#and I was just an angry person for a while

[cheriladycl01]

They do be comfy tho! - Lando Norris x Pregnant! Reader

Plot: You try hide your pregnancy through Lando's large array of hoodies.

Credit to 4and55 for the GIF

You sat in the bathroom crying your eyes out. You'd been feeling sick recently and didn't think the plane journey all the way to Las Vegas would be a good idea.

So you stayed behind while Lando went racing, you were now looking at the positive test in your hand.

You knew exactly when it was, it was. It was after his first race win in Brazil... you guys weren't as careful as you should have been.

"Fuck" you cried leaning your head against the wall of the bathroom, tears streaming down your face. It wasn't that you didn't want kids, or that you didn't want them with Lando it's just that you both agreed now wasn't the best time where he was in the height of his career.

You didn't know what to do, the only person you could think to call was Oscar's girlfriend Lily who you'd become best friends with ever since you met her at her first race appearance.

You waited while the phone rung, and rung until the line opened.

"Lily?" you sob into the phone but it's silent.

"Lily please, i need you!" you cry a little more.

"Y/N?" a male voice you knew too well answered. It was Oscar.

"Oscar?" you ask.

"Yeah, it's me Lily's just in the bathroom i didn't want it to go to a missed call!" he says before you here Lily ask who it is.

"Please Oscar, just hand me over to her" you say, Oscar could tell you were crying and he wanted to know what was wrong more than anything. He handed over the phone to his girlfriend with a worried look who answers right away.

"Y/N?" she asks with concern in your voice.

"Can you be alone right now, like without Oscar?" you say with labored breaths.

"Yeah, he's just leaving to get ready for FP3, weren't you babe!" she smiles giving him a look that tells him to leave.

Oscar, stops outside the door with a small panic.

What does he tell Lando?

Does he tell Lando?

He really had no idea what to say. Did he tell Lando that his girlfriend just got a call from Lando's girlfriend and he answered and she wa sobbing.

Would this make Lando spiral and have a bad race.

"Y/N please tell me what's happened!" Lily says back in Oscar's driver room.

"I'm pregnant" you sob and Lily's eyes widen.

"Congrats?" Lily says awkwardly and you just sob harder.

"Okay okay I'm sorry! I don't know what to say. How can i help!" she asks.

"I don't know, I think i just needed to tell someone!" you sniffle.

You continue to talk to Lily until she needs to leave to go watch Oscar and you agree you should probably watch Lando.

You walk past your shared room with Lando in your Monaco flat seeing one of his hoodies laying over the chair. You grab it and pull it over.

You spend the rest of the weekends watching shitty romcom's until you get a text from Lando.

Lando: I'm coming home, now

And that sent you into a full on spiral. Did Oscar or Lily talk and tell him, was hen angry at you...

Until he got home you were a nervous wreck having a ball of anxiety in your stomach.

"Baby?" Lando calls as he goes through the front door looking around for you. You were sat on the sofa, curled up in his lavender hoodie from his Quadrant range.

He walks in seeing you sat there, tears in your eyes as your trying not to look at him.

"Baby, look at me tell me why Oscar told me you called Lily in floods of tears... what's happened!" he asks, kneeling down in front of you trying to catch your gaze but you refused to look.

"Baby come on" he sighs. You take his hand, before standing up and walking him to the bathroom and showing him the test.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asks looking between the stick and you. You just nod, no words coming to your mouth.

"Baby, this is amazing! I know timing isn't great but i'll be here for you and them! I promise!" he says pulling you into a tight hug. He spent the whole evening talking to you about everything.

"You aren't leaving me?" you asked with a small sniffle.

"Baby, of course not... is that why you called Lily crying?" he asks with a frown and you nod.

"I was just worried, I know Mclaren have a really good car this year and that you and Oscar are a good team and we are still really young!" you admit and he nods.

"We are, but it's not anything we can't handle together..." he says pulling you in for a kiss, holding your hips before they snake up your body to get to the back of your neck.

"I love you so so much" he sighs leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes open watching you eyes.

"I love you too!" you sigh, all that built up anxiety just leaving and releasing from you.

"I don't think we should tell anyone but family" you say looking down and he frowns, not sure what you mean.

"Your going to stop coming to my races?" he asked, obviously he knew towards the end of your pregnancy you wouldn't be able to do the flight but right now you'd be safe and healthy to fly.

"No of course not! As long as we are on a jet I should be fine, why wouldn't eye?" you ask tilting your head in confusion.

"Well, baby ..." he gulps and you nearly start to laugh wondering where he's going with this.

"In a pregnancy you are growing a whole other human inside of you, so you'll ... you know get bigger?" he says as if its more of a question to you than anything.

"Yes, I'll have a bump" you giggle, placing his hand on your currently flat stomach.

"But you don't want to tell anyone? People will start to find out when they see it honey!" he laughs, rubbing your hips and stomach.

“I’ll just cover up with your hoodies” you say showing Jake how you look now.

“Mmmm my hoodies can only go so far” he laughs.

And that was the truth, you struggled in the heat in the hotter countries and ended up getting too big for even Lando’s hoodies.

Someone on twitter had got a picture of you, at an angle where Landos hand gripping your made the loose hoodie grab around your growing stomach and people started to go wild.

So you guys went to Instagram of course.

landonorris

landonorris: Yes Y/N is pregnant! We are both very happy and she’s currently 7 months along and we are expecting in July and cannot wait to meet our little girl!

Tagged 1 Person

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y/user: I love you so much. I wouldn’t want to experience this journey with anyone else! 🧡🫶🏼

mclaren: Papaya Baby incoming 🧡🦁 Congrats Lando!

oscarpiastri: congrats man!

lilyzniemer: she’s such a pretty mumma

-> y/user: stop it!!!! 🫶🏼🧡

Taglist:

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#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando fluff #lando imagine #lando #lando x reader #lando norris masterlist #lando norris x y/n #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n #ln4 x you #lando norris fluff

[gay-dorito-dust]

You may request A batboys reacting to the death of the reader

First time writing for Tim, so he’s probs ooc in this one.

Dick feels as though he’s failed you.

He tries to act like he was fine but he was far from it and everyone knew it as they stepped on eggshells with him during this time.

Dick would often find himself sat on the very rooftops where he’d take you on countless dates or just to star gaze and talk as though you were still with him.

It was his own way of comforting himself with your loss but that was never enough to stop the tears that fell from his eyes when he spotted a bright star he’s never seen before until now, and laughs humourlessly.

‘I see you’ve finally made your way amongst the stars huh sweetheart?’ He’d say as your star would twinkle in response, making him chuckle. ‘You’re so beautiful, the brightest of your kind.’ He adds sombrely as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as he felt his heart sing out for you, only to receive nothing in return.

Reality was often disappointing but with you it was a fairy tale.

Waking up to you was a dream within itself and getting to do mundane things with you before heading off to work was something that could only exist in a daydream.

He knew Hayley misses you as badly as he does with how he’d hear the poor dog whine and whimper at the door, as if waiting for you to walk through it and tackle her with kisses and love like you always did, only to get nothing for hours.

‘I know, I miss them too.’ He says against Hayley’s fur as she whimpers and whines at the door. ‘I miss them so fucking much it hurts.’ He adds as he allows himself to mourn for you alongside his dog long into the night.

Jason blames himself for not being fast enough or strong enough to keep you protected and safe.

The apartment you once shared with him that only recently had started to feel like home to him now felt cold and haunted with the ghost of you, so much so to the point he avoids it at all cost.

Nothing felt right without you, everything felt wrong and unjustified that he became more ruthless then before on patrols just to let off some steam and would come back from them more beaten and bruised then normal.

He didn’t care, he couldn’t feel anything anymore with how numb he became after loosing you.

Dick and Roy would stop by to see how he was doing but each visit was the same with Jason refusing his older brother and best friend entry as he held one of your plushies tightly against his chest. He knows they mean well but he just couldn’t find it within himself to hear the same thing he’s heard from everyone else; It just felt disingenuous after a while and didn’t feel as though people truly understood the impact that you had on him throughout your time together.

Jason would become more destructive with himself and going headfirst into danger without a second thought and damns his teammates for dragging him out by the scruff of his neck as he fights and kicks out of their hold. He doesn’t want to be saved! He just wanted to be with you again, why couldn’t they see that?!

After loosing you Jason becomes more prone to angry outbursts and often lets them out on the wrong person but he couldn’t care less at this point, his favourite person was gone and he was left back where he was before you.

Lost and deeply afraid.

Tim would retreat from everyone and everything by cooping himself into his room, rarely to come out.

He’d rather rot in his bed and on his phone, looking through all the photos you’ve taken together and seeing just how happy you both were, all the while a pit in his stomach grew at the thought of all the plans you’ve made but would never get to do.

He hated how easily he gave you his heart and hated it even more at just how easy it was to loose you that he wishes that he could stop himself from meeting you for the first time, just so he could selfishly save himself from the best moments of his life and the inevitable heartbreak he’d soon suffer.

Tim would do anything in his power to get you back but knew that it just wasn’t possible.

He knew Jason was given life by the Lazarus pit but he wasn’t willing to subject you to that even if he was held at gunpoint. He’d rather you rest in peace than force you to live with the knowledge that you should technically be dead.

Tim would remain in his room, wondering about the what ifs and the what could’ve beens if you hadn’t died. Would someone have taken your place? Was your death an unchangeable fixed point in time that was meant to happen?

He would only be reunited with you in his dreams where he has saved you and you had gotten to live out the rest of your life happily, rather then left for dead in an alleyway not too far from the place where you were originally going to meet up for date night.

Damian dedicated his life to getting revenge.

He had lost the light in his life, so why should he think his adversaries should live when you weren’t even given the option?

There will be more bodies pilling up on the streets of Gotham at a faster rate than normal whenever Damian is on patrol, much to Bruce’s dismay.

His anger and grief was all consuming and that left little to no room for logic to make him stop and see what he was doing was no better than the thing that took you away.

Life was black and white for a long time for Damian and you were the colour.

You were the air he breathed and without you he was gasping.

He knew about the Lazarus pit in his grandfather’s possession and its mythical properties and how it gave Jason a second chance at life. However he was at a cross roads on using it for his own selfish gain, on one hand he could have you back and everything would be fine again, but on the other hand you wouldn’t be the version of you he fell in love with…

Damian didn’t know what to do. The grief, the anger, the sadness…it was all too much for him. He felt as though he apart of him was missing and he would never get it back, it just wasn’t possible.

Bruce feels as though nothing has changed since his parents death.

He may be older, faster, stronger and wiser but that didn’t mean nothing in the face of death, and your death only proved that to be true as he held you in his arms, holding you close to his chest as he quietly sobs into your cold neck.

Much like Tim, Bruce doesn’t take care of himself anymore and it was up to Alfred to make sure that he doesn’t keep over and die unexpectedly.

‘They wouldn’t want this for you sir.’ Alfred would say as Bruce slams his hands down on the surface of his desk. ‘And what would you know that they want for me Alfred, y/n’s dead and it’s my fault.’ He would bark and bare his teeth at the only father figure he had in his life, a father figure whom has seen this expression bore on the young master’s face more times then he could count, but it still hurt him to see Bruce in pain and heartbreak.

‘They would want you to take care of yourself, sleep proper hours, eat full meals, shower, reach out to anyone,’ Alfred began to walk towards Bruce and place a hand on his shoulder, where he could practically feel the unbridled anger and pain radiation through him that he kept under control. ‘They wouldn’t want you to wallow in pain alone, Gotham needs you.’

‘And I needed them.’ Bruce replied sharply, aggressively wiping his eyes with his hand as he looks over at a framed picture of you that he always kept nearby. ‘All I wanted was them.’ He adds softly this time as he looks at Alfred, lost and confused at what to do now that his anchor was gone. ‘I miss them so much Alfred.’

Alfred brings Bruce into his arms, much like he did when he lost his parents, when he lost Jason and now you, allowing him to burrow his face into the Butler’s shoulder and softly sob into the fabric. Alfred felt his heart break even more as he rubbed Bruce’s back in an attempt of bringing him comfort. ‘I know master Bruce, I know, but you’d be doing their memory a great disservice by destroying yourself.’ The older man started as he looked over at the framed picture of you and smiled soberly, you were a beacon to Bruce and Alfred wasn’t afraid to say that he viewed you as his in law with how happy you made Bruce and that was all Alfred could ever want for him.

Now that you were gone, Alfred couldn’t help but feel that the manor got just that little bit lonelier without you.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake imagines #tim drake x you #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #Bruce Wayne imagines

[thehmn]

Random rant.

I was telling my mom about yet another random middle aged guy who insisted on me paying attention to him (you know the type who gets super angry if you don’t respond to them saying hi or whatever, either because you didn’t hear them or didn’t know they were talking to you, instead of just letting it go like a normal person) and I was like “I’m sorry but it’s always guys your age”

I expected her to defend her fellow man but instead she responded “Oh my god yes. They’re the WORST”

Talk about Karen’s all you like but no group of people are more entitled than middle aged men. I hope it’s just those generations because I never experience it with guys my age and younger. But we’ll see in a few years. I’m close to middle aged myself and perhaps people just lose their fucking mind at a certain age.

Best part of being a cleaner is that if I don’t respond to those types of guys at work they just assume I don’t understand what they’re saying. I can hear them get all worked up at which point I start to ignore them out of spite and eventually I’ll hear someone say “She’s probably an immigrant” and they cool off. Yeah buddy, that’s the only explanation. It couldn’t possibly be because I don’t want to talk to you because you’re acting like an entitled dick.

At this point I’ve made it my mission in life to piss those guys off. I always pick up after my dogs but more than once some middle aged guy started ordering me to pick up as I was getting the bags out. I love the look on their face when I call them shit-sheriff and curse them out for thinking they can boss random adults around like that. And they never have a comeback because they never expected anyone to challenge them. I had a shouting match with one older guy who tried to push me over while I was riding my bike slowly past him because he felt I was trying to run him over for some reason but it ended real fast when I told him to fuck back to his retirement home because they forget they don’t get my respect for free. Same if you call them ugly. They have no idea how to respond to that because they never had to worry about their looks before.

So to anyone reading this, just be cool if people don’t respond to you and don’t act like you can order random strangers around. Niceness will get you anywhere with strangers (unless they’re assholes themselves)

#humontalks #rant post

[cordeliawhohung]

Core, what about a bit of competition with ps! Gaz? Some new girl who think's she's already the darling of the studio takes a liking to Gaz, but finds out about his ties with reader.

The one time she gets to film with Gaz, she overplays her role and absolutely covers his neck, collar, shoulder, everything with hickeys, hoping it will deter the reader.

So imagine her shock when the next day, she pops into his dressing room and finds the reader in there as well, applying foundation over the marks and littered with dozens from Gaz himself. ❤️

(I realize how dumb this sounds as an ask but it's been rotting my brain for days and I desperately need it gone so I can focus on my college classes 😭)

thanks this has also been rotting my brain because i just love putting people in their place (: more ps!gaz here <3

The crux of your ass sits in perfect place on Kyle's thighs while your legs straddle the expanse of his hips. Warm hands rest on your waist as you manhandle his jaw, tilting his head side to side to get better access to his neck. Thick, round hickeys litter the delicate skin around his throat and down to his shoulders in angry, red pinpoint marks that break the beautiful and even tone of his skin with something revolting. They look like proper bruises rather than the after effects of a... wild video shoot. As if someone had tried to strangle him rather than make love to him.

You remember the video well, along with that new model with her fake blonde hair and even faker tan that they had paired Kyle with to shoot the other day. You had only seen her in person one time, and you vividly recall the way her blue eyes rolled over your body, assessing every inch of you before ultimately deciding you were worth very little time. Confidence was a must when you worked in the porn industry, but her attitude borders on an arrogance you haven't seen since your teenage years in public school.

As you apply yellow color corrector onto the dark marks on his skin, you nearly shiver as the images of her stained lips suckling on Kyle's neck flood your mind. There was little room to feel jealousy about her ravaging your favorite co-star when you were too busy cringing. So childish. Over zealous. You nearly cried tears of laughter when you noticed Kyle's expression, grimacing at the wet tongue and annoying teeth that nipped at him, yet still having to pretend to enjoy it. Even the comments on the video joked about it.

Put him back with the other model.

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought someone tried to strangle you," you tease.

"She might as well have," Kyle sighs. He adjusts his shoulders against the back of the chair, bare pecs flexing with the movement, bringing your attention to the uncovered marks that line his collarbone. "Haven't been able to go out in public without a goddamn turtleneck 'cause of her."

You chuckle as you finish applying and buffing out the rest of the color corrector along his skin. It leaves him looking sickly and discolored, which oddly enough is an improvement to what it looked like before. Setting the corrector to the side, you grab foundation next, hips swaying as you attempt to get some movement in your aching knees. Holding that position for so long without moving had them burning with fatigue.

"Need a break, doll?" Kyle prompts, hands sliding from your waist to your thighs.

"Don't know if we have time for a break. Got a lot of ground to cover before we start," you humor.

Kyle sits forward, throwing you off balance, yet he doesn't let you sway very far before his arms wrap around you, hands supporting your back. Adoring eyes crease as a grin floods his face. Even without the aid of studio lights he glows like a god as he leans closer and places a kiss on your neck.

"Show can't start without us," he says, teeth grazing your skin as he wanders down to your collarbone. "Could always give you a few hickeys to match, if you want."

He doesn't wait for you to answer before his tongue glides across your clavicles just for his teeth to follow right after. A chuckle rumbles in his chest at the tightening of your legs around his hips, and his hands only pull you closer. It doesn't take much for you to give in. Head rolling back, muscles melting as his lips conquer everything you're willing to give him. It's a delicate softness mixed with a brutal bite, something that leaves you gasping as he pulls the very air from your lungs and feeds on the sounds.

Kyle is more starved for you than usual. Sick of the fake, over dramatic screeching he got last week with that other model, he's hungry for the real thing. Hungry for you.

The unopened foundation falls free from your loose fingers and rolls along the floor into some forgotten corner when his hands wander underneath your shirt. It's a dance he has memorized; unclasping your bra without a second thought and tearing both it and your shirt off in a single, swift motion. He gives you little time to recover before his mouth is on your tits, kissing a sparse trail until he's rolling a perky nipple between his lips.

His bare skin feels like heaven underneath the palm of your hands as you grip his shoulders for stability. He'd take you on the cold, dressing room floors, you knew he would. A part of you wanted him to. Fuck the shoot, they should've learned well enough to put cameras in the dressing rooms by that point with how handsy Kyle Garrick always was with you.

"Can't wait until we get on set to try and undo me?" you ask breathlessly.

"Doll, I'll undo you right here and then again on set if you asked me to," he mumbles into your skin.

A quiet squeak interrupts your moment and the ambiance of the room shifts when the door to Kyle's dressing room opens. His hands grow stiff against your spine as you look over your shoulder at the figure in the doorway. You smell her perfume before you recognize her. Something drowning and floral, like a mall department store. It burns your nose, yet you're too distracted by the slack-mouth surprise etched onto the features of the new blood's face.

It's cute; her confusion. How her eyes flicker over your bare back and Kyle's hands pressed against your skin like he's cradling the only thing he cares for in the world. The dots just can't quite connect in her mind as to why he hasn't completely fallen for her yet, as if the only way she knows how to lure men is by butchering their neck with discolored marks. She can't comprehend why he'd rather have you in his lap than her.

Kyle draws a shocked groan from you when his teeth nip at your shoulder, and your eyes have no choice but to fall away from the woman in the doorway as he pulls you closer to him. His chin gently rests on your shoulder as he stares at the model, hands moving to rest on your hips.

"Need somethin?" he asks, bored.

There is very little you wouldn't have given to see the look on her face, but the small huff followed by the door slamming shut is good enough. Small giggles rattle your body as you lean back to get a better look at Kyle, as if your body would throw a fit if he wasn't within your sight. There's an inexplicable relief that floods his face as he looks up at you, and he mirrors your smile.

"What?" he defends. "Only asked her if she needed somethin."

"I think you broke her heart," you patronize.

"She'll live," he mumbles, lips falling against the crook of your neck again. "Your heart is the only one I care about, anyway."

#pornstar!gaz #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader smut #cod smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader smut #f!reader

[hisfavegiri]

One Mistake - Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader.

Warning : typical inscet Targaryen, angst, mentions of an affair, harsh language, mention of blood, miscarriage.

You looked at your husband with the knife still at his neck, your tears flowing freely. You ignore the screams of your mother and sister asking you to stay away from Aemond, you are really angry now that Aemond has crossed the line.

"What are you waiting for? kill me now” you could see Aemond smile a little and it made your stomach turn, how could he be this calm when there was a knife at his neck?

"You think I can't do it, huh? You're wrong husband, I really can" once again you pressed the knife deep into his neck which you guaranteed might have hurt him because you could see the change in his expression a second ago.

You continued to stare at him sharply and angrily, but suddenly you dropped the knife in your hand. You may be angry and disappointed, but you still love him. he looked at you in shock and you ran out.

You ignored everyone's whispers and stares as you ran towards your chambers, you no longer cared what they said. As soon as you enter your chambers, you throw everything and scream.

You ignore the knock that comes from outside the door, you feel empty, you feel weak, your husband, the person you love has a child with someone else. A bastard, news that you can deny as strongly as possible, but it turns out that today the woman, Alys, brought their son and you saw him. A son that Aemond longed for was in her arms.

Suddenly your world was destroyed, the dreams you had created together with Aemond suddenly collapsed. You kept crying and screaming until your throat felt hoarse, You decided to stay in your chambers, you wouldn't come out to anyone. even your mother and your twin sister.

“My love? can you let me in?” You hear the soft voice of your mother who has been begging you to come in for three days, but you still hold on firmly and don't let her in.

you can hear her breath before she knocks again, “you should at least eat, I'm worried about your health love.” You remained silent, you hadn't even touched the food she brought you yesterday.

when night falls, your mother still continues to persuade you to open the door. This time she was accompanied by your sister, Haelena. “y/n.. please open the door, talk to me” but they noticed that your chambers door was no longer locked.

When they opened the door to your room, your mother screamed hysterically when she saw your current condition. You are lying on the floor with blood coming out from between your legs, there are also bloodstains on your mattress, there are visible tear marks on your cheeks and soft sobs are also coming out of your mouth.

"M- mother.. what happened?" that's all you can ask, Haelena ran out to call the Maester while your mother shouted for Aemond. You slowly closed your eyes making your mother panic even more and suddenly everything went dark.

You lie on the bed, your mother and sister always visit and even accompany you. It's been almost two days since you were unconscious after that incident, the incident where you lost your first child who you didn't even know was growing inside you.

When you find out that you have just had a miscarriage, you feel very useless, you feel broken, and feel empty. you blamed yourself until your mother told the Maester to give you medicine to help you sleep.

You growled as you felt extremely dizzy, you blinked your eyes and looked around you. until your eyes fell on Aemond who was standing near the fireplace, he looked at you with a blank but sharp gaze.

“What are you doing here? I don't want to meet you” you spat at him as he walk closer to your bed. You were shocked when you felt his big hands grip your cheeks roughly, you looked at him with tears in your eyes.

“because of you, I lost my child. because of your stupid and childish attitude, I lost my heir”

You looked at him in disbelief and anger, tears rolling down your cheeks now. You let go of his hand with all the strength you have, you're angry, you're furious. Not only does he blame you but he also doesn't realize that the reason they lost their child was because of him.

“my fault? you blame me?! Don't you think Aemond!? why am I like that? you cheated and got that whore pregnant! you have a child with someone else! and you can still blame this on me?! Are you crazy!?”

you screamed in his face, your breathing was very irregular because you were angry. your eyes are red from crying, you can't understand how he could blame you?

“What?! now you can't talk huh? what I said is a fact! You got her pregnant and hoped I would forgive you because I love you?!? I'm not that stupid! I'm not like Haelena when she found out Aegon had many children from his whore, I'M NOT LIKE HER!”

Aemond just remained silent and continued to stare at you, he had no intention of replying to you and you hated that. you turned your head around when you heard your mother's voice “what is this? y/n darling? why are you screaming? you must rest"

You looked at him and smiled a little, before finally taking the knife that was on the left side of Aemond's body. Aemond was shocked and you pushed his body, he fell unguarded.

"I'm sorry if I was never the best daughter for you mother, I will always love you" before your mother and Aemond could take the knife in your hand, you had already slashed your neck.

Aemond captured your body, you could hear your mother's voice calling all the guards to immediately bring in the Maester. Aemond looked at you in shock and fear, you smiled and gently stroked his cheek. "I hope you are happy Aem, sorry I couldn't be a good wife for you" then your eyes close and slowly your hand fell from his cheek.

“no, no, no! don't you dare close your eyes! y/n! Forgive me! y/n! please come back!” Aemond shouted while hugging your body which was starting to get cold, he cried and whispered sorry repeatedly in your ear. when the Maester came, he told you that you were gone. and that night was the night Aemond lost the only person who truly loved him, you.

tag list - @danytar @looneytun3s @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd @eratosmusings (italic means that i can’t tag you)

#hotd #hotd imagine #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd one shot #aegon ii targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond x you #prince aegon targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #alicent hightower #haelena targaryen

[sturnish]

౨ৎ Brothers Best Friend ౨ৎ || ⋆౨ৎ˚ Matt Sturniolo⋆౨ৎ˚ || Series Master List ||

ᡣ𐭩 | Warnings - Smut

ᡣ𐭩 | Summary- Matt and Nate have always been friends. But throughout their friendship, Matt kinda developed feelings for Nate's younger sister, Y/n, but shes off limits for 2 reasons, her boyfriend, and the fact that she's his best friend's sister! what happens when she comes home crying because her boyfriend broke up with her?

Y/n let out a frustrated sigh as she stepped into her room. Her boyfriend had just broken up with her, leaving her heartbroken and angry. She slammed the door shut, tossing her purse onto the bed before collapsing onto the floor. She knew she should probably just talk to someone about how she was feeling, but the thought of facing anyone right now made her want to curl up and hide.

As she laid there, sobbing into her knees, she heard a knock at the door. She didn't even bother getting up, certain it was her mom or dad coming to check on her. But when the door opened, it wasn't them; it was Matt. Her older brother's best friend, and the one person she knew she shouldn't be talking to right now.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy.

"Go away, Matt," she sniffed, wiping away a tear. "I just want to be alone."

Matt didn't move, just stood there, looking at her with those piercing blue eyes. She could see the conflict in them, the part of him that wanted to help and the part that knew he shouldn't. Finally, he seemed to make a decision.

"Look, I know I'm not supposed to talk to you right now, but I can't just leave you like this," he said, taking a step closer. "Just let me… I dunno, just stay for a bit?"

Y/n hesitated, feeling a mixture of annoyance and relief wash over her. "Fine," she muttered, turning away and curling back up on the bed. She heard him sit down next to her, but she didn't look at him. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

Time seemed to drag on as they sat there in silence. Y/n didn't know what to say to Matt, or even if she wanted to say anything at all. She just wanted to be left alone to wallow in her misery. But after a while, she felt Matt's hand on her shoulder, and when she looked up at him, she saw the concern etched into his features.

"He wasn't worth it, you know," he said gently. "You deserve better than that."

Y/n wanted to roll her eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to be that mean. "Thanks," she mumbled. "I guess."

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not trying to make this about me, or anything. I just… I care about you, you know? And I hate seeing you hurt like this." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I mean, if you want, I could make you feel better. You know, take your mind off things for a bit."

Y/n looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice wavering. She knew what he was insinuating, and despite the anger and hurt that still coursed through her veins, a small part of her was curious.

"I came over here to smoke with Nate, but he went to the gas station to get us some snacks." he says, pulling a pre roll out of his jacket pocket along with a lighter. "what do you say?" He flicks the lighter on and holds it under the joint.

she nods and they sit together on the floor to smoke. He hands her the joint and she takes a long drag, feeling the familiar warmth spread through her chest.

"It's not fair, you know?" she says, her words slightly slurred. "I was happy with him, and now he just… just throws it all away."

"Well," Matt says, taking the joint back and taking a drag himself. "It's not like you could really say you lost anything." He pauses, looking at her intently. "Besides, you've always had me, haven't you?" He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/n pokes Matts shoulder, "shut up'' she teases, but there's a hint of a blush creeping up her neck. "You're such a jerk sometimes."

"And you love it," he says, laughing. Y/n lays her head on his lap. "I'm serious, though. You're too good for him. Better things are coming, I promise."

They sit there, the smoke from the joint swirling around them, and Y/n begins to feel a little bit better. Not great, but better. She realizes that maybe Matt was right; she had always had him. And while she knew she couldn't rely on him for everything, it was nice to know she had someone who cared about her.

"what if i just kiss you?" Matt says, breaking the silence. "just to make you feel better?" He looks down at her, his expression serious.

Y/n laughs, shaking her head. "You're such a dick," she says, but she can't help the tiny smile that creeps onto her lips. "Fine, but only if I get to kiss you back."

Matt leans down, his lips meeting hers in a soft, gentle kiss. It starts out sweet and innocent, but quickly deepens, their tongues tangling together as they explore each other's mouths. Y/n feels a jolt of electricity run through her body, and for a moment, she forgets all about the pain.

When they finally pull away, they're both breathing heavily, their faces flushed. "See?" Matt says, grinning. "I told you I could make you feel better."

"Yeah," Y/n says, her voice slightly raspy. "You did."

"what if i do it again?" He says, his hand resting around her neck, pulling her closer. Y/n feels herself growing wet between her legs.

"Okay," she whispers, and then he's kissing her again, his tongue dancing with hers, and she loses herself in the sensation. She forgets about everything else except for the way his mouth moves against hers, the way his hand feels on her skin.

When they finally come up for air again, she's breathless and disoriented.

Matt kisses her neck, trailing his lips down to her collarbone. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, nibbling gently on her skin. "And you taste so good."

She moans softly, arching her back into his touch. "Matt," she whispers, her fingers tangled in his hair. "I…"

He looks up at her, his eyes intense. "Do you want more?"

She nods, her heart racing. "Yes," she whispers. "I want more."

He pulls back, looking down at her body. "You're wearing that?" he asks, gesturing to her tank top.

She nods, suddenly self-conscious. "I don't have a spare."

He smiles, running his fingers down her stomach. "Then we'll just have to make do." With a swift motion, he rips her tank top off, revealing her bra to the cool night air.

Y/n gasps, her nipples hardening instantly. "Matt," she whispers, her hands going to his shoulders.

He leans in, taking one of her nipples into his mouth and sucking gently. "God, you taste so good," he groans, moving to the other one. "So fucking good."

She arches her back off the floor, her hips writhing as she feels the sensation building inside of her. He reaches down, unbuckling her jeans and sliding them down her legs, revealing her black lace underwear.

"You're so fucking hot," he growls, his voice thick with desire. He pushes her jeans and underwear down her legs, revealing her completely. "I've wanted to do this for so long."

He leans in, kissing her again, his tongue dancing with hers as he pushes his body against hers. She can feel him hard through his pants, grinding against her. Her breath hitches as she feels herself growing wetter, more desperate for him.

Matt breaks the kiss, his eyes searching hers. "Tell me you want this," he whispers. "Tell me you want me."

She nods, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "I want you," she whispers. "I want you so much."

He groans, pushing her back onto the floor, his weight pressing down on top of her. His hand finds its way between their bodies, sliding over her wet folds. She gasps, arching her back off the floor, her hips meeting his touch.

He thrusts his fingers inside her, finding her entrance easily. "God, you're so wet," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "So fucking hot."

She moans, her head spinning with pleasure. She can feel him moving inside her, his fingers finding a rhythm that sends shockwaves of pleasure through her body. "Matt," she whimpers, her fingernails digging into the carpet. "I'm going to… I'm going to…"

"Come for me," he whispers, his lips against her ear. "Come on my fingers, baby."

And then she's coming, her body shuddering with the force of the orgasm. He thrusts his fingers inside her again and again, milking her as she cries out his name. When she finally goes limp beneath him, he groans, sliding his fingers out of her and rolling to the side, panting heavily.

Matt flips her around so her stomach is on the floor. "you're gonna be a good little girl, aren't you?" he asks, his voice rough. "You're gonna do whatever I tell you to do?" She nods, still breathless, her heart racing. Matt spanks her, "i'm gonna need words, baby." he says. "Y-yes" "Good girl," he says, and then he removes his belt and ties her hands behind her back.

"You're gonna take my cock like the good little slut you are, right baby?"

"Y-yes," she moans, arching her back, needing him inside of her.

He pushes her legs apart, revealing her wetness, "so wet for me, baby" he says, and then he pushes inside her, groaning as he feels her tightness. He begins to thrust, hard and fast, their bodies slapping together in a rhythm that's almost painful. "Fuck, you're so good," he growls, his teeth gritted.

"can you stay quiet for me, baby?" he whispers, his lips against her ear. She nods, her eyes closed."i need words baby" he says,

"Y-yes, Matt" she moans.

"That's it, that's what I need. Fuck, you're driving me crazy." He picks up the pace, his hips slamming into hers as he thrusts deeper and deeper. "You feel so good," he grunts, "so fucking good."

Her head falls back, her body trembling as she feels herself building towards another orgasm. she lets out a whine, "Matt, I'm…"

"Don't you dare," he warns, his voice low and threatening. "i told you not to make a sound." he says, slowing down his thrusts and edging her.

she lets out a cry at the loss of pleasure. "I'm sorry," she whimpers.

"are you gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?" he asks, his voice strained.

"Y-yes," she whispers, tears rolling down her cheeks.

He picks up the speed, fucking her harder and faster, his hips slapping against hers. "That's it, taking my cock like a good girl" he growls. She can feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge, the tension building inside her.

"Please?" she says, her voice cracking, "Please what princess?" he teases, "P-please let me cum" she whines. "Go ahead, baby."

And then she does, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm. She cries out, wave after wave of pleasure wash over her. Matt groans, thrusting hard.

"M-matt! " She whines, overstimulating. "Take it." He growls. "i-i cant !" she cries. "Hold on for me, baby."

Matt continues to thrust into her.

"I'm gonna cum, baby." he says. "M-me too" she whispers, already feeling another orgasm building inside her.

"Good girl." He says, and with a final thrust, he cums, filling her up. He collapses on top of her, his weight pressing her into the carpet. His breath comes out in ragged gasps as they both catch their breath.

"That was…so good," he whispers, kissing her neck. "You're perfect, baby." She nuzzles into his chest, her body still tingling from the pleasure.

Taglist - @gvf23 @3kslav

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #nate doe #nathan doe #nathan doe x you #nathan doe imagine #nathan doe x reader #nate doe smut #the sturniolos #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo edit #nicolas sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo icons #nicolas sturniolo fanfic

[nothingelsematterswrites]

why logan isn't getting replaced at imola, a breakdown

(aka a breakdown so my fellow logan girlies (gn) don't break down)

I've seen this getting around, with a little traction and some people panicking a bit so let's discuss.

Joe Saward has not been a reliable source of transfer news for some time. Let's be real. A lot of this is gaining traction because Saward is "a 35 year accredited F1 journalist". And this is true, he has long experience in F1 and is accredited in the paddock. But it has been many, many years since he was accurate about driver market predictions.

You have to be eighteen to get a superlicence (thanks, Max!). Antonelli does not turn 18 until August. For him to be granted a superlicence in time for Imola, the FIA would have to issue an exemption. If Antonelli was carving up F2 it'd be one thing. But he's been far from convincing so far, and it hasn't just all been Prema. He is an F2 rookie - and he looks like it.

James Vowles has already said that Antonelli to Williams next year is not a given, because Williams has its own juniors - of which Logan is one. Now I know James has been in the bad books with plenty of us since the whole chassis debacle in Melbourne but I do believe him on this. He is quite keen to establish that Williams is not a feeder team for Mercedes and that has been the board's position for some time too (remember their angry denunciation when the rumour was that Oscar was going to replace Latifi at Silverstone?).

James Vowles still believes in Logan. Now I know some of you will be claiming this is doubtful, but I do believe it to be true. In the Japan Vowles Verdict he was warm in his praise for Logan's race pace and early stint - to the point his voice literally changed tone while answering the question. He was absolutely effusive in his praise for Logan after the Melbourne debacle. I do genuinely think that James wants to keep him.

Bringing in a driver change mid-season is incredibly disruptive - you don't do it unless you are certain you're getting a better deal out of it. Last year Alpha Tauri brought in Daniel halfway through the year. The main reason for this was because he was a fairly immediate upgrade to de Vries. But even if you're scornful of Daniel's pace, the other reason they wanted him was for his feedback and car development ability, which AT were pretty vocal that they found invaluable. Bringing in an extremely green, unprepared rookie who has barely worked with the team would be a recipe for instability, morale issues, and more broken bits, which is the absolute last thing Williams needs.

Toto Wolff can't offer James Vowles a big enough incentive to take his junior. Let's cut to the chase on this: to insinuate that James would take Antonelli just because Wolff asked is a pretty big insult to James. He's not Wolff's lapdog. They clearly respect one another and have a personal relationship outside of the sport, but that doesn't mean he'll just do whatever Toto wants - he didn't get to be team principal that way. So Toto would need to offer James an incentive. But what can he offer that James actually needs? Williams aren't broke any more, so money isn't going to cut it. And Williams already run the Mercedes engine, so Toto can't convince him with that. What Williams actually needs - the cultural and procedural overhaul that James has begun - Toto cannot help with.

tl;dr keep cool and keep the faith, logan fans. there's still plenty of time left in our ride.

#f1blr #f1 #logan sargeant #james vowles #kimi antonelli #williams racing #keep calm and believe in logan #keep calm and believe in james

[missrosegold]

someone new

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

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

Word count: 16K

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem!reader)

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

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

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

Title is from Someone New by Hozier

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

Sometimes Touya wonders how he got here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was a joke if he ever fucking heard one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he met you.

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

-----

He remembers the first time he met you.

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

There he had started his rehabilitation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was more relieved than he thought he would be.

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

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

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

He remembers the day you met for the first time.

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

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

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

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

He sat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d grinned at his remark. “No.”

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

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

That caught his attention.

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

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of you? No.”

“You’re shitting me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were lucky you were attractive.

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

“Mr. Todoroki?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what now then?”

“Now we talk I guess.”

“About what?”

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

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

“…fine. Ask away, I guess.”

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… I’ll think about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had been nice. Comfortable, even.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You left.”

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

“Why did you go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want Touya?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. They not in the country, or—”

“We’ll go with that.”

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

“Sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the end, you’d kept your promise.

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

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

Surprisingly, you’d felt the same as him.

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted you to meet his mother and siblings.

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

His father hadn’t been invited for obvious reasons.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

His extensive skin care routine is one of those tasks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re home early.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really missed you; I mean.”

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

“Mmmm.”

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

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

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

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

He rolls his eyes at you. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not today babe, let me do the work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eyes on me gorgeous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m crazy remember?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you were better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know Touya. I’ve always known.”

FIN

#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

[catapparently]

Five Times Kaz Brekker Denied His Feelings and One Time He Didn't

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AO3 LINK

MASTERLIST

Request by anon!

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x female!Reader

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Kaz Brekker wasn’t known for being particularly emotional. If you asked anyone in the Barrel to describe his emotions, you’d be given the lack thereof as an answer. Though if someone’s ever seen the way the Bastard of the Barrel goes downright ballistic when his second-in-command gets hurt, the word to describe him would be angry. Furious- or more like a wild animal, protecting his own.

Nina had been the first to figure out that ruthless, cold Kaz had a penchant for his dear second-in-command. His heart usually had a steady beat, but when you would enter the room, his heart would skip a beat and set on an erratic pace, practically begging Nina’s Heart render abilities to calm him down.

It annoyed her just how stupid this man could be when it came to his own feelings, and if there was something you could say about Kaz, it would be that he’s probably one of the cleverest and most calculating people you would ever meet.. She was almost tempted to increase his heartbeat even more to the brink of a heart attack just for the sake of maybe making him realize just how in love he was with you.

The first time she’d noticed it was on a rainy evening. For the first time in forever, Kaz was in the Slat common room, sitting in front of the fireplace with the rest of their little team, planning another meeting at the Exchange. Nobody dared sit next to Kaz, even though there was another spot on the couch next to him. Inej was sitting on a windowsill as usual while Jesper and Wylan were squished together in the armchair. And Matthias was… well, Matthias. Ever the prude, debating whether he could publicly wrap his arms around her and hug her close or not.

Then you walked in, and Nina felt Kaz’s heartbeat spike. She’d initially been somewhat worried that he was having a stroke, not that she’d be fully devastated if he died. Then again, maybe even Matthias would miss the demjin.

You plopped down next to Kaz at a respectable distance, but to everyone else, you might as well be draped over him at this point. He didn’t say a thing. If anything, Nina swore she saw him take a bigger breath, as if he was lacking air.

“You’re late,” he stated, looking at you.

You scowled back at him. “Well, sorry, someone had me filing random papers and specifically told me to not leave the room until I was done.”

The Heartrender wanted to scream in frustration and tear Kaz’s terrible haircut off his scalp. Even Matthias hadn’t been this oblivious to his own feelings.

“You horrible, dense podge,” she muttered under her breath, secretly hoping Brekker had heard her.

~~~

Wylan sighed in frustration. This was the seventeenth time Kaz had made him redo a set of designs. He kept saying it wasn’t perfect enough, that the rings of the brass knuckles didn’t seem comfortable, that maybe they needed something softer around where the fingers would go; that maybe a fine plate of diamond over it would be more efficient… the list went on and on. Wylan was tempted to just dump the papers on his desk and tell him to design it himself.

“What do you even need these for?” the redhead asked. “Even if you steal all the materials necessary, commissioning a Fabrikator to make such sophisticated brass knuckles, a weapon you don’t even personally need, will cost you a fortune.”

Kaz scoffed. “You still speak like a spoiled merchant’s kid with a horde of tutors.”

The older man scrutinized the plans again, making sure nothing was missing. “It’s a gift for her. She needs them.”

He didn’t even need to mention her name for Wylan to know who he meant. There was only one person that the thought of could make his tone change like that and soften his gaze- even just a tiny bit.

Wylan cocked his head. “Why? Can’t you just get her a dagger or something? It’s much more efficient and a far bigger range.”

Kaz rolled the papers carefully and tucked them under his arm. “Her arms are strong and so are her hits. She has no technique though, so the deadliness of the brass knuckles should compensate for it. Besides, nobody can suddenly master knives. Knowing her, she’d knick herself instead of the opponent.”

If Wylan didn’t know any better, he’d swear that the smallest smile tugged at a corner of Kaz’s mouth, barely there.

“Does she matter that much to you, oh mighty Dirtyhands?” the younger boy lightly teased, hoping Kaz wouldn’t kill him for it.

“I can’t risk losing a very valuable asset.”

With that, Kaz turned around and walked out of Wylan’s little lab, leaving the sunshine of the Crows sighing at his denial.

Truth to be told, Kaz had freaked when he saw you bloodied, bruised and beaten on a simple mission. All you had to do was distract the guards while he broke into a vault. The guards had gotten suspicious and attacked. You hadn’t been able to keep up, instinct making you try to punch back aimlessly but without doing much damage. Kaz had heard the commotion and quickly stepped out of the vault.

He’d frozen. Kaz Brekker does NOT freeze. At that moment, he was Kaz Rietveld. Kaz Rietveld, watching his brother get beat up by a lowly thug. Every single cell inside of him screamed at him to do something, to risk something.

When the two of you finally made it out alive and got back to Slat, you expected him to scold you for not being good enough. For not being charismatic enough like Nina or Jesper or as stealthy as Inej.

Instead, Kaz locked himself in his office and spent all night finding a way to help her in fighting.

~~~

Jesper wasn’t sure what was going on. Kaz had given him a heavy bag of kruge and sent him down to the auction house.

“With how much you gamble, you’re excellent at randomly yelling out big sums of money,” he’d told him. “You’re walking out of that auction with that DeKappel oil painting of the beach. I don’t care how much it will cost.”

Jesper had felt absolutely insulted. Randomly yelling out big sums of money? Who did Kaz think he was? It wasn’t random. Jesper put utmost thought and precision into his choice of what sum to yell out when he was making a very risky gamble.

He had no choice but to go down to the auction house. He had to sit there for hours. The item he’d been tasked to bid on had yet to appear. So far, he’d seen some ancient lipstick that belonged to a star from many centuries ago and some queen’s rotten panties, which sold for more than Kaz could steal in a lifetime.

Why hadn’t the said man stolen the painting instead? It would surely cost a fortune. Since when does Kaz acquire stuff honestly, anyway?

Finally, after waiting and waiting and resisting to bid on a gorgeous set of diamond encrusted bullets, the infamous painting appeared on the auction stage. Jesper stared at it, dumbfounded. It was… just a painting. He was expecting something enchanted, something special. Not… a painting.

It was pretty, sure, but it was a basic depiction of the beach; turquoise waves crashing on the shore with a sun hanging low on the horizon.

But Jesper was a good boy, so he did exactly what he was told to and bid all of the money in the bag. Then he brought home the canvas, carrying straight up to Kaz’s office.

He looked at Jesper oddly as he entered. “What are you doing with it in my office?”

Jesper huffed in annoyance. “No ‘why, thank you, oh gorgeous and wonderful Jes’? I went through so much mental pain to get this painting for you. I even watched stale old grandma panties up on display for Saints know how long.”

Kaz shot him a cold glare. “It’s not for me.”

“Oh? Then for who is it?

“…”

“Aww, does the mighty, ruthless Dirtyhands have a little crush? A little, itsy-bitsy weakness? Is there something going on between the two of you? Is- OW!” The sharpshooter yelped in pain when Kaz’s lead-lined cane jammed into his side. If looks could kill, Jesper would be long since buried six feet under, underneath a pile of bricks that Kaz dumped on him brick by brick.

“There’s absolutely nothing going on. If you don’t want to die, then you can go up and help her place it on her wall.”

Jesper’s pain- both mental and physical- lifted in an instant. So the painting truly was for you. Adorable. He sauntered out of the office and down to your room, which was conveniently located right under the attic, closest to Kaz’s.

He didn’t even bother knocking, knowing he’d find you there, either lazily curled up in your bed or munching on sweets.

“Darlin’, look what good ol’ Kaz got you!” he exclaimed, waving the canvas in your face.

You stared at it, a soft smile gracing your features.  “Kaz got it?”

“Well, to be fair, he sent me out to get it since he’s a lazy shit, but it’s still from him.”

You smiled and bounced out of your bed, taking it from him and placing it on a nearby hook on the wall where you used to hang a darts target before it broke because of overly angry dart throwing.

“So he really did remember.”

“Remember what?” he asked.

“Sometimes I tell him about my childhood and my travels. I once visited the beach in the Southern Colonies when I was a kid, and I still remember how magical it looked. I kinda miss it.” You stared fondly at the depiction of the beach.

Jesper was once again left standing there, dumfounded. Kaz had gotten her a painting of the ocean just because she missed the beach? Kaz? Kaz?!

And he dared say there was nothing going on between the two of you?

~~~

“Can’t you ask any nicer?”

Kaz scoffed. “Oh darling Inej, treasure of my heart, will you do me the honor of teaching my second-in-command how to fight?” he answered, a sarcastic tone taking over the usual cold one.

“Fine. But why is this so important to you?” the Suli girl asked.

“I can’t afford to lose such a valuable asset to the Dregs. I can’t always be there when she’s in trouble; she has to have a way to defend herself.”

A valuable asset? It was just as bad as back in the day when he’d call Inej a very important investment. He hadn’t changed a single bit.

Inej sat on the edge of the windowsill again, crossing one of her supple legs over the other. “I don’t suppose you gave her a weapon to work with, at least?”

“I commissioned a Fabrikator. Lead-lined brass knuckles with a fine diamond plating on the impacting area.”

A surprised look appeared on Inej’s face, along with a slight twinge of something in her heart. Kaz had gotten her a pair of brass knuckles at some point in time too, though they were plain.

She didn’t exactly have a right to feel jealous. After all, she was the one who’d pretty much rejected him. She wanted someone who she’d be able to touch, someone she could actually kiss and hold. It had hurt her at first, to definitely cross out Kaz in her heart, but she knew it was for the better. She deserved what she wanted, and she wouldn’t settle for anything else. Besides, why should she give up on her dreams of hunting slavers for a man?  

She was genuinely happy for you. You were fine with Kaz’s touch aversion and his rather slow improvement. The both of you fit together well.

In her opinion, Kaz had been more in love with the idea of her than actually her.

“Okay. I’ll teach her.”

Kaz gave a slight nod. That was probably the closest to a thanks that she’d ever get from him.

“I heard that some people down in the Fifth Harbor are planning on selling some good ships,” he started. “Thought you might want to know.”

Her lips curved into a smile.

So long, Kaz Brekker.

~~~

Matthias thought he’d seen it all. He’d seen Grisha on parem, flying through the air and turning into water. He’d seen –and experienced- a gang of teenagers stealing a tank from the most safely guarded prison in the world and crashing it through a wall, then bombarding a bridge. He’d even see a girl, his girl, raise the dead and make them attack people.

Though, quite frankly, this, by far, took the cake to the point where Matthias had to bite down on his palm to make sure he wasn’t drugged and delirious and was back in Hellgate.

What in Djel’s name?!

The moment was so intimate that he felt the need to bleach his eyes and never be able to use them again in order to give the two of you a bit of privacy. Even though Matthias was still new to the language and local slang, he found himself muttering, “what the fuck?!” over and over again.

Kaz had recently come back wounded from Djel knows where. His excuse was that he’d snuck into some clinic to steal something, and instead of making himself fake wounds with makeup, he decided to cut himself up to make it look more real.

Matthias knew the story was fake. That little demjin was lying through his teeth.

Anyhow, with whatever had happened to him, Kaz couldn’t move around well, especially with his teeth. He also looked sore, wincing every time he moved, especially in the arms.

Maybe Matthias should have expected this. Maybe not. He was halfway down the wooden staircase that led down to the Slat common room. Most of the members were out and about, in the Crow Club or doing Djel knows what.

Kaz was seated at a smaller table in the far back corner of the dining room with you across from him. There was a plate of food in between you.

Matthias rubbed his eyes again to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

You dug a fork into the food and lifted it up to Kaz’s mouth. Kaz, who obediently opened his mouth and took the bite.

What in the name of Djel?

His arms were stiffly bandaged up, and his posture was just as stiff.

Matthias groaned inwardly. He could already hear the “she’s a very important asset…” speech. He didn’t get paid enough for this. He whirled around and walked back up to his room and into Nina’s warm, sleeping embrace.

~~~

Kaz was feeling strange lately. His heart had been feeling lighter, and he could almost say he’d been in a good mood if it wasn’t for the headache he had. All of his thoughts kept circling back to you. You, you you and you.

It would have been annoying if he weren’t so fond of his best asset.  On an evening, he’d stood in the open doorway to your room to make sure Jesper had brought you the painting. He had to force himself to not smile at the thought of you going to bed and staring at the depiction of the beach, thinking about all those memories you had. That’s what he’d wanted. He wanted you to go to sleep thinking of a happy, carefree life. A life he wanted to give you but that he knew was impossible in the Barrel, so he’d settle for this.

You always refused to leave. He didn’t understand. You could go anywhere in the world. There was nothing keeping you here. He’d even give you the money for the travel and expenses if you needed.

Yet every time he brought it up, you always said the same answer. “I’m not leaving home, Kaz.”

His heart had soared with delusion and lightness. Home? Was he your home? He knew that he was overthinking it, but he could only dream.

It brought him to his current dilemma. What was going on in his heart? He knew he’d come to care for you more than he’d want to admit, but he also cared for Wylan, Jesper, Inej, Nina… maybe even Matthias too, even though he still wasn’t a major fan of the infamous blonde tulip. Even the tulip comparison someone had brought up was wrong. The Fjerdan was more like an overgrown weed you kept trying to rip out, but it only grew stronger and more resilient to your desperate tugs.

His heart fluttered when he looked at you. His heart lurched at the thought of you being in danger. His heart felt content when going to bed with you on his mind. His heart felt sad when dreaming about you and then waking up without you at his side.

He found himself standing at the door to her room again. His mouth twitched at the sight of the familiar sign that spelled your name. You changed it regularly, not liking the way you engraved your name, always complaining that a specific letter wasn’t curvy enough or another was too tall in comparison to the others.

You had personality. Kaz loved it.

He froze just as he was about to knock at that thought. Love? Was this love?

He didn’t even bother knocking anymore; he just burst through the door.

You were, as usual, seated in your bed. You’d been so insistent on getting one huge, soft bed instead of a smaller bed and a miniature couch. Kaz couldn’t complain; on rare moments of weakness, he often came and lounged on your cushiony mattress while the two of you made plans about missions and other stuff.

What caught Kaz’s attention was the little black ball of fluff with ears in your lap.

He swallowed thickly. “There’s a very strict rule that says no pets at the Slat. Not even crows.”

You look up at him with a grin on your face as you pet the small kitten. “Too bad. I’m keeping it. Forever and ever.”

Kaz sat down on the edge of the bed, his mind swirling and his heart still racing from his earlier realization. “I guess I can’t argue with you then, hmm?”

He hesitated. Then he removed his leather gloves, ignoring the slight widening of your eyes, and reached out a palm to lay it on the fluffy feline’s head. He moved his hand in a petting motion. He was pleasantly surprised that the contact didn’t affect him. Then again, animals were a different case.

“It’s cute.”

You didn’t say anything about him removing his gloves. Kaz liked that about you. You let him move at his own pace. You didn’t prod him or push him for more.

“What are you going to name it?” he asked.

You moved your hand down to rub the kitten’s belly, very careful to not accidentally touch Kaz’s hand in the process.

“I dunno. Either I’ll name it after you, Kazzle Dazzle or something, or I’ll find some other fitting name.”

Kaz let a slight smile appear on his face. He suddenly didn’t feel like keeping all of his guards up around you anymore.

“Don’t name it after me. Name it a real name, like Orion or Onyx or Jordie or Shadow-.” He held his breath, hoping you wouldn’t notice his intentional slip-up. He wasn’t sure exactly why he’d suggested that specific name to you. Maybe now that Pekka was no more, he’d healed a bit. Maybe he didn’t mind the little healthy reminder, a small piece of his brother prancing around with mice in its jaw.

Or maybe he didn’t mind sharing himself, all of his thoughts and past and trauma, with you.

“Hmm. Jordie. I like that.” You smiled fondly at him.

His hand slipped and brushed against the side of yours.

It wasn’t an accident.  

#fanfic #six of crows #six of crows duology #kaz six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #crooked kingdom #kaz x inej #past kaz x inej #kaz being kaz #kaz rietvelf #leigh bardugo #grishaverse #helnik #matthias helvar #the crows #nina zenik #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #wylan van sunshine #wesper #kaz x you #kazzle dazzle #kaz rietveld #soc #soc kaz #soc inej #kaz brekker/reader #kaz x reader #soc wylan

[bigtreefest]

Sick of It

Pairing: Boyfriend! Steve Rogers x Girlfriend! Reader one-shot

Summary: Steve looks good in everything and you’re sick of it. That, among other things.

Word count: 1,784

Content/warnings: Crying, comfort, angry feelings, kissing, mentions of body image issues, swears, snacks, non-sexual semi-nudity

A/N: I wrote this a couple weeks ago while I was feeling like absolute crap. I was so stressed and just wanted someone to hold. I know too many people relate. I think Steve would’ve been such a sweetie for this kind of moment.

Comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are so appreciated. Thank you for reading!!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

“I’m so fucking done.”

You slammed the door to the pantry as Steve looked over his shoulder at you from his spot on the couch.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” His words trailed down to you as stomped down the hall and slammed the door to his room.

Steve sighed and tossed the blanket off his lap, softly padding after you down the corridor. He leaned against the doorframe before lightly knocking with the knuckle of his pointer finger.

“Hey, you alright?” He faintly heard the sliding of his dresser drawers, frantically paired with the sound of clanging hangers in his closet.

Steve opened the door slowly to be met with the sight of you half naked, hoodie stretched over your one arm and head, only accompanied on your body by your socks and underwear.

You grumbled and sighed before pulling the hoodie fully down over your body, looking in the mirror before ripping it off and throwing it at him. Steve didn’t flinch, catching the beige hoodie he had been given in a stylist’s attempt to take him on as a client.

Steve had many pieces of clothing like that: obscure fashion pieces gifted to him because of his celebrity status. To a normal person, they were impractical and weird. Odd shapes for an odd body. They’d only look good on someone as hot as him, broad shoulders, skinny waist, and all. Any time you’d try to put on a piece of the clothing, you felt like it hugged your curves in all the wrong ways.

You sighed, but it was deep and guttural, bordering on a scream. The way every piece of clothing, which looks so trendy and stylish on Steve, draped over your hips in a weird way, drove you nuts. The colors didn’t look as good, the shape was meant for someone else.

You flopped down on the bed, still only in your underwear, as Steve grabbed a hanger, placing the hoodie on it and hanging it back in the closet.

He walked over to you, slotting his legs in between yours which swung off the bed. He leaned forward over you until his arms framed your head, one hand on each side, careful to miss your hair that was sprawled out over the comforter.

When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by a sea of blue. You wanted to melt instantly at the care and concern that Steve’s eyes held, before you remembered why you were so upset.

You rolled on your side with a groan, hiding your face in the plush covers before Steve did his best to brush the hair out of your way.

He continued to softly rub his thumb against your temple. “Jellybean, you wanna tell me what’s going on? What’s got you so upset?”

You sighed before speaking into the blanket covering your mouth. Even Steve’s super soldier hearing couldn’t decipher the muffled sounds.

“Can you try again for me? I didn’t quite catch that.”

You turned slightly and threw your hands over your face in exasperation before peeking through your fingers at the face full of love and kindness that was always waiting on the other side.

“I’m sick of it.” It came out still muffled by your palm, but understandable this time. Steve nodded in an attempt to understand.

“Sick of what, honey? Anything I can fix? Or at least help with?” He helped you up, sitting next to you on the mattress. He attempted to pull you into his lap before your stopped him, pushing his arms off of you.

“No! Stop it, you’re the problem.”

Steve was taken aback. He would never do anything to hurt you, not even accidentally, so he had no idea where this was coming from. He cautiously continued.

“I’m really sorry, bean. What did I do?”

You shook your head before it fell into your hands, tears threatening to dampen the heels of your palms while you sniffled,sucking your emotions back in. You took a deep breath before looking up at him with red eyes.

“You know what? Actually, nothing. I’m overreacting. Forget about it. Maybe I should just go.”

You stood up and began to gather your clothes from the floor when Steve stood to stop you, holding your hands against his chest.

“Wait, Jellybean, come on. If-“

You threw down your hands, releasing them from his grip as you continued to look down at your feet.

“Quit calling me that!! That’s the problem!! I’m not a jellybean!”

His head cocked to the side in confusion. “Honey, what do you mean? I thought you liked that nickname…”

You shook your head as Steve crouched down in an attempt to meet your gaze. “No, because a jellybean would fit in your clothes and look good. And I don’t at all right now.”

Steve cautiously moved a hand to your cheek, finally able to look into your eyes. “Hey, what happened? Did someone say something to you? Did I? If I did anything to make you feel like that, I’m so sorry. You’re so perfect in every single way, what’s making you feel differently?”

His other hand went to your other cheek and you grabbed his wrists, looking down again, kicking your feet. Your next words came out as a whisper. “Everything sucks. I’m exhausted, and my eyes keep twitching because of it. I couldn’t focus to save my life today. I thought coming over here would make me feel better, and I looked in your pantry to see if you had any of the good snacks and of course you don’t because you’re Mr. Healthy! None of your clothes fit or look good on me! I mean, why do your even own half this stuff!? So many pairs of fake glasses, your eyesight’s perfect-no. Better than perfect! You make stuff that’s not even fashionable or practical look good and I’m sick of it!” You were practically yelling now, your words growing in volume the more you kept going.

Steve simply nodded, letting you vent as much as you needed to and taking it all in. He knew he didn’t have good snacks, he had asked if you wanted him to pick up your favorites when grocery shopping last week and you said ‘no, that’s not necessary. I probably shouldn’t tempt myself anyways. I’m trying to be healthier.’ He should’ve gone with his gut. He wouldn’t blame that on you, though.

He knew his clothes were ridiculous, too, but he kept them around because he thought you liked them. And he loved the way they looked on you.

He also knew the game you liked to play of ‘is it a fit or are they just hot,’ looking at the ridiculous clothes designer brands would release and judging whether or not they were high fashion, or just on a person with a nice body. He had just never thought he would be the subject of it, or that it would bring you down this much.

Steve knew you hadn’t been sleeping well for the past month, too, but hadn’t said anything. He could feel the way you tossed and turned at 3am, before you finally fell asleep again an hour later, only to be woken up shortly after by the alarm clock.

You looked up again after Steve had been quiet for too long. You let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I think I’m just taking this all out on you because you’re here. Everything but you is wrong today, and I’m taking it out on the one thing that’s here.”

You shook your head, profusely apologizing before Steve pulled you in close against his chest. He kissed the top of your head as he rubbed your back.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Thank you for talking to me. I’m not the enemy here. I’m your teammate. Thank you for letting me in.”

“It just isn’t fair.” You spoke into his chest before looking up into his eyes again.

“Even when you’re concerned you’re still hot, too.” You rolled your eyes before throwing your forehead back in between his firm pecs.

“Steven. Fix it.” Came out mumbled in his shirt.

Steve laughed and nodded before kissing the top of your head again. “I think I have just the thing. Hold on.”

He meant that literally. Steve stood up fully and you wrapped your legs around him, clinging like a koala, as he walked back over to the closet. The fact that he did it so effortlessly made you feel a little better about yourself, but a super soldier could probably do that with anyone.

He browsed the rack and shelves before he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here it is. They let me keep these after I had to pose as part of a construction crew for a mission. Regular people clothes. None of that high fashion bullshit.”

You laughed against his neck before he set you down on the bed. He kissed the tip of your nose before sliding a dark gray sweatshirt over your head and sinking down to his knees to pull the light gray sweatpants up your legs. They fit just how your wanted and you beamed at him.

“Better?” You nodded.

“Perfect. Thank you, Stevie.”

He gave you a wink. “Of course, jellybean. I think these fit you just right, but maybe your outfit’s missing something. I might still have the reflective vest around here somewhere, or maybe you need a good pair of fake glasses to top it off?”

You giggled and pushed his shoulder. “Absolutely not. I think the only thing that could make this better is if you had real snacks in the pantry.”

Just then, the both of you heard a knock on the door. You perked up and looked over Steve’s shoulder before raising an eyebrow at him. Steve looked back at you sheepishly.

“I think your prayers have been answered. I texted Buck and asked him to pick up your favorites the second I heard you huffing while searching through the cabinets.”

You smiled before wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you. You’re perfect, even if it’s a little infuriating how much so.”

Steve laughed and wrapped his arms around you again, carrying you towards the front door to retrieve the package. “Perfection means nothing if I can’t use it to make your life better. I love you, Jellybean.”

You smiled as he set you down on the couch and handed you a bag of snacks before cuddling close and pulling the soft throw blanket back over the two of you. You placed your hand gently on his cheek. “I love you more, Stevie.”

Bonus A/N: What’s your favorite snack/candy? I’m currently rocking with those nerds gummy clusters. So good.

General Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen

#steve rogers #Steve rogers fanfiction #Steve rogers fluff #Steve rogers comfort #Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #marvel #marvel fanfiction #captain America #captain america fanfiction #boyfriend Steve #boyfriend Steve rogers #boyfriend! Steve rogers x girlfriend! reader #boyfriend Steve x girlfriend reader #chris evans #bucky barnes

[morganacorp]

"Everything okay?" Lena asked as she came out of Kara's bathroom, finding Alex and Kara with their arms crossed and worried looks on their faces. As soon as she was in front of them, she saw Alex's face harden and Kara's eyes became accusatory.

"Have you been working with Kryptonite?" Alex asked with a cold voice, the same one Lena knows is reserved for criminals.

"I- what's happening?" She chuckled, confused and feeling exposed. One moment she had been hanging out with Kara, some romantic vibes between them, and then the next moment she was being questioned by the Director of the DEO.

"Answer the question, Lena." Kara said barely above a whisper.

"Have you been working with Kryptonite, Lena?" Alex asked again.

"I have." She frowned and Alex rolled her eyes while Kara looked down. "But it's not-"

"You said you wouldn't make any more kryptonite, Lena. You said you'd let Kara know if you made more." Alex said, obviously angry.

"how do you know I'm-"

"We caught the radiation signature in your apartment." Alex said and Kara simply stood behind her, unable to look at Lena.

"That's impossible, I've been working on it in my lab, and I've taken all the-"

"How could you?" Kara finally broke her silence, looking up at her with that self righteous disappointment that was so typical of Supergirl.

"Kara, I'd never do anything to hurt you-" Lena frowned.

"You made kryptonite again." Kara said with bitterness, a heavy tear dripping down her cheek.

"And you just jump to the conclusion that it was to hurt you." Lena scoffed, a bitter smile on her face. "I'm a Luthor, right? You've never trusted me and never will." She whispered and walked to get her coat before her own tears made an appearance.

"You can't leave. Where are you going?" Alex said with an authoritarian voice.

"You're welcome to arrest me if that's what you think you should do, Director Danvers." Lena said simply, walking out the door of Kara's apartment.

Years of effort pulling her walls down gone in an instant, all of her alarms and protections coming back to wrap her heart in barbwire to protect it, even if it was already bleeding.

"Director Danvers." A DEO agent told Alex, bringing a heavy looking briefcase to her while she worked with Brainy and Kara in her lab. "A messenger brought this for you, it's from Miss Luthor."

"Did Lena bring it?" Alex asked worriedly, looking over at her sister.

"No, ma'am."

"Thank you." She said and the agent walked away.

"Can you see inside?" Brainy asked and Kara shook her head.

"It's lined with lead."

"Kara, you should step back in case this is-"

"she wouldn't, Alex."

"You said the same about her making kryptonite." She mumbled and moved the briefcase away from Kara. She opened it slowly and looked at the contents confused.

"What's in there?" Kara asked curiously.

"it's-"

"it's brilliant." Brainy said, grabbing the tiny red box that wasn't bigger than a bar of soap and looking at it curiously.

"What is it?" Kara asked and walked closer to inspect the artifact too.

"It's- Lena has perfected the nano suit I created for you by teaching the nano technology how to filter Kryptonite. This should be sufficient in case of mild exposure." Brainy smiled, fascinated by Lena's work. "This is basically her combining the armor suit with the one we made, making it the best of both worlds, so to speak."

"Oh..." Kara sighed.

"Oh... Shit." Alex whispered sadly, watching something on the computer.

"what is that?"

"her lab logs." She said sadly, showing her the screen.

"Lab Log for a personal project. Video for my personal reference only, and for DEO registration as Kryptonite will be used. Day 1 on the project to develop filtering nanotechnology for Supergirl. I will create a suit that will keep Supergirl safe from kryptonite exposure, eliminating the limited mobility on the armor suit." Lena's voice said and the camera footage showed her arranging different kinds of chemicals and other stuff she'd need. "Step one will be creating supercharged kryptonite to ensure the maximum protection of the suit. A safe decontamination protocol has been established in case of emergency." Lena explained and started the process.

"This is dated... This was the week after you were attacked by kryptonite at the museum."

"She wanted to protect me." Kara whispered, feeling her heart breaking in her chest. She had been caught by surprise and barely made it out alive thanks to J'onn and Nia, but she had to spend two days under the sun lamps to recover from the horrible beating she took. Lena stayed by her side every minute.

"What's in that box, Alex?" Brainy asked and pointed at the larger box in the briefcase.

"The kryptonite Lena made... It's a lead box." She said, swallowing hard.

"I have to fix this." Kara shook her head and flew out of the DEO as fast as she could, making her way straight to LCorp.

Lena was sitting on her white couch, looking defeated and exhausted with a drink in her hand. She didn't notice Kara at first, but when she did her face hardened, becoming a perfect angry mask made of marble to protect her.

"Lena."

"Please leave." She said with a cold voice loaded with emotion.

"We need to-"

"I'm moving back to Metropolis." She said coldly. "I made a mistake by moving here. The first of many mistakes, in fact." She said bitterly. "I will send all the devices and prototypes I've created for Supergirl and the rest of your super friends to the DEO for you to dispose of them accordingly. You'll realize that some of them are finished and others aren't, but what you do with the technology is up to you." She said and Kara stepped closer.

"Lena, let me talk to you-"

"There's nothing to talk about, Kara. You have never trusted me, and it's obvious that the shadow of my name and my brother will always be present between us. I can save the world by your side ten times, and yet there will always be a black stain on the white sheet: my family." She rationalized, walking to pour herself another drink.

"I trust you with my life, Lena. You know it."

"As soon as you learned about the kryptonite you assumed I wanted to hurt you." She scoffed. "That's not trust, it's the opposite." She said looking coldly into her eyes. "I'll always wake that sentiment of suspicion on you, Kara. It will always be there with you and your sister, and even your friends-"

"they're your friends too! They're-"

"they have always been your friends. I was just one more who got to tag along." She said and cursed herself for allowing a tear to escape.

"Lena, you know I love-" Kara whispered, stepping close to Lena and wiping the tear away with her thumb.

"don't you dare finish that." Lena warned her coldly with a quivering lip, the raw hurt in her voice making Kara realize how badly she hurt her. "Please go and stop hurting me." She whispered. "I'll disappear from your life and everything will go back to normal." She said, full on crying now. Kara always knew how to unlock her emotions.

"I don't want you to disappear from my life." She sighed, cupping Lena's face like it was a fragile thing. "You are my life."

"Miss Luthor, the helicopter is ready to take you to the airport." Lena's assistant said from the door, a little shocked to find Supergirl wiping her boss' tears.

"I have to go." Lena said, closing her eyes for two seconds to enjoy the warmth that Kara's hands brought to her face, the same warmth she brought to her life.

"Stay." Kara asked her softly. "Stay with me."

"Goodbye, Kara." She whispered and walked way using every ounce of strength in her body. She sobbed in the elevator ride and tried to look put together enough while getting on the helicopter, ignoring the red cape waving in the wind while Kara watched the love of her life leave her behind.

#lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp #fanfic

[aliidarling]

using you

RICK GRIMES X fem!reader

nsfw content — scroll if uncomfortable!!

summary: rick takes his anger out on you after lori's death because he's a self projecting loser and wants u really bad

warnings: p in v, no foreplay, rough sex, pussy slapping, age gap, degradation, mean rick, fingering, anal threats LOL, self projecting rick, old lonely rick, sweetish rick at the end ig

btw thank u everyone for sending me ideas for male manipulator rick pt.2 :) I'm definitely gonna take these into thought and write sum

i wrote this in three sittings like a week apart so some parts might not match up...

nsfw content below!!

Rick hadn’t come up from the basement of the prison in almost two days. No one had seen him, leading everyone to question if he was even alive anymore.

The death of Lori had impacted him. The atmosphere was tense, and not many words had been spoken. No one wanted to go down to comfort Rick, not wanting to get snapped at. Angry Rick was something else.

Hershel was the one who recommended you to go down and talk to Rick. At first, you were against it, because why? Carl was his son, Glenn was the first one he met out of everyone, and Daryl was like his brother. There was no reason why you should. You were just one of the younger girls in the group.

“Because he has a soft spot for you, sweetheart.” Hershel says gently, sighing and rubbing his temple. Your brows furrow as you think about his words.

“What? No— Rick hates me,” You scoff.

Every time you had tried to talk to the man he’d order you around and be cold to you, never letting you breathe without getting a stupid scolding. It was walking on eggshells around him.

“No, no.” He chuckles, brushing his hands through his thin white hair. He sits up. “He cares about you in his own little way, okay? You’re the only one here he wouldn’t hurt. Not that he’d hurt anyone else— but…” He groans. “You know what I mean.” 

You frown at him, picking at your hair. You reluctantly stand up, tossing your jacket on top of your shirt. “If I don’t come back in an hour, you know what happened.” You grumble dramatically.

He rolls his eyes and waves you off, giving you a little grateful smile.

A few minutes later, you were walking down the staircase into the boiler room, a frown painted onto your expression. You could hear angry muttering and the sound of metal clattering.

Just on your way here you had heard him yelling, you didn’t know at who. It worried you, was he already going crazy? Or was someone else down here with him?

As you walk inside the small, dark room, a messy-looking Rick comes into view. His hair was messy, his curls damp with sweat as he grumbled angrily to himself, leaning against a table.

He quickly turns at the sounds of your footsteps, hands on his hips as he narrows his eyes at your figure. What the hell were you doing here? Did no one get the message that he wanted to be left alone?

“What.” He huffs firmly, his body language cold and distant. He was always mean to you, but this just felt different, like he was a ticking time bomb. It made you shudder as you nervously picked at your hair, stepping closer.

“You’ve been down here for a while, Rick. Everyone’s getting worried.” You said softly, looking up at the older man through your lashes. It felt weird to be so nice and caring to him, he had just lost his wife— you felt bad. Horrible, even.

And a part of you made your guilt ten times stronger knowing you were still attracted to him throughout this whole mess. Even though he had pushed you away so many times, called you names, and ordered you around like a child, you felt connected to him. Like you wanted more than a simple friendship.

But the fact he was mourning his wife's death and all you could think was how good he looked with his shirt half-buttoned and his curls messy? God, you were a horrible person.

A dry chuckle leaves him, the sound echoing in the room, making you shiver. His demeaning attitude towards you has you shrinking, wanting the walls around you to swallow you whole as long as that meant you didn’t have to be alone in a room with him.

“So worried they call you down here out of everyone else?” He scoffs.

Ouch.

“I’m just trying to be here for you, you don’t have to be such a jackass.” You sneered at him.

Once the words left your mouth, you felt kinda bad. He was struggling with his wife’s death, and here you were being rude to him.

A small sigh left you as you stepped forward, hesitantly placing your palm on his bicep, trying to give him a little bit of comfort. It was the least you could do, right? You had managed to screw up your entire friendship with this man, but maybe you could turn it around starting… now?

As he feels your touch on his bicep, he turns to you quickly in response— almost as a reflex— and presses you against the table aggressively. A yelp leaves you as you find yourself being cornered by the large man, looking up at him in shock.

Never mind, jeez.

“You wanna be here for me?” He growled, his hand going to hold your throat, not squeezing but keeping it there as a warning not to cross him.

You give him a shaky nod, not knowing what to say or do that wouldn’t cause his temper to blow. It already blew.. But you knew what he was capable of, and you were scared of getting on his bad side more than you already were.

“Use your words.”

“Yeah, I wanna help you.” You press your lips together nervously, giving him a hesitant nod.

His eyes darken, looking you up and down and weighing the options. He hums lowly, his hands slowly wrapping around your waist, his fingertips pressing into your skin through your shirt.

“Huh.” He can’t help but smile at you, but not a sweet one. A mocking grin. You shuddered.

“How about you start off by bending over that desk then? Since you wanna be good for me so badly.” He laughs darkly, flipping you around smoothly and kicking the back of your knee.

You stumble slightly and find yourself bending over the edge of the desk, a huff leaving you as you flinch in surprise. Instinctively, you try and straighten yourself but he keeps one of his hands pressed on your lower back.

“What are you doing? You know this isn’t what I meant—“ You say breathlessly, not having the power to fight back for some odd reason. The position had you tingling between your legs, your stomach in knots and your mouth dry.

You felt ashamed to be so into this. He was coping in an extremely unhealthy manner— but could you even stop him if you tried? Did you want to?

He ignores your words and grasps the back of your jacket, pulling it off and leaving you in your spaghetti-strapped tank top. It was hot in the prison, could you blame yourself for dressing in thinner clothing?

“Always dressed like a fuckin’ slut, begging for attention from me. Think I don’t notice? Hmm? How you’re always nagging me and trying your damnest to spend time with me?” His words leave him harshly as he leans over to push your hair over your shoulder, leaving your back empty for him without any distractions.

“Don’t say that.” You mutter softly, eyes fluttering as you feel his breath brush over your skin. Goosebumps appeared on your smooth skin, lips pressing together to conceal the heavy exhale you wanted to release.

“Why? Because you know I’m right?” He chuckles dryly. His hands rub over your back, grabbing the end of your top and pulling it up to bunch over your chest. Your heart skips a beat and you try to pull away, but he only pulls you closer, pressing his crotch firmly against your butt. He sighs in relief at the friction, grinding subtly.

The next few minutes are him just grinding against you from behind, muttering a mean ‘shut up’ whenever you’d let out a noise. This was for him. He didn’t care about you— didn’t care that he was leaving you needy and aching, all he wanted was to relieve himself.

“Take your pants off.” He grumbles, leaning back just a few inches to unbuckle his belt. He smoothly pulls it out of his jean loops, and then unzips his fly and pulls his jeans down. He’s fast and aggressive, and soon enough his hard cock is pressing against his lower tummy, his tip red and throbbing.

You blink in surprise, but you try and process his words quickly. Okay. He wants your pants off. This was for him to feel better, just take your damn pants off, dumbass. Don’t make his day worse.

Shakily, you pull your pants down to your ankles, your butt in front of him with your panties hugging your curvy hips. He stares down at you, eyes narrowing at the sight of the damp spot on your panties.

“Slut.” He kicks your legs open with his foot before landing a harsh slap against your pussy, making you cry out. Your brows furrow as you try to suppress your noises as he keeps going at it, his rough palm delivers harsh strikes to your sensitive area.

“O-Ow— Rick!” You whine, wiggling your butt as the slaps have you growing more and more wet. This was so embarrassing!

“Had I known you like gettin’ that pussy slapped I would have done it a lot sooner, sweetie.” He coos mockingly, a low snicker leaving his throat. He parts his hand from your panties. His large fingers grasp into your panties and pull them to the side, nudging your legs further apart and aligning himself with you.

“Take a deep breath, baby.” He huffs before thrusting himself inside you with one stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Your body tenses immediately, eyes watering at the large stretch your insides felt at the intrusion.

You immediately let out a shaky cry, clawing at the table for something to hold onto as you try and adjust to the feeling. His girth was thick, ripping you apart. The lack of foreplay and prep had you wincing.

“Awww, did I hurt ya’? Poor thing, little hole must burn sooo much.” His words sounded so mean, his dark eyes gazing down at your figure. He scanned each inch of your body. Your arch, your hips, waist, your hair— it all looked so good. He wanted to ruin you.

You struggle to speak as you feel him sit nice and snug inside you, your sight going blurry. You whimper like a pathetic puppy into the desk, the cold steel making you cringe and squirm. If he was gonna force himself in your pussy, couldn’t he of at least done it somewhere more comfy?

“S-Screw you,” You groan lowly, your eyes already rolling back. And he hasn’t even started to move yet.

“Mhmm, s’okay sweet girl, I’ll get there.” He hushed you gently. Your doughy flesh is so soft to his rough palms, making him smile as he grips your waist a little tighter. He uses your waist to hold you down as he starts to slowly pull out, leaving just the tip before slamming himself back inside. Not even a rag in your mouth could stop the moan that leaves you, your body wincing in a mix of pain and pleasure.

The next few minutes are messy and full of whimpering and shushing, your body quivering as he keeps thrusting into your hole like there’s no tomorrow. You were just a stress relief for him at the moment— a pretty face with a tight cunt he could fuck for hours.

Yeah, he was mean to you even before he decided to fuck you in this boiler room, but that was only because he didn’t know how to handle his emotions around you! You were a sweet young girl with a cute face and a good rack of tits, always trying to talk to him when he had a wife and a son, could he even interact with you without getting scolded by Lori?

He let out a shaky grunt as he slams his hips into you over and over again, watching your perfect ass jiggle at the force he put into you. Your noises were perfect, he had spent probably hours imagining how you’d sound with him inside you. He couldn’t count the amount of times he had imagined you while he was in bed with Lori. He was a horrible husband, but he blamed you for it. You were the reason of his lack of loyalty, so he may as well punish you for it. You were pretty much asking for it the second you came downstairs with that pretty face.

“Fuck, fuck,” He groans, bending over to press his chest flush against your back and pressing himself against you. He wanted you to feel every damn inch of him, feel how deep he was inside your dumb little pussy and how he made you feel.

“You feel that? Huh? Feel how fuckin’ deep I am inside that needy pussy? Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart, must feel so good, right?” He shushes your cries as he manages to push his cock deeper, his fat head brushing against your sweet spot that has you clenching down.

“Mhm, feels so good.” You sniffle. He giggled lowly at how pathetic you sounded, almost feeling the urge to comfort you for a second.

He’s wanted this for so long. Half the reason why he was spiraling after Lori’s death was because of the agonizing guilt he felt for still fantasizing about you when he had a whole newborn waiting for him. But now he had you, and he was not gonna let you go, and even if you begged and cried— he had already sunk his claws(cock) deep inside you.

His hand reaches to the front of your neck to grasp it and pull you tighter against him, giving your neck a little squeeze. He hums in approval at how your body tightens around him, his hips picking up speed.

“Good, good, jus’ like that, good girl,” He mumbled, squeezing his hand around your neck just a tiny bit more, loving the expression that fell over your face. A few more long minutes of him inflicting a fast and rough pace that expresses his self-projecting hatred towards you pass, the both of you out of breath and sweating.

“Can I cum? Please?” You whisper shakily, a soft moan coming from you as his thrusts continue. Your lips quiver and struggle to choke out words as you feel him repeatedly slam into your g-spot, eyes watering from the pleasure and your legs going wobbly.

“Oh, oh please, Rick—!” A loud moan escapes your throat before you have time to hold it back. You had been stripped down to a cheap whore bent over a table, but you didn’t care, it felt so good.

He answers your question by squeezing your throat, reaching forward to rub your clit. You clenching down on him has him groaning and almost stuttering with his thrusts, brows furrowing as he starts to get a little sloppy with his rhythm.

Without wasting any time, you feel yourself cumming hard around his cock and spasming, crying out at the force. A few more tears slip as you whimper onto the table, shaky hands grasping at anything to hold onto it.

A crooked grin paints his face as he gazes down at your shaky figure, slowly pulling out and watching his cum drip out of your leaky hole.

He hums and gently picks you up and sits you down on top of the desk, parting your thighs open and pressing the cum back inside you. Your eyes widen slightly in shock as his large finger shoves itself back inside you, making you cry out at the sensitivity you felt.

“R-Rick,” You attempt to plead before he rudely shushes you, crumbling apart as he fingers you open brutally. More tears stream as he watches with an amused glint, taking in the sight of you crying as he shoves his fingers inside your pussy violently.

“You can take it, shush, be a good girl.” He mumbles, sliding them in and out smoothly without any stop, his other hand going to rub at your spent clit. He almost felt bad for you, but then he remembered you were the little brat making him think like an unloyal husband— and he resumed with his torture.

Once he has you coming apart on his fingers again, he slides them out of you and whistles meanly, smirking at his slick-covered fingers. He maintains eye contact with you as he brings them up to your mouth, tapping them against your lips.

“Please don’t.” You whine, trembling in embarrassment. Could this get any more humiliating?!

“Shut up and be a good fuck toy.” He grunts. You shrivel and slowly part your lips, taking his wet fingers and sucking gently, your eyes fluttering shut as you didn’t want to look him in the eye while doing this.

After cleaning his fingers, he parts from you and gives you a once over, scowling.

“You’re not too bad when you’re not being an annoying fuck, y’know. Maybe you should bend over for me more often.” He sniggers, pulling his jeans back up and buckling his belt back on. He tidies up his appearance and gives you a side-eye.

“I’m so telling Hershel.” You grumble, struggling to pull your pants back on with limping legs. He rolls his eyes and aggressively tugs them back on for you. You flinch at the force and almost stumble onto your ass but you eventually have your clothes back on you because of his help. You give him an awkward smile, and he just glares at you in return.

“…I guess you could say I did help you, right?” You grin sheepishly, before gasping softly as he pulls you in for a kiss. He mutters a small “Shut up,” against your lips before interlocking his with yours, his hands wrapping around your waist and pressing your body flush against his.

He parts slowly from you, a small saliva trail showing before dissolving mid-air. He stares down at you, before nudging you in the direction of the exit.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, kay? You tell a soul and I’ll shove it in your butt next time, brat.” He scoffs, turning away and gazing back at the wall like the depressed old man he is.

You can’t help but smile as you walk away.

Next time, huh?

You were a little delusional, but why the hell not?

#Spotify #rick grimes #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead smut

[thewolveswolf]

here’s a quick recap of the last few days, bc idk whether to laugh or cry

cw & tw for mentions of narcissistic abuse, domestic abuse & mental health

took my cat to the vet bc her anxiety & overgrooming is still out of control

got home from the vet and she suddenly won’t put weight on her front right leg

take cat back to the vet, no obvious injury but painkillers are prescribed

4 days later mikasa has not improved, most likely a third vet trip tomorrow (also meaning i will have spent over $400 in less than a week on vet appts. worth it 1000% obviously. still a massive financial ouch tho)

while all that is happening, i find out the parent i have no contact with has:

started badmouthing me & my mum to parents of my high school friends (???? narcissists truly know no boundaries sksks)

HANDWRITTEN a letter to my nana (in ENGLAND!!! we live in AUSTRALIA!!!) stating he finds it “very odd” my mum no longer has any contact with him and he “doesn’t understand why” (uhhh maybe cos u threatened to kill her when she left u bro? and also every bit of abuse u levelled at us for the 30+ years before that? just a thought homeslice)

allegedly removed me from his will (inheriting some of ur genetics is enough for me dude, no sweat no sweat)

at the SAME TIME (bc god knows the universe has zero chill) my mother announces her boyf of 6 months is moving in (tbf he is lovely but jfc can everyone just slow down???)

both my siblings mental health are (understandably) collapsing

my anhedonia is now so bad i need to either increase my meds or come off them. pray 4 me either way

i ordered pizza last night and it was TERRIBLE. i’ve never had terrible pizza before, didn’t even know it was possible. fuck u dominos

this is five days worth of happenings. FIVE. DAYS.

anyway if anyone needs me, please look for the person-shaped lump hiding under some sort of blanket

#lets be real i’m hiding under the loads of laundry i cant bring myself to do #personal #i’m just so tired #and so sore #and so worried #and also angry #look at me naming feelings while feeling them #anyway ty for reading my vents

[kennahjune]

Flustered (But He’d Never Admit It)

Thanks so much to @rogueddie for letting me write this based on their post!!

( @steddiewithachance )

Desperately hope it lives up to standard 🫡

.

Eddie hadn’t planned on going out, really.

It was a Saturday and he looked forwards to sleeping until noon the next day. Maybe bothering Steve and Robin in Family Video at some point if he decided to grace the people of Hawkins with his presence.

But Nancy of all people had asked him to come. And when Big Wheels asked him to do something, Eddie sure as shit did it.

So he sat in the living room of Steve’s no-longer-really-scarily-empty house. Because Mr and Mrs. Harrington left after the earthquakes and gave the house to Steve. He’s been steadily personalizing it.

Eddie sat between Argyle and Robin on the couch, letting his gaze wander around and land on each photo hanging on the walls.

Nancy and Jonathan sat across from them on the other couch, Nancy’s feet thrown in Jonathan’s lap while he gently rubbed her calfs.

Eddie wasn’t listening too intently to the bickering going on around him, his mind in other places while waiting for Steve.

“HURRY THE FUCK UP, DINGUS!” Robin yelled. Speak of the Devil.

Eddie flinched, as Robin was directly in his fucking ear. He shot her a glare that she returned with a punch to the shoulder.

“HOLD YOUR HORSES, DIMWIT, IM DONE!” was what Steve yelled back from upstairs. Eddie and Argyle snorted at Robin’s offended gasp.

Steve appeared in the living room a few seconds later, struggling to tie his sneakers while hopping on one foot.

“You look like a worm,” Argyle pointed out helpfully.

Steve nearly face planted after he was done, his arms flailing and his hand catching on the back of Jonathan’s head.

“Ouch, dude!!” Jonathan yelled when Steve pulled his hair. Nancy and Robin absolutely cackled at Steve’s unapologetic shrug.

“My bad.”

Jonathan glared and rubbed the back of his head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Steve fluttered his eyelashes and put a hand on his chest. “You think I’m cute, Jonny? Why, you might as well get down on one knee!”

Robin clapped obnoxiously. “Congratulations on your engagement!”

Nancy gasped, pretending to clutch her pearls. “Jonathan! Another woman? How could you!?”

Jonathan groaned and threw his head back.

“See what you’re doing to this family, Jon!?” Eddie suddenly joined in, surprising a laugh out of everyone; even Jonathan, despite his efforts to remain angry-seeming.

Argyle whistled when they calmed down. “Damn, Stevie. Is that the shirt I got you?”

Robin perked up. “Hey! That’s my button up!”

Steve planted his hands on his hips. “And those are my earrings.”

Robin huffed and rolled her eyes, pretending to pout.

The outfit Steve wore was unlike what Eddie normally saw him in. The same blue jeans as always, though these ones seemed to hug his ass and thighs more (a detail Eddie most certainly saved for later). The button up (that was apparently Robin’s) was white pinstriped, hanging open and unbuttoned to show off the light purple, sleeveless turtle neck (that Argyle got him, apparently).

Eddie kinda wanted to bite him.

.

Jonathan and Steve were designated drivers. So everyone split between the two cars; Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle in one and Robin, Steve and Eddie in the other.

The bar they went to was a small one but was still packed on such a fine Saturday night. The group was quick to find a corner booth to seat all six of them.

Argyle payed for the first round of drinks, everyone just getting beer. But they were all quick to get to the vodka and other shit.

“You not gonna drink anything else, Stevie?” Eddie asked at one point when he noticed Steve was still nursing his first beer.

“Designated driver, remember?”

Eddie hummed and took his last shot, barely buzzed despite drinking so much already. “I could drive us back if you wanna just drink with everyone else.”

Steve eyed him and didn’t respond for a moment. Eddie was ready to take the offer back, play it off as a joke. It wasn’t even like he said anything flirty or whatever! Steve just made him nervous like that.

“Are you sure?” Steve finally asked, his voice timid even as he raised it to be heard over the music.

Eddie grinned. “‘Course, darlin. Lemme take care of it.”

Steve turned away and downed the rest of his beer quickly. Eddie turned back to Argyle and Nancy’s conversation and failed to see the deep red flush overtaking Steve’s ears.

.

That was maybe 20 minutes ago.

At this point in time, Steve was definitely passed buzzed and well on his way to drunk.

He was sandwiched between Eddie and Robin, his head leaning on Robin’s shoulder and his hand playing distractingly and absentmindedly with Eddie’s jacket sleeve.

Eddie tried to ignore how sweet Steve looked, his face flushed with the pleasant buzz and his hair kind of getting floppy because he kept playing with it. He looked so cute listening to Jonathan but still so spaced out and almost floaty.

Eddie kind of really maybe wanted to bite him. Maybe make him cry.

Jesus H Christ.

He took a big drink of his water. “I think I’m gonna head out for a smoke, be back in a few.” Eddie carefully removed his sleeve from Steve’s grasp, fighting off the cooing he so desperately wanted to do at the pout the other gave him for it.

Eddie left in no time, letting himself out into an alley next to the bar. His cigarette was short-lived and he went for another 2 after his first.

He refused to let his mind wander, instead focusing on the burn in his throat and the smoke in his lungs. He was sufficiently calmed down after an extra moment, finally going back in after what had to have been just shy of 10 minutes.

Maybe he should’ve stayed outside.

Because Steve was drunk now, to the point that Nancy had cut him off.

It was in that moment, walking back to the booth, that Eddie fully realized he’d never seen Steve drunk.

When Eddie came into sight of the table, Steve immediately jumped up in his seat and reached obnoxiously over the table to wave at him. It was adorably reminiscent of a 5 year old and a little puppy.

Eddie failed to keep the soft grin off his face. Not that he was really trying.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie greeted softly when sitting back down next to him.

“Hi, Ed!” Steve exclaimed loudly and excitedly, basically bouncing in place. Eddie really should’ve stayed outside.

“Steve’s a little drunk, don’t hold anything he may say or do against him.” Jonathan joked from across from them. Or, it seemed like a joke. His expression was playful but his tone was more serious than it let on.

“Oh? A little drunk? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so excited.” Eddie snickered.

“Hey!” Steve smacked at Eddie’s shoulder and immediately grabbed his arm afterwards, wrapping himself around it and holding on. Eddie felt himself grow hot under his shirt collar. “I’m always excited to see you, doofus.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. This was news to him. He shot a look to Jonathan who waved him off, turning to talk with Robin instead.

Eddie put his free hand over one of Steve’s. “Oh yeah, darlin? That’s news to me.”

Eddie watched in delight while a steady blush crept down Steve’s neck. He grinned dopily at Eddie, all teeth and gums and scrunched up nose. It was ridiculously endearing.

“Huuuuuussshhhh.” Steve pointed at him, his arm like a wobbly noodle and uncoordinated; he nearly smacked Eddie in the face. “‘Course ‘m always excited to see you. You’re you!”

Eddie stuck his tongue behind his bottom lip to avoid grinning like an idiot. Steve’s eyes followed.

“Alright, dork. I think it’s time to take you home.”

Steve squawked at being called a dork. Insisting Eddie was the biggest dork he’d ever met.

“You’re a Dork with a capital D!” Steve insisted while they weaved through the crowd. Eddie was taking Steve home early with Robin catching a ride with Jonathan.

Eddie snorted, holding back a comment on ‘capital D’ anything. He had a firm grip on Steve’s wrist, as his drunken friend got distracted at every little thing. After he ran off to talk to some stranger “because they had shiny earrings! I needed to know where they were from, Edd!” Eddie wasn’t taking any chances.

He had to physically buckle Steve up for him in the beemer, leaning over him and clicking it into place. Eddie chose to ignore the raging blush on Steve’s face in favor of a simple smirk.

Steve wouldn’t stop talking the entire ride and Eddie loved it.

“I really wanted to play volleyball as a kid but my dad refused because he thought it was too girly— and than I wanted to play hockey! And I would’ve if my mom wasn’t so adamant about it being too ‘aggressive’ and my dad just going along with it because he couldn’t care less either way— oh!! And then I played soccer for a little bit! Did you know Robin plays soccer? I think she used to be on the track team, too—“

Eddie couldn’t stop grinning. (He made a silent promise to ask Argyle about volleyball so he could play with Steve at some point.)

When he took the turn to Loch Nora Steve went quiet. A brief glance told Eddie he was staring out the window. He let him have another moment before speaking.

“You alright, Stevie?”

Steve’s response was delayed, his voice quieter than it has been all night. “Yeah, ‘m good.”

“You sure? You went awfully quiet over there, darling.” Eddie couldn’t stop the faintly concerned glance he shot to the side.

“Yeah.”

Eddie pulled over to the side of a fancy road, one side houses with huge yards and the other the trees spanning out into the woods. Steve jolted at the stop, glancing at Eddie’s faint reflection in the window.

Eddie twisted in his seat, reaching over to tap on Steve’s thigh to get his attention. When Steve looked over at Eddie he looked like a kicked puppy.

“Why’d ya stop?”

“Cause somethin’s wrong and you’re not explaining.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Sorry.”

Eddie smiled softly. “You don’t have to apologize, Stevie. I just need to know what’s wrong so I’m not sending you home while you’re in a bad place.”

Steve’s shoulders hiked up slightly. “Doesn’ matter.”

Eddie huffed, stopping his tapping on Steve’s thigh in favor of grabbing it gently. “Of course it does, sweetheart. If it’s affectin’ you this much it’s gotta matter a lot.”

Steve shrugged, trying to look away. Eddie let him, but kept his hand on his thigh and squeezed twice. Just to let him know he was there.

They were both silent for a moment. The two. Then—

“Don’t wanna.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Don’t wanna what?”

Steve response was slow, quiet. “Go home. Too quiet.”

Eddie’s breath left him in a quiet rush. Even if Steve was slowly making the Harrington estate more ‘him’, the memories it held would most likely prevent it from ever being ‘home’.

“You wanna go back to the trailer with me?” Eddie found himself asking.

Steve’s nod was hesitant, shaky like he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Eddie decided he was going to keep Steve at the trailer for as long as he can get away with this weekend.

“Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get goin then, yeah?” He patted Steve’s thigh twice and turned back to resume driving.

Steve remained quiet the rest of the drive, but he hummed along to the radio so Eddie deemed him a little better.

He parked on the side of the road, leaving the space next to the van open for Wayne’s truck when he got home in the morning.

Eddie had to help Steve up the porch stairs, letting him lean on his shoulder while fumbling with his keys. Steve was still humming to the last song that played on the radio.

Eddie gave Steve a pair of sweatpants and a shirt and silently praised himself for the flush settling down Steve’s neck. But then there was a flush settling down Eddie’s neck because Steve looked really good in his clothes.

They shared the bed like they usually did when they spent the night at each others places. Eddie took the spot by the wall and Steve climbed in to face the door. Eddie wrapped himself around Steve’s back with a hand on his waist and another under his head.

.

Did this take over a month? Nope. (Ssshhhhhhh)

I’m my defense: my biggest hyper fixation atm is ATLA 🤷

Am I happy with this? No, not really.

Am I posting it anyway? Sure am🧍.

Have fun with it ✌️

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle #these six as a friendgroup #steddie thoughts #steddie #drunk stevie #steve harrington gets flustered easily #but only when he’s drunk

[fjorests-of-wildemount]

I have talked quite a bit about this in the past, but given where we are in the campaign now and what has just happened, I wanted to put down some thoughts in a maybe, hopefully coherent kind of way. Mostly the thoughts chase each other around in my head going “brrrrr” so here’s hoping they cooperate.

Since we have known him, Orym has been on a Mission. When he first linked up with the Crown Keepers he had been on the road, presumably on his own, for at least four years, possibly five. At some time during those years, Keyleth charged him with finding out information on the attack that killed Will and Derrig to make sense of what happened that day. Early on he’s quiet, thoughtful, reluctant to take the lead, and honorable to a fault. Even as he opens himself up to create connections with this motley crew, he still guards part of himself. In fact, in the time we see them together he never tells the Crown Keepers about his family. The only mention we get is when he is asked by the Wildmother if he will continue on and Orym says, “For him, I will.”

None of this is to say he doesn’t feel connected to his friends, who manage to take him on a journey away from his primary directive, and–given the fact that Orym was alone at the beginning of ExU–it’s safe to say these are the first people he’s connected with in a long time. It was while he was with them that he started practicing the Zeph’aeratam again. Being part of the group with Opal and Dariax and Fearne and Dorian and Fy’ra showed Orym that the world was bigger than his grief.

But still, he kept it to himself.

After the events of ExU Prime, Orym and his two best friends from the Crown Keepers, Dorian and Fearne, went back to Zephrah. A place that I would argue Orym probably had returned to seldom, if not never, since Will and Derrig’s deaths. It was sometime during this journey that Orym told them both about his family, likely the first people from outside of Zephrah to know their names and what they meant to him. These friends went with him to continue his Mission, to try to help him get closure. And when Dorian left, Orym kept hold of the means to keep in touch, because Orym had gotten closer to Fearne and Dorian than he had gotten to anyone since he lost his family.

I would love to know what, if any, kind of conversations Orym had with Dorian and Fearne about Will and Derrig, especially Will. Because as the weeks went on, Orym did forge bonds with Bell’s Hells, he did start to tell more people about the ones he’d lost, but always at a distance. He kept the memories of who Will and Derrig were to himself, even as he was honest about how much he missed them. Did Orym take the chance to tell Dorian and Fearne about what they were like when they were alive? Because it’s clear that Orym is bereft, and angry, and lonely, and goes to sleep every night with them in his thoughts. Is there anyone else alive who knows the secrets of what Will and Orym were like when they were together, just the two of them?

There is nothing secret about the pain and anger he feels, but what about the joy?

The Mission as it was originally put to Orym is over now. They know everything about how and why Zephrah was attacked. That doesn’t mean Orym is stopping, because Orym isn’t the kind of person who could stop when someone is in danger. But the single-minded drive toward Otohan, toward answers and justice or whatever Orym thinks Will and Derrig would have wanted from him in this, was the mortar Orym used to build up his walls. He’s standing on a precipice of a vast future and he’s alone because he has made himself alone. His grief has made him alone. And there are so many complicated reasons why Dorian is the one he is finally, actually reaching out to now that there is no more path to shuffle down. 

I’m not sure if Orym even knows who he is anymore without this grief, without this Mission. In his mid-thirties his whole adult life has been spent married to Will, or grieving Will, or searching for answers for Will’s death. In the middle of the world ending, how do you decide what comes next?

A million episodes ago Orym offered to be the one Imogen could lean on, and then, after she walked away, he reached out to Dorian on the Sending Stone. I think Dorian has been the one Orym thought that he could lean on for a long while now. And I think that is intrinsically tied to his Mission, this journey, and his grief.

#critical role #bells hells #orym of the air ashari #dorian storm #I just have so many thoughts about him #can't believe we have to wait another week to see this unfold

[dotster001]

i was gonna make this a comment but smthn told me this was gonna be long.

SORRY FOR THE LONG-NESS OF THIS ASK

BUT DOT- THINK ABOUT YAN DILF JADE.

who knows if his ex wife was murdered or not, oh well! 🤭 best not to dwell on it because it makes the twins sad :(

see? (🧍🏻🧍🏻)

…anyways

but here me out (this is me going coco bananas. full on psycho mode) maybe the first time he saw you was at a RANDOM party that a friend of yours hosted.

blah blah mutual friend of a friend and that long friend family tree stuff

but maybe you slithered away to the dog, or were tasked with helping a baby (more like someone threw the baby at you in order to dance)

or you’re with the other room for the children that the party provides (this is like a really rich friend. like mega mansion. crazy rich asians kinda thing)

but ugh he’s there with his dreadful beautiful wife and his wonderful children. and his wife is already leaving to grab a drink and he thinks their children shouldn’t get a glimpse at whatever tom-foolery parties like these will lead to.

so in they go! (maybe this was years ago when they’re toddlers)

but then he sees you swarmed with babies. the nanny took a break and left you in charge and you’re fighting back babies with one of those roll-pop lawn mowers-

ARGHHH ONE JUST SPAT ON THE END OF YOUR RENTAL DRESS DAMNIT.

jade is utterly beside himself with laughter, amusement, and everything of the sorts and creates flirty small talk. and oh?? what's this? his wonderful bundles of joy seem to have found a liking to you? how precious (they’re clawing and climbing you like a jungle gym) jade takes a note of that!

they don't even like their mother that much , simply tolerating her. but jade can tell that his kids got good taste!

he lowkey interviews reader (without them know oops!!) and while yes, their beauty was what drove his interest, second being their personality (you have to be attracted to someone to give them a chance!)

and the twins were the cherry on top!

and conveniently you say where you work (rookie mistake) while he tells you he’s a humble business man… don’t ask what for tho cause that’s a super family secret 🤭

but he's planning and scheming and charming his way into your life and he’s in it for the long run because eels are patient. it just sucks that jade is even more patient, like a saint if you would

^^accurate depiction of saint jade

^^and this is jade when he gets questioned for his wife’s uh oh 🤷🏻🤷🏻

maybe she drank too much at a party and fell over the side.

maybe there was a targeted hit meant for jade but they got the wrong one.

maybe a classic batman scenario but jade survived and is throughly traumatized (same with his kids, i mean look at them!!🧍🏻🧍🏻 they’re so torn up that it just breaks his heart😿)

but he’s making chance encounters rather… commonly. (he had reader stalked for a good few years as he was planning everything. just to make sure he likes them& they keep it interesting.)

just... some thoughts about dilf jade leech and his hell spawns hehe (when the trio visited your work they managed to leave your section alone... so it looks like you were in the eye of the hurricane)

im gonna read your other stuff about dilf jade now because AHHHH

Angry at my boss, so I decided to see if there was anything in my inbox to cheer me up. Woo hoo!

In reference to this

Cw: light Yan!, implied stalking, Jade's a freak but if you don't already know that then you aren't paying attention

I can only imagine that, after the party, since you interacted with so many kids and parents that night, they all kind of blurred together. And it's not until, after he visits your place of work, and you chat over text for a while, and you have a real date, then invites you back home for an after date drink, do you start to remember. And that's only because the twins are scamps and stayed up past their bedtimes, and they are staring at you with eyes you remember.

Obviously, you are gonna chalk it up to a coincidence. "Oh my god! You know so-and-so, right? I think I met you at a party a few years ago!" He laughs, and plays along, oh my god,.yeah what a really good coincidence.

Meanwhile, the twins share a look, because Dad has talked about you every day since Mom died, so they know he's lying. Hell, when you aren't here, they already call you mama/papa. But, they are their father's kids, so they are never going to say anything.

One date turns to two turns to three, turns to a year of dating. It's time to meet the family. You know Jade has a twin, but they've taken different paths in life.

So when Dilf Floyd Trudges up the driveway with his six adopted kids, four of whom are sprinting around the house and lawn and destroying Jade's home, two of whom are under Floyd's arms like suitcases, you're in for a culture shock.

When you first meet him, he seems incredibly grumpy. He's got salt and pepper stubble, the baggiest outfit, though you get the feeling it's designer, no matter how slouchy it is, his hair is slicked back, making the grey streaks look neat against his otherwise messy look.

He tosses the kids and yells at them to go play with their cousins, then he rudely shoves past you. Jade stops him with a hand on his shoulder that appears gentle, but if you had felt the full force of it, you'd have landed on your ass. He hissed at Floyd, through a smile, to greet his new fiance. There's a tense moment where they stare at each other, then Floyd storms over to you, and presses a ticklish kiss to your cheek, before muttering, "Welcome to the family," then storming to his room and locking himself in for the night.

The next day it's like he's a different person. He makes breakfast for you and excitedly asks you about yourself, wanting to know everything about his future sibling. Eventually he pours you a glass of what you know is Jade's most expensive wine, which he has been saving for a special occasion, and you finally get the courage to ask about the night before, and he laughs and says he was tired from the trip. Wrangling six kids on an airplane is exhausting, you know?

You decide to ask him about little Jade, and Floyd's stories of childhood charm you so much that you don't notice Jade's brooding presence.

Not that Floyd minds. Yeah, he got off to a rough start with you, but he gets why Jade likes you. And Jade only has two parentless kids, he has six. So his kids need you more than Jade's do, right?

Will the dad's eventually drag the kids into this fight? Absolutely. Those kids have Mafia parents, they have plenty of acting training. They will be pulling those heartstrings of yours 😊

#just some thoughts #fun with moots #yandere twisted wonderland #dilf jade leech #dilf floyd leech #jade leech x reader