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bellawoso · 2 days

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love story

aitana bonmati x fem!reader

description: aitana falling for you despite you being quite nerdy when it comes to shakespeare and art. aitana is helplessly failing english lit, in order for you to tutor her she requests for you to come to her matches each weekend, you end up falling for her too.

(kinda unrealistic as i highly doubt aita would take english lit 😭) + ALSO DIEGO MAKES A RETURN!!!

at first the move to barcelona had been scary for you, the new language and culture were unknown territory for you, and you couldnt help but feel lonely with not many people to talk to you in english.

until at a party, you overestimated how much drink you could handle and ended up on the brink of passing out, only to be saved by a random spanish boy you had seen around campus and spoke english.

a new friendship stemmed that night, you and diego were inseparable, even though you owed him one two many times after he saved you from people cursing you out in spanish after you accidentally pissed them off.

that was exactly what had happened now.

you and diego also work at the same art museum, although he often complains about the boredom he experiences there, much to your annoyance. he still continued to work there, the pay is good and you are in your happy zone, excited to spend all of your free time surrounded by one of your favourite subjects.

except for times when you managed to irritate random spanish people. in your defence, the piece of work wasnt that good, and the artist wasnt well known, how were you to know that you were speaking to the artist claiming that there were better pieces that deserved a place in the museum.

the man had gone into a fast paced spanish rant, although you knew some spanish after some time of living in barcelona, you were no where near fluent enough to understand the heavily accented, rapid spanish that fell from his mouth.

diego was very quick to intervene and call security on the man who was now jabbing a finger in your direction, the only word you understood was “puta” after hearing the insult many times from diego to people that annoyed him.

seeing him escorted out, you were quick to flee to your favourite part of the museum, at the east wing of the top floor was a small library filled with copies of old literature, with historic renaissance paintings hanging on the walls.

not many people went in there, it was very well hidden from the public eye, and was out of the way of popular artist exhibitions. however, nothing was too hard to find for a certain brunette midfielder, who was bored out of her mind.

———

today was aitanas day off, when ona gathered her, jana, bruna, pina and patri for a “fun day out” a museum was the last thing she was expecting.

ona was actually enjoying looking around the museum, pina and patri were talking to a group of girls they found “hot”, jana and bruna were raiding the gift shop.

this left aitana bored out of her mind, so she went exploring and ended up on a corridoor that stretched to what looked like a library.

despite english literature being aitanas minor degree, she was actually not that fond of it, much to her parents dismay who had to hear constantly from aitana how she was failing it.

when she walked in, she physically jumped when she saw a girl sat on one of the seats reading some shakespeare play.

if there was one thing aitana despised the most, it was shakespeare, the prospect of learning the plays and writing about them made her want to gauge her eyes out.

she was ready to turn around and beg ona for them to go home, until a soft voice pulled aitana right back to the library.

“hello! can i help you?” upon hearing this, aitana quickly turned back around to match a face to the voice, and was met with you now looking up so she could see your face.

aitana didnt notice that she had zoned out while admiring you, normally she didnt feel this way for anyone. each time pina and patri tried to set her up on a date she was always quick to reject, as in her opinion she had to focus on football. however at this moment, she seemed happy enough to break the no relationships rule for you.

“sorry can i help you?” hearing you once again managed to break aitana from her daze, as she quickly tried to think of a topic that she could strike up a conversation with.

“uhhhh- you like shakespeare?” aitana asked, whilst internally cursing how her voice wobbled as she spoke to you.

“yeah i do! are you a fan of his works? what is your favourite play?”

honestly, aitana had no idea why she chose shakespeare, in fact, she despised the guy who she had to memorise a ton of plays for. however, seeing your entire face light up at the sound of his name could persuade her to talk about him all day.

what aitana hadnt vouched for was you quizzing her on him, i mean, she was failing english lit for gods sake. but if she could just act like she was an expert for long enough for you to be impressed enough to accept her request of a date with you, then it would give her enough time for some quick shakespeare revision before your date.

“i love shakespeare” aitana stated, the link tint of her cheeks only darkening as you smiled upon hearing this, “ i would say that romeo and juliet is my favourite!”

“a classic tradgedy, huh? you like romantic plays?” you asked with a smirk, and aitana tried to rack her brain to figure whether you were flirting with her or not, and made a mental note to somehow improve for the next time she spoke to you.

“yeah, im a massive tragedy fan! another tragedy i love is-“ silence filled the library as aitana desperately tried to think of another tragedy, and felt like hitting herself for not paying more attention in her lectures.

“uhhh- a midsummers night dream?” aitana cringed at how it came out as a question, and blushed fiercely when she heard you giggle.

“although some prospects of the play could be considered a tragedy, a midsummers night dream was actually intended to be a comedy!”, you stated, rambling off about some tragic elements of the play, and aitana never knew that shakespeare could be such a turn on, but maybe it was just the fact that a pretty girl was talking about it, not her old male professor.

after inviting aitana to come sit down with you, and diving into a conversation of plays, both of you hardly noticed how an hour had already passed, although the conversation had mainly been one sided, with you rambling about your favourite plays, aitana enjoyed your company.

that was until ona called aitana asking where she was as they were going, aitana was sad to leave, and noticed you frown a bit as she told you she had to go.

“thankyou for tolerating my rambling about shakespeare, i know you dont actually love it that much.” you said while smiling at the spaniard in front of you.

“huh- what do you mean? i love the guy” aitana argued.

“its fine honestly- i saw your confusion when i was talking about his plays” you laughed.

“okay fine, i might be failing english literature but i definitely learnt some new things while talking to you, so thankyou”

“any time” you responded just as diego ran into the library talking in rapid spanish which you know he only does when hes in a rush, you understood a part when he said “ended 10 minutes ago” which you could only guess he was talking about your shifts. you smiled apologetically at aitana and said goodbye before leaving with diego.

when aitana met up with everyone at the exit, she was bombarded with questions of where she was to which she responded “in the library”

pina was shocked at this answer “the library? you hate books! your failing english for gods sake! what were you doing there?”

“well- there was this girl-”

“a girl! there you have it! little aitana here has a crush! she must really love her if she spent an hour in a library with her!”

“shut up patri!” aitana scowled “ we were talking about shakespeare!”

“shakespeare?! do you feel ill tana, can you go to training tomorrow? ona i think she is ill” patri teased.

aitana only stormed off after shooting one last glare at the group before returning to the car.

the teasing didnt stop there though, as soon as the others got to the car, she was met with relentless bullying the whole way back to campus about how “whipped” she is.

but also she realised something on her was back, she had forgotten to ask for your name and she has also never given you her name, which put her in a grumpy mood for the rest of the night before deciding it was fate, and a sign that she should be focusing on football.

———

aitana however, was actually wrong that you didnt know who she was. it was part of the reason you knew she didnt actually like shakespeare. diego was a big fan of football and followed the schools girls football team who were quite popular amongst the school.

he dragged you to many of their matches whenever you had the time, and therefore you had seen the brunette midfielder quite a lot.

you werent surprised when diego dragged you to yet another one of their matches a few weeks later, you were both sat down when diego announced he was going to get a coffee, and with promises to get you a tea and some chocolate, he left.

while he was gone, both university teams started doing warmups, and you couldnt keep your eyes away from a certain brunette midfielder, who honestly looked too good today.

“careful, your drooling amiga! i didnt know footballers were your type”

“jesus diego! and theyre not, i was simply looking at number 14, i was talking to her a few weeks ago in the museum.”

“you were speaking to aitana! and you didnt think to call me?!”

the truth was, members of the football team were very popular, they were nice and would greet you if you said hello, but their main friends were in the football team, so you didnt really see them hanging around with other people. lots of students had slight crushes on certain members, much like yours on aitana.

you werent listening to diegos lecture though, as your eyes drifted to aitana again, the extra gym sessions she had been doing really paid off, and when she lifted up her training top to wipe the layer of sweat from her face, you wouldnt be surprised if you fainted there and then.

what you werent expecting were for her eyes to scan the crowd and land on you, seeing her point and wave at you with a smirk on her face made you glad you were sat, you knew if you were stood up your knees would have buckled under you immediately.

seeing you blush and send aitana a wave back was all of the confirmation diego needed to know that aitana just waved at you.

“did she just wave at you? y/n have you pulled aitana? how?! did you recite some shakespeare love quote or something?! do you like her? oh my god- you do! your blushing!” diego was spiralling, aitana was known for not dating or flirting, unlike many of her teammates who were known for flirting and dating a lot. so seeing her waving at you made diego unfocused for the entirety of the match, as he thought of how he was going to get you two together.

however, he didnt exactly need to, as you and him were seated quite close to the pitch, when the match ended both of you saw aitana call you over with a wave of her hand.

you werent sure how it was possible for her to look this good after a match, but as you approached the railing she was leant against you suddenly became very self aware of the blush that coated your cheeks.

“hey, your from the museum, right? i never actually got the chance to ask for your name.” aitana said, her eyes roaming appreciatively over your body.

“yeah, im y/n, you must be aitana, you played very well today, you have been revising some shakespeare?” you laughed as you saw the teasing frown that appeared on aitanas face, “shakespeare in my opinion writes very boring things!” aitana argued.

you put a hand over your heart and gasped in mock offence, “aitana youre hurting my heart, talking about the greatest play writer of all time!”

but before aitana could respond, pina and patri bounded over to her and slung an arm round her neck, they recognised you from the museum, and in their minds came to aitanas rescue to help her ask you out.

“hello! your y/n right? i think you were at janas dorm once doing art, correct me if i am mistaken” patri said, “yes i have been, its nice to meet you!” you replied as diego handed you yet another cup of tea.

“i hear you are very good at english literature? you know, aitana is in desperate need of a tutor!” pina stated while wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, making aitana smack her on her arm.

“ignore her! her mum dropped her on her head as a baby!” aitana joked making you laugh and reply “its fine! i dont mind tutoring you if you need it aita?”

upon hearing her nickname fall from your lips aitana couldnt help but smile bashfully and blush like a little girl with her first crush, much to her teammates amusement.

“uh- yes! yes- definately, i would love that, can i have your number? to schedule a time that is! or not- if you dont want to, or if you changed your mind! no pressure y/n- “

you smiled at aitanas almost incoherrent rambling, “aita, i want to tutor you, honestly. can i get your phone to put my number in?”

aitana quickly pushed her phone in to your hands before you could change your mind, and as soon as you typed in your number, sprinted off with a quick goodbye.

———

you and aitana scheduled your tutor sessions every tuesday and thursday, the days aitana didnt have training or matches. however, the study sessions werent going as planned, as aitana could not concentrate at all. you werent sure why, and obviously aitana would never dare admit that she was daydreaming about you, with you right in front of her.

you felt hopeless, you loved aitana, you really did, she spoke to you as well when she saw you around school, except that was it, you longed for so much more with the brunette, unknown to you that aitana felt the same way.

after a month of tutoring, aitana could still not pass an english literature test, she knew that you would confront her about it soon, you had dedicated a lot of time tutoring her after all.

“aitana i dont get it! i mean- you say you need a tutor but then you dont concentrate at all, you failed another test! do i bore you during these, what can i do for you to listen?” you said exasperatedly, aitana knew you had every right to be mad at her, to anyone else it looked like she wasnt trying at all.

“no of course your not boring me y/n, you would never!”

“tana, should i change the length of these sessions, are they too long, and making you tired? i understand if its too much?”

“no, no they are fine, i have one idea in mind though”, this was it, aitana planned on asking you something she had been mustering up the courage for a while to do ever since you had stopped accompanying diego to the matches, caught up in studying.

“uh- you could come to my matches each sunday? maybe in my jersey.” aitana asked sheepishly. you however, choked on your water as soon as you heard her request, i mean, was that not a couple thing to do?

“uh- sure aita, if that would make you concentrate on english literature more!” you paused as you quickly thought of an excuse to get out of the library to recollect your thoughts, “can we please cut this session a little short, i promised diego i would go for a coffee with him!”

“oh okay, bye y/n see you on sunday!”

after saying goodbye to aitana, you rushed to diegos room, telling him about aitanas request, although his reaction didnt match your panicked state, as he immediately started laughing.

“finallyyy amiga! i was wondering when one of you would make the first move!”

“diego your not helping! what do i do?!”

“you should probablyy… go to the match and wear the jersey?” diego said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, whilst rolling his eyes.

“everyone will see, its a thing couples do, everyone will think that we are together” you said, “you say it like its a bad thing y/n, if i were you, i wouldnt be mad if people thought i was with aitana bonmati” diego argued.

“whatever” you huffed also rolling your eyes at him “you will come to the match with me though, aitana texted me saying she got front row seats for us”

“obviously im going y/n, i guess now your girlfriend has got us good seats i owe the favour of being your drink refiller?”

“you were going to refill my drinks anyway, and shes not my girlfriend diego!”

“whatever you say”

———

it was match day, as promised you were wearing one of aitanas jersey which the midfielder had dropped off for you earlier this morning. you had already gotten quite a few dirty looks from people who you could only assume were aitanas “fangirls”. the dirty looks only got worse when during warm ups aitana came over to you, and leant over the railing, holding your jaw to move your head to the side so she could whisper something in your ear.

diego, who had gone to get you a tea when this interaction took place, only saw the two of you from far away, and from a distance, it honestly looked like aitana was kissing your neck.

“woah amiga what was that? you never told me you two had sorted your feelings out, was she kissing you?” diego exclaimed as soon as aitana was called back over to get ready for kickoff.

“what? we werent kissing! she was just telling me something!”

“sure y/n, sure”

the game had started, and a brunette midfielder on the pitch couldnt seem to keep their eyes off you. however, it wasnt aitana. a girl off of the rival team seemed to be flirting with you from on the pitch, as diego said.

it wasnt only the two of you that had noticed too, it was hard for aitana to not notice, especially when the girl scored and pointed at you in the stands.

this only fuelled aitana more to win, but jealousy once again overcame her when she saw the girl blow a kiss to you, so when the girl next had the ball, aitana quickly slid into her, completely taking her out and earning herself a yellow card in the process.

the short lecture that aitanas captain was giving her went in one ear and out of the other, as aitanas eyes had already drifted to you, both of you locked eye contact and you couldnt help but laugh and shake your head at the midfielder, who smiled at seeing your laughter.

in aitanas opinion, if she couldnt injure the girl anymore, she might as well embarrass her on the pitch. the rest of the match was filled with aitana nutmegging, and skilling the poor girl who flirted with you. the spaniard relished in the feeling of dribbling straight past the girl, and ended up scoring two goals, and after each one she pointed at you.

at the end of the match, she ran straight over to you, who was already stood up and leant against the railing.

“y/n i just wanted to thank you again for coming, you dont have to do this again next week, i know that football does bore you a bit.”

“no tana, i enjoyed it really, you played so well and im so proud of you!”

“you will come again next week?”

“of course i will, now you should go celebrate the win with the team.” you said, realising that most of the team were soaking up the glory of winning, and aitana was missing it, “also, would you want to go get a coffee with me next week, theres a new cafe that opened up near campus?”

“i would love to aita, message me the details?”

“i will tonight! bye y/n, and bye diego!” however a poke in your side from diego reminded you of exactly what he wanted you to do, and you knew you would be bullied relentlessly by him all night if you didnt, so you grabbed aitanas arm before she could run to her teammates, and pressed your lips to hers.

as you looped your arms round the midfielders neck, you felt her smile into the kiss, before pressing her tongue to your lips, eliciting a soft gasp from you which aitana silenced with her lips, you pulled away from the kiss when you began to feel lightheaded, and you werent sure if it was due to the lack of oxygen or that you were just kissing aitana.

“bye aitana” you said with a wave before pressing your lips on her cheek, as a more pg way of saying goodbye.

aitana ended up passing english literature.

———

#Spotify #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #aitana bonmati #mapi leon #mapi león #ona batlle #claudia pina #patri guijarro #jana fernandez #bruna vilamala #alexia putellas #aitana bonmati x reader

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seonghrtz · 3 days

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memory #4 spin-off ★ gojo waking you up the next day.

When Gojo woke up the next morning, he was immediately startled by the figure of Megumi and Tsumiki standing in front of him. He sat down on the sofa and stretched out, surprised that his sofa wasn't that bad to sleep on.

"What is it?" Gojo asked the children, still sleepy and yawning.

"Um, it's nine in the morning..." Tsumiki played with the hem of her pajama top.

"Ah, breakfast!" Gojo scratched his head, messing up his white hair even more.

"Well, we already had breakfast!" Tsumiki said.

"What?" Gojo looked at the girl and then at Megumi, who was standing next to her.

"Kamo-san always gets up very early and usually makes breakfast in the morning, but this time she didn't wake up. We thought she was pretty tired since she hardly ever gets a proper rest from work, so we took the opportunity to make breakfast. But we don't want to wake her up, but if we don't, the coffee will get cold.”

"Oh, all right, I'll wake her up for you. I'm sure she'll appreciate your kindness." Gojo smiled and got up from the sofa, heading for his room.

Slowly, he opened the door to find himself in darkness. Gojo had bought some thicker curtains to put up in his room to block out the light, and maybe that was why you were still asleep ⸻ inside the room, it still seemed to be night.

He walked over to where you were and sat on the edge of the bed, watching you sleep peacefully. That moment was the most relaxed he had ever seen you. Gojo had never imagined seeing you in his own clothes, lying on his bed, your hair messy, and your serene face. Gojo didn't know he needed to see you like this, so domestic, so calm, until he saw you like this. It hurt him to have to wake you up and end all that peace and quiet, but Tsumiki and Megumi had gone to great lengths to prepare breakfast especially for you.

He sighed and shook his head to the side, trying to clear his thoughts and concentrate on waking you. But just as he put his warm hand on your cold arm, he felt something hard against his cheek.

"Fuck!" He muttered, feeling a pain in his cheek.

"Gojo?!" You sat up in the bed, startled, and looked at the boy holding his own cheek with a pained expression, "I'm sorry!"

"You... you hit me?" Gojo looked at you in disbelief as he felt the side of his face hurt.

You, Kamo Y/n, had just punched the strongest sorcerer of your generation, Gojo Satoru. And it was all unintentional.

"I'm sorry!" You said worriedly, you didn't mean to hit Gojo, "I woke up and saw two blue balls and a white figure, and I thought it was a curse.” You mumbled, realizing that what you had seen were actually the blue eyes and white hair of the boy in front of you.

"It would have been better if it really was a curse... You're a heavy hand, aren't you?"

"And your limitless, shouldn't you have it on?"

"Why should I have my limitless on at nine o'clock on a Saturday?" Gojo lay down on the bed and crossed his legs, almost in a fetal position.

"I'm sorry, I really am."

"It's okay, I guess I deserved that punch a little."

"Yeah, maybe you deserved it..." a slight smile broke out on your face, causing Gojo's cheeks to flush and blend in with the redness of the new wound.

If one punch was the price for the angelic sight of you, sitting in a sea of white blankets, wearing his shirt with messy hair and a slight smile on your face, then Gojo Satoru would take as many punches as necessary until he had that sight etched eternally in his memory.

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lorelaiblair · 3 days

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Birthdays were always hard for Enid Sinclair.

Around the age of seven they stopped being days about celebrating her, and became an entire day full of ridicule and insults.

Why had she not wolfed out yet? her eldest brother had done it when he was 5.

It only got worse as she got older.

They never made it a point to talk about her while she wasn’t in the room.

She always heard it.

Maybe that’s why she always tried her hardest to give her friends good birthdays.

Why she threw a party that she honestly should have known that Wednesday wouldn’t have liked.

She wasn’t really all that mad at Wednesday, as much as she was realizing that nobody in her life loved her like she loved them. Wednesday couldn’t even act interested, her family couldn’t ever act like they cared about her past her ability to turn into a ‘real’ werewolf.

Enid tried and tried and tried, her entire life she fought to be worthy of love.

Wasn’t this proof? All over again, that no matter how hard she tried it wouldn’t matter?

It wasn’t

It didn’t take long for Enid and Wednesday to learn each other. it didn’t take long for them to start seeing what each other needed.

Now Enid wakes up on her birthday in a small house she and her girlfriend had turned into a home together. There is a pretty girl sitting next to her in bed, and a tray of all her favorite breakfast food’s in said girl’s hands.

“Happy birthday, mon amour” Wednesday says softly, before pressing her lips to Enid’s forehead.

They have breakfast in bed, and Enid can tell that Wednesday made the muffins from scratch by the hint of cinnamon that the goth girl claims tastes like cyanide.

Enid braid’s Wednesday’s hair, Wednesday helps Enid with her lipstick. They end up getting it everywhere. Wednesday has to wash her face a third time.

Wednesday takes her shopping, a true feat for the girl who hates color and other people. She only complains twice. She buys Enid everything she wants. It’s the only time a year that Enid lets her get away with that.

They have lunch at the mall food court, not without Wednesday’s insistence that Enid deserves more than gross mall food.

They have an early dinner at a fancy restaurant, one Enid had been talking about trying for months now.

They arrive home to a full house. Banners hung on walls and pastel balloons covering the floor. Friends and family jump out from behind walls and furniture to shout surprise, but they’ve done this for the past five years, it’s not much of a surprise anymore. That doesn’t make it any less sweet.

Enid squeezes Wednesday’s hand, a thank you. As the rest of the Addamses, who had loved Enid from the moment they met her, pull her into bone crushing hugs.

Her friends are next, Yoko ruffling her hair and Divina fixing it for her. Bianca kisses her cheek and Eugene holds her nearly as tight as the Addamses had. She and Ajax preform their ‘secret’ handshake and Enid feels celebrated.

She has it now. Everything that she has ever wanted.

A family.

#wednesday 2022 #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday #wenclair #wednesday x enid #wednesday is soft for enid #enid x wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday and enid #netflix wednesday #wednesday headcanons #wednesday fic #wednesday series #eniday #enid and wednesday #addams family #the addams family

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turcott3 · 2 days

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First of all thank you for the Rempe content

Second of all, I’ve been thinking about this:

You’ve been dating Matt since just after he got to Seattle. You’re openly aware of his fighting and you don’t mind it but once he gets to the NHL you can’t help but let the media and the backlash get to you about Matt fighting. When he gets ejected from a game on a match penalty, you find yourself going down to see him, clearly upset and trying to drill into it him that he doesn’t have to fight all these people, he has nothing to prove. He doesn’t see it that way and you two go back and forth for a little while. He turns to you and says ‘this is who I am. I am working on it, I ask you to accept that’ or something like that and then you have to accept that his fighting is a thing but it doesn’t mean you’re happy about it still. So now every time he gets in a fight he brings you flowers and chocolate after the game

kisses

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, mild arguing, fluff, kisses

masterlist

“matthew rempe.” you yell busting open the door.

“jesus you scared me.” he jumps, giggling.

“what have i fucking told you matt.” you say sternly as the boy sits down in front of you.

“what?” he shrugs.

“matt please for the love of god stop all this fighting crap. i mean it.” you press, tears welling up in your eyes.

“it’s fun, i never mean any harm by it.” he replies.

“matt, i know. but please. just stop. for your own sake and the sake of your health please. it hurts my heart having to stitch you up after every game. please just at least take a break from it, or only fight when it’s necessary. i just wanna see my boys face healthy again.” you say wiping a tear of frustration that fell.

“come here baby.” he says lowly, opening his arms for you to sit on his leg as you brushed his soft hair from his face.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know you felt that way. i’ll try to dim it down okay? this is just the kind of player i choose to be y/n, and that’s how it is but i promise im gonna try to dial it down for you.” he says pressing a kiss to your temple.

“but just know if any guy ever chirps about you they’re dead, okay?” he giggles wiping your tears away gently with his thumb.

“okay.” you smile lightly, finding it hard to ever stay mad at him.

“and i’m sorry for getting ejected again, i know you like staying for the whole game.” he giggles with his chin rested on your shoulder in a hug.

“it’s okay baby. i can’t be mad at being able to have you at home sooner. i always miss you when i can’t come.” you giggle, scratching his scalp with your nails, something he always loved you doing.

“is it bad that i feel that way too.” he says pulling away, locking eyes with you.

“no it just means you love me.” you smile, squishing his cheeks like a baby before he pulls your hand away.

“would you stop that, you know i don’t like it.” he laughs

“well i think it’s funny, and i feel in this moment you deserved it.”

“touché”

“matt.” you mumble under your breath as you sat on the couch with a load of emails on your laptop, the game on your tv. of course, another fight. a much more evenly matched one this time. you shut your laptop with anxiety waiting for the final buzzer of the game to sound, eventually dozing off as your mind scrambled at what possible injuries you would have to ice or stitch tonight.

“y/n?” you wake up to the sound of matt’s voice in a low volume, trying not to startle you as his hand rested softly on your leg.

“what, huh? oh my gosh.” you say realizing that you had fallen asleep.

“i got you these.” matt says, revealing the gorgeous bouquet of roses and your favorite chocolate.

“awe matt what is this for?” you ask with your lip pouted, observing the sight in front of you. a beautiful bunch of roses and your beautiful boyfriend.

“for breaking my promise. i’m sorry baby.” he says as you lean over to kiss him on the lips.

“it’s okay my love, you know how hard it is for me to stay mad at you for literally anything. these are beautiful.” you smile lightly at him.

“i had to hand pick them, only the best for my beautiful girl.” he smiles kissing your hand delicately.

“but seriously, promise after tonight, im gonna try to be better.” he swears, setting the objects on the coffee table.

“all i ask is for you to try.” you reply as you stand up, wrapping yourself up in his large frame.

“i’ll think of you out there, every game. every time i get challenged. i swear to god i will.” he mumbles into your hair as he kisses you on top of the head.

“i love you so much.” you say looking up into his deep brown eyes.

“i love you too.” he smiles, leaning down to attach your lips once again.

#matt rempe fluff #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe imagine #ny rangers #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #turcs’ talk

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celestie0 · 13 hours

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childhood friends to lovers with gojo.

warnings/tags. fluff & angst, sad ending

you two were five when he kisses ur cheek on the playground underneath the slide n you both thought that counted as a first kiss. u two were attached by the hip all throughout elementary school, i mean srs, your parents would even have joint parent teacher conferences bc there was just nothing the two of you wouldn't do together.

and then middle school came around, you joined the marching band n he joined the football team. he starts acting different around you, and it hurts. bc you two were best friends. you were always supposed to be best friends. he starts hanging out w the popular kids, and you find yourself walking home alone. summer before high school, he wants to hang out again, but you tell him you deserve better than that. and you two drift apart.

it's hard starting high school without him, watching him from afar during lunch in the cafeteria. he's with his table of phonies, acting like someone he's not, and you know because you've always known him. better than anyone else. you really wanna join the cheer team, since you've done gymnastics for a long time, but you've always been too afraid to tryout for the team. this time, you do, and you get in. now all of a sudden he wants to talk to you again, now that you're popular in high school and have earned a place on the field during his games. fuck that, you say to him, you threw away what we had just because i wasn't good enough for you to have by your side. you start dating his teammate, you two are nominated for prom queen & king, and he has to watch as you kiss someone else on stage when you win. someone that should've been him. he starts dating the cheer captain, just to show it off when he comes running to her after a winning game, kissing her right in front of you but he's not looking at her, he's looking at you. to make sure you're watching. and you do the same thing to him. and the whole time you two are wondering what are we doing to one another?

summer after high school, he shows up to your doorstep one day on his skateboard. with a box full of all the letters you used to send him as a kid. you still have yours too, somewhere tucked underneath your bed. you spend the whole afternoon laughing with him as you read through them all, laying on the carpet of your living room, and you both feel like kids again. he hovers over you when he kisses you, but you're still mad at him, and to show him how mad you are, you kiss him back. it's no use, you two are going to different colleges, you'll hardly see him, but he swears he's call. he swears he'll fly to see you. he swears he'll never makes the same mistakes again, because he wants you. and only you. you kiss his cheek, and say okay.

and he does. he does everything he promises you. but the distance is too hard, and he was a little too late. you break up with him over a twenty-one character text sent while you're drunk at a house party your second semester at university, and he just doesn't understand. he'll never understand. and he never sees you again.

until you're both thirty-two, standing in line at the grocery store. he taps your shoulder, you turn around, you wonder if it's a stranger who wants a favor, and you realize he's so much more than that. he's the little boy that kissed your cheek underneath the slide when you were five. your first kiss. except it wasn't, was it? his face is long, and his cheeks have lost plush, but he looks so handsome it makes your heart skip a beat. you two are pleasant, exchanging it's been so long! and you look great! but when his eyes catch the twinkle of the wedding ring on your finger, his smile drops ever so slightly, and when he scratches his cheek to hide the sadness, you notice a band on his finger too. and he pays for your groceries, just to be kind. and you thank him for it, just to be kind. and you go your separate ways, never to speak again. but there's a box that still sits somewhere in your closet. and a similar one still sits in his too.

#sorry idk why tf this got sad all of a sudden #this was just supposed to be fluffy #lfmaooo??#help #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader angst #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen #so heavily inspired by many ts songs w this one loool

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tarjapearce · 2 days

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Like Me Pt. 2

Tarzan! Miguel O'Hara x Scientist ! Reader

Art by Rendraws21 on X

WARNINGS: Mildly suggestive, power dynamics, emotional distress, endangering situations, Kraven being an asshole.

Summary: Your savior proves himself to be very much real.

A|N: Hope you like! I know you're waiting smut. Just bare with it! ;w; Reblogs and feedback are always welcome ❤️

Previous Miguelverse Main Masterlist

Kraven didn't dally and ordered the camp to be settled. The spot was rather good. A prime source of water and food next to you all, soil sturdy and perfect for withstanding the hard hammering of the tools that nailed the bases for the tents.

And after hours of bickering, russian cursing, more work and the crew doctor patching your arm up, the camp was settled and food served.

Each bite not only felt heavenly, but was scarfed down. You couldn't care less if Peter looked your way, mildly disgusted and surprised of your manners, or rather the lack of them while eating.

It was the least you deserved after surviving a ship sinking, getting lost in the jungle, being chased by a giant Jaguar and a man that left more questions than answers.

Who was he? More important, How had he survived all these years on his own?

After a second plate and extra slices of bread, one of the men approached and announced the readiness of your tent. One of the things you asked in your contract. To have your own, cause as much as you trusted Peter, there was nothing better than to have your own space and privacy in the midst of an unhealthy amount of testosterone surrounding you.

"We've eaten, replenished, and blah blah. What happened?" Peter mumbled while picking his and your plate together.

You shook your head softly as another crew member passed by. You didn't trust them, and Kraven had proved to be unpredictable.

One minute he cared for his crew and the other he was leaving you to fend for yourselves. But as long as you did your job, you wouldn't be part of the russian's guessing dangerous games.

"Kraven said we'd have to make do with the little tools we have. He spent a good time of the day trying to get some signal for the radio."

"Any luck?"

"None so far." Peter mumbled as he took your things inside your tent.

A hammock was the bed, a few boxes and other storage things were placed in a corner. A chalkboard and your investigation books in another corner and against all odds, a little broken mirror that acted as a poor attempt of a vanity ontop of another wooden box. Your hairbrush rested next to it. Whoever arranged it, at least had the consideration to make it as comfortable looking as possible.

In total, you had a couple of shirts and skirts left to use. The rest remained on the sea, floating and drifting away with unknown course.

Peter excused to go change himself and you seized the chance to do the same. Catching a cold in the jungle wasn't in your priorities list. Not with reduced medicine and victuals.

You put on a dry set and combed your hair out as much as you could. Peter joined you a couple of minutes later.

The fire cracked and sparked alive as the crew surrounded it. The day had been chaotic at best and everyone tried to soothe the nerves in their own way. Some drank, others sang, others talked and soon Kraven joined.

Others simply went to sleep. Too tired to keep up after a well deserved meal.

"So..." Peter started while sitting before you, a rag and some tubs on his hands. He was cleaning the remaining pieces of your equipment.

"Promise me you won't talk to anyone about this. And I mean it, Parker."

"I'm a geologist, not a snitch."

"I'm... kinda scared of what might happen if Kraven finds out"

"Now you're scaring me. What happened back there?"

"I know... who killed the beast Kraven is skinning." A gulp rolled down your throat upon remembering the lurid scene displaying before your eyes

"Wait... you said, who?"

A nod from you and Peter paled.

"We're not alone, that's for sure."

Peter rubbed his hands against his face, an exasperated groan escaped him.

"He's taller than Kraven."

"Bullshit." Peter mumbled almost immediate, surprised at your words.

"I'm not bullshittin' you Parker!" You had to hush your voice and soon grabbed a sketch notebook and begun tracing and drawing.

"He's freaking tall, long hair and he's naked. Well, not naked but a loincloth is everything but clothes if you think about it."

Peter frowned suspiciously as his hand pressed on your skin, to see if your body temperature had increased. Jungle fever was one of the worst things a human could suffer when away from their homeland. Cause he refused to believe anything of the nonsense that came out of your mouth was true.

A man taller than Sergei? Impossible. He was tall, but Sergei had been one of the tallest and well built men he had ever came across with.

"What are you doing?" You pushed his hands away and frowned.

"I'm sorry, I do want to believe you but.."

"I'm telling you the truth, Pete! He had... This... red hue on his eyes and fangs!"

"Fangs?" The incredulity in Peter couldn't be hidden the more he listened to your apparent rave.

"He's fucking strong, Pete. He was holding that beast by his tail! and then fought body to body against it! and He's so damn touchy. No respect for personal space!."

"And what? He smashed the jaguar to death and then kissed you?"

"Yes!" You nodded but quickly frowned when Peter tittered on his seat, unable to keep the mirth away.

"Why are you laughing?!"

"I'm sorry. You know we've been friends since college, but you seriously can't expect me to believe that, Dally."

A short for Dalhberg. The surname that put your name out in the researcher's map in London, upon discovering and naming another type of daisy and named it after you. The Dalhberg Daisy.

"You believe in the freaking Queen but refuse to believe in this?"

"I believe in the Queen's acquisitive power, nothing else. Cause I've seen it!" He explained, skeptical.

You showed him the sketch and shoved it to his hands.

"Look at that! That's exactly how he looks like!"

Peter sighed and raked over his eyes on the semi-crumpled paper sheet. Sharp features, a strong jaw and deep eyes.

"Yeah, a haircut would make him look better though." he chuckled, "Look, I know it's been a long day for us... let's rest, ok? We've got another tomorrow."

With a frown you removed the sketchbook away and tossed it on the makeshift vanity.

"He's real." you pointed at the sketchbook

"Okay, okay. He's real. We can discuss it all tomorrow when we're less tired, alright?" He held your shoulders, trying to ease your rising anger.

But you quickly removed his hands from you, hurt that your best friend didn't believe you. "Whatever. Goodnight."

Peter left with a defeated sigh and soon you cuddled in your hammock.

"I know he's real." With a huff, you pushed the pillow closer to your face, letting the day's weight to finally crash on you.

-----

The loud bangs of a gunshot echoed through the bright blue skies, frightening any local fauna that rested comfortably, like you, that nearly fell out the hammock from the initial jumpscare.

With a heavy exhale, and rub of your eyes you geared up for the day.

This time Kraven was thoughtful enough to give you a weapon. A small knife with enough sharp to slice and dice through anything weak enough to perish under the blade.

And soon everyone gathered to the morning structions. Kraven split up the crew in three parts. The first group of men would go to the beach to recover as much equipment as they could. The second group would be in charge to set up traps and hunt down for food. And the third one, meaning Peter, you, two more men and himself would go explore and study the jungle in order to gain any sort of information of new potential species.

You carried a small backpack, filled with your sketchbook, pencils, some essay and sample tubes and some snacks in case Kraven decided to return until dinner time.

And after a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruits, everyone left.

Peter walked behind Sergei, guiding the group whenever the mercenary asked him to. You were in the middle as the other two men trailed with their guns behind.

Morning slowly poured into hours. Tortuous, running at the speed of a snail. Each breathing felt like adding more to the waiting, bringing your nerves to a much annoyed stance.

But it quickly melted away upon finding your first discovery.

The grass laid pressed in a circular pattern on the ground. The leaves were placed strategically, as if used as cushions in great amounts. A couple of fruit carcasses laid next to them. Discarded and forgotten.

"Look at that" The excitement in your voice beyond evident. You crouched to see if there was any other clues to your growing suspicion.

Kraven and Peter stopped upon you crouching to the floor.

"What is it?" Kraven pulled his gun from it's holster and walked over you.

"These are nests!"

"Nests?" His brow quirked and you nodded vigorously, to then count the spots. Around six in total.

"You know what that means? They live in packs! Gorillas live in packs!"

"About damn time we found something." Kraven nodded, pleased as he helped you up to then mark a spot in his map.

"Good job, Dalhberg."

Praised the mercenary before moving.

When the sun got high enough and Peter discovered some other findings like rare minerals, the group decided to take a break nearby a lake.

The five of you sat down and ate whatever thing you got left from breakfast.

Once you were done, you took your backpack, pencil and sketchbook with you.

"Where are you going?" Kraven grumbled after gulping down the water from his canteen.

"Saw some specimens of plants Id like to register. Won't take long."

"You better return as soon as possible, understood?"

The mercenary warned and you nodded while walking away from the tree. Excited to partake in the things you were brought and paid to do.

Your first specimen was a moss plant, then a new type of orchid. A fish, some birds and more plants. Even though you studied everything alive, the plants were your speciality.

You put the little backpack in a a nearby trunk as you sat down to draw yet another orchid. The place seemed flooding with them.

Engrossed beyond wits to notice you had drifted off a bit too far from the group and a little too late a baboon sniffing and ransacking your backpack.

"H-Hey! Hey! -The baboon took the backpack away, excited and driven by the tinkling within "Get back here!"

The animal hopped on the trees before you could catch it, with graceful and effortless agility, to finally stop to a sturdy looking and serpent-like shaped trunk above the middle of a swamp.

As much as you wanted to let the monkey get away with it all, you didn't want to face Kraven's anger for losing the last bit of equipment and delay the investigation. You didn't know when the next ship would arrive. None did actually.

It's hoots and chirping only increased the more things he pulled out of your backpack. The tubs shattered as they fell off.

"Stop it!" you shrieked while hopping onto the trunk with wobbly and uneven steps.

The monkey hooted louder until it started shrieking, as if mocking you whenever your balance failed and you were forced to crawl over the top.

"God, I swear... if I catch you, I'm so making an article on how annoying you are!"

The baboon just screeched at your silly threat once more before leaving your backpack pending from a twig as he jumped way through the stretched branches that favored him like open arms, with your bag of seeds.

Your breath hitched when the trunk creaked and some cracking around the base perked up your ears.

Shit.

You couldn't stop and return crawling from where you came from, not when the backpack was oh so close to be reached and your nightmare to be over.

With a deep breath, you crawled closer and closer. Paused breaths turned controlled, but quickly grunted when the hem of your skirt stuck in a jagged branch.

"No, no" You whined and pulled away, the trunk creaked harder and you immediately hugged the trunk.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" with a firm yet calculated yank, you ripped the fabric away, freeing yourself although losing a good chunk of front coverage.

A thunderous crack made your breath hitch and you moved forward as the trunk stuttered midair. It was then your eyes actually considered the generous and dangerous distance from your position to the murky water. But the backpack dangling before you, edged you to take a risky decision.

Or you took the backpack and threw it on land, hoping to take the least damage as possible or jumping to that other branch to avoid falling to the water.

None of them happened as the tree dipped forward, and with a dying groan, the cracks widened, tearing the feeble base of the trunk, unable to support your weight any longer.

As in slow motion, you saw the murky water closer and closer and closer, until nothing but darkness swallowed you whole. Cold and muddy water hit you, suffocating your body with enraged water that fought hard to drown you.

Your hands were the only thing that made it out as they failed. The sub aquatic flora begun their tangling in your boots and legs, pulling you down.

Your lungs burned as some water seeped through, the backpack sunk deeper and deeper. Like a sacrifice in exchange of your life. Because a strong pair of tanned hands pulled you with a powerful yank by the forearm, out of the water before death and crocodiles owned it.

Your head too dizzy to actually understand what was happening. Your eyes could only see the landscape sliding smoothy underneath your feet, like if you were flying.

Am I dead? Dead people don't fly, do they?

You shrieked as soon as your eyes looked upwards. Powerful and solid thighs held tightly on the growing vines, that spurted from underneath the gigantic trees, as one of his hand took your arm gently to suddenly pull you up in the air and catch you in his arms.

Your instincts told you to hold onto him as the other survival mode blared with danger alarms. The massive wall of solid muscles he had for a body was warm, full of scars and plush hair that did nothing but welcome your dizzy head on his chest.

The man quirked a brow at your sudden state. He frowned and quickly got over the foliage of a tree, before the pouring rain trapped you both.

You were put with ease against the solid and definitely not rotting trunk, and your body lurched to the side to expell away the swallowed water, clearing your airways.

A firm slap from his hand made your lungs to finally get some air as you gasped and coughed, all the while he watched you curiously.

You were drenched, against a tree, clothes sticking way too intimately against your shivering body, breathing like you were a first born, raged and fast. Lungs burned less.

Eyes finally widened when recognizing the man before you. Some fresh scars littered his Greek-god type physique.

"T-Thank you." You mumbled through clattering teeth and forced yourself to take a deep inhale to control the rising anxiety.

He grunted and approached. One of his hands slid gently under your chin to take a hold of your cheek. Your head instinctively melted into his heavenly body heat, and your eyes dared to shut for a minute. Relishing in the irradiating warmth his calloused hands provided.

He's so warm.

As if sensing the good deed, the man rubbed his hands on your cold arms, mindful of the patches around your arm, a couple of times before going back up to your cheeks and neck.

You gasped as soon as his hands were placed on your chest. His hands gently palming your breast but quickly let them go upon feeling your hardened nipples. You quickly covered your chest

He watched his hands, as if inspecting them for any damage when he felt the hardened nub, to then return to your arms, prying them away from your chest.

"Wait!"

You shrieked and he took both of your wrists with one hand and hovered them above your head, squishing them against the tree, softly. His eyes raked and took in every feature of you, before stopping at your chest again.

Your breath hitched as he slid the other hand inside your shirt. Cheeks turned impossibly warmer when he took one of your breasts and pulled it out of their confinements.

He examinated the perky mound with puppy wonder-like curiosity and then looked down his own chest. He frowned. His didn't swell like yours did.

"Wh-What are you doi-" you bit your lip as he poked your nipple, sniffed it and licked it. Earning a short mewl from you.

The sound startled him and he let you go.

"T- That's not a polite thing to do!"

You quickly put the breast back and swung your hand to slap him. You had to admit his reflexes were something else cause it caught it before it collided against his face.

"How dare you?!" You struggled to let your hand go, but stopped your outburst when his eyes watched your hands and brought them before his ever curious face.

His own hand reached up, and placed itself before yours, comparing the stretched and long digits against your smaller ones. They weren't the same size, that was much true, but the texture and lines he had were the same on yours.

His eyes shone brighter than any bewilderment. His mind had finally clicked together at the sudden epiphany that flooded his brain.

You were like him.

He pursed his lips before letting out an excited grunt. He backed away to create enough space for his arms to move freely.

He pointed to himself and spoke with the deepest yet excited voice he could manage.

"Miguel."

Your eyes went wide and you approached. He tried again while pointing at his chest.

"Mi guel."

"Miguel." His nose flared proudly and his throat grunted happily.

"Oh! I see!"

His ears perked up upon hearing your name.

"OhIsee!" He repeated.

But you quickly corrected him, with your name as you pointed to yourself and then called his name as you pointed at him.

A buttery crawl rolled down your spine as he mumbled your name.

"Exactly." you smiled.

He cupped your face again and mumbled your name once more. However, the sound of a gunshot tearing through the skies disrupted his attention from you and stood at the edge of the branch.

"Kraven" You gasped. Completely forgetting about him and the group.

Oh no...

Trouble was a tiny word of the deep neck shit you were into. Another shot rippled through, frightening the birds in the ratio.

"Kraven!" He repeated, excited.

Extraordinary. There wasn't any word to describe him better. He took you back, trapping you in between his muscular thighs and swinging through vines.

The more you approached the camp, the clearer you saw this massive black and brown spots moving away from the settlement.

Your hearth thumped with violence upon finally standing before a small group of gorillas, sniffing and hooting softly upon seeing Miguel.

Your savior wasted no time in pulling you closer to them. You shook your head, rightfully frightened.

"No, no, no wait!"

The gorillas huffed to then sniff your head, your clothes. Some even pulled at your hair softly, others examinated the clothes you were in.

Another gunshot echoed closely this time and it was loud enough to spook out the beasts out that pulled Miguel with them. You could only watch him, wide eyed, expectant. But he left.

"Miguel..."

----

Kraven wasn't one for losing his temper with women. But you, had the annoying ability to make his patiece turn to dust in the least opportunes of moments.

"I asked you, where the fuck have you been?!"

He dragged you to the center of the crew and threw you on the floor.

"I told you, I almost drowned! Why do you think I'm like this?!"

Kraven spat a few words in his native language under his breath and grunted

"You lost your equipment, didn't you?"

"I... I tried to get it back but I almost drown in the swamp, Sergei!" you explained with nothing but the truth

"You can't swim, don't you bullshit me.!"

"I'm telling you the truth!"

"Then how you survived!?"

Peter frowned as he looked at you.

"I was saved. Ok? A man saved me!"

"A man?"

"He's... Not like us. He's taller than you and he saved me!" you kept pressing, hoping the angered mercenary understood that you didn't do anything in purpose to upset him.

"He knows how to swing through the vines! And dropped me here! His name is Miguel. "

Everyone stared with derision at you and Peter seemed concerned you stuck with your story so bad to the point of risking your own neck and reputation.

Kraven' brows furrowed into a scowl and soon he pulled his revolver out and pointed at you.

Your face turned to panic, as your hands rose shakily.

"A savage named Miguel helped you?"

"He did! Otherwise you'd still be looking for me."

Kraven snorted without removing the gun's aim from your body.

"Funny you think I'd waste my resources to look up for a stupid woman like you."

"Please, you have to believe me! I saw gorillas around the camp!"

Kraven removed the safety pin from the revolver, as if peeved you'd waste his time and resources into being an idiot and not doing your work as he required.

Time was ticking and he still had no news, and for you to be fantasizing about savages and doing stupid things such as endangering yourself had proved you weren't reliable.

"You're not reliable, anymore, Dahlberg."

"No! Sergei listen to me-"

He pointed the gun once more to you "I can't keep unreliable people within my crew."

"I'm not lying!" You pleaded with all your might and tears in your eyes, "Miguel is-"

Before Sergei could push the tip of his revolver on your head and shoot, the earth underneath rumbled, as Miguel fell in between you.

Real.

Kraven stepped back as the imaginary savage was now fully standing before him. His head had to crane up to meet his burning ember eyes.

Miguel's lips snarled at him, showing his fangs and beating his chest. A clear challenge for him to fight him.

A collective round of gasps echoed through the men, but when Miguel bared his teeth, they all pulled their guns and pointed at him

"Stop!" You yelled and quickly scrambled to your feet to take Miguel's hand and shake your head with determination.

"Don't hurt him!"

Peter immediately got himself before you and rose his arms, showing he was no armed.

"I'm sure we can reach an agreement here without filling eachother with bullets, gentlemen"

"Shut up, Parker!" Sergei seethed and with a deep flare of his nose, pointed the gun at Miguel again, but Peter grabbed the weapon and the shot tore through the air again.

"Kraven" Miguel grumbled at the gun shot sound.

Said mercenary could only watch him, nonplussed for a moment. While you, again, stood your ground before the behemoth of a man. Attempting your best at protecting him.

"Have... we met before?" Kravinoff spoke confused.

"I told you he could speak! And he is real!"

Miguel remained glued at your side. Everyone slowly put their weapons down as Kraven approached to take a proper look at Miguel, fascinated by his sheer size and build.

Peter had to admit, that it was the last time he'd ever doubt your words.

"You said you had seen gorillas?"

Again, you nodded and Miguel repeated the word.

"Miguel knows them. He could help us."

"Help us? The man barely understand us, but... It's better than nothing I suppose."

Sergei scrunched his face in confusion as Miguel took strands of your hair and sniffed them, his senses awakening in pure adrenaline. Throat grunted approvingly.

"Yeah... kind of understand the personal space thing now." Peter cleared his throat behind you. The rest kept looking to see but quickly were dismissed by their leader.

"Oh, shut up." You grumbled nervously as Miguel pulled your head to his chest once more, to listen to his powerful heartbeats.

"Yeah, it's very very nice." You chuckled nervously with a soft flush creeping your cheek.

"Nice." He repeated.

Kraven could only watch but if he was the link towards the gorillas, he'd seize the chance in every way he could.

"He's way smarter than you think."

"We're running against time, how would he understand us, Dhalberg?"

Miguel moved to inspect Kraven, mimicking his gestures effortlessly. Earning a giggle from you.

"Leave that to me."

-------

Taglist:

@yhrlocalcyprus @nommingonfood @literatiastray @call-me-nyxx @gennirose @loonalockley @danubliat @marit332 @beabfleab @l3lazeit @lililapuce @prollyanvycchi @huehuehuehuehehe @nanamiscunt @ncj2837ndjcj @leviswifey-act62 @migueloharacumslut @migshusben @freehentai @animequeen4

@del-ightfulling @angel-of-the-moons

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #Miguelverse #tarzan au

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pierregazly · 6 hours

Text

greedy ꨄ charles leclerc

charles leclerc x f!reader

warnings: smut (18+ only), public-sex, charles is horny [1.3k words]

request: 🌶 charles leclerc + prompt 9, please and thank youuu 🫶🏻🫶🏻 [9. “I’m feeling greedy.”]

note: charles gives off greedy vibes, so this checks out!! this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!

The gala was as elegant as it was elite. The men were in their best suits, the women pampered and wrapped in different variations of stunning fabric and colour. The chatter was infectious, everyone’s smiles and laughter vibrated the room.

Although your eyes surveyed your surroundings, Charles’ never strayed from you. He looked like a man starved, battling obsession in the most obvious of ways. He barely contained himself when you had walked out of your shared bathroom earlier, the dress you wore evoking such a strong reaction from the Monégasque.

He couldn’t take his hands off you, either. While standing, one ring-clad hand was always pressed gently against your lower back, just teetering on the curve of your behind. While sitting, he refused to remove his hand from your knee, even when you tried to push him to use it to eat.

Charles was content the way it was.

Until he wasn’t.

He couldn’t tear his eyes off the slit in your dress, the skin of your knee so soft against his wandering hand. Your plump lips looked like they were demanding he press his own against them. The small tease of the neckline of your dress practically begging for him to pull it down more to get a better view.

You could tell he was starting to have trouble containing himself, the occasional squeeze of your knee and the way his ears went red whenever you raised an eyebrow at him a clear indication. You had denied his attempts earlier, not wanting to ruin all the effort you had put into getting in the dress, and pampering yourself for the gala.

It was only a matter of time until he broke. Which of course, didn’t take long once you had finally noticed the obvious.

Leaning over to press his lips against the shell of your ear, you felt a shiver run through your body.

“Come with me quick, mon amour,” he said.

Barely giving you a second to react, his hand that had been previously pressed against your knee was lightly squeezing your shoulder. Following his lead, you took the outstretched hand he gave you, allowing him to pull you wherever he had decided to take you this time.

The restroom was not where you were expecting him to lead, warmth crawling up your neck as you tried to subtly peer around you to determine if anyone had followed the actions of Ferrari’s star driver. From what you could see, no one had.

In a quick motion of events, you were pulled into the restroom with the door being locked behind you. Charles was quick to peer around the bathroom, confirming that there were no other occupants in the small room.

Before you had time to react, Charles was pushing you up against the wall, his lips etching themselves against yours as a hand maneuvered its way down to your hip. Moaning into his lips at his actions, he lightly ran his tongue along the seam of your lips, begging for entrance as he began to gently grind his body into yours. The want and desire so obvious by the clothed hardness now pressing into your core.

Pulling back, his eyes were hooded and full of lust, a smirk prominent on his lips.

“Charlie… we really shouldn’t. Not here,” you said.

Pouting at you, Charles started to press gentle kisses along your neck towards the line of your dress, licking along the neckline as he got closer and closer to your bust.

“But mon amour, I’m feeling greedy. Please allow me a little taste, let me make you feel good. All I’ve wanted to do is get on my knees between these pretty legs of yours. You deserve it, looking so beautiful.”

He was slowly bunching up your dress with every word, featherlight touches up your thighs as he lowered his body to his knees. It was hard to deny him when he was looking up at you so prettily, basically begging for the chance to bring you pleasure.

“Just a little taste then, baby. Can’t have you being too greedy,” carding your hands through his hair, the quick tug you gave the strands was the only prompting he needed.

Charles was quick to push your dress up to your hips, grabbing your hand to hold the dress in place as he mouthed at your thighs. Pressing kisses, licking along the skin and blemishes, you couldn’t help the shiver that wracked through your body.

One finger began to run across your covered mound, only slightly pressing into where your body was eager to feel the press of his tongue, or his finger. You arched into his actions every time he ran a finger across your panty-covered clit, mewling and pouting down at him when he moved away.

He didn’t take long before he was hooking his fingers into the fabric, pulling them aside and running a finger through the wetness that had begun to accumulate there.

“So wet for me, mon amour. Such a naughty girl, pussy so soaked in a bathroom for me, grinding into my finger. How badly do you want this, baby?”

Groaning at his words, you glared down at him. Tugging at his hair once again, he simply smirked at you.

“I’m greedy, baby. I want to know what you want,” he said as he pressed a featherlight kiss to the hood of your clit, prompting a sigh to leave your lips.

“Charlie, please. I need your tongue and your fingers, please.”

It must’ve been satisfactory enough for him, as the next moment he was spreading your lips and pressing the flat of his tongue against your clit. A low moan left your lips, your hand slapping against your mouth to hide the sounds.

Charles knew exactly what you liked, not taking long to press two fingers against your entrance, gathering up the wetness there before pressing inside of you to work them in tandem with his tongue. The tongue, which was currently running up and down your clit like it was starved of you.

Swirling and curling his tongue against your bundle of nerves in unison with his fingers pushing in-and-out of you, you threw your head back against the wall, the hand that had been holding the dress moving to his hair to try and pull him in closer.

The way he was groaning against you as he sucked at your clit, prompted you to look down. His unoccupied hand was palming against his own cloth-covered cock, attempting to give himself some reprieve from the tight trousers that were stifling any pleasure.

Charles pulled his head back to look up at you, his fingers still pumping inside of you, pressing against the spot he knew made you whine when you were in bed.

“Do you want me to make you cum, mon amour? Or is the little taste I got, good enough? Hm?”

Shaking your head down at him, he mockingly pouted up at you as he pulled his fingers from your entrance.

“You need to use your words, baby. Be a good girl, for me.”

Tugging on his hair yet again, you glared down at him. The loss of his fingers and tongue prompting an emptiness inside of you that you needed satisfied, immediately.

“Charlie, if you don’t make me cum on your tongue, I’m going to make myself cum in front of you. And then when we get home, I’m going to wrap my lips around your pretty cock, but I’m going to tease you and not let you cum. How does that sound, hm?”

Your words were breathy as they came out, the part of his lips at your words the only indication of the effect they had on him. You couldn’t help the groan that fell from your lips as he stood up.

“So bratty. I’m going to fuck you right here, now. Make you cum all over my cock instead. Turn around.”

So greedy, indeed.

i haven't written smut in SO long, so i hope this is okay!!! thank y'all so much for participating in the celebration, and feel free to keep submitting 🫶🏻

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc one shot #smut #pierregazly's 1.5k celebration

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lmao-liz · 2 days

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long distance video calls with soap

my first time writing anything and it’s smut ish. i’m usually a reader and recommender but god do I love this concept

cw: phone sex, mutual masterbation, vibrator use, voyeurism. (let me know if I missed anything)

you and johnny are in a new relationship. it’s your first relationship where the guys got an actual career. he’s someone important, he can’t tell you the details just that it’s demanding and can be dangerous at times.

you embrace the long distance phone calls and rare video chats. it’s worth it because when he’s home it's unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. you know he’s military or something along those lines, the time differences and crazy schedules make it obvious.

after a few months together he opens up. tells you about the team, his cap, gaz, and of course simon. how the long hours and being away all the time gets to the team, he’s pissed none of them ever talk about it.

him having someone to come home to, it changed his mindset, he feels bad for them. it’s empathy, a bit of pity. he’s having such a good time with you, it’s not new for him to want to share the things he loves with his teammates.

the team just got settled into bed, working for almost two days straight in some random country, everyone was out as soon as they hit their pillows, deployment’s running too long. it feels like an eternity since he’s seen you, felt you. he knows he has to keep external contact as low as possible, but the thought of seeing you. it’s his forbidden fruit.

he’s a catholic, in hindsight not a great one, he kills, does unspeakable things for his job. so what’s another tally? one that he knows he deserves, because he’s been working so hard, it would be worth it.

the video call only rings twice before you pick up.

5:33 am.

he should be sorry for waking you up, but he needs you. you answer in the darkness of your room face illuminated by your phone screen. the lights are off in the barracks but you can see him in his bunk, shirtless, an arm tucked behind his head.

he looks like the product of a wet dream. one of which you’ve had too many of to be relaxed seeing him like this. he asks you what you’re wearing, tells you he needs you. he’s desperate, working long hours, going through all kinds of shitty situations. he says he’ll return the favour once he’s home. you know he will, he always does.

you don’t resist when he asks you to lift your shirt. you know he’s been working so hard, it’s the least you could do. he tells you to grab the vibrator he got you just before he left. knows how sometimes you need it quick and strong, not afraid of you liking it more than him, he knows how desperate you get while he’s gone for long periods of time.

he’s whispering praise to you, you can see the movement of his arm behind the screen. the laptop propped up on his drool worthy abs. it’s quick, the vibrator hitting in just the right spot, johnnys not the only desperate one. you haven’t seen him in months.

johnny knows he should turn his volume down. the sounds of your pleasure are bouncing off the walls of the small barracks. he just can’t help himself, too focused on your contorted face, your sounds, the quiet hum of your vibrator.

it should be embarrassing how fast he comes, but seeing you, even through a screen, it's more than he’s had, his imagination can’t compare to seeing the real thing. his grunts and heavy breathing are enough to push you over the edge. you both writhe in pleasure, thousands of miles between you too, but it’s not enough to keep you apart. you’re even more tired, a good orgasm and seeing johnny, you know he can’t stay on the line longer, but you want nothing more than to actually get a chance to talk.

he tells you he’ll be home soon, make up for him being gone longer than he said he would be. he wishes you a good night saying he's got another busy day tomorrow. you blow him a kiss goodbye, making him promise to come home safe.

“alweys dae lass”

the call ends, you set the vibrator and your phone back on your nightstand, rolling over and drifting back into dreamland.

johnny sets the laptop to his side, wondering how he’s going to clean himself up without waking everyone up. just when he’s about to say fuck it and sacrifice his boxers, a box of tissues hits his shoulder. he catches it before it hits the ground and looks to the bunk across the small room, he can see the outline of the infamous skull mask staring back at him.

“didn't know you had such a pretty bird waiting for you back home, johnny”

he swears he sees simon adjusting himself beneath his blankets. but it’s dark, he hasn’t slept in almost 40 hours. it’s just his mind playing tricks on him right?

is this actually good? I like it but it’s a word vomit of my thoughts so i’m insanely biased. do I continue writing or stick to recommendations…

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tw1l1te · 3 days

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𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖘𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖔- 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

Hyrule was no more.

That's what the elders told you, at least.

The sacred fields and forests of the kingdom have been blanketed with white snow for a millennia, the sun only behind the clouds. The population of Hyrule has dwindled over time, making this era lonely and full of decay.

Truly an era that should be forgotten.

An era that didn’t deserve a place in the historical archives.

An era that was doomed to begin with.

Looking out onto the cold, dreadful expanse of Hyrule, you wonder what your life had come to. Being alone for a significant portion of your late teens and constantly on the run wasn’t your idea of a good life. A life where you got to be happy. But, no one really got to have that anymore, everyone lived to survive. They’ve all accepted that in this life, you lasted as long as you could, and that was that.

You felt a stinging cold brush of air against your cheek, instinctively causing you to bundle your scarf tighter around your face. An old habit.

It was about to snow soon. That’s all that Hyrule did anymore: snow. There were no more seasons or days of clear skies, the sunniest the fallen kingdom got was a gloomy gray sky, a white orb just barely being seen amidst the gray blanket.

Getting up from the rock you sat on, you made your way downhill, back to the run-down village you called home, or the closest thing to that. The elders did their best with the limited resources they had, as after the Reawakening, there was hardly anything left.

The village was small, you could walk the entirety of it in just under five minutes. Being located South of central Hyrule, you were lucky enough to be shrouded in thick forests, protecting your little village.

Walking through the main pathway, you wave to a few people, a small smile under your scarf. These people were the closest thing to family, as yours had been forgotten about long ago. It was for the best.

You walk up to the main entrance of the meeting house, knocking twice on the wooden door. You open the door and walk inside, making sure to latch the door behind you so the wind wouldn’t blow the damn thing inward.

“Another storm comin’, aye?”

You look behind you to see Arden, one of your closest friends and comrades. He was a few years older than you and taller, with shoulder-length black hair that was begging to be trimmed.

“Yep, second one this month and it's only the third week. Make sure your mother stores her plants in the cellar, her herbs are crucial to us.”

He nods, walking to the table in the middle of the shack. The table was littered with half-torn maps and old trinkets, most of them collecting dust.

“...Anything new?” he asks, arms crossed over his form. You knew what he was asking about. Your memories.

“Bits n’ pieces, they’ve been kind of blurry lately, its hard to even understand what’s happening.”

He nods, satisfied with your answer.

“Well, at least you’re not having constant nightmares, I couldn’t even imagine the horrors you saw.”

You look away from him, recalling your last nightmare. Though so much of it was in fragments, you remember it being so vivid and… real. As if you were him.

“I haven’t had one in a bit, which is nice… I guess. Haven’t gotten any answers to our main issue though. Her.”

“Have you tried writing down what happens in your dreams? Maybe connect the dots after you’ve taken some notes?”

You shake your head, mentally tired from talking so much. After your journey a year ago, you’ve gotten so used to not talking for days or weeks at a time that even a few sentences makes you exhausted.

“I see. Well, the others are supposed to meet us here-”

There were rapid knocks on the door, sounding impatient and frantic. Looking at Arden, you go to unlatch the door, curious as to what the disruption was about. You were surprised to see Colin, another comrade of the team, standing there looking worried, eyebrows creased.

“Y/n, Arden… I think you should follow me. You need to see this.”

You turn to look back at Arden, giving him a curt nod. Your meeting could wait.

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

You and Arden walk with Colin, the lack of information eating away at your brain. What could have possibly worried Colin so much? Did something happen?

You all walk up to the large tent where you kept most of your supplies and food, the thick canvas fabric flapping in the wind. You could hear talking in the tent, several people already residing ithin.

Colin turns to you, muttering “Y/n, they might recognize you based on your clothing. I’d suggest concealing your face a bit, we don’t know their intentions. Could be some of her’s.”

Taking in the tone of his words, you wrap the scarlet scarf around your face, making sure only your eyes were visible. Your hood was already up, so you didn’t have to worry too much about them seeing more of you.

“Thanks.” you murmured, already walking towards the entrance of the tent, hands balled up into fists.

“Be careful, Link.”

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

Immediately after walking into the tent, you halt at the number of people in the room. Including two of your other team members, there were twelve people in the room. All of their focus was on you.

Dusk, one of the women of your team, walks up to you.

“We found them while scouting the back woods. They’re armed, but not hostile. They say they’re the heroes of Hyrule, whatever that means.”

You nod curtly at her words, eyeing the group. Their eyes are glued to you, each one with varying degrees of frustration, confusion, or curiosity across their faces. Then it hits you.

It is them. Each one, from each era.

But all together? This is a first.

You wonder why they’re staring at you so much, but then you remember you are wearing the hero’s garb. Same green hat, full green getup. An obvious indicator to them.

You groan internally, you should've changed.

The blonde man with the blue scarf stands up and walks over to you, hand out for a handshake.

“You’re a Link, aren’t you? Pleasure to meet the hero of this era.”

You look at his hand, then back up at him.

Is he serious?

You snort under your scarf, the casual interaction being so alien to you. The last thing you were interested in doing was being acquaintances with the past heroes.

Seeing your lack of response makes him pull back his hand, face full of confusion. What was up with this era?

The one-eyed hero from behind him suddenly stands up and makes his way to you. His good eye bores down at you before speaking.

“My apologies for my Captain’s forwardness. My name is Link, but we all go by monicker’s to diffuse the confusion. I go by Time, and the others will introduce themselves at a later time. We happened to stumble into your woods and are currently trying to find out where and when we are located.”

You raise an eyebrow at his statement.

When? Meaning… they time traveled?

Dusk beat you to the chase answering, “We don’t exactly count years, but based off of the last era counted, we are about 10,000 years after the Era of The Wilds.”

Time takes a moment to process the information, seemingly doing some mental calculations. He looks back down at you.

“And it’s safe to assume you’re the hero of this era?”

You nod slowly.

He takes a hesitant breath before continuing, “... what happened in this era? From what we’ve briefly seen, its the most destroyed time period we’ve seen.”

Dusk walks up behind you, saving you from the interrogation.

“Our country destroyed itself. No monarchy, no kingdom, barely anything left.”

His brows furrowed, “Ganon’s doing?”

You still at the name. You should have been prepared to answer this question. After all, it was inevitable.

You shake your head.

“Ganondorf?”

Again, you shake your head.

“Then who?”

You look at Dusk, silently pleading her to not tell them of your fate. This was something that needed to be eased onto them slowly. After all, most of them were devout to Hylia in one form or another.

Seeing your desperation, Dusk sighs.

“It’s better if you follow us back to the Resistance Headquarters. We have more information there.”

“And why would we do that? For all we know, this could be an ambush,” the pink-haired male responds.

Dusk rolls her eyes, sending you a smirk, “Because it would be way too much work to clean all the blood and guts up, plus, we don’t have the resources nor luxury to do that.”

You lightly shake your head, not knowing how her sense of humor was still intact after everything. In other circumstances, you would’ve scolded her, but you weren’t up for chatting at the moment.

Tossing a glance over your shoulder, you lead Arden, Dusk, and the heroes back to the headquarters. This was going to be a long day.

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

“So yer tellin’ me you’re Wild’s descendant? Surprised yer not feral or somethin’,” Twilight mutters, earning an elbow jab from the one referred to as “Wild”.

They seem… brotherly.

Wild turns to you, holding his chin, “Do you… still have the Sheikah Slate? It might be too old now in your era, but-”

You nod, taking out the slate from under your poncho. It was in much worse condition than Wild’s, but it had alterations and had been through a few thousand years.

He hesitantly picks it up from your hands, almost worried that the Slate would wither away from how fragile it felt.

“It looks… different, changed. Does it have new functions?”

Arden points at the screen, “Yeah, Link added a few alternate functions like a more expansive map and the ability to communicate with others.”

“Communicate?”

“A couple other groups across Hyrule have a similar type of slate, though they can only use it to communicate. It’s good for fast and quick communication.”

He nods, examining the slate some more. He shuts it off, handing it back to you.

You choose to ignore the warmth coming from his fingertips.

“It seems you’re advanced in technology, and yet, so rural and primitive. Is there a reason for that?”

Arden looks at you while he speaks, “Well, technology was advancing right up until the Reawakening, and quickly declined after that. We managed to salvage a few things during the event, though a lot of it looks ancient now. Still works, though.”

He shoots you a lop-sided smile, “You should totally see Link’s snowbike though, that thing is a beast.”

Wild raises an eyebrow, “Snowbike? Like the Master Cycle Zero?”

You nod. You forgot he had one of those.

Time buts in, seemingly preoccupied with something else.

“As much as I am curious about your modern advancements, I believe we have more pressing matters at hand. Primarily, why we’re here in your era.”

You nod again, eyeing Arden and Dusk. You needed the room.

Arden walks up to you, murmuring “You sure? I don’t trust them.”

You place a hand on his arm, nodding. He looks down at your hand, eyes flicking between your hand and your eyes. He wanted to say something, but decided to bite his tongue. He wordlessly nods, and both him and Dusk leave you with the group, latching the old door behind him.

You ignore the strange interaction between the both of you, deciding to check up on him after.

You adjust your scarf, pulling it downward so your entire face is visible. The scarf muffled your speech and you were starting to get a bit suffocated with the fabric over your mouth.

“Y-you’re-”

“A female?”

The group seems to go silent at that, emotions ranging from confusion, shock, disbelief, even some excitement from a couple.

Arm over your chest, you kneel on one knee, your head bowed. Taking a small breath, you raspily introduce yourself:

“My name is Link, the Forgotten Hero.”

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

#yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #linked universe au #linked universe x reader #linked universe #false hero au

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fromagony · 3 days

Text

@jegulus-microfic | run - april 21 | 670 words | NSFW

Regulus liked to run away from James, a bit much.

And now he was escaping from him, in the middle of their lovemaking, just to piss him off.

He didn’t know how much James was into their prey-predator foreplay, but he loved to surprise him.

He was in the middle of sucking James off, and then he started to run.

“Regulus!” James screamed behind him, “Where the fuck did you go?”

Regulus had left the house, running in the woods butt naked, and James wasn't any different. This was on his mind the whole day, playing James and expecting the outcome with excitement. He always loved the drill, the unknown. And James was full of surprises. He never failed to amaze him.

“Regulus!”

His voice echoed through the trees while adrenalin flowing in his veins. He ran fast, he didn't even wait to breathe. He was just that curious. This was the first time he pulled something like this on James.

He ran and ran. He didn't know how much he ran until he noticed James stopped screaming after him.

He stopped and looked behind him, not even a single leaf was moving. And then his voice of reason started to creep in. The house was far away, he didn't see anything but trees. And there was no trace of James.

He turned and started to walk towards the Potters Mansion, he even considered shouting James’ name.

He opened his mouth and ended up thrown onto a tree.

“Don't you fucking run away from me.”

James' voice behind him sent chills down his spine. Before relieving, James pushed him onto the tree again, harder this time.

“You want to be chased and fucked, Regulus?”

The tranches were biting into his skin, he was still facing the tree he was pinned against. All he could do was breathe, he couldn't even find his words to speak.

“Jam-”

“Shh,” James shushed, he spread Regulus’ ass cheeks and Regulus’ breath caught. He couldn't believe it, James was following his lead and actually doing it.

Oh, he couldn't be turned on more.

He heard him spitting and right after that, his fingers covered with his saliva caressed his hole and he shivered. They were doing it regularly, he didn't need much preparation but he loved the animosity of it.

“James,” he moaned when James pushed his two fingers into his hole, “Jamie.”

“You get what you deserve, baby.”

He pulled out his fingers and shoved his thick cock in one go. Regulus forgot how to breathe. It hurt, so much. But he loved every second of it.

He tried to hold onto the tree but James didn't let him, he grabbed both of his wrists in one hand and pinned them behind, right above his hips.

He couldn't even think clearly, James pulled out all and shoved it right back in him, bottoming out.

Regulus moaned out loud like a whore.

“Thats right,” James said next to his ear, pinning his cheek to the tree, “Fucking moan for me.”

He couldn't even touch himself, but he was already there, rutting onto the tree like a dog.

“Oh, fuck,” he cried out, trying to seek a friction.

James was fucking him hard, pulling it all out and slamming in him right after. He was at his mercy, and he couldn't think of anything else.

“Fuck, you are tight, it doesn't matter how many times I have to fuck you inside out, you are always tight.”

Regulus choked on his words, “‘s for you— all for you—”

James pressed his head to the tree harder, fucking his ass faster, rougher. He bit his shoulder, he was like a hungry animal, unstoppable.

“James— oh, fuck, right there, right there— faster—”

“Beg for it,” James whispered into his ear and thrust in him faster.

“James,” he warned, but it was no use. He knew it when James got like this.

“Please, please, fuck me faster, I'm begging you.”

“Keep on begging,” James said, smiling sinisterly.

Regulus created a monster.

#jegulus #james potter #jegulus microfic #regulus black #james x regulus #microfic #sunseeker #starchaser

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calebwidgast · 3 days

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the one comment that will always piss me off more than any other, especially when it's coming from so-called legitimate fucking journalists, is the argument that lance doesn't deserve to be in formula 1 because he doesn't care. which first of all, i'm sorry, i didn't realise we had created mind reading technology, that small bit of news must have slipped past me. secondly, it's clearly bullshit.

two weeks before the bahrain gp last year lance had a biking accident where he suffered a fracture and displacement in his right wrist, a fracture in his left wrist, a partial fracture in his left hand and another fracture in the big toe on his right foot.

after which he was told he would be missing the first few races of the 2023 season. but 48 hours after his accident he had surgery to insert pins in his right wrist to help it heal and the doctor who did the surgery told him that with some luck and dedication to his rehab, he could be back for jeddah, maybe bahrain if he worked hard. he clearly wanted to race because 14 days later, he was back in that car in time for the bahrain gp and ended up placing p6 despite being in tremendous pain and feeling like his "wrists were on fire".

does that genuinely sound like someone who doesn't care about the sport to you? especially, as all the lance haters likes to point out, he's fucking rich and doesn't actually need to race. he could have waited until baku like his doctor first suggested and saved himself a whole lot of pain but he wants to race just as much as the other 19 drivers on the grid. the difference between him and the other drivers isn't the fact that he cares less, it's the fact that yes, he is very rich and as such can choose to not cater to the whims of the media if he doesn't want to. the suggestion that him being disinterested in doing interviews is because he doesn't care rather than because he's a private person is just so fucking dumb.

#f1 #formula 1 #lance stroll #i would apologise for going on yet another rant about lance stroll #but i'm not actually sorry so #and if i have to hear another fucking person tell me he should quit formula 1 for fucking tennis #i will explode #i could go on a whole different rant about the fact that lance is more closed off now #BECAUSE of the media and all the shit he's suffered through the years

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missrosegold · 1 day

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someone new

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

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

Word count: 16K

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem!reader)

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

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

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

Title is from Someone New by Hozier

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

Sometimes Touya wonders how he got here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was a joke if he ever fucking heard one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he met you.

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

-----

He remembers the first time he met you.

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

There he had started his rehabilitation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was more relieved than he thought he would be.

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

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

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

He remembers the day you met for the first time.

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

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

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

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

He sat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d grinned at his remark. “No.”

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

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

That caught his attention.

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

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of you? No.”

“You’re shitting me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were lucky you were attractive.

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

“Mr. Todoroki?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what now then?”

“Now we talk I guess.”

“About what?”

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

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

“…fine. Ask away, I guess.”

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… I’ll think about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had been nice. Comfortable, even.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You left.”

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

“Why did you go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want Touya?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. They not in the country, or—”

“We’ll go with that.”

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

“Sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the end, you’d kept your promise.

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

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

Surprisingly, you’d felt the same as him.

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted you to meet his mother and siblings.

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

His father hadn’t been invited for obvious reasons.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

His extensive skin care routine is one of those tasks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re home early.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really missed you; I mean.”

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

“Mmmm.”

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

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

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

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

He rolls his eyes at you. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not today babe, let me do the work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eyes on me gorgeous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m crazy remember?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you were better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know Touya. I’ve always known.”

FIN

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