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httpsserene · 3 months

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Gosh please please please can you write something daniel x reader maybe inspired by too sweet by hozier when he thinks(some internal turmoil cuz he can't stay away from her) she's too sweet/innocent for him or something like but it turns out to be further from the truth?? I love love love your writing, i think about please's and thank you's at least three times a day since i read it. You're so immensely talented!!!

I'd really really appreciate it.

(i don't mind age gap(like up to 10years), some kinky smut or even a bit of morally grey characters as long as there are no explicit mentions of past relationships or cheating and etc., happy ending plss, and I won't mind if you add a pinch of "who did this to you")

Ly ly ly

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐓𝐒𝐀

Summary: She’s too pure for him. She hasn’t been damaged by life like he has and he hopes you never will be. So, that’s why Daniel can never allow himself to be with her. He knows she’s convinced herself that she can fix him, but he knows that the longer he sticks around, the more he’s ruining her. He finds it cynical: their relationship (or lack of a relationship) reads like one of the books she’s obsessed with: right person wrong time or forbidden love. Daniel learns that it might be a little darker of a trope—like one of her books that she never allows him to see a page of. Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. implied sexual content. mild!yandere!reader. stalking. sabotage. angst with a happy ending. lando and max are here. not edited at all. mentioned alcoholism. pov switch. fights? idk danny gets his ass beat. possessive!reader. can you find the hozier inspo in here? probably. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader (black-coded? but not mentioned in the fic, i think) Word Count: 2.7k words.

Author’s Notes: okay! this is past me (6/11) hoping that the tumblr queue doesn’t do me dirty! this should be posted on thursday, because i won’t be able to manually post it on my own as i’ll be hiking in san diego the whole day :p

this was formatted on mobile so please ignore how ugly it looks :( and also ignore the ugly writing i’ve never written dark/morally gray characters so i’m pretty sure i did your request like terribly LMAO. um also i couldn’t find a way to write smut into it? so again i apologize for that :/

anyways, please bare with me. i’ll make it pretty when i get back to my computer…on sunday 🥴

prev 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

Daniel meets you in the elevator. At first, he thought you were a Formula One fan who snuck into the condo trying to get a glimpse of your favorite driver (himself, obviously) but, he learned that you’re his new next-door neighbor. It was awkward; he accused you of following him to his room and felt like the world’s worst person when you—dressed in the cutest pink dress and matching flowy bow tied in your hair—stared at him terrified, before you unlocked the door to your flat and slammed the door behind you quickly without a word.

He sent you a bouquet of pink orchids the next morning, along with a hand written card apologizing for his rude behavior and that he hoped the two of you could become good neighbors and friends. It seemed all was fixed, as the next time he ran into you, you greeted him softly, like nothing had happened. It was 5 A.M: you were starting your day and Daniel was ending his night.

Daniel was on his third drunken attempt of shoving his key vaguely in the direction of his lock on the door, when you exited your flat with a yoga mat over your shoulder and a water bottle that was comically large. With a hushed ‘good morning,’ you kindly helped Daniel into his apartment, telling him to drink a big glass of water and have pain killers ready when he wakes up; there was no judgment in your wide brown eyes, only tenderness, and a slight hint of worry. He woke up after twelve at the sound of a knock, his head pulsing with pressure and his sight slightly blurry from not quite sleeping all the drunk away.

He eventually made it to his front door and found that you ordered him lunch: a chicken wrap and sweet potato chips, from one of his favorite brunch cafés—Daniel figured you have good taste, as he doesn’t recall ever telling you about this meal in either of the two interactions you’ve had. So, he ate, drank plenty of water, freshened up, and debated if he should go over and express his gratitude, or whatever. He decided he will, and found himself putting on a nice watch and a few too many sprays of his expensive smelling cologne. Daniel didn’t let any thoughts of why he was prettying himself up cross his mind; he’s simply thanking you; a girl far too young, and probably far too sweet for his tastes.

You brushed off his thanks shyly, hidden behind your door with a blush strong enough Daniel saw it paint your dimpled cheeks and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away. Thinking quick enough to rival his reflexes, he offered to exchange phone numbers so the two of you could meet up and he could buy you a coffee. You entered your name in his phone with a yellow heart next to it.

The coffee meet-up had to wait due to Daniel’s hectic schedule, yet the texting flourished. He initiated the beginning of your text thread the next day, mindlessly texting you about how he overheard Emilio (another neighbor) arguing with his wife on the phone; Daniel said she’s probably going to mail him divorce papers within the next week. You replied that it was mean to eavesdrop and gossip. Daniel followed up saying it’s not eavesdropping if said person was screaming into his phone in the hallway, and he wasn’t gossiping, he’s merely keeping you informed.

Daniel laughed in the middle of his motorhome listening to the voice message you sent four days later, eagerly telling him about how you saw Emilio in the lobby with a couple boxes and without a wedding ring on his finger.

It was a warm morning, when you and Daniel finally managed to meet for coffee. You scrunched your nose in distaste when he ordered plain black coffee; Daniel did the same when you ordered a drink that was mainly milk and sugar. Daniel chuckled when you claimed the amount of coffee in your drink had you wired for the rest of the day. He decided to let you believe that, and not inform you that it was most likely the sugar content that had you crashing hours later.

Daniel invited you over for burgers one night and you comment that his home looks like a mix of a “mojo dojo casa house” and a “minimalistic hell.” You gifted him a throw blanket and a potted plant the next day, and continued to text him reminders about watering it.

Around 10 P.M. on another night, he’s yelling at Max for cheating at fifa. Max laughed around the lip of his beer bottle before the two of them paused at the sound of a knock. Daniel checked the door and opened it to see you: fuzzy slippers, eye-mask on your forehead, bonnet, matching pajama set, and pout on your lips with a sleepy tilt to your eyebrows. He apologized for the noise and promised to quiet down. Daniel threatened to kick the Dutchman out when he teased him for having a “crush.” He doesn’t get crushes, he’s a grown man.

Daniel spends less time in night clubs and more time with you. You took him to sip and paint nights, pottery classes, hiking, even bookstores. You order him to not open any of the books he’s holding for you; Daniel tries to take a peek when you scan through one and you slam the book shut, saying it’s too dark for your liking. He doesn’t comment when you end up getting it (Daniel paid).

He kissed you in your apartment, halfway through Howl’s Moving Castle. He proceeded to tell you it was a mistake. You teared up when he said you were too pure for him, arguing back that you weren’t a child. The tears fell when Daniel claimed he’s too old for you, that he’d only hurt you. He returned to his apartment, figurative tail tucked between his legs, and heard you crying through the wall. He fell asleep hating himself.

Daniel distanced himself from you; he misses your shared adventures and condo gossip, but he never forgets to water your potted plant, even without your texts. He fell back into the clubs, bringing home various women but never manages to get them in bed due to various things going wrong. He gets stuck in the elevator with Stephanie who happened to claustrophobic for hours, locked in the stairwell with Sofia who sprains her ankle in five-inch heels, the fire-alarm interrupts him and Kiana just as he unlocks the door, and his kitchen sink burst when he lifted Laura on the counter.

He tries to console Laura, who runs from his flat in drenched clothes, and sees you staring at her in confusion from your doorway as she rushes past. Daniel apologizes for waking you again, and you shrug, ignoring his words, murmuring that he should call maintenance before he floods the entire floor and shutting your door in his face.

Your potted plant starts to wilt, no matter if Daniel moves it in or out of direct sunlight, if he waters it less or more, or if he changes the soil, or adds fertilizer. The universe has it out for Daniel.

He finds himself in an ultra-private lounge, dim-lighting, sultry piano, and dark decor enhancing his dramatics as he reveals how he ruined his life to Max, Lando, and the bartender who will be tipped handsomely for pretending to care. The piano fades to the end of the piece just as Daniel wraps up his lament.

“It sounds like you deserve it, honestly,” Max stated bluntly, Lando nodding agreeably at his side.

Daniel groans into his hands, lifting his head to say that he’s already aware of that, but freezes when he sees you rise from the seat of the piano. Your figure is snug within a floor length, backless, black dress, complemented with gold jewelry, and makeup that opposes your angelic nature. You bow your head slightly in the direction of the tables clapping at your performance, stumbling briefly when your eyes meet Daniel’s. You smile softly and begin to make your way over to him.

“Oh, fuck,” Daniel shrinks into his seat, as the other two drivers stare at him in confusion.

“Hi, neighbor,” you start airily, before turning to smile at Lando and Max, “Hello.”

“You didn’t tell me you worked here,” Daniel mentions.

“You never asked,” you narrow your eyes at him, before relaxing, “I also don’t work here—this is my brother’s bar. The pianist suddenly fell sick and I offered to fill in.”

“Oh,” Daniel hums, “This doesn’t seem like your type of scene.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, “You should know better than to tell me where, what, or who I do or do not belong with.”

“Okay!” Lando claps, kicking Daniel’s shin under the table, everyone ignores his muffled groan of pain, “Sit with us for a minute, if you can take a break. Danny is seriously obsessed with you.”

You take the offered chair next to Max and sigh, “Really? I couldn’t tell,” all three men wince at your dig, but you continue, “Did he tell you that he almost flooded the entire floor last week?”

Daniel watches as you charm his friends, the three of you chattering happily over his demise, and ignoring him as you do so. He can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, only thankful, as this is the first time in weeks that you’ve been in his presence for more than five minutes. You smell so good. Is that weird of Daniel to think?

Unfortunately, the four of you are interrupted far too soon. Your brother calls you over from behind the bar; his expression is less than pleased, jaw tensed with irritation, and Daniel thinks the look in his eyes has a hint of crazy. He wonders if you told your brother about him. Hopefully not—the man looks like he could fold Daniel like a lawn chair without breaking a sweat. The three men watch as you argue with your brother; it doesn’t seem like it’s going in your favor.

Lando calls Daniel’s name, “Mate—she’s good for you.”

“Nah, mate. I’ll only ruin her.”

“Daniel,” Max scolds, “The few months you were ditching us for her were the happiest I’ve seen you. I wasn’t worried that you would be passed out in a random club or yacht after giving yourself alcohol poisoning.”

“She’s sweet, Danny. I think she’s exactly what you need,” Lando adds, “You've convinced yourself that you don’t deserve anything good. She’s trying to prove you wrong and you need to let her.”

He doesn’t answer verbally, he chooses to shake his head and remain silent. You make your way over to the table again and stand in front of them with a pout.

“It’s past my bedtime, apparently,” you huff, turning your head to glare at your brother, “Don’t worry about paying tonight, it’s on the house.” You exchange polite goodbyes with Lando and Max, Daniel gets a soft smile. He watches you leave the bar with a sad tilt to his lips, then orders a shot of whiskey.

You’re sat on your couch, freshly showered and ready for bed. It’s 1 A.M. and Daniel usually doesn’t end his nights out for another hour. So, it makes sense for you to be worried when you see his location nearing your shared condo building an hour early. Did you sneakily (his phone password is his birthday, it wasn’t that hard) use his phone and share his own location with you? Yes. But, you did it with good intentions. You worry about him when he’s not with you.

You decide to go down to the lobby and pretend to ask if you received any packages in hopes of intercepting Daniel when he walks in. You don’t manage to step out of the elevator when you suddenly have an armful of a bruised-up Australian. His lip is busted and you can see a bruise blooming high on his right cheekbone. You start to shake with anger.

Furiously pressing the button of your floor and slamming the ‘close door’ button, you frantically question Daniel, “What the hell? I left you not even two hours ago, and you look like a mess. Did you get into a fight, did you get mugged, did you—“

“Did your brother beat my ass for hurting you?” Daniel groans, not fighting your motions as you tug him out of the elevator and into your flat, “Yes, he did.”

You pause and grumble angrily, forcing Daniel to take a seat on your couch. You rush into your kitchen for ice, then to the bathroom for a first aid kit. He doesn’t fight when you order him to ice his cheek, and lets you hold his face to tilt his head at every angle possible, as if it’ll expose any more damage. Eventually, you end up looking into his eyes, pretending that you have the knowledge to know what a possible concussion looks like, even though you really just wanted an excuse to look at him.

Unconsciously, your thumb rubs soothingly along his temple, Daniel leans further into your hand. His tongue flicks out for a brief second, and he flinches when it disturbs the cut on his bottom lip. Blinking rapidly, you clear the haze from your eyes and frown as you turn to rifle through the first aid kit.

“I can’t believe he put his hands on you,” you bite out angrily, finding a disinfectant cloth to clean his lip, “I don’t know why I tell him anything anymore.”

Daniel winces at the sting of alcohol, remaining quiet as he watches the focus that covers your expression.

“I apologize for him,” you mumble, “He doesn’t think clearly when it comes to me, he thinks he’s like my guard dog or something,” you dispose of the wipe and grab an ointment, “I promise you I told him that the only thing you did was waste my time and hurt my feelings,” Daniel deflates under your hands, “It’s not like you physically hurt me…or anything. He’s just an idiot. I’ll kill him.”

At that, Daniel laughs quietly, dropping the ice from his cheek so you can clean that too, “Don’t say that. You’re such a sweetheart, you couldn’t hurt your own brother. Also—I’m not sure if he hoped this would make me stay away from you, because if you keep rubbing my face like that, I might fall in love.”

You hum, pleased you have him eating out of the palm of your hand, “Have some decorum, Daniel. You sound desperate. Also, he knows that I don’t like people touching what’s mine.”

“Oh? You’re possessive,” Daniel teases, “Is it bad if I kinda like that?”

Your heart flutters, he’s really the best for you. He doesn’t need to know about the lengths you went to ensure any of the girls he tried to bring home didn't make it into his bed. It's a shame Sofia sprained her ankle; that was not intentional on your part.

You shrug lightly, “No, it’s not bad. I think it makes you perfect for me. As long as you don’t mind a little crazy. And—don’t think you’re off the hook. You still have to apologize for making me cry.”

Daniel nods seriously, “I’ll fall to my knees and beg right now, if that’s what it takes.”

Sticking a plaster over his cheek, you stand and gesture for him to do so too, “Okay. Kneel.”

“Huh,” he chokes, eyes wide with disbelief, “You’re serious?”

“If you beg well enough, I’ll let you eat me out.”

The sound of his knees hitting the floor echoes.

2k special taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @mindless-rock @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35 @riveristhebest1 @iloveyou3000morgan @smartstupyd @spideybv28 @lh383 @hiireadstuff @namgification @gg-trini @whatamidoingwithmylife-random @multi-fandom-rando @dreamingofautopia @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @userlandonorris @starfusionsworld @hangmandruigandmav @itsmiamalfoy @ineedafictionalman @everythingabby101 @valent1na-ferrari @dark-night-sky-99 @svinzlec @angelfreckless @sweatrevenge5436-blog @bokutos-babyowl @oliviah-25

#serene’s chapters.#httpss :// 2k special #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo fic #f1 x black!reader #formula 1 x black!reader #formula 1 x reader #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: dr.

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scentedpeachlandcreator · 6 months

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"Frequently Asked Questions About the Law of Assumption”:

what is the law of assumption?

the law of assumption is a law where if you assume something and persist in it, it will harden into fact.

how to manifest?

1. decide what you want to manifest.

2. know that it's yours and that you already have it.

3. persist no matter what and ignore and dismiss the 3d.

can I manifest...?

yes and yes! everything is possible and there's no limit! you can manifest anything you imagine.

but what if I have hard circumstances?

circumstances DOESN'T FREAKING MATTER!! just know that you have it regardless of everything!

but what if I can't afford it? or it is too expensive for me?

DON'T SETTLE FOR LESS! imagination is a powerful tool, don't question “if or but”, you deserve everything and more! just fucking know that you already have it in your imagination.

but what if I have doubts or negative thoughts? will it affect my manifestation?

FUCKING NO!! it doesn't matter as long you already have your desires in your imagination so nothing matters, it won't affect or ruin your manifestation as long as you don't assume so.

what is 3d and 4d?

the 3D: is the outer world that we are currently living in, feeling it with our five senses, touching it, experiencing it.

the 4D: is your imagination, your mental world in your mind.

what is the wish fulfilled?

it is the state of knowing that you already have your desires so you don't look for the 3d for validation and you start living in the end.(read this and this and this)

what is self-concept?

self-concept is how you perceive yourself and the world around you, it is also a formation of beliefs, it also helps you with manifesting and putting yourself on a pedestal.(read this and this and this)

how do I fix my self-concept?

start off with clearing your doubt about manifestation first, secondly start embodying a person who is a master manifester, start acting like the queen you are, know your worth, and thirdly know that you are limitless and nothing is too big for you to manifest.

is manifesting superpowers and other illogical things possible?

FUCKING YES!! EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE AS LONG AS YOU CAN IMAGINE IT!!

can I manifest on a time crunch?

yes, you can, but I don’t recommend doing it because it will create a state of lack and you'll focus on time instead of fulfilling yourself in your imagination.

I'm overconsuming loa what do I do?

stop it, please, get off of Tumblr or any other social media, and start manifesting and applying the law however you want, you know the basics of loa? right then start FUCKING APPLYING AND STOP OVERCONSUMING SO MUCH INFO!! go fucking manifest YOUR DREAM LIFE!! MAKE A CHANGE!!

can I change a person's behavior around me?

yes! You can, first of all, decide how that person's gonna start acting around you. okay now start assuming and persist in the assumption until it hardens into fact and dismiss the 3d.

can I make my crush love me? even my celebrity crush?

yes, you can! it's very easy, first start off by assuming that Sp already does love you and that you are already in a relationship with him/her, live in the end, fulfill yourself in your imagination and persist in the assumption, and dismiss the 3d.

can I manifest many desires at the same time?

yes! You absolutely can, if you don't want to list them all one by one, just make a blanket affirmation or you can even say a random word with the intention it gonna manifest all your desires.

for example the word "cinnamon roll" = your list of desires.

what is revision?

"Revision" refers to changing a past event or action that has already occurred. However, it's important to remember that the past and future only exist in our minds. Therefore, it is possible to change anything from the past and you will manifest it the same way you would manifest your desires normally.(read this and this and this and this)

can you manifest for me, please? can you enter the void state for me, please🫸🏻🫷🏻😓?

FUCKING NO!!! DO IT YOURSELF!! NO ONE IS GOING TO DO IT FOR YOU!! START APPLYING INSTEAD AND BE DISCIPLINED!!

but I can't enter the void...I tried everything and every method and it didn't work!

ASSUMPTIONS MANIFEST!! GET THIS THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULLS!! personally, I realized that assumptions are what manifest because, after 2 years of trying to enter the void state, I woke up in it with JUST A FUCKING ASSUMPTION! NO METHOD!! NO MEDITATION !!NO FUCKING BULLSHIT!! THE METHOD IS NOT THE ONE THAT IS GOING TO HELP YOU ENTER THE VOID STATE BUT THE KEY IS YOU!! IS SELF!!

#law of assumption #𓍢🌷᭝۪﹗eli's archives #loa #loa tumblr #loa blog #how to manifest #law of manifestation

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naffeclipse · 3 months

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Woohoo! I'm opening up writing commissions! My job slows way down in the summer and I need a little cash, however, I want to make this clear: this is not replacing the usual writing that I regularly post. I will continue to write stories and share them. This is a way to earn money while continuing to do what I love.

I will be taking commissions on a 3-slot round basis as indicated on my Ko-Fi. First come. First serve.

Please click on the read more for more information! (I also transcribe my commission info above.)

Word Count - Prices:

1,000 — $25 1,500 — $35 2,000 — $50 2,500 — $60 3,000 — $80

Will Do:

Romance Platonic Love Angst Fluff Hurt/Comfort Mild Violence/Gore/Horror (ask me via Tumblr Ask) Suggestive Themes

Won't Do:

NSFW Incest Hateful, Offensive Themes Minor Romantic Pairings DCA x DCA (i.e. Sun/Moon) (ask me via Tumblr Ask if you're unsure what what counts as 'won't do')

Posting:

I won’t post any commissions on AO3. I will post it to my Tumblr with your permission. I will keep you updated on your commission as needed. You will receive the finished piece via E-Mail or Discord (your preference) in PDF format.

Extra Notes:

Payment is accepted only via Ko-Fi in the commissions tab, then we will discuss your comm on Ko-Fi messages. I will write any DCA in AUs I’ve created (I won’t write Sleuth Jesters Eclipse, but I will write Bloodstain Fool Eclipse, Syzygy in Dedication Sun and Moon, etc.) I won’t write any AUs/DCAs that belong to someone else. Original AUs, monster OCs, monster prompts, and Creature/AU DCAs are okay. Comms will be Second Person POV non-gender specific.

More Notes (Please Read before Commissioning Me):

I will write shipping fics with the DCA, AUs of the DCA (I won’t write any AUs/DCAs that belong to someone else), and Monster OCs! So long as it's a relatively non-human being (e.g. robot, vampire, alien, swamp thing, ghostly entity, mermaid, etc) I'm down to write your scrumptious monster boyfriend/girlfriend.

I also accept prompts if you're unsure of exactly what you want but have an idea for something e.g. 'the reader discovering Mothman on the side of the road' or 'the reader repairing a Ruin Eclipse' or 'the reader with a swamp creature Sun'. I will happily run away with a prompt if you so desire.

My writing commissions are strictly pairing fics (either romantic or platonic).

All fics are written in second-person POV and are strictly non-gender-specific.

I will contact you on Ko-Fi Messages when I am ready to get started with your commission. Please be prepared with your request at the time of purchase.

We will then discuss your request. I will write a detailed outline of what I plan on writing. I will show you the outline, rework it at your desire, and once your approval is given, I will begin writing.

I will deliver your final piece in a PDF format via E-mail or Discord (your preference).

With your permission, I will post your fic to my Tumblr (you can be anonymous if you wish).

Cancellations are not allowed once I begin writing after the outline is accepted. Refunds will not be issued under any circumstances past this point so you need to be sure you're satisfied with the outline before I begin writing!

I ask for your patience, however, if I don’t contact you after 3 days of radio silence without at least an update on my situation/your commission after payment, please feel free to message me on Ko-Fi for an update.

Again, I ask for your patience, however, if I don't contact you after 2 weeks of radio silence after confirming your commission and starting on it, feel free to message me on Ko-Fi for an update.

Lastly, this is my Ko-Fi where you will find the commissions tab. You can also find my Ko-Fi in my pinned post on my Tumblr. Thank you for reading! Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#naff's writing commissions #edit: updated

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epiphainie · 24 days

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i really enjoy your writing and i was curious about what your favourite bucktommy fics are 👀👀

(only if you feel like answering!)

thank you! i feel like i keep reccing the same fics but i adore them a lot sooo... i'll try to mention more this time:

(edit: putting it under read more bc it got really long)

one way trip to the sun by @newtkelly i've read this twice, i adore the writing, the film homages, the nonlinear format. it's made for me

what the agony had been for by @alchemistc honestly, anything by catie but this is one of my fav tommy focused fics and it being by buck's pov is a feature

a promise of forever by @firehose118 i love the flavor of domesticity bucktommy have in this one, it's so comforting

identify me by @kinaaaard i dont know how to explain it but this fic ruined me for some reason

histocompatibility by @rcmclachlan loved it on tumblr, loved it on ao3 again

five ways to fall in love with the man in the mirror by @userautumn i've just read this this morning and it managed to make me cry with its less than 2k words, it's gorgeous

baby, if you think you're able (you need to take this rough medicine) by @dadbodbuck best smut muah

rule four (you were only waiting for this moment to arise) by daisyblaine (idk if they're here) anything with these vibes is made for me honestly, just this liminal piece of character study

an outlier that should not be counted by @dadvans this is a classic to me

old dog new tricks by @watchyourbuck this one makes my brain go brrrrrr age gap smut you will always be famous

mr july by @lazybakerart this is how i aspire to write in buck's pov honestly, his voice is so good here, so buck

jealousy doesn't always come with green eyes by elizabethgee my fav jealousy fic

Versatile by cjr2 (please tag the writers if you know theyre here) i remember this making me laugh out loud

like sun on my skin (so this is love, i know it is) by @buckera im a slut for these types of flash moments on a theme fics and this is so sweet

Awful quiet here since love fell asleep by @cecilyv @liminalmemories21 one thing about me: the first thing i read when i get into a ship is the breakup fics and this is so beautiful my absolute fav

display me by WallabyWhump i think about this all the time, fav smut oneshots top contender

get undressed, leave a mess (worry 'bout it after) by @prettyboybuckley i read this before i watched the show and it changed my brain chemistry, it's so filthy (positive)

#if you know the tumblr @s of the writers lemme know #if anyone wants to be untagged also lemme know #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #fic rec #911 #911 fic #mimi.txt

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kyeomray · 1 year

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rise and go down on him

pairing: kim mingyu x afab reader

content: established relationship, some fluff, slice of life, pwp, smut (18+ MDNI!!!!)

summary: mingyu is the busiest man you know, yet he always finds time to take care of you. so on the one morning he has time to sleep in, you decide to repay the favor. (smut warnings below)

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this is the first fic i’m releasing on tumblr…kinda nervous lol. I realize this concept might be overdone but I thought it was a good place to start and hope I put my own spin on it!! let me know if anything looks wrong with the format and thank you for reading xx

smut warnings: some kissing, dry humping, handjob, oral (m receiving), pet names (baby, babe, slut one time), cum eating, some pussy touching, tbh this is filthy sorry not sorry.

you stir awake as large, warm arms engulf you from behind. smiling sleepily, you bring your hands up to softly rub along the length of them. mingyu grumbles into your hair and you let out a snort at how cute he is. you missed mornings like this.

being an idol, mingyu’s mornings didn’t typically start this freely. he was either up and out the door far before you even even woke up, or so exhausted he slept through most of his off days. you understood - with his grueling and inconsistent schedules - why intimate mornings were such a rare occurrence between the two of you.

despite his lack of time (and often energy), mingyu never neglected to make you happy and totally satisfied in your relationship. if he got food while he was out after practice, he always brought some home for you. he cleaned up after himself no matter how tired he was, knowing how much you didn’t like to do it. if he was too sleepy to dote on you, he would just suffocate you with snuggles until you both drifted off instead. and lastly, he never, ever, left you wanting or needy.

he savored every second of time you had together. his favorite was dragging you to shower with him whenever he got the chance. he would press you against the wet tiles and throw your leg over his shoulder, burying his face into your wet heat until your whole body trembled. he’d bend you over your vanity while you did your morning routine, being careful not to ruin your hair or makeup while he plowed into your cunt from behind. he would even finger you till you cried while you watched movies on the couch if he didn’t have energy for anything else. he always assured you it was okay. he wanted to pleasure you every chance he got. and you were so in love with him for it.

this particular morning, you woke up in a spectacular mood. it’s not often mingyu gets a few days off in a row and it’s definitely not often that you both get to sleep in together. the realization makes your heart flutter, and you bring mingyu’s big hand up to press delicate kisses on his knuckles.

you feel him stir behind you, the evenness of his breathing coming to a stop. he presses his face further into the mess of your hair, inhaling deeply. you giggle slightly at the action, squirming at the warmth.

“good morning, handsome.” you whisper, resuming your stroking of his forcep. he groans quietly behind you.

“mornin’ baby.” mingyu rasps. he still sounds exhausted, and your heart clenches a little. you know he probably won’t want to get up for a while, and not one bit of you blames him or disagrees. you snuggle back into him further, relishing in the way his arms tighten around you.

“missed this so much ‘gyu.” you sigh softly, letting your head fall back to the pillow. “missed waking up with you.”

“me too, angel. c’mere.” mingyu moves his arm away from you and pulls on your hip gently, and you can tell he wants you to turn around.

you do exactly that, shifting your body until you’re facing your boyfriend in his arms. you’re so close that you can feel his soft breath fanning across your face. you beam at him before burrowing your head in the crook of his neck. he smells so warm and good, and you don’t think you ever want to leave this spot.

you love mingyu so incredibly much, and now is one of those times when your whole body is buzzing with that feeling. he always does so much for you, and you want to start doing half as much. making him feel half as loved as he makes you feel (which is still a lot). you can feel the mischievous grin form on your face; you know exactly what to do and you have the time today.

you start off innocent; lifting your head up to place small pecks all over mingyu’s cheeks and nose. his eyes open slightly as a small smirk forms on his lips, and you take that as an opportunity to press your own against them. he immediately melts into you, sighing into your mouth and rubbing his hands along the span of your back.

you hook your arms underneath mingyu’s armpits, moving your hands up to tug softly at the hair on his nape while you lightly suck his lips into your mouth. he groans at the action, and his tongue is immediately prodding at your lips.

you part your mouth, his tongue quickly finding your own and swirling against it. you can’t help the small whine that escaped you when mingyu’s hands find your ass, groping and squeezing the soft flesh shamelessly (and as if he isn’t still half asleep). he chuckles sleepily at your reaction, and you pull back from him briefly.

“you’re kind of a pervert, you know that kim mingyu?” there’s a smile on your face, and mingyu decides to push things a little further, slipping his hands into your underwear and spreading your ass cheeks apart while biting his lip. you gasp, pressing your hips further into him. “forget kind of, you’re a gigantic fuckin’ perv.”

“you do this to me, baby. it’s your fault i’m so horny all the time.” you laugh a little at the pout on his face, and move up to resume kissing him. his mouth is moving hungrily against yours despite the tired state of his body, and it has butterflies erupting deep in your stomach. you yank at his hair again, rougher this time, and attach your lips to the cut of his jaw.

he sighs out when you throw a leg over his hip, essentially laying halfway on top of him. your lips continue their attack on his neck, sucking marks into his soft skin as you roll your hips against him. mingyu is groaning softly, grabbing behind your knee and hauling you even closer to him. your thigh is pressed against something hot and hard when he does so, and an evil grin spreads on your face.

pulling back slightly, you watch mingyu’s face as you slowly trail your hand down his abdomen. the sight before you is kind of hilarious, really. his eyes are still heavy with sleep and his hair is a mess on top of his head, but his cock is raging against you underneath his shorts. you giggle at the sight as your hand reaches its destination.

his breath hitches when you rub your hand over him, stroking the shape of his erection teasingly. you can tell he’s already fully hard, and you squeeze your hand around him firmly just to feel the way his cock pulses in your grip. wetness seeps past the seam of your pussy as you do, and settles on the seat of your panties. you’ve got a long and fun morning ahead of you, you already know it.

“so hard for me already, and I just started touching you, gyu.” slipping your hand under his waistband, you smooth your fingertips over the oozing tip of his cock, relishing in the broken gasp he lets out.

“mm—mhm, y-yeah baby. you make me so hard.” he grunts, and you can tell he’s already gone. already panting as you rub his cock, working him up till he breaks.

“you work so much, baby. let me take care of you today.” you purr against his neck, wetly smooching the flesh there before pushing him to lay fully on his back. his cock stands straight up in his boxers, tenting the fabric almost comically. you work down his body, kissing and licking down his stomach before you reach his crotch.

you decide to tease him further, mouthing his dick over the fabric of his underwear until the material is soaked through. mingyu groans frustratedly, but you can tell he’s still too tired to reprimand you. you continue your ministrations, sucking and licking the covered tip of him till his thighs are trembling and he’s whining above you.

“fuck,” he gasps out when you yank his underwear down just enough so that his cock springs up against his stomach. he’s already leaking so much, and you wrap your fingers around his shaft to feel the weight of him. “p-please,” mingyu manages, tears already welling up in the corners of his eyes. “please don’t tease me baby. n-need you so bad.”

“I’m gonna take care of you gyu, don’t worry. gonna suck on your big cock till you explode.” you emphasize your words by spitting lewdly on his dick, working your hand around him while the wet noises of it fill the room. his body noticeably relaxes into the bed, and that’s when you go to town.

your lips wrap around him, massaging them over his tip before dipping your tongue into his leaking slit. he cries out and his whole body jolts, making you smirk against him. you go back to work, taking him further into your mouth with each bob of your head. his cock is coated in your saliva at this point, and you know this is only the beginning of the mess you two are going to make.

you look up at him as you practically bounce your mouth on his length, taking in his fucked-out expression. he’s still panting, and small whines and grunts are escaping with his breath. squeezing your fingers around his base, you hollow your cheeks around him, slowly sucking up his shaft until you reach the tip and swirl your tongue over him.

“fucking hell…you’re s-so fucking good at that. shit.” mingyu moans loudly, and you can tell you’re gonna be so wet that your underwear stick to you like a second skin after this. you’re desperate to make him cum, feel his cock jump with each spurt, so you hasten your movements. jerking him off as you slurp around him, making spit drip down the length of him.

you unwrap your hand from his shaft, bringing it down to play with his balls instead. he practically sobs out at that, his thighs quivering with each pass your lips make over the ridge of his head. he starts babbling, and that’s how you can tell he’s getting close.

“ss-so good baby. ‘m not gonna last. so so g-good.” mingyu slurs, drool beginning to seep onto his pillow as his eyes roll back. you take him deeper, your nose nearly touching his navel with each bob of your head. he’s so big that you’re starting to gag on him, but you push through anyway. you can’t help but wonder what the room would sound like to someone else, with the way you’re choking and slobbering on his dick.

mingyu’s riding the edge at this point, just needs a little something to get him there. it’s a good thing you know his body like the back of your hand, because you practically read his mind. gripping his girth once again, you squeeze the base of him. your lips tighten around him, dragging your tongue along with them as you move up his shaft. mingyu’s balls are tightening, his cock throbbing as you suction your mouth around him. you mentally prepare to take his load as you lap at his frenulum, already feeling him twitch under your tongue. sure enough, he starts crying out, desperate and pathetic ‘ahhh’s spilling from him and increasing in pitch.

“mmh, gonna cum. shit, baby. g-gonna cum. I—I’m cumming—mmmph!” mingyu’s jaw practically unhinges in a long, strained moan, his back threatening to arch off of the bed as his cock jerks in your mouth, pulsing with spurts of thick cum that land on your tongue and the back of your throat. you swear he cums for hours, his knuckles turning white as he grips the bed sheets.

you struggle to swallow the large mouthful of his load, but you somehow manage with only a few drops leaking out of the corners of your mouth. you squeeze the last few drops out of him with your hand before laving your tongue over him one last time to clean him up.

his body jerks and he whimpers in sensitivity at the overstimulation. you place one last kiss on his tip before sitting up, knowing he’s had enough. you watch him with your hands on your knees, observing the way he’s attempting to catch his breath, his arm draped across his forehead. he manages a small chuckle as he notices you staring, cocking your head to one side.

“you’re fucking unreal. I hope you know that.” he breathes, making your cheeks blossom with heat despite the lewd acts you just performed on him. you know mingyu is spent, but honestly giving him head makes you so fucking horny, you’re worried you might have to rub one out in the shower if he has no energy left.

luckily for you, mingyu can tell exactly you need him (by the way you squirm and squeeze your thighs together), and he won’t ever leave you wanting. especially after some of the best head of his life. he motions you over to him with a lazy wave of his hand. “c’mere baby. wanna feel how wet you are.”

you crawl over to him slowly, situating your clothed, aching pussy straight over his outstretched hand. he hums in delight at the way your arousal immediately coats his fingertips, and teasingly presses them into you. you whimper shakily, practically keeling over as he immediately finds your throbbing clit.

“fuck,” mingyu groans. “fucking drenched. does sucking my dick make you that horny, dirty girl?” he teases, his sleepiness fading away with each passing second as your hips grind into his hand.

“y-yes gyu,” you whine. “need your cock so bad. please. please.” he chuckles at your desperation, pulling his hand away from your cunt and grabbing your hand instead and pulling you to straddle him.

“such a little slut. c’mere baby, ride my cock.”

***

#mingyu smut #mingyu #kim mingyu #kim mingyu smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #smut #mingyu seventeen

1K notes · View notes

missrosegold · 5 months

Text

someone new

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

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

Word count: 16K

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem!reader)

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

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

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

Title is from Someone New by Hozier

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

Sometimes Touya wonders how he got here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was a joke if he ever fucking heard one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he met you.

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

-----

He remembers the first time he met you.

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

There he had started his rehabilitation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was more relieved than he thought he would be.

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

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

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

He remembers the day you met for the first time.

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

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

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

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

He sat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d grinned at his remark. “No.”

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

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

That caught his attention.

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

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of you? No.”

“You’re shitting me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were lucky you were attractive.

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

“Mr. Todoroki?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what now then?”

“Now we talk I guess.”

“About what?”

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

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

“…fine. Ask away, I guess.”

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… I’ll think about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had been nice. Comfortable, even.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You left.”

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

“Why did you go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want Touya?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. They not in the country, or—”

“We’ll go with that.”

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

“Sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the end, you’d kept your promise.

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

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

Surprisingly, you’d felt the same as him.

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted you to meet his mother and siblings.

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

His father hadn’t been invited for obvious reasons.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

His extensive skin care routine is one of those tasks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re home early.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really missed you; I mean.”

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

“Mmmm.”

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

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

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

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

He rolls his eyes at you. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not today babe, let me do the work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eyes on me gorgeous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m crazy remember?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you were better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know Touya. I’ve always known.”

FIN

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

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leeknowsintrusivethots · 7 months

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A Stray Concubine

| Part 1 | Pairings: Prince!Lee Know/You, Prince!Bangchan/You, RivalNoble!Hyunjin/You? We are all about possibility here. Summary: Entering into a harem choosing was something you have been groomed for since you were young. Your aim is to make Crown Prince Christopher fall at your heels in order to restore your ruined family name and fortune, but games of love are much harder than games of lies and deceit. Content: Angst (is it me if it's not?), slow burn, smut(warnings below the cut), fictional historical universe, dark themes, second person perspective, historical-typical gender roles, imperial harem-inspired concubine system, multi-pov WC: 5119 Minors do not interact. Do not repost my content to other websites. Notes: I'm back to writing again, keyboard slappin' again. Also, I am having trouble figuring out a way to format POV shifts on tumblr that is clean but not intrusive. I am open to suggestions.

Smut Warnings: very brief/very vanilla smut, sex with a stranger, no strings, mentions/illusions of oral, smut is not between leads of the story?(idk, I think some of you might be peeved by that. We do it for the plot.)

You

Powerful was a word that most would not place on a woman.

Women were meant to be demure and delicate. They were meant to rear children and attend to household affairs as their husbands brought in income and fought in wars where there would be no true victors. It was not a woman's place to meddle in affairs of politics and governance outside of securing marriage alliances for unwanted daughters to bring extra wealth and prestige to the family name. That is simply how the world worked.

You never questioned it in your childhood. You wore the pretty, colorful silks. You learned to speak eloquently but never out of turn. You played instruments and studied embroidery and other womanly arts. You were exactly what society dictated you be: a pretty face being prepared to be sold off for the honor of your family name.

It was a single, fateful trip to the capital with your mother and father that had changed not only your perspective but the entire course of your life. Your family name was tarnished and your father was executed by the ruling Bang family for murder and treason. The only thing that had saved you and your mother was the grace of the sex you had been born with and her tears and pleas for mercy. Even as she cried and begged in front of His Majesty, the truths you had known crumbled to dust.

Your father had been a puzzle piece in a generations long game of chess where the kings and queens played with the lives of others to gain power of their own. He had been a disposable pawn, easily lost to the ages as a traitor whom there would be no songs written about. Everyone knew it, and it didn't take long for you to realize it for yourself. You, even at a young age, looked beyond your mother's pretty tears and prettier words.

You knew Princess Mai was set to wed the young lord Hwang.

The Hwangs were a powerful family - rivaling your own in terms of wealth and influence. Hwang Hyunjin was the sole heir to his family's fortunes. A marriage alliance with Princess Mai would tip the precarious balance of power to favor the Hwangs more greatly. It would have been a match that would have been detrimental to your own family's power.

You knew all of this. You also knew the vial of dark purple liquid your mother had hidden under the flowing sleeve of her gown was not nail polish as she had told you. You had watched keenly as she had slipped the liquid into Princess Mai’s goblet as you all supped with the Queen without anyone else the wiser. Your mother's poison had killed the young princess before the physicians could even get through the door. As Queen Bang had cried and screamed for the loss of her child, your mother had secretly smiled.

She had ruined the Hwang’s grab for more power and gotten rid of a Bang daughter in one fell swoop. She was the chess master, and she had outmaneuvered them all with a pretty face and a pretty smile. You don't know if she foresaw any of the consequences of her actions: the execution of her husband, the ruin of the family businesses, and the loss of your family's prestige.

Your mother had broken the mold. She had held your father under a spell with her looks alone. His station allowed him to take other wives if he chose, but he never did. He allowed her the freedom that many women would never get to taste in this lifetime, and she took it with greed and left him in a grave of her making.

“Was the power worth it, Mother?” You asked the carriage window that tottered down the street.

Through the pristine glass, the lush landscape was ruined by the image of heavily armed men on horseback. They wore the colors and heraldry of the Bangs, and they patrolled the road to the palace with keen eyes and sharp blades. Their numbers were more than usual as they surveyed the throng of carriages and ladies on horseback that made the journey in an unlikely parade.

The Selection was the only time that the Kingdom of Miroh would see such an odd assortment of women making their way to the Palace of Kings. It was a rare event, only happening when the Royal family required more women to act as concubines and maids. The needs of the Palace had nobles and commoners alike sending their daughters off for the possibilities of fame and fortune.

Serving the royals as a maid was an honor that most of the peasantry could only dream of, but even nobles would be pleased if one of their younger daughters could secure a spot in the Royal household. It would ensure that they were at least in the line of sight of the many princes, and the maid staff were compensated fairly for their time along with accommodations and food provided for them. There were certainly worse places for a woman to find herself.

You, however, were not sent by your mother with such plebeian goals.

It was not comfort you sought, nor was it the possibility of an affair with the princes. You were to aim higher. You were to become one of the women that history scorned for reaching beyond her station.

Your aim was to ensure that you became Prince Bang's Most Favored. Your mother would accept no less. She wanted the favor, the prestige and wealth that would come along with your rise. It had always been her goal, and it had been fed to you for so long that you weren't even sure how much of it was your own desire over her influence.

Did you want that level of power?

Did you even care to join the Royal family in such a fashion?

Would you ever even come to care for Prince Bang as more than a chess piece on your own board?

These were questions that you could not answer. You often thought of being a young girl again - ignorant to the world and the affairs of adults. You liked your pretty dresses. You loved running through your family's well maintained gardens with your favored hunting hound on your heels. You loved scrubbing paint off your arms and being scolded by your governess for ruining good gowns after a day of painting lessons. You were innocent then, but that was certainly no longer the case.

The frivolities of childhood had to be left behind. You were an adult, and you knew more of the world than you cared to. You knew that as a gently bred woman, you would never be more than a broodmare for a rich and powerful man unless you took charge like your mother had so many times before. The consequences could be grave; you could lose your head if you weren't careful, but great queens had never become so by following the status quo.

As you toiled with emotions far beyond your depth, the King's Gate shadowed your carriage eerily. It was an original part of the palace’s structure, built so solidly that the centuries had done minimal damage to its intricate design. It towered over the road, blocking out the sun with marbled walls inlaid with precious metals and jewels. It was meant to intimidate, and belittle. It was meant to make everyone passing in its shadows feel weak and small in comparison to the glory of the Royal Family. It opened seldomly, and only for whatever family sat the throne at the time.

Its momentous shadow lasted for what felt like an eternity as the line of carriages trudged along the walls of the palace to a more appropriate entrance for those not of royal blood. You and the other women arriving for the selection were being directed to the same gate used for supply carriages and merchants. It was yet another mind game: being delivered like fine cattle to await the murderous whims of a king. It was a way to ensure all women of the selection knew their place - but you saw things through the lens of your mother.

The Gate of Kings was the first thing all arrivals to the palace would see by design, but it would never open for them. Instead of intimidation, you saw a challenge to inflame and inspire your heart. You would enter through the Merchant's Gate, but you knew that the Gate of Kings would open for you one day. It was all a matter of what you had to do to make it happen - consequences be damned.

Prince Minho

Head held high. Feet light and delicate. Body slim and lithe. Features sharp and regal despite station. Gown loose and flowing in bright, ostentatious colors.

She could be a candidate, Lee Minho thought to himself as he watched the dancers practice.

The brightly colored fabric of her gown rode up her ankles as she moved, offering the briefest flash of a pale and delicate ankle. It was inappropriate – bordering on scandalous. Had it been even a decade prior, she might have been imprisoned for her lewdness but times were changing. It was a fact of life as set in stone as the changing of seasons: people evolved and people learned.

Minho liked that concept. He liked the ideas of society shifting and expanding. He liked the change of pace from the monotony, but what he liked even more was the prospect of those daring enough to enact that change. It took an uncommon spirit to go against the masses – to challenge the very knowledge that civilized society was built on.

As if reading his thoughts, the dancer’s eyes found his and held them. Her's were not the wide eyes of an innocent maid. They were heavily lidded, seductive in their intent.

It was another act of impudence, a daring so strong she probably would be locked in a labor camp if his father witnessed the scene. A woman so open in her sexuality was a threat to the masculinity of the insecure men around her who grasped at whatever shred of power they thought was within their reach. She would be scorned – likely punished by her closest male relative had she acted so with any other man.

Lee Minho was certainly not just any man off the streets of Miroh. He was so much more, and arguably so much worse. A Prince of Miroh could easily have her pretty head taken off for such an insignificant slight against social norms. He hated himself for even thinking about it, but he did. He hated himself even as the dance practice came to a natural end and the dancer approached him carelessly.

It was a silent exchange – not a single word passing her rouged lips as he took her slim hand in his and led her from the banquet hall. He knew what she wanted. It's what they all wanted. Motivations differed, but the methods never changed. A fun time with a Prince of one of the most powerful nations in the world. He was never one to reject the advances, never had been.

Lee Minho was many things. He was a Second Prince of Miroh. He was the son of the most powerful man in the kingdom. He was the younger brother of the Crown Prince. He was an intellectual, a graceful fencer, and the official Spare of the Bang family. These were all monikers and titles the public used to describe him, but behind closed doors they sang a different tune.

He was the shame of the Royal family. He favored arts over swordsmanship. He was an alcoholic who frequented ill reputed pubs and discussed philosophy over ale with criminal scholars. He was a rake who lived at brothels and slept with low class whores. They talked as if they knew him. They spoke as if he sat at their tables and discussed with him personally over hot tea – but they had no idea.

They knew nothing of the self hatred that coursed through his veins. They knew nothing of the helplessness he felt due to his station. They would never understand the uncontrollable guilt that never failed to find him.

He was a Prince. He held all the power in the world but that power was wrapped up and presented to him with strings attached ever since he came into the world. He could drink, he could talk and he could sleep his way through the entirety of Miroh but that was as far as his freedom extended. The second he even stepped over the invisible line of what was acceptable, everything could be taken away.

The change he wanted was within his reach – a delicate treasure that would be so easy to share. Reaching up to break it free for the rest of the world would spell the end of everything he had, but he was not brave enough. He was a coward – a coward hiding behind fancy words and under the colorful skirts of women far more courageous than he.

His frustrations often manifested in indulgence in the freedoms he was allowed. He would drink, he would dine, and he would fuck in a vain attempt to fill the deepest pits of his tarnished soul. He never wanted it. He had wanted to change it, but his own desires had twisted him. He became the very thing he feared: a powerful man taking advantage of the luxuries given to him without giving anything in return.

The dancer’s back was pressed against a thin wooden door. Her lithe legs had wrapped around him of their own accord and her hands were threading into his hair and the fabric of his shirt – pulling him deeper into a brief moment where he was not a Prince. He was a normal man without a moral compass, enjoying the pleasures of a woman's body.

There was no foreplay – no kissing or passionate words. He didn't even get her name before he was pushing her skirts up and sinking his sheathed cock into her cunt. It was not an act of love. It was the act of a desperate fool seeking to forget the world around him.

And he took. He took the brief reprieve with abandon. The door shook dangerously behind her. Her nails raked him though his shirt hard enough to leave marks. Her moans and whines intermingled with his hushed pants to fill his ears with sensual distraction as her walls squeezed him.

It was over too fast. The sounds, smells, and feelings of arousal tapering until all that was left was grim reality. Post orgasm clarity was never a good moment sober. Words failed him, and all the truths he ran from distracted him from the beautiful woman who had originally caught his eye.

“Talia,” she spoke as she adjusted her skirts.

“Excuse me?” He questioned dumbly. He had put space between them, giving himself a moment of reprieve and allowing her a moment to collect herself.

“My name: Talia,” she repeated.

“You're telling me now?” He asked in mild amusement.

“Figured you might want to know who just made you cum,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Is that any way for a lady to speak?” he asked at her audacity. It was brazen and crass, but he was far from mad about it. Her words had his cock twitching in his pants again.

“M’no Lady. You know as well as me that I'm not gentleborn.”

“Since we're being so frank, relieve me of my curiosity,” he said as he propped himself against an abandoned and dusty desk against the wall opposite of her. He regarded her levelly, but with the easy charisma that he was often praised for.

“Anything for Second Prince Bang,” she mocked with a quirk of her brows. She never shied away from his stare, never let herself be subdued by the power his titles held. He liked that – a lot.

“I figured you knew.” He was not surprised in the slightest. His portraits were few and far in between, but it was highly likely the palace staff had informed the dancers one of the princes was watching in on their practice. She made no comment of guilt, so he continued, “What did you want from this entanglement?”

“Other than being able to brag that I fucked a Prince?” She laughed. It was not a malicious laugh, but a genuine one. She also found their exchange amusing.

“Are you going to join my fanclub?”

“I'll be the leader.”

At her remark, he laughed. It was an honest laugh, one that had him feeling light and free. It was an uncommon feeling for him, one only his brothers had managed to make him feel. He liked this girl, but that's all he ever could do was like her. He was under no illusions that this was just an exchange of banter. She was a passing moment in his life, not a permanent fixture.

“Were you that pleased?” He asked with a spark in his gut. He made to move from the desk, but she put her hands up in surrender.

“So pleased, I fear another round would have me fainting.” She let out a sigh as she fanned herself in exaggeration before letting out a snort of derision. “Isn't that what the gentleladies say when their ladybits can't take it anymore?”

“Even noblewomen like to dabble in the fine art of overstimulation,” he smirked back.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Are you avoiding my question?”

“I would never dare,” she hummed with a twinkle showing in her eyes. It was teasing – daring on its own.

“Then answer.”

“Is that a command, Your Highness?”

“Would you obey if it were?”

His question had her approaching him, a smirk that mirrored his own pulling at her painted lips as the gauzy material of her dress flowed around her slim figure enticingly. When she was directly in front of him, close enough that he could feel her breath against his skin, she sank to her knees before him. Her hands deftly handled the ties of his trousers to pull them down enough to free him.

“If the Prince commands, I will serve.” Her mouth, hot and wanting, was on him before he could even think of a witty response.

Prince Christopher

As heir apparent of a nation, Christopher Bang was not unaccustomed to worry. He worried about the coming winter and if the provinces had prepared their food stores accordingly. The winters in Miroh could be harsh– deadly even. If the cold didn’t kill the populace, hunger was a certain second contender. If he could help alleviate that in any way: he would. It was his birthright and his duty, and he was nothing if not a man of his station.

Any indication of increasing hostilities in the Borderlands would have him holed up in his personal offices for weeks on end. He would analyze patterns. He would discern strategies. He would rethink choices in generals. He would make plans to advocate for peace treaties with the neighboring territories. WIthout fail, his efforts would be rebuked by the King and the conflicts would continue unchecked. He never stopped trying.

The conflicts never turned to all out war. They were simply petty squabbles with centuries long history over dejure land rights. It was almost ingrained as tradition– sons carrying out the same trite battles as a matter of pride over any true cause. Ofcourse, it wasn’t the Kings or Princes that suffered.

It was the common soldiers with wives and children waiting for their safe return. It was the fishermen who watched warily as flagships came to shore. It was the farmers who worked full days for a meager loaf of bread only to watch their livelihoods be put to the torch in a war they never asked for. It was average people who held no stake nor say in the matters of governance or state. It didn’t matter to them who held the territories they called home. Their lot would stay the same regardless of which Lords called themselves King, but the battles for that title hurt them more than anyone else.

Christopher knew that. He wanted to change it. He wanted to right historical wrongs and be the King his people needed. Alas, he couldn't. All he could do was worry.

It wasn't even just grand matters of state that occupied his mind. Smaller, more personal affairs piled on his already overloaded platter of responsibilities. He was the eldest of his family's sons – even in the circles of peasantry that came with its own responsibility. He had to look out for his younger siblings. He had to ensure they played their parts as royal children and kept the family name clean and as prestigious as ever. Some of his brothers made it harder than others.

Changbin had taken his duties easily as had their younger brothers: Seungmin and Jeongin. They knew their stations and how to conform within the standards that befit them. Felix and Jisung tried, but they were more empathetic. They struggled with their places on the world stage– questioning the morality of their way of life and the responsibilities they held. It wasn't a negative thing, and Christopher could not fault them for it. It was a natural part of being human.

In his youth, it wasn't at all uncommon for his studies and training as heir to lead him down a spiral of questions. He was one of the most powerful men in the world thanks to nothing other than being born a son of the Bang Family. He could make people tremble in fear if he so much as looked at them with ill intent. He held the power of life and death in his hands. How could that possibly be fair? How could he live knowing that he had everything while others had nothing? He was as well aware of the moral quandaries as Jisung and Felix. He would not fault them for floundering – he could not.

The hardest thing – he had learned – was having all the power in the world and still trying to be a decent human.

The duties and power of royalty were a loaded hand cannon given at whim by an unfair creator. Some men would tremble at the burden, and lay it down without problem. Some would take the power to head and heart, and become a terrible beast whose machinations could ruin entire realms with a single shot. Others – a very rare few – had the sense and sensibility to know not only how to shoot, but how to aim.

It was Christopher’s only hope that he ended up in the history books as one of the latter. He would be a good king when the time came. He would care for his people and not let the burden of rule turn him hard and corrupt. He would be the role model his brothers needed.

But these were simply hopes and dreams. In reality, he was simply one Prince amongst many others. His father still held the crown of governance, and he answered to the King as well as anyone else.

“You can not simply force him!” Beauty Lee cried out with as much emotion as Christopher had ever seen her express. She was usually so calm, and collected. She was a Beauty of the King’s Harem, but he had learned far too early that even his father could break the cool facade of the Palace women with little effort.

“And what's to stop me, Woman?” King Bang grunted back with a bite. His voice was not to be forgotten. It was distinct in its unyielding harshness, and it suited his appearance just as well.

He was a hardened man – a King but a true warrior at heart. He was graying and wrinkling in age, but he was still considered a handsome – even fearsome – man. Under the wrinkles covering his face and hands were scars from battle. He had seen war, but his age and dress showed he also knew luxury in equal measure.

“He is your son! You must have an ounce of compassion for your own blood!” Beauty Lee protested.

“Compassion? Is compassion what he needs, now?” The words were not spoken, but spat in frustration. It was a testament to Beauty Lee’s determination that she did not shirk away from the words. “I'd rather a firm beating to undo all the years of coddling you've put the boy through.”

“Is a mother's love coddling? I shall not deny he is flawed. Heaven knows we all are, but he's grown into a good man with a good heart!” Her voice was calmer, but still burning with resolve.

The feeling of dread that had been slowly rising in Christopher’s chest engulfed him until he felt bile rising in the back of throat. He knew he had not been summoned to the King’s receiving chambers to simply witness a lover’s quarrel. They were speaking of Second Prince Minho - Beauty Lee’s only son and the Second of the Bang Sons.

Minho wasn’t like his other brothers. He had always been incredibly brave even if outlandish. He broke tradition: galavanting across the world with intellectuals, keeping the company of whores and artists, and never accepting his duties as a Prince of the Royal Family. He had always done what he wanted, and Christopher admired him for it even if it stressed him out to his wits end.

“A heart our enemies would tear out of his chest and eat for protein. He is soft. Sometimes I question whether he is even my son,” King Bang said viciously. It was a tone that could cut down enemies. I was not a tone to take with a gentlewoman, especially not regarding your own blood.

“You– you can't say such things! He is your true son! I swear it,” Beauty Lee prostrated.

“Ah, bugger off woman! If I had any true suspicions you would be dead and he would be left to rot in a cell.”

“Please, Your Highness. Minho admires you so much, he just needs time.”

“Time? Had I known you and your welp would be so resource intensive, I would have left you both in the whore house you came from.” King Bang said it as if he were discussing the menu for the upcoming festivities. It was as casual a threat as could be delivered, but it was a threat.

“Plea–”

“Save your whimpering. There will be no further discussion. Minho will cease his fruitless adventures and settle down here in the palace with a harem befitting his station – or he will be sent to the Borderlands indefinitely.”

“You would send your own son to die in such a way?” Beauty Lee cried. As if suddenly realizing he was present, her wild eyes fell on Christopher. Before he could even register what was happening, she was tugging the sleeve of his shirt in desperation. “My Prince! He is your brother! Minho will die in the Borderlands! You know it.”

“Unhand the Crown Prince, Woman! I have taken heads for less!” King Bang roared amongst her pleas for mercy.

It was moments like this that Christopher liked to pretend. He was not simply Prince Christopher: he was King Christopher. He held the power. He would never let Beauty Lee be in such distress and he would be content to let Minho live as he saw fit, but those were still dreams. He was but a Prince, and Minho was too. If they wanted to survive for a future, they all had their parts to play. He could not pretend: he had to take action.

“Father,” Christopher spoke up as Beauty Lee clung to him. “I will take responsibility.”

“For Minho?” King Bang questioned with narrowed eyes. He was always suspicious– always seeing a play even if there was none, and truly Christopher didn’t have one.

“Yes. I will ensure he settles down into Court Life,” Christopher assured his dad and the bleary-eyed Beauty. She blinked up at him with hope, and even fondness. She always had been kind to him and his brothers. She would sneak them sweets when they were young and practiced at swords and the King forbade it. She was a kind woman – maybe too kind for the world she had been adopted into. “I will make sure he accepts it, and adjusts appropriately.”

“Sometimes, I fear I have raised no sons, but seven bleeding hearts instead,” King Bang sighed. He contemplated for a moment, his eyes flashing between his concubine and his heir with laser focus. If he were looking for something, he seemed to be content with what he found. “I will let you.”

“Oh, Your Majesty. I will be forever grateful. You are good, and just!” Beauty Lee cried as she dropped Christopher’s arm only to bow as low as possible at the foot of the King’s ornate desk chair he occupied.

“Save your words,” he commanded her. Her words stopped at once at his admonishment. “If Christopher should fail to tame my most wayward son, it will be a statement of his right to rule.”

As he spoke, he stared right into the eyes of Chrisopher.

The young prince was not surprised. He had spent his entire life jumping through hoops to earn not only his crown, but even a shred of affection from the larger than life figure that he shared blood with. His aptitude had never failed him, but he would never feel safe relying on his father’s love for anything in his life.

“If I cannot trust my heir to command his own blood, how can I trust him to command the people of an entire kingdom?” the King added. He let the threat hang in the air before turning his attention back to the sniveling Beauty at his feet. “In other words, if he fails: you will ruin two of my sons.”

It was another threat meant for the woman who had borne him a child.

She was one of his longest lasting concubines. It was rumored that Beauty Lee was the one woman of the harem that held any love from the King, and she had suffered for it. She had been scorned and bullied by the other women of the King’s harem. She had been attacked in countless games of court intrigue. She had outlasted all the attempts to have her ousted from the court and from his favor.

Christopher could only wonder: how would she survive the biggest threat of them all?

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