#but if i stay i cannot do anything because my body is filled with smoke and broken glass and im supposed to fucking get my drivers license

[skrunksthatwunk]

not to doomer post. but. american politics is like here's a conservative warmonger who wants to burn you alive personally and here's a different conservative warmonger who definitely wouldn't stop someone from burning you alive BUT who might raise the minimum wage by $0.30/hour for you, but only like eight years from now (so re-elect me please!! >w<). yes one of them has to be president they are the only two options we'll let you have. no neither of them will stop the government from killing you or anyone else, but at least one will say "it's kind of bad to kill people :( someone should really do something about that..." while giving the people-killers $20,000,000,000,000 to keep doing it then saying they can't afford to help you at all, but oh shucks, maybe next cycle, if you vote for me again! and also everyone will pretend as though they are extremely different political entities covering two highly polarized ends of the political spectrum despite nearly identical policy views obscured by their slightly different ways of addressing their target audiences, many of whom are also conservative warmongers. and also if you don't vote or vote third party the other guy will win and you will watch as they burn everyone you love alive in the same way they've burned so many strangers so you kind of feel like you have to vote for the other warmonger because even though they both have blood on their hands you'll take a handshake over an uppercut. even if you can still see the bodies piling up behind them. even if you can only save like five people you know and not the thousands of people who are dying in the other room. because you believe the difference between 30,000 and 30,005 is still worth it even though no one needed to die in the first place and no one seems to agree with you. you have to keep living in this world every day. if anything changes it will take decades and it will never be enough. if this takes a toll on you good fucking luck surviving off the generosity of the warmonger state that claims to serve you. happy voting!!

#like. yeah i'll take the raised minimum wage. i guess. but jesus christ #yes you are doing slightly good things sometimes almost. can you stop killing people though. please. that is a higher priority #like this is my first prezzy election season since i turned voting age right and like. what the fuck am i supposed to do now #what am i supposed to do with this. it took me 5 fucking months to pick a dead cockroach off my floor how am i supposed to fix this. #how am i meant to be a person and go on living while knowing i am doing nothing and cannot do anything and won't do anything #i need to fight i need to get up but i am stuck. im always stuck. i pray yknow. i don't know what else to do #how can people think about buying houses and getting promotions in this world. how are they not feeling likr their chest is caving in every #time they falter in their complex self-distraction. how am i supposed to do anything when all i can think about is helping and my body won't #let me. i cant do anything i cant but i have to but i cant. im supposed to and im a bad person if i dont and i cant live like that. #and if i am too upset about that i am punished for it by the people around me and ignored by those in power if not punished as well. #i love the world. i love people. you motherfuckers are killing everything and im not stopping you and you're getting in the way of me loving #the life i was built to love and i can't understand why you think it's even thinkable to do what you're doing. or what im doing. #i just want to look at clovers and paint and be good to my neighbors but you won't stop fucking murdering people in front of me #and i can't fucking do anything. i cant take care of the people i love i can't carry my own weight i can't take care of myself i can't move #and im supposed to fucking file taxes? to fund mass slaughter? on the off chance it might go to welfare or something. god. #i hate it here i hate it here america is a fucking nightmare it is hell i can't stand it but if i leave im just running and saving myself #whch is selfsh and cruel and so i would never be able to escape the feeling and i would always be in american hell because it' a part of me #but if i stay i cannot do anything because my body is filled with smoke and broken glass and im supposed to fucking get my drivers license #so i can buy groceries or get a job so i can keep myself on life support watching everything get worse and worse around me #and knowing that nothing has ever been good here and ive been lied to forever and im still being lied to #and i am in hell. #and me dying won't fix it and me living won't fix it ans both are too painful to even consider. #i am drowning i am drowning i am drowning i am drowning and my skin is on fire im on fire and i want to have children. but i can't imagine #doing that to someone. oh my god. and to raise them and watch them come to understand what this place ive brought them to is #that ive raised them in a slaughterhouse and to feebly try to show them the clovers and the ducks and the baby shoes and teach them to love #when maybe that love of the world is a distraction. or maybe i use it as one. i think of the blood as an obstacle to love and joy but maybe #i would not love the world so much if i was not so constantly desperately scared and ashamed of living in it #and i am a very lucky person. my life is cushy and i want to rip my skin off because what does that matter when it doesnt let me help people #god help me. but help the rest of them first. but i am helped first anyway and i hate it. i dont. i cant. god. #nyarla dni

[imarvelatthestars]

A Little More Alive

Pairings: Tai x werewolf!Reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: sfw - mentions of animal hunting for sustenance (not pleasure), brief depictions of brief body horror (human to wolf transformation) but nothing explicit, Tai and reader are both "outsiders" and receive some poor treatment because of it, mention of side character's death (again, not explicit), happy ending

Notes: this is not a part of the Tai Saga, but is its own and entirely separate story made specifically for Halloween/autumn time. However, I did add a few nods to the story here and there. (I'll probably be writing lots of little Tai stories from here on out that aren't connected to the saga, just fyi.)

Recommended Listening: Beyond the Forest by Howard Shore (or Feast of Starlight).

The people in this town are a fearful lot - superstitious, suspicious of everything and everyone around them. They fear the woods more than anything. There is some sense in this fear, after all there are things that lurk in the shadows there that no human ought to comprehend. But the woods are not evil. They bring life to everything they touch, shelter for those in need, food for all, and the forest floor is often dappled with puddles, creeks, and ponds.

To you, it's home. Cool in the summers, pleasant and abundant in the spring and autumn, but the winters are hard. You tend to spend your winters in town instead because here there are fires, hearths decorated with cast iron pots that overflow with stews and warm, hearty meals that fill your belly and leave you satisfied. It's not so bad here. But it is lonely.

There is no family to stay with, no parent to hold you on chilly nights and now siblings to offer their comfort when you fall to your lowest, and there is no one to tell your secrets to. The townsfolk are wary of you, but friendly enough when they need to be, when they want something from you.

"Stranger, I need a hare for my family." "I need a deer for the equinox feast." "Get me the best fowl you can find, hunter, and I'll make it worth your while."

Not all of them are greedy, but most of them are. Not him, though. He's not like the others. The chill of the autumn and winter months lingers in their eyes year round, but his eyes are warm. They remind you of the undergrowth in the forest. The frogs and their tadpoles bathing in the mud, the squirrels and birds that build their homes in the tree trunks, the color of the leaves as they turn and fall. The hearth in midwinter, when the fire is sparking and the wood turns to embers, and the bread bakes in the oven and cracks and steams in your hands. He's kind, this man who sits in the dirt everyday and asks for the things he cannot afford.

You wonder if a man like him, with kindness in his bones, would still be so if he knew your secret. If he knew who it was that left him scraps in the dark of the night. You hope he isn't like the others in this regard, but you're too afraid to ever try and find out. For now, your secret is safe and your friend is, too.

This night is the first that's been properly cold. The weather has been fickle this week, hot one day and cool the next, but never dipping too low. Tonight, however, it's caught everyone by surprise. Some families haven't gathered enough firewood yet, so their chimneys aren't smoking. The few stragglers still out after dark are shivering in their boots, too cold to notice the shadow darting by or the coat of wolf fur around your shoulders.

You make into the forest and strip off your clothes, fold them neatly and tuck them into a hollow in a fallen trunk, then you lay out the fur on the moss and curl up on top of it, waiting. It takes a moment for you to relax, but once you do, you feel something stir deep in your stomach. You've waited too long to transform, put it off for too many days. It's going to be painful this time.

And it is. Your bones creak and snap before reknitting themselves into a wolf's skeleton, this is how it always is, but it hurts so much more than it has in ages. Your joints are sore and your gums hurt where your teeth have transformed into canines, your spine aches right where your tail sprouts out, and your muscles are on fire. But finally, it's over and you feel like yourself again.

The moon is only half full and doesn't illuminate the earth enough for human eyes, but for your eyes it's perfect. You can hear everything, every twitch of a whisker, every twig snapped underfoot, every heartbeat going pitter patter, and you can see the glassy, frightened eyes of little critters hiding beneath overgrown ferns.

You hunt. There is an old hare whose mate died earlier this month. HIs sorrow is so strong that you can smell it and it makes him slow. It's better to take his life than the life of the mother around the bend; she guards five tiny little hearts going pitter patter and that is a line you cannot, will not cross. You thank the old hare for his life and the life he will now be able to give to others, and then you move on. His body rests by the tree trunk that holds your clothes. Soon he's joined by a pair of chipmunks, a squirrel, another hare, and a bird whose wing never healed right. Most of your finds will go to those in town - the single mother making stew for her children, the angry old grandfather who lives in the smithy and yells at everyone, the young widower and his baby girl - but you always save something.

The chipmunks and bird are dropped off first, then the squirrel, then one of the hares.

"There you are," he rumbles, the tiny fire he's built illuminating the dimples in his cheeks when he turns to look at you. "Was wondering where you'd gone off to."

Your paws pad lightly on freshly fallen leaves, and the hare falls at the man's feet. You nudge it lightly with your nose before sitting back on your hind legs.

"For me, hm?"

You pant. It's your way of saying "yes, of course".

"That's very generous for an old veteran."

If you were human, you'd roll your eyes. As a wolf, you settle for a moody huff and leave it at that. He often says things like this when you come visit him, that he's old and not worth your time, that a handsome young wolf like yourself ought to be spending time with its pack instead of visiting him. He speaks sometimes of days long past when he was younger and stronger, a soldier in the Emperor's legion, but never enough for you to grasp what happened to him or why he's now a pauper who can only beg for scraps.

But you can sense things in this form that your human form can't. All your senses are more finely attuned, sharper, clearer. You can smell the pain he hides. It's stronger when it's cold. Perhaps the weather makes it worse. Whatever it is, it's in his leg. It seems to radiate from his ankle, up his shin, and into his thigh.

"You must be hungry after all that hunting," he says as he pokes at the fire. The tray he uses to collect coins and food from the locals is balanced above it. He then pats the space beside him. "Stay. We'll share."

A wolf's face cannot flush with heat or embarrassment the way that a human's can, but the quickened beating of the heart is the same, the rush of hormones in the blood. Do you panic, do you stay, do you go? You want to stay. You like him. He's the safest thing you have beyond the forest. But he's no fool. He must know you're no ordinary wolf. Wild wolves aren't like you, they aren't nearly as friendly and nowhere near as considerate. And he speaks to you like you understand him, like he can hear the very human thoughts running through your head.

"Stay, wuruhi. I won't bite." His tone is soft and his mouth is smiling. He probably thinks he's funny.

"I shouldn't be seen with you," you say, but it comes out more like "rrrrrgh oooowa". It could be dangerous for him if you linger. But then you pause, trace your eyes over his profile as the fire illuminates it, you see the creases by his eyes and the gray in his beard. You wonder if he's as lonely as you are here. You wonder if it wouldn't be so bad to stay for a bit, just this once.

You huff again, somewhere between irritated and resigned, and walk around the edge of the fire to come to his other side. You have to be gentle, you don't want to jostle him too much and make him hurt more, but finally you find a comfortable position and rest your chin on his thigh. The pain still radiates through his sinew and bone, but you sense his body react to your warmth almost immediately. Hopefully this will help.

The night is soon filled with the smell of cooked rabbit. He feeds you for the first time since this unofficial partnership began. He's hesitant at first, and wisely so, but he doesn't need to be afraid of you. You'd never do a thing to hurt him.

It's easy to drift to sleep then with your belly mostly full and the fire warming your paws and nose. His body is soft and comfortable, like something you've been longing for all this time but never even knew was possible to have. His hand is broad and warm when it settles atop your head just between your ears, and you find yourself thinking that this is... nice. Better than the forest and better than the tavern full of raucous drunkards.

Everything is warm when you wake up, almost stiflingly so. Your entire torso is nearly overheated, although your limbs and nose are a little cooler than that. Your first thought is that you added too many layers when you went to bed last night, but then you properly open your eyes and see that you're outside. It's startling for a moment, but not entirely unexpected. You've fallen asleep outside after more arduous transformations before. But that doesn't seem right. You don't remember falling asleep in the forest, and you realize now that you're not even in the forest, you're...

The weary veteran is snoring behind you. The sun has crested above the trees and hilltops and distant mountains. It's daytime and the moon is gone, and you're still a wolf, but you're out in the open. Exposed. Visible. Vulnerable. His little camp is just on the edge of town by the main path that leads to other towns and kingdoms beyond this one. Anyone could see, anyone could ask.

You wriggle up and out of his arms in an instant, tail tucked between your legs as you start to panic. You're so disoriented from your heavy sleep that for a moment, you can't remember where your things are. Your clothes, your shoes. The things that make you human. Where are they? What if someone sees you? What if they know, somehow, just what you are? What if, what if, what if-?

The leaves and dirt scrape and shift behind you, and you turn on your heels, teeth bared and ears pinned back, ready to fight, only to see him. The veteran. His bark brown eyes and ember sparked freckles. His hands are raised and he's withdrawn into the little fence he'd fallen asleep against.

"Easy, wuruhi, easy. 's just me."

Your mouth snaps shut and your ears prick forward a bit. You'd never hurt him. Never. It hurts to think that you've scared him, but you don't have time for this, you have to get out of there before someone sees.

He tilts his head to the side just slightly, likely eyeing the fur that's raised along the ridge of your spine and tail. "What's got you worked up? Hm?"

A rooster crows just inside town. A sharp breeze whistles between the houses and barns. The nearest house creaks when its front door opens. You turn to run and you don't look back.

You make it back to the tavern and you don't leave until hours later, not until your heartbeat has evened out and the adrenaline has stopped pumping through your veins and you stop hearing voices clamoring to chase you out of town.

That was too close. You let your guard down. You can't afford to do that again. As much as you don't like some of the people here, this town gives you a purpose to focus your time on, people to interact with and casual friendships to make, the money you need for clothes and finer, pretty things that you aren't able to craft.

You sigh as you press your forehead to the door of your room.

You can't let yourself close to him like that again. It's not safe for you and you can only imagine what might happen to him if he were seen interacting with a creature like you...

Monsters. Beasts. Demons. These are the words the folk in the tavern use when they tell stories late into the evening and the days grow shorter. "Beware the wolf that roams these woods" is the warning bestowed to travelers. "He'll tear your throat from your chest and feast on your heart." They laugh and shiver and drink from their tankards, and then one will nudge another and say, "and avoid that old beggar on the road."

Those stories hurt more than the ones they tell about your kind. You know the truth of living a life half between wolf and human. You were never cursed by a witch, never damned by the devil, nor abandoned by your mother for being the foul offspring she never wanted. You were simply born like this and your family was lost long ago to hunters and soldiers, fearful townsfolk like these who start at every shadow. But the things they say about the man with the gentle eyes and tired smile makes your blood boil.

They don't know what they're saying, who they're speaking in the presence of. They don't know that he's yours to protect, or even that he's worth protecting. All they know is their simple, pathetic existences and crass jokes made into beer foam and hissed between moldy teeth. They're fools.

But some good still comes from their mockery. It reminds you that the "old" beggar is still alone, probably wondering what happened to the wolf who fell asleep warming his injured leg. And he's probably hungry. It's been several days since you brought him something.

You eye the credits you've most recently earned and count them up, then catch a glimpse out the window. Sunset isn't for a few more hours; you still have time and opposable thumbs.

Hardly an hour later, you've purchased a bundle of potatoes, turnips, apples, and old bread, and are marching out to the edge of town. It's nerve-wracking, this decision to finally interact with him as a human, and you're half convinced he'll see right through you. He won't, of course, he has no reason to even suspect you, but you're nervous all the same. Your stomach's all knotted up and your heart's in your throat. So many "what-ifs", so many worries and anxieties, so many unknowns, and it's stupid really because he's always been kind and gentle, never been a threat to you. Why do you even care so much about how he might react?

"Hello," you say when you finally see him. It's about all you can say, but it's embarrassing that it's all you can muster for your very first conversation.

He doesn't start - must have heard you coming - but he does look curiously at you. As if he can't figure you out. Or maybe he thinks you look familiar. You really, really hope that isn't it.

His response is halting and unsure. He nods at you. "Hello."

Your arm shoots out of its own accord and the bundle swings wildly in the air. "I thought you might be hungry."

His eyes flicker, sizing up the bundle, sizing up you, curious, searching, questioning, but... grateful. It's not easy to miss the way his shoulders relax and slope just a bit. "Thank you. That's very kind."

Your body switches to moving on instinct and you soon find yourself on a knee, just across from the spot where you'd fallen asleep with him before. The bundle is handed over and the new rabbit skin gloves that cover his knuckles catch your eye. Roughly sewn, some fur missing in spots where his knife or your teeth must have caught, but clearly made by his own hands. It strikes you as oddly sentimental despite being the smartest, most logical thing he could have done. He didn't make them because the hare came from you, he made them because he was cold and winter is coming, you know this, but still. He preserved your little tooth marks. He keeps them close to him. It may mean nothing to him, but you find that it means everything to you.

So you return to him once night falls and the moon is out, against your better judgement. You can't help it. You want to see him again, you want to see if he enjoyed the food, if your human presence is something he wouldn't mind sitting with again.

"How is it?" you ask when you come trotting out of the woods, but it's muffled by the critter in your jaws and comes out something like, "ghghghgh ooofgh".

He smiles when he sees you. "There you are, little one." He scratches you behind the ears before you've even dropped it for him and it's so embarrassing, but your tail starts wagging. Like any number of the stray dogs that enjoy attention from the townsfolk, even from you. "'s good t' see you again," he chuckles.

Your nose nudges the sack of food from earlier, played off to look as if you're curious or seeking out an interesting smell.

"You smell that, huh? It's from a friend."

I know. But it makes you feel good to hear it.

"It'll make a good meal for us, eh?"

And it's then that you wonder when you went so soft for a man you hardly know. He cooks for you and tells you stories while you lounge at his feet. He tells you about his big brother, Appo, and his commander, Rex. He tells you about the blade he took to his shin and the cannon explosion that sent shrapnel into his knee. Most importantly, he tells you his name and it's something you immediately tuck inside your heart.

It suits him, this single syllable.

"It means 'the coast' or 'the tide'. It was my father's tongue." He seems distant when he explains this, like he's no longer here with you. "He was from a land far, far away from here. An island kingdom. Full of warriors and great chiefs."

You rest your head on his knee and exhale softly through your nose. "Tell me more," you whine. It's a tricky translation.

He doesn't seem to understand you because he shifts and runs his palm over the scruff at your neck. "I know several tongues, but I don't know yours. Don't even know your name." He smiles, Tai smiles, and scratches your shoulder. "Don't suppose you'd ever tell me, would you?"

"I'm a wolf," you grumble, something like "ooowa woogh", which only makes him laugh.

"Perhaps one day, wuruhi iti."

He does eventually learn your name, though he doesn't know it belongs to the wolf that visits him most nights. There are moments when it seems he might, when he looks at you for a little too long in either form and you think your cover is blown, but it never is. He remains steadfast long into winter and you remain his, loathe to admit it though you are.

And then the worst happens. The shadows become too dark and too long, and the townsfolk become too afraid tucked away in their timber and stone homes, huddled around their hearths. Maybe you became too at home in the warmth of Tai's fire and you let yourself get lazy when it came to covering your tracks. But one day the people present arms and they come for the wolf they've heard tale of on the darkest nights.

You don't realize what's happening at first. You think maybe you've missed out on another festival with all your distractions of late, so you follow the crowd to the fence at the edge of town.

"Find the wolf!" someone shouts, and your blood runs cold. Several silver blades are brandished in the air.

"Get up, old man!" "Tell us where the wolf is!" "Give up the monster!"

Tai. Oh God, they know. How could they know? You were so careful. Had you really become so careless?

He struggles to his feet with a grunt and leans heavy on the fence. His eyes are tired in the light of their torches, weary and unsure. "What is this?"

The mayor steps forward. "Where is the wolf, old man?"

This the moment you've been dreading. He's sure to give you up, any human would. To them, you're just another monster that stalks their dreams and lingers at the forest's edge. You were foolish to ever think otherwise, even for him.

But when you turn to leave, he speaks. "What wolf?"

You pause, back still turned, too afraid to see his face, too afraid to hope.

"The werewolf. Your hellhound."

Tai scoffs. "I have no such thing." You turn.

"Liar!" One of the local women scrambles through the crowd then, her torch burning brightly as she brandishes a pitchfork in her other hand. "I saw you! You were talking to it, casting spells into the fire!"

"I am no witch, nor am I warlock or any other caster of spells. I'm simply a man."

"Are you lying to cover for the creature?" asks the mayor, now getting so close that his spittle catches on Tai's beard. "Or are you one of them? A demon sent to damn us?"

How can they say such things? How can they even dare to think them? Do they not see? Can they not comprehend? Have they no fear? If he were really the wolf, shouldn't they be afraid of his wrath? Or has their stupidity outweighed their senses?

To his credit, Tai doesn't rise to his bait. "You'd like that. Wouldn't you?" He smiles, but his dimples lack their usual depth and his eyes are cold for the first time. Cold like freshly dug earth over a grave. "I'm as human as you are, Lord Mayor. And even if I knew where your so-called beast was, I wouldn't say."

He's a better man than you are. Because you are seconds away from ripping this town apart.

"You'll tell us."

He just blinks. It's not a verbal refusal, but it's as clear as day. Their search ends with him.

But stories like this never end there, do they? You've heard of them from other wolves, ones less fortunate than you. Humans, when pushed to the limits of their wildest fears, are more monstruous than any wolf you've ever known. You know bloodlust when you see it, you know it because you feel it now, bubbling and broiling inside you as you fight with everything you have not to let it consume you. You know this town is dying of thirst and they will see red tonight, whether it's your blood or someone else's.

You run. You're not even out of sight, you're simply tucked under the roofing of the nearest dwelling. You pull your clothes off with enough force to tear them and you don't even bother with your undergarments, you just throw the wolf fur onto the ground and curl up on top. You gaze up at the sky where it begins to turn from pale blue to midnight black, and you summon yourself. It's all a rush of adrenaline and blood in your ears and fur melding with skin, senses coming into focus, limbs shortening, growing, folding, until you are one with yourself again, and then you howl.

There's no need to translate it, they all know what it means: death. You skirt around the edge of the crowd with your teeth bared, snarling, snapping at anyone who dares to step too close, and you barrel right into the mayor, knock him down so that he tumbles into the fence and takes it with him. The torch goes flying, the silver blade in his hand drops, and he screams.

You never liked him anyway. Too greedy and conniving to care much for the people of this town. His life won't be missed by many.

When you've had your fill, you saunter off of his body and begin to pace the gap between Tai and the others. Most of them are horrified, too shocked to even move, let alone try and fight you. Good. There are a few here that you've come to like during your stay and you'd hate to kill them. But you will. As a wolf, your life centers around your pack. The pack is yours to protect with your life, and this is the promise you have sealed with the blood of a human. There is no going back.

"Let him go." They don't understand you exactly, but they get the idea. Tai is off limits.

It takes a while for them to back down. They could perhaps overpower you, but you think the sight of their leader bleeding out has put them off attempting anything more without him. The torches become distant dots of light as the people retreat to their homes. Doors and shutters slam shut, the whole town goes quiet, and the sun falls below the horizon. The only light left is that of the stars and the embers of Tai's fire.

You pounce on him the moment you deem it safe. He yelps a little at first, startled and very probably afraid of you, but you don't care. Better afraid than dead. All that matters is seeing if he's safe. Your tongue is darting out across his skin, your nose sniffing under his tunic and his beard. Is he safe, is he safe, is he hurt. It's all you can think. Even if he hates you now. Even if this was all for nothing because you took a life for him and by human standards, that should disgust him. Even if you never see him again after this night, all you need to know is if he will survive.

He starts saying words. They sound so foreign to you that you think at first he's saying his father's tongue, the language he sometimes mumbles in or uses to call to you. But no, it's your name. Your real name. The one you gave him as a human. The one he isn't supposed to know is yours.

His hands come to gently cup your cheeks. You're still a wolf, yet he holds you now as if you were as human as he is.

"Is that you, wuruhi iti?"

What do you do? What do you say? "I killed someone for you. I'd die for you. You're mine, do you understand?"

Tai says your name again and the entire world stops. You whine. This is so much more painful than you thought it would be, this not knowing.

"It is, isn't it?"

Your tongue lolls out a bit when you whimper. "Yes, yes! It's me!" You want to howl it from the mountaintops, but you settle for licking his nose and panting.

He smiles. His cheeks dimple, and his eyes are the same type of warmth you find in the fires he's been lighting for you for the last few months, sparking the kind of embers you didn't even know you were capable of. He's warm again, not cold like the steel of a wolf killer's blade, but cozy like the forest floor after a day in the sun, soft like the hide of a hare. Home like the forest has always been.

"How did you know?" you ask later under the light of the full moon, your wolf fur laid across the back of the stolen cart and your head tucked under his arm.

The town is long gone, so far behind you that it is little more than a bad memory, though you hope none of them gets a wild hair and decides to come after you. As far as you're concerned, this cart and the goods you stole from the mayor's house are yours and Tai's now. The horse, too. If anyone is foolish enough to try and steal from you, then their fate is on their own head.

He grunts. He keeps falling asleep on you, even though he's trying hard to stay awake. "Know what?"

You butt him in the cheek with your nose. "That it was me."

"Oh." Tai laughs. "It was your eyes. I'd know them anywhere."

Now that you're human, you can feel it when your entire body flushes. What a silly reaction to such a simple statement, but you can't help it. He's been so gentle with you since you transformed, never touching anywhere that might be inappropriate or too presumptuous, never lingering for too long, but always comforting, always there.

"Really?"

"You're different, ipo. Special."

A lifetime of hearing otherwise from other humans has you feeling utterly speechless and a little breathless at his admittance. "How so?"

He hums as he tilts his head back to watch the stars. "You took care of me. Still not sure why you did, but I'm grateful all the same." His arm tightens around your shoulders. "And then you came to me as a human and you looked at me, and I just knew. Couldn't bear to lose you after that."

Your throat is threatening to close on you, your eyes are misty. "Tai..."

"Something about you made me feel a little more alive and far less alone. Thank you."

There's something growing in your throat now, something beyond the tears or the awkward tightness they cause, something you've been hesitant to name but never hesitant to act on. Something you've known for some time but never dared to voice.

"Tai, I don't regret what I did." He looks as if he wants to say something when you pause, but he holds it for a moment, waits for you to continue first. "For those like me, other wolves..." And he doesn't cringe, doesn't shy away from the word. He stays. "It's a promise that you're part of my pack. I, I know that this is not exactly normal for you, and I wouldn't want you to stay with me if you didn't wish to, if perhaps you were afraid of me-"

"I'm not."

Your belly feels warm with this knowledge.

You may as well say it. With the stars in his eyes and the moon highlighting the swell of his nose like some majestic carving in a noble family's manor, he doesn't look like the haggard veteran you've always known him as. You see something beautiful. But then, he's always been sort of beautiful to you.

"I care about you. I'd kill for you, I'd do it all again, I swear, just to keep you safe. And if you don't feel the same, I would understand, but Tai." Why is it so hard to say? Just spit it out! "I think that I love you. And I would like to stay with you, however you'll have me."

You wonder momentarily if that sheen in his eyes is just the reflection of the moon.

"Wuruhi iti." His fingers are shaking when they trace your browline. "I'm an old man trying to make his way in this wide world. Why would you stay with me?"

You smile. "I happen to like you, old man. And you're not so old as you seem."

"Perhaps not, but there are others you might spend your time on. Younger humans, less damaged. Other wolves."

"I will go if you ask me to."

But please don't. Such a request would break your heart.

Finally, he shakes his head and your lungs surge with relief. "I could never. I'm too selfish." He slips something into your palm then, and presses your fist to his lips before settling it on your breastbone.

"What's this?"

He rumbles a bit while he tries to find the words. Is he suddenly feeling bashful? "Token of my gratitude."

The moonlight reveals a small piece of wood, sanded and carved so intricately that you can only make out all the details through touch. There are all sorts of whirling spirals and delicate lines latticing the wood, so many that at first you don't realize there's something more to the design. Then you raise it a little higher and squint, and you see the shape of a wolf's head come into focus.

"It's beautiful."

"Whakairo. Another piece of my father and the land he came from. These carvings were the ways which our ancestors would tell stories. This one is ours." He brushes his thumb over one section of the wood. "Our fire." Then to another section. "The hares and the turnips. And you."

Every inch of your body is about to burst from beneath your skin. How are you so fortunate to have met this strange, wonderful man? But - "Where are you?"

His hands closes around the wood. "I'm here." Then he reaches, slowly, waiting until you nod to move any further, and taps his fingers on your collarbone. "And here. If you'll have me."

You will always have him, and he will always have you.

māori translations:

wuruhi - wolf

wuruhi iti - little wolf

ipo - beloved, sweetheart

whakairo - carving (the wh- is pronounced like f-)

my submission for @anxiouspineapple99 's big clone halloween party

prompts: werewolf + "something about you made me feel a little more alive and far less alone"

& "i saw it happen" (reworded into "i saw you") from the @clonexreaderbingo event

tai taglist: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @multi-fan-dom-madness @deejadabbles @moodymisty @rain-on-kamino @temple-elder @wanderer-six @jambolska-grozdova @bambambunny @andrakass2 @wings-and-beskar @arandomnerdsblog578 @roadara23 @wizardofrozz @kakashibabe02

please let me know if you would like to be added to or taken from this list!

#clone trooper tai x reader #tai x reader #tai x you #clone trooper x reader #clone trooper tai #tai #star wars #werewolf au #x reader #also i know the picture shows a skirt but there is no gendered language or descriptions of reader. so it's gender neutral! #wow!!! the first time i've written something completely chronologically with no later additions. and the first time in a LONG time where #...there was no actual kissing despite there being romance #i am so proud of this one and i love it so much #it's beenr attling around inside my head for several days now and i'm glad i got it out and finished

[hotdamnmadison]

Thoughts While Up North 🙂and more updates...

How did everybody enjoy that blog post from last night? I'm sure it was slightly eye opening to some - and if you're still here after learning those things about me - I appreciate you <3 ...

I attempted to journal a bit from my notes app while I was up North over the weekend. It didn't go well lol. I was horrifically inconsistent. But I told myself I'd post this any way along with a few landscape photos. I hope you guys enjoy. I had a blast.

10/1/22 10:00 am Saturday 

Fuck it’s cold up here. Last night was almost a disaster - arrived too late to check in, too late to buy firewood, and too late to SEE! Setting up the tent was tough but I managed. And if I hadn’t brought a propane heater along well - I might’ve looked like Jack Nicholson at the end of the shining. Managed to get a fire going despite using super wet wood from the forest. It had been a crazy first few hours. Even so, I wouldn’t trade being up here right now for anything in the world. Sure - it’s not as sexy as the things I usually post - and it’s probably not what you came to this blog to look at.  But this place is beautiful. The leaves are changing red and orange. The smell of fall and campfire smoke fill my lungs. Delicious. A flask of whiskey and a few cold beers made the trip as well. Perfection. I’m so glad to be here - having a break from my world back home. Up here I get to decompress and unwind. And it feels amazing…. So I’ll take the cold. It doesn’t bother me any. It’s important to get away from the world of sex, porn, social media, television, blah blah blah…. And get back to the basics…. You don’t necessarily have to travel all the way up here. But seriously, treat yourself to a break in nature every once in a while. 

6:00 pm Saturday

Whew what a hike. 3900 feet of elevation and a gorgeous view from the top. Not to sound cliché, but it really is breathtaking… photos don’t do it justice. You had to be there. It’s like I said this morning… please go treat yourself to nature and break away from the screen for a while. You’ll be glad you did. There is a such a versatile group of hikers on there trails - young and old. You can do it too. 

So what am I doing now? Enjoying a little drink in the camp showers, and yes I’m journaling at the same time. Getting my lushes little body all clean for a night at a local brewery. Maybe a hot stud will show up well I’m in here. ;) I’ll admit - the urge to touch myself while thinking about some company is definitely on my mind. But I’m a good girl. I made this trip without the cage, and without the plugs and dildo. No play time for me ;)

9:40 AM Sunday

Campsite is torn down and I’m loading up to head home. Always a bit bittersweet to be honest. Part of me wants to stay - and live out my days up north with no internet service and outside distractions. The other part of me is tired, and needs a legit bed to sleep in haha. But hey - they always say if you get too much of a good thing you’ll start to find a way to dislike or hate it. So maybe leaving is a good thing. Maybe I should leave these trips as special rewards for myself. It will make them that much more special every time I get to go.

6:00 PM Sunday 

Home. And boy am I sore and tired too of course. I’ve somehow dragged myself along enough (with the help of some coffee) to get some laundry going. The worst part of these trips is the cleanup process. And then putting it all away afterwards. I cannot express how badly I don’t want to go to work tomorrow… someone come save me lol.

---

And now for today - Tuesday October 4th. I'm settled nicely back into work and while I do miss the hiking, the nature, and the campfire smoke - I am glad to be home again. I am especially glad to be back because there is so much I want to do and accomplish - both in my vanilla life and my NSFW side.

Obviously the next thing on my agenda is tackling some coding for my camgirl pages... oh, and finding time to actually BE a camgirl again. A handful of you have told me that you think I can pull it off - and I have faith in myself that I can too with enough work.

I also want to start selling my erotic short stories and novels to potential buyers - this could even include commission pieces with made up characters of the customers choosing. I'm still figuring out how to put that in place. But that is definitely a goal of mine by the end of the year. Just sell ONE piece to someone.

And then of course - there is a lot to get done in my life that you folks will never really see. Hobbies at home, house work, prepping for what appears to be another harsh winter, and finding other creative ways to get my bills paid. Oh and squeezing in some time to decompress and have fun as well.

There's a lot to juggle there, but I ask that you're all patient with me while I find a way to make it all work. :)

Anyway! I am headed out for the day. Thanks for taking the time this morning.

Ashley <3

[134340am]

(now i want) more of these feelings crawling up my spine

pro-hero bakugou x gn!reader, 0.8k words, sfw set in this / this universe, but can be read independently

it’s remarkable how quickly katsuki settled into your life.

how did a simple sushi dinner, filled with begrudging conversation and awkward silences, lead to this – a small stack of his clothes in the corner of your wardrobe, a pair of black and burnt orange boxing gloves next to your dumbbells, and the lingering scent of candle smoke buried deep in your couch blankets?

life undoubtedly moves fast when you’re a pro-hero; days occupied with fighting crime and patrolling and struggling to make a difference in the world, but life moves even faster when you’re friends with katsuki.

because being friends with katsuki means impromptu meals and outings together. it means he picks the activities (“we’re going bowling tomorrow night. don’t forget.”), it means he chooses the movies (“i don’t wanna watch a fuckin’ movie about talking animals.” “but it’s disney!”), it means he calls the shots on where to eat, despite knowing that you absolutely cannot, for the life of you, eat anything spicier than curry rice at a normal spice level.

being friends with katsuki means eating with him wherever and whenever he wants – and that applies today, too.

what time do you get off patrol? a simple text from him read.

4.30pm. why? you replied hastily, looking up from your phone to wave at a trio of smiley schoolgirls.

when your eyes dropped back down to your screen, you were met with a google maps link of your usual hole-in-the-wall curry rice restaurant on his side of the patrol boundary, followed by one last text – short and to the point. as usual.

5pm. don’t be late.

oh, and being friends with katsuki means you have to eat whatever he orders if you’re late, because he hates waiting. you get to the eatery at 5.01pm, hair mussed from the wind and stomach rumbling, only to find the impatient gremlin that is katsuki already slamming his credit card down on the reader at the counter. oops.

a part of you hopes he remembers you can’t handle spice too well, but another part of you knows that he remembers, but does as he wants regardless.

katsuki has always followed his heart, after all.

and today, his heart was telling him that dinner was extra spicy shrimp curry for you, and extra extra extra spicy pork cutlet curry for him. if he thought he was being considerate by getting you an iced tea on the side, then he thought wrong – because you are currently two bites into your meal and halfway through your drink, and you already feel like passing out.

“get it together, shrimpy – you need to build your spice tolerance.” katsuki glares at you while shovelling a mouthful of rice into his mouth, chewing as if his extra extra extra spicy curry tasted like nothing. “what’s the point of eating curry if it’s not spicy?”

“unlike you, katsuki, i enjoy my food best when i can actually taste it,” you snap back, tugging at the collar of your hero costume as your body starts to heat up.

the spice was killing you. you gulp down your iced tea like a man who hasn’t had water in a week. and though you can barely see through your tears, can barely make out the blond-black blob that is katsuki smirking at your misery, you find that you're not actually mad.

not when the hair tie that’s keeping your fringe away from your face is one that he keeps on his wrist just for you.

not when he started bringing his own clothes when staying over, so he’ll stop stretching out the collars of your favourite old band tees.

not when he regularly gives you his time and attention in the training room, because he never wants to see you lose a fight.

in some kind of messed up, unconventional, and backwards way – with his spicy curry orders and limited edition dynamight boxing gloves mysteriously appearing in your bag and him leaving his clothes all over your apartment – you know katsuki cares for you.

being friends with katsuki means having bits and pieces of him around you, with you in your everyday life. it is unpredictably thrilling; for you might mind the spice, but you don’t mind the spontaneity. you might hate the lopsided collar of your favourite vintage band tee, but you love how your clothes are starting to smell like his.

and if being friends with katsuki was already this challenging and fulfilling, you could only wonder what being lovers with him would feel like.

. . .

“oi, hurry the fuck up. we’re going bowling after this.”

“...since when?”

“since now. are you gonna eat the rest of your curry or not?”

a/n: this is a edited repost. also, reader can be read as nightcloud (my bnha oc), but i tried to make this as oc-neutral as possible (☆▽☆) thank you for reading! > title adapted from cold by mating ritual ft. lizzy land

(masterlist)

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bnha #yuna writes #nightcloud

[thesunshinebunny]

Can I ask for the dorm leaders reacting to their S / O asking them to join them in the shower for the first time???

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, oooookkkk, I can see what you did there dear anon.

In my great humble imagination, I'd like to take a dip in the huge bathtub that Kalim surely has in Scarabia. Let me dream, I like to relax in big bathtubs with foam, bubbles, music and incense. Before we begin, I warn you that all characters are +18.

Let’s goooooooooooooo

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Riddle

Oh dear, you don't know what you just did.

It was a decent proposal to be honest, you just wanted to spend a quality moment with our Queen, but I think the smoke got into his head.

"Riddle, I'm going to take a shower, would you like to join me?"

Puff red as a tomato and about to explode.

You stared at him in disbelief, until you realized your words. Maybe Riddle wasn't ready for that big step.

You entered the bathroom alone, but not before asking for forgiveness.

Now you left Riddle alone with his thoughts, that's much worse.

Your intention was to take a short shower, but with the event that had just occurred, you were eating your head as the water ran down your body.

The longer it took you to get out, the more your anxiety ate you up inside. You would have panicked if you hadn't heard the door open and close almost inaudibly.

Riddle stepped into the shower, standing behind you and circling your waist.

"Please don't turn around, it's still too embarrassing for me, but I can't help but feel calm right now"

Neither of you spoke or moved the rest of the time you stayed in the shower, even forgetting to wash properly. But that 'mistake' was the beginning of multiple long shared showers.

Leona

The lazy lion here wasn’t in his plans to get into the water, much less shower. If you had asked getting into the lounge’s pool, maybe he would have considered it.

He just lay on his bed, about to fall asleep, not caring about your figure in the middle of the room. He didn't care that you were getting irritated every second.

"I don't have the need to bathe, go alone"

He heard you leave and thought he was going to sleep peacefully before you get out of the shower… until an impact on his head dislodged him.

You had thrown dirt all over his hair, spreading over his chest and the bed.

“Now you have a reason to shower. You're dirty"

I recommend you to run to the shower, because the look Leona gave you… I highly doubt that you will make it out alive.

Arriving at the threshold, Leona grabbed you by the legs, placing you on his shoulder and getting under the faucet.

This fucker turned on the shower without letting you remove your clothes first, ending up drenched.

"Ah, my mistake, I think you're a little wet. Let me take off your clothes"

The malicious smirk on his face didn’t give you confidence, and didn’t disappear even when you were both naked under the water.

“You have courage to fill me and my bed with dirt, did you want to take a shower? Now you are going to clean me"

Ah… worth it?

Azul

Did he hear you well? Do you want to take a shower with him?

Oh dear sea witch, help him, he is about to have a neurism.

Azul wasn’t against your proposal itself, he was very concerned about his physique.

And what if you don't like what you see? would you are disappointed? And if it disgusts you to look at him naked or semi naked?

Thousands of questions ran through his head, making it impossible for him to give you an answer. If you looked closely, you might even see smoke coming out of his ears from the gears in his head moving; even tears were threatening to leak out of his eyes.

You placed your hands on both sides of his face, "Come with me"

You guided him into the bathroom, placing him under the shower head. You let go of your octopus and turned on the hot water before he could say anything.

Both were burned by the touch of the hot water, even Azul wanted to get out of there, but you stopped him by wrapping your arms around him.

The warmth of your arms on his torso made his heart skip a beat. He never thought he was going to be able to have this kind of intimacy with you, and I'm not talking about nudity.

It was literally like being in the rain in the middle of the courtyard, but in solitude inside Azul's room ... rather in his bathroom ... with clothes that were beginning to cling to the body.

"Do you feel better? Do you think you're ready to take off your clothes and really give us a hot shower?"

Azul never said a yes so fast in his life.

Kalim

A shower? A simple shower? What is that? Kalim only knows how to take big baths in tubs that could be the size of a house.

Either way he said yes, don’t be alarmed.

Wasting no time, he led you to the bathroom in his room, which you could swear was the same dimensions as the bedroom, apart from being very resplendent.

Kalim was very respectful at all times, he gave you your time to undress, he wasn’t invasive and he turned around when you asked him and thus enter the water.

Our sun here took the trouble to decorate the bathtub when you weren't looking, now the whole place was decorated with incense and scented candles from the Land of Hot Sands.

Even if you walked carefully, you might come across a few gold coins on the marble floor of the tub.

All very beautiful, but I think I would be very overwhelmed with such extravagance. And that is also your case, it’s better to tell Kalim directly.

Like before, don't worry, Kalim would understand your feelings a 1000% and if closing your eyes for the entire bath time makes you feel better, then Kalim would be willing to snuggle you on his chest and wash your head himself.

He ’s a gentleman, what can I say.

But, if you feel comfortable with all that, then I advise you to start a bubble war. Who said bathing with your partner has to be serious?

"Take care of your bubble ammunition, you wouldn't want to be left with nothing and for me to tickle you"

You made a mess in the whole bathroom, be careful when you leave, there is soap and water everywhere.

Vil

Oh no no no, dear, no dear.

One does not shower with Vil, one BATHES with Vil.

Like Kalim, Vil takes his bath quite seriously. He needs to follow his skin routine very meticulously and for that he needs oils, essences and… other things that my poor ass couldn't buy all the time, even if I wanted to.

His bathtub is not as gigantic as Kalim's, but it is much larger than average.

If for any reason you are embarrassed to bathe naked, don't panic. Vil has exclusively for you a bathrobe that you can use in the water, and one for him too obviously.

Prepare for a full-body massage session. The oils are not for decoration, they are to soften the skin and Vil would give the best massages of your life, you cannot argue with me

By the way, you also wash your hair with an equally expensive shampoo. There is no middle ground here: either you take a simple shower in your bedroom, or you go big with Vil.

That reminds me, the moment you take the first bath with this Queen of beauty, you have just signed a contract (not one of Azul's) in which it stipulates that from now on, every day you will bathe with it, end of discussion.

Vil may at first have been a bit ecstatic to the idea of ​​you giving him massages with his special oil and washing his hair; he has a very meticulous routine that he adheres to to the letter and your inexperienced fingers would not do enough magic.

Buuut, nothing like a good class in the middle of the bathtub to give good results.

In summary, taking a bath with Vil is like having a full day at the Spa, completely free ... well, almost free 😉

Idia

Idia.exe stopped working.

Jokes aside, Idia stopped reacting for a few seconds, he didn't even remember to breathe.

I can't tell if Idia is one of that kind of weeb that doesn't bathe, I want to believe that he does, please make me believe that he does, I implore you

Taking a shower with Idia can be a bit… embarrassing, mostly on his part. He isn’t used to so much human contact and that you ask him for such a proposal, is to get out of his comfort zone.

Nor could I tell if, when in contact with water, Idia's hair would evaporate, like the scene in Hercules blowing Hades’s head XD.

If so, it would be a lot of fun to watch, but you would have to reassure him because he would surely be much more embarrassed.

If that's not the case, maybe he would be around as long as the intimacy last with red hair, someone at some point mentioned Idia with red hair and now I can't help but imagine it

Many caresses from your part, hugging his torso from behind. Like Riddle, he would surely not be prepared to look at you for the first time or for you to see him.

Trie to calm the waters by asking him about his new inventions.

Also avoids telling Ortho all this bamboleo. He is too pure for this type of situation, let's not fill his head with indecent images of his brother.

Malleus

What a peculiar proposal, but it will be honored without a doubt.

He may have asked Lilia for instructions to abide by your proposal as well as possible… and Big Bear Mama Lilia may have asked him thousands of questions about it, perhaps embarrassing him a bit, but we will never know.

I have a slight suspicion that Malleus has a very rococo-style bathroom, in dark colors, but not necessarily black and green, do you understand?

Did you know those old tubs, from the Marie Antoinette years? Well, Malleus has one. He also has a shower, but to be honest, I see Malleus as a passionate lover, so the shower wouldn’t be in the game.

But, if you feel uncomfortable with the bathtub because it seems too much or you can’t step in (because, let's face it, hardly a person enters in that marble piece of furniture) then Malleus has no problem using the shower.

Whatever your decision is, the moment will be magical, and I mean it very seriously.

Our dragon daddy here would invoke any kind of magic to make the evening more enjoyable, like the little lights that fly around when Malleus is about to appear or disappear.

I recommend you don’t go around telling your intentions of take a shower with Malleus, we know that a certain lemon green hair is hanging around the corridors and he wouldn’t hesitate to listen to a conversation that has his young master as it’s center.

An uncomfortable moment if Sebek enter the bathroom screaming as always, demanding an explanation as to why a simple human is bathing with his young master.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader

[thefanficmonster]

Innocent Life

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) & Child!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst

Summary: As Ethan stands outside the ruins of Luiza’s house, looking the aftermath of the death he barely escaped in the eye, he cannot get the wails and cries of a child out of his head. Takes him a bit to realize they’re not a product of his trauma.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for the wonderful request, I had a blast writing it - what can I say, angst is my specialty hehe. Hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

How the hell is this happening? Why is this happening? Why to me? Why my family? Why were we the ones chosen for this suffering to be thrown upon? What did my daughter do to deserve this, for fuck’s sake?!

Why does everyone around me die? Why do I always loose everyone?

I’m the problem....

His knees are weak, his head’s spinning. His lungs have filled with smoke and ash so much he can barely breathe. His eyes sting, reddened around the edges, his vision blurry. However, what bothers him most is the mess that is currently his mind - swimming with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and dread.

He lost so much so suddenly and in such a short amount of time. He lost Chris - someone he thought of as a friend but has now been replaced by a coldblooded killer and backstabber. He refuses to believe that’s still the Chris who saved him and Mia from Louisiana, he has to be dead.

Mia....

He lost Mia. He’s lost her before countless times - he lost her when he though she was dead, he kept losing her and getting her back at the Bakers’ residence as she switched between her monstrous form and being herself. He lost her again when they made it back, when her mind was clouded and darkened, when all she needed was solitude and when he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her as doctors upon doctors used her as a research object. And now he’s lost her again, this time for good. It’s just him and Rose now.

Or it would be if she too wasn’t taken from him, leaving him in the pit of grief and loss, both emotions at an intensity he’s never experienced before. Like a drill going through his heart, or a sledgehammer breaking it down to shards. Or as though his heart’s completely vanished, unable to take the anguish Ethan’s existence has become. The anguish that will live on for as long as he will.

Those three years of Mia being gone.

That nightmarish night back in Louisiana.

The horrific sight of dozens of bullets entering his wife’s body in front of his very eyes as he remained helpless.

The sound of Rose’s wailing cries.

God, he can still hear them. And oh so vividly. Like a cursed, haunting loop in his brain. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine her being a few feet from him, near him, giving him the opportunity to soothe her, calm her down, tell her it’s all gonna be ok even if it seems like hell at the moment. Promising he’d make it all alright and make the right people pay for what’s happened.

But then finally, he picks up on it - the oddity in the cries he’s hearing.

They’re too realistic for a mind to be able to produce. They’re too loud and too close and are external. And, most importantly, they sound like the cries of an older child.

Ethan quickly snaps himself back to reality, coming to terms with the knowledge that the sounds he’s hearing are a part of it and not some dark corner of his mind. Despite the horror he feels and creep up, taking over his whole body in the form of cold sweat, he still takes a step towards the source of the ear-splitting and heart-sinking noise. It’s instinctively human to feel a sickening feeling of sympathy combined with the need to shield something so powerless from any harm.

To save an innocent life.

Heading towards the side of what used to be Luiza’s house he spots it - a crib on top of which there’s a pile of rubble and wooden planks. The thing seems to barely be standing and yet it’s harboring the child whose cries have now grown louder. Ethan’s frozen for a few moments, frozen with fear. Frozen with the overwhelming thought that there’s no way he can save that child. Frozen and powerless, just like he was on the floor of his own home as life left Mia’s body.

You didn’t do anything for her....

The sound of a crack in the already weak wood, seemingly coming from the child’s crib, sends all his senses on edge, his adrenaline once again starting to rush through his veins.

But you can do something for that child, Ethan! Do something before it’s too late!

Within the blink of an eye, Ethan finds himself standing above the unsteady wooden structure, putting all his strength into removing the rubble that has thankfully piled atop the wooden planks, preventing anything from landing on the baby and harming it. Hell, it’s a miracle it didn’t suffocate from the smoke in the first place. Its cries are put to a halt when its wide eyes land on Ethan, who’s looking back at the toddler with the same amount of distress.

“Hi there. It’s ok, you’re safe now.“ He finds himself breathing out shakily as his trembling hands reach down, picking up the now silent toddler. “It’s ok, little one. You’re a literal miracle, you know that?“ His gaze travels over the ruin the house has become, the house that was this child’s home. Its family’s home. This toddler knows loss much like Ethan does, or it will when it grows up. But as of now, it’s secured in the bubble of blissful ignorance due to infancy.

And Ethan has come across yet another bump in the road: making his way in the castle was already gonna be a difficult and possibly lethal venture, but doing it with a child in his arms, that’s a death sentence for both him and the kid.

“You and I have a thing for surviving hell, but not even I am willing to take the risk of taking you with me, kid.“ He gently caresses the toddlers head as its big awed eyes blink up at him with curiosity.

One one hand, a castle with horrors he’s yet to be familiar with; on the other, a village which’s horrors he’s already seen and experienced and would rather die right in this very spot than subject this innocent kid to them.

Ethan’s once again stranded.

“What do I do with you, kid? Being with me won’t bring you any good. I’m like a death sentence to everyone around me.“ His heart breaks as he says that because - in his mind and by his logic - it’s the truth. It’s the only thing that makes sense in such a nonsensical situation.

Then suddenly, an idea sparks, fueling what little hope and courage he has left and getting his legs to move from the spot they’ve been stuck in for the past God knows how long. That’s not important right now. What matters is that, for the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan Winters has a clue of what he’s doing. He’s got a plan.

                                                                *  *  *

“I see you have returned!“ The Duke greets him with his signature lazy smile before his gaze lands on the child in Ethan’s arms, his eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, and you’ve got company!“

“Actually...“ Ethan stops in front of the shop, adjusting his grip on the kid, “They’ll be keeping you company from now until....well, until I come back.“

“And where is it you’re planning on going?“ The Duke asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I know how to take care of a child.“

Ethan grows irritated, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I’m gonna take a kid into that castle you called me insane for wanting to go in myself. Trust me, I wouldn’t be leaving them with you if it wasn’t my only choice.” When he doesn’t receive a verbal response from the Duke, more of an expression change that suggested he’s accepting of this, Ethan grow relieved, turning to the toddler that hasn’t taken its eyes off him even for a second. “Hey, you’re gonna be just alright with the big guy, ok? He’s gonna keep you safe until I come back.” His initial intention was to say ‘even if I don’t come back’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to the kid at least, “Until then...” He pauses when a name automatically pops up in his head, “Until then, Y/N, you’ll stay here with the Duke.”

After that heavy-hearted goodbye, Ethan reluctantly hands the kid - Y/N - over to the Duke, a shift they are not very happy about seeing as how they start wailing immediately.

“You owe me plenty, Mr. Winters.“ The Duke says with a frown on his face, displeased and already developing a headache from the child’s cries.

“I owe you nothing. What you’re doing is basic human decency.“ Ethan glares at him before turning his attention to Y/N, “Hey, it’s alright. I know you two aren’t big fans of one another, but I promise I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.“ Planting a quick reassuring kiss on top of the child’s head, he steps away, relieved to find they don’t break out in a crying fit again.

With that peace of mind, he takes off on the path that’ll lead him to the castle. A part of him has found some peace, knowing that one innocent life has been saved.  However, there’s still one awaiting rescue. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the rescuer.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil 7 #re village #re8 #re8 village #resident evil ethan winters #re ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters #rose winters #mia winters #chris redfield #karl heisenberg #lady dimitrescu #video game #video games #video game fanfic #father #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #parent #angst #request #requests open #x reader #reader

[cjjohansson]

NONE OF THIS WAS MEANT TO HAPPEN- PART 2

NATASHA ROMANOFF x BLACKWIDOW!READER

SUMMARY; After being apprehended by the Avengers and growing closer to Natasha, you let slip a secret she didn't know you knew. What happens when she realises you know the truth?

WARNINGS; mentions of abuse, swearing, previous suicide attempt, self harm, self doubt, mental health, smoking, drinking. sad natasha.

-PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION-

WORD COUNT; 4.5K

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“So you’re telling me Yelena lied?”

Natasha didn’t expect this. She hadn't heard that name for a while now, not since destroying the Red Room herself with the help from her but since then nothing but radio silence. She thought Yelena was too busy still trying to free other widows but she knew from finding you and helping you Yelena hadn't finished her mission yet. But she was confused at how you knew Yelena and still had her in your mind even through the torture of the mind control and manipulating you had experienced. She continued staring at you, she didn't know what to do or say to you.

“So was she lying or not Natasha?” your voice came through her ears making her refocus. Your voice sounded desperate to know the truth, you needed to know the truth.

“I don't know what you’re talking about y/n.” Nat knew she should tell the truth, why was she still hiding this part of her past from you, no one knew about the help she had received when destroying the red room but no one knew her as well as you. Only knowing each other for this short amount of time you both opened up in different ways, it was freeing for Natasha to see someone who went through the same pain as she did and it helped guide her in helping you. Knowing if she could help you it’d help herself, she still saw all the red in her ledger but she was determined to wipe it in hopes she could help you wipe yours. She knew how you felt about the terrible things you did under control and for all the years up until now. She knew you shared the same pain. Apart from you only had Natasha. Slowly growing more open with the team but Natasha had you AND the team, the team she had grown so close with over the years to now finally call her family. But still the lie fell from her lips like it was a simple song.

“You’re lying, I know you're lying and I don't understand why it's me Natasha!” your voice only grew louder the more frustrated you got.

“I still remember holding Yelena the day you managed to escape the Red Room, I remember her crying and having to keep her quiet at night so no one saw her and thought she was weak! She constantly fell asleep holding the only memory she had left of you. But it all stopped months after I was taken from her in my sleep being transferred to a new location! I remember mouthing to her ‘it’ll be ok, we will find eachother again’ but after that nothing. I cannot even remember how long ago that was now Natasha, the years after being put through the mind control barely anything feels real. It was all confusing at the time trying to work out who this girl was that I kept seeing in my dreams and anytime I asked them it would only end in a beating. I knew not to ask anymore. But I remember being sent on this mission to kill you Natasha! I remember after I finally woke up again and saw your face that this person in front of me will help because my friend never gave up hope in you! It was like all I could see was Yelena and this random blue haired girl!”

“I'm not lying. I don't know who or what you're talking about!” another lie, slipping past her lips like it was nothing. Her lies only fueled you with more anger and frustration. Her face just stayed staring at you like she was trying to burn the lie into your head. You thought you knew her, but the person who was standing in front of you now lying was most definitely not the same person you shared a kiss with only moments ago.

“You said I could trust you Natasha. You might be able to get away with lying to the team but you're forgetting we were taught to lie by the same people. I can see straight through you.” your voice hit back at her laced with venom, she could see the disappointment in your eyes. You slowly turned to leave, you couldn't stand here with her right now knowing she was lying. How could she lie to you after everything she has helped you with over the last few months. You thought you loved her, you thought she might have loved you. You got off the bed and walked towards the door, you couldn't be here right now.

“Y/n/n wait.” she grabbed your wrist, stopping you from reaching the door, the same wrist that was littered in a big scar from the time you woke up. Her touch burnt, all she received from you was a flinch and you pulling your wrist from her touch.

“Don't you dare fucking touch me Natalia! Only moments ago I thought I finally had someone I could trust, someone who would keep me safe. But now all I see is the Black fucking Widow stood infront of me. So no Natalia, I won't wait. I won't stand here while you lie to me straight through your teeth. I wont stand here while you tell me you don't know who or what i’m talking about when I held that some person for months through her fucking tears because her so called sister left without her! I picked up the pieces you fucking ruined and now you expect me to stand here and think that you're telling me the truth and Yelena lied all those years? You expect me to think the voice in my head the day I woke up after I slit my wrist wide open telling me to trust you is fucking lying? Because if it was lying I wish, I fucking wish I let myself bleed out right then and there.” You knew you hit her then, like your voice was so loud filling the room like it was pounding in her ears. She knew you were right that it wasn’t her standing in front of you but was the Black Widow trying to manipulate her targets for information. Before she could even reply, the sound of the door slamming brought her back to focus. She quickly wiped her cheek as she felt the tears slowly falling from her eyes, not even remembering when she had started crying. Why did she lie? Why did she ruin the chances of you? Ruining your trust like it didn't take so much time to try and gain it? What had she done? Her and Yelena were ok now, they had worked on their differences and she had apologised for what had happened all the years ago but why wouldn't she tell you that? She knew Yelena held a grudge and hated her for leaving without her when they finally saw each other again but that wasn't the case now. Everything was different now and the main difference was Natasha finally realising that maybe she was falling for you and she had ruined all her chances in that becoming a reality. She needed to give you space, she knew that if she was to chase you now it would only make you more angry, she knew she needed to figure out how to talk to you and explain why she had done what she had done, until then she couldn't risk seeing you.

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It had been a week since your argument with Natasha. Nothing made sense to you. It was driving you crazy at how she lied to you like you were nothing to her, like you weren't the person she had spent nights laughing with over stupid movies and also crying too when talking about each other's pasts. You had only slept once since then, a few hours after your argument, you had finally made your way back to your room knowing she would have left. You felt exhausted, only moments before your argument you had woken up from a terrible nightmare to then being in the comfort of her arms, to then kissing her to then shouting. It was like the only thing your body wanted to do was sleep right then and there. When you woke up hours later looking at your clock did you see the time read 4am, you had slept for 12 hours and by that point you understood why.

-flashback-

You steadily got out of your bed still feeling disgusted from being in your gym clothes from the day before everything happened, you made your way to the shower knowing you needed to rid all this grime off of yourself. You stood still in the shower letting the water fall off your shoulders like it was the first time you had ever seen water before it felt relaxing. Letting yourself get lost in the feeling of it but still your mind grew to the thought of what it would be like if Natasha was standing behind you right now washing your hair, touching you so delicately like you could break from any sudden movement. It felt too overwhelming. You crumbled to your knees like your body could no longer hold your weight anymore, your tears getting lost within the water that was over your face. It felt like you couldn't breathe, you were trapped in a place with nobody you could trust. Your mind grew dark so quickly, like the only way to get out of this place was to reopen that wrist but she still lingered in your mind, the thought of her finding you on this shower floor was breaking you even more. Why were you still feeling this sympathy for her after everything that had happened. You couldn't do this you needed to get rid of this feeling inside, it felt like your body was on fire, you felt scared and it was something you hadn't felt for a few months now, you had felt safe in her presence to now feeling as if you would leave this room and pass out, you needed it gone. You scrambled up from your feet in a hurry trying to find anything in your bathroom for a release, you remembered Natasha had made sure anything you could hurt yourself with had been removed from your pending room after your incident. There was nothing in here you could even butter bread with, it only made you feel more anger towards her. You stopped looking, taking a deep breath and staring at yourself in the mirror, wiping your hand over the mirror to see yourself clearer due to the fog clinging to it. And that's when you realised this would do. Bringing your clenched fist up to pound into the mirror sending shards flying everywhere, thank god for your enhancements you thought, that brought a light chuckle out of you. Frantically picking a big enough shard off the floor and moving yourself to sit on the toilet you knew this would help. Blood came seeping out of each cut, dripping down your leg and running onto the floor, you knew you'd done enough. The pain you felt inside had felt like it had disappeared more and more after every cut. You moved back into the shower preparing yourself for the sharp stings of pain that would soon follow, washing yourself quickly and exiting your bathroom, closing the door and leaving it shut. You knew you’d had to clean up later but for now you dragged yourself back to your bed in hopes to sleep more even though you knew you wouldn’t.

-end flashback-

You sat on the balcony of the compound still trying to work out how and why this had happened, you hadn't seen her for a week, you knew people had grown suspicious as to why you weren't joint at her hip and instead was constantly wrapped in a blanket on the balcony. The only person to come over and talk to you was Wanda, you would never say much. Only asking her if she could get you some cigarettes from the shop and some vodka, you knew if she said no you could always just ask FRIDAY to get some delivered, but she always came back hours later with the two things you'd asked her for, you always sent her the softest smile with a quiet thank you and she would leave after that. You wondered if she knew she was feeding into your new addictions and a way to stop the pain coming forward. You wondered if you were taking advantage of her but still you never wondered to ask.

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You brought the cigarette up to your lips lighting it quickly, the feeling burning your throat and lungs as you slowly inhale the toxic chemicals it gives out, you had never smoked before this whole thing with Natasha, it wasn't until you had seen someone smoking in a movie did you grow curious of whole thing but now look, it was like you was a natural. Cigarette in one hand, half a bottle of vodka in the other, that is all you've done all week. You only moved from this spot to go to the toilet, not even bothering with food. It wasn't healthy and you knew that, you also knew this was a pathetic way of coping from everything with Natasha but it was helping.

A small cough is what brought you out of your train of thoughts, you looked up towards the door seeing her standing there. You hated how the first thing you thought was how beautiful she looked with the moonlight shining in just the right way. It made her eyes even more beautiful than they already were, you threw your head back to look at the trees across from you, no you needed to be angry at her.

“Smoking isn’t good for you, you know.” you wanted to chuckle at her but the hurt seeping through your veins was too much to deal with, gulping down the growing lump in your throat you continued smoking while staring. She sighed moving to sit opposite you so she constricted your view. You now sit facing her staring into her beautiful emerald orbs hoping the tears don't start to fall.

“I’m sorry” watching her slowly lowering her head after her words, her hands running through her hair, you're sure you heard a slight sniffle but you continued to stare, not caring to reply.

“Please say something, anything” she sounded so vulnerable, so small but you needed an explanation not just an apology. You go to speak but your tears are already threatening to fall so you turn your head to the side gulping down some vodka to ignore the pain.

“I'm not good at apologising, I'm even worse at talking about my past. I did lie. But I shouldn't have. I lied because I didn't want to remember what I did to her back then, the things I did in general back then.” you finally turned to look at her again slowly nodding for her to continue.

“Me and Yelena, we…errrr...we had a mission when we were young. Acting as sisters with two other agents as our parents. It was nice, you know, acting normal. I went from being in the Red Room, to a normal life. To then just be taken back away again. But it was different for her, I tried to not let them take her, she was too young, but like they said, I was younger…” she stayed staring down at her feet, you could tell it was a lot for her to be doing this, you were thankful she was opening up telling you the truth but you could see her discomfort seeping through. Holding out the bottle of vodka for her to take she brought her head up slowly looking at you and then to the bottle. She let out a light chuckle moving to accept the bottle from you and taking a drink. She gave it back, wiping the few tears that had escaped, you thought she was done talking until she sighed and carried on.

“I held her as they took us to the Red Room again, well me again, not her. It was terrifying. I just held her trying to shield her from seeing anything and everything, she just clung to me, sobbing. We were so young and I knew what was going to happen to her and there was nothing more I could do. I knew as soon as we were there she'd be taken from me and I'd never see her again. But I did see her, of course you know I did. It was quick stares walking past each other or it was me looking for her subtly when we would be eating, I couldn't protect her anymore. We could only protect ourselves. Any signs of love, affection or even friendship were frowned upon. How could I comfort her or look after her when everything I wanted to do I would have been punished for? That would have scared her even more. So I kept to myself.”

You didn't know how to react or what to do, the woman who was so continuously strong no matter what was thrown at her was sitting in front of you sobbing, it broke your heart and you knew it was breaking hers.

“Tasha, it's ok. Please.” you couldn't watch her cry anymore but you knew there was so much more she needed to say.

“No, y/n I...I need to do this.” you gave her a small nod, urging her to continue as you swallowed your own tears.

“She got out about 7 months ago too. Things happened and well me, her and our parents, Alexei and Melina. We took down Dreykov, we took down the main Red Room. I found out about all of these other widows that were placed all around the world being controlled. Yelena had this antidote that managed to break widows out of mind control, she found out the hard way what it was but we managed to save the widows that were at that Red Room. We only had one dose left, so with the help from Melina and Alexei they created more so they could go and save all the girls that were left. When you showed up I knew that clearly she hadn't finished the whole mission yet but I knew that 4 months wasn't a lot of time to do that hence why she hadn't reached you yet. I hadn't been in contact with any of them since then, I tried to get in touch but I never received anything back even up until two weeks ago.” she had stopped crying now, she looked more comfortable talking, it released this ache in your heart knowing she was becoming ok. You just wanted to hug her, so you did. You moved quickly, cigarettes and bottle of vodka long forgotten about and settled on her lap. She tensed slightly when you first sat down but soon enough you felt her relax, you just couldn't stop looking at her. Her eyes glassy from the tears she had shed, the light smell of the vodka she had drunk coming out from her lips as she breathed slowly. You just forgot everything that had happened in the past week. You cupped her face making sure all of her attention was on you, leaning in slowly to finally connect your lips in a gentle kiss. You finally moved away when you felt tears dripping down your cheeks, not evening knowing if they were yours or hers. Her hand came to settle on your cheek wiping away the tears that had fallen, the smallest of a smile on her face.

“I went to find them this week.” her words shocking you, making you shake your head confused. She laughed lightly at your reaction.

“Arguing with you just made me realise that I had no clue what was going on, I just left them with this information and took off, so I went to Melinas where I knew one of them would be and saw them there. That's why I had been gone all week.”

You felt relief when something rolled through you, although all this week you had been trying to avoid her, every time you moved from the balcony to the toilets you hoped she would pop out of nowhere. It wasn't until the third day you thought she was actively trying to avoid you too, it's what made you grow more angry. Thinking she just upped and left without a word but you now knew she didn't and suddenly all this anger and pain you felt towards her through the week was gone off your shoulders, but you now hated yourself for the way you reacted, the way you screamed and shouted at her for lying when now you understood why she done what she done out of fear of remembering. You hated yourself for the way you threw yourself into hurting yourself along with smoking and drinking. The guilt settled in your chest, it felt like it was too much to handle once again and you couldn't stop the tears from crashing down, a painful sob falling out of you as you suddenly felt like you could feel your thighs starting to tear and bleed again, like you could feel your throat burning from the bottles of vodka you had consumed and your lungs feeling as if they were suffocating from all the cigarettes you managed to smoke in such a short time.

Natasha reacted quickly, holding you tighter as you tucked yourself into the crook of her neck, a death grip on the back of her shirt as if, if you were to let go, this would all be a dream and she would disappear.

“Hey, hey, hey. Shhh it's ok, you're ok, I’m ok. We are ok. I'm here. I'm sorry for what happened and I'm sorry for leaving without explaining. I'm just so sorry.” her words were meant to be comforting but it only made you sob more.

“The things I did when you were gone Tasha, I overreacted. I'm sorry for everything I said that day of our argument. I understand everything now I do and I'm so grateful for you telling me and I'm so happy Yelena is safe. I'm so sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.” your voice muffled as you sobbed into her neck only made her grow nervous. No one had said anything about you all week when she called to check in on everyone.

“y/n, what happened?” She spoke so softly, one hand stroking small circles at the bottom of your back and the other hand moving to the side of your hair to move your head up so you were looking at her. It made the words you were trying to say even harder seeing how much her eyes showed her concern and worry.

“M...my...my bathroom, I...I...I ruined it, haven't been in my room since you left. I've stayed out here just smoking and drinking Tasha. I felt so angry and hurt and I hate what I did because now I understand why and what happened and I just overreacted so much and all I've done is cause myself pain and I know you don't want to know or even think that but I have. I hurt myself Tasha, I broke my mirror to do it, gosh thats so fucking stupid and it was only the one time and that doesn't make that ok I know that but it hurts so much. I feel like I'm suffocating, this guilt is too much. You've come back to explain and now here I sit crying and making it sound like everything I did this week was your fault but it wasn't. I'm sorry.” you rambled on continuing to sob, her eyes now just looked so sad, it broke you but you couldn't stop the ‘I’m sorrys’ from falling off your lips but she still stayed stroking your back, leaning your foreheads together telling you over and over that it was ok and she forgave you.

Your sobs finally slowly subsided, the exhaustion finally settling in after the week that had gone by so slowly, it consumed you. But Natasha never let up her continuous flow of ‘its oks’ and never failed to tell you ‘I’m here’ until you finally settled in silence. The silence felt comfortable between you, even though the past hour or maybe even longer held so much pain for the both of you. Your grib finally loosens on her t-shirt, moving to sit up straight to look at her.

“Я люблю вас” she blurts out in a hurry, you stayed staring at her in shock. You made no move to reply or even hug her or kiss her, it made her grow nervous. You felt her tense underneath you straight after it came flying out of her mouth.

“It's fine, you don’t need to...umpth” you cut her off short pulling her into an intense kiss, moving to straddle her lap, she moaned softly into you, making you melt. Even through the gentleness it still felt so rough and aggressive, neither of you pulling away until air became a problem.

“я люблю тебя больше моя Наталья”

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The night seemed to flow so much more calmly after your late night confessions. You both moved to Natashas suite in hopes of getting some more privacy. Your night consisted of movies playing in the background as you both consumed each other with so much love and affection. You knew for sure that no one could ever love you or care for you the way this woman could. It overfilled your heart with so much joy, that even after these years where she was in pain and she blamed herself and the word for everything that had happened to her, that she could still love and feel so deeply. How she could still love you with so much passion in such a short amount of time, when you both grew up being told that it would make you vulnerable and that it was for children.

You knew the way you grew up was terrible and traumatic but in this moment, laying in Natashas arms sharing the smallest of kisses, giggles erupting from both of you, kind words whispered as if anything louder would ruin the moment, you were somewhat grateful that somehow no matter where this life was suppose to take you or what was meant to happen with you, you had never been so happy to have failed your mission against Natasha Romanoff, because right now who knows where you would be or what you was doing. You managed to be so lucky that this woman still accepted you with open arms and made herself vulnerable and somewhere fall in love with you that nothing from your past mattered in this moment. All that mattered was the love you were sharing and the love you can only hope to continue to share into the future.

Maybe ‘None Of This Was Meant To Happen’ but god was you so incredibly happy that it did.

#natasha romonova #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #natalia alianovna romanova #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader

[technowoah]

since I'm a gremlin I can ask for a c!Schlatt angst fighting with reader while he's drunk and the reader is just fed up with dealing with him and goes "IF YOU LIKE SO MUCH TALKING YOU DON'T NEED ME I'M LEAVING!" and just walks away and he realizes the shit he's done?

(the same anon who wasn't prepared to be heartbroken-)

Heartless

Somehow you find your way back to Schlatt again and it never goes as well as you think.

- c!schlatt x reader

- angst

- anon!requested

- part 1 to this story

⚠︎: swearing, angst, alcoholism, mentions of dying, c!quackity makes a appearance, hopefully this is sad enough yall-

An// i decided to make this a part 2 to Have a Heart! So I hope you enjoy love!

The night is still cold and dark as you begrudgingly walk back to one of the buildings that was put up to replace whatever L'Manburg was there before. 

After Dream's word you had still contemplated going back to Schlatt. He doesn't deserve what you do, but you still end up walking along the Prime Path back to the drunken man. You had no end goal and that was a problem. You probably were going to be embarrassed that you came back to him. You couldn't let Schlatt die, from either the hands of someone else or let him die from himself.

You eventually found yourself in front of the metal doors that led into endless hallways of offices nobody occupied. The offices that had wine and cigarettes for Schlatt to smoke just in case he decided to have a meeting in a room that isn't the official meeting room. 

Walking down the hallways you saw that most of the doors to each office were open and most of the alcohol and cigarettes were taken from each room. You peaked inside every room to see if Schlatt was in there, but something in you told you not to because you weren't prepared. What were you going to say? Stop drinking? Because you're sure he'll know he's not going to stop. You want to try to save him.

You slowly opened a door to reveal an office that looked an absolute mess. The small refrigerator was knocked over and all of the wine off the shelf was either shattered on the floor or gone. There were cigarette butts on the ground and lit a cigar, there were also papers and folders all across the room.

You whispered as you walked around the lit room "Schlatt must've been in here."

"Sure as hell he was!"

You spun around to see Quackity looking disheveled as ever. He had a bottle of liquor in his hand, his beanie threatened to fall off of his head and his suit now only a white button up with his dress pants still on.

"I've been running around this goddamn place trying to keep that ram man at peace! He's gonna drink himself to death." Quackity huffed while looking around the hallway.

"I know." 

"That's why you're here huh?"

You sighed at the realization. "Yes it is. I don't want him to drink himself to death. Death isn't what I want."

"Well, it's too late for that." Quackity faced away from you not wanting to look you in the eyes.

You stayed silent until Quackity spoke up again.

"You want me to take you to him? Wanna see him one last time before he dies-"

"Don't say that!" You rolled your eyes 

"Are you fucking kidding me? It's inevitable Y/N! His body is now 70 percent alcohol and his lungs are filled with smoke!" Quackity laughed in disbelief. "I don't want him to die! But its fucking inevitable. Either from someone else or-"

"Himself." You finished his sentence.

"Exactly!" He opened his mouth to speak again but apparently decided against it.

Quackity began to lead you out of the office and down the long hallway you two walked slowly not even knowing where Schlatt was in the whole building. You and Quackity made small talk.

"I hate this. I had to find this liquor and deliver it to him and now I can't find him."

"I came here to try and save him from himself and you're here feeding the problem."

"What else do you want me to do?" He grunted.

"Stop him!"

"If I stop him he's gonna be even worse so-!" Quackity threw up his hands in frustration as you two kept walking.

"I actually have something to tell you." Quackity spoke up after the silence.

"Quackity! Ah there you are!" Schlatt came around the corner behind you both and you turned around to meet the man you both have been looking for stumbling down the hallway.

"Ah you bitch! I thought I told you to leave!"

"Here we go." You rolled your eyes.

"Hey Schlatt! Here's the Liquor you wanted!" Quackity tried to liven up the situation by reaching the bottle out to Schlatt.

"He doesn't need it."

"Yeah I do, who are you to tell me what to do!" Schlatt yelled, not even taking the drink out of Quackity's hand. 

"Schlatt just calm down-"

"No! They made a mistake and they cant even do what I fucking say! They'll keep coming back to me, against my wishes!" Schlatt interrupted Quackity while flailing his arms around.

You stood still not wanting to hear him anymore. Ever since he won the presidential debate the first couple of months he's been sober with only a few drinks here and there. Now he's a full on alcoholic, only damaging himself and his presidency. It's a sad sight to see and you don't want to see it, so you can either run away and know it's still there or fix it and never see it again. 

"Schlatt I want to help." You hesitated before stepping forward.

"Same here Schlatt." Quackity agreed with you.

"You, you! Aren't any help!" He pointed directly at you while trying to keep himself upright. 

"How aren't I any help!?" You yelled back. "I've done everything for you and now you're digging yourself a grave Schlatt!"

"You think you're the best thing ever huh?! Im fucking fine! I can stand on my own two fucking feet!"

Schlatt wasn't standing up straight, he was stumbling either backwards or forward. His body threatened to fall onto the marble floor and he couldn't even stand up straight. His speech was slurring together as well you could barely understand him.

You finally responded to Schlatt. "Schlatt you're stumbling around like- like I don't even know what! I can't understand you and you just need to stop!"

"You're so useless! Not useful to me or my presidency! I can stand up straight and I'm completely fine shut the fuck up!" He yelled while leaning to the side.

"I'd rather die alone! Without you or Quackity." Schlatt yelled again

"That's what you're going to do anyways." Quackity whispered under his breath.

Schlatt kept babbling nonsense as his back slid down one of the walls as he sat on the floor. Head pulled to the side. It was a sad sight to see, you hated to see this man drink himself to death and apparently Quackity, who was looking at the ram man the same way, standing silently next to you.

"Schlatt this-"

"I dont fucking care what you think! You're the worst person I've ever met! You both made my life hell and that's why Im fucking drinking my life away so I wont see any of you're fucking faces!" Schlatt tried to stand up but failed in doing so.

He continued talking. "I am the best thing that happened to this country! I saved both of you from a tyrant! And you thank me by driving me into this state!" 

You felt your eyes threatening to spill tears the second time today.

"Schlatt that isn't me that's doing this shit!" 

"How the fuck would you know?!" 

"I can't. But Ive done every fucking thing for you! You cannot say I haven't!" You yelled back as he rolled his eyes with a rebuttal already on the tip of his tongue.

"Sure as hell I can! I have fucking proof-!"

"What proof?!" You interrupted his babbling even though he kept going.

"I- I!" he stammered not having a rebuttal this time.

"You're incapable of doing anything Schlatt let someone help you for fucks sake-"

"I'd rather die alone than sit here and be lectured by the likes of you!" Schlatt yelled.

"You are going to die alone, old man!" Quackity spoke up. "That's what they're trying to tell you!" 

"You shouldn't be giving me a lecture! Im the mother fucking president! I should be talking, but apparently its not fucking work-" 

"IF YOU LIKE SO MUCH TALKING YOU DON'T NEED ME I'M LEAVING!" You interrupted him and stomped down the hallway for the second time today.

As you walked down the hallway you heard a faint "wait" from Schlatt on the floor. You stopped and looked back to see Schlatt looking at you with some sort of realization in his eyes. Quackity was standing over him shaking his head.

"You know what? I don't even know why I helped you. Probably for power, but I don't need you for that." Quackity walked away towards your way. "Go ahead and die alone like you said old man." 

Quackity caught your gaze and he smiled and shook his head again. He finally reached where you were standing and started talking to you.

"Maybe this isn't a good time, maybe it is. But I am joining Pogtopia. Wilbur said he needs a lot of people for this to work so consider this an invitation." He gave you a thin lipped smile and walked past you giving you a good look at Schlatt, laying fully on the ground.

"Y/N wait, just hold on for a second." Schlatt said while on his side, not even bothering to look at you.

You didn't say anything and followed Quackity's path, down the hallway and out of the door. Behind you, you could only hear the distant groans and pleas of the drunken man behind you. You tried your best to help and that's all you could do. But you couldn't watch that man die.

Taglist: MCYT Imagines: @annshit @bobaducky @malfoysslutt @alec-lost-bee @egorldevi

#mcyt blurb #mcyt x reader #mcyt fluff #mcyt angst #mcyt headcanons #dream smp x reader #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #jschlatt x reader #c!schlatt x reader #platonic mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #quackity x reader #dsmp x reader #schlatt imagine #schlatt angst #schlatt fluff #quackity angst #mcyt x platonic reader #c!schlatt imagine #c!quackity x reader #mcyt writers #mcyt writing #mcyt reader insert #mcyt requests

[katsukikitten]

Time spent with Todoroki.

Warnings: This is a Pro Hero aged up AU, think late twenties. Adult themes such as sex are to follow. Please enjoy

Shoto was by far your favorite sugar daddy. He showered you in lavish gifts and gave you the pipe often. He checked your bank account and made sure it never fell below a certain amount and paraded you around town like the Princess you were. But most importantly he was stoic. Doing nothing more than wiping you up with a warm rag once the two of you were finished, never clinging to you with desperate hands like many other sugar daddies had. Hoping their money would make you giddy and buy your love. Maybe it would have, had you not already run out of love for people. Your heart broken one too many times by a long term relationship causing you to vow that money was your only love. 

People were just too disappointing. 

Your contracts with Shoto were medium in length, anywhere between three to five months mostly because he likes to keep his "options open." Which filled you with pure lust for him, knowing you could get away with your kinks without worrying over some man falling for you. 

Still, it was difficult for the Pro hero not to fall for you, at first he had no interest in love. Having sworn it off mostly for fear of failure thanks to his dysfunctional family. It was the main reason he started looking into sugar baby websites, he saw your profile picture and your bolded No strings attached. He liked the idea of that, loved it really and yet, he became tangled in you after the renewal of your second contract. He tried to suppress the warm feeling in his chest, he found it difficult more times than not. 

Especially now, with you on your knees with his guicci jacket spread out on the tile of the bathroom floor as your lipstick clad lips wrap around his cock. Your cheeks hollowed and your eyes looking up at him with enchanting lust. He fists your hair shoving you further on his cock. Your eyes water as you gag softly and Todoroki is just thankful your makeup is waterproof. 

The sight and the sounds make him groan while your manicured nails dig into his bare thigh. You rub your thighs for friction, moaning around his cock, it's enough to send Shoto over the edge. Hot ropes of cum hit the back of your throat as his grip on your styled hair tightens. 

"Fuck Princess…." He moans bucking into your mouth, sharp eyes look down at you. Seeing a powerful man come undone for you is enough to keep you content for now. 

"Sir will take care of you after the gala okay?" His cheeks are still a little red as he runs his hand over your hair. Lifting you off the floor before fixing himself. He gives you a light spin, making sure nothing scuffed your gorgeous designer dress before he exits the stall. Pushing back his long hair while you retouch your lipstick with a knowing smirk. 

The two of you waltz back to the party, sans his jacket, abandoning the designer garment without a second thought. The price of it was barely a drop in his bucket. It could have been half of his bucket for all he cared, his mind always swimming with thoughts of you.  He places his hand on the small of your back as he guides you back to the table, dinner half forgotten once your hand wandered towards his crotch for a tease. 

"F...find the bar okay?' Izuku asks as you take your seat, your sly hand going for your wine. Uraraka blushes when you give her a wink. 

"Just fine." Shoto says sipping his whisky. 

"So who's won awards so far?" You ask with gleaming eyes, Izuku smiles. 

"Kaachan for most villains caught. Kirishima for the safest feeling hero, myself for rescue ratio." He holds up his small little trophy, "And you, Shouto, for most mysterious." 

"What about the rankings? Did we miss that?" 

"No they are about to announce it!" Uraraka exclaims, eyes glittering with excitement and wine. Her chestnut eyes slide over to her emerald eye date, hoping for the best for him. 

The announcer steps to the stage, his sapphire blue suit catching everyone's eye as he takes the center. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a night filled with congratulations and cheer but now is the moment you've been waiting for, tonight we will reveal the top three heroes. Voted in by a strenuous board appointed by the fans, we finally present the BIG THREE!" 

Some tables erupt in cheers while the host takes his dramatic pause, when the sound dies down the host brandishes the golden envelope. 

As he announces your hand wanders again, playing with your favorite toy, Shouto's face gives way nothing as the host drags out the awards. Explaining how long the winner's speeches should be. Soon Shouto cannot ignore your hands creeping on his clothed cock that throbs beneath your fingers. He knows he can't wait through what's bound to be a half an hour. He rises excusing himself dragging you with him before you're being cornered against a wall in some random closet. 

"So impatient, princess." He bites out, kissing your throat, sliding down to your exposed collar bone while his hand ventures between your thighs. Calloused pads circling your puffy clit as you let out a loud moan that's swallowed by the cheering of the gala room. Impatient himself he undoes his pants, stroking himself with his free hand while you cum on his fingers. 

After the coil in your stomach snaps for a third time he's satisfied, kissing you as he aligns the tip of his dick to your quivering entrance.

"Fuck, Shouto. Fuck me please, sir!" You beg, making his head spin, alcohol mingling in the small dark space. 

"Be patient kitten. Sir will fuck you right baby." He grunts, sheathing himself into your soaking core.  You cry out, clawing at his back through his shirt. The smell of biting cold hair mingling with the hearty smoke of a bonfire engulfs you as you press your face into his chest. He lifts both of your legs, strong hands grabbing onto thick thighs as he fucks into you with a deadly pace. Slapping skin and lewd wet sounds echo back to the two of you, encouraging his pistoning hips. 

"Listen to those sounds Princess, your pussy sounds so pretty." He bites at your ear as you endlessly moan and whimper into his chest. Cunt clenching as he drives over your spongy spot, the head of his cock going deeper with each thrust. Soon it all becomes too much, your vision spots panting as you cry out in ecstasy, body ridged and arching to meet him. 

"Cumming on my cock already?" He coos, fucking you through your next orgasim as your legs shake around him. Toes pointed in your red bottoms as you attempt to hold onto him for dear life. 

"S..sir! You cry out, "I'm gonna...nnngghhh." 

He ruts into you, pressing you further into the wall as he frees up one hand to play with your throbbing clit. Rubbing harsh circles as he loses focus on his precise thrusts that turn sloppy. His eyes too focused on you as you cum, milking his cock. Your eyes flutter, desperately attempting to hold eye contact as one hand palms your breast and the other scratches at the skin at the nape of his neck. Your tongue lulls out just a bit as your mouth makes a sinful O shape, a few tears of over stimulation fall down your cheeks as he continues to fuck into your wet cunt. The sight makes him explode into you, warm spurts of cum causing you to whimper and clench in delight as he ruts until he is done.  He sets his sweaty forehead against yours, panting as words claw up his throat. 

"I love..." He whispers, catching himself just in time, "Your tight cunt." 

He kisses you, hoping you don't think anything more of it. 

After a few minutes, and Shouto's cock softens, he withdraws. Wiping you up with a wipe from your purse as the two of you check the other for fluids. A drunken cat smile plastered on your lips as you reapply your lipstick, wiping away the stains on his dark grey shirt and collar. 

The two of you step into the hall just in time as the doors start to open. Quickly and calmly you grab for your pack of cigarettes, your normal alabi, placing the stick in your mouth. Shouto, much like a gentleman, lights it as you inhale to keep the tip a burning ember. Gently blowing the smoke over his clothes, careful to avoid his face as you waft the burning stick around yourself as if it were an incense. Knowing good and well the smell of smoke always hides the salty smell of sex. Quickly you extinguish it on an ice cube that Todoroki provides, you toss the cube in the closet and the half of a smoke into your burkin slamming it shut just as a small group of sidekicks approach. 

"Shouto! Wow! I can't believe it was a three way tie this year! Congrats to you, Deku and Dynamight!" They drunkenly cheer, "It's crazy how that happened." 

"You're so secretive, your manager accepted the award on your behalf even though you were here tonight!"

A stream of people dot on your date as you cling to his muscular arm while you harbor a secret of your own. Cum dribbles between your thighs as you think of his sweaty head against yours. It feels good to be a Pro hero sugar baby. 

"You staying the night again?" Shouto asks as he presses a cold water bottle to your palm, your body covered in a sheen of post sex sweat from a week's worth of fun. You give him a small smile as you sit up, tits bouncing as you readjust entirely. You can feel his icy hot gaze as it rakes over your body, feeling the goose flesh prick along your skin as it does with the threat of an oncoming summer storm. 

"I wanna discuss the renewal of our contract. Plus we have a final date per the expiring one." He says as he rises, heading towards the luxurious ensuite to start a shower for you both. 

"Hmmm guess I could. How much longer do we have left?" You never really paid attention to this things, always being satisfied with whatever Shouto gave you. 

"Two weeks." He returns back from the bathroom, grabbing his wallet from his bedside table. Pulling out his onyx black card, he places it in your hand. His eyes holding yours, you give a devilish grin. 

"Sir has a lot of paperwork for the agency to do today. Buy a dress I want to fuck you in and anything else you want to match okay baby girl?" He leans down to give your forehead a kiss while you giggle. Unable to hide the giddy that bubbles beneath your skin, you wrap your arms around him. 

"Thank you sir!" You exclaim, pepper his cheeks with kisses as you pull back, "Do I get to pick the date again?"

"Mmhmm." He encourages, running his hand up your bare bare as you squeal with delight.  You rush to the bathroom before he slowly follows behind. While under the hot stream the two of you make out for far too long, tongues fighting as the two of you exchange laughs before you add a playful statement that stays with the two toned hair man as he sits in his boring home office. 

"I'm going to get a dress so classy and sinful you'll fuck me on the spot!" 

His eyes wander to the photo on his desk, the one of your first date. The one you insisted the two of you take after a month of late booty calls since he paid for the "girlfriend" package. The two of you are bundled in warm coats, you cling to his firey side as you laugh and he just barely smirks. 

Looking back he thinks this is when he started to fall for you. You had never been ice skating before and insisted on going while the two of you were in NYC for important PR interviews for the cold and mysterious hero. Because that's what people did in the movies while in NYC, put on their skates at the Rockefeller rink to glide along the ice beneath the sparkling lights of the giant Christmas tree. It was busy, he opted for no skates, as he did better without but he helped you lace yours. Being ginger for the first time in his life as he helped you onto the ice, after demanding a moment of independence you had fallen straight onto your ass. Giving Shouto second hand embarrassment but instead of yelling, crying out or giving up, you laughed. Genuinely laughed as you reached for his steady hand, captivating the whole rink for a moment. It felt like magic had washed over the ice, as snow slowly danced into your hair and the colorful lights danced across your eyes. Just like that the spell was broken with a flash of light. A stranger approached to give you a small tip on how to skate and the polaroid he had taken. You thanked them with a smile placing the photo into your coat pocket leaning into Shoto to share a secret. 

"Now we have our first 'date' immortalized!"  You had giggled, gliding across the ice as if you were ethereal, hands outstretched for Shoto to join you. 

He wonders how you're doing at the shops. He occasionally gets a text or two from you. Sexy pictures of you in the changing room as you obviously buy lingerie as well. 

He fists his cock enough times he gets no work done and by the time he convinces himself enough is enough you come home. 

Wearing that damned devilish smirk. 

And so another week passes in the four walls of his bedroom. Your bank account as stuffed as your pussy as you bounce on his heating and cooling cock. 

"Fuck, baby fuck." Is all Todoroki can say as you chase your own high. His blunt nails clawing at your thighs as your tits bounce. Your mouth opens into that gorgeous O as you seek out that delicious friction on your clit. The coil in your stomach snaps as your humping becomes erratic and sloppy but still enough for your tight cunt to spasm wonderfully over Todoroki. So nice is the sight, sound and smell of you that Todoroki pumps his hips up into you twice before he paints your velvety walls, his eyes focused on you. 

"Fuck." He presses his sweaty head into the silk of his pillow case. Two toned hair clinging to his forehead. You lean over and kiss his cheek. 

"Thanks for the ride Pro hero." You wink before you dismount. Stretching towards the sky once your feet hit the warmed hardwoods, you begin to make your way towards the bathroom. Phone in hand. 

"I wanted to talk about extending your contract." Todoroki says, staring after you, "At dinner tonight." 

"It expired tonight right?" You say, looking over your shoulder while your phone lights up with an alert, "No need for dinner." 

"What do you mean?" He calls to you as you start the shower. 

"I mean, I think we should let the contract expire. Keep things fresh you know? Keep our options open?" 

He jumps to his feet and begs the urgency to die in his step. Calmly with somber steps making his way to the ensuite. He finds you already in the shower, water washes away the smell of sweat. The smell of him as your phone glares up at him. He taps the screen and your recent notifications wave at him as he stares down. 

Reading one of them in horror. 

Todoroki isn't sure why he feels this way as he looks at your phone on his vanity. As if the world fell from beneath his feet. His throat burns as he stares at the illuminated glass, spiraling as steam clouds his vision that begins to blur. He knew what he signed up for, he wanted this. 

This detached, heart hidden exchange in hopes of choking down the loneliness 

But he never expected that when this ended it would feel as if his heart had been ripped out, stepped on and crushed beneath the heel of one of your red bottomed shoes. 

"Come on aren't you joining me for our last shower iced cutie?" 

"Uh yes I'm coming." He steps into the shower as the push alert on your phone burns into his brain. 

"Kirishima Eijirou has put in an offer." 

#todoroki x reader #todoroki sugar daddy #bnha au #aged up au

[hopeless-ro-simptic]

Familiar Cerulean Eyes

Might change title later. 

Omegaverse: Alpha Dabi X Omega Reader, also a little bit of Alpha Shoto x Omega Reader. 

Summary (Kinda?): Reader was sold to the Todoroki family to be Touya Todoroki’s mate when they reached of age due to the readers nullification skin quirk (I don’t know what to call it). Endevor was 100% sure that Touya would present as an Alpha and the reader has been showing signs of being an Omega since early childhood. However, after Touya died *Ahem*, Endevor kept reader around with the plans of giving her to one of his other kids if they showed promise. Shoto being the one that was chosen for her after he presented. However things go sideways when she is kidnapped by Dabi. 

Notes: Reader has a nullification quirk that only works on her own body. Basically her skin acts as a barrier and anything that is made from a quirk cannot effect her. Example being that she isn’t burnt by any of the Todoroki’s fire, by the airborn effects such as the smoke that she inhales still cause damage. Physical quirks like Kirishima wouldn’t be affected by her quirk. Also piercing quirks that deal with getting past her skin like Toga’s or Stains would still affect her. Feel free to ask questions! 

Also this is a slow burn. There is no smut in this part but I expect there will be at some point. 

Click here for a full list of parts! Part 2  

Word count: 3.5 K 

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Fire. It was everywhere. You had never seen a fire this large, you were completely engulfed in the flames, yet you weren’t burning. You’re quirk was the reasoning, preventing any damage to you from outside quirks. That was the entire reason that the alpha Enji Todoroki bought you, because he knew you couldn’t be harmed by the current inferno that was his eldest son Touya Todoroki.

“Y/N!” Came the gruff Alpha voice of the current number two hero, glaring down at you. “Make him stop before he burns this whole place down.”

You shivered, even at such a young age, you showed all the tale tell signs of being an Omega. You wanted to tuck tail and run away from the angry Alpha glaring down at you, but you didn’t dare. Glancing back at the raging inferno, you hesitated, while it wouldn’t burn you to touch the fire, it didn’t make it any less terrifying.

“GO!” The smack across your petite face made you chirp loudly with pain, covering your swelling cheek with your hand, tears springing to your eyes.

The fire in front of you both suddenly switched to a different hue, and you could tell that it was burning even hotter than before. The fire was the last time you looked at something with that shade of blue and enjoyed it.

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Piercing blue eyes glared at you from across the room as you gathered up the plates from the table. They followed your every move and you could feel your omega begging to release out a distress scent or to chirp or anything under the terrifying glare of the imposing Alpha. Why was he still here?

“Y/N, I will accompany you to the market today.  I have a couple things I need to get anyways.” Shoto was releasing his usual calming scent but he wasn’t even looking at you. He was watching the news on his phone, completely ignoring whatever conversation his father was trying to have with him.  

“Okay, great.” You tried to keep your voice even as you finished up the dishes quickly. You wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. Your omega even more so, but you should of paid attention to how you worded your response.

“He is an Alpha and you will regard him as such!” The larger Alpha’s voice rang throughout the house and you could feel your body freeze against it’s own will. You let out the softest of all chirps, hearing the chair scratch against the floor as he stood up, the temperature in the room raising.

“I am not her Alpha yet. She can address me as she pleases!” Shoto’s own alpha voice rang out against his father’s, steam building in the room as the hot and cold met. You closed your eyes and slapped an imaginary hand across your omegas mouth to keep her quiet. If you didn’t react, he would leave you alone.

“Let’s go Y/N. I’ll have the car pulled around.” You immediately turned and dashed from the room following Shoto’s quick stride, only stopping to quickly bow to Enji, your eyes downcast.

Once in the car, Shoto let out a soft sigh, his eyes watching outside the window. It was a Saturday, and he didn’t have classes for the day which is the only reason you were allowed outside of the house, away from the protective scent of the pack.

“I’m sorry, Shoto… I should have chosen my words more carefully.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t even glance at you, causing a slight frown to cross your face. He had grown so detached from you recently since he had told you he wanted to wait until he graduated from UA to bond with you. You had been totally fine with the request, and in all honesty you were relieved. You had grown up together, and you knew that one day it would have to happen, but you were very much so uncomfortable with the thought of being intimate with Shoto. You knew he probably felt just as uncomfortable. But that didn’t stop your Omega from worrying about the fact that Shoto may never want to be with you like that.

“A-are we okay?” You could feel your omega start to stress, a sour smell filling up the car as you crossed your arms around yourself feeling the overwhelming anxiety creeping in of a mate that would never want you. You knew from the day that your family sold you to the Todoroki’s because of your quirk that life wouldn’t be a fairy tale, but you had always latched onto the fact that the Todoroki pups were so sweet to you from the moment you met. After your to be mate, Touya had died, Shoto was always there to tell you it wasn’t your fault. You had hoped that you could at least be happy with him.

Shoto finally looked at you, his nose scrunching up at the smell emiting from your omega, him releasing his own calming scent, much stronger than at the house. Waving you over to him you shuffled across the seat and up against his warm left side, desperately trying to keep your emotions in check. He pulled your hair back and nuzzling up against your scent glands trying to calm you down the way he often saw other alphas do, making sure to scent you lightly so that you would be safe at the market from other alphas.

“Y/N, relax, we are fine. It will all be fine. Once I graduate and become a pro hero, we can bond and we won’t have to stay in that awful house anymore. Then you can nest all you want and no one will take it apart. I promise. I’m sorry for making you feel like this.”

You relaxed once you were engulfed in his scent, peppermint filling up your nose. While he was a couple years younger than you, you knew he would make a great alpha. He did genuinely care about you, and you knew he would always protect you and keep you safe. He wouldn’t get mad at you when you “made a mess” of your room nesting. Maybe one day you two would be able to be proper mates and there will be a different kind of love there. Maybe some pups of your own. 

The car had pulled to a stop and you let Shoto finish up scenting you to cover up your own omega smell before you both exited the car. Shoto offered you his hand to help you out which you happily took, and was a little shocked when he didn’t immediately let go of it. His grip was light and awkward but at least he was trying to show you it was okay. It was short lived though when about ten feet into the market it was too crowded to even hold hands. Instead you lightly gripped onto the back of his shirt following him closely as he weaved through the crowd.

You followed him like that for about ten minutes, only briefly pausing at stalls to pick up the short grocery list that you had brought with you for the week. Only after the list was complete did he finally stop at a stall with freshly made Soba. Rolling your eyes as he weighed his choices as to have it hot or cold you looked around the market.

Something smelled… familiar… but also new at the same time. It was hard to pick it out over all of the mingling scents from the many different people around you. You also weirdly felt like you were being watched. Glancing around you didn’t see anyone staring at you that you noticed, and what was weird about it was that your Omega didn’t feel threatened. Shrugging it off as Shoto turned to ask you what your order was, the world around you exploded into chaos.

“Fire!” Screams surrounded you at every turn and the air turned foul as all of the panicked scents filled the air. Soot covered people’s faces and you could feel the heat of the fire but couldn’t see where it was coming from. Shoto was gone from your sight and immediately your Omega screamed out for him to come back. Desperately wanting to smell his familiar and comforting scent again. You were shoved to the ground by a passing beta group and you felt a sharp pain in your wrist as you braced yourself against the ground.

“Shoto!” Tears were streaming down your face and you weren’t even sure when you started crying. Everything was getting hazy and the smoke in the area was making it hard to see or breathe. The fire must be close if it was affecting you like this. Briefly you wondered if you were in the fire yourself. You could hear others calling out and screaming to run around you but you were frozen to your spot in fear. You hated fire. Everything about it was awful. Memories started swimming in your head of cerulean blue eyes and a fire that matched them as well as the red fires that emanated from the Alpha back at home that hated you.

You felt yourself curl up in a tight ball on the floor behind the food stall, your omega chirping wildly, desperately just wanting Shoto to come back and take you away from all of this. Where did he even go? Probably to go be a hero and put the fire out, but why would he leave you alone?

You sat frozen like that, in full panicked omega mode, for what felt like hours but in reality was only a few minutes before you passed out from the smoke fumes. Only waking up when lean arms reached under you, picking you up and cradling you in their arms protectively before carrying you off to safety of home. You barely registered the pretty blue of the eyes staring down at you before you were out again, consumed in darkness.

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Blue flames fading to red licked against your skin, you not feeling anything but an uncomfortable heat from them as you pushed through the smoldering rubble searching, screaming.

“Touya! Where are you?” You choked on the smoke filling your lungs, but you didn’t dare stop searching. This was your fault. You should have gone in and calmed him down when you were told. It would be your fault if he overheated. Your fault if he got hurt, if he…

No. There was no way. You pushed past the burning in your lungs from the smoke. While the quirk created fire couldn’t hurt you, the smoke that resulted from it definitely could. But still, you kept searching, and you would keep searching until the fireman came and pulled you away, tears streaming down your face as you realized that you’re to be mate was no where to be found.

You would never forgive yourself for the death of Touya Todoroki.

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You sat up with a start, your head pounding as you gasped for air, your lungs still thinking they were full of smoke. You were surrounded by a scent you didn’t recognize. No, that’s not entirely true. You had smelled it before, but you couldn’t place where. It was a strange smell, like a cinnamon whiskey covered in smoke and tobacco. Rubbing your head you looked around at your surroundings, letting out a chirp and pulling your knees into your chest when you realized you were being watched.

The bedroom you were in didn’t look familiar, but the cerulean eyes staring back at you from a chair in the corner distracted you from looking in detail. The lights were out and the dark grey walls made you feel like you were in a teenagers goth bedroom, the only light coming from between the blinds on the window. Other than the bed, a dresser and the chair, there wasn’t very much in the room, if you excluded the overwhelmingly tall and lean black haired alpha that was splayed out comfortably across that chair, his eyes never leaving yours as you did a quick scan of the room, a smirk on his lips.

Even in the barely lit room, you didn’t miss the glint of silver staples and the marred purple-toned skin. You also couldn’t ignore the section of the ceiling that was scorched black above your head. Your eyes widened at the realization that the delicious and somewhat familiar scent was emitting from the alpha in front of you. The smell of cinnamon whiskey and tobacco engulfed in smoke was oddly a warm and welcome smell, but that didn’t change the fact that it was coming from one of the most notorious villains in Japan.

His eyes never left yours as you did a quick mental scan of yourself. You don’t think you were injured other than the throbbing in your right wrist. You also were still in the same clothes as you had been wearing at the market, and even though the alphas scent was strong, you could barely make out the peppermint smell of Shoto, comforting you a little at knowing the alpha hadn’t forcefully scented you. Yet.

The Alpha in question was growing tired of the silent game but he was just as stubborn to let you speak first, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips, lighting the end of it with his pinky at the same time. The small candle sized blue flame was enough to have your omega releasing a distress scent that you were surprised you were able to hold back until now.

The Alpha merely glanced back up at your form, his eyes raking your body slowly, enjoying the view that was in front of him.  The way his eyes hugged the curves of your body, slowing down in parts that particularly enticed him, had you shivering like a wet pup. Once his eyes reached yours again, you watched as his tounge slipped out, sporting a glinting metal ball, licking his lips slowly keeping eye contact with you.

The omega in the back of your head, the one that apparently had a death wish, made a quip about how hot that was but you immediately shut her up and reminded her who exactly you were dealing with.  And as if you needed to be reminded, the Alpha finally, taking his time, stood up, towering over you and taking up a majority of the small room. You watched as he flicked his smoked cigarette to the floor, stepping on it to put it out.  You couldn’t help but pull yourself into the corner of the bed, inching away from him and pulling into yourself, chirping wildly as you closed your eyes waiting to die. You weren’t sure how he was going to kill you, but you didn’t think it was going to be quick when he found out he couldn’t burn you.

Instead of the all too familiar heat from fire, you felt the bed dip as his rough hand slip underneath your jaw, forcing it up to look at him. Opening your eyes you were nose to nose with the bright blue eyes that took your breath away. From this close you could see all the little flecks in them that made up their piercing color. They looked rather familiar.. handsome even, but you refused the dwell on that and forced yourself to stop chirping  and releasing your distress scent as it clearly wasn’t helping the situation. You recognized that the villain probably had the room scent proofed and sound proof, or you were far enough away from civilization that no one would come to your rescue just based off of a distressed omega.

Covering your omega’s distress was difficult, but you had plenty of practice in the last several years, and you were all too familiar with the fact that some alpha’s got off on terrified omegas.

He still didn’t speak as he looked down at you, in fact he didn’t seemed rushed at all as his eyes searched yours for something you weren’t sure, flicking to different parts of your face like he was trying to memorize it. His grasp on your chin didn’t loosen either though, and his free hand snaked its way onto one of your ankles, gripping it lightly, to keep you in place.

You couldn’t handle the silence anymore.

“Are you going to kill me?”

The smirk on his face faltered and a look of almost confusion and something else briefly passed across his face, before it was covered back up with the signature smirk.

“Why would I do that little mouse?”

“Because you’re a villain..” You’re voice was scratchy. You were thirsty, but you weren’t about to tell the murderer in front of you that.

“Ah, so you do know who I am.”

You nodded, unconsciously licking your lips to relieve the ache that was settling there from the dryness. This only caused the villain in front of you to shift his gaze down to your lips, his own parting slightly, breathing in your scent.

“What’s my name?” His voice had dropped an octave and sounded raspier now, which you didn’t think was possible. The sound of it stirred something deep inside you that you begged to hush. The omega inside you was at war with itself. You reminded it once again that you were face to face, nose to nose, with a damned murderer. So to further remind yourself, you forced out his name between clenched teeth.

“Dabi.”

It almost seemed like the villain pouted for a second, like he was wanting another answer, but instead of providing you insight to his reaction, he pulled away from you,  turning back to his chair and sitting down. A wrinkle on his nose in disgust.

“Why do you smell like that half and half hero brat?” That caught you off guard. How did he know Shoto’s smell? How long was he watching you before he captured you?

“H-he’s my alpha..”

“You’re not bonded.” He pointed out lazily.

“We were waiting.”

“What would he possibly be waiting for? That’s just an invitation for someone else to come along and snatch you up5. By the smell of things, he doesn’t even take the time to scent you thoroughly. You sure he even wants you? Has he even noticed you’re gone?”

Your omega let out a soft chirp, hurt by Dabi’s words. You didn’t need to be reminded of anything that he was saying. In the back of your mind you knew it was all true. As much as Shoto tried for your benefit to make things work between you two, you wondered if he even cared that you were gone. Losing you meant he finally had the free will to court whoever he wanted. That Momo girl he was always talking about from school came immediately to your mind.

You tried to push these thoughts to the back of your mind and remind yourself that Shoto still cared about you and still would protect you no matter what. You tried to tell yourself that he was probably on his way right now to come save you and that once he did he would pull you into his arms and dispel any of the villains scent and replace it with his own until you couldn’t smell anything but peppermint.

You also ignored the lone thought pressing into your skull from all sides that maybe you didn’t want Shoto to come rescue you. Maybe you could get out of this without his help and maybe you could start a new life, one where you got to choose your own Alpha.

“Let me go.” Your voice barely a whisper, you couldn’t meet the eyes of the Alpha in front of you.

“No.” He snorted and rolled his eyes like what you said was the stupidest thing he ever heard, and maybe it was given that you just asked a psychopathic killer to just let you go on a whim. “Here’s the deal. You are staying here with me, because you are mine.”

You met his eyes when he said that. Confusion and a bit of fear creeping back into your face. Your heart rate picking up as you hugged your body to shield it from him.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bond you without permission, I’m not into rape.” His face showed that he meant that at least, the disgust at even the thought of a forced bond evident for a moment before he shook his head, his eyes caressing your body once again just like he had done several minutes earlier. “But mark my words, Omega, I’ll get permission.”

He licked his lips slowly, once again showing off the piercing in his tongue. His eyes focusing on your lips before finally meeting your own eyes again. You could smell the pheromones pumping off him, making the air around you smell absolutely enticing against better judgment.  

“You were out for almost 8 hours, we need to get you taken care of.” You swallowed, unsure of exactly what he meant by that. 8 hours? And Shoto wasn’t here yet? “Are you hungry?” His voice once again dropped down to that raspy level, and you couldn’t help but let out a small squeak like a mouse caught in a trap.

For some reason, unbeknownst to you, your omega shuddered and not in fear.

#bnha omegaverse #alpha dabi #omega reader #bnha #mha #mha omegaverse #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x reader #crispy

[aizawaorkuroo]

A Burnt Offering

Ship: Dabi x f!reader

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: Your long lost childhood friend sends you letters. And then everything falls apart. Or perhaps together? Otherwise known as “Dabi wants you. And Dabi gets what he wants.”

Warnings: dubcon, non-consensual voyeurism, stalking, manipulation, spitting, dacryphilia, size kink, overstimulation, creampie, cock warming, unprotected sex

A/N: Spoilers for ch. 290 kinda!!! Don’t think too hard about how they’re childhood friends. Not going to be canon compliant cause i make the rules uwu,, also this is a little darker than what I’ve written in the past, (but still pretty soft all things considered) so please read the warnings!!!

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“Dreamed of peach trees. Dreamed, again, of drowning. Dreamed of highways becoming rivers. Dreamed of me, my long hair in flames, my body no longer a body, but a burnt offering, strange smoke rising up to meet him” - Nicola Maye Goldberg

.

.

.

The first letter you received was a little out of the ordinary, but nothing special. It had been left under your doormat, sticking out ever so slightly. You had brushed it off, assuming they had gotten the address wrong, or meant to send it to the person who lived in your apartment before you.

The right thing would’ve been to leave it there, or throw it away. But curiosity is a fickle beast, choosing to rear its head at strange times.

You furrow your brows, eyes scanning the words hastily scratched onto the paper. It felt familiar, but nothing truly stuck with you. You couldn’t think too hard about it, now when you had so much to get done.

It was a random occurrence, one that slipped your mind as you went about your day, the letter sitting on your kitchen counter.

hey,

we haven’t talked in a while. i miss you i guess. i swear to god i sometimes still feel your hand in mine and sometimes i think of your smile. maybe I’ll see you soon.

It’s left unsigned, and you can’t help but to feel bad that it got sent to you. But there’s no return address, nothing to hint at where it’s supposed to go. So it sits on your counter, slipping out of your mind in the following weeks.  

The second letter sends a small shiver down your spine.

“you will be alone always and then you will die.” i can’t remember who told me that, but it rings around my head. there are days where it feels like it’s true, like time will catch up with me and I’ll be gone. but it’s not true. because I used to have you. but I’ll have you again.

Your eyes gloss over the words, a small frown slipping onto your face. Something melancholic sinks into you, making a home in your chest.

“You will be alone always and then you will die,” you whisper to yourself, fingers grazing over the sloppy letters. You feel guilty that the writer’s thoughts are stuck with you instead of this person they so desperately miss.

Yet there’s something unyielding about the last line, something so definite. Curiosity fills you, and you can’t help but to want to get the letter to where it’s supposed to be. But like the first letter, there’s no return address, no signature, nothing outside of the longing in the letter.

So it sits on the counter with the first, the weight of the words lingering in your chest until it too is forgotten.

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You’re sitting on a hill, watching as the stars plummet down. Someone’s sitting next to you, but when you turn to face him, he stays blurry as if he exists on the edges of reality, unable to be fully perceived.

You watch as a rainbow of flames overtake him and recede, further obscuring him. But the flames continue to cycle in and out, a constant ebb and flow. You know who he is.

He flickers, you cannot touch him. You place your hand on the flames. Nothing burns. When you look up again, the hill is gone. You're sitting in inky darkness, watching as the stars continue to fall all around you. And the boy is gone too. In his place is something of shadow and smoke, two gleaming blue eyes tearing into you. You freeze, unable to do anything but stare.

It stalks towards you slowly, grinning to show rows of sharp teeth. You know what it wants, you can feel the need across the space in between you too. And so close your eyes and tilt your neck, offering yourself up. And you don’t scream when it takes the first bite.

“I’m always on your side.”

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding. You’re awake now, but you feel like the stars are still falling around you and him - right.

Touya.

His name blossoms in your head, memories of laughter and secrets told underneath the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Your head's pounding, and you run to the bathroom, splashing water on your face. That night, the last night you had seen him, when you watched the stars streak across the sky.

“I’m always on your side.”

A promise that withered into something shallow after he disappeared.

You blink at your reflection, fists curled into themselves so tightly it hurts. You wish Touya could hold your hand now.

You don’t go back to sleep.

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The third letter makes you frown a little. Three makes a pattern.

Really wish you would say something back. Has it been that long? Guess that’s to be expected.

You scan the page, melancholic thoughts lingering until you read the last line. Your eyes widen, heart leaping in your throat, as you read it over and over again. Your hands are shaking, mind cloudy, breath short.

Really, say something back y/n.

Your name, clear as day. They know your name. You’re the recipient. You blink blankly as a line from the previous letter pops into your brain. I’ll have you again.

The letter sits untouched on the counter for days before you finally build up the courage to tentatively write back. Who is this?

As you shakily write, it dawns on you how stupid this is. You should be going to the police, or getting a security system. But you can’t help but wonder who it is, and the fickle beast inside of you rears its head.

You tentatively place the response under the doormat, and scurry back inside, as if the action would burn you. The next morning the note is gone.

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It takes a few days for you to get a response. When you get home from work, you’re tempted to walk right past it, pretending to not see it. You could just let it slip from your mind, go on with your life as if nothing has changed. But nothing can ever be simple, and with shaking hands, you steal the letter before locking yourself inside.

I can imagine how scared you must be. I bet you’d look so cute. Part of me wants to make you guess. But I’d rather speed this up. It’s me. Y’know. Touya.

“Touya,” you whisper. It’s heavy on your lips. “Touya.” Your throat is raw. “Touya, Touya, Touya.” Your chest burns. Tufts of red hair, memories of childhood and shooting stars.

Brain pulsing in overdrive, you try to reconcile what you know to be true and what is being told to you.

1. Touya was your best friend.

This one is a fact. You remembered holding his hand, running around the estate. He would be battered, bruises and burns littering his skin. Right. His father. You shiver thinking about the man.

2. Touya disappeared as a child.

Another fact. You remember his mom’s tear-stained face as she turned you away, and when you were back home, safe in bed, you cried so hard you thought you’d never stop shaking.

3. Touya is still alive.

The first in your list that is debatable. No one’s seen him for years. It’s fully possible something horrible could have happened to him. But there’s no evidence he’s dead. If you can reason that Touya is still alive, then it’s possible…

4. Touya is sending you letters. 

The most difficult conclusion of all. If Touya is alive, it could be possible he’s sending you letters. But there’s no way to guarantee it is him. It could be some stranger, some pervert pretending to be your sweet redhead from childhood. You would have to test him.

Your response is careful, calculated as you try to navigate your emotions. Your hands shake as you write the final line, a question.

What was the last thing we did?

A small frown slips onto your face. It’s kind of a lame question, and yet it’s the best you can do. But it’s a baseline, a place to start.

His response comes almost immediately.

We watched a meteor shower. Go ahead. Dig deeper.

You chew on your lip while thinking. “Touya” is off to a good start, but there’s still no guarantee. So you push farther

Where did we hide the bowl I accidentally broke?

C’mon, it was a vase, not a bowl. We buried it along the fenceline. Good try.

You smile at the memory, the way you had cried over the broken porcelain, embarrassment coursing through you. Touya had helped you hide the evidence, telling you no one would find out.

What did you promise me?

I’m always on your side.

You inhale sharply, eyes glued to his messy scrawl. That’s it. It has to be him. You’ve never told that to anyone before. You squeeze your eyes shut, but you can see stars falling all around you. You feel a little light headed.

How did you find me?

Pure chance. I missed you, y/n. Does your face scrunch up when you get mad still? It was so fucking cute.

Shut the fuck up, Touya.

You don’t know how he’s done it, but Touya has inserted himself back into your life, whisking you off your feet with his stupid jokes and laid back attitude. And everyone in a while he’ll say something, that has you burying your face into your pillow, face warm and stomach in knots.

I’m going to hold you, and never let you go.

Would you let me kiss you? Would you let me sink my teeth into you? I bet you would.

I’d kiss you until you melt.

That one in particular made your chest burn, full of something warm and sappy. You read it over and over again, until the words are branded in your brain.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table at 2 am when you realize, you would. You would let him kiss you, let him sweep you off your feet. It occurs to you that you don’t know what he looks like anymore, but his words reach into you, stirring everything around to the point that you’re completely enamored anyways.

A sharp knock draws you from your thoughts. You narrow your eyes, glancing at the clock. Hesitantly, you approach your front door. You hover right in front of it, debating on whether or not to open it again. There’s a chance that no one’s even there anymore.

A second forceful knock makes your stomach flip. Taking a deep breath, you crack the door open.

Your eyes widen, and you're deafened by the blood pumping through you. Patchwork skin, pitch-black hair; you feel yourself begin to panic. 

Dabi. You recognized him from the Fukuoka fight that was on TV. You slam the door shut before he has a chance to say anything.

“No, no, no. Don’t do this to me y/n.” His voice is muffled by the door, but the separation doesn’t hide the way his voice barely cracks. You feel sick, brain cloudy as the room spins around you.

“How do you know my name?” you choke out, stomach growing nauseous.

“I thought we already did this… but you can’t recognize me either.” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, wracking your brain for what he could be talking about.

“After all those letters.” 

Oh.

Oh.

Your stomach drops, and your heart does with it. Dabi is Touya. Touya is Dabi. You tremble against the door, flashes of red hair and childhood innocence ghosting through your mind. You should’ve paid more attention to how he found you.

“Open the door.” Touya’s voice- no Dabi’s voice? You shake your head at the confusion, finding it difficult to reconcile the two versions of him you know. Regardless, his voice is even now, something sharp lingering beneath the soft surface.

You shut your eyes, letting your head rest against the door; it’s all too much for you. You can practically feel the tears stinging the back of your eyes. Maybe he’ll go away, maybe you don’t have to have a breakdown in the middle of the night.

“Open up for me, Y/N.”

You blink your eyes open, something cold slipping down your spine. He’s not going away. He could burn the door down if he wanted to. You know what he does now, and you feel so fucking stupid. The fact that he’s asking is an unexpected kindness. Summoning all the willpower you have, you open the door, hand grasping the handle to avoid shaking.

Dabi’s head tilts to the side as his eyes meet yours, and a sharp grin pulls at his lips.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” Your eyes dip to the floor, and you stumble to the side, closing the door as he brushes past you.

You awkwardly stand in front of him, fingers messing with the hem of your shirt as you try to control your breathing. Your stomachs in your throat as Dabi circles you. He is not the boy you knew. There’s an edge to him, a coldness radiating off of him that rolls into you.

“Now you can’t even look at me,” he sneers. Your gaze tilts up to meet him, trembling his words. Your heart lurches as you take in his appearance again. The puckered flesh, the staples, the jet black hair. It’s all too much.

But his eyes.

His eyes are the same, the same vivid blue that haunts your dreams. It hurts looking at him now, but it also hurts remembering what he was.

Hesitantly, you reach out to cup his face. He tenses under your touch, eyes flashing in warning. You swallow past the lump in your throat, forcing out a small “hi.” Your voice cracks under the weight of emotions, but his eyes soften, and he ever so gently tilts his head into your hand. And that’s enough.

A steady stream of tears leak from your eyes; you’re not completely sure why you’re crying, the emotions too jumbled, too complex to pinpoint a specific reason. Your thumb brushes over the marred skin under his eyes, and you feel sick. Like everything that’s wrong with the world has reared its ugly head in your apartment. But it hasn’t. It’s Touya. 

“Awww. Baby girl’s crying for me, huh?” he teases, making you narrow your eyes. He moves quickly, pulling you against him before you can step away. “Still the same crybaby from before.” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to ignore the way your head’s spinning.

“What else am I supposed to do?” you bite back, letting your head rest against him. “I missed you.” He scoffs at that, hands sliding down to grip your waist.

Your breath stutters, and you squirm in his hold, unsure what to think. His grip tightens, making you wince. You pull your head back to look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. Touya leans in close, eyes glued to you.

“Glad you missed me,” he mutters, and the borderline painful grip switches to something softer as he massages your flesh. “I missed you too, Y/N.” His voice rumbles through you softly, making your stomach flip. His tongue darts out of his mouth to flash across your cheek, licking the salty trail your tears left behind.

“Touya, what the fuck?”

You jerk away from him, sputtering as he throws his head back in laughter. Your skin feels too hot, and you struggle to put together a thought. You wiggle out of his grasp, wiping your face, and glaring at him.

“C’mon. Don’t be like that,” he laughs, obviously not taking this seriously. But you just shake your head, trying to squash all of your feelings.

“What do you want?” Your voice bends under the stress, and you face screws up, trying to stop the pathetic flow of tears.

“To see you,” he murmurs, eyes softer than before. The feelings behind the phrase are normally enough to make you giggle and your eyes turn into hearts. 

But this is Touya, or Dabi, or some bizarre amalgamation of the two. And you know what he’s done now. You know the price he’s paid. He is not the same.

“That’s not an answer. You shouldn’t be here,” you bite at him. All traces of warmth leave Dabi’s face, and your stomach drops. Something cold and sharp glints in his eyes, threatening to cut you if you get too close. You take a tiny step back, but he simply follows.

“Don’t be like this, Y/N.” His voice is tense, a warning of who he is now, what he’s done, what he could do to you. He cocks his head to the side, eyes trailing over you, gauging your reaction. He’s not the same. You know he’s not the same. His patchwork skin is proof of that enough.

It’s not fair. Echoes of childish giggles and burning blue eyes dance across your thoughts. But what he had done to all those people…You shut your eyes, crossing your arms as if you could hold yourself together.

“Well, what am I supposed to think? You were gone, for so long. And then you sent those fucking letters, and all I could think of was seeing you again. But you’re…” you trail off, but the unsaid hangs heavy in the air.

“Broken,” he hisses out, cold eyes narrowed at you as he gestures to his body. You glare right back at him, tears still flowing.

“It has nothing to do with that,” you manage to force out. “I just- I just don't know who you are.” Dabi’s face twists up into something bitter and forceful, a hurricane that’ll sweep you into something dangerous, you just know it. He is not the same.

“I wrote you those letters, Y/N. I’m still me.” But you don’t know who that is. Not anymore. He abruptly steps forward, forcing you against the wall, eyes wide in panic. He’s too close to your face, too warm, too overwhelming. 

You missed him so much, and it hurts. It hurts to see what happened, how he had to put himself back together, a dull mosaic that’s missing pieces. He reaches out to brush his thumb over your cheekbone.

“I’m always on your side.”

If it had been anyone else but Touya, you would’ve scoffed and kicked them out. But he knows you. He knows how you think, he knows what’ll make you respond. 

After all, he’s been watching you, making sure he knows how to say that’ll make you bend to his will. Touya wants you, his sweet best friend, to be his forever. So he knows what to say.

And something in you finally gives in, and you wrap arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He slips his arms around your waist, holding you flush against him.

Your knees wobble, legs failing you as you melt to the ground. Touya follows you down, arms circling around you tighter as he smiles into your hair.

Fuck the league. Fuck his family. Fuck a normal life. Fuck, the whole world can burn down. He doesn’t give a fuck. But maybe, just maybe if there’s anyone out there listening, just let him have this. Just this once.

“That’s my baby girl,” he murmurs against you, pulling you into his lap. He kicks out his legs behind you, bending his knees to force snug against him. If he were a better man, he’d be content with this, having you on his side.

But Touya is not a good man. He’s greedy for more, and all he can think about is the heat radiating from your cunt.

His hands splay out against your back, gently rubbing you as you sniffle against him. But he can’t help it when his hands start to travel further down. You sound so cute and desperate, it ignites something within him. He squeezes the flesh of your ass, making you freeze against him. You lean away, lips trembling as your eyebrows draw together.

“Touya, what are you doing?” You sound pathetic to your own ears, and you hate it. But you’re not given any time to dwell on it when he leans forward, lips a few mere centimeters from yours. He rocks you gently against him, watching the conflict in your eyes.

“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning to peck the corner of your lips. “I’m always on your side. Let me make you feel good.”

You stay stiff against him, hands slowly tangling into his hair as he litters the side of your neck with sloppy kisses. One of his hands pushing its way down your little shorts making you gasp. You can feel his erection growing beneath you, and you bite your lip, trying to make a decision to stop him or not.

“Touya,” you ask, “are you sure?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” You’re not 100% sure if this is the right decision, but he feels so good against you. And he’s handsome, scars and all. The intense warmth from earlier slipping into something more comforting, enveloping you as you rock against his hand ever so slightly.

So you don’t stop him. He would never hurt you, right? And it's been a while since you’ve gotten laid. Touya’s made sure of that. So you let him continue his exploration, melting against him as he gently rubs at your clit.

Touya watches your face, memorizing the expressions you make as he slips a finger into your hot cunt. To be clear, he’s seen your face when you’ve creamed around your little fingers on your own, unaware that he was stroking his cock outside your window. But you look so much better, happier even, when it’s his fingers you’re grinding into.

He nips at your neck, before pulling his fingers out of your shorts. He pushes you off of his lap, rolling his eyes at the way you pout.

“Calm down, baby girl. Wanna taste you.”

“Wait!” you warn. Touya freezes, eyes flicking up to yours, taking you in curiously. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” you stutter out, nervous at the look in his eyes. You can’t help but to feel embarrassed, laying on the floor of your apartment sputtering with your childhood best friend turned villain nestled against the apex of your thighs. Anything that can restore an ember of normalcy to the situation would make you feel better at this point.

Touya rests his head against your thigh, warmth returned to his eyes. He smiles at you a little too widely, too sharply. He resembles a predator, something stalking alone at night. Something you shouldn’t have let inside. He’s going to eat you alive. And maybe you’re okay with it.

“Alright, little girl. Lead the way.”

An awkward, hot tension surrounds you as you scrabble off the floor, grabbing his hand as you pull him towards the bedroom. Your thumb brushes over the staples, heart twisting at the feeling.

But the melancholic sting is forgotten once he’s leaving sharp little bites on your thighs, your clothes and his jacket tossed to a forgotten corner of your bedroom. His breath is hot against your exposed skin, goosebumps following his path to your hot cunt.

You’re nervous, still unsure of your current predicament. But Touya pinches your thigh, bringing your attention back to him as he watches as your thighs tense around him. His eyes meet yours, confident and sure of his place between your legs, and all of your uncertainty vanishes, consumed by the want and desire that fills you.

His eyes meet yours, clear and sharp, and he brings his hands to your pussy, thumbs pulling your folds open. His gaze drops, focused on your cunt, watching the way you clench around nothing. You squirm, embarrassed at the intensity of his stare.

“So wet already,” he mumbles, before his tongue swipes along your slit. You let out a small gasp, slamming your hand to your mouth in a lame attempt to gag yourself. Touya narrows his eyes, as he laps away, tongue flicking up to tease your clit, circling it but never touching the sensitive bud. You whine into your hand, trying to keep your hips still as he takes his time.

“Drop that hand.” The rumble of his voice travels through you, making you shiver. “Drop it, and I’ll touch this cute little clit.” Looking at him nervously, your hand falls tentatively, hovering above his hair, unsure if it’s okay to ground yourself there. Touya rolls his eyes, before pushing your hand down.

His tongue swipes at your clit making your hips jolt. He lets out a snort before repeating the action. Your grip in his hair is light, not wanting to hurt him; but your self-control goes out the door the second his lips make a seal around your clit.

He sucks at the throbbing bud, eyes lighting up at the way you buck against him, moaning loudly. Your fingers tangle into his hair, keeping him snug against your cunt. He slips a finger into your sopping hole, practically melting at how warm and wet it is. He needs to be inside you. Soon.

“Touya,” you moan, rocking in an attempt to increase the friction. He curls his finger inside of you, mouth still focused on your engorged bud. Your grip in his hair tightens, the pleasure that’s been simmering building rapidly.

“Gonna cum!” you squeal in warning. He doesn’t slow down, eyes trained on your face as your jaw drops, a choked noise clawing out of your throat. You tense around him, muscles quivering at the intensity of your orgasm. You whine and buck against him, and he lets you ride at your orgasm.

When his ministrations borderline into pain, you weakly push his head away, trying to catch your breath. He lets you pull away, eyes glimmering cruelly.

“That was fast.”

You whine in response, moving your hands to cover your face. Touya hisses, surging forward to yank your hands above your head. You wince as he squeezes, eyes narrowing on your face.

“Don’t hide what’s mine.” His lips pull back into a lazy grin as his eyes trail over your body, landing on your glistening cunt. “Gonna fuck you so good,” he mutters, mostly to himself. You blink stupidly at him when he lets you go, processing the fact that he’s kicked off his pants and taking his cock out.

Your eyes widen when you see the shiny piercings that gleam on his cock. It excites you, making your cunt clench around nothing. And yet your stomach drops when you finally realize that he’s bigger than you thought he would be. You bite your lip, trying to tame the swarm of nerves that take over the excitement.

“Touya, I think I need-” he cuts you off with a sloppy kiss. Your hips cant when you feel the head of his cock sliding along the lips of your pussy, his piercings tapping at your clit nicely. You’re not sure if you’re ready for him, and it simultaneously excites and terrifies you. But he leans on you, keeping you still with his body weight.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Open up for me,” he murmurs. And then next thing you know his lips are on yours, but you can’t help but to let out a cry against him when he thrusts his cock into you, bottoming out. He’s red hot inside of you, and tears prickle the corners of your eyes, leaking out as your nails dig into his back.

“So warm,” he murmurs, before pulling his hips back and thrusting into you. You cry out at the harsh stretch, tears falling down your cheeks as his piercings pull at your walls. He seems to like that though, and he brings a hand up to your cheek, thumb stroking the salty liquid. “You’re pretty when you cry.” He punctuates the sentence with a particularly harsh thrust, sending more tears down your face. “Attagirl,” he coos, looking absolutely enamored with your blubbering face.

“Touya, please,” you whine, not exactly sure what you’re asking for. But Touya seems to know, a sharp grin spreading wide on his face.

“Awww, does my baby girl wanna feel good too?” You nod, face twisted as you babble away.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll take good care of you.” He kisses you again messily, before slipping a hand in between your bodies to play with your exhausted clit. He massages the swollen bud, sighing as you start to gush around him. “Is that better?” You nod and whine, hands twisting in his hair to hold him against you.

Touya can’t help but chuckle, and he presses another kiss into your neck before sucking on the skin there. His thrusts are gentler now, appreciating the snug warmth that surrounds his cock. If he could stay buried in the heat of your cunt forever, he would.

He’s drawn from his thoughts when you tug at his shirt, wanting it gone. He stills against you, tensing. You look up at him with a pout, eyes begging him to take it off.

“Please,” you whine. “I wanna feel you.” His mouth opens, and you can already hear the annoying quip that lies on the tip of his tongue, so you push forward, hands tangled into his shirt. “I wanna feel all of you.” He pauses, head tilting to the side as you watch the gears turn behind his eyes.

“Please.” Your voice is soft, as you try to avoid squirming around his dick. Something seems to click in his mind because he draws back, pulling his shirt off. Your eyes wander across the expanse of stapled skin, the puckered burns, making your heart squeeze. But there’s nothing you can say, nothing you can change. So you reach out to him, beckoning him into your arms.

He falls forward, barely supporting himself, letting his body cover yours. You wrap your arms and legs around him holding him close as he begins to lightly thrust again.

“You feel so good,” you cry out panting against his face. Touya angles his head to face you, eyes boring into yours as his breaths mix with yours. It’s too hot, too much, but you can’t move away, overwhelmed by the sensations and entranced by his eyes.

Touya’s hips increase in pace, rutting violently against yours, the sharp sting of his skin against yours making you whine. Each thrust into you, steals your breath away, your hands digging into his back.

“Ever since I found you again, I needed to have you, needed you back. I wasn’t going to let myself lose you again,” he growls. You whimper as you gush around him, finding that you want him to stay buried in your pussy forever.

“Stick out your tongue,” he barks out. His eyes flash, and you do as he says, all while letting out little gasps as he thrusts into you. He hovers above you, a cruel grin spread out on his face. You watch as he spits onto your tongue, a shudder going down your spine. He reaches out to grip your open jaw harshly.

“Swallow.” When he lets go you do exactly that, cunt squeezing tightly. “Oh you like that?” he laughs as you nod. He hums before kissing you sloppily.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re gonna do what I say from now on. I’ll make you feel so fucking good.”

You should be alarmed by the promise of obedience, but you feel too good to care right now.

“Mine, mine, mine.”

It crosses your mind to tell him that you don’t belong to him, but all you can do is nod and hold him closer.

“Wanted to be inside this pussy the moment I saw you. You’re never gonna want another cock than mine.” At this point, all you can do is whine and nod, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you again, baby girl. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll take care of you.” Your nails scratch down his back, making him hiss, as your hips rut against him.

“Touya,” you cry out, tears leaking from your eyes so sweetly. “Gonna cum again.” He nods, lips brushing against yours.

“Wanna feel you cream around me, baby girl.” You nod blankly, drunk on the feeling of his cock pounding into you, piercings pulling so nicely at your gummy walls.

Propping himself up with one arm, he slips his hand in between your bodies, fingers playing with your clit again. It’s enough to send you over the edge, and you cry out, writing against him as your pussy gushes around his cock, squeezing him tightly.

He chokes against you, and your pulsating cunt launches him into his own orgasm. Touya’s hips jerk against you as his cum paints the inside of your cunt. He collapses against you as you twitch in a post-orgasmic haze. He nips at your neck, alternating the sharp stings with sweet kisses.

“You did so good, baby. So good to me. I’ll take care of you. I promise,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shiver. You’re still panting, sweeping your hands over his back, before they land in his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. He shuts his eyes, enjoying the sensations and the warmth, letting himself get lost in you, if only for a little bit.

But when he pushes himself off of you, pulling his hips away, you whine. Your legs lock around him, keeping him lodged inside you. He barks out a laugh before flopping down on his side, pulling you against him.

“I’ll stay right here. Don’t worry.”

“Touya…” you murmur, gently. He sends you a questioning gaze, waiting. You lean forward, pressing your lips against his, trying to convey the complexity of what you’re feeling. He responds aggressively, as if you might disappear. But it makes you melt. Maybe he was right about that.

 When you draw back, his thumb strokes at leftover tears on your cheek.

“It’s okay, You’re mine now.” It’s not exactly what you wanted to hear, but it’s all you get from him because he pulls you tight against him, eyes shutting in exhaustion.

You curl up against him, feeling his breathing even out. His cock feels heavy inside of you, and something cold sits in your stomach.

You shouldn’t have done that. He’s not okay. You really shouldn’t have done that. But you would deal with that in the morning.

For now, Touya is yours, and you’ll enjoy the warmth of his skin and the way the stars fall when you shut your eyes.✨

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #Dabi x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroko smut #bnha smut #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha x you #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki x y/n #bnha x y/n #💫.dabi #🌌.non-con voyeurism #🌌.dubcon #🌌.stalking #🌌.manipulation #🌌.spitting #🌌.dacryphilia #🌌.size kink #🌌.overstimulation #🌌.creampie #🌌.cockwarming #tw dubcon #tw manipulation #tw stalking

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 27: Home

"He's got to be somewhere!" Harry all but shouted at the bloody incompetent people milling uselessly around him. What was the point of all of these people if they couldn't even do their jobs?

"Sir," one of the junior aurors said, "We're doing the best we can, but-"

"Do better,” he exploded.

Ron gripped his forearm and led him off to the side of the room. "Listen to me," his best friend said, "I know that you are worried and I know that you are chomping at the bit for us to figure this out, but we cannot work any faster."

"We have to," Harry said. "We have to work faster because every moment that we spend in here, is another moment that he is out there with that psychopath and I don't have to tell you how vicious Marcus is."

The horrific images of the bodies they'd found a few days ago flashed to the front of his mind but instead of being the strangers bodies naked and covered in cuts and bruises, it was Draco's body. The well-loved, all but worshiped body of the man that Harry was desperately in love with. And Draco didn't even know, he'd never even told him. He shook his head, biting back the urge to vomit, trying to keep the panic to a dull roar. "We have to find him."

"I know," Ron murmured, putting a warm, steady hand on his shoulder. "I know and we are doing everything, we have everyone on this. The moment anyone finds anything they'll let-"

"Sir!" Darcy called, dashing into the room, "I think we've got him."

(Read more below the cut)

"Give me the coordinates," Harry said, reaching for the paper in her hands.

"You can't just go in there," Ron protested, trying to snatch the paper away from Harry, "we need a plan of attack, we need to figure out how to coordinate our people."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "You're in charge of that and you can meet me there. I'm sure I'll need the back up."

"Harry, don't-"

But it was too late, obviously, as if Ron could have ever expected him to stay, as if there was anything on this earth that could have kept him from Draco.

Harry wasn't especially good with blind apparation, but he knew the instant he arrived that this was definitely the spot. The air around him when he landed felt tainted and dark, sparking with evil that touched the depth of Harry's soul and set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. A cabin sat just at the other side of the clearing, smoke rising from the chimney.

Casting a silent spell that would show any hidden wards and traps, Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak, enlarged it to it's normal size, covered himself, and set off across the clearing, deftly avoiding any of the places that quivered gold from his magic.

His heart hammered against his ribs, so loud that he feared it would give him away the moment he got into the house. He crept to the window and peered inside, Draco sat slumped in a chair near the fire place. His long blond hair was dirty and Harry got the sickening feeling that some of the darkness was where blood had dried. Bruises and abrasions mottled his pale skin, covering his face and neck, and undoubtedly places that Harry couldn't see.

The only relief was that he was obviously still breathing, labored though it appeared to be.

Marcus was no where in sight.

He cast several spells that Bill had taught him one summer when he was considering becoming a curse breaker and the ward fell apart around the window, leaving him a space to crawl through.

No sooner was he through the window when that tickle of awareness prickled up his spine, he spun and cast, "Expelliarmus," before he'd even fully realized why. A wand clattered to the ground and he cast, "Petrificus Totalus, incacerous," in rapid succession and Marcus hit the ground wrapped in ropes. Harry yanked his cloak off and glared at the man on the floor, "Give me one reason," he growled at Marcus, "One reason and I will fucking end you."

When the man made no attempt to move, he rushed over to Draco, "Draco," he murmured, "Draco," he repeated, carefully brushing his fingers over the other man's swollen, bruised cheek.

His silver eyes flickered open and he flinched away from Harry's hand.

"Oh, love," he managed, his throat tight around the words. "I'm here, you're safe."

Draco's eyes widened when he realized it was Harry, a tear slipping down his cheek.

"Okay," he breathed, "We have to get out of-" he began but the door behind him was blasted open and he cast a hasty "protego" preparing to fight off whomever had just come barreling through.

"I cannot fucking believe you," Ron hissed as he stomped in.

"Is the perimeter cleared?" Harry asked as he turned back to Draco, far more at ease now that Ron was there guarding his back.

"No it is not," Ron replied. "I broke a million protocols to get here while everyone else is working their way in-"

Harry stopped listening as he took the gag off of Draco. "Are you alright?"

Draco nodded weakly, "I'll be fine," he assured him.

He untied him quickly and efficiently and then helped him to stand before pulling him into his arms.

"Harry," the other man gasped, "We shouldn't. Everyone can see-"

"Let them," he whispered, tears stinging the back of his eyes as he held the other man, "Godric, Draco," he rasped, "I was so bloody worried about you."

He pulled back minutely and cupped the other man's cheek, brushing a finger over his bruised cheekbone. "He hurt you," he said, "We need to get you to St. Mungo's, get you checked out."

"It's superficial," he said, shaking his head, "I can heal them myself. Just," he swallowed, "Can we go home?"

"Ron?" Harry called.

"Yeah?" the other man replied.

Harry turned his head, but kept Draco in his arms, "I'm leaving. I'll owl you with a report of what happened prior to the team's arrival."

"Harry," Ron said, lowering his voice and stepping closer, "You're going to be in a lot of hot water about this."

"I don't care," Harry said.

"I mean all of it, going rogue, coming here without any plan, without back up, leaving now will be the least of your worries."

"You're right," Harry replied. "But I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. What are they going to do? Fire me?" He rolled his eyes, "They'd be doing me a favor."

Ron shook his head, "Go on, then."

"Thanks," Harry said, nodding once at Ron before he turned to Draco, "Ready?" he asked, "I'm going to apparate us."

Draco nodded and Harry focused on Draco's living room, even though his own sofa and fireplace beckoned him, before he apparated them out of there.

When they landed, Draco looked around, looking a bit crestfallen, "This is my flat," he said.

"Yeah, you said home?" Harry replied. "Oh, did you mean the Manor? I can take you there-" Harry started even as it made his heart ache, he knew he wouldn't be welcome to stay there.

"No," the other man interrupted, shaking his head for emphasis and wincing a bit at the motion, "I was rather hoping we might go to your home?" he asked uncertainly. "I feel safer there," he added, a little hitch in his voice.

"Yes," Harry said. "Yes," he managed again because his heart was racing and soaring all at once and he wasn't sure what else he could possibly say.

He apparated them into his home and stroked Draco's hair back from his face, "You're sure we shouldn't go to St. Mungos?"

Draco nodded, "I'll be fine. I've left a kit here with some potions and such since you're always injuring yourself," he added with a pained smile. "I'm just going to use the restroom so I have a mirror."

Harry nodded, "I'll light the fire. Are you hungry?"

"A bit."

"I'll heat up some stew," Harry said, "I could make a batch of the biscuits you like?"

Draco nodded, "That would be nice."

"Draco," Harry called once the other man started limping to the bathroom.

"Yes?"

Harry crossed the distance between them, cupped his face and gently, so very gently, pressed his lips to Draco's.

Draco pulled back, "I'm covered in blood."

"I don't care," Harry whispered, brushing his lips over Draco's once more. "Call me if you need help, yes?"

He nodded and started toward the bathroom.

After starting the fire and making them food, Harry went to get a pair of sweatpants (the grey ones that Draco always stole when he stayed over for breakfast) and a tshirt (one from when Harry was training to be an auror that was worn and faded, Draco always borrowed it when they went out flying) and wandered to the bathroom. He knocked once before opening the door to find Draco sitting on the closed toilet lid with his head in his hands.

"Oh," Harry murmured, moving to kneel at Draco's feet.

"Sorry," the other man said, wiping at his eyes, "Circe I'm sorry, every time I look at myself in the mirror I lose it."

"Okay," Harry murmured, "It's okay. Let me help."

"I fixed my rib already," Draco said, "Episkey ought to do the trick for the rest."

With as much care as he could muster, Harry tenderly healed all of the wounds on Draco's body. He was covered in gashes, and scrapes, and bruises and Harry ached with all of the words that stuck in his throat, with everything that had remained so desperately unsaid.

After he finished healing him, Harry drew the other man a bath and filled it with the lilac soap that always left Draco smiling and pressing his nose to Harry's skin to smell it. Draco reached out a hand for the flannel but Harry whispered, "Let me?" and the other man nodded.

He cleaned his body of all of the dirt, the grime, the blood; washing every inch of him until there was no trace of the horror the other man had endured. Then he moved to his hair; he carefully washed, conditioned, and detangled his hair before helping the other man out and drying him with equal care and diligence, and helping him into the clothes he'd brought in.

"Sit for a minute?" he asked, gesturing to the toilet seat and the other man obliged him without a word. He carefully brushed his hair and then braided it the way Draco so often did before bed, starting at the crown of his head and drawing in section after section, braiding all the way down to the middle of his back.

"All done," he whispered when he finished, pressing a kiss to the top of Draco's head.

"Thank you," the other man murmured, reaching back to cover Harry's hand where it rested on his shoulder.

And all of the things that had been scratching at Harry's throat, trying to claw their way out at once and stuck there now, "I'm so sorry," he managed, "Godric, Draco, I'm sorry." Tears welled up, prickly and hot at the back of his eyes.

"Hey," Draco said softly, clearly recognizing that Harry was about to break. He turned so he was facing Harry and grabbed his hand, "This isn't your fault."

Harry shook his head, "It's always my fault. Everyone that I love-" he broke off abruptly realizing what he'd just confessed.

"You," Draco started, brows furrowing, "You love me?"

He nodded miserably, "And I should have told you before now. You're going to think it's just the trauma, but Draco I should have told you every day for the past year," he added. "All I could think today was that I was going to be too late and I'd never be able to tell you how I really feel. Because I am completely gone on you Draco Malfoy and I wanted you to know."

A smile tugged at the corner of the other man's lips, "I love you, too, Harry Potter."

"Yeah?" he whispered.

Draco nodded.

"Will you stay? Here?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Draco replied.

"But like, forever?" he asked.

"I'd like nothing better," Draco affirmed, smiling as he leaned up and pressed a kiss to Harry's lips.

Harry kissed him back for a long moment, letting the kiss assure him that Draco was going to be okay, that he was here with him, and he wasn't going anywhere. He rested his forehead against Draco's and said, "I still have so many things I need to say."

"They'll keep," Draco replied, stroking a finger lightly over Harry's cheek. "Let's just have dinner and then I really just need you to take me to bed and hold me."

And if they held each other a little tighter than usual that night, there was no one to know but the two of them.

----------------

Ah!!! Please go and look at the gorgeous art that @pato-roldnart drew for this ficlet. It’s stunning and heart wrenching and I’m so overwhelmed by how amazing it is!! You’re seriously spoiling me!

Day 26: Broken Bone | Day 28: Shopping

Thank you, @atticus-bluejay for the prompt! I hope you enjoyed it!

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #drarry ficlet #drarry drabble #hurt/comfort #bamf harry #auror harry #happy ending #Harry saves the day #boys in love

[tennessoui]

33 obikin 🙏

bless i can't write anything straightforward or normal to save my life

33. Celebrity/Fan AU (modern AU, singer Obi-Wan)(1.8k)

Obi-Wan had only wanted to cook, really.

He’d decided on Tuesday night that he would take Friday off as a sort of self-care day. He needed it. In the midst of a world tour, finally with a week to breathe back in his home city, he’d wanted to relax for a day. One day without music or an audience of any kind, just him in an apartment filled mostly with dusty counters and almost expired foods.

He loves his fans, because of course he loves his fans. He loves the fact that people relate to what he writes enough to listen to his albums, although he has gone through several different sounds over the course of his career. He loves that he can be 39 and still touring the world, even though he started his career as a 13-year-old-child-actor turned teen-pop-sensation turned serious musician turned perhaps-washed-up-serious-musician turned very-much-serious-musician-actually-this-time.

If not for his fans, he wouldn’t be able to afford this house on the outskirts of his town. He wouldn’t be able to boast his performances in three-fourths of the world’s major cities. He wouldn’t be able to continue to have a career. No. He loves his fans.

It’s just that sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he just wants peace and quiet, a moment to himself, where he can float away without concerning himself with the flow of the setlist, the timing of the encore, the lyrics and rhythms of songs he wrote a decade ago when he was practically a different person.

It’s just such a shame that Obi-Wan leaves the handle of the wooden spoon too close to the stove’s open flame when he stirs and adjusts the heat to low for an hour so he can go soak off his stress in the bath.

It’s just such a shame that the smoke alarms from the kitchen cannot be heard over the music he’s playing in the master bath.

Obi-Wan sinks beneath the water, enjoying the unyielding pressure. He doesn’t want to retire, he tells himself. He has so many more songs to write. Sure, he hasn’t written an actual good song in two years and people are starting to notice. Sure, the intense scrutiny is driving him up the wall and killing anything creative that he’s ever harbored in his soul. Sure, his muscles and bones ache and he had almost had a breakdown the other day when he first walked through the door of his home and couldn’t remember if there was a bathroom on the first floor, but.

But he doesn’t want to retire yet. He just has to admit he’s waning, even to himself. Whatever inspiration he had has been used up or otherwise escaped. All he has now to his name are songs that have already been sung.

He doesn’t know how long he spends in the bath, really. Long enough that the album changes twice. Long enough that his fingers prune up and his eyes grow lax. Long enough that he tells himself that no matter how soothing the lavender essence is, it would be very dangerous for him to fall asleep in the bath because the news articles alone would be enough to raise him from the dead only to strike him down again.

(Long enough for the wooden spoon’s handle next to the pot to catch on fire. Long enough for that fire to burn down to the oil on the spoon itself. Long enough for the dishtowel it was resting on to ignite as well.)

The smoke alarm clues in before Obi-Wan does.

Luckily, Obi-Wan had paid extra for a smoke alarm that, when registering a certain threshold of smoke, sends a notification to the closest fire department.

Luckily, this all happens while Obi-Wan is unaware, but before he becomes in peril.

He actually remains unaware of the whole thing right up until the moment a fully-suited firefighter kicks through the door of his bathroom.

That’s when he jerks up, very unceremoniously. “Fucking Chr--what?” he shouts, raising a hand to cover his exposed chest for reasons unknown.

“Obi--??” the masked firefighter starts to say, in something akin to shock, but like Obi-Wan is going to give ground here and now. He’s cornered the market on shock on this occasion, thanks much.

“What the--”

“Your house is on fire!” the man yells over him, looking around the bathroom wildly until he sees a fluffy off-white bathrobe hanging by a hook near the door. He throws it at Obi-Wan, who just catches it before it can get wet.

“My house is what?” Obi-Wan splutters, standing automatically to put on the piece of clothing. The helmet of the firefighter turns away to give him privacy. Despite himself, he finds it rather endearing. He ties the belt around his waist tightly, stepping out of the tub.

As soon as he’s out of the water, the other man swoops him up and over his shoulder. Obi-Wan lets out a scream which he’ll probably be absolutely mortified about later.

But now, what’s more distressing is the way his body is responding to the hold he’s been placed in. He’s thirty-nine years old. He’s definitely too old for this. He should definitely know better than to be even slight aroused by such a display of...strength and stalwartness and--

The man walks him out of the bathroom and the very first thing he notices is the heat that hits his skin. “Oh!” he whimpers and then yells wordlessly in absolute panic as he realizes what this heat must mean. His house is on fire. Actual fire. Actually on fire. There’s a fireman here. Because his house is on fire.

He’s only a little ashamed to admit that there’s a fair amount of thrashing that happens immediately upon this realization.

Enough so, in fact, that the firefighter transfers him from over his shoulder to cradled in his arms, so as to hold tightly against the movement of his limbs. “Stop--moving!” the man says irritably. Obi-Wan wants to tell him to work on his bedside manner, seeing as how his house is on fire, but he doesn’t have time before they descend the stairs and he can see the actual flames.

The stairs themselves are fine, which makes sense. Hot air rises. The dining room, parlor, and entryway look like they’re absolutely covered in fire though, so really his fireman was just in time to save him.

The smoke is acrid against the back of his throat, and Obi-Wan buries his face against the textured shoulder of his rescuer's uniform just so he doesn’t have to look or breathe the air, although he feels the smoke already working its way through his lungs. Well. That might just be his imagination.

They’re out of the house in a matter of seconds, and Obi-Wan’s eyes water immediately at the difference in air quality.

The man who’s been carrying him sets him down gently on the lip of the fire truck, far enough away from the house that he’s not in any danger--though most of the place is fine still--but close enough that someone can keep an eye on him. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t remembered to grab his phone. That phone was very important. Hopefully the other firefighters will be able to stop the fire before it reaches his bathroom.

His firefighter seems intent on hovering close to him, even as there's a fire raging in the background. Obi-Wan supposes that there's around five firefighters on his property, including the one in front of him. The other four should probably be able to handle it, whether or not the fifth decides to join in or stay hovering around Obi-Wan like he's a sickly orphan.

“Are you okay?” An earnest voice asks him from under the helmet.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to say he’s fine, that at most he just feels like an idiot for being stranded outside in his bathrobe as a group of public service officials fight a fire he certainly, most likely, probably caused.

But he starts to cough instead, and his firefighter steps forward immediately, placing one hand on his back and the other on his chest, both beneath his robe. He hopes the man can't feel his shiver. That would be even more mortifying than his current situation.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Obi-Wan wheezes after the coughs have passed. The helmet the man is wearing only shows a quarter of his face, but he looks awfully boyish. “Aren’t you a little young to be a firefighter?”

“Deep breaths, please,” the man (boy?) tells him, which isn’t a proper response. “There’s an ambulance already on the way--it’s protocol, sir--but yes, I’m trained in emergency medical response.”

“A man of many talents,” Obi-Wan says dazedly, rubbing a hand against his chest where it aches as he watches a few men run around his house with a house. “And here all I can do is sing.”

“Hopefully you still can, sir,” his firefighter responds. “Only I’ve got tickets for your show in two days, and my little sister has been excited for weeks over this.”

Obi-Wan laughs despite himself. He’s sure it sounds at least a little bit hysterical. “Would you like me to dedicate a song for you? The man who saved my life?”

Even the helmet can't hide the nice shade of red his firefighter blushes at those words.

“What’s your name?” Obi-Wan asks, smoothing down his still-damp hair. It feels important to know his name. It feels just as important to look his best, given the circumstances.

The firefighter ducks his head and takes off his helmet. Obi-Wan wonders if the man should be going back to work, or if he’s been assigned victim duty. Either way, Obi-Wan isn’t going to complain, definitely not after his firefighter shakes out his hair and turns to face him with a sheepish grin stretching across a handsome face. “‘M Anakin,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan is awfully aware that he’s dressed only in his bathrobe in front of a very pretty firefighter who seems to know who he is--who seems to have tickets for his upcoming show. “Call me Obi-Wan,” he tells him, already trying to remember his manager’s phone number so that he can bump Anakin and his sister’s tickets up to the VIP section. It’s the least he can do, after all. Anakin had just saved his life.

“Wish it was under better circumstances,” Anakin says with a shy sort of twist of his mouth. Obi-Wan gets the impression that it isn’t just his little sister that’s been excited for his concert. An impression that is solidified quickly as Anakin tacks on, “I’m a huge fan of your work.”

Obi-Wan laughs incredulously at this, at the entire situation, at the man in front of him, at the fact that some part of his brain has started composing a song the second his firefighter had smiled at him in his bathrobe with his tired face and wet hair, kitchen burning his house down because he’d forgotten basic fire-safety rules in favor of his own self-care soak.

“Well,” he says, patting his firefighter’s knee, “I don’t have to tell you that I’m a huge fan of your work as well.”

#later anakin gives obi-wan such a huge earfull about proper fire safety in the kitchen #never leave something unattended for more than like five minutes >:( #but also later obi-wan writes an entire album full of fire related songs and or songs about burning #only some of them would call to mind mustafar and theyre all anakins least favorite ones because they're sad break up songs #and anakins like >:0 every time he hears one of those in public #tries to contain the urge to be like 'my husband LOVES ME BTW and this song is A FICTIONAL WORK not based on ANY actual EVENTS #we're SO happy together and if he were here I'd MAKE OUT WITH HIM RN' just in case any gossip rags got any ideas from the new albm #ahsoka refuses to go out in public now with him just in case #so does obi-wan #asks #my fics #obikin #prompt fill

[suicidalslasher]

forever & always. ➤ tom. h.

Happy Valentine’s Day~!!! I couldn’t contain myself and or stop myself from writing about my favorite Valentine’s day killer. So, here you go :)

WARNING: descriptions of gore and blood. in this one-shot, the reader’s pronouns are she&her.  i might make a part two of this, depending on how well it does. maybe not. i like how it ends, regardless. either way. enjoy.

The news spread like wildfire. No matter which way you went, there was always a flame, reaching out towards those to burn. Try as you may, you can't get away. The words that littered the air was nothing more than burnt ashes fluttering around, burning each object as it flies above said thing or said person. In this case, the people of a small town called Valentine Bluffs were the ones burning from the inside and out. They felt trapped within the smoke, unable to seek out which way to escape the dangers that had followed.   The terror; the trauma; the panic and anxiety attacks; All of it - they thought it was long gone.... they were finally going back to being normal, how things used to be. 

They were going back to a life that wasn't full of fear, having to look behind your shoulder constantly and being careful of who you trust. It was all going to be okay, happy once more. They'd finally be able to celebrate their favorite day once again.  But... as you may have guessed, it's not quite  easy to put out a rapid wildfire. All it takes is a small fire to expand out into something bigger, bolder, and scarier. You can't escape the flames. No matter how big or small. You cannot ignore the overwhelming burning sensation that  glazes across your skin as the fire around you grows larger, making you feel smaller and smaller by the second.  The words, however, the statement that was fluttering around like specks of ash,  wasn't at all a sentence (nor an actual fire)  but a name - Harry Warden.  1997. Valentine's day. Everybody, in & out of town, knows what happened.  For a brief period of time there, nobody celebrated Valentine's day, having thought it out to be cursed.  Yet, as time went on, there was no sign of Harry Warden. No copy cat killer version of him, neither. So, the people went back to celebrating. Writing hand written love letters,  buying cheaply made cards at the local supermarket, buying and or receiving overly priced chocolates. Anything, everything, people did it with  love in their hearts and a smile on their face.  Today was Valentine's Day, once more. Expect it wasn't the way it had been for the past 9 years. It was exactly like the day in 1997. History was repeating itself.  Instead of love, presents, and reserved dinner dates being celebrated and shared, the town of Valentine Bluffs  got decomposed, rotting corpses,  instead. Blood scattered outside and inside of buildings. 

  It was worse than before, more bodies were showing up without their hearts and the missing body piece would be found neatly placed in between a plastic heart shaped box. All of which would be sent to the police station as a joke, as  a threat.  Even a card would be taped on top or under the container, though the sentences were far from cheerful and loveable.  A few of them had been thrown aside, only having been read once. Those who opened it and read it aloud usually found themselves cringing in dismay  as they read the paragraph out loud all while  shifting around in their seat, uncomfortably.  

Once they read it, they shook their heads as tears welled up in their eyes before they threw it into the trash bin or ripped it into hundreds of tiny pieces, not daring to open another letter that's brought in. Evidence or not, the workers couldn't keep their breakfast or lunch down when they'd read the cards.  The recent two cards had said;  From the heart comes a warning, filled with bloody good cheer, remember what happened as the 14th draws near!  And the last victim, a girl named Maryanne Anderson, had gotten a card right before she was found dead, her body laying in a ditch to rot.  Her card had read; Roses are red, violets are blue, one is dead, and so are you.  Nobody knew who the new killer was, or if it even was a new killer, copying Harry's schemes and following in his footsteps.  It could have very well been  the same man all those years ago. That's what they were saying.   (Y/N) (L/N) was in her car, driving back home from work when her favorite song had been replaced with an alarm, cutting off her favorite part. "Oh, c'mon!" She groaned, hands hitting the steering wheel in annoyance  before she goes to turn up the volume anyways, wondering what's so important that the town and the police station had to turn off her favorite song. 

She knew about the murders, she knew there was a serial killer around, she already knew this already. And yes, she was petrified, as most people were. When the first body showed up, the mayor of town announced there'd be a curfew until they found out who is doing all of this. Whether it was one person or more, they'd find a way to capture the killer. No matter what. There was not going to be another murder.

 (Of course, there was more.) 

 (The original curfew was getting home at 9:30. Now, it had gone down and you'd have to be indoors, at your house, by 6:30 PM.)  Students in school would get out earlier, as well as the adults in town. The only ones who didn't get to go home so early in the day were those who were trying to protect the people of Valentine Bluffs.  "We are sorry to interrupt that song there," came the  radio host's deep and groggy voice. "However, this is more important than your favorite throwback jams. I've gotten an officer here with me, he had just shown up not even a second ago to tell us more news on the situation we are currently in. So, please, listen carefully."  "Yeah, whatever. I already know what's going on. Tell me something I don't know." (Y/N)  turns off the radio as she pulls up in her driveway, feeling a sense of comfort clouding over her, another day, she's okay; safe and sound, unlike a few of her old high school friends that were gutted like fish and butchered like pigs. 

She shivers at both the bitter and harsh wind brushing against her  as she steps out of her vehicle and the obvious visual of whatever masked man (or men) that's around, killing innocent people for whatever given reason.  Hurrying along the steps to her porch, she digs her keys out of her jacket pocket, finding them within seconds before she's pushing them into the door as quickly as she could. She didn't show it, tried not to show it, but she was as anxious and paranoid as everyone else was. 

(Y/N) was  trying to hold back her fear but the moment she gets home, locking all the doors and windows, the uneasy feelings creep up on her and every negative emotion takes charge.     With a sigh, she falls down onto the couch with a plop, reaching for the remote, she turns on the TV, attempting to try and get her mind off of things.  Of course, every station wasn't what she wanted to watch, the news replacing every channel.  She skipped and skipped but it all remained the exact same. With a groan, she decides to listen to what they were saying, even though she really didn't want to hear it as it'd only make her anxiety worse.  "I am Jonathan Godfrey. We're sorry to interrupt your daily scheduled programs, however, a man you may know as Tom Hanniger has escaped from his stay from a mental hospital."  (Y/N)'s eyes nearly budge out of her head at the mention of the man's name,  the remote she had in the palm of her hand goes flying, falling down onto the ground by her feet. Tom? Mental hospital? It didn't make any sense! Everyone... including her, thought he was dead! She, with shaky fingers, grabs the remote to turn the volume up.   Jonathan's own eyes were wide as he read the teleprompter, his voice now grew shaky as he spoke. Fear was written across both his and his co-worker’s face. "Unfortunately, we don't have any more information or news as to where he's escaped off to. Or where he may be as of the moment. All the reports, every last piece of information we have been received  has said he's been missing since two days ago.  He can be anywhere.  More importantly, he can be here, hiding out." His voice trembled as he spoke, it was also very faint - almost ghostly. Quiet as a mouse. His skin was pale, making it appear as if he was a ghost rather than a living person that sat in the chair there.  

 Jonathan couldn't continue, this much was obvious, therefore his co-host, Abigail Miller, continued where he had left off.    "This being said, please, lock the doors and windows of your home. If you have a weapon to guard your own life and protect your ground, get it out now. Please, protect yourself the very best you can. And do not, I repeat, do not answer the door. Do not leave your home whatsoever. Whatever is outside of your house is surely not more important than your life.  

“Whether it is Tom that has been doing this or not, we're not exactly sure. All we tell you is to be careful and remain indoors until we can find Tom and or find the Valentine's killer. This has been Jonathan Godfrey and Abigail Miller, with the news. Stay safe and God bless." The program that was previously playing showed up finally, the neon colors swirling together to form the title of the show, along with a fairly way too cheerful theme song playing faintly in the distance as the introduction played out. (Y/N) had never heard of it before, but from a quick glance, it appeared to be a sitcom from the late 70's.  The only source of light was coming from the television screen, casting colorful shadows across (Y/N)'s face. She had felt too tired to have turned on the lights upon entering her house. Work was short, the hours having grown thinner because of the curfew, however, it was still tiring all the same.  She instantly regretted not doing so now, however. 

She sat in the dark, her heart thumping loudly against her chest as she pulled a near by blanket around her shoulders as if the thick fabric would comfort her and protect her. The room had gotten colder ever since the report was announced. Goosebumps ran up and down (Y/N)'s body, the baby hairs on her neck stood on end as a shiver slid up and down her spine. Despite the blanket being around her body, she felt nothing but cold, numb. Suddenly, the TV went out with a soft 'ping'.    (Y/N) gasped and her heart stopped beating all together.  She felt like she couldn't breathe, she couldn't tell if she was going crazy either when she heard what sounded like  footsteps coming down from the hallway. She sat, frozen, on her couch, unable to move, unable to breathe.  Then.... a knock. Followed by another and another. It was right outside, coming from not the front entrance but the back yard. "(Y/N)? (Y/N), please..." came the voice.  ​​​​​​​And (Y/N) recognized that voice anywhere.  She knows she shouldn't.... everybody said not to but... she couldn't help herself.  Getting up as quickly as she could, she runs down the hallway, the sounds of her feet echoing against the thin walls as she reaches the door, tugging it open.   There, on the other half of the door, stood nobody other than Tom Hanniger himself.   He looked up, surprised she had answered the door.  Giving her a weak, lopsided smile,  Tom's pulling her into a tight hug, his head falling down in the crook between her shoulder and neck, tears flooding his eyes as he soaks her shirt, silently weeping. "(Y/N).... fuck, I've missed you so much, missed you so bad." Tom confesses with a sniffle.  "Tom... I- what're you doing here? They're looking for you, you know this, right? Everybody's looking for you. And.... and I- fuck, Tom! I thought you were dead. Everybody in town thought you died the day your father did." (Y/N) didn't hesitate to hide her true feelings. She was a mixture of emotions. Angry, happy, sad, scared - she was feeling every single emotion there possibly was. "I know... I know. I-I have a lot to explain and a lot to tell you but please, right now, can we just- can we just play pretend?" He asked, moving away from her shoulder as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater, his eyes remained watery and his skin was flushed as he looked up at (Y/N).  (Y/N) guessed it was a mixture of three things - running away from the mental hospital to where her house was to  the bitter and harsh February air. Plus, the crying he had just done, too. His face was red and blotchy from all three. Despite it being so cold, sweat trickled his face, a few drips of it falling along side his cheeks. "Play pretend?" (Y/N) echoed, tilting her head to the side, unsure of what he meant.  "Let's play pretend." He repeated, licking his lips. "Let's play pretend and imagine none of this horrid, crazed shit is going on right now. Let's pretend it's only me and you. It's Valentine's day, isn't it? Let's celebrate. After all, it was one of our favorite days to spend together."  Heat rose to (Y/N)'s cheeks and she bit on her bottom lip, rocking back and forth on the bottom of her feet.  "Tom.... I-I'm...You want-" She couldn't from sentences, her thoughts were mushing together and it was all too much for her to handle. She felt like she was going to pass out. "I want you, (Y/N). I want you as bad as I did then and I want you just as badly right  now. There has never been a day where I wasn't thinking about you. You were the love of my life. I still love you, maybe even more, now. Let's celebrate, please. We can talk about everything tomorrow morning. I promise I'll tell you everything.  Right now, let's play pretend, let's act like it's just us again, like when we were teens.... I've missed you. And.... and I know you've missed me too or else you wouldn't have opened the door." And, yeah, okay, he was right.  "Tom..."  "(Y/N)." He stepped closer to her, closer than he had done before, as he rests his hand against her cheek, fingers brushing against her skin as he looked into her (E/C) eyes.  "I love you. I never stopped. And I know you love me, too.... so, please, baby girl.... can I just show you how much I love you?" (Y/N) shouldn't have answered the door. She should have called the cops when she heard his voice. Everything was too much of a  coincidence. 

Her power was working perfectly fine until Tom had shown up. 

Now that she was thinking about it.... 

There was also no victims until she had heard the news Tom had left the asylum. Three days ago.... 

Three days ago, there was the first victim; Maryanne.  If she thought too much about it, got too deep into the rabbit hole, she would have assumed Tom Hanniger was the Valentine's killer - The Miner.  Yet... looking at Tom, she knew he wasn't - couldn't - be the killer. If he was, he would've killed her too, right? Tom Hanniger's been through too much, and just like she was there before, she was going to be there for him now. Through Hell and back.  

She would stay by his side, no matter what. She still kept the old promise ring he had given her in high school, along with the note in which he confessed his feelings. In which, he told her - one day - he'd marry her. She was the perfect girl for him, as he was the perfect man for her.  A promise is a promise. When she said 'forever and always', she meant that. (Y/N) knew Tom meant it, too.  "I love you too."   Tom's quick to place his lips on (Y/N)'s and (Y/N) is quick to kiss him back just as hungry, just as fierce. She tangles  her fingers through her hair and pulls on it, earning a groan from Tom. Satisfied with the result, she tugs him into her house by the sleeve of his shirt, slamming the door shut with her foot. 

"I've missed you, baby." He says, not daring to pull away from the kiss.

"Show me how much you've missed me then, baby." She mumbles against his lips. "Oh, I'm going to."  "Let's go celebrate Valentine's day the right way then. Come on, let's go upstairs."   Tom grins and  (Y/N) smiles back before she's pulling him up the stairs and into her bedroom. 

Forever and Always. It was them until the end. Nobody would ever separate the two of them, again.... not even Harry Warden was going to destroy Tom’s happiness... not this time.

#Tom Hanniger x reader #Tom Hanniger x Y/N #slasher imagines #slasher one shots #slasher x reader #Jensen Ackles x Y/N #My Bloody Valentine #Jensen Ackles x reader #Slasher fanfictions #Jensen Ackles fanfictions #Jensen Ackles imagines #Tom Hanniger imagines #Jensen Ackles one shots #my works #Tom Hanniger one shots #Tom Hanniger fanfictions #Harry Warden x reader #Harry Warden x Y/N #cierra's stories

[seancekitsch]

Out of the Rain: a Marko x Reader fic

Warnings: bloodplay goes without saying bc vamp, rough sex, dirty talk, semi public sex, telepathy?? me projecting my music taste on this fic again. drug use, fast and loose use of vampire lore bc when i write i am god and u cannot stop me. also can u tell i have like…. v clear descriptions of the setting like i used to work at the place im describing but its not in california

No one had come in for hours. What's the point of staying open? You dim some of the lights in the store, which is one of three head shops in Santa Carla, but the only one open late. You're not really sure why this is the only store that stays open, why everyone else if worried about the three am walk back to their car on a weekend night. You've never seen anything of suspicion, just sometimes that biker gang watches people shuffle out. That was almost comforting, though. People didn't like those guys, so no one would make you use your switchblade if they were around.

The bright while fluorescent lights of your typical daytime ambiance faded away, and now green light bathes you in the “mood” lighting your boss thought was a good idea. The green lighting reflects off of the glass counters, shining it back at the ceiling and making everything that much more green. It fits, you think with the overall vibe of the store. The stale scent of weed, gently and miserably covered up by some nag champa incense, always burning in at least four different spots within the store. You'd long since gotten used to the smoke in your eyes. The music does everything to add to the ambiance. You always have full control of the music in the shop, usually because no one else is willing to take the night shift in Santa Carla. In fact, most of the boardwalk shops had a revolving door of night shift workers. You never got why, something clearly spooks them that does not spook you. Whether that makes you brave or stupid, you dont know. Jefferson Airplane’s Surrealistic Pillow pumps through the speakers in the store. But I suppose no one knows, you're my plastic fantastic lover.

The rain batters the boardwalk outside, a roar much different than the typical hustle and bustle of drunk teens, of the cliques and crews that come in and out; the few that sit and snicker in the doorway, never entering. Some too afraid to be associated with the implication of being spotted in the shop. We sell jewelry and vinyl too, you always say, when they balk at the idea of being in the same room as a bong or incense.

But then there's the other group that stands and idles in the threshold, also not entering. It's that biker gang. Four guys, a girl, a kid. Maybe he’s the brat of the girl and the one who takes himself too seriously, but maybe not. She looks too young for that. They'd been hovering around quite a bit lately, always after dark. You’d spoken to them, at least the ones that are talkative. The hair metal wannabe and the cute short one. Paul and Marko. You knew the dark haired one was Dwayne, but all he ever offered you was a curt nod and a tight lipped smile, respectful but indifferent. They're nice, not worth the spooky reputation they have. Any time it's not just you at the shop, your boss tries to spook them away. Good thing your boss isn't here tonight, because one of them is prowling around the storefront in the rain. That is, if it's not your spliff induced haze playing tricks on you.

No, one of them is out there. Without his little pack. The cute one. Marko.

You walk over to the door, which you haven't had propped open since the rain trickled in as a drizzle at the beginning of your shift. At least he had enough sense to be huddling under the awning. Fuck, he’s handsome even when he looks like a drowned rat.

“What are you doing out here?” You scrunch up your nose as you ask.

“Y’know, waiting for you to show up.” Wanted a look at that cute ass.

You blink at him. Did he really just say that?

“Okay… well, you know it's raining out there, right?”

“I might,” he offers noncommittally, eyeing the spliff still in the hand that's not holding the door. If it were anyone but him, you'd probably get fired for it.

Why is he just hanging around out here? That's hella weird. His curls are getting matted to his forehead, slick with rain, his jacket starting to look a little sad.

“C’mon in, Marko. It’s too wet out here. You’ll fuck up your jacket.” You nod towards the interior of the shop holding the door open as he passes you.

Wrong move, sweet cheeks.

“What did you say?” What did he mean, wrong move?

“I didn't say anything,” he offers nonchalantly as he thumbs at one of the tapestries on the wall. A garish mess that’s supposed to be the worm from Alice in Wonderland, but it’s distorted by a botched tie dye job of dark muddy colors. Every time you look at it, you assume one of the day workers did it.

“No, you said something.”

“Do you want me to say something?” there's both a threat and an innuendo in his tone. Maybe you do, but you just laugh, a sharp exhale through your nose, and bring the spliff to your lips again as he follows you deeper into the store.

You jump up onto the counter next to the ash tray, easy reach for each time you need to ash.

“So why are you really here?” your eyes narrow at him, kicking your sandal off on the floor where it lands a few inches from his boots. He looks uneasy in the space, like for all the wild shit you assume he’s into, he might not actually belong in it. He sways a little to the music, perfectly in tune with the rhythm. You sway along too, and suddenly he fills the space like he belongs. He just needed someone along for the ride with him.

“Do you ever come around during the day, or just at night because I’m so fun?” You’re teasing him, but it’s a nice easy feeling between you.

“Not really a sun guy,” bullshit, he would look beautiful with a tan, “but I do drag everyone here just to see you.”

“Awww, all for me? Do you have a crush, Marko?”

It’s more than that. You hear the words clearly, but his smile doesn’t move. You kick the other sandal off.

“I can hear you, I don’t know how, but I can. I bet you can hear me too.”

I can. You’re wrong about the tan thing.

You straighten up, mind clearing as you blurt out your next question. Something absolutely stupid.

“So what are you, a vampire or something?” he laughs at you, but his big toothy smile doesn't reach his eyes. No, there's something predatory, extremely dark in his eyes. Otherworldly.

How could you guess?  

“Well, that for one big fucking clue.” You ash the spliff for the final time, leaving the roach in the tray. You would think you’d be more surprised, more upset that you just found out vampires were real, and that you were in the same room as one. You have to say, weirder things are probably afoot in Santa Carla. Murder capital of the world can’t all be from some rowdy teens and a ten year old.

“You do those surf nazis?” is all that leaves your mouth. You kind of hope it was. They were the fucking worst. Racist, misogynistic, destructive. You’d had to threaten them a few times to leave your store on your shift.

“The—? Oh! Surf nazis. Yeah that was us. Ate a few of them.”

“Good for you. I mean— murder. bad. But they were nazis, and now they’re dead. so…” you trail off. Not really sure what to say next, but then you keep going. Remember everything you know about Marko.

“No, no I mean, it makes sense. Right? You and the guys only hang around at night. Aren’t vampires solitary hunters though? I don’t remember Dracula being in a frat.”

“They’re my pack. We take care of each other.” He says it with such fondness and devotion.

You feel a pang of jealousy run through you. You work alone for the most part, live alone, you’ve got friends but they’re all over the place. He belongs to something.

“And you're down with this?” he’s legitimately asking. You nod. You don't really have a choice, you're down or you get eaten, but like genuinely you are down with it. If he was going to eat you, he probably would have by now. There's probably a reason they've been hanging around the store, and in your sightline while you close up. You're putting things together.

“Like really?”

“Well, you haven't made me a kebab yet.”

He shrugs, frowns.

“Could still skewer you on something.”

Laughter erupts from your lips while you roll your eyes, music to Marko’s ears. This is why he took a shine to you, it's easy to get along with you, and you're not one of his brothers.

Something heavy falls in the room, and it's not the haze of the incense. He steps towards you, big blue eyes raking over your body, but always coming back to meet your gaze. He closes the space between you, easily fitting between your thighs; the rough patches of his jacket brushing against your bare skin where your shorts ride up. He leans in, like he's about to kiss you, and against all better judgement, you're going to let him.

You're going to let him.

The record skips. He holds out his hand, more like a gentleman than a biker gang killer, and helps you off the counter.

“Hold on, let me pick out a new record,” you turn without waiting for his confirmation, not at all surprised when Marko follows hot on your heels to the back room. Your boss’ office, the record room. Whatever you wanted to call it. His hands ghost over your arms as you push past the wooden bead curtain to enter the room. You can feel his presence close enough to touch. That's it, right where I want you. There’s his voice again.

He lets you actually pick out a new record. You slide it out of the sleeve and walk it over to the player. The static buzzes and pops as the needle finds the groove.

“Ocean Rain, you heard it?” No. He shakes his head, and you can feel it as he leans into your back.

“Echo and the Bunnymen. They've got a new album coming out this year.”

You turn to face him and his fingerless leather glove clad hands cover your cheeks.

He kisses you gently, tenderly. Not at all the way you’d expect. He’s eager, kissing like there’s something to prove. He licks his way into your mouth, tongue pushing your lips apart and you let him. His arms tighten around you as you kiss, tongues now greeting each other playfully. Your tongue explores his mouth, running along each and every tooth in his mouth. Huh, no fangs, you realize, and maybe he isn't actually a vampire. As if he reads your mind (maybe he does), he pulls away.

“They're, uh, hiding,’ he nods, almost to himself more than you. You nod as well, slow and uneasy, not quite believing him, but he pulls you back into a harsh kiss, more of what you expected. His hands roam your body as yours bury themselves in his curls. Still damp, but long and beautiful just as well. He shrugs the jacket off his shoulders, and his hands only briefly leave you to throw it and his gloves somewhere else, leaving him just in a thin white tank top. His mouth leaves yours to trail lower, kissing your neck. Your pulse point. Fucking irresistable. No, that's definitely his voice. Is this the end? Could be.

“I can smell you, hot stuff,” he moans into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You find yourself gripping onto his shoulders a little tighter, but he lets you sink. He guides you, again more gently than you thought he would; bare knees brushing the threadbare carpet floor before you plant yourself. You look up at him through your lashes and he all but bites back a groan.

“You gonna join me down here?” You lick your lips, waiting for something.

“Nah, I’m gonna let you have a head start,” there's a joke in his tone. You're learning that’s normal for him. He’s silent, or playing jester. It’ll be interesting when you let him fuck you. Shit, did he hear that?

“Quit thinkin’ so loud!” he runs an affectionate hand through your hair. “But yes, I heard you. Glad you're as eager as I am.”

That's encouraging. You take your time undoing his belt, connected to faded and soft leather chaps, not bothering to push them down his thighs before you move to the top of his jeans, teasing your fingers at the skin just above the waistline. He shudders under your touch, extremely reactive. Does he get touched like this often? Or is it just quick fucks? You don't want to think about who else he might be doing this with, focusing again on his body, and all of the offending clothing covering it. You unbutton them slowly, teasing. For a member of the undead, he seems to be out of breath under your movements. The zipper is pulled down just as slowly. You run your palms flat along the bottom of his stomach, to his hips before pushing his jeans down to around his ankles, hooking his boxers on your finger along with them. He’s beautiful, and you can help but stare. Hard, eager, and thick, greeting you with a small trimmed patch of golden blonde curls. You wrap your hand around the base.

You never expected a vampire to whimper, but that's exactly what happens when your tongue darts out of your mouth to lick the head of his cock. Quick, tentative little lick, testing the waters. Your tongue swipes across the slit at the tip of his thick member and his hands animate like you flipped a switch, rising up, going to your hair, rising up again, slamming down against the desk. Your boss’ desk. You lick a long stripe to the underside of his cock, paying close attention to the prominent vein there.

“So good, so good, oh you feel so-” he pants out, hands white knuckling the edge of the desk. Heat pools in your core, loving that he’s so vocal. Fuck, if he could just keep speaking. Your other hand moves to your shorts, sloppily and hastily undoing them and wiggling them down to your knees. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock and sink down on it, taking him as far as you can, until you couch when he hits the back of your throat.

“You look fucking beautiful like that. Please move, Please move, you’re so fucking good at this.”

You do, starting to bob your head up and down on the length of him, hollowing out your cheeks and flattening your tongue against him, cupping and massaging his balls in your hand. Your free finds itself between your legs, rubbing gently at your clit, stirred and encouraged by his praise.

“Does sucking me off get you hot and bothered?” Yesitdoes.

You keep bobbing your head, rubbing your clit, eyes trained on his until his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches in your mouth.

“Don't wanna- don't wanna finish in your mouth,” he’s urgent, grabbing you by the chin and pulling your mouth off of his cock. He pushes you back by your shoulders, letting you guide yourself back to lay on the rug. He pulls your loose shorts easily off your legs and settles himself between your legs, too eager to bother with removing his boots and everything.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long. Do you know how bad I wanted this?”

“Fuck me, Marko, dont say it. Just do it,” youre breathless under him, wanting nothing more than for him to be fucking you. He pauses.

“I dunno…” his thumb swipes up along your clit, drawing a whine from your throat, “For some reason I think you like it when I say things.”

You nod, knowing words will fail you. And he gives you what you want, lining himself up and sinking into you, groaning as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“Oh I knew your pussy would feel like fucking heaven,” he pants against your neck, pressing a harsh kiss to the underside of your jaw. He sets the pace quickly, unmerciful and fast, fucking hard and deep into you. His hands push up your thin tee shirt, and you can feel his sigh of relief when he gets a handful of bare breast. He doesn't have to deal with a bra tonight. You hike your knees up, opening yourself as much as you can to him, wanting him to fill you to the brim. He looks into your eyes while he fucks you, which comes as a surprise to you. Maybe it shouldn't. You wonder what it would be like to be a victim of his. Does he treat them well? Have fun with them like this? Or is he vicious? You don't know if you could picture him like that… vamped out.

“What does it feel like?”

“What?” he thrusts sharply, snapping his hips into you, making you yelp.

“To be fed on, but not to die.”

Are you serious? You hear him in your head.

YesIam. He thrusts like that again, earning an identical yelp, now coupled with your thighs squeezing him around the middle. You're close already, and he can tell.

He nods, a question; You nod, confirmation.

He pulls at the neckline of your shirt, already scooping so it doesn’t ruin, and exposes your shoulder. Somewhere non lethal. His other hand comes up to grip your jaw, covering your neck but being careful not to squeeze it. You hope he bruises your jaw, you realize. A physical way to feel him when dawn comes. He slows his pace to a rocking, grinding into you, staying deep.

Then he bites. Stars erupt behind your eyes, and it feels like your blood has turned to seltzer. Every nerve in your body is in overdrive as you moan and shake and come undone around his cock. You're the kind of girl that comes from the bite of a vampire, apparently. He doesn’t let up. You can faintly hear him moaning against the open wound in your shoulder, and you hope you taste good to him. He licks the wound a few times more, softly, carefully, like he’s trying to soothe you when he finally lets you come down from your high.

When he pulls back to let you see him, his features are gruesome, full vampire with sharp brows and cheekbones, pointed nose even that much more so almost birdlike. Fangs and bottom half of his face covered in blood.Your blood.  He’s panting like an animal after the kill. But he doesn't scare you. Maybe he should, but he doesn't.  It's just Marko, no matter what, and if he wanted to eat you he would have. Several times now. His hand finally releases your jaw, to wipe the blood from his face. He wipes his hand then on your face, covering you in your own blood, hot on his fingers and palm.

“Fuckin sexy,” he pants, voice deeper and distorted. His thrusts speed up, trying to find his own release as your nails dig into his back, maybe making him bleed as well. You feel the rug burn forming on your back, you feel tears in your eyes. It's never felt this good with other guys.

When he comes, he comes with a howl, buried deep inside you as he shouts and shivers then stills above you. Your chest is heaving, trying to regain yourself as his face slowly fades to normal, and he slumps down on top of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, near the wound he tore open, now no longer bleeding. He mouths at any bare skin he can find, lazy half kisses as he spreads more mess and blood on you. Your fingers find his curls again, winding them around your digits as you stare up at the sickly green mood lighting bathing the walls of the room.

An hour later, Marko is helping you lock up early.

He makes sure to dump out all of the ashes from spliffs and incense, makes sure the vinyl is all in its right place while you make sure the register and inventory is all in its rightful place and order.

“You’re dangerous, you know.”

“Me?” you scoff, “That rich, coming from you.”

I’d do a lot of things I’m not supposed to for you. You kinda don't want to ask him what he means by that. For some reason that feels like a conversation you shouldn't have tonight. 

He leaves the store before you, holding the door open for you and letting you lock the doors. He slings an easy arm over your shoulder, not bothering to shield either of you from the rain as he steers you towards your car. You can feel the rain cleaning your face, the blood flowing away and saving you the shower you were going to take before collapsing into bed tonight.

“Where’s your bike?”

“I flew here,” he says with that devilish smile, and you're really not sure if he's joking or not. Your arm sneaks its way into his jacket and wraps around his waist, holding him close as he makes sure you get home same. Marko makes you feel calm, in a way you didn't feel before you moved to Santa Carla. How long had he been waiting to make his move? And does this mean he and his brothers would be coming around more often? Maybe being more friendly towards you. Each step towards your car feels heavy; You don't want to go home alone without him, but somehow you know he won't come with you. 

“Will I see you again?”

He grabs your car keys from your hand, and sticks them in the door handle. Of course you will.

Right. You just have to be near the beach at night. You know, where you work.

He kisses you full on the mouth, holding you close and tight, like you could slip away at any second. When he finally lets you go you pull away to be met with his face, full on grinning, his eyes still closed from the kiss. He doesn't look like a killer.

Marko watches you as you pull open the door to your car and more or less throw your ass into the seat.  He holds the door as he gives you one last smile, and says:

“You know, you should never invite a vampire into your life. Renders you powerless.”

And he winks. 

#marko lost boys x reader #lost boys x reader #marko lost boys #my work

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

Man Made of Stone: Chapter Ten

Previous

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Summary: “Carrillo was resigned to see you go, felt obliged to keep you safe, was unwilling to go any further than that.”

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/notes: smoking; language; alcohol consumption; Horacio’s arms are where home is, baby (did i make it make sense?); ummmm I think this is it folks. This is a really weird feeling and it’s making it really hard to hit the post button. Thank you all for going on this journey with me 💞

Word count: ~1500

You startled awake, head snapping up from Javier’s desk. Your breathing was ragged and cool sweat pooled at your temples. A piece of paper was stuck to your cheek and you peeled it away with a grimace. You didn’t even remember falling asleep, exhaustion apparently taking over. Murphy eyed you warily from his desk, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers.

“You okay?” he asked and you nodded, relaxing back into the chair with a deep breath. 

“Yeah, nightmare.” When the three of you had arrived at the embassy with your police escort, Javier had been whisked away for medical care and you had been left alone in the office while Murphy had an emergency meeting to discuss next steps. He and Javier would have to relocate, hide out until things cooled down. What did that mean for you? You nearly jumped out of your skin when the phone on Murphy’s desk rang.

“Yeah, we’re all good here,” Murphy said. “They’re taking care of Javi and we’ll need to lay low for a while, but we made it out. Tell me you got every one of those fuckers.” When he said that you looked up, realizing who he must have been talking to. There was a long moment of silence during which Murphy’s eyes locked briefly onto yours and he pushed back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk. “Yeah, she’s here.” More silence. You held your breath. 

“They’ll be moving me out in the morning,” Murphy said, leaning forward in his chair to reach his ashtray. “She can stay with me as long as--” his eyebrows lifted and he stopped speaking, Carrillo having cut him off. “That works too.” You watched as Murphy hung up the phone. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle, filling two glasses and placing one at the edge of his desk for you. 

“Looks like you’re going to Medellín,” he said.

You couldn’t stop fidgeting after the phone call. You had tried pressing Murphy for more information, but he had nothing to give, simply saying that Carrillo would be picking you up in a few hours. He wanted to keep you safe, and the only way to do that was to keep you with him--that had to be what he was thinking. But what if he was still upset with you? As far as Carrillo knew you were still intent upon leaving, and after what happened that day…weren’t you? Shouldn’t you? No one would blame you. 

 You slouched against Javier’s desk, your back to Murphy, a cigarette burning between your fingers, a long coil of ash at its tip. The nightmare played over in your head and your stomach pitched and roiled. 

“Would you think less of me?” You repeated the words to yourself in a soft whisper. You remembered Charlie’s face the first time he told you he’d been threatened and you asked him if he was afraid. 

“I would have thought less of you if you tried to tell me you weren’t afraid,” you mumbled to yourself. You felt that same terror now, running your hand over the skin under your chin and down the front of your neck. It was like an elephant sitting on your chest, crushing your heart and your lungs, making you gasp and claw in panic. It could happen again. It could happen to him. 

“Time to go,” Murphy said. 

Your heart was in your throat as you walked through the dark parking lot of the embassy. It felt like it was right behind the thinnest layer of skin, like its strings could only take one last tug before it burst from you, and that final tug came when you saw Carrillo step out of the police truck. Murphy and embassy security stood beside you as you waited for the gate to open, eyes glued to Carrillo where he stood on the other side, hands on his hips, speaking quietly to Trujillo.

“I’ve arranged for you to stay at CNP headquarters until things quiet down,” Carrillo said to you as the gate slid open. “When it’s safe my men will escort you to the airport and wait for you to board your flight.” His words could have rooted you to the spot and they almost did. Carrillo was resigned to see you go, felt obliged to keep you safe, was unwilling to go any further than that. But his tone was soft like it had been when the two of you were alone in Javier’s apartment, and that was what you focused on. You stepped forward and slid your arms through his, pressing your body firmly against his. You could feel Carrillo tense, his arms slow to wrap around you, but when they did his hands splayed wide across your back, pulling you as close as he could in his tight, blanketing embrace. Your fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt, felt his heat beneath, his heart beating with yours--you grounded yourself in his realness. 

“Colonel,” Trujillo said, his voice soft but insistent, “no estamos seguros aquí.” Carrillo pulled away, but his hands didn’t leave you. He nodded and helped you into the truck where the two of you sat side by side, and as it started to move he turned your hand over on his knee, running his thumb gently over the scraped, reddened skin of your palm. You took his hand in both of yours and rested your head on his shoulder.

“It’s not much but you’ll be safe here,” Carrillo said, standing in the doorway of a room with metal bunk beds and rolled up mattresses. It was the first time he’d spoken to you since you’d left Bogotá, having maintained his silence in the helicopter as well. He had a blanket and pillow in his arms. “Safer than you were with Peña, anyway.” 

“Javi didn’t do anything wrong,” you said, following him into the room.

“If he had just picked up the phone this all could have been avoided.” There was something in Carrillo’s voice, a hard edge that hadn’t been there before. You watched as he set up the bottom bunk, rolling out the mattress and tossing down the bedding. 

“You can’t blame Javi for that. We were fighting.” Carrillo stopped what he was doing and straightened up, looking at you.

“Fighting?” 

“I told him I was staying, he didn’t like that, we argued. I remember the phone ringing but we were right in the middle of it.” Carrillo sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. You stepped towards him, thinking that perhaps the last wall had fallen, but what he said next floored you:

“You should go.”

“What?” Carrillo was quiet for so long that the silence prompted you to say his name. It was a soft plea for him to see you, touch you, speak to you--all those things he was struggling with in that moment. 

“Are you trying to tell me you weren’t terrified today?” he asked. “Because if you had any doubts about leaving, that gun to your head should have put them to rest.”

“Of course I was terrified,” you said, “but I don’t get this, first you’re upset with me for leaving, now you’re telling me to go. Is there a third option I’m missing where everybody’s happy?” The emotions of the day piled behind your words and you couldn’t stop yourself, your voice rising. “You know, I think you misspoke the other day when you said you don’t have time for games: you meant to say you only have time for your own.”

“I’ve been selfish!” Carrillo snapped, getting to his feet. You stopped breathing then, your eyes wide. It was the first time he’d ever raised his voice around you, to you. It wasn’t in anger, no, it was in fear, and that surprised you even more. Carrillo’s eyebrows were turned up in the middle, his lips pinched tight. He turned his back to you, gripping a metal upright in one hand while the other rested on his hip, working to gather his composure. His voice was level when he spoke again: “I’m a danger to you. And if I had been a second too late...it wasn’t fair of me to pressure you. You have a way out, you should take it.” The silence in the room was heavy and you were exhausted. Exhausted from thinking, from feeling, from arguing. It was time to just be alive together.

“But I don’t,” you said finally, “not until things quiet down, right?” You walked over to Carrillo and spread your palms out over his back, feeling him relax beneath your touch. Slowly, you brought them around his sides, up over the curve of his stomach, coming to rest over his heart. Carrillo’s hands joined yours as you pressed your forehead into his back. 

“You saved my life,” you whispered. “Take me home, Horacio.” 

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#man made of stone #horacio carrillo x reader #colonel carrillo x reader #narcos fic #colonel carrillo #horacio carrillo #steve murphy #boyd holbrook #trujillo #jorge monterrosa #javier peña #pedro pascal #maurice compte