꒦꒷❤︎꒷꒦︶

Author Notes: Thank you for reading this! As always, I would like to remind you thirsty folks to hydrate a bit if needed. Although I suppose for this fic, maybe encouraging you to get a snack would be more appropriate! 

Please let me know if you enjoyed the pun in the tags. :P 

Hopefully this is the start of a solid writing month for me. I'm going to be aiming to put out something each Monday.

[911-prideweek]

We are super excited to release our prompts for the upcoming 9-1-1 Pride Week 2024!

Our prompts have been inspired by a mix of a 'classic' queer prompt or song plus a memorable quote from a character.

Feel free to use either or both prompts for your creation(s) and keep in mind that you do not need to use that exact lyric or quote in your work, it can be inspiration or a vibe as well!

Our overarching theme for the week is: "The bravest thing you can be is yourself".

Prompts will be listed in plain text below along with rules under the cut. Please send any questions or requests for clarification in our asks box!

Rules:

No hate or ship bashing - we’re all different and we all love different things.

Tag correctly! Trigger warnings, ships, ratings, (pure) smut, etc - it’s all fine as long as you tag it.

Create what you like, nothing is too small or too big, and every medium is allowed.

This event can be combined with other events as long as the other event allows it.

We will be creating a collection on A03 (details to follow closer to event timing).

Please tag the blog @911-prideweek or #911prideweek2024 so that we can find your creation to reblog!

Prompts:

Day 1: Song lyric - "I wanna dance with somebody" || "I'll remember enough for the both of us."

Day 2: Coming out to a sibling and/or ride and die || "You know, it's like that thing when you meet somebody, and you just click."

Day 3: Gender euphoria || "Every night that I get to spend with you is a night worth celebrating."

Day 4: Song lyric - "Hallelujah it's raining _" || "You are the dream I would not allow myself to have."

Day 5: Unexpected support || "It's amazing what can happen when a family never stops fighting for each other."

Day 6: Pride colours || "I see you, and I couldn't be more proud."

Day 7: Song lyric - "I kissed a _ and I liked it" || "There are lots of ways to be lost at sea."

[magpiefngrl]

20 Questions for Writers

Thank you for the tag @hoko-onchi-writes! Great way to spend a lazy Sunday morning :)

Username: magpie_fngrl

1. How many works do you have on A03? 54

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 392,045

3. What fandoms do you write for? I've mostly written drarry. I'd started as a pynch writer (TRC) and lately I've written a bunch in other fandoms.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? all drarry:

dirtynumbangelboy

The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy

The Full Monty

Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There,

9 ½ Days

5. Do you respond to comments? I do my best. I made a decision back when I posted a lot of stuff and got more comments than I could handle that I would only reply to the comments on the last chapter of a multi-chapter fic. Other than that, I try my best to reply to everyone.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I wrote a Major Character Death fic (The Death You Carry). Can't get angstier than that.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of my fics end happy, but now that I think of it they're mostly HFN in romance-genre speak. Happy For Now aka the fic ends with them as a couple, kissing or touching for example, the Ever After is implied but not explicit. Two fics which end with H/D living together, and thus more committed to each other, are Hush, darling and The Boy Who Died. These are also angstier than my other fics, which makes the happy ending sweeter imo.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not hate per se. I've received demanding comments ("Can you write more? Another sex scene? And make it mpreg?") or comments like "I like your story but I can't read on because you have X topping". Not hate. There was a time, though, that I got several comments about how stupid/annoying/an arsehole Harry is, which reflect an attitude I used to see in fandom, where Draco is perfect and Harry is a bumbling fool and the minute he says something sharp to Draco he becomes an arsehole and should be screamed at. Needless to say, I hate this kind of interpretation. I deleted a couple of these comments, I just couldn't have them on my page. It was the reason I de-activated comments on all my fics for some time.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? The sexy kind, I hope LOL

Serious answer: I have written explicit sex scenes, although I tend to be more vague rather than write a play-by-play description of what is happening. I mean, there is some of that, but not as detailed as it can be. I don't know how to explain it better in English, sorry. Anyhow, I love sex scenes, I love reading them, I enjoy the challenge of writing them, and I think what I like best in what I read (and thus I try to emulate) is when a sex scene reveals the emotional state of these two people rather than just say whose dick does what.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I haven't! A couple of years ago I got a few asks about wangxian and drarry meeting up and although it was fun to reply to the asks and imagine how it would take place, I don't think I'll ever write it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Someone screenshot dnab and posted it on instagram. The whole 40k fic. If there have been others, I don't know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, a few.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I haven't and I'm not sure I could. I don't think my writing process would lead to successful collaborations. If I were to imagine it, the easiest for me would be that each writer has their own POV (I'd write Draco, the other person Harry, for instance) and we'd have a general idea but not a strict outline and we'd write it like a relay race: I'd post something, they'd write the next part, then me etc.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? I tend to move on from fandoms, so it used to be pynch, then drarry, now wangxian. I don't have a lot of time for fandom these days so I'm not as obsessed with a ship as I used to be. I love all my babies equally.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I started a fic with a magical university of sorts, or rather 8th year but they'd be more like uni students than normal school students, and Draco was a Veela whose mate was Astoria. Not sure where it would all go, but well--it won't go anywhere now, because I have so many other WIPs that take precedent.

16. What are your writing strengths? I'm decent at dialogue and I've been told my fics have great atmosphere. Occasionally I write an unusual turn of phrase and people comment on that. My fics are fairly short, but I've been told that they have a lot more story than the reader expected because of the word count, and I think that's because I edit ruthlessly.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Plotting is my main problem. I pants my stories and it takes me forever to figure out what happens next. I also lack confidence and doubt everything while writing, which isn't a writing weakness exactly, but it does affect my writing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? It's cool. I like it.

19. First fandom you wrote for? The Raven Cycle. I was mad about pynch.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Currently 9 ½ Days but I have a very, very soft spot for The Boy Who Died.

Tagging: @lettersbyelise @lucifergraced @coriesocks @wolfpants @julcheninred @nerdherderette @lqtraintracks if they wanna!

[nerdieforpedro]

Wednesday WIP

It's hump day people! So that means it's time to find out what everyone is working on! 😎 As for your girl Nerdie, I have a few things in the works: two Dieter fics, two Marcus Pike fics, and Dave/Santi.

@iamasaddie Popped out a dark Valentine's Day prompt and past Nerdie said sure! Thus we're going to have a different version of Marcus Pike. (Not “Daddy” I made a slight edit to the prompt). He might be a bit manipulative, but it's for your benefit. Not odd at all. It's still in bullet points and some of them may change I gave @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin a preview so have to ask her if it makes any sense. 😄 (The above gif is how I picture this Marcus. Like he looks so sweet, but sir, SIR! But also we're okay with it, maybe.)

@magpiepills gave me an excellent idea for meeting Marcus Pike at a motel based off a Tag game we did a week or two ago. I've thought of three parts for the thing. I just gotta write it. That will be the Marcus fluff we know and love. 💕

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine Sweetly asked if there was an update on my chapter Dieter series "Weddings 101 with Dieter." I am working on chapter 4, I just have to work out the details. The devil is there and he is mocking me. 😈 The Horny Delegation's High Chancellor has high expectations. Maybe I should have written it a little worse. 🤗

Dave/Santi have their bullet points mostly. I did start on them. Maybe February @for-a-longlongtime It needs a lot more meat, lube, cargo pants and zip ties. There may be a preview of that next week along with some Santiago smut. The Santi x reader smut will be @rhoorl (she started it with her ask) and @legendary-pink-dot fault who sent me one journalist's investigative piece on Oscar's Dune beard. 🤣 I also blame Pinterest. You search “Oscar Isaac beard” one time. Sheesh. 😒

I finished my addition to the PMAMC 2024 challenge organized by the talented @wannab-urs and, well, it's done and out there. 👀 Read the other ones and come back to mine, if you think about it. This week is everyone is posting so there will be a masterlist up later with everyone who participated.

I'll end with a small preview of my Dieter Brovo one-shot:

God he needs to feel you, the pocket pussy he has is alright but he needs your full weight on him. You mewling at him, giving him silent direction as he tries to make you vocalize more. Dieter’s aware he’s often loud enough for the both of you and he finds that hearing the few moans that you will give him, fill him with a sense of accomplishment. He remembered that you’d told him that it was difficult to climax sometimes and actually you’ve reached your peak so much more often with him than other partners, because he cared to find out where your spots are, what makes you feel good. Your hushed noises weren’t an indication that he wasn’t doing well, you just weren't used to making sounds during sex. Since the two of you met at a club where you had misplaced your shoes and Dieter let you borrow his crocs, you’d been seeing each other when you could. It was one of the few stable relationships Dieter had outside of his business team.

So that’s all I have this week. 🤗 See you next week!

No pressure tags: @fhatbhabie @trulybetty @morallyinept @maggiemayhemnj @pedroshotwifey @megamindsecretlair @i-own-loki @secretelephanttattoo @goodwithcheese @ladybess-a03 @laurfilijames @musings-of-a-rose @undercoverpena @avastrasposts @chronically-ghosted @gwendibleywrites

[mycupofrum]

20 Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰɪᴄ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀꜱ

Thanks for the tag @fiendishfyre 💙💙

Ao3 Username: mycupofrum

1. How many works do you have on A03?

All in all 43 fics (24 in English and 19 in Finnish).

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

149k

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Harry Potter. (I've written one Obikin fic for Star Wars but haven’t posted it in English.)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Bathe with me (Prongsfoot, E, 4k)

A lesson in love (Prongsfoot, M, 6k)

What are best friends for (Prongsfoot, E, 2k)

Practice makes perfect (Prongsfoot, E, 4k)

The art of seduction (Prongsfoot, T, 798)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes. I try to respond within a few days but sometimes it takes a longer while. Still, I always read and appreciate them!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t usually write angsty endings but Guilt has one and Darkness has some unhinged tones to it. :D

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them have happy endings.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

None so far, which is lucky.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yeah. It's pretty basic sex, no major kinks there. xD I focus on building tension between the characters because I think that's hot.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope, nothing so far.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not by anyone else. I'd be so happy if that ever happened! I translate my own fics though.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! Years ago I co-wrote some crack fics. They're not available anywhere anymore. xD

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Prongsfoot! ❤️ They've been living rent free in my mind for a very long time.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I haven’t posted any WIPs so we'll see which ones I can finish and post and which will stay hidden in the folder.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Maybe dialogue. And humour? I tend to add it in the story without meaning to (I don't know if that's a strength or not).

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The longer the fic, the more scattered my brain gets in remembering details and making the story work.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'm all for it if it makes sense for the story.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Specialised in you (Prongsfoot, E, 11k)

I like how it turned out to be more than I intended with some smut, angst, action, drama, hurt/comfort...you name it. Also it was a bit experimental for me with James polyjuiced into a woman for a short while. I loved writing f/m and m/m Prongsfoot in the same fic!

Tagging @cassiaratheslytherpuff @gracelesslady23 @forestdeath1 @heartofspells @in-flvx and anyone who wants to do this!

[missrosegold]

I've got a blood trail red in the blue

Synopsis: Vampire!AU You moved to the quiet, costal town to escape from your ex, only to find yourself entangled with a man with fiery blue eyes, and a grin that’s slightly too sharp.

He may or may not be an immortal gang leader to a bunch of other blood-sucking degenerates, but you’ll worry about that later.

Word count: 20k

Pairing: Dabi x Reader (fem!reader)

Warnings: Mentions of murder, Blood and gore, Smut, Mentioned past toxic relationships, Smoking, Smut and additional warnings listed below so Minors or Ageless blogs please DNI. This is rated 18+

Playlist: Take Me To The Sun - D4VD + The Summoning (the ending. if you know, you know) - Sleep Token

For @kimkaelyn Thank you for all of the encouragement you’ve shown me when I needed it most – this one’s for you. Also, thank you for making this beautiful banner for me!! It looks so good!!

Title is from The Summoning by Sleep Token

Inspired by The Lost boys

Happy Birthday Dabi - I'm so pleased I was able to finish this for his birthday. He deserves all good things.

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

Tagging: @vambirezz @dabisqueen @little-red-insomniac @sunaraii @touyasprettydoll @touyas-back-lover @cloudsz04 @faetheral @impulsivethoughtsat2am @whitemochabunnie

You sigh loudly as you move the last box of your things into your new bedroom.

Dusting off your hands, you stand up and look around the small room, giving it an approving once over, before heading out into the living room to continue putting the rest of your things away in your new apartment.

Opting to take a quick break, you crack open the sliding glass doors leading out onto your small patio and step outside into the evening air. Closing your eyes, you breathe in the balmy, salt laced air, as a cool breeze combs through your hair, sending pleasant chills down your spine. You stay like that for a moment, before the sound of seagulls cawing overhead draws your attention to the surrounding view.

The sight of the small costal town spread out before your balcony greets you, as you look outward. You’d just moved to the town of Ashikita a few days ago, leaving your life in the busy city of Tokyo behind you. You scowl even thinking about the place.

You’d loved your life in Tokyo. It was the person you shared your life with there you’d hated.

You purse your lips as your thoughts trail back to your ex-boyfriend, despite your best efforts. He was the sole reason you’d moved all the way out to this small town in the first place. Your relationship had been on a downwards spiral for a while, and had gradually become unhealthier the longer you’d stayed with him. He had become progressively more controlling and manipulative whenever you’d tried to leave your shared apartment for anything else aside for work, and his behavior had only become worse by the day.

Eventually, things came to a boiling point when he decided to try and lock you in the bathroom when you’d told him that you were going out to see a friend, and that had been your breaking point. You had packed your things up when he’d left to go to work, and that had been that. You had taken up residence at your parent’s place for a few months while you’d searched for a new apartment and a new job, far away from your ex’s grasp, all the while dodging his incessant calling, before blocking him all together.

You had settled in Ashikita, a small costal town in Kyushu, known for its attractive beaches and coastlines. It was also quiet during the off season, deeming it the perfect place for someone who was trying to escape from the city.

Perfect for someone who didn’t wish to be found.

You allow your gaze to sweep through the sights spread out below your balcony. Your apartment was located near the coastline, and had a nice view of the nearby beach and wooden boardwalk that wrapped around it, much to your inner delight. The twinkling of lights from the few carnival rides you can see on the old wooden platform catches your attention, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you recall old childhood memories of when your parents used to take you to the small country fair that used to come by your hometown in the summer.

You sigh as the multicolored lights gradually become brighter as the sun slowly sinks behind the watery horizon in the distance. Glancing back into your dark apartment, you decided to go down to check out the boardwalk after night falls – not wanting to spend more time in your lonely apartment then necessary.

You slowly slink back inside, and force yourself to continue to unpacking as the outside becomes darker. Once your apartment looks somewhat like your own space, you quickly change into something a little warmer to explore the boardwalk, before making your way out of your apartment.

The boardwalk, as you discover, is only a ten-minute walk away from your building, and you use the time to lightly explore the surrounding area as you make your way towards the beach. The distant crashing of the ocean waves against the shore makes your heart pound excitedly in your chest, and the sounds of the boardwalk rides echoes through the air around you, only adding to your growing excitement.

You make your way onto the old wooden boardwalk and look around at the rides and other various vendors set up on both sides of the platform. You slowly make your way around the brightly lit area with the crowds of other people taking in the sights and sounds like you, before a gentle musical chime accompanied by soft twinkling lights in the coroner of your eye catches your attention.

Turning to your left, you gasp in delight as you find yourself looking at a vintage merry go round. It’s old, older than you by probably several decades, but it’s no less charming than it would’ve been when it was brand new. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been on one, and before you can think about what you’re doing, you’re in the short line to buy a ticket.

The teen running the ride looks entirely uninterested as he takes your money before passing you a ticket and waving you on. You slowly make your way around the merry go round, taking in all of the old wooden animals – most of their paint old and dull – before settling on a sleek black horse wearing a blue saddle and bridle.

Not long after choosing your mount, the voice of the teen operating the ride crackles to life over the loud speaker and announces the ride was starting, before the squealing of gears and the hum of hidden electronics signals the start of the ride. You grip the pole as your horse slowly moves up and down, giggling in spite of yourself.

The world spins around you slowly and you lose yourself in the tinny sounds of music blaring out of the ancient speakers scattered around the ride. As you glance out at the boardwalk outside of the merry go round, something catches your attention.

No, not something, someone.

You catch a fleeting glimpse of a tall man dressed in various shades of dark blue and black, standing just outside of the fence blocking off the ride. You have to wait for the ride to do another full circle before you see him again, this time in clearer detail.

He’s standing still as a statue, allowing you to get a better look at him as you come around once again. He’s imposing looking, with his dark attire, save for a white shirt draped loosely around his gangly frame. He’s wearing a long dark blue duster and stitched pants, tucked into black combat boots – a strange choice of clothing considering the warm weather. He’s tall and lean, but you can tell he’s well-built underneath the loose clothes he wears; but his unique choice of clothing isn’t what draws your attention to him.

He is without a doubt, one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen.

His spiky black hair is as dark as night, and his skin is pale and flawless, drawing attention to his high cheekbones but you notice a slight roundness to his cheeks, giving a gentle softness to his otherwise edgy features.

As you pass him once more, you lock eyes with the intriguing stranger and your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes are as blue as the surrounding ocean. You don’t think you’ve ever seen any one with eyes that particular shade of blue before.

As you slowly pass him again, he smirks at you, and you feel your heart flutter in your chest involuntarily.

The crackling sounds from the old loudspeakers snap you out of your trance as the teen from before announces the ride was over, and to leave at the nearest exit point. You slide off your horse and make your way to the exit, speed walking back to where you first saw the dark-haired man, only to find he’d seemingly vanished.

You look around the area, confused as to how he could’ve disappeared so fast, only to hear deep laughter echoing a little further down the boardwalk. You turn in the direction of the laughter, only to see the dark-haired man standing in the middle of a group of four other men.

They’re an interesting looking group if you’ve ever seen one: a silvery, white-haired man with vibrant red eyes is standing next to your handsome stranger, snickering at something he said, drawing your attention to the odd amount of scarring under his eyes and around his mouth. Beside him, a man with what you can only assume is box-dyed pink hair, dressed in a black hoodie is leaning slightly on him, listening intently to what he’s saying. On the other side of the ravenette; a taller, slightly older looking blonde-haired man with a long scar running down his forehead, is smoking a cigarette, and beside him, a well-dressed brunette who looked to be about the same age as his scarred companion, is fixing his tie, smiling and nodding with whatever was being discussed.

You smile to yourself as you take in the group. As much as you would’ve liked to talk to the dark-haired man, you didn’t want to interrupt his time with his friends. You turn around, ready to make your leave, only to feel a sudden weight draped around your shoulders. Startled, you whirl around only to find yourself staring up into the deep blue eyes of handsome stranger from before.

Now that he’s up close and personal, you find yourself unable to look away from the unique blue of his eyes. There’s something about them that has you completely entranced, and suddenly, the rest of your surroundings seem to fade away until it’s just you and him. You’re stuck in his orbit and he’s pulling you in simply by looking at you, pinning you in place where you stand. The stranger suddenly blinks, and just like that; he releases you from whatever hold he had you in, abruptly snapping you back to reality.

You don’t even have time to wonder how the hell he was able to catch up to you so fast, before you feel your throat dry up and close up involuntarily as he shoots you a dark smirk.

“’Sup sweetheart?”

His deep voice startles you. It’s smooth, with a slight rasp to it, sounding like he’d smoked recently. He’s warm as well – it’s almost shocking how hot he is, as you feel the heat from his body leaching into your side through the barrier your clothes provide.

You struggle to come up with a response to his greeting, and you can tell by the way his grin grows slightly, he enjoys the effect he has on you. He squeezes your shoulders again, almost teasingly.

“What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re getting all shy on me now? I saw you checking me out on the merry go round. Thought you wanted to say hello.”

“You saw that?” you ask before you can stop yourself, fighting to keep the flush you feel creeping up your neck under control, as the man throws his head back and laughs, allowing you to catch sight of clean white teeth that seemed slightly sharper than the average person’s.

“Yeah, I saw. Gotta say, I’m flattered. Haven’t seen a cute thing like you around here for a while. You new here?”

“I… Yeah.” You finally manage to sputter out, “I just moved here.” causing him to grin again.

“Yeah? Where are you from?”

“Tokyo. I got a new job down here. It’s a lot different than the city. Nice though.”

The dark-haired man nodded. “I bet. Why did you move here? This isn’t exactly a major city. I’m surprised you’d want to come here of all places.”

You freeze. Memories of your ex come flooding back, and you chew on your lip as you struggle to figure out what to tell the handsome man. You didn’t want to divulge your shitty dating history to a total stranger, when you yourself were trying to move on. Thankfully, the longer you remain silent, the more the grin seemed to slide off his lips, seemingly understanding what you were thinking, without you having to say a word.

“Someone there made you want to leave?”

You nod soundlessly, causing the man to kiss the back of his teeth.

“Well, that’s a shame. Dunno who the jackass is who made you feel the need to come to a remote shithole like this, but fuck ‘em.”

His brunt comment makes you snort in spite of yourself. You turn in his hold so you’re facing him more directly, offering him a half smile. “I don’t even know your name. What is it?”

The man grins salaciously at you as he stoops down to your level. “Dabi. And you, gorgeous?”

You know there’s not a chance in hell that’s his real name, but you decide not to press him on it. Maybe you’ll ask him about it later, if you ever run into him again.

You tell him your name, and he straightens back up, rolling your name off his tongue, causing you to flush gently under the intensity of his piercing blue gaze, He jerks his thumb back at the group of young men behind him. “The guys and I were just hanging around the boardwalk. Wanna walk with me pretty girl?”

You look over his shoulder to see the other four men staring you down intently. There something about the way they’re looking at you that makes you uneasy, but you can’t place what about it makes you uncomfortable. Instead, you smile up at him and shake your head.

“That’s okay, I don’t want to interrupt your time with your friends. I just wanted to explore a little bit. I’m still unpacking my apartment, so I should probably get back to doing that.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding.” Dabi sends you another grin, teeth glinting like knives in the carnival lights. “I’m sure you’d be better company then those jokers always.”

“I’m good.” You tell him, gently removing his arm from around your shoulders, watching as his smirk falls slightly at your gesture. “Maybe next time, if you’re around.”

“My boys and I live close to the area. I’m sure we’ll meet up at some point.” Dabi takes a step back from you, shoving his hands into his pockets, and sends you another smoldering grin that makes your heart speed up to dangerous levels.

“See you later sweetheart.”

“Bye.” You tell him with a timid wave, watching as he sends you a knowing wink, before turning on his heel and making his way back to his friends, who are already at his throat.

“What the hell was that, Dabi? Thought you were going to bring her back for sure.”

“Dude, I can’t believe you didn’t take her out. You always manage to pull—”

“Shut the hell up you psychos.”

Your roll your eyes as at their conversation as you shift your purse on your shoulder and walk in the opposite direction, away from the interesting group and back towards your apartment. The sound of the roaring ocean overtakes the sounds of the boardwalk as you make the trek back to your apartment alone.

You wake up the next morning to the sound of your phone alarm going off.

You get up with a groan, and slowly begin your morning routine. You shuffle around your apartment as you get ready to start your new office job. You pack your lunch with what meager items you have in your fridge, before heading downstairs to where your car is parked. Hopping in, you quickly plug the coordinates into your car’s nav system, and make the twenty-minute drive to your new office.

 It’s small building, and your job is an entrée level position, but it pays decently well and is still more than enough to cover your living expenses – it’s part of the reason you took the job in the first place, since you’ll have to pay the entirety of your rent by yourself now.

Still, you’d much rather struggle by yourself then crawl back to your ex.

You day is uneventful, and you spend the majority of your day filling out new employee paperwork and getting to know the rest of your new colleagues. They’re nice and seemingly keep mostly to themselves, something you’re not used to after working in Tokyo for the last several years.

Still though, you can’t complain. Honestly, you think it might be good to keep your head down for a while as you get settled in. There’d be plenty of time to get to know the rest of your new coworkers later.

Your day passes quickly, and before you know it, you’re pulling into your parking space at your apartment building. Soon enough, you find yourself shutting the door to your apartment with a sigh as you kick your shoes off, before heading into your bedroom to change out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable.

As you make your way back out into your small living room, you’re hit with how bland your new apartment looks in comparison to your old one, and suddenly you don’t want to be in your tiny apartment. You glance out the living room window that’s pointed towards the beach and you know where you want to go.

Grabbing your keys, you find yourself making the short walk to the beach as the sun sinks lower in the sky, casting golden reflections on the water’s choppy service. You spend an hour on the beach, relaxing and breathing in the salty air, before getting up and making your way over to the boardwalk where several food vendors are setting up.

After paying for some cotton candy, you walk around the darkening boardwalk, nibbling mindlessly on your food as you explore several areas you hadn’t been able to look at the night before. As the numerous strings of fairy lights decorating the rides gradually get brighter as the sky grows darker, you decide you head back to your apartment before it get’s too late.

Before you can turn around to make your way back to your home, you feel a presence behind you and a sudden heat washes over you.

“Didn’t expect to see you back here so soon sweetheart.”

You whirl around at the familiar voice, only to see the dark-haired man from the night before standing behind you with a sharp grin. You note he’s wearing the same clothes from the night before, but he’s switched out his long duster for a shorter leather jacket with a ripped collar, adding to his intrigue.

“Oh hey! Dabi, right?” you ask him, prompting him to nod with a wicked smirk.

“Sounds nice, coming from you.”

You roll your eyes at his flirtatious comment, instead asking what you wanted to ask him last night. “That’s not your real name, is it?”

Dabi’s smirk only grows wider at your question, his bright blue eyes seemingly growing brighter. “No.”

“You ever going to tell me what it is?”

The dark-haired man clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Maybe later, if you stick around long enough.”

You shrug, not seeing any point in pushing it further. “Do you live around here?”

Dabi nods after a moment. “Yeah, I rent a place near here with a few guys. They’re tolerable.”

“Oh, your friends from last night?” you ask, thinking back to the group of men with him last night. You can’t help but grin as the man’s handsome face twists into a grimace at your comment.

“Wouldn’t go as far as to call them my friends, but we’ll go with that.” His dry response causes you to laugh.

“So, you’re more of a lone wolf, huh?”

Dabi snorts, the hint of a smile gracing his lips. “Absolutely. Up until those idiots wormed their way into my life years ago, I was fine with being on my own.”

You laugh at his comment before asking: “Have you lived here long?”

At your question, Dabi seems to pause. You watch as he chews on his bottom lip before carefully responding.

“I’ve been here a while, yeah.”

You nod, “Well, it seems nice here from what I’ve seen so far. It’s a lot different from Tokyo, but in a good way, I think.”

Dabi snorts, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks away from you. “If you’re saying that, then you clearly don’t know what actually goes on around here.”

You frown at his cryptic reply, not sure how to feel about what he’s telling you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dabi only gestures for you to follow him, and you do without much resistance. He ends up taking you further down the boardwalk to a spot you hadn’t yet been to, and stops in front of a large bulletin board plastered with several layers of white filers.

He taps the board. “Welcome to the missing person’s capitol of Japan.” He tells you flatly, allowing you to get a closer look at the papers rustling in the breeze. 

You feel your heart sink into your stomach as you take in the layers upon layers of printed paper faces and their basic information printed out under them. From what you can see, some of the missing person fliers are months old, and others are as recent as a week ago. The missing people seem to be of every age and ethnicity, but the number of people plastered on the bulletin board is shocking.  

You turn to Dabi, flabbergasted. “What the hell is this?”

Dabi shrugs nonchalantly. “An open secret.”

“I checked out the area before I moved here. All the websites I looked at painted this place as quiet and safe. I never saw anything like this.” You protested, causing the dark-haired man to nod.

“That’s because the authorities do whatever they can to cover it up. This has been going on for a long time. Years, honestly. These are the most recent ones.”

“The most recent?!”

“Like I said, years, babe. Didn’t you ever wonder why the rent around here was so cheap?”

“I—well, I mean, yeah, but—” You run a hand through your hair nervously. “I came here to escape from the chaos – not get involved in a different kind.”

Dabi pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and puts one in his mouth, but doesn’t light it, instead opting to nudge your shoulder gently. “You’ll be fine during the day. No one’s going to steal you away sweetheart. It’s night time you have to be worried about. Just keep your head down and don’t go looking for trouble, you’ll be fine.”

You hum in response, but you must not look very convinced, because he sighs around his cigarette, taking it out of his mouth and flicking it into a nearby trashcan. “Tell you what; how about I walk you back to your building. Will that make you feel better?”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you—”

“You’re not.” Dabi interrupts you as he brushes past you gently, his abnormally warm fingers ghost the skin of your arm as he passes you. “Come on. I’ll take you back home. Can’t have someone snatching you away now, can we?”

He winks at you, laughing lightly as your face flushes against your will, yet you find yourself tailing after him, leading him back to your apartment. Normally you’d be very against allowing a near perfect stranger to know where you live, but the news of the missing people has shaken you more then you’d like to admit, and right now having some extra company doesn’t seem like a bad idea.

You walk slowly back to your apartment side by side with him, and in that time, you end up talking about anything and everything. Conversation seems to come naturally with him, and your guard slowly drops. The more you talk to him, the more he seems to loosen up in turn, though he keeps a polite distance when you try and find out more about him, instead, re-directing the conversation back to you.

“So, you never told me why you left Tokyo.” he drawls, heavily lidded eyes finding your own. “This isn’t exactly near there. I’m just trying to understand why you’d wanna leave your family behind to come here. You don’t strike me as the type who likes being alone for long periods of time.”

You stop short and mull over his question in your head. As much as you didn’t want to get into it, the raven-haired man was the closest thing you had to a friend here, and if you continued talking to him as you were, the question was bound to come up eventually. Instead, you exhale loudly through your nose before answering.

“Your original guess wasn’t far off.” You admit quietly, watching as his dark brows rise slightly at your subdued response.

You elaborate. “I left Tokyo to escape from my ex. The relationship had been bad for a while, and I should’ve left sooner then I did, but it was really hard. He was so possessive at the end, I felt like I was suffocating. It never got physical between us, but it probably would’ve if I stayed longer.”

You look up at your companion, only to see that his normally bright eyes are dark, and there’s a prominent tick in his jaw that hadn’t been there earlier. Dabi catches you staring at him, and sighs.

“Does he know where you are?” You shake your head.

“Not that I know of. I didn’t tell many people I was moving here aside from my parents. Most of my friends know I moved, but don’t know where to. I wanted to keep it quiet since he’s still trying to find ways to contact me. I don’t want him knowing where I am.”

Dabi hums in agreement as you approach your building. “So, you don’t have any friends out here, huh?”

You shake your head as you approach the main entrance. “I’m all by myself.”

You both stop a few feet from the door, and to your surprise (and relief), Dabi makes no move to invite himself in. You were worried he’d insist on walking you to your actual apartment, and as handsome as he was; you weren’t sure you wanted him knowing what apartment was yours… yet.

You’re just about to bid him goodnight before he suddenly speaks up, catching you off guard.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“No plans as far as I know. Just working during the day. I should be free past six. Why?” You sputter, not expecting him to ask.

Dabi shrugs, sending you a relaxed grin, and once again you note how his teeth are oddly sharp. “It’s Friday night. If you’re not busy and you want to make some new friends, the guys I room with are having a night in. If you want to join, you can. Our place isn’t far from here.”

You’re slightly shocked at his offer. He doesn’t seem like the type who enjoys more people hanging around him then necessary, but then again, you’ve been wrong about people before, and now that he’s offered, he’s right: you don’t have any friends out here, and you are becoming lonely. Maybe meeting some new people wouldn’t be a terrible thing.

Before you can think about it any longer, you hear yourself agreeing. “Sure, that sounds great.”

Dabi smirks at you, broadcasting his pearly canines. “Excellent. I’ll let them know you’re coming. I’ll come pick you up back here when the sun drops. My place is about twenty minutes by car.”

You nod with a small smile. “That sounds good. Thanks again for walking me back Dabi.”

He only waves you off. “It’s nothing, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, bye.” You tell him as you open the door to your building, watching as he shoves his hands back into his jacket pockets and heads back in the direction of the boardwalk without another word. You watch him leave until he’s all but swallowed up by the surrounding darkness, before smiling to yourself and heading inside.

Dabi sinks his fangs into the man’s neck faster than he can scream for help. He holds him locked in a death embrace until the man’s frantic thrashing grows weaker, before completely stilling as his body grows limp in his hold.

It’s only when the man’s colour pallet has gone a deathly white does Dabi finally release his grip on the man, letting him collapse onto the sandy ground underneath the boardwalk. He wipes his bloodied mouth on the back of his sleeve with a grimace as he stares down at his victim.

Sour. Too sour for his liking. Clearly the man wasn’t in the best health before he got his hands on him, but beggers couldn’t be choosers, and he was hungry.

That’s the biggest downside to being what he is: the insatiable thirst for blood couldn’t be ignored for long. He would know. He’s tried to fight against his unsavory appetite in the past, but the end results are always the same, and he not about to starve just so a few lost souls could be spared. He’s no saint – in fact, he’s damn near the opposite of one.

Vampire.

The title is branded into him, even if only he can see it. He has to feed regularly in order to keep his more monstrous tendencies at bay, but he can go a few days without a meal. Any longer than that, and the real him becomes visible to all. The last thing he needs is anyone finding out what he really is.

Dabi feels his fangs slowly retract into his gums as he cooly observes his latest kill. It wasn’t anything personal, he didn’t even know the guy’s name. Just like the rest of his victims, he prefers not to know anything about them – it makes draining their blood harder later on. The body laying before him was just some random man he’d seen wandering the boardwalk by himself half drunk, making him an ideal target. It was all too easy to lure the man to a more secluded spot before jumping him, but he’s had years of practice perfecting his craft. He’s done it so many times he doesn’t feel much of anything anymore.

The missing person board can confirm that much.

Once he’s certain most of the evidence has been cleaned from his face, he snaps his fingers, and the corpse before him suddenly bursts into bright blue flames – consuming the unnamed man until there’s nothing left of him except for a pile of blackened ash, and the horrid smell of burnt meat. 

Dabi sighs as he turns away from the remains and slowly trudges out from the wooden underbelly of the boardwalk above him, kicking at sand carelessly as his thoughts drift back to you.

You smell so good. Your blood practically sings to him. Walking you back to your apartment had been a challenge to him, as he had to fight every urge screaming at him to whisk you away and drain you dry, just like he’s planned to when he’d first laid eyes on you. But the more he talked to you, and the more you’d let him in on certain parts of your life, the less he wanted to do so.

You were… different. You stuck out from the other humans he’s forced to be around. You were sweet, if a bit withdrawn, but it added to your appeal. Your personality was refreshing, and it made him want to keep you around, and figure out just who you really are.

It helped that he found you to be rather… pretty, to say the least.

He wouldn’t bother trying to deny you were a good-looking girl. He’d seen the way you’d looked at him on the merry go round, and if that meant anything, then you found him to be just as attractive.

Well… at least you found his current face to be handsome. He’s not sure how you’d react to his real face, but he’d cross that bridge if and when he came to it.

He feels the corners of his lips upturn at the thought. Now the real test would be if you could handle him and his boys.

The next day is uneventful. You continue your training at the office, and slowly get to know some your co-workers past a first name basis. You finish up your work load at the end of the day and bid your co-workers good-bye, before making your way back home.

The sun is just starting to dip down in the sky by the time you get back into your apartment. You toss your keys onto your tiny kitchen table, taking a seat and scrolling through your phone mindlessly.

You respond to a few texts from your friends who know where you moved to, letting them know that you’re doing okay, and how you were going to meet with some of the locals later, before one of your friends texts out something that sends a chill down your spine.

Your ex had reached out to them asking them where you went.

Your friend assures you they didn’t tell him anything before you can ask, but you still feel a heavy weight building in your stomach. You end up putting your phone down after promising you’ll text them later, before getting up and moving into the living room, breathing heavily as you fight to control your nerves.

The sun has just sunk behind the horizon as you peer out your window, only to balk as you see a sleek black car parked beside yours in the parking lot, and a familiar man lounging on the hood, smoking a cigarette.

You swear to yourself as you grab your room key and bolt out of your apartment and down the staircase to the main floor. You make your way out into the parking lot, waving at the dark-haired man, who straightens up upon seeing you.

“Hey.” Dabi rasps, tossing down his cigarette and stomping it out.

“Hi.” You tell him with a slight smile. “I didn’t expect you to come by so soon.”

“I told you when the sun sinks.” The blue-eyed man retorts, but there’s no venom behind it. “You ready?”

“Let me get changed first.” You tell him, gesturing down to your work clothes. “You can come in and wait in my apartment if you want. I’d feel bad if I left you out here.”

Dabi looks hesitant at first, but he nods and follows you stiffly towards the entrance of your building. You wave him through, and he passes you with a slightly uncomfortable look on his face, before following you up the stairs to your front door. You open it and step in, expecting him to follow you, but he doesn’t. You shoot him a questioning look, and he cocks an eyebrow at you, giving you a tiny smirk.

“Gonna invite me in doll?”

“Oh, sorry, you can come in.” You laugh, and that seems to be the invitation he was waiting for, since he glides through your doorframe easily, shutting it behind him.

You can’t help by notice how glaringly out of place he seems in your minimalist apartment. He sticks out against the light colours like a sore thumb, and you have to bite back a giggle as you watch him take a seat on your small living room couch.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” you ask him as you make your way towards your room. Dabi only shakes his head as he leans back into your sofa.

“I’m good doll, thanks.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in just a second.” You tell him as you dip into your room, shutting your door behind you. You quickly throw on some casual but nice clothes and run a brush through your hair in an attempt to rid yourself of the tangles. You don’t know what kind of night you were in for with a bunch of men who looked to be in various stages of their twenties and early thirties, but you still wanted to look presentable. The last thing you wanted was to be accused that you were trying too hard, or turning Dabi’s invitation into something it wasn’t.

Once your satisfied with how you look, you make your way into your living room where Dabi is waiting for you. You don’t miss how he eyes you up and down as he stands up and makes his way over to you. “Ready?”

“All set.” You confirm, watching as his fiery blue eyes seem to light up as he grins at you. Twirling his car keys on his finger.

“I’ll drive.”

You follow him downstairs to his car, and surprisingly, he holds the door open for you. You slide into his passenger seat with a stammered thank you, allowing him to close the door behind you and get into the driver’s side, starting the car with a low roar. He puts the car in gear and pulls out of the apartment complex, before turning onto the road that leads back towards the beach, chatting you up all the while.

Your nerves about meeting the rest of his roommates slowly fade away as he assures you that his roommates where alright (even though he claimed they were still annoying), and while some of them were quieter than others, they meant well.

He steers the car past the boardwalk, causing you to raise an eyebrow at him. Dabi catches your look and chuckles. “I rent a house on the other side of town with a few guys. It’s more secluded.”

You nod as you watch the multi-coloured lights from the rides pass you by as Dabi continues on down the road. You learn very quickly he wasn’t kidding about his house being secluded, as he pulls off the main road and onto a dirt path leading into the trees that line the left side of the road. You can’t help but inwardly sweat at the change of scenery, but the passive look on Dabi’s face doesn’t change as he focuses on the road.

“You plan on murdering me or something?” You half joke, only for him to snicker.

“Naw doll, not tonight. You’re too pretty for that.”

He must see how flushed your face is reflected in the mirror, because he laughs openly at you and reaches over to squeeze your knee with a hot hand

“Kidding. Relax, we’re here. Probably should’ve told you I live in the middle of nowhere.” He chuckles as he pulls into an old driveway and puts the car in park. “Welcome to my house.”

You find yourself looking at a large traditional-styled home that looks like nothing’s been done to it since the turn of the past century. There’s moss and dead leaves littering the roof and front yard, and some of the white paint on the front of the house is cracked and pealing. If you had stumbled across the house on your own, you would’ve thought it was abandoned – if not for the two other cars parked on the other side of the driveway, signaling the house was inhabited.

Dabi must see your apprehensive look as he gets out to open your door again despite your protests. “I know, it looks like a bit of a dump.” He admits as he jerks a thumb towards the house. “That’s what happens when you have five guys who all work nights living under one roof. Rents cheap though. It’s why we’ve been here for so long.”

“You all work nights?” you ask as Dabi leads you towards the front door. He hums in agreement as he opens the door, exposing a dark inside interior.

The more you think about it, the more it makes since. You’ve never encountered him during the day, and every time you’ve run into him it was always near the boardwalk.

“What is it that you do?” you ask him as he flicks on a light near the door, illuminating an old mudroom and part of a dark hall. He shuts the door behind you as he kicks off his shoes, prompting you to do the same.

“I work near the docks.” He tells you vaguely as he gestures for you to follow him further into the house. “I do some operational work. Shipping and receiving. All that boring shit. It’s not very exciting.”

“What do the rest of your roommates do?” you ask him as he takes you towards a closed off room near the back of the house. You can hear different voices echoing behind the door as well as what sounds like a TV playing in the background. Dabi only shakes his head at you as he opens the door, exposing the room inside.

“You can ask them yourself.”

You step inside and are greeted to the sight of the four men from the boardwalk lounging around a large flatscreen TV. The man with the pink dye job and silver haired man with the odd scarring on his face are huddled around the screen playing a fighting game, while the two older looking gentlemen are sitting on the worn leather couch behind them, providing commentary. The blonde one with the scar running down the front of his face is smoking another cigarette, while the brunette dressed in well-tailored clothes is sitting on the other side of the couch, away from the smoke.

The pink haired man lets out huff of annoyance as his on-screen character dies. He turns around, only to freeze as he locks eyes with you.

“Oh shit.” He breathes, “She came.”

His comment causes the other men to turn around and stare at you, their facial relations ranging from a mixture of surprise to slight distrust. You don’t know why some of them are looking at you with slightly guarded expressions, but you don’t get to dwell on it for long, as Dabi comes in behind you and lightly drapes an arm across your shoulders.

“These are the guys.” He announces, nodding at each of them in turn. “The two idiots on the floor are Tomera and Iguchi. That’s Jin,” he nods to the blonde who breaks out into a grin, waving at you. “—and last but not least is Atsuhiro.” The aforementioned man stands up to greet you, giving you a polite handshake.

“I apologize for the mess.” He tells you, gesturing around the crowed room. “We seldom get guests. We weren’t sure if you were actually going to come.”

“That’s alright. I didn’t notice.” You tell him as Dabi steers you towards an empty couch to the side of the one Jin and Atsuhiro are sitting on. You notice he keeps his hand on your frame as you sit down with him, and he doesn’t remove it afterwards, almost as if he’s guarding you. It’s not uncomfortable, but you notice the same uneasy feeling you had when you first met him and his motley crew is back. There’s something about them that unnerves you, but for the life of you, you can’t place what it is.

They seem alright at first glance though. Tomura and Iguchi resume their game, but make a point to talk to you while they play, as Jin and Atsuhrio engage you in conversation, all the while Dabi observes you, not really adding anything to the conversations, and seems content just listening to you talk to his roommates.

You find out that Tomura and Iguchi are streamers – their online tags being Shigaraki and Spinner respectively – while Atsuhrio works as a street performer using the stage name Mr. Compress. Meanwhile Jin (who insists you call him Twice, for reasons he doesn’t get into), does deliveries around town during the evening, on top of working with Dabi at the docks when it’s slow, but has the night off tonight.

As you slowly start to relax, the conversations gradually become easier until you’re questioning why you felt so uneasy in the first place; that is, until Tomera makes an off-handed comment to you.

“M’surprised he brought you back here.” He jerks a thumb back at Dabi, not looking up from his game. “Most girls don’t last that long with him—”

“Tenko,” Dabi seethes out through gritted teeth beside you. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

“Don’t call me by that name.” The red eyed man snaps suddenly, pausing the game to glare at the man beside you. “That name is dead, and you know I’m right.”

“Don’t be an ass.” Dabi snarls back as he pulls you towards him. “I told you to behave tonight while she’s over.”

“Fuck you, you’re not my father.”

“No, but I can torch your ass—”

“Alright, maybe we shouldn’t have this fight in front of her.” Iguchi suddenly speaks up, cutting them both off. “I don’t know about you guys, but I like her, and I want her to come back.”

“Thank you, Iguchi, I like you too.” You tell him sweetly, causing the tips of his ears to pinken, as he mumbles something intelligible under his breath and turns back towards the TV. Tomura rolls his eyes and resumes the game. Jin only chuckles as he turns towards you.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Jin tells you with a genuine smile. “Himiko’s going to love you.”

You shoot Dabi a questioning look, but he only rolls his eyes. “You’ll meet her shortly.”

“Her? But I thought only you guys lived here—”

Before you can get another word out, the distant slam of a door, accompanied by the sound of footsteps rushing towards the room interrupts you. As the light footsteps grow closer, you feel Dabi tense up beside you, as he leans over to whisper something to Atsuhiro that sounds suspiciously along the lines of, “I swear, if she’s just getting back in from one of her nightly rampages, we’re going to have a problem-“ Before a blonde girl who looked to be no older then eighteen, with two hair buns on either side of her head, bursts into the room with an almost manic grin on her face.

“Guys, you would not believe what I smelled coming back up here.” She cackles. “I think there’s a—” she cuts herself off as her abnormally golden eyes find yours. Before you can blink, she’s tossed herself over the couch that Jin and Atsuhrio are sitting on and plops herself down right in front of you.

“Hi! You’re really pretty! I’m Himiko Toga! Who are you?” she questions you with a smile that’s almost too wide for her face. You introduce yourself with a breathless laugh at her animated introduction, only to hear what sounds like a rumble coming from Dabi.

You turn to him only to see his insanely blue eyes are locked on the girl sitting in front of you and realize that he is, in fact growling at her.

“Back off Toga.” He warns her, but she ignores him.

“God I’m so happy another girl is here – I’m stuck here with these smelly boys every day and it get so boring! Do you know that you smell really, really good by the way—”

“Okay, enough.” Dabi hisses through gritted teeth. “Jesus, you don’t need to come onto her that fucking strong.”

Himiko gapes at him in mock shock. “Oh, come on. I could smell her all the way from outside the front door. You know she smells good. We all know!” She points around the room, but for some reason none of the other men meet her eye. In fact, they seem to be trying incredibly hard not to acknowledge what she’s saying.

Odd. You don’t remember putting on any perfume before you left.

“Thanks… I guess.” You tell her, unsure of what to say in response. Before the younger girl can respond, Dabi swiftly interrupts her.

“It’s not a bad thing. This psycho just doesn’t know how to give a compliment like a normal fucking person.” He shoots her a pointed look, but he’s not snarling at her anymore. Himiko seems to get the point, and sticks her tongue out at him, settling into the space between Jin and Atsuhrio, chatting excitedly with the older blonde, while occasionally sneaking glances at you.

The earlier tension fades away and you spend the next couple of hours with the odd group, chatting with each of them. Some of them have more to say then others such as Jin and Himiko, while Tomura and Iguchi are more on the quiet side, but still pleasant to talk to none the less. Dabi remains quiet for the most part next to you, never saying much, but you can tell he’s pleased with how you interact with his roommates.

Still, even as you grow more comfortable around them, there’s still a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that something is off about them. You have no proof to back up your unease though, so you try your best to ignore it, and focus on having a good time. After all, the seemingly mismatched group was the closest thing you had to actual friends here, and made you realize how badly you missed your group of friends back home.  

You quickly end up losing track of time, and it’s only when Dabi checks his phone besides you, and muffles a curse under his breath, do you realize how late it is.

“Shit, it’s already five, I gotta take you home, sun will be up soon.” He mutters as he stands up, offering a hand to you, which you accept.

“Gotta keep up your sleep schedule?” you ask, hearing Tomura snort in the background at your comment. Dabi only nods as he heads towards the door.

“Something like that.”

You wave at the rest of the group. “It was really nice meeting you all.” You tell them sincerely. “Hopefully we can do this again sometime.”

“Come back anytime!” Himiko chirps, waving at you enthusiastically. “You better bring her back!” she crows at Dabi’s retreating from, and he waves at her without turning back around.

He leads you towards the front of the house where your shoes are, before walking out into the dewy morning air towards his car. Once again, he holds your door open for you, ignoring your protests, before getting in himself and starting the car, pulling out of the old driveway, and heading back down the dirt path towards the main road.

The sun is just starting to peak out from the horizon, painting the coastline in soft pinks and purples as Dabi steers the car past the old boardwalk, before you finally ask the question that had been on your mind for the last couple of hours.

“So, what’s the deal with Himiko?”

The dark-haired man only grunts. “You mean why is she so unhinged? Beats the hell outta me princess. “

“No, not that.” You wave him off, smacking his shoulder playfully at the nickname as he sends you a shit-eating grin in response. “I mean… you didn’t tell me about her initially, and I’ve never seen her with you before. Does she live with you too?”

Dabi mulls over your question for a moment, keeping a careful eye on the horizon which is slowly growing brighter, as he turns onto your street. After a moment he nods.

“Yeah, she does.” He confirms. “I know how it looks: one high school girl living with five guys in their twenties and thirties, but trust me, it’s not like that.” He’s quiet for a moment before elaborating.

“Toga has a shitty past. She ran away from her folks years ago – bad homelife from what she told us – and she had nowhere to go for a long time. I found her wandering the boardwalk one day and she never left after that. She took to Twice immediately, and she’s basically like his little sister. He’d do just about anything for her.” He exhales through his noes as he begrudgingly admits; “Hell, we all would.”

“Damn, how much did it hurt to admit that?” you tease him, prompting him groan.

“Shut up.” He grumbles as he pulls into your building’s parking lot. He parks the car and turns to you. “So, did we scare you off?”

“Not yet.” you tell him with a smile as you unbuckle your seat beat and open your door, posed to leave. “You guys are definitely interesting, I’ll give you that, but honestly; this was really nice. Thank you for inviting me over. I hope we can do it again sometime soon.”

Dabi shrugs his shoulders, “Well they seem to like you, especially Toga and Twice, so you’re welcome to come over again if you want. It’ll have to be during the evening though, since we all work at night.”

“Noted.” You tell him as you slide out of the car, only for him to suddenly grab your arm. You turn to stare at him quizzically, only for him to nod at your purse.

“Gimme me your phone for a second.”

You unlock it and pass it to him wordlessly, only to see him open a new contact in your phone and type something into it before passing it back to you. “My number.” He tells you before you can ask. “It’s easier to get a hold of me this way, rather than running into me at night at random.”

“Good call.” You agree, “I’ll text you later?”

“I’ll be waiting.” He sends you a knowing smirk. “I’ll see you later sweetheart.”

“Yeah… later.” You tell him, closing the door behind you. He waits until you’ve made it inside your building’s lobby, before peeling out of the parking lot and taking off towards his house like hell on wheels. You find it a little strange, but you loose track of your thoughts when you glance down at your phone, only to see he’s labeled himself as Dabi with a little flame emoji and a winky face next to his name in your contacts.

You feel yourself blush involuntarily as you stuff your phone back in your purse and climb the stairs to your apartment.

You definitely had a crush on him, you couldn’t deny it. Yet there was something off about him you just couldn’t place. There was something he wasn’t telling you – you just couldn’t figure out what it was.

The next several weeks come and go, and for the most part, they’re uneventful.

Work is going well, and you finally manage to find the time to finish personalizing your apartment so it looks more like home. Your friends still message you occasionally, giving you updates about what’s going on back home, and your ex pops up in conversation with them once or twice on how he’s still asking about you, much to your dismay. Aside from that, everything in your life is shockingly normal.

It feels almost odd being able to say it out loud. This is the most at ease you’ve felt since breaking up with your ex. Being on your own, away from him and his obsessive tendencies, makes you question why you didn’t do it sooner.

It feels nice, being able to breathe for the first time in almost two years since calling it off with him. Your life is calmer, maybe a bit slower than you’re used to, but it’s peaceful and stable. You’re happy.

The only major thing that’s changed recently is how you’re spending a lot more time around Dabi now.

Ever since he gave you his number, you’ve been texting back and forth frequently. You’ve gotten to know him better in that time (even though he still refused to tell you his real name), and you can safely say; he has his quirks.

For starters; he only messages you at night. He’s radio silent during the day, and only texts you back once the sun has set, or whenever he gets up. You’d blame it on him working nights, but he’s always quick to respond to your texts late at night, and always seems to be free whenever you message him asking if he wanted to get together, making you wonder what kind of work schedule he runs on.

Another thing you find peculiar is how you don’t think you’ve ever seen him eat before. You’ve offered to make him dinner a few times or to go into town to get something, but he always waves you off politely, telling you he’s already eaten, or giving you some other reason why he doesn’t want to get food with you. It’s not a deal-breaker by any means, and he doesn’t strike you as the type to have issues with food, but you leave it be just in case.

He's also weird about coming into your apartment even though he’s been in it multiple times by now. You’d initially thought he was uncomfortable being in your space, but it seems to be more of a politeness thing than anything else. He’s definitely not as stiff about entering like he was when he first came to visit, but he still makes a show about you inviting him in, even though he claims he could waltz right into your unit if he wanted to, but he never does.

Finally, you’ve noticed he isn’t particularly well-liked by the locals. In fact; none of the people in his house seem to be, but it’s especially bad with him.

It’s glaringly obvious. He’s taken you into town a handful of times so you can walk around together, only for people to glare pointedly at him and start whispering as soon as you were both out of ear-shot. If it bothers him, he doesn’t let it show, but you know from how his jaw tenses up, he’s aware that people are talking behind his back.

You tried to ask him about it once, but he shrugged you off, saying something about how there was some bad blood between him and some of the older locals, but refused to dive into it, stating how it was old news, but some people didn’t like to forget the past. His tone had given you the impression he wasn’t going to tell you any more than that, so you’d left it alone, not wanting to get into it.

There were somethings people didn’t feel comfortable sharing. You could relate; your rocky relationship with your ex was one of those topics for you.

To his credit, Dabi doesn’t pry into it, but it’s come up a few times – it’s inevitable, you knew it would eventually – but he doesn’t force you to say more then what you want to tell him. You don’t think you’d have to say much anyways; he seems to be able to piece together what happened in your past relationship on his own, without you having to say much of anything.

“Guy’s a dick.” He’d told you bluntly one night as you were taking an evening stroll around the boardwalk. “Seriously, he sounds like a tool. You should be glad you got out of there when you did. I wouldn’t waste your time crying over someone like him.”

“Easy to say that now – it wasn’t so easy when I was living with him.” You’d told him calmly. “We had joint banking. It’s hard to get out when you have to pay rent and buy groceries. I saved up enough to move out and get my place here eventually, but it took time.”

He’d fallen quiet at that, shifting his piercing blue orbs from your figure to the wooden boards beneath his feet, before nodding and muttering mostly to himself; “Yeah. I get that.”

For some reason, your heart had swelled in your chest upon seeing him vulnerable for a moment – a far cry from his usual fiery and cocky self.

In that moment you knew you were screwed; you were down bad for a man whose real name you still didn’t know. Somewhere along the lines, he had wormed his way into your heart without you noticing, and made a place from himself there.

Yet, you couldn’t say you minded. He was different from anyone you’d ever met, but in a way you found refreshing.

Currently, you find yourself walking with him on the boardwalk once again, admiring the blinking strings of fairy lights. Dabi doesn’t hold your hand, but he walks stride for stride with you, your shoulders bumping occasionally at the close proximity. Suddenly, a loud wail interrupts the usual fair noises permeating the warm evening air around you.

You both turn in the direction of the cry, only to see two middle-aged women standing in front of the massive missing person’s board. One of the ladies is sobbing unconsolably, while the other one is trying to console her.

Ah yes, you’d been so wrapped up with moving into your place and hanging out with Dabi on top of work, you’d almost completely forgotten about the town’s dark underbelly.

You can see Dabi’s lips pull downwards slightly as he takes them in, and he reaches out to try and steer you away from the scene, muttering under his breath about not wanting to get involved, but you gently pull your arm away from his grasp as you take a hesitant step towards the ladies who are slowly moving away from the old wooden board. You manage to overhear the last bit of their conversation as they leave, and older woman’s cry’s pull at your heart.

“—I don’t understand, where could he have gone? I saw him that morning, but he never came back home!”

“—We’ll find him dear. Maybe he’s visiting your friends on the other side of town.”

“—He would’ve called! It’s been three days! Three days since I’ve heard any word from my husband!”

You creep closer to the old corkscrew board and feel your heart sink in your chest as you find yourself looking at a fresh photo of a middle-aged man, presumably the woman’s missing husband. Now that you can see the board in its entirety, you notice there’s several new fliers posted among the sea of other missing faces, presumably never found.

You hear the heavy tread of Dabi’s combat boots behind you. “There’s more.” You tell him sadly without turning around. You hear him exhale loudly through his nose.

“Told you there would be. I wasn’t lying. This place is the missing person’s capitol of Japan.”

“I don’t understand.” You turn to face him, only to see that he has a blank expression on his face, giving nothing away. “I’ve never seen anything suspicious when we’ve gone out at night, and you told me that’s when this stuff usually happens.”

“The difference is; you don’t go out looking for trouble.” Dabi tells you smoothly, his insanely blue irises meeting yours, locking you in place. “Trust me, these people probably went out of their way to stumble across something they weren’t supposed to see, and they paid the price for it. Bad things happen all the time sweetheart, whether you see them or not.”

“You seem pretty confident about that.” You murmur finally, holding his gaze. “Had some experience with trouble in the past?”

For once, Dabi doesn’t have anything to say to you. Finally, he sighs and rakes a hand through his inky spikes. “Maybe.”

You want to ask him what he means, but in that moment, you feel your phone vibrate from inside your purse. You fish it out, only to see a text appear on screen that has your blood turning to ice in your veins.

???

Found you.

There’s no name attached to the text, only a random number you don’t recognize, but you think you already know who it’s from.

It has to be him. There’s only one other person you can think of who would text you something so innocent but so sinister, and it has you feeling like you want to puke.

Your ex-boyfriend.

Your eyes dart around the packed boardwalk wildly, trying to see if you could spot the familiar face of your ex in the crowd, but thankfully, you don’t see him anywhere.

How in the hell did he find you? There were only a few friends aside from your parents who knew where you’d moved to, and you highly doubt any of them would tell him where you’d gone. It was possible he’d simply gotten a new number and found a way to text you just to scare you, and if that’s what he wanted, he had accomplished his goal.

Your panic must be written across your face clear as day, because the next thing you know, Dabi has a hand underneath your chin, lifting your face up to meet his concerned expression.

“—I asked if you were okay doll. I’ve been calling you, but you didn’t respond to me.” He tells you. He glances down at your phone, a frown pulling at his lips. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know.” You tell him truthfully, shoving your phone back into your bag. “A really sick joke, I hope.”

His eyes narrow, the fire burning in them shines brightly, even though they’re more lidded then usual as he narrows his eyes at you. “What’s going on sweetheart?”

“Nothing—I—” You croak. You can’t stop looking around, hoping, praying, you don’t see the one person you were trying to escape from staring back at you. “—I gotta go.”

A look of concern passes over Dabi’s face, and you feel a flash of guilt for lying to him, but you don’t want to get him involved. You don’t want to bring anyone else into your mess. It’s not fair.

“If this was about earlier, I can—”

“It’s not!” you cut him off, already backing away from him. “I’ll text you later. I just—I just gotta go. I’m sorry.”

You don’t give him time to respond, before you pivot on your heel and book it down the boardwalk, away from the blinding lights, and away from him.

You don’t look back, and you don’t stop running until you’re in your tiny apartment – slamming the door behind you and locking it – even though it feels suffocating. It feels like the walls are closing in on you, and you’re finding it hard to breathe as you collapse onto your bed and cry.

You don’t know what to do.

You awake to the sound of furious pounding on your door.

You don’t know when you passed out; probably sometime after you managed to calm down slightly, but you can feel the dried tear tracks covering your cheeks as you slowly sit up and shuffle hesitantly towards your front door. The pounding continues, and you can’t help but wonder what time it is, and if you were going to receive a noise complaint from one of your neighbors, before you hear a horribly familiar voice just outside your door:

“I know you’re in there. You better open up right now or I’ll get your whole building involved!”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins as you hear the unmistakable sound of your ex-boyfriend’s voice snarl threateningly from the other side. You feel like someone’s dumped a bucket of freezing water on you as you start to panic. Tears flood your eyes involuntarily as you try to process what’s happening, but nothing’s making sense.

You have no doubt he’d wake the rest of your apartment building to get at you – if he hadn’t already woken up your neighbors. You know what he’s like better than anyone. Your ex has always been a big guy, and once he has his mind set on something (or someone), he’ll stop at nothing until he’s gotten it.

You have no idea how he got in the building in the first place, or how he figured out what apartment was yours, but that doesn’t matter as you watch your doorknob start twisting violently. You bolt forward and grab it with both hands, trying to keep it from unlocking as you listen to your ex-boyfriend grunt outside the door, no doubt trying to pick the lock from the outside.

After a few moments of back and forth struggling with the door; you hear the tell-take click of the door unlocking. You don’t stick around to watch it swing open – you know you won’t be able to hold it closed against him for long if he tries to force it open – and you sprint to your bedroom, slamming the flimsy door shut and locking it behind you.

You can’t calm down; you hear him in your kitchen, treading around the tiny space, calling for you, before his heavy footsteps slowly make their way towards your bedroom door.

You have limited options; if your apartment was closer to the ground, you’d consider escaping out your bedroom window, but you’re several stories up and you don’t want to do something that may cause you to break your leg, putting you at even more of a disadvantage against your ex-boyfriend. You have no idea what he wants from you, but if he’s so desperate that he’s willing to stalk you and break into your apartment, it can’t be good.

The police will take too long to get to you, you already know this. In the past, they hadn’t been helpful in these kind of situations – you know from experience. You can’t call them… but there is someone you can call.

You dive for your purse and pull out your phone just as your ex starts pounding on your bedroom door. Your finger hovers over Dabi’s contact in your phone, as he starts yelling at you through the door. You don’t want to involve Dabi in your personal troubles, you really don’t… but right now, you don’t have a choice.

Even though you don’t want to call him… you know he’ll help you.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you’ve hit the call button, and scoot yourself into the farthest corner of your room from the door, as you listen to the phone ring. It only rings twice before he picks up.

“It’s three in the morning sweetheart, what’s going on? Are you okay—”

“Dabi please help me!” you interrupt him, whispering frantically as your ex starts to rattle your doorknob. “I’m in trouble. I don’t know what to do!”

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” Immediately, his voice deepens, and you can tell he’s on high alert. You can’t see him, but you can hear rustling on the other end, and the tell-tale jingling of keys in the background.

“I’m in my apartment—it’s my ex—I don’t know how, but he found me. He broke in, and now he’s outside my door!” You hate that you’ve starting crying again, but you’re terrified, and Dabi can tell.

“Is he in the room with you?” Dabi rasps on the other line. “I can hear shouting in the background, that him?”

“Yeah, that’s him, and no he’s not, but he’s trying to force his way in!”

Dabi hums and you hear a door slam in the distance, followed by the sound of what you assume is his car starting.

“I’ll be there in less then ten. Just stay on the line with me. Everything’s going to be okay doll, I promise. I don’t know what he wants, but he’s not going to hurt you, I promise—”

At that moment, your bedroom door flies inward, causing you to scream and drop your phone, ending the call, as your ex rushes towards you. A surge of pure adrenaline hits you, and you drive your foot into his stomach and kick him back, giving you enough time to push yourself to your feet and make a mad dash for your door, only for him to grab you around the middle, and throw you down onto your bed, climbing on top of you and pinning your hands before you can recover.

“Get off me you freak!” you screech as you thrash in his hold. You manage to knee him in the sternum, briefly knocking the wind of out him, but it only serves to make him angrier, as he presses his knees into your thighs, and grips your wrists so tightly you know you’ll have handshape bruises adorning your arms for days after.

“Hell no, I finally found you, you little bitch—there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go again.” Your ex seethes above you. “It took me weeks to track you down. Your friends were no help, so took me longer than expected to find you.”

“I didn’t want you to find me, that was the point of me moving here!” you wail as you desperately try to free your legs. “I never want to see you again! What part of that is so hard for you to understand?!”

“Bullshit. You and I aren’t done until I say we’re done.” Your ex snaps. He looks around your bedroom and scoffs.

“I see you’re trying so hard to build a new life without me. Ungrateful brat. You moved on fast.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Your ex-boyfriend dips down so your noses are almost touching. “I saw you on the boardwalk with that guy earlier. Who the hell is he? Your fuck-buddy? Your new boy toy?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but he’s on his way here so I suggest you leave before he makes you!”

At your threat, your ex throws his head back and laughs. “I know what he looks like. He’s not even half my body weight. I’m not fucking scared of him—”

The abrupt sound of your front door being kicked in aggressively stops him mid-sentence, and the sound of heavy boots stomping towards your bedroom causes him to freeze. Your ex shifts so he’s more upright and looks behind him, giving you a clear view of your doorframe; only to see Dabi standing in it, looking absolutely feral.

His dark hair is wilder then usual, obsidian spikes sticking up every which way, and he has on the dark, torn duster you’d first seen him in over his usual dark pants and white tee-shirt, giving him a an almost deranged look. He has a mean glint in his eyes you’ve never seen before, and he looks almost predatory as your bedroom casts odd shadows across his face. You’ve never seen him this pissed before, and all of your instincts are screaming at you to run as you take in his disheveled appearance. 

“You’re not scared of me, huh?” Dabi chuckles, but there’s no humor to it. His voice is as cold as ice, but his eyes are like blue fire, and are locked on your ex.

“You should be.”

It’s the only warning you get before he lunges at your ex. The sudden tackle rips him off of you and Dabi wastes no time taking him to the floor as you bolt upright. You look on in shock as both men wrestle on the floor before it turns into an all-out slug fest between them. You leap out of the way as they make their way off the floor and crash into your walls, never once taking their hands off of each other as they yell obesities and filth that you’re certain your next-door neighbor can hear through your shared wall. 

Honestly, you’re shocked at how well Dabi is handling himself – you didn’t think he was weak, but he’s much leaner then your ex and not as tall – yet, he’s clearly got the upper hand as he cracks your ex across the face in rapid succession. You freeze as his nose explodes into a mess of scarlet, splattering across his face and your wall as he yells out in pain, taking his hands off of Dabi to hold his nose in a pathetic attempt to stanch the bleeding. The sudden display of gore has the opposite effect on Dabi.

He stares at the blood flowing from your ex’s nose like a faucet, before shooting you an almost apologetic look. 

“Sorry you have to see this doll.”

You don’t have time to ask him what he means before he seems to shift right before your eyes. The shadows of your room seem to warp and twist around him, and you think it’s just a trick of the moonlight streaming in from your window; until you watch his obsidian hair turn stark white.

You feel your eyes widen as his form shifts – you ex is too busy trying to keep his nose together to pay attention to what’s happening in front of him – but you notice a horrible burning smell wafting through the room as his once pale, flawless skin morphs into a patchwork mess of dusky, wrinkled burns, held together to the few patches of visible healthy skin by what looks like silver surgical staples glinting wickedly in the pale moonlight.

You have no idea what’s happening to him or who or what he is, but you feel your knees give out as he flashes you a nasty looking grin, giving you a full view of the wicked sharp fangs sliding down past his burnt lower lip.

“You—” you whisper, but you don’t manage to say anything more, before Dabi turns back to your ex, grabbing him by the hair and yanking him down to his level, before sinking his razor-sharp fangs into the side of his neck before the larger man can even register what’s happening.

Your ex tries to fend him off, but Dabi is stronger. He ends up relinquishing his hold on his hair in favour of wrapping his arms around him in a death embrace. You can’t pull your eyes off of the scene in front of you, as your ex’s struggling gradually grows weaker, while Dabi laps at the blood flowing freely from the deep puncture holes in the side of his neck.

You hear your ex gargle wetly in the back of his throat before he goes completely limp in the white-haired mans grip. After a moment, Dabi retracts his fangs from his neck, before tossing his motionless body to the floor. You whimper involuntarily as you cover your mouth, staring at the lifeless body of your ex-boyfriend as Dabi whirls around to face you, his piercing eyes finding yours.

“You killed him.” You whisper. Dabi only glances down at the still-warm corpse on your bedroom floor for half a second before locking eyes with you again.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“He was assaulting you.”

“Oh.” You croak lamely. You try not to stare at the red coating his lips and dripping down his chin, staining the white of his shirt.

A moment of silence descends on your room. The only thing you can hear is the frantic pounding of your heart in your chest – it’s so loud in the resounding silence, you’re sure Dabi can hear it. The air is so tense you can cut it with a knife, but neither of you make a move. Finally, you clear your throat.

“I think I’m going to call the police.”

“You’re not going to do that.”

When the ivory-haired creature speaks, his voice is low and quiet, but you can tell just by looking at his eyes, he means business. You swallow thickly and nod to the corpse behind him.

“There’s a dead body in my apartment Dabi, I need to call the police. I—” you cough, trying to reason with him. “I’m not going to tell them about you. I won’t say anything. I know you were trying to protect me, but I can’t just ignore a dead body in my bedroom—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dabi interrupts you, waving a hand at the corpse dismissively. “I’ll take care of it.”

“What do you mean you’ll—”

Dabi snaps his fingers, and before you can blink, the corpse of your ex-boyfriend bursts into bright blue flames. You scream as you scramble backwards, pressing yourself further against the wall, as the flames rage and quickly consume the body before your eyes. Dabi only grins savagely at your reaction.

“Don’t be scared sweetheart. He’s trash. The least he can do is become fuel for my flames.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, watching as the cobalt flames extinguish themselves, leaving nothing but ash in their wake. “What are you?”

Dabi only stares you down as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think you already know the answer doll.”

You do. But you don’t think you can voice it out loud. You don’t know what it means for either of you now.

Dabi licks his mismatched lips, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his red tinted fangs. “You’re coming with me.”

You shake your head. “No, hold on—”

“I’m not giving you a choice sweetheart.”

He’s on you faster than you can blink. He slaps a brunt hand over your mouth before you can cry out. He grabs your chin with his free hand as he presses you up against the wall, forcing you to stare into his burning irises.

“Sleep.” He commands.

You feel a wave of sudden fatigue pass over you, and your eyelids flutter shut against your will. The last thing you remember is feeling his insanely warm arms wrap around you and a sudden feeling of weightlessness, before sleep takes you.

You wake up with a pounding headache.

Blinking away sleep, you slowly sit up with a groan and rub at your eyes, wincing internally as you feel your eye makeup smear even further. You slowly look around, only to freeze as it suddenly dawns on you have no idea where you are.

You’re in what appears to be a bedroom, but it’s hard to tell since it’s so dark. The window coverings block out any form of light from outside, keeping you quite literally in the dark. You have no idea what time it is or (more concerning), who’s bedroom you’re in, until the events from before you passed out come flooding back to you.

Your ex. Blood everywhere. Dabi. Scars. Blue flames. Fangs.

You shudder at the last thought. Had you hallucinated the whole thing? It didn’t seem real. You think back to feeling the heat of the flames that had consumed your ex-boyfriend on your skin, and you rub at your arms involuntarily.

No, they had definitely been real. Which means everything else was real too.

Currently, you were certain of two things:

One: your shitty ex was dead. Drained of his blood before being incinerated to a crisp before your very eyes.

Two: Dabi wasn’t human.

Before you can sink too far into your thoughts, you’re suddenly aware of a prickling sensation dancing along your skin. You know the feeling all too well, and as groggy as you might feel in the moment, you’re painfully aware someone’s watching you.

You’re not alone.

A slight shuffling noise from the far corner of the room catches your attention. You slowly turn in the direction of the sound with baited breath, only to see an abnormal looking shadow faintly outlined in the surrounding darkness of the room.

You already know who it is without him having to say anything.

“Dabi?” you call out to him timidly. A deep sigh answers you.

“Good, you’re awake. You’ve been out for a while.” He rasps quietly.

“Where am I?” you ask, squinting at his outline. The more you try to make him out, the more he seems to try and blend into the pitch of the room.

“My room. Back at the house. I drove us back here after you passed out.” You hear him kiss the back of his teeth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sleep for so long.”

“Wait, how long have I been out?” you question, as you feel around your surroundings, only to realize that he’s put you on his bed.

“About an hour. Dawn’s coming soon. I couldn’t leave you alone after you saw all… that.”

He doesn’t need to clarify what he means.

You both laps into an uncomfortable silence, before you finally gather up the courage to ask him the question that’s plagued you since he took you.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Silence answers you, and you feel yourself start to shake as every horrible scenario you can think of races through your head. Almost as if he senses the what you’re thinking about, you hear Dabi take a hesitant step forward, only to catch himself at the last second.

“…No.” he finally admits. “No, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Then why did you bring me here?” you sniff, as you try to control the tears you feel pricking at the corners of your lash line. “Why do any of this. What are you? Who are you?”

He doesn’t answer you. You squint into the abys of the room where you know he is, and you can faintly see his deep blue eyes gazing back at you, looking like twin flames in the gloom. You swallow hard and try a different approach.

“It’s too dark in here… can I have some light?”

Dabi sighs, but you hear him snap his fingers, and suddenly a candle you didn’t know was nearby, bursts into blue flames. The wicks hiss and sizzle before settling, casting an eerie blue glow around the room, illuminating it slightly. You glance to the corner where you know Dabi is, and you can see him a little better, though he seems to be trying to keep himself out of the light as much as possible.

You frown slightly. “Come here.” You tell him quietly, patting the space beside you on the bed. You know you’re tempting fate, but you believe him when you say he won’t hurt you. He had multiple chances to kill you, and yet; you’re still here.

You hear Dabi snort. “I don’t think you want that.”

You shake your head. “I do. C’mere. We need to talk.”

Dabi falls silent, but you see him turn towards you, and slowly makes his way over to you. The flickering blue light the candle provides casts twisted shadows over his lean frame as he stops just in front of you, and bends down so he’s eye level with you.

You find yourself face to face with a mess of painful looking burns covering the majority of his face, held together with countless surgical staples. The burns are everywhere; under his eyes, his neck, the entirety of his lower jaw, and even his ears. Now that you’re up close, you can see he even has some staples decorating his ears much like regular piercings, and he even has three studs dotting the right side of his nose. They suit him in a way, and you can’t help but find him handsome, even with half of his face completely ravaged by burns.

Dabi’s eyes glint savagely as you take him in slowly, his two-toned lips pulling back and exposing the deadly sharp fangs inside his maw. “Not pretty, is it?”

“What happened to you?” you whisper, hesitantly reaching up to touch his burnt lower jaw. Dabi seems to want to flinch away from your touch, but he forces himself to stay grounded as your fingertips gently brush his destroyed skin.

He laughs breathlessly and rakes a burnt hand aggressively through his now very white hair. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He agrees, pulling away from your gentle hands reluctantly. He trudges over to a small loveseat pushed up against the wall opposite to his bed and sits down on it, shrugging off his torn duster, before putting his head in his hands with a sigh, giving you a painful view of the long wine-coloured burns tracking down his arms and ending at his knuckles.

You try not to focus at the dried blood that’s still decorating his shirt and hands.

After a moment he props his head up on his hands, fixing you with his intense gaze, but still doesn’t say anything. You realize he’s waiting for you; but now you’re at a loss for words. The agitated vampire across the room from you sighs, and you can see the veins in his neck become more prominent as he forces himself to try and relax.

“I know you have questions, so ask.”

“So, you’re really a—” you cut yourself off and swallow thickly. Even though you know what he is without him saying it, you still can’t quiet bring yourself to say it out loud. He leans forward, smiling meanly as he rests his forearms on his knees, eyeing you with his burning stare of his, that suddenly seems so cold.

“Go on, you can say it.” He prompts you, finally getting you to unfreeze.

“—A vampire.” You finish lamely. He nods, leaning back and draping both arms over the back of the loveseat.

“You got it sweetheart.”

“But how?” you prod, finally finding your voice. “I thought they were myth?”

“So did I, until one bit me.” Dabi snickers unkindly across from you, before quieting down, allowing you to ask your next question.

“How did you become one?”

“I died.” Dabi tells you flatly, avoiding your gaze for the first time since he brought you here. His nose scrunches up after he says it.

“Well, I almost did. Technically I was walking the line between life and death when the old fucker found me.”

He sighs and runs a blood-stained hand through his spiky white mane, leaving faint russet streaks behind. You force yourself to maintain eye contact with him as he speaks again.

“When I was alive, my name was Touya Todoroki.” He admits softly, giving you his real name for the first time since you met him.  “I was taking a walk in the woods near my family home when a forest fire broke out, burning everything. I got trapped in the blaze and I ended up with these.” He gestures to the dark patches of gnarled skin covering the majority of his visible skin.

“I’m not sure how I managed to survive, and I don’t know how long I was left there for; but it was the vampire who ended up turning me, who found me in the aftermath. I was in bad shape and probably would’ve died if he hadn’t given me his blood, turning me into this.”

He says it so scathingly. You know he’s frustrated without him having to tell you. Still… the horrific burns that mar his skin tell you a story of unspeakable agony. There’s no way a normal person would’ve been able to survive what he went through without help. His help just happened to have come from an unexpected source.

“He saved you.” You murmur quietly, causing Dabi… Touya… whatever his name was, to snort bitterly.

“He didn’t fucking ask, he just did, consequences be damned. Believe me, there was plenty of days at the beginning where I wish he hadn’t and just let me die.”

His bluntness causes a deep ache to bloom in your chest as you take in the vast amount of damage covering his body. You can only imagine how much worse the burns had been when he’d first been turned, on top of dealing with becoming what he is now. Before you can say anything, Dabi continues on, still refusing to look at you directly.

“After he turned me; my sire brought me back with him to recover. I ended up staying with him for a few years while I was figuring out my new body before I eventually left. Found my way here a while ago and never ended up leaving. Been here ever since.” He looks at you pointedly. “Don’t ask me how old I am. I stopped keeping track a while ago.”

Normally you’d be content to leave it there (honestly, now that he’s said it, you’re not sure if you want to know exactly how old he is anyways), but he has a car, which means he must have a license of some kind, which then begs the question how he was able to get one in the first place.

“Wait, so if you’re a vampire and you’re… older than you look, how have you been able to get a drivers license, or any I.D. for that matter?” Dabi snorts.

“Remember how Compress works as an entertainer?”

“Yeah…?”

“Turns out he’s really good at forgery too.”

“Oh.” You furrow your brows at his explanation.

“So… Compress knows about your… condition?” Dabi smirks at your hesitance.

“Oh yeah. Fully aware.”

“Is he… I mean… is everyone in the house a—”

“We’ll put it this way doll: nobody in this house has a heartbeat except for you.”

Well, this just kept getting better and better. Not only was your crush and his friend’s part of the undead; they were also committing fraud. You definitely knew how to pick them.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are upon hearing the rest of Dabi’s roommates are also vampires. All of them operated at night, and they definitely had quirks that set them apart from other people. Not to mention it would also explain the feeling of unease you always experienced around them. You’re more shocked at how many there are, which brings you to your next question:

“So, your sire—” you look at him questionably, waiting for him to explain. Thankfully, he provides you with an answer.

“—is a term referring to the one who turns you, yeah. Mine happened to be a particularly old bastard. Strong as hell, but old as time. He had a lot of influence over my kind back in the day. Pretty sure he died some years back. No idea who killed him, but I’d thank them if I knew.” He pauses before laughing lightly.

“Come to think of it; Shigaraki and I share the same sire, but he stayed with him way longer than I did. I left as soon as I could.”

Well, that was interesting news. “Why?”

“He played favourites.”  The snowy-haired vampire grins at you from across the way, but there’s no warmth behind his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure he turned me first, but I was already gone by the time Shigaraki came into the picture. We knew of each other, but our paths never crossed. He sought me out a year or two before our sire bit the dust, and I’ve been stuck with him ever since. As for the others…” he waves his hand dismissively. “Hell if I know. They just sort of showed up one day, one after the other. I don’t know how they found us, s’not like I was broadcasting we were here, but they still came regardless, and then they never left.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about what happened to your sire.” You tell him. “It must be hard, loosing your mentor like that.” To your surprise Dabi only laughs, waving off your concerns.

“Don’t be. In fact, I’m not. I’m glad he’s gone. Shigaraki was more torn up about it then I ever was, but even he got over it. There’s a lot of perks that come along with your sire dying. Powerful perks.” He leans forward, pointing to the blue flames chewing away at the candle wicks.

“When it comes to vampire hierarchy, the most powerful vampires are the older ones who create the majority of newer vampires. The vampires they turn are basically their pawns – never to get any stronger – unless, their creator dies. Then they can inherit some of their former sire’s abilities through succession.”

He grins darkly at the confused expression you know you must be wearing on your face, because he elaborates before you can ask. He taps the marred skin of his lower jaw.

“If you haven’t noticed, I can shift between my real face, and the one you’re used to seeing; minus the burns. I didn’t used to be able to do that. Do you know how fucking difficult it is to go out in public when your face looks like this? Even at night, all people do is stare. It’s fucking annoying.” He shakes his head, allowing the dim candle light to reflect off his pale hair, giving it a blue tinge. “There’s a bunch of other things I can do now, but this is the most useful.”

“Like the flames?” You ask. Surprisingly, Dabi shakes his head.

“No, that I’ve always been able to do since I turned. My own special ability if you will. Normally you get one when you become a vampire. Shigaraki can decay shit; Toga can transform herself into a different person if she’s drank their blood; Twice can create multiple copies of himself; you get the picture. there’re some weird ones out there. Mine’s a sick fucking joke, considering it’s what killed me in the first place, but it’s powerful, so I can’t complain too much.”

“Oh.” You mumble, still trying to wrap your head around what he’s telling you, but you know you’re failing miserably. You’re not worried about him killing you, but you still don’t understand why he’s telling you all this.

“So… you don’t want to kill me.” You clarify gently. Dabi only shakes his head.

“No. Wouldn’t have bothered tell you all that if I did.” He confirms softly.

“Then what do you want with me?” you ask him again. Dabi sighs.

“I don’t think it’s a secret that I like you princess.” He tells you with the faintest hint of a smirk, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. “—and I know you like me too.” He adds after a pause.

Your mouth twitches and you nod slowly before looking away. “I do, it’s just... this is a lot to take in.”

A thought occurs to you suddenly, an awful thought. One that you wish you didn’t think of, but now that you have, you have to ask.

“All those people… the missing ones from the boardwalk… that was you, wasn’t it?”

His silence is telling.

“Oh my god Dabi…” you whisper, running a hand through your hair as you let out a breathless laugh. “There’s so many people… how long have you been doing this for?”

“To be fair, not all of them were me.” He corrects you, but his answer lacks any of his usual fire. “There are five other vampires here. I can’t drain over a hundred people by myself. Besides, I don’t need much to survive. I can go two or three weeks without feeding, but the longer I go without blood, the worse the thirst is.”

“Over a hundred?” you sputter. You think back to all the faces you’d seen posted on the bulletin board. Some postings had been quite old while others had been days old, and there had probably been more before them – many more.

“Like I said; we’ve been here a long time. We never get old, and we basically never die… but we have to feed. That’s the trade off.” Dabi tells you solemnly.

“We normally try to go for people who won’t be missed; drunks, the occasional asshole who pisses us off… and some piece of shit abusers.” He growls ominously, and you know that he’s referring to your ex without him having to say it.

“… But some people just end up coming across us at the wrong place at the wrong time.” He admits after a moment. “We try to be selective about who we feed off of, but if we’re starving, we have to feed, otherwise we would go feral.”

“Is that why you brought me here?” you hate that you have to ask him, but you need to know. “To feed off of?”

“Hell no.” Dabi reaffirms. “Of course not. Your blood smells incredible, and I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t thought about drinking from you...” He bites his burnt lower lip as you visibly cringe in front of him, before quickly adding: “But I’m not going to feed off you. I enjoy having you around too much. You’re different from the other humans I’m forced to be around. Besides, I’m not hungry anyways.”

You try not to read too much into that.

“So then what are your plans for me?” you finally ask, as you pull one of the blankets you were laying on over your legs. “Why bother telling me any of this? Do… do the others know I’m here?”

“They know. If you’re worried about them getting at you, they won’t. They’d have to go through me, and I’m not someone they want to fight anyways. I’d light their asses up if they got within ten feet of you. But they don’t want you harmed either, so don’t worry about them.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Dabi scoffs. “Shigaraki isn’t happy that I brought you back here, but he’s a miserable bastard on a good day. I couldn’t very well leave you back at your place anyways.”

“So then what happens now?” you ask quietly. “I don’t think things can go back to the way they were before.”

Dabi shakes his head; his ivory spikes sway sightly at the motion. “No. They can’t. I figured if I brought you back here and tried to explain what was going on, you’d understand at least a little. I wouldn’t have bothered saving you from that piece of shit if I didn’t somewhat care for you, you know.” 

“I know.” You pause before averting your eyes, and mumbling bashfully; “Thank you for saving my life. I have no idea what he was going to do with me, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. I was… so scared.” You admit as you drop your gaze to your hands.

You ex had never acted like that before in the past – even when things were at an all-time low between you, he’d never physically assaulted you. The look he’d had in his eyes could’ve fooled you into thinking he was possessed by a demon. You don’t want to think about what would’ve happened had Dabi not intervened.

At your silence, Dabi stands from his spot and slowly makes his way over to you, giving you plenty of time to stop him if you wanted, but you let him approach. He cautiously kneels on the bed in front of you, and slowly takes your hands in his large, scarred ones.

“Look;” he tells you softly, but firmly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I like you. There’s something about you I find irresistible – and it’s got nothing to do with how I find the smell of your blood intoxicating either. I want you to stay… with me, that is.”

You feel yourself soften at his admission and he groans in the back of his throat, squeezing your hands. “Look. I’m not good at this shit. I’ve been around a long time and I’ve never been good at it – never needed to be – but ever since I met you, I’ve wanted to keep you all to myself.” He bites out a laugh at his admission.

“It’s selfish of me to say that; especially considering everything that happened with your ex – but you make me want to be.” He licks his lips before quietly admitting;

“I may be a monster, but I certainly won’t treat you like one.”

You mull over his words for a moment. His eyes convey nothing but sincerity, and you find yourself believing what he’s saying to you. You squeeze his hands back.

“I feel the same way about you.” You admit, watching as a variety of emotions flicker through his eyes. Shock. Surprise. Acceptance, and something else you couldn’t quite place—

“Can I kiss you? He suddenly blurts out. You blink, realizing he’d gradually gotten closer to you, invading your space and crowding you in. If it’d had been anyone else, you’d be uncomfortable with how close they were to you; but it’s Dabi, and even with the knowledge of what he was, you don’t feel anything but calm.

Odd, considering you’d watched him murder a man right in front of you not too long ago – but even knowing that, you know he won’t hurt you.

You nod, your eyes slipping closed, and he leans in and presses his two-toned lips to your own. The texture of his lips is unlike anything you’ve ever felt; his upper lip is soft while his bottom lip is rough and chapped from the burns, but the contrast is nice, and you feel yourself sigh into the kiss, giving him further access to your mouth. The scarred man takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss, as you feel his hands leave your own to cradle either side of your face. You realize how big his hands are when you feel his fingers splay out across your lower jaw and sweep over the pulse point in your neck, keeping you tethered to him as you fist your hands in his shirt.

You only pull back when air becomes too much of a necessity, but not before you boldly run your tongue over the too-sharp teeth hidden in his mouth, causing Dabi to laugh slightly as he watches you regain your breath. His hands never leave the sides of your face, as you reach up to cover the backs of his stapled covered hands with your smaller ones.

“You’re playing a dangerous game sweetheart.” he chuckles, slowly rubbing circles onto your face with his fingertips. “Keep doing that, and I really won’t be able to control myself around you.”

His statement makes you blush and you squeeze his hands. “Dabi I—"

“Touya.”

“What—?”

“Touya. My real name. It’s Touya.” He tells you breathlessly. “You asked me when we first met what my real name was. It’s Touya. Just call me Touya.”

“Touya.” You test his real name out gently, and a pleased rumble escapes the back of his throat.

“Fuck, it sounds good coming from you.” He tells you, eyes half-lidded. “Really good.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as he closes the gap between you again, pressing his lips to your own, only this time, he’s bolder and allows his hands to wander down your body until they settle on your hips, hot as a brand.

“Shit.” You murmur as you wrap your arms around his neck. Touya chuckles against your lips before tilting his head so his head his mouth is right next to your ear.

“If you want to keep going, just know I’m not going to stop.” He rasps as he squeezes your hips. “I won’t force you, but if you don’t want to then you have to tell me now—”

You cut him off by turning your head and pressing your lips to his again, prompting him to pull you closer until you’re practically straddling his lap.

“Fuck.” He snarls as he shifts and pins you down on his bed. “Here I was trying to be nice. Trying to be good for you, but you had to go and rile me up—”

“Touya.” You whimper as you feel something hard pressing into your inner thigh. “Touya please. Don’t tease.”

“Fuck sweetheart, I know. Don’t worry I’m going to take care of you.” He hisses as he paws at your shirt. “Fucking—take this shit off. I want to see you.”

He helps strip you out of your clothes in record time, and suddenly you find yourself bare before him. You move to cover your exposed breasts but Touya swiftly pins your hands. He doesn’t bother to try and hide his unapologetic gaze as he takes in the sight of your naked body on his bed.

He looks at you as if you’re a work of art, you realize, and he seems to be completely lost in you. You call out to him gently, snapping him out of whatever trance he’s fallen under.

“I can’t believe you’re letting someone like me do this to someone like you.” He admits. “Even after I told you what I am. After you’ve seen what I can do. What I’ve done.” He shakes his head, but his eyes light up as a wicked smirk overtakes his features, allowing his fangs to peak out from under his lip.

“Think you might be as fucked up as me, pretty girl. No woman in their right mind would let a monster like me fuck them after watching me kill their shitbag ex. You’re a sick little thing, aren’t you?” he teases you, but you only shake your head.

“You’re not a monster.” You tell him sincerely. “I don’t think you are.”

Touya only smiles down at you as he touches his forehead to yours. “Think you might be the only person in the world who thinks that sweetheart, but thank you.”

You fist your hand in his bloodied shirt. “Take this off.” You tell him, and for the first time, he hesitates slightly.

“It’s not pretty underneath.” He warns you. “The burns go all the way down.”

You help him out of his shirt in response.

He’s not wrong: his torso is a mosaic of dark purple burns and staples crossing over his shoulders, stomach and back. His legs aren’t much better once you shimmy his pants down his legs, but you couldn’t care less once you see his cock.

It’s beautiful and pale like the rest of his unmarred skin, it’s a good length, and decently thick. The tip is flushed red and you can’t help but swallow in anticipation as he kneels between your legs again. Touya grins as he hovers over you.

“I can hear your heart about to burst out of your chest princess. You might wanna calm down; don’t want you passing out on me.”

“Shut up.” You mumble sheepishly, prompting him to laugh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve—well…”

Touya chuckles at your hesitance. “Me too.” He admits, and for some reason, it makes you feel better. Touya’s eyes rake down your exposed form, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drags his eyes up to your neck. “You smell so good.”

“Do you want to?” you ask breathlessly, turning your head slightly to the side. “I could let you—”

“No, not yet.” Touya murmurs, bending down to kiss you. “Let me try something.”

You don’t get the chance to ask him what he means before he’s bent down between your legs, and licking a long stripe through the middle of your pussy with the flat of his tongue.

You let out a load moan and throw your head back as he begins to lap at your pussy like a man starved, his large hands hold your thighs open as he licks at your center. You whimper and moan as he eats you out with vigor – your cries only increasing in volume as he introduces his fingers to where you need him most.

He starts with one pushing deep into your core, but it isn’t long before he’s adding a second digit, scissoring you open as he eats you out like he’s biting into a ripe fruit, and you feel divine.

It’s not long before you feel yourself teetering on the edge, and you close your eyes as you prepare to fall – only for your eyes to suddenly snap open as you feel something sharp digging into your inner thigh. You bolt up with a gasp only to see your vampire’s fangs buried in the meat of your thigh as he continues to pump his long fingers in and out of you.

Your blood dribbles down his chin as he continues to suck on you – moaning around your leg – and some sick part of your brain thinks it’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. You reach down and fist your hand in his hair, tugging on it slightly and watch his eyes close as he groans something that sounds suspiciously like “harder.”

His fingers brush up against your sweet spot when you tug on the blood-streaked strands again, and you buck up into his hand, causing him to stroke the spot again and again has he drinks your blood. You’re getting light-headed and you can’t tell if it’s from your impending orgasm or the blood loss, before Touya pulls away from your leg, and twists his fingers just right, causing you to fall over the edge with a loud gasp as you feel yourself come undone.

“Fuck me.” You hear Touya snarl, and suddenly he’s looming over you again, caging you in with both his arms on either side of you, mouth dripping red with your blood. He grins down at you sadistically, elongated fangs streaked red with your blood. “That’s so fucking hot.”

You only moan in response as you feel for the puncture wounds he’s left in your thigh, but he swats your hand away as he lines himself in with your entrance. He pins both of your hands above your head with his free hand, and swoops down to press a heated kiss to your neck before slamming himself home – filling you up in one fluid motion.

You feel your back arch off the bed, and your mouth drops open in a silent ‘o’ as you struggle to adjust to his size. Above you, Touya hisses, as he struggles to keep himself in check.

“I can feel you squeezing down on me.” He pants. “You keep doing that, I’m not going to last long.” He warns you, but you shake your head.

“Don’t care. I just—I just want to feel you Touy—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s moving within you. His movements are deep and deliberate, leaving your breathless as he snaps his hips against yours at a brutal pace. He’s relentless, almost as if he’s trying to make a home for himself in your depths. You notice that his pupils are dilating and shrinking rapidly as he struggles to hold himself back break completely breaking you.

“Fuuuck.” The white-haired vampire groans as he slides his hand down to your hip, holding you in place as he pounds into your gummy walls. “You’re perfect. I knew you would be. I wanted you. I wanted you from the moment I smelled your blood. I’m glad I didn’t—” he cuts his ramblings off, and buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as you moan his name.

You feel his fangs ghosting along your neck, and it brings you back to reality. You weakly tap at his hand holding both of yours prisoner with your fingers, and he quickly releases you. You opt to wrap your arms around his burnt neck – being mindful of the staples holding his skin together – trying to keep him as close as possible, as his other hand finds your free hip, and grips you hard enough that you know you’ll have handshape bruises by the time you’re done.

But that doesn’t matter, not when he’s trying his damnedest to rearrange your insides.

“I’m close.” You murmur in his burnt ear, and he grunts in acknowledgment.

“Me too.” He rumbles, pressing his warm body to yours. “Need you to come for me doll. Need to feel it—” he sneakily reaches down to rub at your clit, and that does you in. 

You come with a choked scream and he follows you with an almost feral snarl. You feel his cock twitch and are rewarded by the warm stream of his dead seed deep within you. It’s too much stimulation, and you try to move away, but he follows you, holding you down with his body weight. You feel the press of his fangs like a whisper against your neck, but he doesn’t bite down, much to your surprise.

You stay glued together for what feels like an eternity, only for him to pull out of your body with a huff and flop down next to you on his bed. He doesn’t go far though, and opts to pull you close to his scar-ridden body so you’re practically laying on top of his chest; not that you mind though.

It’s funny, now that you’re so close to him – it’s only now that you realize he doesn’t have a heartbeat.

It should be concerning. It should have you running for the hills. You should be panicking at the knowledge of the literal undead roaming around, draining unsuspecting victims of their life blood – and while you’re still not sure what to think of the last part – you also know the vampire next to you wouldn’t hurt you. He’s protected you in his own gory way, and while you know you probably shouldn’t; you feel safe around him.

You trace the seams of his scars, and feel him hum contentedly in the back of his throat as he shifts you slightly against him. Peering at the dark window coverings, you can see the faint traces of dawn light trying to break through. Touya follows your gaze through heavily lidded eyes.

“Guess you’re staying here doll; I’m not going out in that. I’ll take you home later.”

“What, so you can make me do the walk of shame in front of your roommates?” you ask him, causing him to laugh.

“They won’t say anything. Not if they don’t want to get turned to ash.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and flashes his fangs at you, glinting wickedly in the low candle-light. You tap them hesitantly.

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Bite me. You could’ve.”

“Your leg says otherwise sweetheart.”

“Not that.” You brush him off. “I mean my neck. I know you wanted to. I could feel you.”

Touya exhales loudly through his pierced nose. “I did.” He admits. “The problem is, if I did, I probably wouldn’t stop.”

“Ah.”

You lapse into silence for a moment more, before you go back to tracing seams of his broken skin. “Can you turn people? Into what you are?”

He only nods, closing his eyes gently. “I can.” He confirms. “Never done it before though. Never had the need or want to.”

You feel your heart speed up in your chest, and you know he must be able to hear it as you force yourself to ask; “What would you do, if I asked you to turn me one day?” Touya only chuckles.  

“I’d turn you into my own personal thrall. Keep you by my side.”

“Oh, so like some sort of slave?” you tease weakly, but Touya only shakes his head with a slight grimace.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a Dracula’s Bride sort of arrangement actually. I wouldn’t put you through the shit I went through when I first turned.”

The implication hangs heavy in the air between you, but he doesn’t make a move to take it back. You twist and prop yourself up on your elbow so you’re looking him dead in his eyes, only to see he’s deadly serious, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

“You mean that?”

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” he tells you gruffly, placing one of his large hands on your head and pushing you back down to his chest. “Don’t ask me shit like that unless you’re actually serious though. It’s a one-way street. The change is permanent. You’re this forever.” He warns you.

He must see the hesitation in your eyes, because his voice softens, and the hand that’s currently holding your head down switches to lightly combing through your hair.

“Live your life for now sweetheart. My offer still stands: If you really want to toss your mortality out the window. I’ll be the one to take it from you. But for now, just think about it. You can give me your answer when you’re ready.”

“…and what if I decide I’m never ready?”

Touya chuckles. “Then you’ll have my undead ass as a boyfriend when you’re an old lady up until the day you die.”

“A boyfriend huh?” you tease, grinning up at him softly. He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I just told you I’d make you my thrall, that’s all you’re getting from me pretty girl.”

“You basically said you’d make me your wife. Dracula’s bride, remember?”

Touya rolls his eyes, and you swear you see the faintest dusting of pink flash across the parts of his cheeks that aren’t brunt, but it’s gone as soon as it came, prompting you to giggle, and you both fall into a comfortable silence.

He squeezes you once after a heartbeat. “I’d take care of you, you know; if you wanted me to turn you. I’ll take care of you now, but I’ll look after you if and when you decide you want me to change you. You know my secret so you’re stuck with me now. It’s not like I can let you go. You don’t have a choice.”

You laugh in spite of yourself and snuggle closer to him. “I could think of worse things.”

“You say that now…”

“and I’ll mean it later.” You tell him as you reach up to stroke the burnt flesh of his jaw. “Really, I do.”

You feel Touya press a light kiss to the crown of your head, “Yeah I know.” He confirms, murmuring into your hair. “Now, sleep. I’ll take you back to your place once the sun has set. We’ll figure out what to say to your landlord about the scorch marks I left behind. Worse comes to worse, you can just move in here with me.”

You feel your eyelids droop at his words and you snuggle into his burnt flesh, trying your best not to apply any more added pressure to the sutures keeping him together, as you feel his arms settle at your waist, keeping you close to him.

You weren’t sure what the future held for you now, but you were sure that whatever it decided to throw your way, your vampire wouldn’t be far behind you.  

FIN

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X GN-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Learning To Get Along

A/N – So, a user on A03 suggested the snake servants’ new names. It was a stroke of genius on their behalf, and I can only thank them for it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

FEMALE VERSION HERE

MALE VERSION HERE

Tag-List: @reverse-soe @x-uno

Do you think you can manage that? Lucifer’s words hung in the air, creating an icy barrier between you.

So, Lucifer thought himself too good for low-life Sinners such as yourself. That wasn’t fair. Sinners might be in Hell for a reason, but sometimes such reasons were just fucking stupid. Heaven ought to base their entry requirements on a person’s character or strength of heart, not just their actions. You had met plenty of Sinners who were in Hell because of the most trivial shit.

There were those who liked to sleep around, but if sex positivity was a problem, then how did Heaven explain Angels like Adam, whom Charlie had told you about in excruciating detail. Lust shouldn’t have ever been considered a Sin, as long as all participants in any such carnal act were above age and consenting.

Then, there were a few murderers you knew. Granted, murder made the lines blurry, but some Sinners killed in self-defence, or only targeted others such as themselves, protecting the innocent in a very gruesome Dexter-like fashion. Were they really to be condemned? And who the fuck gave a damn about Sloth. So, some people were just bone idle, who gave a shit? Heaven apparently.

And now, the ruler of Hell was condemning those around him as well. He was supposed to care for his people, good or bad. Not to mention those who were solely created for or born in Hell, such as Imps, Hell-Hounds, or the Deadly Sins themselves; they hadn’t committed any crimes to get sent here originally – it was their home.

Your eyebrows furrowed, creating an annoyed crease along your forehead.

“No,” You told Lucifer, who stared at you incredulously.

No? Didn’t you understand the situation? He was Lucifer. King of Hell. He could destroy you with no effort spared, leaving no trace that you ever existed, and you were telling him no? He wasn’t an unreasonable guy, but how could you possibly think that being around him was a good idea? Did you respect Charlie more than you feared him? Granted, he didn’t go out much so few knew how powerful he was, but no other Sinner would dare deny him his wishes.

You saw the look he was giving you and decided to explain yourself.

“Look, I’m only here ‘cos Charlie thought it was a good idea, and if you genuinely hate me, I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again, but you’re not even trying right now. You haven’t spoken to me. You don’t know anything about me, and frankly, I think Charlie’s right, you do need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t-” Lucifer started.

“You don’t even know why I’m down here,” You interrupted angrily, though you refrained from raising your voice. “And you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same. Ooh, we squandered your gift of Free Will and now we deserve to suffer for eternity, do we? Grow up!”

Lucifer stared at you in astonishment, and you sighed, apparently not finished in your tirade, “I’m going to my room tonight, but tomorrow, I expect that you’ll at least try to tolerate me. Who knows? We might even find some common ground. We both love Charlie, don’t we?”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say to that. He certainly loved his daughter, more than anything else in the universe, but you? He still suspected that you had some kind of ulterior motive… everyone in Hell did. Yet, you had a point. He would do this for her, even if it meant he had to tolerate you.

Who were you, really?

He looked at you closely for the first time, trying to pick out some detail of who you might have been. It was even more disturbing than he previously thought. Before, he only saw a human. Now, he examined your clothes. There was little to say about the style, but your apparel was reminiscent of a Holy Animal. With the ruffled cuffs of your jacket, the way the back peaked to create the image of feathers, and the yellow ribbon that lined the white material, you looked like a dove.

Yet… Despite living in the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie had insisted that you didn’t seek redemption. Why go through the farce of dressing like an Angel then… unless? No, you couldn’t be. No Angel would dare stray from Heaven unless they were ordered to.

Lucifer held back a glower, trying to keep his emotions in check so you wouldn’t sense his thoughts. There was a possibility, though small that you had been sent by the likes of Adam to spy on Lucifer and his kin, ensuring that none of Charlie’s patrons ever found a way to the Pearly Gates.

Well, it wouldn’t take long to uncover your ruse. Lucifer had ways of telling an Angel from a Demon, and once you were asleep, he would know.

“Yeah,” Lucifer said evenly. “I love my Charlie.”

“So, you’ll try then.”

Lucifer nodded his head in consent.

“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

The sentiment went unreturned as your King returned to his chambers, biding his time until you slept.

When you returned to your room, you got ready for bed. The day had been long and unusual. Honestly, you didn’t feel that you had a place in the manor, and you longed for your room in the Hotel, even if it was smaller, had a large stain on the carpet (which Nifty had named Vivienne) and an unruly infestation of roaches.

In the short time you had spent there, it had become home.

You would miss the arguing inhabitants, the energetic wake-up call from Charlie, the feeling of safety that Vaggie instilled, and the sound of Alastor’s morning and evening radio broadcasts. Yet, you hoped you might find something equally valuable in return if only Lucifer would open himself up to the possibility that you didn’t want anything from him.

After glancing out of your window, which had a balcony you could step out to if you so wished, you took in the whole of the Magne District which was the heart of Pentagram City. If you strained your eyes, you could just see the flashing neon of the Hazbin Hotel, and if you turned your gaze up… There was Heaven, out of reach yet always in sight, taunting most Sinners, yet emboldening a brave few who dared to wonder What If? What if they could change and gain admittance to a better life?

You sighed and dared not ponder further when you needed to get some sleep.

Throwing yourself on the plush bed, you got comfortable, arranging yourself how you liked, then leaning over to your bedside table, you blew out the cherry candle you had previously lit.

You rested your head atop the satin pillows, then frowned, feeling a lump beneath it. You reached under and pulled out a rubber duck, painted to look like a Hellhound-Duck hybrid. Assuming it was one of Charlie’s childhood toys, you placed it carefully atop the table; it would keep you company on your first night in a strange new place.

Lucifer waited till the late twilight hours before leaving his workshop. He transformed himself into a snake, slithering silently through the Hallways, ensuring that you wouldn’t hear him coming.

Before being cast out of Heaven, detecting an Angel would have been a simple task. He would just know, the way he now knew how to read a Demon. Yet, with you giving off little sign of Demonic energy, he now had to test if you were of Angelic origin. There were two ways he could do so. The first was by spilling your blood. Those who were born in or sent to Heaven had golden ichor instead of the oozing red or black goop of Hell-spawn and Sinners.

However, not wishing to alert you to his presence, Lucifer decided to opt for the other method.

Once he was inside your room and certain that you were in a deep slumber, he reverted to his original form, standing over you, his pupils turning to slits at the thought of a traitor in his house. If you were what he thought you to be, he would kill you immediately.

He pulled a small yellow twenty-sided stone from his pocket and baring his fangs in anger, he pressed it lightly against your skin.

Nothing happened.

Lucifer’s expression changed from one of deep-seated loathing to confusion. You weren’t from Heaven. If you were, the stone would have glowed a brilliant shade of Gold. Instead, it remained its original dull yellow.

Very well.

He would keep his word and… Tolerate you.

He left your room as quietly as he had entered it. Tomorrow, things would be different.

Lucifer didn’t sleep that night; the idea of change was terrifying.

The next morning, when Lucifer finally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to face you eventually, he headed downstairs, assuming that was where you were.

“JUST TRY IT!” He heard you yell. “TRY! OPEN YOUR MOUTH, DAMN IT!”

“Uh…” Was all he could think to say as he entered the kitchen and found you clinging to one of the snake cleaners he had created the previous night, in a rodeo-like fashion. The creature was trying to buck you off, with a somewhat derpy expression, probably stupidly assuming it was a game; Lucifer hadn’t bothered to instil them with much intelligence since he didn’t need them for anything more than cleaning.

“ARGH!” You grunted as you were dislodged from its back.

“What- What is this?” Lucifer asked, confused.

“Oh shit!” You cursed, embarrassed to have been caught in a less-than-dignified position. You attempted to regain a little composure by standing up, then held up a handful of wadded-up pancake.

“Do they eat?” You demanded, referring to the reptilian cleaners, “’Cos they’ve been in a picture frame their whole lives, and they must be hungry by now.”

Of all the stupid things you could have done, Lucifer couldn’t help but crack a smile, though he had the decency to hide his laugh behind a clenched fist and pass it off as a cough.

“They don’t need to.”

“Okay, but can they?”

“If they wanted to, I suppose so.”  

You glared at the mushed-up pancake, “I fucking knew it. Spick, Span, eat your fucking breakfast!”

“I’m sorry, who now?” Lucifer asked.

“Well, they clean, don’t they? Spick and Span seem to fit unless you have something better to name them.”

Lucifer chuckled, a half-short-lived chuckle, but one all the same. You were more chaotic than he expected.

“Fine, if you want them to eat, you’ve got to cook in style.”

He waved his hands energetically, his outfit transforming from his usual suit to one befitting a flashy Michelin Chef. He was comfortable in the role of an entertainer as he made a dazzling display of cooking up eggs. With the flash-bang of indoor fireworks, the island counter gained a conveyor belt to transport several dishes, all perfectly presentable and giving off a delectable aroma of herbs and spices.

Eggs-benedict, frittatas, and shakshuka shot by you, closely followed by a hungry Span, though his twin was busy writhing on the conveyer belt, trying to get to his feather duster, yet doomed to chase it since he didn’t think to travel in the opposite direction so it would meet him in the middle.

The sight was memorable to say the least, even when Spick knocked the food onto the floor and his brother was left stupidly sucking on the corner of the countertop where his seemingly new favourite dish had splattered.

You couldn’t help laughing.

“See?” You struggled to get the words out, “I knew they’d like food. I’m just a shite cook.”

Lucifer gazed at his dishes proudly, even though they were no longer fit for either of your consumption.

“Hah,” You said, feeling somewhat awkward now that the moment had passed and Lucifer’s gaze was upon you, trying to figure you out. “I’ll uh, clean this up.”

“No need, leave it to Flim and Flam,” Lucifer said nonchalantly.

“You know that’s not their names.”

“Whatever. So… we’ve met, there was breakfast with a show. We done for today?”

The smile fell from your face as you realised that all of this was just another of Lucifer’s acts. Granted, he might have actually had fun with it, but it was all just in the name of claiming he had tried to be around you, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“I don’t know. I was going to go into the City if you wanted to come.”

“I can’t. I have… plans.”

Lucifer’s mood soured as he thought about visiting Heaven’s embassy to set up the meeting for Charlie. He hated everything about that building. The décor was just a cruel reminder of everything Heaven had banished him from. Moreover, while the Angels had to respect his power, they didn’t respect him; their cruel words and thinly veiled insults always cut him the deepest. Not to mention how bitter he was that the balance of power was uneven. Sure, Heaven had an embassy in Hell, but there was no such building in Heaven where Demons could work to arrange meetings between Angels and him.

It would always be Lucifer going to their building, on their terms, usually at their behest.

“Plans? So, you’re setting up Charlie’s meeting today?” You guessed astutely. “You know, I’m walking that way too.”

Lucifer guessed at your game. You probably hadn’t been going in that direction at all, but this was all in the name of ‘trying’. One way or another, he would have to learn to get along with you.

“Fine. Let’s go,” He said, flicking his hand back blasély, even though he found the idea of walking the streets of Hell daunting.

It would be better if he could teleport there, but at least, by the end of the day, you would have something positive to report back to Charlie.

[mppmaraudergirl]

20 Q's for Fic Writers

Thank you to the incredible @wearingaberetinparis for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on A03? 36 public and 18 hidden away.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 955,789. Let's see if we can get to 1m!

3. What fandoms do you write for? Harry Potter, specifically the Marauders era/Jily.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? The Wedding Ring, The Reckless Now, Chasing Life, in retrograde, and The Road Back to You.

5. Do you respond to comments? Usually! It takes me more time than I'd like. I tend to answer comments on a chapter as I'm nearing the completion of the next chapter, little quirk of mine.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Generally I don't have angsty endings, but by its very nature (only one lives AU), the answer is Remarkable. (for now)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Geez this is a toss up between The Wedding Ring and in retrograde but I think IR earns it a bit more after everything I put them through.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not usually, no.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do. Throbbing and quivering and generous partners smut obviously.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Nope. Anything not Jily I'm writing is original work.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I know of!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yep I have! It's a shit ton of fun to create a story with someone you absolutely vibe with! I'd be open to doing more. High rec.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Jily. They are my comfort ship.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Ha, there are too many to name. It's looking like The Reckless Now is gonna fall under this category though. 🥴

16. What are your writing strengths? I think banter has always been a strong point. I've been told I do a decent job at writing flawed but likeable characters and romance in my stories.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Repetition.. something I think (hope) is mostly attributed to writing about the same two characters so much. I'm also not very good at including details (locations, clothing, food, those sorts of things) and have to really work at it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? No thoughts? Go for it.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Harry Potter. My first fic was a fix-it fic for the end of OOTP. I did not cope with Sirius' death well.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? This is a toss up between in retrograde and Chasing Life, both of which I've read some of fairly recently and love for different reasons. IR might win though.

No pressure tagging @possessingtheproperspirit @annabtg @blitheringmcgonagall @theresthesnitch @arianatwycross @kay-elle-cee @charmsandtealeaves and anyone else who wants to do this.

[pinkrelish]

20 Questions for Fic Writers Game | thank you for the tag @jo-harrington!

1) How many works do you have on A03? - 11

2) What's your total AO3 word count? - 521k+

3) What fandoms do you write for? - currently stranger things, but i used to write for naruto too.

4) What are your top five fics by kudos? - the "yes" policy, i tripped and fell in love with you, one of us has got to change, temptations too sweet to resist, once upon a coronation.

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? - yes! all of them: ao3, tumblr, wattpad, ffnet. the only exception is if someone comments *way* long after the chapter is out and i see the notification while in bed but by the time i've done my morning routine, i've forgotten to reply. 💀

6) What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? - wish you were here in it's unfinished state, probably. for finished fics, there's a blurb for obito where he catches feelings and it ends messily.

7) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? - i'm a sap, so all my endings are cheesy lovefests tbh.

8) Do you get hate on fics? - nope!

9) Do you write smut? If so, what kinds? - yes. slowly. it's my least fav to write, but also most important to me as a romance writer to include and have it be meaningful. it's usually soft, with lots of feelings. and way too much description.

10) Do you write crossovers? -nah.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? - lol yeah.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated? - not that i know of!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? - nope. not my thing. i don't get along well with others.

14) What's your all time favorite ship? - me and the fictional boy i have a crush on.

15) What's a WIP that you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? - the vampire!eddie / bed and breakfast / beauty and the beast / romcom + enemies to lovers wip. i add details here and there, but who knows if i'll actually write it all out like it is in my head.

16) What are your writing strengths? - no idea, really.

17) What are your writing weaknesses? - perfectionism paralysis. it leads to beautiful paragraphs, but a single paragraph will take me upwards of ten hours to get juust right, and then i wake up the next day and think of a different punctuation structure that works better, and then after publishing i realize it would've made more sense if i remembered other vocabulary word and used it in a sentence instead, and now all my big brain writer friends who write immaculate 5k+ chapters in a single day are cringing at my word choice and judging me.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? - translations at the end of the chapter are nice, but hopefully it should have enough context around it that i can guess/assume what it means. that is to say, i don't have strong feelings one way or the other if it's included or not!

19) First fandom you wrote for? - yu-gi-oh or naruto.

20) Favorite fic you've written? - the "yes" policy.

[heartofspells]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tags, @brandileigh2003 @tracingpatternswrites & @mycupofrum!

Username: heartofspells

1. How many works do you have on A03?

96, all of them HP except for one lonesome Supernatural fic

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

1,685,584

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Harry Potter, though I've dabbled in a few others, only one fic of which is still available for Supernatural

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

At the Healing Edge of Broken

Prick the Craving, Watch it Seep

Multiplying Parents

How to Succeed in Business

The Tying of Canines

5. Do you respond to comments?

I used to. Hardly ever anymore, and unfortunately, I've got solid reasons for that. I will respond to them if someone asks a question that legitimately needs answering or similar. And while I maybe don't respond to them anymore, I do read every single one multiple times. I love comments, and I'm so grateful for everyone who takes time out of their lives to leave them for me <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ah...heh. That's really not an easy question to answer for me. I guess, coming from a personal stance, knowing everything I put into it and the build up that led to then ending, I'd have to say Wasteland. That's the one that's still lingering with me to this day.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

That's also hard to answer, because as much as I love flooding my fics with angst, I have a lot that end very happy or hopeful. Narrowing it down to longer fics with more character arc throughout, I'd probably say This Way We Fall because it leaves them on such a high note after all the struggle.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Unfortunately, yes, but that's part of it, I guess. I've become better at ignoring it.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, but at the end of the day, it's mostly just typical smut when I look at it, though I do have a few kinkier ones scattered in there (ceiling smut, er...inter-species stuff). There's also the...not entirely nice stuff when it comes to smut as well simply because I like exploring all aspects of most everything.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Haven't so far. Doubt I ever will, but you never know.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of. I hope not.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have! I co-wrote Family on the Mend with @tracingpatternswrites and it was so much fun! I'd love to co-write more fics in the future!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

It's gonna have to be Wolfstar just because that's where my heart has rested for years, but there are others that run as close seconds.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh god. YOU. It's not posted anywhere, still only exists in my docs, but I'm convinced that fic will haunt the rest of my life.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I always struggle with questions like this, but that also means I've spent a lot of time thinking about it over the years. I think, mostly based on reactions I've had and what other people have said, that I'm quite good at capturing heavy and deep emotions, hopefully enough to not only grip a reader, but to plunge them into the heart of a scene and make them feel those emotions as well.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Details? There are times I think I'm terrible at this, and not just in fiction writing. It's in everything. Something might exist in my head, and I sometimes manage to forget that not everyone can see my exact thoughts and know what I'm thinking, so I leave important bits and pieces out of things and explanations that only end up confusing people - or worse, makes me seem not so great in general simply because I forgot the inclusion of a very important point when it mattered most.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'm not against it, though it's not something I generally do because I don't know any other languages and that's a risky game to play. I'll only include it if I've spoken to someone who speaks that language fluently and has agreed to translate for me. But having other languages in a fic is a wonderful thing, especially if you're trying to include other cultures, though speaking as someone who has to rely on things like Google Translate that aren't always accurate, included translations are always appreciated.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

This changes constantly for me. I'm not sure how it couldn't. I love most of the fics I've written, and it's like choosing a favorite child sometimes. However, I think right now I'd have to say it's a toss up between CRuSH (i'm just so proud of this one) and Multiplying Parents (also very proud, and this one was so much fun and makes me grin every time i think about it).

Open tag! Because I'm very late to this and I've got the feeling most everyone has done this by now.

[monikafilefan]

20 Questions for Fanfic Writers

Tagged by @slippinmickeys <3

1. How many works do you have on A03?

75 (maybe one day I’ll reach 100?)

2. What’s your total A03 word count?

589,435

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Basically just txf fandom but I have dabbled in GoT, The Fall, and Sex Ed.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Five Years and a Lifetime

Only One Choice

All Eyes Lead to the Truth co-written

Together

Language of Love: Prompts of Angst and Romance

5. Do you respond to comments?

I absolutely do, just not every one of them. Unfortunately A03 counts author responses as comments and that bugs me, but I wholly appreciate any and all feedback!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh damn. Probably a chapter in my prompts collection called That Night in 2014 when Scully left, and one called Bone Deep set post Tithonus are angsty enough. I love writing angst, but prefer to leave my fic on less of a dreary note.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ha it turns out I write a lot of fic with happier endings, but I guess Brother Bill ended very happily considering it was during the cancer arc. There’s plenty more I could’ve chosen though.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I know of.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what?

Yes, I mix it up. Lots of soft, sensual sex, but also some downright dirty smut too. Depends on the tone of the story.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I wrote one where Mulder and Scully go see Jean Milburn from Sex Education and have a therapy session. Coming Undone. It’s ridiculous and funny and was way too fun to write haha!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of but I hope not.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes but I can’t remember which one 🫣

13. Have you ever co-written before?

YES many times and I love it. I’ve written with several amazing writers @cultureisdarkbeer @admiralty-xfd @fridaysat9 @gaycrouton @slippinmickeys one several different fics.

14. What’s your all time fave ship?

MSR ofc! I do also love Jamie/Claire and Stella/Reed.

15. What WIP you want to finish?

I have this Unruhe fic that isn’t even that long but I cannot seem to fucking finish it for the life of me. I will eventually though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Details? Creating a scene and capturing the characters as close to THEM as I possibly can comes easier to me than other things.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Probably dialogue and writing longer novel length fics.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I want to dive into the Outlander fandom very badly but I’m too scared to try Gaelic/accents and be happy with the outcome. Maybe one day.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

X-Files! I was just a wee 15yr old on my dialup desktop trying to write a post FTF fic on the original XF storyboards. I never did finish it past the second chapter.

20. Fave fics you’ve written?

I have a few I really love, but I am kind of hard on myself as a writer. I enjoy writing but can’t seem to reread my own stuff and come away beaming about it. The ones off the top of my head I’m proud and have not mentioned above of are A Life to Remember - an AU were Mulder and Scully are doctors and meet under interesting circumstances. Lots of UST, angst and family fluff as they flashback to their past on how they met.The Things They Say in the Dark is another one I love. It has angst, lots of hurt/comfort (not to mention Scully washing Mulder’s hair post Amor Fati) and serious yearning! Honestly love these two so feel free to check them out if you haven’t, I’d be blessed if you loved them too!

Tagging @today-in-fic and anyone else who wants to join in. This was fun!

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged on this by @unexpectedstormy ! I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to respond like it was a chain or make my own post, so I just went for it

1. How many works do you have on A03?

Two. There will be more coming, because Blood Drops on Roses is just arc one of this story, and there's a lot of snippets for Prologue floating around.

Blood Drops on Roses: Linked Universe

BDOR Prologue: The Yiga and The Sheikah

2. What's your total A03 word count?

51,493 words since mid-August, when I finally got an account XD I've been a lurker for YEARS ya'll.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Linked Universe only, so far.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

See above XD I hope to get enough fics out there that I can sort my work like that, but for now it's just those two.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, I respond as soon as I can, they are like crack to me. Maybe because I'm new to sharing my work or something, but I would die for each and every one of you that leaves even as much as a <3

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

NONE OF MY FICS ARE FINISHED YET AAAAAAAAAA. Arc 1's ending is going to be pretty angsty though.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hm, I see that this questionnaire is not meant for me. There is a Prologue section "The Trap" that I'll be putting out soon through, its ending is pretty sweet I would say.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet. I am afraid that it's gonna happen, but so far everyone has been so nice, so I hope not D:

9. Do you write smut?

Nah. Don't really read it either. Just not my thing.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I mean unless you count LU as a crossover between all the Link's respective fandoms, no

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Gosh I hope not. How does one steal a fic?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. If I ever get good enough at Spanish, I would like to take a crack at translating my own fic once its all published, but it would probably be laughably terrible. Eh, practice is practice.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet. Hey @needfantasticstories, I think Clippy Wind and Pug Sky need to go on some adventures together, don't you?

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Tbh I don't really ship. I do think Malon/Time and Legend/Ravio are cute though. I'm just not really interested in exploring the romantic side of stories, even in published literature.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Geez I hope that I finish all of Arc 2 at this point. But I may be too early into the game to answer this.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Heck if I know. I had someone say in my comment section that they liked how I characterize people, so we'll go with that.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I write too much and probably in too much detail. Sometimes it would be better to say "They crossed the bridge and set up camp" but nooooooooooo lets add 7,000 words to this already bloated fic.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Italics. I was about to whip out my decade of Latin for part of this fic, but I decided against it because I'm pretentious but not that pretentious. Also because I still don't understand word order at ALL.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Now that I'm thinking about it, I think I have some fanfic from the dog series of Warrior Cats lurking somewhere that I wrote when I was like 12. Survivors, or something? I should probably go delete it, I'm sure it's trash. I'm scared to even look, it probably hasn't seen the light of day since I wrote it.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Well I've only got one big fic out right now so let's go with BDOR

@needfantasticstories and @somer-writes I'm kicking this your way.