#the idea that he turned his family but is no longer capable of loving them (or being loved by them) adds a whole extra layer for me

[atmothart]

Wouldn't lizard fashion be something like spikes and scales and a frilled lizard collar?

Like so?

(Bonus art under the cut)

#thank you anon I've been wanting to draw proper lizard fashion for a while and this gave me the motivation I needed #dracula daily #re: dracula #dracula #lizard fashion #The colours I chose here make Drac look like Harry Du Bois - which is appropriate given how I tend to depict his personality in my shitpost #bonus under the cut featuring Dracula's Weed Smorking Girlfriends #personally I really like the theory that the three vampire women are actually dracula's wife and two daughters #since the book never actually calls them his wives and the two subordinate girls are specifically described as looking similar to him #the idea that he turned his family but is no longer capable of loving them (or being loved by them) adds a whole extra layer for me #because he still goes through the motions - goes out to get them food (babies) and provide for them/fulfil the role of a patriarch #but its hollow and loveless and done out of strange obligation/habit - like an echo of being alive #BUT for the sake of comedy I will always draw them as his three weed smorking girlfriends because it's just funnier #or rather as I like to think of them - his three weed smoking EX-girlfriends who spend all day making fun of him and and freeloading #I'm going to tag any art with them in it from here on out as #the ex-wives of dracula #he's going to england to escape their ridicule

[baeshijima]

— perfect

your parents believed you were destined for each other, though it would seem they hadn't taken into account your differing ideals.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1.2k wc, fluff, arranged!marriage au, basically arranged partners-to-strangers-to-lovers, jing yuan in denial until he can... no longer deny it

A/N : this was supposed to be a one paragraph brainrot. what happened.

when you first heard of your prospective marriage partner, you didn't feel all that much for him. granted, there was only so much you could feel when listening to your parents ramble on. he was supposedly the son of a family friend — the ones who served the realm-keeping commission. he was set to graduate the academy in a few months, but that's all you really paid attention to before tuning out.

it wasn't long when you finally met, and you soon discovered you didn't mind him as much as you'd thought. well, that was until you took note of the clear lack of interest he held for you (for anything since you saw him, for that matter). he was aloof, never speaking more than a couple words before turning away and focusing on something else. with the boundaries clear alongside his lack of interest, you decided it wasn't worth the effort. your parents will just have to deal with it.

the next you heard of him was a few months later, the day after his graduation. apparently, he had enlisted into the cloud knights and was now part of their ranks.

your parents called it rebellious, you called it escaping his fate.

you don't see nor hear from him for a couple of years, instead finding out his achievements through gossipmongers and the occasional exaggerated tales you hear on your strolls. at least he's out there making a name for himself and doing what he loves, free and unshackled at the hands of fate.

he bumps into you when he's on patrol on the luofu, and at first he thinks it to be you trying to reach out again, only to be stumped at the uninterested — dare he say, annoyed — look you give him before stalking away in the opposite direction. but he shrugs it off thinking you had a bad day, returning to his duties in maintaining the peace of the luofu.

he runs into you again when you're out food shopping. it's a complete and utter coincidence you're both in the same place once more; you out on errands while he is on duty. oddly enough, he's doused in a wave of peace and content from just watching you from afar, the knowledge that he is capable of protecting you has him prouder than he'd like to admit.

that doesn't last for long, however, for you suddenly shift in place, your expression now more clear than it was earlier. jing yuan's heart stops then, plummeting into an abysmal pit as his eyes zero in on the new expression. your smile is far more beautiful than anything he could ever hope to imagine.

(in a trance, he wonders if you would ever direct that smile towards him.)

it's not until a little later he finds himself wondering about how you're faring, having half the mind to reach out through a letter before ultimately scrapping the idea. after all, he has to focus on his training, not over his arranged partner who probably doesn't even want him after that stunt he pulled all those years ago (he wouldn't either, if he were in your shoes).

and so he ignores the ache in his heart when he spots you from his peripherals. he ignores the urge to abandon his post and remove the bags from your grip and transfer them into his own. he ignores the desire to have a proper conversation with you, one that doesn't result in him being tongue-tied and you annoyed. he ignores the desperation surging through his nerves to hold your hand in front of everyone, wondering what your skin would feel like against his calloused palms.

he ignores it all, and he ignores it well.

so why is it now he finds himself breaking into a sprint after catching a glimpse of your side profile, ignoring the calls of his fellow knights in fear of losing you — the chance to finally speak to you and settle this once and for all because screw it. screw his hesitation, screw his yearning — screw it all!

when he finally reaches you he's at a loss, the words which once seemed so clear in his mind now fizzled out on the tip of his tongue. it's laughable, really, how he's praised for being quick-witted and yet he's reduced to nothing but a gaping mess in your presence. so he just stares at you with a heaving chest, your furrowed countenance making his heart stutter more than it really should.

it's not until you turn to leave that he panics, latching onto your wrist in a last-ditch attempt as a strangled "wait!" flies past his lips. you don't recoil from his touch, so he supposes that's a good thing, even if your glare is anything but that.

"i... i want to apologise for how we started off," he stutters, tripping over his words as he lays himself bare, exposing his heart for you to judge; for you to determine whether he is worthy enough to be by your side. there's so much more for him to say — so much more he wants, no, needs to get off his chest before you slip away yet again.

should he start off with how he could only speak a couple of words when you first met because he feared stumbling over his words and making a fool of himself? or should he say he wanted to build up his courage before facing you, and that part of his reasoning to join the knights was in hopes of finding that? (although it was a bit of a belated realisation, but no one's keeping track!) oh, or should he start off with—

"is that all you have to say?" your voice is smoother than he last remembers, though maybe it's the fact he's only ever heard you speak directly to him a couple of times, having heard your voice when on patrol more than he has face to face. if it weren't for you clearing your throat, jing yuan would have forgotten to answer.

he quickly snaps himself out of his trance, pushing down the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. "if it's alright with you, would you..." he gulps in apprehension, chest constricting as he fumbles to regather his thoughts. he sucks in a breath and lifts his head to meet your gaze, revelling in your slightly widening eyes. "if it's alright with you, would you like to start over again?"

silence ripples between you after his words. can you hear his heart hammering behind his sternum? can you see his breaths quicken in anticipation? can you feel his hand become unbearably warm against the skin of your wrist?

oh god he hopes not.

but then your voice ceases his thoughts, your amused smile doing little to help his above mentioned symptoms. "i'm [name]. it's nice to meet you," your voice trails off a little, and he doesn't bother hiding the growing smile when he realises what you're doing.

and so he eagerly plays along, losing himself in the warmth you provide when you slip your hand into his.

"i am jing yuan. and... likewise, [name]."

(jing yuan decides the sensation of your skin against his calloused palms is unlike anything he's felt before. if he had to put it into words, he would say it's perfect.)

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #jingyuan x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #jing yuan x you #jingyuan x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines

[rrickgrrimes8]

Skater

summary: crossing over a frozen lake shouldve been a simple task - not with a tonya harding fan

Joel Miller x platonic!reader -- gn!reader, except Joel calls reader babygirl

warnings: almost drowning, near death experience, angst, hurt/comfort, father figure! Joel, soft Joel

masterlist

request guidelines (new)

requests are open!

word count: 1.2k

Trailing behind Joel and Ellie, you hum an unfamiliar tune. You walked to the beat, hands flowing as the nameless song played through your mind. Joel shot you a look, rolling his eyes and told you to hurry up. 

You ignored him though and found yourself mesmerized by the snowy landscape. You had never seen this before – well you’d never seen anything before really. Growing up inside the QZ in a brainwashing school by FEDRA didn’t exactly allow you to see the world like you so desperately wanted to. It was as beautiful as you imagined. 

Yes, there was infected, clickers, raiders, bloaters but none of that mattered as you walked through the forest with your new family. You had lost another part of your family months prior - Henry and Sam - and your heart still ached for them. Ellie’s did too. Joel, on the other hand, was stoney and stoic as usual. 

The teen stared ahead at the frozen over lake, a frown on you face. “We’re going over this?” 

Joel grunted in response, stepping forward to show them it was okay. 

Ellie went next, holding out her hand for you. “We’re okay,” She assured, “C’mon.” 

You sucked in a harsh breath and nodded, taking your first of many steps. 

“Did you ever ice skate, Joel?” You asked, slipping as you did. 

Joel quirked a brow and glanced over his shoulder, “How do you know about ice skating?” 

“Books,” You shrugged, “Found a book on Tonya Harding.” 

“Christ, haven’t heard that name in a while,” He chuckled. 

“Who was she?” Ellie spoke up, confused. 

“Ice skater… amongst other things,” He told them. 

“So have you?” You repeated, eyes flickering to either side of the lake – where the sun was falling and the bright hue was getting lost behind the terrain. 

“I have,” He confessed, “Once or twice.” 

“Really?” You perked up, “What was it like?” 

“Slippy,” He remarked, trudging over the ice – halfway at this point. 

“Sick,” The teen muttered, “I woulda loved to, you know?” 

“Still time, kid,” He shot you an earnest look before grunting, “We should speed this up though, lights going.” The teens nodded, Ellie quickening so she was closer to Joel. 

You stayed slightly behind though, willing yourself to glide rather than walk on the ice. Joel said there was still time and there’s no time like the present, right? 

You let your right foot lead, stumbling on your first go but quickly catching yourself. You tried again, soon after, and slid for way longer. “Joel, Ellie look,” You exclaimed, ready to do it again. 

“Just walk, kid,” He rolled his eyes, not sparing you a glance. Ellie too continued to walk on, arms wrapping around her chest to warm her. 

Pouting slightly, you paused before forming a perfect idea – you just needed to catch up to them and then they’d see. You straightened your back, lifted your foot from the ground before heavily stomping it down and began to glide, faster than before. 

It was going well at first – maybe a little clumsy as you closed in on the oblivious pair. 

But then you heard a crack, and without even a second to call for Joel, you felt a rush of cold, painful water. 

Ellie sighed as they neared the ¾ mark, turning to speak to her friend – breath catching in her throat when she heard the same crack. She snapped her gaze to you but felt an overwhelming fear grip her when she realized all there that was left was an empty space and a gaping hole in the ice. 

Having not heard, Joel continued, only stopping when he heard Ellie screaming your name. Wasting no time, he span to face them but was only met with Ellie, who was sprinting over to a hole in the ice. “No,” He shuddered, realization hitting him. 

Joel ran faster than he thought he was capable in that moment. His breathing was heavy in his chest, ears ringing – missing the panicked yells from Ellie – and collapsed beside the hole. He called your name, shakily and frantically – hand plunging into the freezing water, struggling to grab you. Joel felt a strange sensation overwhelm his chest – a fear he hadn’t felt since he lost Sarah. 

Forcing back some tears, he dived into the abyss – Ellie screaming as he did. He had forgotten how hard it was to open your eyes underwater but he ignored the burning and searched for a glimpse of you. And it didn’t take long. You were there – still, unmoving, corpselike. He almost let out a sob as he saw you – pushing against the liquid and pulling you into his arms. 

Joel got the pair of you out the water quickly, lying you against the ice as Ellie watched in fear, tears welling up. Looking at you then, Joel felt as if he was too late and maybe he was – he eyed your chest, motionless. It didn’t rise or fall, and your eyes didn’t open. 

The world seemed to vanish for a moment for Joel. His vision blurred and his body moved on autopilot. Hands finding your chest, he began to beat down on it – recalling briefly some first aid training he received 30 years ago. You didn’t move as he continued the chest compressions. 

“C’mon, baby,” He cried for what felt like the first time in 20 years (it probably was), “Come back to me. Come back, babygirl.” 

You looked dead, Ellie thought as she observed Joel’s attempts at saving you. She thought it was almost futile, that Joel couldn’t do a damn thing now and that terrified her. 

Lips finding yours, he forced a breath into your lungs, causing you to begin to splutter. Joel delicately, moved you onto your side as you continued to cough up the murky water. He let himself exhale as he helped you – you were here, you were alive, you were breathing. 

“Oh baby,” He called out to you, pulling you close to his chest. You seemed at once surprised by his actions before sinking into it soon after. The heat from his body radiated, quelling the shivers that didn’t seem to die down. “You’re okay,” He croakily voiced, more to himself than them, “Oh, babygirl, you’re okay.” You nodded against his chest. 

Ellie called out your name, tearfully and joined the pair of them, hand holding yours. “I thought you were dead, asshole,” She laughed but it seemed hollow – the comment far to genuine. 

“I-I wanted to skate,” You told them, “I w-was doing i-it.” 

“And you can’t do that again okay,” Joel scolded, “Damn near gave me a heart attack… no, you can’t do that to me- to us again.” 

“O-okay,” You shook, eyes closing as you snuggled into his chest. 

“Hey, b-baby,” He tapped your cheek, “You stay awake… keep your eyes on me.” 

You frown, groaning as your eyes felt so heavy, “S-so tired.” 

“Not yet, okay, baby?” Joel stressed, getting up – Ellie following with their bags on her shoulders, “We gotta get you warm first, okay?” 

“O-okay,” You mumbled, voice dazed and confused, “T-Thanks for s-saving me d-dad.” 

He inhaled sharply, more tears falling but he couldn’t bring himself to respond – the lump forming in his throat. All that mattered was getting you better. 

All that mattered was your life.

#joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller x platonic!reader #ellie williams x platonic!reader #joel miller x gn!reader

[overtaken-stream]

Do you have any writing plans involving Katakuri or the Big mom pirates?

Monster's Voice Is Sweet To Hear

Charlotte Katakuri x F!Wife!Reader

! !NSFW! !

This is from ao3, last year, sorry for any grammar mistakes, as well as my different writing, this is also the first time I wrote filth, aside from the love-making in the Ace fic from Ao3. I want to write something for him but the ideas are just not coming to me. I also didn't specify readers race. Just that it's a female and tall/stronger then a human since we all know Big Mom won't just toss away Katakuri and make him marry a boring human with no specialties. this could work on all shapes and sizes of reader, chubby and skinny.

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: Rarely in the dead of night, a monster such as Katakuri needs love. It's something you can't say no to. After all, how can you deny that unnerving voice of his.

Warnings: Size difference, POST-WANO SPOILERS, multiple rounds.

In the quiet night, where only the humming of your voice is heard.

Light from the cake-inspired lamp bounces off the pink walls the shadow that's in a silhouette of a woman falls onto the giant bed in the center of the room.

On a quiet night, a married girl takes her jewelry off and places it in one of the drawers the magenta bureau contains.

You stand up from the chair, getting closer to the bed. Getting out of your clothes and putting on a modified (F/C) nightgown, you straighten the hot pink details running over your tall figure as you lie down on the heavenly bed.

Only at the sound of a door opening did you quickly get under the blanket. The sound of metal and leather rubbing against itself notifies you of the person who walked in before they can even say anything.

``(Y/N).``

``Katakuri.`` You shyly show your face from the covers to see the sight of your husband of 3 years now, even after all this time you can feel the blush creeping up your face, no matter how long you will never get used to seeing a man that's able to look down at you. That stoic and firey gaze always unleashed the butterflies deep inside your belly.

``I apologize for startling you, I've seemed to... Be distracted lately.`` This was his way of saying I forgot to knock on the door. With much time you start to learn the ways of Katakuri's speech patterns. Start to recognize what words his pride was holding back even from you. Apologetic wasn't one of them. It isn't like he's trying to hide something after all you've seen his biggest weakness in action multiple times, gobbling all kinds of sweets. But never have you thought forgetting was something Katakuri was capable of. It wasn't until after the incident at Pudding's wedding involving the Strawhats that Katakuri's mask, which he had been carrying since marrying you (probably much, much longer than that) truly shattered. Thanks to his younger sister Flampe not keeping her mouth shut about how horrid her big brother is physically and then about his treatment towards her, after what she did. The brat even tried to approach you to run her tongue about Katakuri. Your husband.

Honor is off the table when faced with a person with that kind of mindset. Never mind the respect when facing a worthy opponent.

``Mind if I join you?``

``No, not at all.`` You smile as you watch him carefully get out of his uniform. Never did you imagine you would smile at Katakuri, compared to the sad bride and groom the two of you were. The new life treated you both kindly, it wasn't fast but it wasn't slow-paced either.

The stiff and awkward interactions turned into small conversations about interests and they blossomed into what can only be fondness. The road came with its fare-share of bumps, and both of you dived head first in this with only your families in mind, ready to throw away what little freedom both of you had for your parent's satisfaction.

At the wedding ceremony, walls were built. Walls that cracked the more time you spent with each other.

``Y'know, Luffy was announced as an Emperor today.`` You fill in the silence. Knowing Katakuri's favorite topic you slide in the information.

Katakuri stops mid-changing and raises his head at that. He had told you about Luffy a couple of weeks ago, finally emptying his head to you about the topic he was trying to tell you the moment he returned to your room injured. You didn't push him back then.

The time will come when he'll bring it up. You would tell yourself. It's his calculations of reactions that hold him, little insecurities eating him up and even if the conversation was late, you are happy that he was finally opening up. To you at least.

``Is that so?``

``Yeah, it was in today's newspaper. It said he defeated Kaidou, impressive huh?``

You watch as he nods his head. You debate for a second if you should tell him the next sentence, but he is her son, after all, today he dedicated himself to the library (A time he cherishes since it happens so rarely. A battle with the Straw Hat sure tired him out. You wonder if it's a blessing in disguise sometimes. If it is you wouldn't be surprised.) and judging from his lack of knowledge about the feat Luffy accomplished, you might as well tell him now...

``Surgeon of Death and The Eustass kid from the Worst Generation were involved... They defeated Big Mom.`` At that, you can feel how the temperature drops in the room, his movements to put the clothes back in their place slowed down until they came to a stop. It almost felt like time had stopped.

``I've heard about that. All the commotion in the palace this morning was from Perospero's call. They needed a backup to retrieve them.`` He says as the heavyweight is lifted off the room, letting go of the fabric he was holding onto, the time begins to roll once again.

You don't bat an eye at Katakuri's actions and his casualness. You doubt he would mourn his mother.

You quiver as the blanket is thrown off of you, the chill biting your arms and chest before he joins you on the bed. You fix your body position as the natural warmth his body carries sends shivers down your spine. Your back facing his chest as his giant hand creeps up to cradle your waist.

You shy away or try to. But the moment his fingers softly graze your pelvis, a tight knot starts developing, his shy yet soothing and careful touches sending the blood up to your face.

He's mindful of his heaviness, even if you are taller than a human should be, more tolerant and powerful, he treats you the same as he would to his child siblings, with feather-light touches. It's instinct at this point. It makes you nervous. Makes you red and sad, as well as happy that he also wasn't the only one with bad habits.

Habits that differentiate you two are rare. Since most of them are dependent on higher-than-an-average-human height.

``Is this okay?`` his open eyes travel over your face devoid of any skin color except red. You nod.

``...May I?`` The awkwardness in his voice is precious. Sweet as a mochi should be. Not how a monster's should be.

It makes your heart skip a beat and your core to pulse.

The impatience takes over when he's leaving lingering touches closer and closer to where you would like the itchiness to go away. The temptation to grab his hand and drag it to your genitalia is strong. Biting the bottom lip you feel his hand cup your crotch, and it's a feeling you'll never get tired of.

He shoves the gown's bottom piece up to your belly button, getting the cue you grab the (F/C) silky cloth. It's tacky but it was one of the more subtle ones that Brûlée has picked for you.

You shift your left thigh to the side when the tips of his finger flex on top of your clitoris, a thin layer of fabric stopping him from intruding, yet he is still making you pulse and drowning you in the electric shock of pleasure. The fingers slowly run over it, again and again putting no pressure behind the movement.

When his right-hand digs behind your back, your flushed face barely turns around to ask him what he is doing.

``Changing position...`` Katakuri says as he carefully scoops your neck between his forearm and upper arm, his left hand grabs onto your right hip.

His show of strength as he gets you on top of him in a second, leaves your knees shaking. At first, you lay on his chest with your back pressed against him.

Even with your superior height he somehow manages to make you feel as if you were a human, it makes you doubt your reality for a millisecond, his right hand balancing you and the other one going down your body a bit too fast, your suspicions are confirmed by the impatience with which he tosses the blanket off of your bodies. The room temperature now no longer poses a threat to your skin.

This time he isn't as slow with his actions, leaving the undergarments on, he rubs up and down your slit, feeling its warmth escape onto his sweaty hands.

The quiet room was momentarily full of little gasps and beating hearts of both parties. A squeak leaves your mouth as you rise from your position on his chest, leaning on your elbows that are still... On his chest. The coldness that sudden separation brings on your back is forgotten as you look down to where Katakuri is making laps around you. The moisture grows in seconds when he presses his thumb on your clit, slowly rocking it sideways and tightening the knot deep within you.

You try to bite the bottom of your mouth to not let the noises escape but as Katakuri flattens his hand so his index and middle finger are sliding and tickling your entrance, the task to stay quiet becomes very difficult. You feel the way he snakes his second hand up your breasts while the other separates the undergarment from your folds. Little moans sneak past your lips as you look straight down, the bulge that shows from underneath your thighs just makes your heart beat out of your ribcage.

Katakuri lays his forehead on your shoulder as he feels the wetness coating the surroundings of your entrance, he knew the smaller hands were coming before feeling them pull down the owner's panties, momentarily stopping for her to take it off before he continued infiltrating it. His right hand fondling with your breasts squishing them but not rough enough to hurt you.

For a split second, you felt the pain of the stretch, arching your back and tossing your head over his shoulder as Katakuri's other hand played with the silk-covered nipple, he pushed his forehead down on your cleavage, it wasn't in his intentions but the size difference was really making your mind mushy.

You could feel him shaking from below you as you rest on top of him, closed eyes and clean mind absorbing your movements.

For a couple of seconds, you lay like that, panting breathes and already sweat covered. He won't move. He won't hurt you. He'll give you time to adjust.

Your hand lands on his crimson hair, fingers run through the short pink layers devoid of grey. It startles him, eyes snapping open he looks to his left shoulder where you are resting your head and meets his beloved's smiling face staring back at him.

Pink dusted his cheeks and as his heart jumped, his mouth opened and closed, this nervous feeling is shameful to him. The big brother Katakuri was still getting used to his new-not-so-new feelings towards new-not-so-new his wife, and expressing them to her face turned out to be the most complicated and difficult part. (Aside from Brûlée, she has seen him at his worst. It's a new feeling, a new type of embarrassment he hasn't experienced with anyone, not even Brûlée. The thought of this ever getting out almost frightens him. It frightens him.)

At last, he chooses to look away as you chuckle.

``C-can you move now?`` He nearly forgot.

``Are you... Sure?``

``Yeah, now c'mon... I was so close...``

He continues his motions with soft pink shades over his face, and slowly the two fingers slide deeper into your gummy walls. The clenching makes him wish it was some other part of his inside of you instead of his fingers. He listens as hisses leave your lips from the painfully nice stretch, the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes being wiped away by Katakuri's other hand that took a break from playing with your breasts, he feels his boxer get tighter when your legs shake around his massive thighs, for a second he feels glad that you aren't super tiny, it makes this feel like the first time both of you did it. It holds a special place in his heart, the lovely touches have never been that satisfying. And every time you take your time to show affection to him during it- he falls further and further in love with you. Even if he doesn't show it, or return them, he appreciates the gestures.

He knows it's time to start the actions of love and that you would certainly never reject it. It's the childish fear keeping his head and eyes locked away during them. Is he shy? Maybe. Does he wan't to return the gesture? Some would think that he doesn't.

The whimpering noises fill his head as he finally went in knuckle deep, he lifts his head from your cleavage and brings your face closer for a kiss, eating the deep moan that leaves your mouth when he pulls out his finger and pushes it back into the warmth. Watching with open eyes how your eyebrows point up in pleasure twisting into a lustful picture he'll love for the rest of his life. The fact that he is the only one who's allowed to see it makes his head dizzy with what other expressions he could steal from you.

He slowly fastens his pace, making and leaving your walls a mess before he gets back in and fixes it with his fingers, finding that spongey spot was easy, having it memorized Katakuri curves his fingers upwards and pistons into it, barely taking his fingers out.

One after another lustful noises (now louder than ever) escape before you can bite your tongue. At some point, drool started coming out of your mouth. Eyes closed you can feel how Katakuri milked your sweet spot brutally, making your cunt weep and sting oh so impossibly delightfully.

His hand and your thights are all wet now.

``Just aah little m-more...!``

You were so close. So incredibly close.

The moment Katakuri forced his hand to dig deeper in your cunt, to get past the line of his knuckles, and pushed upwards into your belly, forcing you to arch for him harder was the moment you were seeing stars.

Your closed eyes were going into your head and your wide mouth was slack as he held your hip with one hand and rubbed your clit faster than ever with the other one. Throwing you off the edge and finally loosening the knot that was tied at the start, slick now not-so-unclear dribs down your slit, he doesn't let you have a break, hand still accompanying you even after your orgasm.

You don't complain.

He slowly pushes your pelvis down with his forearm to meet his hips, not slowing his fast-paced rubbing. Your moans are now as free as they can be, but you limit yourself, wanting to hear little grunts and deep slow moans from Katakuri. You honestly think you could cum from his voice alone.

He's beautiful you think.

His eyes are closed, the furrowing thin eyebrows holding onto the sweat drops that are covering his face in a thin layer of gloss. His eyes are closed yet he seems so concentrated to make you cum again. The vein in his forehead is on full display for you. His naturally long eyelashes adorned his hooded eyes.

``You're Beau...tiful... Kata...``

The way he hides his mouth in your cleavage and not in your shoulder because of his big size, the way he is avoiding eye contact the moment you whispered those two words. The way your heart shattered, is like no other pain you've felt. Because this boy is so... So incredibly sad. You want to kiss the pain away, the worries to be crushed under your tall figure. You want to shield him because he deserved so much more than this family.

``Sooo pretty... C-can you look...at me?`` Exhausted, you reach out.

You don't pay attention to the second orgasm, too busy complimenting him about his beauty. You miss how he is rutting his clothed hips right on your naked ass. You don't miss how he turns his face to the opposite side from you, you don't miss the red-colored ears as you hug his neck. Biting his ears as you are getting closer yet again. You notice how he's gone quiet the moment you praised him. How he is listening to your moans right in his ear.

Suddenly he crashes his hips into you, stinging sensations of him losing grip on his strength lays mockingly on the prints he has branded on both sides of your hips. Even if you were drowning in an indescribable pleasure you didn't miss the way he threw his head back, he almost roars a held-back-moan as wetness spreads on your ass. You don't have to look down to know that both of you guys's cum is wetting the sheets below.

Did he cum by pleasuring you?

Shit... That's so... Hot.

You've known there were ten million ways to love somebody and this. This was one of them.

Katakuri relaxes on the pillow behind him, coming down from the high he tossed both of you in, your arms still around his neck. He opens his eyes looking down at your face, It's a mess really, with sweat and hair sticking on your forehead, swollen lips from the previous kiss (he spends extra seconds looking and feeling the breasts resting against his own skin) but it doesn't matter to him, all he sees are the fruits of his labor. He finally removes his hands from your hips, his gaze falling on a now-covered-by-your-nightgown spot.

Did he leave a mark?

A giggle escapes from your lips before you can stop it, earning a playful glare from his direction. What's so funny?

``Aha-I'm sorry, it's just. You're so red!`` He looks through you, unfocusing his eyes before turning his (now red from embarrassment) face away from you.

You rub your cheek against him, feeling the stitch scars that lead to his mouth hole.

``Awh! C'mon don't hide from me!``

``...You're getting brave (Y/N)...``

``I don't have to be brave to call my husband beautiful and handsome! Plus you're so cute right now!``

``I'm not cute...``

``Sure you're not.`` You're pushing it. You are sure as hell not sure where this confidence came from but you aren't complaining.

Putting your hand under his chin and turning his face toward you.

His eyes settle on your lips before you pull yourself up to make your (S/C) lips land on his monstrous mouth. Like a beast, he doesn't close his eyes, unlike you.

Yet again choosing to make up for the time he closed his eyes during the sex. Staring into your wet eyelashes.

His left arm drags you so impossibly closer to his chest, in a hug while his other hand puts a strand of (H/C) hair back over your ear. When you try to pull away he follows your lips down. Cherishing the strawberry residue that the lipstick left.

A couple of moments last of you two in a romantic kiss before it turns into playful pecks across each other faces. Katakuri was careful with his fangs, still getting used to having someone get as close as he was to the white knives. He calls them and judging from the sharpness you can't exactly call him wrong.

It lasts like that for more than necessary. The sweet touches turned harsh from him is a normal feeling for you, pain tolerance is one of your specialties. It's in your blood. There is nothing he could do from the outside that could hurt you. From the inside, it's a different story.

It's the reason why Charlotte Linlin chose you to be the bride for her second son.

``He's a monster in humans skin,`` She said.

``Better have that scarf around you at all times Katakuri, don't frighten the soon-to-be bride.``  She said at one of the tea parties she had invited your family over.

It was humiliating for him to hear those words, let alone in front of a different kingdom's royal family. Those words were enough for you to have an opinion set on Big Mom.

And Katakuri too. It was respect, you respected him for putting up with people like his mother daily. Another thing to add in the similarities chart besides the height.

``Don't you think your genetic powers would make lovely children for my boy here darling? Wouldn't that be wonderful?``

You pity the children you have to give birth to. Because you know it will happen.

Her piercing gaze and a change in tone was the only reason you nodded your head. It was how the entire party went actually, with you acting like one of Big Mom's homies. Bobbing your head to every compliment she would say about you and your powers.

Maybe that's what left a sour taste in Katakuri's mouth. Why he avoided you for a couple of months after the wedding, he probably saw you as a fragile bimbo who was swayed by fear.

You would hate to say it but the truth is always hard to swallow.

It was what you were before the wedding and after. No doubt about that. The fear of upsetting a bomb that was Big Mom terrified you to your core. You could take Katakuri ignoring and avoiding you but you could never say no to them, the strings she had on your family were too tightly tied around their necks to risk it. Not to mention the thousands of people's lives each of your family member represented.

``The more you fuck around the more you're gonna find out`` As your diplomat father would say in all kinds of situations. It's just that in this instance it wasn't comedic.

It was a psychological thriller. And fucking around you couldn't.

It was a sad start to your relationship with him, an unwanted marriage both of you were against at first, maybe in another lifetime one of you would have had a voice to protest it. But for now, you enjoy the soft embrace of his arms around your shoulders. A loud banging of his heart against your ear.

The chill of the aftermath leaving your body and replacing it with a sticky feeling between your crotch and the smell of sex that wasn't visible at the time.

``Well then, don't you want to clean yourself up?``

``No, I don't.``

``W-why not?`` Usually, Katakuri loves his cleanliness, organization, and tidiness. He showers after coming home, often he's the one running to the bathroom with towels in his hands before you can even process that you've arrived home.

``...I just don't want this to end.``

``... You...`` And you thought Katakuri had run out of his surprise factor. It makes you want to toss your feet in the air with tiny kicks, giggles and everything, it makes you blush.

Seriously? Why are you acting like a schoolgirl with a crush on her upperclassmen?! Have you lost all your marbles in you, woman?! Where is the royal blood?!

You can practically feel the inner, secondary or tiny voice in your head yelling at you.

``Y... You do...?`` Unbelievable.

A nod from him is all you need.

``Y'know, we don't... Have to end it...``

``What?`` God his obliviousness makes you want to strangle him.

``We can... Continue it instead...I-i mean... If you... Want..?`` You run your index finger over his chest, tracing the tattoo with half-lidded eyes and lips in a kissing position. If this isn't lustfull, you don't know what is.

``...``

``...``

``... We can?`` His shocked eyes leave you once again, speechless.

``Of... Of course, we can! If you have any energy left that is... What made you think that we couldn't..?``

Sex is something that rarely happens between you and him since both of you most of the time are sent out for missions separately, however, If your memories aren't lying to you there are a total of four times (not counting this one) that you guys have slept together. How many times did he want to cuddle after sex? 2 times? 3 times?

Such a bad wife you've been to him.

WHAT DON'T THINK LIKE THAT!

Your questions go unanswered. Instead, he gently turns you onto your back, his hands balancing himself like a pole, they shut off your field of vision 'till you can't look anywhere instead up.

And up you look.

You think it's a sight any fair lady would go feral over. So what if you've seen this many times before, it never fails to make you nervous, the confidence dripping off of him, even if shaky eyesight proves just how unconfident he is.

Swoon over him you do.

The feeling you got at the start of the night coming back ten times stronger and filling up your heart until it's back to the pace it was before, this time maybe even shaking sideways for dramatic or. romantic effect.

Your breathing quickens as his head follows his body that was leaning on his thighs which were usually heavy with accessories of any kind, mostly following his gothic style with minor changes. Now he stands on top of your legs with his free-of-any-weight ones, caging yours with his knees. He has a charm in the way he travels his hand down on your skin, giant fingers ghosting over the most sensitive of places. The size difference isn't much but staring at your squished thighs and comparing it to the thickness of his knees makes your breath hitch, gulping you look up towards his face.

Katakuri's sharp crimson eyes glimmer down at you.

He had never once failed to make you feel so unbelievably small under his gaze, you find this exact moment perfect to take off your sticky nightgown that's wet with substances from both of your bodies. It turns out to be a good hiding device for your face, too bad it only lasts a couple of seconds before Katakuri gets suspicious.

Once over your head, you toss the (F/C) fabric somewhere on the floor. Presenting your fully naked body to him.

You don't know when or how he got the boxer off, but he now stands in all of his glory. One would think he was flexing his muscles, and he was. With how heavily Katakuri was breathing, you would have run your fingers up his tattoo if he didn't grab your legs first, taking them out of his leg jail, it was an awkward struggle to pull them over his thighs but he managed to not stretch it out for too long.

It felt so right, you against him fitting like puzzle pieces, your warm legs clinging onto his hips that are the perfect fit for your long legs.

It's your fantasy coming to life and so is his.

Katakuri pulls your hips near his pelvis to get you in a comfortable position. His fingers play with your now relaxed entrance. His other hand strokes his sex in front of you.

Shyness is thrown out of the window.

``I'll... Be slow.`` He always says that. But he can not help the roughness come into play the moment you get used to having him inside you.

You shiver as his head presses against your folds, hiss as it's slowly getting past the cold surface and into the warmth your insides bring. You hear him let out a grunt of his own. The shakiness of his hands on your hips calms the arch your back has been put into.

Katakuri pushes in with slow motions.

He tries to distract you will little strokes up and down your arched back.

You try to not tense up, you really do, but his fingers weren't enough for you to have been ready for his cock. It has that extra length and thickness his fingers weren't capable of having.

The sting leaves you panting and watery-eyed.

Katakuri looks down at you, completely stopping his actions when the walls around his girth close his pathway to bliss.

He lets you relax and adjust to his length. Looking at your face when you wipe your not-yet-spilled tears. Feeling the walls grip and loosen around him makes him close his eyes, ignoring the sparks of pleasure that are signaling him to just rut into you. He turns his face back to you, opening his eyes.

Katakuri doesn't ask you to relax, he knows you're already doing that and he knows you'll signal him to move onward, there is no need to remind you of what's obvious. So he stays quiet, humming and touching you elsewhere across your body, a gentleness he didn't know was capable of, coming forward and dripping honey over your pain, sugarcoating it with his lips that are kissing up your neck.

You put your hands over his shoulders, feeling the pain go away only for it to be replaced by numbness. calming down you nod your head against his scarred cheek.

``You can go on... Now.`` And he does. Slowly and surely with the help of the previous round. He bottoms out.

Your walls surround him, while his grunts surround your head. Both of you stay still for a moment, him going back to kissing your shoulder while you hug his neck, lost in ecstasy.

The world is summed down to only him and you, even if you are running your eyes on the walls of the room, you're still breathing in his leftover cotton cologne, lingering on his skin for just a bit longer.

He starts moving, god he starts moving.

Rocking into you slower than ever, stickiness in your crotch area goes unnoticed. The feeling of him moving and dragging the pleasure away only for him to slide back in, adding the rubbing against your clit with his shortened pubes is soul-shattering in a pleasing way, making your brain mush and your mouth full of unholy sounds.

Sweat dribbles down the side of his face still buried in your shoulder. He is not a man who leaves hickeys. Even though It's impossible since he can't exactly hurt you, although he enjoys leaving marks with anything else, they don't last long, only a couple of minutes before it's back to the way your skin was. But he likes having your signatures on his back especially since that's the only place covered by his jacket in the public.

Even now you leave tiny trails with your nails on his back, not strong enough to break the skin but just enough for them to look like a part of his tattoo gone wild. it just sums up more blood on the southern side of his body, getting him harder than he was before.

It's too much for you when he starts setting a fast pace, his hips meeting yours midway through your grinding, it's too much you tell yourself.

The way he is holding his wide torso with his elbows right beside your shoulders since you didn't let go of his neck since you grabbed it. You feel silly, sticking yourself onto him this way but he doesn't have any complaints. Even if it's too much how you cum yet again with shaky legs and slick dripping down your crack and onto your arched back. Too much of him rocking into you. The mattress below you squicking and rocking with his thrusts. Not only the mattress, but his thrusts also drag your entire body with him, meeting him halfway through his pulling. Too much moaning coming from your side, it's too good.

Too good to tell him to stop.

You can't tell when you came again, the shakiness is blending in with his hips crashing into yours, and you can't tell what is your natural body's doing and what is Katakuri making your body do.

Him finding the sweet spot was the last thing you wanted him to do. You wanted him to find it.

But judging from the electricity hitting you full force again and again and again, making you cry out in all kinds of movements to push him away, you can't be sure.

Katakuri takes advantage of your vulnerability and pulls you away from him so you could relax on the light pink pillow almost swallowing you whole. Allowing him to thrust at a slightly different angle, an angle that also relieves tension from your back.

He straightens himself, now standing on his knees as he looks down at where your bodies are connected, he lands his hands on your hips setting an almost inhuman pace you aren't able to keep up with.

Not with your body and not with your mind.

He pays no attention to your face, you've had enough of that before. Instead, he watches as his hands slam your hips to him, and your poor clit swollen and sad, lies helplessly. Taking him with no problems.

``A-ah little more..`` he moans out. You want to cry at how much he wants to drag this out.

You can tell by the way his hips stutter before calming down completely, going back to the slow pace he did at the beginning.

It's too much.

``Katah-kuri, please!-`` Your voice cuts off by a scream that left your mouth when he slammed his hips back into you unexpectedly.

You can hear him chuckle lightly at your trembling figure lying under him.

It's like he is teasing you and himself.

Tears drip down your face as he repeats it a few times more, before grinding his pelvis when fully entering you cleanly. Your abused cunt beats against the few pubes it has stuck in the wetness surrounding it.

He doesn't let your wobbly legs slide down his thighs, holding them harshly and not letting your bottom parts get away from him.

You can feel it before it comes. The way a vein in his dick starts pulsing and throbbing. Filling your insides to the brim.

You don't look down, instead, you pay attention to Katakuri's Addams apple bobbing up and down in his thick throat accompanied by sweat drops, the way his heavy jaw comes up and down, and the way his eyes are closed and tensed as are his eyebrows. How the other shoulder free of any tattoo (one which you were previously gnawing on) is red colored. It's shiny with spit, tears, and sweat.

It's as far as you get before your heart finally calms down, forcing your eyes to close and your body to pass out, exhaustion finally catching up to you. The last thing you see is a blurry figure of Katakuri looking down at you.

His worried voice calls out to you.

And here you thought you could endure a monster's sweet voice.

#Katakuri x wife reader #wife reader #Katakuri x wife!reader #one piece #anime #one piece spoilers #one piece x reader #.my writing. #op katakuri #katakuri x you #katakuri x y/n #katakuri x reader #anime x reader

[lenavonschweetz]

Hunter Insert

Dean Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: You really didn’t mean to, but somehow you’d stumbled upon something called Tumblr - and in turn fanfiction. You may or may not get addicted to reader inserts featuring your favorite teammate. You may or may not get caught.

Warnings: Smut, second-hand embarrassment, adorable Dean, fanfiction cliches, fanfiction cliches turned on their heads, fluffy smut.  It’s ok (and quite adorable, honestly) to laugh during sexytimes.

A/N: This is just a reworking of one of my most popular Bucky x reader fics!  Tweaked for the Supernatural world and storyline. No Beta, so be kind!

You’d had a thing for Dean Winchester for longer than you could remember.

It probably all started when you met Sam Winchester at school.  The tall goober took to you immediately.  Your calming presence and warm smile lured him in and you became fast friends, giving Sam a bond he hadn’t felt in a long time.  You were the only one he trusted enough to tell the truth about his family and their business.  He spoke of his older brother with bucket loads of admiration, though he would never admit it to the man in question.  When he told stories of their shenanigans back in the day, his eyes would light up but then his smile would fall just as quickly when he also recalled his father.  You fell in love with the idea of a man glorious enough to make even displaced, ‘unwanted’ (his words, not yours), and jaded Sam smile like the kid he never got to be.

They say reality never lives up to the stories, but lord almighty were they wrong.

You first met Dean when the business of his dad’s disappearance was in full swing.  A regular weekly movie night at Sam and Jessica’s place having turned tense when an unknown figure had broken in.  You remember your eyes had wandered to his dark figure, speaking to Sam in hushed tones, head reeling as you realized this was the man who haunted your dreams. The infamous older brother and monster hunter, Dean Winchester.

You hadn’t believed in love at first sight, but the way his impossibly hazel eyes made your heart clench… Well, there was no denying this is exactly what was happening.  

After Jessica had died you sat out the first leg of their search for their father, wanting to let them catch up.  It wasn’t until after their father was long dead, and the apocalypse was well on its way that you joined back in - or rather, were dragged back in.  Being the only woman currently in Sam’s life - though platonically, of course - the universe seemed to have it out for you and after having to save you from demons at least twice, the brothers claimed teaching you how to defend yourself and dragging you along with them would be safer than leaving you to whatever fate there was to be had.  You even became an incredibly capable hunter.  Though this was all after Sam had effectively ended the world with a demon lover who screwed him over, Dean died then came back thanks to the help of an angel - Castiel - who joined in your asinine little game, and the apocalypse really started.  Because life with the Winchesters was never simple.

And through all your years together, there was always the looming reality - or rather, fantasy - of the Supernatural books by Chuck Shurley.

At first, the fans were harmless.  There was the convention incident where reality and fantasy got a little too close, but Chuck assured you he was going to stop writing the books.  

He lied, obviously.

Still, the fandom was mostly benign - and rather small, actually, with only some fanatics here and there. Although perhaps your favorite attention to come from the ‘fame’ was from Tumblr.

Folks from all over the world posted about the boys - or rather their ‘fictional’ counterparts. Artists’ work would pop up from time to time, usually of the boys, but yours were there - even if they were pretty scarce. 

The art was amazing.  Some funny comics, some lewd drawings, some gorgeous renders - all talent.  But somehow, from Chuck’s descriptions of you and the boys, these artists rendered the most flattering, wonderful, and accurate works.  It was incredibly humbling and awe-inspiring all at once.  It even got you to start reading the books!

And you couldn’t blame them for the way the brothers were almost always shirtless or naked. They were like Greek statues, for God sake!

Your character was pretty popular, up until Chuck’s latest book where he started hinting at your little crush on the older brother.  Thank God the boys never read them, or you’d be in deep shit.

Some users sided with you “she’s only human! And he is just so…well, look at him!” Lewd pictures were attached to that post.  Others condemned you. “Seriously? How could he ever notice someone like her? #DeanDeservesBetter” “What’s Chuck thinking?”, “Worst.  Ship. EVER!”

Those stung, you’d admit. But if growing up in the 21st century taught you anything, it’s that fans were only jealous and no one was safe. You could ignore the hate though.

What you couldn’t ignore was the fanfiction.

Oh goodness, the fanfiction.

What seemed to be most popular were the reader inserts with your gorgeous teammate, and you didn’t mind indulging in them one little bit. Some were sweet and cute, others left you dashing for a cold shower after. It stunned you that these writers were able to capture Dean’s mannerisms and personality so well! And these works were just so addicting!

It became a daily thing, finding a new fic, and reading it in the safety of your room where no one could see or judge. You read reader inserts, stories with original characters, and may or may not have found a guilty pleasure in a teensy bit of Destiel (who could deny the two perfect specimens would be hot as hell together?? But you would never tell them).  You steered clear of the Dean x Lisa fics, though, like your life depended on it.

That was one torture you just couldn’t expose yourself to.

Then you stumbled over the one that changed everything. A new fic by one of your favorite authors that featured Dean (of course) and…you. It was a prompt you hadn’t read before, one where the two of you had to share a motel room with only one bed and things got hot and heavy. Your heart raced as you indulged in this fantasy, thinking of all the times you had to share a room with your teammates, though there was always more than one bed. You had never shared with Dean, as he usually bunked on the couch while you and Sam each bunked alone, but a girl can dream can’t she?

And dream you did.  Especially with Dean’s constant flirting and sexual innuendos.

The story became a constant thought in the back of your mind and when Sam hangs back at the bunker and leaves you and Dean to take on a duet hunt together, you felt your heart stop. At the motel when checking in, you were given one room and your mind ran ramped.  Had he read your phone’s history? Did he find your Tumblr? What if he had read the sinful story you’d found and wanted to live out the fantasy with you (another of your favorite prompts). The thoughts had you following silently behind your partner, heart racing as he smiled at you while his deft fingers unlocked the door. Steeling yourself as you walked inside behind him, you dropped your bags and spun around to find… 2 beds.

Oh.

Well, you supposed your dirty fantasies were just that; Fantasies.

----------

The night crawled on with no notable incidents -unfortunately-, and when it was finally time to call it a night, you both fell into your own beds.

Sleep evaded you for hours. The thought of that perfect body lying just feet away from you swam in the back of your mind. You could easily get up, crawl into bed with him, and make all your dreams come true. The fantasies that filled your head made you anything but tired.

Well, that, and the fact that Dean was snoring like a mother fucking buzz saw.

Your wide, dry eyes stared up at the ceiling as the loud rumbles filled the room. Dean had come a long way - with your help - and no longer had nightly episodes or memories of hell. Of course, they still happened on occasion, but they were a rare occurrence now.  The hunter often found himself sleeping soundly through most nights, including this one.

He was the only one who would, it seemed, as you tossed and turned, doing your best to tune out the irritating sound. You put earplugs in, then headphones playing music, then even tracks of white noise.  A forest, a stream, the ocean each one louder than the last.  They all usually knocked you right out on a hunt.

But Dean snored over all of them.

You did your best to ignore it, you really did, but when he rolled over onto his back and started with a newfound volume, you’d decided you’d had enough.

“Dee.”  You say lowly, hoping that he’ll sleep through the disturbance, but that his subconscious will hear his name and disturb his sleep just enough that he’ll shut the hell up.

The resounding snort proves that theory wrong.

“Dee!”  You snap, louder now.  Nothing.  “Dean!”

A few moments pass…

Nothing…

Maybe it worked!  Maybe-

Yeah, no,  there he goes again.

Groaning loudly, you sit up and reach for your phone.  Fine, if his hard-sleeping-ass can sleep through all that, then he could sleep with the light from your phone filling the room as well.

You open your favorite app, the blue screen greeting your tired eyes.  Switching over from the homepage feed, you type ‘Dean x reader’ into the app’s search bar and your screen is immediately flooded with fic after fic.  Pursing your lips, you decide to narrow your search.  It doesn’t seem like you’ll be falling asleep any time soon, so what would the harm be?  You let your thumbs fly over the screen’s keyboard.

Dean x reader smut.

Happy with your amendment, you hit ‘search’ once more and decide to take a walk on the wild side.

Immediately, your screen is flooded with sin and you bite back a smile.  With your screen’s light as low as it’ll go, you click on the first story and settle into a comfortable position, facing away from Dean and the window as you immerse yourself in the fic.

You’ve probably been reading for about an hour or so when your bladder decides it’s time for you to get up.  Sighing quietly, you leave your phone on your pillow, creeping through the silent room.  As soon as you’ve taken care of business and washed up, you tiptoe back to bed.  As you all but fall into the sheets, feeling like you can finally sleep, you realize your phone is not where you left it.

Hell, it’s not even in the bed.

Sitting up in fright, your eyes dart across the room and the sleeping man in the bed opposite yours.  When you see the dimly glowing screen on the bedside table, you sigh in relief, telling yourself that your sleep-deprived brain probably just didn’t register you putting it away.  Locking the screen with sleepy eyes, you drift off to sleep with visions of Dean trailing kisses down your neck flitting behind your eyes.

----------

The morning comes much too quickly for your taste, but you push yourself out of bed to face the day ahead.

You grab your bag quickly, packing up all your belongings as you and Dean prepare for your hunt.  He’s uncharacteristically quiet this morning, barely meeting your eyes as you two embark from the motel room.  Shrugging it off, you follow behind him and before you know it, the two of you are standing before the doors to a known haunted office building.  It’s far too early for anyone to be there, so breaking in is easier than you’d expected and the two of you don’t run into any trouble as you make your way to the top floor.

Once there, you put your plan into motion, Dean taking a defensive position as you sneak into the manager’s office.  You find the haunted artifact like you’ve done a million times before, and you note the sudden shift in the air once you touch it.  It’s almost too quiet as you do your work, but by the way Dean hasn’t even flinched in his spot is a good indicator that things are - miraculously - still going as planned.

Finally, your work is done - the artifact turned to ash and the ghost successfully placated.

----------

You don’t allow yourself to breathe until you and Dean walk into yet another motel, this one only a few towns over from your rendezvous point with Sam.  You’d spend the night here before making the remainder of the journey in the morning.  Exhaustion hits you like a freight train as you trudge to the room, and you find yourself hoping against hope once more that your favorite fics may come to life.  But when your eyes fall on two beds once more those hopes are dashed.

“You can take the king,”  Dean says, and you suddenly realize those are the first words he’s spoken to you all day aside from the business of the break-in earlier.  There hadn’t even been one famous Dean innuendo all day.  “I’ll take the queen.”

You raise your eyebrow at that but don’t argue, even though you know damn well that the man who is almost twice your size probably needs the larger bed more than you do.

No more words are passed between the two of you as you prepare for bed, each taking their turn in the bathroom and shower before turning the lights out and settling down to sleep.  It doesn’t take long for sleep to tickle at your eyelids, but it’s chased away almost instantly when Dean’s buzz saw snores kick to life again.

Groaning quietly, you toss a pillow at the human-grizzly bear before rolling over to grab your phone and headphones from the bedside table.  He continues, of course, and you go to your favorite app once more.  Using your phone this late at night and right before you sleep is bad, you know, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with that man rumbling only several feet from you.

You open a new fanfic, this one’s warnings staring you down as you read “smut, language, NSFW gifs” and you can’t fight back the smirk that plays on your lips.  Again, you roll onto your side, back towards Dean, as you get to reading.

You know your breathing has picked up pace as you get past the fic’s casual banter between friends and the sexual tension sets in.  Your legs squeeze together of their own accord, your chest warming in arousal as you envision Dean speaking to you the way he’s speaking to Y/N in this fic.

Within a few minutes - and a few lines - the sexual tension explodes into a full-on kiss, the smut slowly building as a result.  You scroll quickly, devouring every detail before your fingers slow as the top of a gif comes into view.  It’s sinful, to say the least.  You watch the way the man’s hips swivel into his lover’s, her head thrown back as he buries his head against her throat and himself deep into her.

Your lip is back between your teeth and you can’t bring yourself to scroll on just yet.  Instead, you let yourself take every detail in as the image loops, again and again, your arousal growing with every second.  Oh, what you wouldn’t give to have Dean moving against you that way.  His heavy breath fanning over your collarbone as he grinds against your most sensitive skin.  You have to bite your tongue so as to not moan into the silent room.

Wait…

Silent.

You realize at that moment that the violent snores from the other side of the room have died completely, silence overtaking their absence.  A silence that has you tentatively glancing over your shoulder and only to immediately regret it.

Even in the dark, your eyes find the hazel ones that are only inches away.  Hazel eyes that are damn near swallowed with lust.

Oh.  

Oh, Jesus.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Kiddo?”  His deep voice rumbles in the quiet room, sending your heart galloping as you jump up to sitting, desperately burying your phone against your breast in an effort to hide its contents from him.

“Nothing.”  You say, your voice scarcely above a whisper.  You don’t miss the smirk on his face and frantically reevaluate the past several minutes in your brain.  When had he woken up?  When had he snuck up behind you?  How much had he read over your shoulder?

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”  He says, teeth dragging over his lower lip and it seems for a moment that he’s debating on whether or not he wants to take this any further.  When he speaks again though, he makes his choice very clear.  “Looks like you’re being a very bad girl.”

The room is so fucking quiet that the lump that you gulp down is painfully audible.

He didn’t just say that…did he?  You chuckle humorlessly, trying desperately to break the obvious tension and play off of the joke he is so obviously playing on you.  Dean makes comments like that all the time.  That’s just how he is with you!  Any moment now he’ll chuckle like he always does.

But then he doesn’t laugh with you.  Just stares as he scoots closer on his knees until his frame is right against the bed, pulling you by your thighs until he’s encasing you - palms on either side of your legs that are now thrown over the side of the bed.

You’reDreamingYou’reDreamingYou’reDreaming…

“That…that was too far, wasn’t it?”  He suddenly asks, rocking his weight back on his heels.  Bless him, he looks so uncharacteristically shy and you must look completely dumbfounded.  He waits with bated breath as you open and close your mouth uselessly, desperately searching for words.

Finally, you spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did you just quote the fanfiction I read last night?”  OH MY GOD, you mentally scream.  Why the fuck would you expose yourself like that?? What if he just thought of that himself??

But then what if he didn’t?  Because that line had definitely stuck out to you when reading the night before…and suddenly, you remember why it had.  That was the last line before you left your phone to go to the bathroom.  The last line you’d read with tired eyes before you set your phone down, unlocked, on your pillow and - ohmygod!

“You read that!?”  You screech, gripping your phone tighter.  You gasp so hard you damn near swallow your tongue.  “You put my phone on the bedside table! Dean, you totally snooped while I was peeing!”  Alright, you could’ve kept that bit to yourself.

He’s biting that damn lip again, and you know he can tell that’s exactly where your eyes are zeroed in on.

“Maybe?”  He says, voice small as he admits his secret to you.  “I didn’t mean to!  I just…I woke up when you shut the bathroom door, and the screen was shining right in my face - I just-I got up to lock it so it wouldn’t bother me, but then I saw what you were looking at and…”  He clears his throat.  “Y/N, I…were you reading porn…about me?”

Your face is no doubt a thousand degrees of embarrassment.

“It’s not porn!! It’s fanfiction, and-”

“It literally talks about me fucking you.”  He deadpans, eyebrows raised.  “In explicit detail.  It’s porn.”

You’re silent for a few moments, staring him down as you wait for him to back down.

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Ok, fine!  It’s porn, are you happy?”  You huff, crossing your arms and finally ditching your phone to the pillow beside you.  A sudden terrifying thought causes you to freeze. “So…are you going to tell Sam?”

“Why the fuck would I tell him?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you honestly think I’d tell him something so personal?!”

“I don’t know!”  You repeat, floundering as you toss your hands up before crossing them again in a pout.  “It’s embarrassing.  You know I tend to jump to the worst-case scenarios…”

“Y/N, I would never out you like that.”  You would have to be blind to miss the way his eyes drag over you in your nightclothes, and you are suddenly very aware of your lack of bra and just how cold it is in the room.

He seems to notice too, his eyes zeroing in on your breasts and the way your nipples are pressing against the soft fabric encasing them.

“Do you…do you want me like that?”  He asks, his voice dropping back into the husky tone it had been before his awkward detour.

“No, Dee, I was just reading porn of you for the fuck of it.”  He chuckles at that, his palms coming to rest on your thighs as the embarrassment between you two eases - making way for a choking tension.

“Really?  Ah, well, then I guess I can just go back to bed, then.”

“Don’tyoudare!”  The words are out before you can stop them, but at this point, you don’t much care.

“Oh?  Then what should I do?”  His hazel eyes are dark, gazing at you from below thick lashes as his hands creep higher up your thighs, pushing your oversized t-shirt up to expose the soft cotton covering you from his gaze.  “Should I do this?”

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as he leans forward, lips pressing against the soft skin on the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, please.”  You beg, arms falling at your sides to support you as his mouth grows closer to where you really want him.  Only he doesn’t quite reach, his eyes twinkling playfully at you.

“Words, Y/N.”  He grumbles lowly, splayed hands pushing your legs wider to give himself better access to your heat.

“Dean, please-”  A squeal escapes you when his teeth drag across your hip bone.  “Put your mouth on me.”

Nothing you’ve ever read could’ve prepared you for the way Dean touches you.

He moves slowly, his palms running from your inner thighs to behind your knees to pull your legs over his shoulders.  The movement has your stomach flipping, eyes never leaving his as he drags his tongue up the material hiding your core from him.

He chuckles at your moan, eyes batting as he presses the point of his tongue against your clit beneath your panties.  To be honest, you’re not sure which one of you is enjoying this more what with the way his fingers tighten against your legs, his eyes closing in concentration as he laps at you.

In your wildest dreams, you never thought Dean would be touching you like this - at least not outside of the fiction you were reading.  But, oh, is he touching you - playing you, more like it, plucking your strings until you’re practically singing for him.

You could cum just like this, light pets of his tongue teasing your sensitive skin, but then he’s tugging the panties from your form, diving right back into your bare skin and you’re keening at the contact, your fingers knotting in his long hair.  He groans in response to your moans, forearm flung lazily across your hips to keep you still as he wreaks havoc on you.

You open your mouth, ready to chastise him but the words instantly make way for cries as he finally swipes his tongue through your folds - fucking you with his mouth as he watches your form writhe.

“God, you taste amazing.”  He moans, and you have to hold back a giggle.  “What’s so funny?”  Do you admit that you’d read him saying those very words far too many times to keep count?

But then he’s pulling away, leaving you whimpering at the precipice of release and the sight of his strong torso being revealed to your ends any thoughts you may have had.  Especially when he reaches down and rids you of your own shirt, kissing across your collar bones once they’re exposed.

“You got any protection?”  He asks suddenly, teeth scraping at your throat and you are suddenly aware of the fact that this is real life, not a fic, and wow you’d lost count of how many bareback smuts you’d read.

Not that the thought of Dean cumming inside you wasn’t the hottest thing ever, but the idea of pregnancy was something you didn’t even want to entertain at the moment.

So, begrudgingly, you pushed him off gently, bending down to rifle through your bag - hey, it never hurts to be prepared.  You roll your eyes at his chuckle as you bend over, shaking your exposed backside at him - where he has taken your seat on the mattress - before rising to hand him the small, metallic square.

He toys with it for a few seconds, watching as you stand with a lip tugged gently between your teeth and your eyes flicker to the semi-hard shaft against his thighs. Long fingers enter your line of sight, coming to cup himself, stroking a few times as you watch him.

“See something you like, baby?”  He asks, free hand coming up to run his thumb against your lips.  You nod slowly, shivering at the new pet name, eyes never tearing from where he teases his cock.  You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, Dean’s thumb accidentally catching where it had been against your lips and then he’s growling and pulling you to him.

Your lips crash together, a flash of pain as your teeth clack momentarily, but you’re far too lost in Dean’s intoxicating proximity to care.  He seems to share the sentiment as your hands weave through his hair, pulling him closer as he moans and strokes himself faster before you straddle his strong thighs.

You consider grinding down against the taut muscle momentarily, but then Dean’s rolling the condom down his shaft, his knuckles brushing your folds as he does and all you want is for him to fill you up to the brim.

The desperation is clear on your face, wrapped in hooded eyes and a deep flush as you inhale deeply every time Dean’s knuckles brush you.

“Oh, my god!”  You huff, getting ever so impatient.  He chuckles at your tone, tugging you higher on his lap so that - finally - you’re aligned.  A brief moment passes as you two eye each other hesitantly, your nerves on fire as you consider what it is you’re about to do.  

You’re about to fuck one of your partners, one of your best friends…the man you’ve been fantasizing about for years.

“Ready?”  He asks softly, testing the waters as he runs the head of his cock through your lips.  Any hesitation you may have had melts with the shiver that travels your spine, and then some when Dean growls as you bare your nails into his shoulder blades.

“Dean, I swear to god, if you don’t fu-ck me!”  You squeal the tail end of your sentence, Dean’s own groan disappearing into the skin of your shoulder as he slides home.  Pain and pleasure flood your senses and suddenly you are highly aware of just how long it’s been.

“Shiiit,” Dean sighs at the tight fit, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and holding you still as he struggles to hold himself off.

It’s been a while for him, too.

“Jesus, you’re tight.”  He hisses between his teeth, his brow as scrunched as yours no doubt is at the moment.

“And you’re huge.”  He laughs then, the movement of his abs against your sensitive skin enough to have you sighing.  “I, uh, think you’re good to move.”  You say quietly, testing this theory with a slight brush forward of your hips.  When delicious friction reaches your clit at the action you moan lowly.  “Oh, yeah.  Very good to move.”

And move he does, giving you a few moments as he slowly builds up the pace before falling back and letting you take the reigns.  Your hands find his strong pecs as you fall forward at the sudden shift, and a shit-eating grin crosses your face.  Dean misses this, however, as his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure.

“Fuck!”  He groans when you begin to rut against him, dragging your clit against his adonis belt as his cock head catches against your insides perfectly.  He doesn’t seem to mind this change, panting openly and quite vocally.  Well, that is until his hands find your thighs and hold on tight.  “Shit, slow down, baby…I don’t know how long I can last if you keep that up.”

You’re about to apologize, a flush very evident on your skin before Dean is manhandling you onto your back, your legs cast wide in his grasp.

“Let’s slow things down a little.”  He teases, kissing your nose as you giggle and let him set the pace.

When he does, it’s dizzyingly slow, his teeth dragging against your skin as do his fingertips and after a few minutes of sinfully slow rocks of his hips, he is very quickly stringing you towards the edge.

“Dean,”  You whimper, your walls beginning to flutter around him.  The groan that milks from his chest is nothing short of sexy and you return one of your own.  His name becomes a chant on your lips as pleasure rushes through your bloodstream, your nails digging into his taut back and after a few more thrusts of his own, he’s emptying inside the condom.

The high fades slowly, your skin buzzing in sated pleasure as a lazy smile takes place on your face.  Dean is quiet, almost shy as he retreats to the restroom to clean himself and dispose of the condom.  You snicker quietly to yourself at the thought that this detail is often left out of the fics you read, but the pleasant ache between your legs certainly isn’t.

“Well,”  He says as he returns, slipping under the covers with you.  As you shift, something digs into your side and when you bring the offending object above the covers do you realize that your phone had remained in the sheets that whole time.  You hand it off to him as he tugs you closer, waving him to put it on the bedside table.  “Aren’t you glad I decided to snoop?”  He teases as he takes the contraption from you.

“Yeah, Yeah, Dee.  But not as glad as I am that we can save on rooms by just booking us one bed from now on!”

You both chuckle at the jest, your giggles soon dying into labored breathing as your energy drains quickly against the warmth of Dean’s body wrapped around yours.  Your eyes drift shut of their own accord, not noticing how Dean hesitates at placing your phone on the charger…again.

“Hey, baby?”  He asks hesitantly, his eyes widening as he scrolls through your Tumblr feed and exposed to all sorts of sin.

“Hmm?”  You hum, sleep tickling at your mind.   That is until your eyes fly open wide at his following question.

“What’s Destiel?”

FIN

#Winchester #Winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn #spn fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #hunter reader #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #spn reader insert #reader insert #dean Winchester reader insert #lena writes

[vampykween]

Okay all I can think about is toxic ex husband Simon actually trying to get you back. Like he sees another man talking to you and you smiling and laughing and he sees red and just realizes how awful he's been. He needs you and his girls back in his life. Or maybe he says he misses the kids so you let him come over, and yes he misses the kids but he also misses you. Brings flowers and stays off his phone and actually pays attention to you and your girls.

Also thinking about toxic (heavy on the toxic) ex husband simon not accepting things. Maybe he has a recruit stage a break in at your house, get you scared and running right back to him. Maybe he didn't actually let the divorce papers get filed, just let you think they did. You think he's letting you go that easily?

Or or orrr he is over to see the girls (and you) and he overhears you (is very sneakily eavesdropping) while you're on the phone with a friend talking about the divorce. You say something about think he was probably cheating on you since he was so disinterested in you. He is so disappointed in himself, just thinking like 'was I really that horrible that she thinks I did that?'

Lol I have so many scenarios bouncing around up there

anon phew omg! you’re feeding me with these ideas. hell you could take over! i adore your mind. feel free to send me any and all scenarios you have. i’m obsessed truly and welcome it all! <3

i know i’ve made toxichusband!simon an absolutely douche, but i do love the idea that he’d be sitting alone in an empty house realizing he’s wasting his life away when he could be putting in the work to get in your good graces and try to show you he’s capable of changing. whether you believe him or not hmm i don’t know, but but but i do believe you’re a hopeless romantic and secretly you’d love for time to turn back and for everything to go back to how it used to be. you’d try not to give too much of a reaction when simon shows up on your doorstep each time with little gifts for you, but internally you’re swooning and falling for him again. there was always going to be a part of you that loved simon especially when you saw him everyday in the faces in your daughters.

-

adding in his eavesdropping simon would definitely beat himself up over the idea that you think he’d be capable of infidelity. not that being a borderline absent husband and father was any better, but he would never do that to you! simon was more just checked out of life in general, marriage and kids always seemed out of the realm of possibility and then suddenly it was and he didn’t handle it as gracefully as he promised he would. (not to be a simon sympathizer but…)

-

extra toxichusband!simon would absolutely do something shady to get you to rely on him. what are you thinking trying to have a life outside of him? he’s no rookie and can lie through his teeth so easily it even fools you, and you know him inside and out. oh the divorce papers? already filed, love. although, let’s not hold our breath if the process takes a little longer than expected (he definitely shredded them in his office. what an insane idea you had thinking you could ever leave him!) he’d also be such a manipulator omg! constantly reminding you that going through with the divorce will tear the family apart and that the girls will resent you forever. he’s got two little daddy’s girls wrapped around his finger, you wouldn’t sever that precious bond, now would you?

#mic answers #toxichusband!simon #toxichusband!ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader

[callmelyc]

Angsty post canon concept:

When Allura dies what if the Altean magic she used on Shiro and Lance weakens and that's how ppl find out Lance also died?

Both Lance and Shiro start with symptoms they can ignore and ones doctors brush aside. They get told it's fatigue, they get told it's after effects from fighting In the war like they had for all that time. Neither realize it all starts after Alluras death.

Then they end up with things unexplainable. Things like extreme full body tremors, sudden extreme chills and are icy cold to the touch no matter the temperature. Their bodies ache in the ways they had in their deaths but neither man admits it out loud too afraid of what that might mean so neither is aware they aren't alone is this bizarre and sudden turn of events.

It's not until Lance collapses and is rushed to the Garrison hospital that they discovered it something more.

His body deteriorating from the inside out seen visibly from their newest high tech scans. Rotting, closing down, slowing or lacking proper function like his body has given up. Like his body is referring backwards to lack of life but no one knows why.

It's almost like its frying itself from the inside out, it's path crawling closer and closer to his heart with every passing day like bolts of electricity pulsing more and more upward.

Shiro is the first to realize what it means once Lance is finally giving the symptoms they'd had to pry out of him. He realizes with dread that his fellow paladin has things that match up too close to his own.

He only realizes bc he's felt similar things, only his resemble his own death and he knows for a fact its thinfs in Excruciating pain, a pain he thought no one but himself would ever understand.

To get lance to admit what happened Shiro goes through the scans himself to prove his point. No one enjoys hearing Lances story, Allura hadn't even known she was capable of what she'd done to him So he's worse off than Shiro is and terrified of the idea of dying again this slowly

both get taken to an off planet hospital, one that could preserve their symptoms until the rest of their team and families could find a way to heal them

But without Alluras alchemy No one knew what to do.

First they try talking to the alteans on new altea but none have any knowledge of the alchemy allura had used for them

Then the team spreads out

Pidge uses her ranking in her field to gain any and all database information she can get her hands on

Hunk uses his connections To the Balmera and other species to attempt to find any information on healing abilities that might help

Keith is the most successful, the man he loves and his brother are dying and he wouldn't accept that one bit

He sends all the Blades willing to look for any possible Leads and anyone who might know anything about healing magic or alchemy

Keith is the one who comes across one of haggars old druids, one well versed in altean alchemy and one bitter at what had become of the craft

She had understood, to a degree, what Allura had done to Save both men

She had tied their life force to her own to ground them back to this plane of existence and now that she's no longer tied to one universe her connection has faded and so has theirs

"You must tie them to another life to keep them but this practice is taboo. If this next life dies they will with it."

Keith doesn't hesitate for a moment "just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

He ends up tying Lances life force to his own, Lance so sickly he didn't get a choice and Keith apologizes the entire way

He combs fingers through lances thinned hair hoping it brought any comfort to the man that had no energy to even stay awake anymore "you can be as angry as you want after this, as long as you survive I don't care anymore..."

Shiros husband does the same for Shiro

They know it's worked when their bodies stop dying and start to finally try to heal.

The damage so extensive they both spend months in newly crafted healing pods that do everything to try to reverse it.

Both come out whole, alive and maybe a little worse for wear than before All this took place.

But no one cares so long as they stay alive.

And, if when Keith tells lance what he'd done to save him, Keith earns a strict slap to the face for his recklessness that's followed by a gentle kiss.

Well, no one says a word.

#voltron #lance vld #vld #vld lance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #klance #keith x lance #keith voltron #shiro vld #i put this concept on Twitter and rhey were frothing at the mouth over it #this will be turned into a full fic so stay tuned

[dearshelby]

The devil's advocate | T.S

Summary: Tommy's wife tries to understand why people keep calling him a bad man while she keeps loving him so much.

A/N: This idea popped in my head at the middle of the Sunday's evening and I couldn't resist writing it 👀 Although I'm a Tommy apologist this isn't my view of him, I'm aware he's a morally gray character, but in the story the reader is too naive (and a bit lovesick) to see that.

Being married to Tommy for so long, she'd seen him in all states. War had changed him, hardening his features to the point she no longer could tell what he was thinking or feeling. Nevertheless, she knew him, she saw him smile and cry, laugh and fight, fall apart and build up again.

Rarely, she saw him fear and hardly ever, she saw him at peace. Contrary to what many people think, Tommy didn't become emotionless, he became a sergeant, always in charge, never indecisive, mercilessly leading the family to the top of the world.

An aching anger burnt in her chest when they were so ungrateful for it. They always said she was love blinded, heartless or simply too stupid to understand Tommy wasn't a saint, his mistakes had gotten many people killed.

She knew that, it was hard to turn a blind eye to the fact that besides everything, Tommy was capable of utter violence. However, how could she condemn him? He wasn't randomly violent and he didn't take pleasure in it - or at least that's what he had led her to believe - everything he had ever done was to protect the family.

How could she condemn him when the Tommy who beat a man to nearly death was the same to bring her flowers and jewelry? He always looked so tired, the problems and appointments never left his head, but he still insisted on giving her a gift at the end of the day.

Thomas Shelby wasn't a bad man and he didn't deserve his family's hatred. It was a hill she was willing to die on. Even in the nights she tried to consider the possibility, her eyes always reached the portrait on her dressing table, Tommy with their newborn baby, no bad man cared for his family so much.

Perhaps they knew a side of Tommy she didn't, but she knew a side of him they didn't know too. The man who rested his head on her chest every night, much like a kitten rubbing his cheek on her so he'd get head scratches. Or the man who cried with her when they got their first Christmas tree since neither of them had this privilege in their childhoods.

On the other hand, there was Tommy who got home with blood stains on his collar and didn't answer her questions. Also, the Tommy who killed the italian Sous-Chef while their child slept on the floor above. 

A knot formed on her throat when these thoughts haunted her, she couldn't believe it, her Tommy wasn't bad, he couldn't be. Then why did everyone seem to label him so? What was the probability that everyone was wrong except her? 

What about everything he provided? What about the risks he took to provide the family? Didn't it erase the many wrongs he did? She didn't have the time to ponder when the bedroom's door opened, revealing a tired, yet very handsome Tommy. 

"Hello," he drawled with the husky voice she loved so much.

"Hi," she immediately stood up, "how was your day?" 

Tommy shrugged off and put his suitcase at the armchair in the corner, "As usual," 

"Yeah?" walking to him, she rested her hands on his shoulders, "Arthur called, I told him you'd call back later,"

Sighing and rolling his eyes, he nodded in agreement, "Alright," 

"Let me get you off this suit," 

Slowly, she began dressing him off, her fingers occasionally brushed his warm skin. At the same time he caressed her face, his thumb moved up and down her cheek, traced her lips and playfully pinched her nose.

Then she realized, people didn't know this side of Tommy, the soft, playful husband, that's why they called him bad. She was certain now.

Letting him on his undershirt, she brushed the tip of her nose on his and whispered, "I love you,"

"I know," he answered, "that's why I do what I do," 

Weakly smiling, she touched their foreheads and closed her eyes, she didn't need answers or justifications while breathing the same air as him. If everything he did was for her, she didn't mind being the one to blame. 

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic

[poetatorturadaa]

Have my back, everyday, fels like home.

jason todd x fem!reader, light angst?, hopeful ending. soeees, I had this saved in notes for a long time, it doesn't have an exact beginning and nor an end, but I wanted to share it. English is not my first language, so let me know If I missed something, I hope you like it. <3

Jason looks at her and his eyes soften with something else, something like tenderness as he watches her take the strawberry from the bowl and chew on it. It's strange for him to think that she was ever interested in romance. It's not that he thinks romance doesn't suit her—he's seen her living with his siblings, she's a sweet, warm presence who can bring out the best in anyone. Hell, even Damian's. But she always plays the role of friend, of platonic confidant. No one seems to be able to see past her pretty face and realize how alone she feels.

Jason is not a poet, nor does his training as a vigilante offer many insights into romance. But he can see that there is something in her that craves attention, to feel loved. It's not Jason's place to fill that void, or at least, he's not supposed to. He then looks away and continues cleaning his motorcycle.

A weight floats in the air. Y/n doesn't recognize it, but the silence becomes too pronounced. It's almost as if even the cartoon on her phone knows there shouldn't be such an absence of words.

Jason's gaze moves back to Y/n's face, who remains focused on the screen. It's like it's easier to pretend that a cartoon is more interesting than whatever else is happening in the room. There's a strange electric hum in the air and her skin tingles when his gaze meets hers. There are so many different possible futures, each of them tugging at her heart in a thousand different ways.

He couldn't say anything, let the energy dissipate and pretend it never happened. He might give in and confess a secret that could turn everything upside down. He could engage in a monologue about the state of his soul.

Instead, he speaks plainly, as if none of these things were possible or even worth mentioning. "Do you want another strawberry?"

Y/n looks at Jason and feels a strange kind of kinship with the silence that hangs between them, even if he's doing her job, making the sound of metal scraping against stone. Still, she can't let herself get comfortable with the silence between her and Jason, and her thumb flicks across her phone to change the cartoon episode she'd just finished. "Yes, of course," she begins, looking at Jason, "So...what were you saying about Dick?"

"Dick seems to think you're keeping me balanced," he says quietly, taking a couple of seconds to extend the now half-full bowl of strawberries toward Y/n. There's a subtle change in her tone, a slight drop in sharpness. It's subtle, but is there anyway. "He thinks you... tame me or something." He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible laugh, though that's completely accurate to her relationship with Dick.

In Jason's eyes, Y/n could only be described as the sunsets that seem to be longer in summer, a cup of coffee with the perfect amount of sugar on a winter night, and the sweet, pungent aroma before the rain. She is able to bring a strange feeling of calm to anyone who crosses her path. And as a close friend of the Bat-family, she is one of the few entities capable of talking reason to them. Y/n has the unique gift of being able to keep all of their tempers in check.

She lets out a small giggle at Jason's words, amused by the way Dick perceives her, oblivious to the fact that Jason actually thinks of her the same way too. "He must know something to think that." She scoffs, her voice as reserved as ever as she turns off her phone and puts it in her back pocket, turning around and placing her chin on the back of the couch to now look at Jason as her hand goes to grab another strawberry from the bowl he's holding. He extended it to her.

"He has this idea that you... calm me down" Jason continues, looking at her now. His expression has softened. "He has told me more than once that as long as you are in the game, I will be fine. That you will keep me in line and make me less destructive."

He pauses, turning his gaze to the metal of the motorcycle, which is now in perfect condition to be used again. "It's actually a little insulting," he says, his voice thick with sarcasm. Y/n brings out the best in everyone, but it seems like no one believes she might be the one who needs to let her guard down.

Y/n discovers that she admires Jason more than she should. Maybe just a second longer, but Y/n is detail oriented. And that extra second was incredibly countable. The vigilante, and his gray-green eyes, tired and constantly expressive, in which she felt that if he looked for a second too long she would get lost again. Distracting hands. His expression was so different and complicated to put into words.

"I think we all need someone to take care of us." She responded softly, expressing between the lines her inner desire to have someone to take care of her too.

Jason's expression changes again. It is something so subtle that it cannot be pinpointed. But the weight is still there. And it's almost as if an entire novel has been written since his last words.

He looks up again and again his expression is hard to read. "I doubt anyone has ever taken care of you." His tone is soft, almost calm. It may seem like a shot to the heart, and maybe it is. But he says it sincerely, he knows that even though he and the rest of his siblings, even Bruce, or many other superheroes, are always there, she doesn't have a person to take care of her like she wants to be taken care of. And she deserves more than that.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #dc comics #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd fic #it's nice to have a friend #you're find me in my tallest tiptoes #jason todd oneshot #reader mirrorball #dick grayson #batfam #batfamily #light angst #angst #hopeful ending

[riseofamoonycake]

Then maybe... something for Thor? 👉👈 anything 😚

I SAY YES

Arms of the Thunder

🌩️ Pairing: Thor x Female!reader

🌩️ Warnings: mention of forced and arranged marriage, angst

🌩️ Implied happy ending

🌩️ Thanks @praisethesuuun for the prompt!

🌩️

You didn't ask for it. For any of it.

And still it happened.

No one paid attention to your tears, to your prayers and implorings, to the desperation that danced in your eyes as soon as you heard the news, to the clothes that were crumpled after having squeezed them between your fingers until they were almost torn; adamant, your family, the same one that you thought had your happiness and well-being in mind, turned its back on you and left you alone, without caring about your broken heart and, indeed, looking at you with a compassion full of mockery.

Nothing but a spoiled child.

«But I… I don’t want to get married. I’m fine like this…» 

The proposal of Great Odin cannot be rejected. Do you understand it? He offers you a marriage with his son and you act like a little girl!

«But…»

No buts. Thor is strong, young and handsome, he is more than capable of looking after you and in time you will learn to love him. Trust us.

«I don’t think so, and I don’t want it!»

Grow up, Y/N. Grow up and open your mind, or stay in your misery. However, the decision does not change. You will marry The All Father’s son whether you want it or not. Clear?

Grow up… in these months of waiting, of a long suffered winter and missed spring, the only thing that has grown is your agony, your sadness, the silence and the immobility. The Nordic pantheon… why such a choice? Why the cold of the North, the beaches black like liquid ash, the endless nights? Why the deceptions of Loki Silvertongue, the terrible aura of Odin, and… Thor. Thor Lord of Thunder… Thor who never speaks, never smiles, who inspires fear, but not a single idea of ​​love. Thor… he cannot be your husband. He cannot be! Why? Why?

«It’s not fair… it can’t end like this», you keep repeating to yourself throughout the day, every hour and minute, week after week, locked in your room, unable to feel joy for small and big things, the thought of what will happen approaching unstoppable and cruel, all aimed at poisoning your every moment of freedom. The doors of the building where you reside are always closed, but it doesn’t matter, they could also be open and you wouldn’t escape anyway, because you have lost that impulse too; just as you lost and continue to lose weight, and color, and even your voice. If no one wants to listen, what is the point of using it?

Your family observes everything and doesn’t comment, and in the eyes of your siblings you read the annoyance: they consider all this a whim, the trampling of the toes of a woman who acts like a kid and doesn’t understand that things are done for her good, and therefore they persevere. The marriage arrangement that Odin has proposed is too convenient for the entire house, and that is why they flaunt the choice with pride, struggling to contain their anger at your behavior; they don’t even ask you why you have to act like this, so every day you distance yourself more and more from them, coming to hope that this marriage will at least have the benefit of taking you away from a nest that is no longer it.

Unexpectedly, it is Odin who responds to this silent invocation; Odin, who arrives at your house on a summer day and asks for the presence of the entire family, except you. You remain in the garden without a protest, patiently waiting for the meeting to end; nor are you upset when a flock of maids, led by your sisters, comes to take and drag you into the bathrooms to get ready and settled. Something big has just been decided, and it doesn’t take long to become known: «You have been invited to the palace of the Great Odin! Do you think about it? You will spend the summer with them, together with your fiancé! Are you not happy? My, my, how envious I am… I would like to be in your place!»

You breathe deeply and don’t reply, let yourself be washed, prepared and dressed up without a word, and you smile inside when your sisters frown and notice how every dress is too large and doesn’t suit you like before; you even sneer, seeing the spite in their faces, and allow yourself to hope. If Odin doesn’t find you attractive enough for Thor or simply not up to his standards, there is a chance he might break the contract; and that is what you want with all of yourself, every part of you reveals it.

For his part, the All Father does not comment when he sees you appear before him: he remains impassive observing you with his one eye and from the height of his person, and does not reveal either regret, affection, annoyance or satisfaction; he simply looks at you for a few moments, reading your soul like a book, and then turns away without a word. At this point, you know that you have to follow him wherever he wants to lead you. Despite your hopes, for now he hasn’t broken the agreement, so you barely respond to those who greet you, you don’t look anyone in the face, you wish never to return to this place; and you move on, because it can’t get worse. And you move on, because whatever lies ahead is all you still have left.

⛈️

As you suspected, the first thing that welcomes you is the cold: a chill that puffs on your face and then penetrates you through your nose and mouth, and takes up residence in your body. Odin’s handmaidens offer you cloaks, blankets, everything that can bring warmth; but you are unable to warm up and remain shivering in the middle of a strange building, too tall and too empty, which you already hate. You don’t even give it a glance, not even a chance to enter your heart, and you shut it out of you with resentment. Thus, erected in the center of the room like a statue and surrounded by a group of people whose words and questions you can barely hear, you only realize after some time that someone is observing you discreetly, without wanting to invade the space and take away the last fragment of freedom you have; and when you raise your eyes, you meet those of your betrothed.

Standing on one side of the room, his face half hidden by the white coat he is wearing, his gaze welcomes you without hurting you, it is not full of heat but not as cold as you thought; it is as if he is waiting to see what stirs in yours. His long sunset hair and the marks that pulsate on his skin are the only notes of color together with the golden irises, but they are traces of light that do not dazzle, which he seems to hold back on purpose so as not to scare you; and for some reason, for a few moments, you feel that he understood you, that he really saw you, and that he respects what you feel.

Maybe he also doesn’t want this marriage like I don’t want it?, you ask yourself as you look away, slightly uncomfortable, and close your eyes in sadness; when you reopen them, Thor is gone, and you mentally thank him for it ― as well as asking for his forgiveness. Now you realize: he is not to blame, he didn’t ask to have you as a guest now, nor as a wife later. Probably, if it had been for the god, none of this would have happened, and he had to bow to a higher law; in this, perhaps, he is more like you than anyone else.

However, it doesn’t help you appreciate the environment you find yourself in: the parties that light up the halls of your building, the carefree voices, the moments of joy and pure leisure couldn’t be further away, because here everything seems to be inspired to the severity, rigor and icy calm of winter…  even when it isn’t winter. Fortunately, the god you feared most, Loki, has not yet revealed himself and according to palace rumors he is too busy elsewhere to do so, and Great Odin has never officially requested your presence, although he always notes when you appear; but not even the other gods are great company, as if they don’t trust each other and prefer to keep their distance, without even spreading too many smiles. At another time, or if they were other people, you would consider them boring, pompous and not at all interesting; but the Norse deities are simply different from you, another level, another world. Even the storms that ravage these lands are something unknown to you: not intense and sudden rains scented with grass and rivers, not dry and fast thunder, not shades of green and puddles that fill roads and woods; but blizzards of ice and snow, flashes of white and blue, rumblings near and far that last for days, anguishing darkness that is lost in a sky with a womb so deep that you can’t see its end. That void, that inverted abyss that instead of making you sink swallows you from above, terrifies you and makes you huddle in on yourself while you observe the black clouds from behind the curtains of one of the corridors of the building and wonder when they will go away, if after another day of storm there will finally be the blessing of the sun; and as you blanch for a thunder, this time so close that even the glass and walls shake, you immediately realize the presence of someone next to you and slowly move your gaze to the figure of Thor, who has silently appeared at your side.

The god looks at you for a few moments, then gently takes the curtain from your hands and covers the window, leaving the sky outside the building. «You are very pale. Are you feeling good?»

You remain silent for a moment, intent on listening to the sound of his voice: it is the first time you have heard it. Then, you pass a hand over your face and try with all your being to hold on words that come out anyway. «I don’t want to be here», you murmur, «I don’t want…» I don’t want you.

«You are freezing. You are not used to this cold yet, you need to cover up more.» Not at all hurt or affected by your words, his face impassive, Thor takes off his white coat and in an instant wraps you in it, rolling up your sleeves and arranging the collar so that it can keep your neck and shoulders warm, tightening it a little to make it adhere better to your body.

You let him do it without replying or moving and you watch with curiosity as your person disappears inside the garment, too long and wide for you but actually warm and comfortable, then you stare at the face of your betrothed and frown. «Why are you doing all this? I behave ungratefully, I tell you that I don’t want to stay here and in return you keep me protected from the cold. Why?» This time the tone becomes pleading: you really wonder what pushed him to approach you, what makes him talk, why with you. Does he feel pity? Guilt, or embarrassment?

This time, the God of Thunder doesn’t reply, but only looks at you. You don’t force any other words and remain silent as well, listening to the storm calming down a little and becoming the closest thing to a peaceful night. You hug Thor’s coat tighter and he adjusts it again, then a hand stops on your head and your hair receives a light stroke, a delicate touch that is the kindest you have received in days, which remains despite being so fast that it can seem like an imagination, a dream.

Outside, the rain drips slowly from the roof and slides on the windows, tracing its patterns; and suddenly it smells of grass, of waterfalls, of home. Inside, you find yourself caressing the white coat with your fingertips, closing your eyes and savoring all the warmth and calm that is descending on your body. The cold is no longer there, now, and when Thor looks at you again to check on your condition, you can’t help but smile a bit. «Thank you», you whisper then, letting the words die and no longer disturb you.

Thor nods his head, then his arm remains close to you. You look at him out of the corner of your eye, then lower your eyelids and let the night win over the world and prepare what will follow.

Maybe, tomorrow won’t be so terrible to live through.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #snv #record of ragnarok thor #shuumatsu no valkyrie thor #thor ror #ror thor #snv thor #ror odin #snv odin #shuumatsu no valkyrie odin #odin record of ragnarok

[spoodrm4n]

I Can Handle It

Inspired by one of @gudfornuthin ‘s posts!!

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: The reader goes with Steve and the kids to a basketball game to cheer Lucas on, but one of the boys from her wrestling team that always had a bone to pick with her causes trouble and reader defends her brother. 

Warnings: mentions of blood & injury. Reader is a badass. 

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: okay so i like the wrestling idea and it’s been on my mind ever since my first fic so i had to write about it again.

You and Steve walked through the halls of Hawkins high school, on your way to the basketball game to cheer on Lucas with the rest of the kids. You got to the gym doors, hearing the band play and the crowd talking amongst themselves, and Steve handed the doorman a five for the both of you. You entered the gym and smiled as your eyes found Robin in the band playing her trumpet on the edge of the band. A few feet from her were Dustin, Mike, Max, El, and Will. After Hopper had returned, Joyce had moved her family back to Hawkins. Dustin immediately picked you out from the group of people streaming through the doors and waved you over, a huge grin on his face. You nodded to him and got Steve’s attention, pulling him over to the kids. You hiked up the bleachers to them.

“Is this date night?” Mike smirked at the two of you and you rolled your eyes. Mike Wheeler had always been extremely blunt and sarcastic. 

“More like babysitting night. It’s not a date if I’m watching you five.” Steve led you behind the five of them, hand on your arm to make sure you didn’t trip on the bleachers. 

“Aw you love spending time with us, Steve!” Max stuck her tongue out at him. You looked at Steve and saw a small smile play on his lips. He did love these kids with his whole heart. Hell, he kept their favorite snacks and drinks on hand at his house and he kept cassettes of their favorite songs in his car. Steve loved these kids as much as you did. You had known the kids a bit longer than Steve only because Dustin was your younger brother. You had grown accustomed to driving them around and watching over them before Steve came around. 

“Congrats on state, by the way.” Will congratulated, looking up at you and sending you a thumbs up. You smiled back at him. You had been wrestling since freshman year and you had worked hard to get where you were. The boys on the team belittled you nonstop your first year, but as you got better and showed them you were fully capable of handing their asses to them, they warmed up to you. You worked through the school year and all through summer to be the best you could and it had paid off. You were a senior now and you had won all of your matches except one. At your district meet, you had gone undefeated and had won a spot in the state meet. 

“Oh yeah! I loved watching you demolish those guys! ” Max gushed. All of the kids, Steve, and Robin had gone to your district meet and had cheered you on the whole time. They had all ran down to you and given you a giant group hug once you had won your qualifying match, earning you a spot at state. They were your biggest fans. 

“Bitchin.” El added in. You gave her a pat on the shoulder in thanks, beaming at her. The seven of you sat down and waited for the game to start, small talking about what the kids planned to do after the game. The Hawkins Tigers finally entered the gym and you all waved at Lucas. He found you all in the crowd and waved back quickly before starting his warm ups with the team. You turned to Steve as the kids talked.

“Do you want a water or anything? I think I’m gonna head to the bathroom before the game starts.” You asked, standing up. 

“I can just come with you,” he stood up with you, quickly telling the kids where the two of you were heading and asking if they wanted anything. They all shook their heads no and he turned, following you down the bleachers and into the hallway.

“Where do you think they’re plotting to go tonight?” You looked up at Steve and he intertwined your hands. He swung your arm with his as the two of you strolled down the hall.  

“If I had to guess, probably the diner we go to after every game.” Steve chuckled as the both of you turned the corner. 

“You know how much El likes her waffles.” You shrugged, bumping your shoulders against one another. 

“Henderson! Almost didn’t recognize you– you’re actually looking a bit feminine today!” You froze in place, anger seeping into your bones at the voice that had called down the hall behind you. You turned around to face Chris. 

You knew Chris from wrestling. He was in your grade and always gave you the hardest time at practice and meets. He was one of the few boys on the team that still had a problem with you being there. He constantly threw insults your way, but it all came from his own insecurities. You were better than him. Better than almost everyone on the team, in fact, and his ego was hurt that a girl was better than him. 

“Chris, we aren't at practice. You can call me names and shit tomorrow.” You wanted to seem unbothered, but deep down his comments always hurt. You had told Steve a little bit about your encounters with Chris, but you never went into depth about it. You felt Steve tense up beside you and you squeezed his hand in reassurance. 

“You know you don’t even belong on the team. You’re a girl. You belong on the cheer team-- better yet, the kitchen.” Chris spat, walking up to the two of you. He was only a couple feet away now. You clenched your jaw and swallowed the words you wanted to yell at him. 

“You say that, but I’m the one going to state. Not you.” Your voice was even, trying your best to seem unbothered by him. You didn’t want to deal with this right now. You just wanted to get back to your brother and his friends and watch Lucas play. 

“Only because they feel bad for you. Everyone goes easy on you because no one wants to hit a girl.” He was in your face now.

“Hey man, back up.” Steve was pushing himself in between you and Chris now. 

“Steve, it’s fine. Just come on,” you whispered, grabbing Steve by the shoulder and pulling him away. Chris smirked at you, making your stomach flip uneasily and you turned and started to walk away. 

“You know… your brother would make a great punching bag.” Before Steve could even get a word out, you spun on your heel and reached Chris within a couple of strides. You saw red. You raised your first and punched him in the jaw, making him stumble back. You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him towards you, kneeing him in the crotch. Chris fell to the ground with a yelp, but you weren’t finished yet. You pinned him down and threw punch after punch at his face. His head hit the tile floor with a sickening crack after each hit. You felt Steve’s arms hook under your armpits and pull you off of him and you let him, body sagging against Steve’s chest. 

You sat there for a moment against Steve’s chest, chest heaving with adrenaline. You looked at Chris on the floor. His face was bloody and bruised, head lolled to the side, but eyes still trained on you– conscious. 

“Don’t you ever talk about my brother like that again or so help me god you’ll wish you were dead.” You spat, eyebrows furrowed and hands shaking with rage. You got to your feet and started down the hall, Steve quickly scrambling after you. You didn’t give Chris another glance as you rounded the corner towards the bathrooms. You pushed open the restroom door and stepped up to one of the sinks. You turned on the water and started scrubbing the blood off of your knuckles.

“You okay?” Steve was leaning against the wall, watching you closely. Concern was etched into his features. He remembered you saying something about one of the jerks on the team and how you always tried to brush off his comments. He had never seen you react like that before– he knew that Chris had crossed a very huge line for you. 

You nodded, rinsing off the last of the blood on your hands. “It’s okay when he says that shit to me; I can handle it. Sure, yeah, it hurts sometimes, but it’s not like misogynists aren’t uncommon,” you shrugged, turning the water off. Steve already had paper towels ready for you. He handed them to you and nodded, urging you to continue. “But something inside me just snaps when people say anything about Dustin– or you-- or any of the kids. I can’t stand down when someone’s talking shit or threatening the people I love like that.” You finished, throwing the now damp paper towels in the trash. 

“I get that. I’m the same way. If you hadn't thrown the first punch right out of the gate, I think I would’ve.” Steve looked you up and down, taking in your figure. You seemed more calm now, the tension in your shoulders and forehead dissipating. “I’m dating a badass.” He added, grinning at you. You laughed, shaking your head at him. You pulled him towards you, catching his lips with your own. You stayed there for a moment, breathing through your nose and feeling the rest of the stress in your body disappearing as you kissed him. You pulled away from him and quickly pecked him on the cheek. You loved Steve so much. He was a constant for you and you couldn’t be more grateful for him. 

“I’m probably going to face the consequences tomorrow.” You sighed. There was no doubt that Chris would snitch on you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “Let’s enjoy the rest of our night, yeah?” The two of you walked out of the bathroom to be met with five familiar faces standing outside, eavesdropping. 

“What the hell are you guys doing?” Steve raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. They all looked at you, eyes wide and mouths slightly agape.

“You totally beat his ass!” Dustin spoke up, blinking up at you. You cringed, realizing that the kids had either seen or heard what happened.

“Did you guys follow us out?” You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose and shutting your eyes. 

“We may have wanted some snacks.” Mike scratched the back of his neck, eyes avoiding your own. 

“So you saw everything?” You frowned, biting you lower lip. You didn’t want the kids to see you act out of line like that. They all stared back at you for a moment in silence.

“Bitchin.” El mumbled, eyes still wide, but an impressed look on her face.

“Come on, I’m sure we’re missing pregame and Robin will whine at us if we miss her trumpet solo.” You shook your head at the five, walking past them and towards the gym. 

“My sister is awesome.” You smiled fondly, cheeks heating up at Dustin’s words. You would do anything for him, he had you wrapped around his finger. Steve caught up to you and the two of you listened to the kids gawking over the fight. You and Steve stifled your laughter at their comments. You wouldn’t be living this one down anytime soon.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fic #henderson!reader

[goghtomars]

Family

🌻 Author Note - Timeline may be slightly incorrect, I couldn’t figure out a way to make it entirely match with the CM plot but it is close. Also, I made up a best friend’s name.

💥Warnings: angstyyyyy. Drinking. Pregnancy mentioned. Prison mentioned. Cussing.

You really didn’t think the wine would hit you this hard. A year ago, you could’ve drowned out your sorrows with a bottle of red and still been able to walk in a straight line. But now, now you're drunk, and only two glasses in.

“God, y/n, pregnancy made you a lightweight!” your best friend Elise jokes, watching you as you start to stumble in your kitchen.

“Shut up, I'm fine, I tripped on Athena’s pacifier” you lie, refusing to believe you’re any different after having your baby girl. You grab some water for yourself, moving back to your spot on the couch next to Elise.

“Uh huh, sure. Y’know it was all your idea to start drinkingI just wanted to see you and Athena” Elise tells you, giving you a look that says “I know you’re hiding something.”

You take a deep breath before exposing your concerns to her, asking

“How do you tell someone who doesn’t want to hear from you that you had their baby and really miss them even though you shouldn't?”

Elise sighs, concern taking over her face. “You’ve been thinking about telling him again?” she pries, trying to get more information.

“He deserves to know! It's his daughter, I - I can’t keep that from him. I know he left, but he had his reasons..”

“No! You cannot keep defending him, Y/n! He left you and he didn’t have to, end of story” Elise argues, making your heart pang.

“He was trying to protect me! He didn’t know I was pregnant!” you defend, not ready to give up on your love.

“He left you a voicemail, y/n. A voicemail saying that he couldn’t be with you anymore because he didn’t want to put you at risk. That's bullshit! That’s not his decision!” Elise raises her voice, tired of you defending the man who left you behind.

“You’re right. He messed up. It wasn’t up to him to decide if I could handle the risk. But Athena deserves to have a father, and the longer I wait, the worse it will be. And Athena is already two months old, she’s growing so fast, and he’s missing all of it” you explain.

“So what do you want to do? Just show up at his door with Athena? What if he is angry, what if he hurts you again, y/n?” Elise asks, worried for her best friend's already broken heart.

“I don’t know, I was gonna write a letter, is that stupid?” you ask, unsure of it all.

“I don’t think it's stupid. And you’re right, Athena deserves at least the chance of having her father in her life. If you think that a letter is the best way for you to tell him, then do it” Elise tells you, and you nod. You’re still drunk, which is probably the only reason you actually went through with writing the letter, but you’re thinking clearly enough to start putting words onto paper.

“Spencer,

I know it’s been a while. Nine months to be exact. I know you think it's best if I'm not a part of your life, but I need you to hear me out. The day you left me that voicemail, I didn’t pick up because I was in the bathroom throwing up. About a week later, I found out I was pregnant. By then it was too late, you were gone, and I was too hurt to call you up and force you back into my life. I stubbornly thought that I would be enough for our baby, a capable single parent. Maybe I am, I don’t know. I’m doing the best I can. She turned two months old a week ago, and she’s starting to look just like you. She’s beautiful, Spence. I wanted to be angry enough to keep you out of her life. But I can’t. She deserves to have a father, to have two parents who absolutely adore her. I don’t expect you to come running back to me. In fact, this letter really isn’t about my feelings at all. It’s about her. If you want to be a part of her life, and I mean it Spencer, a real part of her life not some fleeting presence, then you know where to find me. If not, well, I guess nothing really changes.

- Y/n”

It took you about an hour to write the letter, with all the times you had to restart on a new piece of paper because you had written the wrong thing or your tears smeared the ink. But it was done, sealed in a white envelope that you labeled with Spencer's name and address.

The next morning, you drop it off in the outgoing mail slot, and wait.

~~~~~~~~~

Spencer puts his key in the door and pushes, relief filling his body as he enters his apartment for the first time after being gone for so long. He’s a changed man, prison bringing out the worst in him. But he’s home, and after three months of being on edge, he is somewhat relaxed. He throws his keys on the counter, noticing the large stack of mail left there. Garcia, he thinks, making a mental note to thank her later.

He’s not in the mood to go through mail, much less write anyone back, but one envelope catches his eye. He would notice your handwriting anywhere, the messy mix between cursive and script permanently ingrained in his mind. His throat catches as he reaches for the letter, his mind racing with thoughts of regret and overwhelming sadness. He misses you, more than anything. Had Mr.Scratch not been targeting the loved ones of the BAU, he wouldn’t have ended things. But he couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk putting you in harm's way, not after losing so many of the people he loved.

He tears open the envelope, pulling out the paper and beginning to read. His eyes scan word after word furiously, his heart pounding as he takes it all in. our baby, he thinks, y/n was pregnant

Spencer couldn't keep his tears in even if he tried, so overwhelmed with the news. His decision to leave you to protect you had lost him the opportunity of witnessing his baby growing, his baby being born. And now, he feels like he’s a shell of a man, a different person who is suddenly a father. He reads the letter again, this time noticing the gendered pronouns. He doesn’t know how he missed it before. She... she’s beautiful he rereads, fully absorbing the fact that he has a daughter.

Spencer doesn’t waste another second, grabbing his keys and running back out the door. Your apartment was only a few blocks away, no use in taking the car Spencer decides as he’s rushing out of the elevator. So, with his heart pounding and mind racing, he runs. He’s never run so fast in his life, and honestly he’s in no shape to be doing so now but even with his lungs heaving he can’t stop.

He reaches the building, gasping for air as he pulls out his key. She never asked for it back , he thinks as he unlocks the door, catching his breath as he hits the up button on the elevator. Spencer regrets taking the elevator as soon as he’s inside, his body tensing up being confined in small quarters again. But he shakes it off, focusing on the fact that he's seconds away from seeing you again. Seconds away from meeting his daughter. He darts out of the tiny elevator, turning left and running down the hall - he can’t move fast enough. Then he sees it, your door, with the same small floral stickers surrounding the apartment number. Before he can think twice, he’s raising his hand to knock on your door.

~~~~~~~~

You’re making yourself some lunch when you hear a knock on your door. “Fucking landlord i’m so tired of his bullshit” you mutter as you go swing open the door. The butterknife in your hand drops as soon as you see Spencer’s face there in front of you. “Spencer” you breathe out, in complete disbelief.

“Uh, sorry, here” Spencer fumbles, leaning down to grab the knife from the floor and hand it back to you. You accept it, eyes wide and in shock as you wait for what he will say next.

“I got your letter” he says, pulling it from his bag to show you - as if you weren’t the one who wrote it in the first place.

“That's it? That’s all you have to say to me? You got my letter. And what spencer? Give me a reason to let you inside” you say, tears already brimming.

“I was in prison-” Spencer starts, his body language shifting as he begins to explain himself, “for the last three months. I was framed, but that’s not why I left. I knew that the guy we were hunting down would stop at nothing to hurt everyone at the BAU and I couldn't- I couldn’t put you in his path. I couldn’t be the reason you got sucked into his mess. Really I didn’t want to bring you any further into mine-” he rambles, eyes looking into yours.

You finally take in how he looks, tired, run down, like he’s just been through hell. And from what he’s telling you, he has been. You go to open your mouth but he cuts you off, “then I got arrested, before we got him. And I don't want to lie to you and tell you that he’s gone. He’s not. But I couldn’t stay away. I- I left because I thought I was doing the right thing but it's not the right thing to do anymore," Spencer explains, emotion filling his voice.

“Then what's the right thing to do spencer?” you ask, praying he answers the way you’ve been dreaming of for the past nine months.

“Be with you. With our baby. I- I made a mistake, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. And if you don’t want me back because you can’t forgive me I understand. But I want to be here for our daughter. I'll make the time. I’ve got some time off from work and I can take more- I just- I can’t let her grow up the way I did. Without a father.” Spencer says, a single tear falling down his cheek.

He’s going to keep rambling, you know it, but you move to wrap your arms around him - surprising him enough to stop him from speaking. He smells the same, the masculine but sweet vanilla scent filling your nose again. He sobs as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you as close to him as possible. “I forgive you” you whisper through your own tears, Spencer's body stilling as he hears the words. He pulls away from you, looking down to watch your eyes, unsure if you’re just saying that because he’s crying all over you.

“Ten minutes ago, no, I wouldn't have. But I understand now, and I know you’re being honest. And god, I’ve missed you, Spence” you tell him and he pulls you into his chest again.

“I- Thank you. I’ll never do this to you again. I’m so sorry” he says as he holds you. It feels like time is standing still until your daughter’s cries sound through the door.

“Fuck. I gotta get her, she’s probably hungry-” you say and turn, but Spencer grabs your arm. “Can I meet her? Please” he begs, and you slowly nod, suddenly overcome with nervousness. You open the door wider, letting Spencer in so you can both set your stuff down and grab your daughter. He looks terrified, standing in the middle of your apartment waiting for you to tell him what to do. Her poor cries are making his heart pang, and he wants to run in the room to rescue her but he knows it’s up to you.

You grab his hand, pulling him along with you as you open the door to your bedroom - Athena crying from her cot next to your bed. Spencer gasps as he sees her, and you drop his hand, moving to grab your crying baby.

“Shhhh baby, i’m here shhh” you soothe her, Spencer watching in awe as she starts to calm down almost instantly. Athena is hungry, you can just tell, but she can wait a few more minutes to eat. Meeting her dad is more important.

“Spence, meet your daughter” you say, moving so that he can see Athena more clearly in your arms.

He is crying again, but this time tears of joy, of disbelief. You were right, she looks like him and she’s so beautiful. “She’s perfect” he says, his eyes not moving from her for even a second.

“Do you want to hold her?” you ask, and he nods, shakily moving his arms to accommodate her little body. You place her in his arms and she cries for a second, but then looks up at him and stops. Spencer doesn’t move, just looks down at his baby girl as she looks back up at him.

“Well I think she knows you’re someone special - she’d be crying for anyone else” you say, offering him words of encouragement.

“Hi, um, im spencer - no, i- uh- i'm your dad” he says to Athena, and she blinks unaware.

“She likes you” you tell Spencer, tilting your head motioning to the living room so that he follows. He carries her so gently, moving so slowly as he takes a seat on the couch.

“You said she was hungry, does she formula feed or breastfeed? Is that inappropriate to ask?” Spencer questions, making you laugh.

“You're her dad, of course you can ask. I breastfeed her but I pump as well, I’ve got a bottle I can prepare for her if you want to feed her” you reply, his eyes lighting up.

“I'll take that reaction as a yes” you say and grab your breast milk from the fridge, moving to warm it up.

Spencer looks precious holding Athena, he’s making faces and smiling, letting his guard down. Athena looks absolutely enamored with Spencer, like she intuitively knows she’s with her dad. “Here, she might fight back because it's not my boob but, it should be fine” you explain as you hand the bottle to him.

“I’d fight too given the other option” Spencer remarks and you’re astonished. Did he just make a joke? About your boob?

“Spence!” you gasp, and he looks just as shocked as you.

“Uh, Freudian slip i guess, sorry” he mumbles, focusing on getting Athena to take the bottle. “No, it's fine, just um, unexpected. It’s good to see you letting loose” you comfort him, watching as Athena takes the bottle with no problems. Shocker.

“Yeah, no going back now, she’s a daddy’s girl” you tell him, a little in awe of how fast Athena grew to love him.

“I love her” Spencer whispers, overcome with such an intense feeling of love he couldn’t even begin to put it into words. Spencer Reid is speechless, and he doesn’t even know his daughter’s name. Wait, I don’t even know her name, he thinks.

“Y/n, her name, I don’t - what’s her name?” Spencer asks, butterflies filling your chest.

You loved her name, it was perfect for her. Named after the Greek goddess of wisdom, it was only fitting for a child with the genes of a genius. But you couldn’t help but worry that he would hate it.

“Y/n? Please tell me, if she has your last name that’s fine. I understand, just, I want to know what to call her” Spencer begs, and you nod.

“Athena Diana Reid” you say, and Spencer's mouth drops.

“Listen- I know Diana isn’t my mother, and I wasn’t trying to overstep, but I figured that if Athena never got to know her father at least her name would be entirely related to him. I understand if you’re mad, but-” you start rambling and he cuts you off

“Marry me” Spencer says, moving the now empty bottle to the table as he stares at you. “W-what?” you gasp, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“Okay, that’s my fault, I know it’s unexpected but, you’re the mother of my child, and quite frankly the love of my life, and I spent so much time away from you wishing I was back here loving you and I don’t want to waste anymore time. Let’s be a family. Marry me, y/n” he proposes, and you’re crying. It’s the last thing you expected. In your wildest dreams all you hoped for was him showing up at the door, much less the fact that he would still be in love with you and adore your daughter.

“Yes” you say, and Spencer gets up from the couch, Athena still in his arms as he moves to kiss you.

It’s a cinematic kiss, other than the awkwardness of having a baby between the two of you. Regardless, it's magical, your lips moving together perfectly, just like they used to.

You pull apart, out of air, and Spencer smiles.

“In case you couldn’t tell, I love her name. Thank you for thinking of me, for including me even though I'm an idiot” Spencer tells you.

“Spencer, you’re a textbook genius. Shut up. And of course I thought of you, you’re all I thought about. I loved you - I love you” you correct yourself and he kisses you again, Athena squirming in his arms.

He starts to laugh in the kiss as Athena wiggles her little legs, and you just smile.

“I think she’s trying to get our attention” you say, and Spencer nods.

“Or maybe she needs to be burped” Spencer suggests, and you nod, replying

“Yeah, I think we’re gonna be just fine. You’re a natural”

“I’ve read a surprising amount of parenting books, just out of curiosity. Plus there was that one time I birthed a baby at work-” Spencer explains himself but you cut him off,

“Just take the freaking compliment, Spence”

~~~~~~~~~

Spencer didn’t go back to his apartment that night, not after finding a place where he felt like himself again. He knew he was damaged, you knew he was damaged, but if anything could help heal him, it was your love and his daughter, Athena Diana Reid.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

[goldenblu]

ohhh my gosh that whole mask sanji idea has me REELING. sanji gains emotions the hard way but he's constantly questioning if it's real or not, if it's still an act, if it has ever been an act, who is his loyalty to now, to his country or his crew? which family? and maybe stealth black has been a mask as well, maybe that cruel, apathetic assassin is a product of pretending for the vinsmokes- so is there anything left of him that is not hollow desire to play for affection?

even if there isn't. the strawhats will love every part of him they find. maybe it will be hard at first, maybe they will feel betrayed and lost and angry. but he is nakama, and a mask is still a product of skin and bone. he has always been capable of being sanji.

like no pressure to continue on this idea in fic form but my god, if you have any more thoughts on this or anything like it i would pay to see them <3 it's so beautiful

YOU. YOU GET IT.

asdksfja;lksjf sanji realizes that he’s come to see the strawhats as something more than a target, a tool to use and then cast away.

(he doesn’t dare to think the word family because that would be a betrayal of his real family, wouldn’t it? it would be an admission of his failure, and he refuses to be a failure.)

it’s all part of the act, he tells himself. it doesn’t mean anything. it won’t last.

but it doesn’t change the fact that he remembers all the strawhats’ favorite foods, that he knows how tell when chopper needs a little hot chocolate pick-me-up, that fighting back to back with zoro feels in sync and familiar in a way that it shouldn’t. all of these useless pieces of information and instincts that he shouldn’t have but does anyway.

so sanji panics—and isn’t that a new experience for him, panicking. every time the strawhats look at him, they see someone who doesn’t actually exist, shouldn’t exist. it makes him feel some emotion that he’s never felt before and can’t identify. it’s terrible; he can’t stand to be this person he’s not for any longer.

maybe he’s the one to reveal his true identity and goal to the strawhats. because he knows he’s in too deep; he needs to cut these ties himself and finish the mission he should have finished long ago.

or maybe it’s not up to him at all, maybe judge sends one of his brothers to find him because he’s taking too long. ichiji or whoever shows up on the sunny, gets a laugh out of sanji trying to play house on a boat, and then announces that sanji doesn’t need to pretend anymore, it’s time to deal the finishing blow and return home with whatever information he’s acquired.

however it happens, sanji does the whole “my name is vinsmoke sanji” speech from wci except it’s real this time, and that’s how the truth comes out. which is fine, it doesn’t matter what the strawhats think of him. it’s better this way, it’s better that they know where sanji’s true loyalties lie: with germa.

(right? this has always been an indisputable fact. so why does he feel so conflicted about it now?)

i don’t know how the plot would play out from here but later, when push comes to shove, sanji realizes at the very last minute that all he’s doing is exchanging one mask for another. he can’t go back to how things were before—his father won’t like that one of his perfect sons is compromised with such weaknesses, but more than that, sanji doesn’t want to be the emotionless third prince of germa anymore.

(the thought he won’t allow himself to think: maybe he never did.)

he never realized before that it was possible to have the freedom to choose, but he does now. so he pulls an uno reverse card and instead of betraying the strawhats, he betrays the only life he’s ever known and saves the strawhats instead, very publicly turning his back on the vinsmokes. the details of how exactly this happens escape me but let’s assume he’s successful in telling germa to fuck off. (for now, at least. i imagine this doesn’t last since judge would be unimaginably angry and go after him, but that’s a problem for later sanji.)

regardless, when it’s all said and done, sanji doesn’t expect the strawhats to allow him back onto the crew. he’s not a good person, he’s deceived and killed hundreds of people in cold blood. he lied to them, betrayed them, pretended to be someone he’s not. the strawhats know that now. by all rights, they should want to kill him. most people would. sanji would.

but they don’t. sanji doesn’t know what they see in him, but whatever it is, it’s enough for luffy accept him even after everything he’s done. admittedly, the rest of the crew still has their reservations; it’s clear enough that they’re hurt and angry and wary of him.

you broke our trust, nami tells him.

i know. sanji hesitates, and then says, i’m sorry.

it’s new to him, this feeling of guilt eating away at him, and he almost stumbles over the words. he’s never had to apologize before, not genuinely. stealth black doesn’t apologize. stealth black doesn’t feel regret.

but he’s not stealth black anymore. he’s someone else. he doesn’t know who, exactly, but he does know who he wants to be. black leg sanji, the man who only existed on this ship for these past few weeks/months, the man who was capable of caring and being cared for—sanji wants that to be real.

luffy’s giving you a chance to rebuild it, nami says. so don’t waste it.

it’s hard, at first. sanji has never not had to play a role before so now he’s confronted with the question: what parts of him are the result of the persona he puts on and what parts are truly sanji? he’s worn a mask in some form or another for so long—certain things are so ingrained in him that he can’t tell the difference anymore.

the next time he cooks dinner, he wonders: is this desire to feed his the crew real, or is it a leftover habit from black leg sanji? the next time he kills someone for going after the strawhats, he wonders: this ruthless capacity for violence, does that come from himself or from vinsmoke sanji?

but maybe it doesn’t matter where it came from because he can make it his. because nothing can take away the fact that for the first time, sanji is doing what he wants to do and not just what he’s told to do.

he says as much to luffy, who smiles and responds, i always knew you could do it.

and over time, the strawhats begin to trust him again. usopp stops being quite so nervous around him. nami starts working on her maps in the galley again, and this time sanji doesn’t have to lie when she asks him questions about the islands he’s been to. zoro tells him that he’d better not hold back during their spars, so sanji stops trying to hide it and lets his sharp edges stay sharp and dangerous and deadly. chopper learns the truth about sanji’s physical enhancements but it doesn’t stop him from worrying over him anyway, which makes sanji’s chest feel warm for some reason.

(and that’s a whole other thing—now sanj has to figure out how the fuck he’s supposed to deal with having emotions because holy shit do you people feel this way all the time?? it’s so much, it’s overwhelming.

he keeps having to ask: what is this feeling or that feeling or that feeling?? and everyone teaches him: fear. sadness. happiness. all things that sanji once thought were impossible for him to feel.)

he still struggles to balance kindness and cruelty sometimes—though he’s capable of feeling compassion now, it’s mainly only ever for the strawhats, and he’s still merciless to anyone he considers an enemy. in any case, his crew is there to support him, to help him figure out: who is he in the absence of everything that’s defined the last nineteen years of his life?

the answer? the cook of the strawhat pirates, sanji. just sanji. that’s who he is and who he’ll always be.

#one piece #sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #stealth black sanji au #i need to come up with better au names lmao #got a bit sappy at the end there but it’s okay IN THIS HOUSE WE EMBRACE CRINGE #ask #mine #my writing #in a perfect world i would write a fic for this but alas it’s not gonna happen #don’t have the bandwidth and also #(slight spoiler warning for hold your fire) #i think it might overlap a bit with what i have planned for the second half of hyf hehe #WHICH I STILL HAVENT STARTED WRITING YET orz

[sparrow-stunned]

Ummmm if requests are open can I request yan!ayato x f!reader. Reader discovered she's pregnant after being forced into a marriage by ayato, and decides to plan an escape?

tw: fem reader / pregnancy / yandere / controlling behaviour / mentions of drugging / physical imprisonment

i am 50 years late, but some thoughts:

ayato smiling more than usual when he finds out the news from the healer—and of course, this healer is loyal to him too, a woman that's a part of his shuumatsuban operatives. so he finds out immediately. of course he does. he wraps his arms around you and murmurs that it's amazing, how much happiness you give him (as if you'd ever, willingly, given him anything.)

ayato is a family man. he cherishes the idea of family, always protects and chases after the concept, on account of his father and mother passing away early. the entire household finds out the news, ayaka first, and she's so enamoured by the thought of having a niece/nephew, always asking after your needs or wants, glancing at your stomach.

you always demur when ayaka asks how you feel, never admitting how it itches at you sometimes, knowing that the child in you belly is of his seed. but it's also yours too. a proof of your survival, that despite ayato having stolen you away from you family (though stolen is perhaps not the right word—bargained, perhaps), you're still alive, if not thriving then at least surviving. you're capable of life, even in the most desolate of places, trapped in a gilded cage of silk and yumemiru.

you dream of the child sometimes, in your arms after birth, peaceful dreams when it resembles your father or mother or you, nightmares when you catch blue tufts of hair and pale violet eyes. you wake up in cold sweat, touching a hand to your stomach, where the bump has begun to portrude, and feel the urge to throw up. ayato is always around you immediately, asking the servant to fetch water, and then murmurs of how he'll protect you, that you won't go the way of his mother and father, because he has that power now.

you heart shrivels whenever he touches you, whenever he makes these vows, resentment beginning to splinter what's left of your ability to feel tenderness.

no. you refuse to let ayato influence your love for your child. if it looks like ayato, you will still love them. but you can't do that if you're forever in the embrace of this man who makes your gums ache, your joints creak, as if you'd already aged a hundred years. in the kamisato estate, love cannot flower at all, so you plan your escape.

it's not easy. you never have privacy to ask for anything, let alone something as risky as passage off of inazuma. but you grit your teeth and forcibly make the opportunity, stray touches here and there, sultry eyes to let him know you're receptive to his touches, and you change. you no longer flinch and act so hateful toward him in private. lowering his guard like this, bit by bit, until he gives you have slivers of freedom that you gulp down like a man dying of hunger, grabbing onto the tiny openings of your windowless castle and prying it open, asking for news here and there until you've cobbled enough savings to bribe a man to take you if not to mainland teyvat, then at least ritou where less people will know who you are.

the bright crack of dawn comes: you sneak out of the estate, surprisingly easy. ayato is asleep thanks to the sleeping draught you'd slipped him last night in his tea, and he doesn't even stir as you remove yourself from his side. you feel the shackles coming off as you tiptoe out of the compound, sandals lifting over the wooden threshold. but then—

"having fun, dear wife?"

you almost slip, catching yourself on the door frame. numbness spreading from your fingertips to your neck, you turn. ayato's standing there, leaning against the wall as he watches you with amused eyes. no trace of anger. just amusement, like a god watching his followers from up on high.

you open your mouth, intending to make your excuses, and almost sob instead. you were so close. so close you'd almost felt it, the sensation of ocean water kissing your fingertips as you sit on that boat, your lovely unborn child beneath your other hand as you'd murmur sweet nothings about how your lives would be nothing but joy.

and now, this. "i know pregnancy boredom is quite unbearable," ayato sighs as he reaches for your shoulders. "but you shouldn't be so mischievous, hm? the shuumatsuban have their hands full as it is, let alone keeping track of my own wife. first that medicine, and now this. you know better than to try to go off on your own. it's not safe."

you shudder as he picks you up, sweeping you up into his arms as he'd done before you'd entered the bridal chamber on your wedding night. left with no avenue but to play obedient, you rest your head against his shoulder and caress your belly while whispering, "i'm sorry. i won't... i won't do it again."

ayato hums. you feel the vibration of it, how it makes a hollow instrument out of your body. "of course you won't. it'll be hard to move with the shackles on your feet, after all."

#yandere ayato x reader #yandere kamisato ayato #yandere ayato #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere x reader #yandere #psyche.writes #psyche.answers #anonymous asks #psyche.dabbles

[liquidluckandstuff]

“Will you stay?”

“Will you stay?”

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Stay? Him? Of all people?

He turned back and looked into the cold cell. Voldemort looked pathetic in the prisoner garb they gave him, Harry was surprised they offered him anything to wear in the first place. 

“Why should I?” It was a fair question. Harry couldn’t assume the man wanted anything innocent. He had no idea what the man was capable of. It’s why he was locked in their most guarded cell in the first place. 

The dementors were close enough that Voldemort could feel the chill in his old bones, but far enough away he couldn’t speak to them. The man had quite the sway over them during his reign in the war, and no one was willing to take a chance.

Voldemort shrugged at Harry’s answer. It was so unlike him that Harry had to shake his head. How far the dark lord had fallen. 

“If you give me an answer, I’ll stay a little longer,” Harry reasoned. 

He looked up at him then, the shadows covering his face did nothing to hide his sunken cheekbones and red eyes. “Promise?”

A chill went down Harry’s spine at his childlike tone. “If you give me a good enough answer, then yes I promise.”

“You always keep your promises. Not like them,” The man spat as he pulled his thin legs close to his chest. 

Harry tapped his foot impatiently. “Well?”

A smile formed on Voldemort’s face. So innocent and full of hope. “I remember your name.”

“My... name?”

“Uh hu,” Then the man crawled closer to the edge of the cell until his skeletal fingers could wrap around the bars. “I don’t remember anyone else’s name. But I remember yours.” 

Harry sighed, and sat down next to him. It was a good answer. He might as well keep his promise. 

“And how did you remember my name?” 

“I was thinking of flying. And… a stag. It was big and blue and fought off those big hooded men that like to whisper at the end of the corridor.”

“You saw them?” If the dementors were getting brave enough to get close enough for Voldemrot to see them that would be a problem. What if he recognized them? What if they triggered the wrong memory-

“I don’t think they like me very much,” the man confessed. 

“Right,” Harry sighed. “Well then… What's my name?”

Voldemort’s eyes went wide and he looked around like Harry had said something scandalous. “I’m not supposed to say, they’ll get mad.”

“Who will get mad?”

In response, Voldemort shook his head in fear. 

“Who will get mad? It’s okay. I won’t tell.”

“They’ll hurt you,” Voldemort whispered as he looked around. “They hit you and starve you and keep you locked in a cupboard.”

“I-” No one knew that. Not really. His friends sort of knew what his childhood was like, but they didn’t have any details. “That was a very long time ago.”

“No, no it was yesterday,” Tears filled Voldemort’s red eyes. “They don’t love you. They never loved you and you tried so hard-”

“It’s… it’s okay now. I have a new family that loves me very much,” Harry comforted awkwardly. How did one comfort a crying Dark Lord anyway? “It’s over now.”

“No it’s not,” Voldemort insisted. “It still hurts you on the inside. There.” One long thin hand reached through the bars and pointed directly at Harry’s heart. “They don’t want you to say your name because they are afraid of you.” 

Harry didn’t know what to say. So he said the only thing he could think of “I’m sorry.” He didn’t want anyone to know about his past. It was embarrassing enough that the hero of the wizarding world couldn’t get past being unloved as a child. What kind of hero still years for parental love?

“I would have stopped them,” Voldemort said assuredly, suddenly sounding more like himself. “I would have made them regret ever hurting you.”

“I know,” Harry whispered. And he did.  If there was anything that was left of Voldemort it was a hatred of muggles and a desire for a justice he would never understand. 

“Will you stay?” Voldemort asked again. 

Harry shook his head. He wasn’t supposed to stay near Voldemort for very long. No one was supposed to, not after everything he did. But with his memory lost because of how many horcruxes they destroyed, and with him being reduced to… well a child trapped in a murderer's body, Harry couldn’t help but pity him. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll be back next week,” Harry promised.

#horror? #Voldemort loses #Harry Potter #Voldemort #Harry is always too kind #Harrymort #Tomarry

[missrosegold]

and if my body should fade i'll trust you with my soul part II

Part I can be found here

Synopsis: You’ve always been able to see the man with white hair and charred skin around your village, even though it seemed that nobody else could.

Or, you ended up making a deal with death, and now he’s come to collect.

Word count: 30k

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem reader)

Warnings: Mentions of death, strong language, smut, so Minors or ageless blogs DNI. This is rated 18+ Additional tags listed below. This does take place in a somewhat medieval inspired AU so there are some misogynistic tones in some parts of the story.

Playlist: Sparky Deathcap – September (we got fire) instrumental version, slowed.

Thank you once again to the lovely @candycandy00 for editing this for me, and another massive thank you to miss @kimkaelyn for making the banner for me! (I love it so much!)

You sigh to yourself as you check medical supplies in your village’s apothecary, making a mental note to tell the healer you’re training under that you’re running low on Feverfew and Echinacea.

Fall has arrived in full swing. The dense forest that surrounds your town has changed its leaves from vibrant green to beautiful shades of red and yellow. It’s beautiful, but you’ve never been much of a fall person. You know what comes next. The autumn months mean winter is close behind, and you’ve never liked the cold. For some reason, you can’t shake the feeling that this upcoming winter is going to be a particularly bad one.

You shake your head and return to your task at hand, but you can’t stop your mind from wandering as you continue to take stock of the medical inventory.

After the mysterious disappearance of your betrothed, your parents didn’t try to engage you to anyone else, and you can’t help but feel relieved. Marrying one of the men from your village was never in the cards for you, a fact that you made very clear to them after your formal betrothal’s disappearance. You weren’t interested in marriage or raising a family of your own. Not right now, possibly not ever.

In the end, you decided to train under your village’s healer – a kind old woman named Chiyo, who’s been the town healer for longer than you’ve been alive – as a means of getting out from under your parents.

Despite word of your betrothal’s mysterious disappearance quickly spreading throughout your village, there had been some other potential suitors that had come to you after you had started training at the apothecary. While none of them were rude or malicious, you always turned them down with a gentle smile before sending them on their way.

Besides, none of them held your heart the way a certain pyromancer did.

You haven’t seen Touya for a few months now, not since the disappearance of your betrothed. You’re not completely sure what happened after Touya found him – you’re not sure if you want to know, even though you have a pretty good idea of what happened if the fresh burns he had come back with had anything to say about it. You know better than to ask though, knowing full well that Touya will never tell you the full truth, even if you already know without him having to say it.

You sometimes wonder if there’s anything left of the blacksmith’s son.

You know that you should feel shocked, horrified even, that your pyromancer was capable of doing such an atrocious thing. But all you feel when you think about it, is a strange sense of relief.

You wonder if that makes you a bad person.

Inwardly, you know it probably should, especially when the blacksmith came looking for his son not long after his disappearance. When he had asked you if you knew anything about why his son had seemingly taken off without so much as a word to anyone, you had said no, of course, because what else could you have said to him? It’s not like anyone aside from you could see Touya to begin with, and there no way to explain to the blacksmith the fate that had most likely befallen his son.

Regardless, all you knew was that you’d never see him again. Touya had made sure of that.

There are still search parties that go out every once in a while, looking for him and a part of you wants to tell them that it’s a waste of time, that he’s nowhere to be found, but you won’t. It’s yours and Touya’s dirty secret to share now, and it will stay that way until you take your dying breath.

You suppress a sigh as you take a break from checking inventory, and your thoughts wander back to Touya of their own accord. He had warned you that he wouldn’t be back for some time after he had brought you home – he had serious business to take care of in the eastern part of the country, and he wasn’t sure when he’d be back. You hope he’s doing well, wherever he is.

Your heart clenches when you think of him. You’re not sure what you are anymore. You told him that you loved him, and even though he didn’t say it back to you, you’re certain that he loves you too.

“You know why.” Those words have echoed in your head since he said them to you. You’ve known that the two of you have been bordering on the cusp of something for a while now, and that solidifies it.

You promise yourself that the next time he comes to see you, you’ll ask him what you are to him. What this is.

Eventually, Chiyo dismisses you in the midafternoon, and you find yourself taking the lonely path up towards Dabi’s temple. You’ve started going there a lot more in Touya’s absence. Ever since you kissed the white-haired pyromancer in Dabi’s temple, you had started making a habit of coming back to the derelict temple, in an effort to clean it up a little.

For some reason, Touya seems to have a fondness for the place, and you’re starting to understand why. Despite its outward appearance and dust covered insides, you’ve never once felt unwelcome in the temple itself. It’s calm and quiet, and the more you visit the abandoned shrine, you realize it’s really a shame that it was abandoned by the priests, because it was probably quite beautiful back in the day.

With that thought, you had decided to take it upon yourself to try and restore the temple back to its original glory.

When you had brought up what you wanted to clean Dabi’s shrine to the priests at Hawks’s temple, you had been met with disbelieving looks, as the temple itself had sat vacant for well over a century. But once you had assured them that you weren’t there to cause trouble, and that you only wanted to clean it up a little, they had relented, and even gave you cleaning supplies, telling you that if you needed help, all you needed to do was come and get them.

You had laughed to yourself as you took the cleaning supplies back with you to the temple. The only reason why you had gone to them in the first place was to tell them what you planned to do, regardless of whether they liked it or not. Hawks’s temple was the closest to Dabi’s, and you’d end up walking past it to get to the secluded shrine more often than not. The last thing you needed was them assuming that you were doing something strange, when it was the exact opposite.

You soon found yourself in front of the large double doors once more, but unlike the first time you had entered the temple, you didn’t hesitate to let yourself in this time, shutting them softly behind you. You set your shawl down by the entrance and take off your shoes to avoid tracking any dirt in from the outside. You breathe in deeply as the faint smell of incense hits your nose, looking around the large room with a content smile on your face.

It’s not perfect, but its far better than what it was previously. You’ve washed and cleaned the floors and walls, sweeping out almost a century’s worth of dust and other debris. You’ve scraped the ancient remains of melted candle wax off the alter in front of Dabi’s statue, and replaced the melted down prayer candles with new ones. You brought in some pillows and plush rugs from home that your mother was about to throw out, not wanting them to go to waste, and also wanting to make the temple more homey, in case anyone aside from yourself wanted to visit. You keep incense burning constantly to get rid of the musty smell that has always lingered around the temple, and it finally seems to be working. Lastly, with the help of two priests from Hawks’s temple, you were finally able to fix that damn hole in the ceiling above the statue of the Cremation God.

Now you’re at the temple to do one last thing: clean the giant marble statue of the Death God himself. You didn’t see much of a point cleaning it before the hole got fixed, but thankfully, the sculpture doesn’t seem to be very dirty. Still, you want to go over it, and wash down what you can reach – it’s only polite after all.

Besides, after what you learned about him from Touya, you figure that it’s not a bad idea to stay in the illusive god’s good graces--

“Hello Princess.”

You jump at the sound of a familiar smoky rasp, and whirl around, only to see Touya standing a few feet behind you, a smirk plastered across his dis-coloured lips.

“Touya! When did you get here? I thought you said you didn’t know when you were going to be back! Did you finish with whatever you were doing in the East early?” you gasp delightedly, as the tall man strides towards you. He shakes his head.

“No, the situation there is a bit more… serious then I originally thought. I’m probably going to be there for a while yet, but I had some time, and I wanted to see you.” He stops directly in front of you, and his smirk becomes softer. “How have you been? I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been… keeping busy.” You tell him, lacing your hands together in front of you. “I’ve started working at the village apothecary. Chiyo runs a tight ship, but I’m learning a lot from her and she’s good to me.”

“What did your parents think about that?”

“Well… they weren’t pleased, but that’s more to do with me telling them that I won’t be courting anyone anytime soon. I told them I wasn’t interested, nor will I ever be. My mother isn’t happy, but at least she hasn’t forced me into any other engagements… not after what happened before you left.” You tell him honestly, and Touya only nods, his expression not giving anything away.

“Glad they’ve finally taken the hint. What else have you gotten up to, pretty girl?”

“Take a look around, you tell me.” You tell him with a tiny smile. You watch his brows furrow together in confusion, and he looks around the room, only for his eyes to widen, like he’s seeing the temple for the first time.

You watch as he investigates the plush rugs and pillows you have scattered around the base of the alter, how he takes in the sight of fresh prayer candles lit at the bottom of the statue – how clean and bright and warm you’ve managed to make it, since you were both here last. He seems overwhelmed, like he’s at a loss for words.

“I did it for you.” You admit softly, feeling your face heat up with your admission.

“You did this… for me?” he asks slowly, not looking at you, as he takes in everything that you’ve done. You smile softly at him even though he can’t see it.

“You seem to be pretty fond of this place, and you know so much about its history, I thought that maybe I could fix it up a little so I could have something to show you when you came back.” That gets his attention, and he fixes his azure eyes on you, locking you in place.

“You did this for me.”

“I… yes… Do you not like it?” you sputter, suddenly worried that you’ve done something wrong.

“No, Gods no. You did this for me.” He says breathlessly. “This is more than I could have ever hoped for.” He closes the remaining space between you, and his obscenely warm hands find your waist, while yours automatically come rest on his chest. “God’s you did this for me.”

“Yes.” You whisper. “Touya? I don’t understand--?”

The words die on your lips as Touya surges forwards and presses his rough lips to yours. You feel the grip he has on your waist turn bruising, as he kisses you hard and deep, bordering on desperate.

“I love you.” He tells you, pulling away momentarily to bring one hand up from your waist to cup the back of your neck. “I love you. You were the first person to see me in so long – I knew you were different, I knew you were for me, and then you did this-“

He smashes his lips back onto yours, and you wrap your hands around his neck. Normally, you’d be mindful of his burns, but you’re so engrossed in his feverish kisses that you squeeze him tightly, and feel him moan into your mouth in response. He pulls back slightly for air, and pants heavily against you.

“Let me have you.” He growls against your lips. “Right here, right now. Gods help me I can’t wait any longer. I need to have you. I need you.”

“Okay, I—okay—yes.” You hear yourself gasping, and suddenly you’re swept off your feet. You feel your back hit something soft. Turning your head slightly to the side, you realize that Touya has placed you down onto a small pile of pillows. The realization of what you’re about to do hits you full force, but you don’t feel scared. You want this, you want him. You’ve wanted him for a long time.

Touya looms over you, caging you in, and runs the back of a heavily scared hand over your cheek. You shiver from the sensation of his feverishly hot skin and the cooler tones of the staples in his hand running over your skin. He gives you a wicked smile, as he sits back on his haunches, and starts to push your skirts up, revealing your bare legs.

You lurch up and grab his hands, forcing him to pause. He chuckles low in his throat at your actions, and pries your hands off of his own, placing a kiss on the back of one as his azure blue eyes meets your flushed face. “Relax my love. Let me take care of you.”

“It’s just- I mean, I’ve never done this before. I’m-“

“I know.” Touya damn near purrs, and you feel heat pool in your belly. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll be so gentle with you, I promise.”

You nod shakily and lower yourself back down onto the pillows, as Touya hikes your skirts up, revealing your legs and bottoms. He groans deeply as he kneads the plush of your thighs. “Fuck Princess, you’re perfect. Just like I knew you would be.”

“You’ve thought about me?” For some reason, his words of endearment strike a chord with you.

“Of course.” Touya murmurs, coming up to kiss you briefly, before taking your hand in one of his own. “Whenever I’m away, or I’m in the middle of a mission – alone and lonely – I think of you.”

He brings your hand down to his crotch, and sure enough, you feel a bulge underneath his pants. “See what you do to me?” he growls as he releases your hand so that he can work on shimmying your panties down your legs. You go to move your hand away, but he fixes you with a stern look. “Keep it there. Don’t move until I tell you to.”

You nod as he hooks his fingers into the band of your panties and leans back slightly to pull them down your legs, almost ripping them off in his haste. As soon as the offending material is gone, Touya gently wraps his hands around you knees and pulls them up so your feet are planted on the ground, before nestling his way back in between them, not taking his eyes off of the junction in between your legs.

“Gods.” He whispers. “Fuck.”

You feel him throb in the thick canvases of his pants as he runs a finger through your folds, causing you to shudder and clench around nothing. “God love, you’re fucking soaked.” Touya hisses, as he pushes your hand away from his hardness and rips his cloak over his head, revealing his bare chest to you.

In all the years that you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him this exposed. His chest is a patchwork of scars and staples just like his arms and face. Most of the skin is dead and badly burnt, but you do see some spots where there are still glimpses of healthy skin amongst the mess of purpled burns. Just like you suspected, his body is lean but ripped with corded muscles that bunch and flex with his every move. He looks like he was built by a god – a god with a twisted sense of humor – but you could care less. You think he’s perfect.

“You’re beautiful.” You tell him honestly – not wanting him to think you were focusing only on his burns – and he looks almost bashful at your words, letting a small chuckle escape him as he gently picks up one of your hands to press a quick kiss on the back of your knuckles.

“Look who’s talking.” He fires back at you, as he uses his thumbs to spread your lower lips apart. It should be embarrassing how wet you are from a little teasing, but Touya looks absolutely enthralled. 

“Is all this for me?” he muses to himself softly. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he bends down and swipes his tongue through your folds, causing you to moan loudly and try to slam your legs closed on impulse, but Touya is faster – forcing them to stay open with a hand on each inner thigh as he continues to lap at your pussy.

You whimper involuntarily from the ministrations, and Touya squeezes your thighs as he comes back up. “I know, I know love. I can’t wait any longer either. Goddamn-“ he almost snarls; his hands immediately going to his belt, as he unfastens it and tosses it to the side somewhere.

“I can’t believe someone as beautiful as you is letting someone like me do this to them.” he mutters as he pushes his pants down to just past mid-thigh, allowing his dick to spring free – and through you’ve never seen a man’s cock until now – you’re certain that it’s the prettiest one that you’ll ever see.

It’s long and thick and curves slightly upwards. It’s as pale as the undamaged parts of his skin and you think it looks quite lovely. You’re a little nervous about the size of it, but Touya doesn’t allow you to look at it for long, before he’s lining himself up to your entrance.

You swallow thickly as you feel how big and hot the head is pressed up against your tight entrance, and Touya must sense your hesitation, because he drapes himself over you, supporting himself on his hands, as he takes both your hands in one of his own, and gently pins them above your head, stooping down to kiss you once more.

“Breathe.” He murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips hotly. “I’ll make you feel so good. Just lie back and breathe for me, my love.”

And with that, he slowly pushes himself in.

The stretch is delicious and you know that he’s ruined you for any other potential man. But there’s never been anyone else, has there? From the moment you officially met, it’s always been him. It will only ever be him.

Touya is cursing above you, but you can’t hear him – too lost in your own pleasure. It isn’t long before he’s picking up a steady rhythm, his hips hitting against yours with a wet smack. You’re so wet from his earlier teasing that he glides in and out with little resistance, and you feel your legs starting to shake from the waves of pleasure he’s inflicting upon you.

“Gods, how are you so tight?” Touya groans as he leans down to capture your lips with his. You kiss him back eagerly, wishing that your hands were free so you could wrap them around his neck, but he only tightens his grip on them when he feels you start to resist against his hold. He pulls back after a moment to take in your pretty face and glassy eyes, his hips not slowing down, as they continue to rut into yours.

“You’re mine.” He snarls hotly, swooping down to suck a mark onto the junction of your neck and shoulder, causing you to cry out and clench around him.

“You’re mine- fuck it, you’re mine, no one else’s.” He sucks another mark onto the other side of your neck, and you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, as something in your lower stomach snaps – the wet sounds of your union becoming louder as you cum around his cock. Touya’s hips falter for a fraction of a second as he registers what happened, before he the last shred of restraint he had snaps, and starts pounding into you relentlessly, ignoring your sobs as he stimulates your already oversensitive insides.

“When you told me… that they had engaged you to that bastard-” He hisses lowly in your ear, as you continue to sob. “-I almost burnt your damn village to the ground. How dare they try to take what’s mine?”

A dark look enters his blue irises. “I wanted to fuck you right here in this temple afterwards – send a message to your parents and anyone else who thought they could have you, that you were spoken for.”

“Touya- I’m-“ you barely manage to choke out in between sobs. Your body feels like it’s on fire from his words. You feel the tell-tale signs of another orgasm quickly approaching, and you didn’t think it was possible for you to feel so good with the way he’s now mercilessly drilling into your insides. You had talked with your married friends about sex before, that was a given, but even they didn’t describe it as feeling this good.

“Tell me who you belong to.” He pulls away, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me who you belong to, and I’ll give you everything.”

“You!” You manage to scream out, voice cracking as he hits a particularly sensitive spot in you. “It’s you! I’ve always belonged to you—you alone! I’ve only ever loved—Oh GODS!” you wail as you cum around his length again. The glint in Touya’s eyes become frantic and his hips stutter as you spasm violently around him. He finally let’s go of your wrists, in favour of grabbing your hips with both hands to pull you down onto him and meet his powerful thrusts.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He breathes. “Fuck love; I’m going to fill you full of me. Let the whole world – the gods – all of them, know you belong to me-“

You keen at his words, and he manages to grind out a breathy, “Shit-“ as he spills himself inside you, swooping down to capture your lips with his rough ones again, as he fucks his cum into you. You’re so blissed out, all you can do is wrap your arms tightly around his leathery neck, until his hips still; still buried deep inside of you.

Eventually you break the kiss, but Touya makes no move to get off of you. He moves his hands up from your hips, so he can take some of his weight off you, and rests his head on your collarbone, as he struggles to calm his palpating heart. You wriggle your hips and Touya grimaces, mouthing over one of the marks he sucked onto your neck.

“Wait.” He mumbles. “Give it a minute. It’s sensitive.” His comment pulls a laugh from you, and you feel him grin against your skin.

You stay joined like that until you feel his dick soften inside you, and Touya gently pulls out of you. You whimper at empty feeling, and close your legs as you feel a rush of fluid that you already know is a combination of both of your releases, leak out from in-between your legs. Touya smiles at your reaction, the staples in his face pulling slightly as he strokes the leg closest to him gently.

He rolls onto his back on the pillows beside you, and pulls you onto your side, so your head is on his chest. You listen to the rapid beating of his heart, and watch as his chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. It almost lulls you to sleep, but Touya suddenly speaks up after a moment, catching your attention.

“I am the only one allowed to see you like this.” He rumbles low in his throat, running a warm hand down your side, feeling the muscles jump underneath his touch. “No man, no one. You belong to me. I’ll take such good care of you.”

“But you’re going to leave me again.” You whisper, hating how you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “You said so yourself: you have unfished business in the East still. Who knows when you’re coming back…Besides… No one can see you aside from me. How can I possibly explain this to anyone?”

“It’ll be different this time, I swear it.” Touya shushes you, smoothing a hand over your hair. “I’m going to be in the East for a while yet, but when I come back, I’m going to stay here with you, for a long time. No more disappearing acts for a while.”

You lift your head off his chest to stare at him in shock, to gage if he’s saying it to make you feel better, but you see nothing but honesty in his eyes. He touches your cheek. “I promise little one. I’ll make it work. I will stay with you. For as long as I can.”

You don’t mean to, but you can’t stop the tears that well up in your eyes and spill past your cheeks at his promise, as you place your head down on his scared chest and cry. You don’t know how long you stay like that, but Touya makes no effort to get up – simply holding you close and murmuring sweet nothings into your hair as you weep.

It’s getting harder and harder to say goodbye to him every time he leaves. You feel like your heart is breaking inside of your ribcage, whenever he has to go. This time is no different, but it will certainly leave you feeling hollower than the other times that came before.

Eventually, once your tears have dried, you separate to get dressed and fix yourselves up. You’re straightening out your skirts as Touya tosses his dark traveling cloak back over his torso, obscuring his muscular chest from view. He must see you blushing, because he tosses you a grin over his shoulder at you, moving to grab your shoes and shawl for you from the front of the temple.

He kisses you as you wrap your shawl around yourself, and rests his forehead against yours. “Thank you.” He tells you, gesturing around the temple. “For doing this. It means more to me than you know.” You nod in response, and he intertwines your hands together as he leads you to the temple entrance and you exit together. 

He kisses you deeply once more outside the temple. He has a pained expression on his face when he pulls away, and he looks like he wants to tell you something important, but something is holding him back. He’s quiet for a moment before he squeezes your hand.

“I need you to promise me something while I’m gone.” He tells you seriously, and you nod, signaling for him to continue. He sucks in a sharp intake of breath.

“Promise me that you’ll take care of your health while I’m away. If someone comes to the apothecary with a strange sickness, or any signs of odd infections outside of a normal fever – I want you to go home and stay there.”

You furrow your brows, not understanding what he’s saying, but one look at his face tells you that he’s deadly serious and it’s not open for discussion.

You agree that you’ll be careful, and you’ll keep your eyes open for anything strange, and that seems to put him at ease. He kisses you once more before letting go of your hand, and slowly backs away from you. Once he’s a good distance away from you, he smiles sadly at you, before a raging torrent of blue flames engulf him once more, and he’s gone.

Life in the village goes on as normal for the next two months. The brightly coloured leaves that once decorated the trees surrounding your village have started to fall off the branches with large gusts of wind as winter draws closer.

You throw yourself into work at the apothecary, grateful for how busy it keeps you. You haven’t heard anything from Touya for a while now, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going on in the East that has him so tied up. You haven’t heard any news from the Eastern part of the county in a long time, so if something big is going on, your town will probably be one of the last places to know. You don’t see much sense in worrying about it though, so you divide your time between visiting Dabi’s temple, and Chiyo’s teachings.

You’ve almost forgotten about Touya’s cryptic warning – until the stranger shows up in town one day. (Or rather, stumbled in – since he didn’t even make it three feet from the town’s entrance before collapsing in the streets, leading to several concerned townspeople finding him and bringing him to the apothecary for treatment)

He’s malnourished and sicker than you’ve ever seen anyone in your life. You and Chiyo spend days caring for him, with no results.

He dies one week after arriving in town, and is buried just outside of the village borders. An unfortunate tragedy, but you can’t save everyone. A harsh lesson that your mentor has drilled into you. You never even figured out what was afflicting him, though Chiyo think’s it may have been an advanced case of pneumonia.

At first, it was just him.  

Then, another man got sick with symptoms eerily similar to what the stranger had.

Then it was two.

Then three.

Then twelve people in one day.

The number of infected only skyrocket from there.

Before you know it: there is an entire epidemic in your small town. Chiyo eventually figures out what it is, but by that point, eight people are dead and the number of people sick is quickly spiraling out of control.

Plague. The black plague of decay. Death.

Your parents beg you to come home, as they don’t want you around such a deadly sickness, and truthfully, you don’t want to be anywhere near it either – but you can’t leave Chiyo by herself. She’s the town’s only healer and she’s old. You know if something happens to her, the whole town is screwed, so you grit your teeth, mask up, and stay by her side.

For a while, things are going about as well as they can be. People are still dying at an alarming rate, but you and Chiyo somehow manage to stay healthy, and you keep trying to treat those who aren’t as sick the best you can with what you’ve got.

Then one day, you feel light-headed and nauseous out of the blue and you look down, only to notice an alarmingly dark black spot on your arm that you know wasn’t there the day before.

Everything goes downhill from there.

-----

Winter has arrived in your village full force, but you can’t see it. You haven’t seen anything outside of the four walls that make up your room for a while now.

You had caught the plague. The second you had shown Chiyo the black mark on your arm, she had immediately sent you away with some herbs crushed into a tablet for you to take to slow down the spread of the sickness.

Slow down being the key words. There was no cure for the decay plague. Once you had it, it was a death sentence. It was only a matter of time before it took your life.

Your parents had grabbed you and locked you in your room the moment they had seen you stumbling back from the apothecary. You hadn’t seen them face-to-face since. You only saw brief glimpses of them when they opened your door to slide food into your room on a tray, or when they came back to collect your dishes, though these days, you didn’t have much of an appetite.

They didn’t even have to let you back into the house once they saw the mark on your arm. But they still did without any hesitation. Despite knowing how ill you were going to become, they still insisted on taking care of you. You may not have agreed with their choices when it came to your personal life, but it was comforting to know that at the end of the day, your parents still loved you. Even if you went against everything they wanted for you.

A violent fit of coughing racks your frail body, and you automatically lift your arms to cover your mouth. When you pull your arm away, you cringe at the sight of red splattered across your forearm, before dropping it back down beside you on your bed with a muffled thud.

You can’t even look at your arms right now. Your skin, which used to be sun-kissed and clear, is now pale and speckled with ominous looking splotches of black, as the sickness makes its way through your body. You don’t even want to know what the rest of you looks like. You haven’t looked at yourself in a mirror since you were confined to your room. You’re not sure you’ll be able to handle what you see.

The room starts to spin around you and everything hurts. You close your eyes in a weak attempt to stop the jarring movement, but it does little to help you. Opening your eyes doesn’t make things better – your vison has become burry lately, and you can’t focus on anything anymore. Normally this would upset you, but you don’t have any strength left in you to care.

You know that you don’t have much time left. You don’t want to say it out loud, but you know your time is drawing closer. Based on the few times you’ve heard your mother – and on occasion, your normally stoic father – sob outside your door as they collect your untouched dishes, they know it too. You’ve held out longer than most people have, but you know that soon you’ll be making your way to the Underworld, it’s inevitable.

You only pray that all the visits you’ve made to Dabi’s temple over the last few months have paid off, and the Cremation God will be kind to you once he comes to collect you.

Dabi. His temple. Touya.

You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the thought of your white-haired lover, as a single tear falls from your eye, and crashes onto your pillow, humble and silent. 

You’re never going to see him again. You don’t want to acknowledge it, but it’s true. As far as you know, he’s still in the East while you’re here, dying in your room. As tempted as you’ve been to use his name to call him to you one last time, you won’t.

Powers or not, you don’t want him to potentially end up with the plague too. Not to mention, you don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want him to remember you sick and frail as you are now. You’d rather have him remember you fondly: full of life and happy. There’s no need to put him through that kind of anguish.

Still, it doesn’t stop you from wishing you could see him one last time-

Suddenly, your room feels unnaturally warm. It’s been very cold lately, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re dying that it makes your room feel colder than it should, but now your room is borderline sweltering.

You swear that you see a faint blue glow out of your blurry peripherals, followed by the tell-tale smell of something burning, before the glow dissipates into nothing. The intense heat remains and even though you can’t see very well, you know that someone is in the corner of your room.

“Who is it?” you manage to rasp out and you hear the stranger’s breath falter, as if they weren’t expecting you to be awake. The stranger takes three slow, purposeful strides until they are at your bedside, hovering over you. You blink hard, trying to see who the intruder is, but your vision must be getting worse, because all you can make out is a tall, white being above you.

You have no idea who, or what you’re looking at and are about to panic, until the figure bends slightly, and two familiar, warm, rough hands cradle your cheeks like you’re the most delicate thing in the world.

Choked sobs rack your body despite how much the movement hurts you, because you know who’s by your side, even if you can’t make out his finer features. Your suspicions are confirmed the second you hear his low, gravelly voice.

“Beloved… what has happened to you?”

“Touya… is that you?” you whisper, and you feel his fingers tense under you. His thumbs swipe at your cheeks, even though you can’t seem to make any more tears to shed.

“I’m here beloved. I’m here now.” he rumbles quietly. He falls silent for a moment, then you hear him ask “ Why didn’t you call me to you?”

He sounds… sad… heartbroken even.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this…” you trail off, not knowing what else to say. Touya doesn’t seem to know either, but from the way he sighs, you think he’s holding back tears as well.

“Did I not tell you to be careful?” There is no anger behind his words. Just defeat. You don’t think it’s directed at you though.

“I know.” You tell him, wishing desperately that you could lift your arms up enough to touch his face like he is doing yours. “It just happened so suddenly. There was a strange man who got sick, and then the next thing we knew, almost the whole town was plague-ridden. I couldn’t leave Chiyo by herself.”

“I know.” Touya sighs. “Are you… are you comfortable?”

“I can’t see very well anymore… I think I’m dying very soon.” You admit softly. You manage to reach up to cover one of his hands with your cold one. “You shouldn’t be here… as much as I love seeing you one last time, you might catch the plague as well – I don’t want that for you.”

“The plague doesn’t affect me. Don’t worry yourself about it.” Touya murmurs gently, and you swear you faintly see something red and thick, roll down his face. He leans down to press a light kiss to your forehead, and you’re not sure why, but suddenly your vision clears, and you’re able to see the best you have in weeks. You look up at him in wonder, only for your breath to catch in your throat.

Instead of his normal dark clothes that you’re used to seeing him in; Touya is dressed in a flowing, white burial shroud that exposes his chest. It makes him look eirthral, like a ghost that had come back from the grave. What really concerns you though, is the right side of his face – the side closest to you. The burnt flesh on his lower jaw by his mouth is gone, and you swear that you see the bone underneath starting to appear.

“Touya—Touya what happened to you? What have you done to yourself?”

“Don’t worry about me. It looks worse than it is.” Touya grumbles, dismissing your concerns. “The person that you should be worrying about, is you.”

“I think it’s a little late for that, love.” You tell him softly. “I’ve been sick for a while now… I’ve held out longer than a lot of other people have, but I think my luck is running out fast.”

This time you know you’re not seeing things. You watch in shock as a large droplet of blood oozes out from underneath the burnt skin under his eye and slowly rolls down his face, leaving a shiny red trail behind it as it makes its way down his ruined skin. You try to bring a hand up to wipe it away, but Touya beats you to it, releasing your cheeks long enough to turn away from you and compose himself.

“That crusty bastard. He promised me that he would keep it away from here… guess it got past him too-“ you hear Touya mutter under his breath. “It doesn’t matter now, gods… fuck.” He turns to face you again, and you see a red streak running along the side of his face, where he tried to wipe the blood tear away. His hands return to yours, and he wraps them up tightly.

“I tried… I tried so fucking hard to keep it contained. I thought, if I could contain it to the East, then it wouldn’t spread and it wouldn’t come here, to you. Even though I’ve seen it happen, so many times over the years. I thought I could change it.”

“Touya what are you talking about, you’re not making any sense.” You beg him, but he doesn’t seem to hear you, too wrapped up in his own head, as he squeezes your hands in his own.

 “It’s not fair. You’re so full of life. I don’t want you to die like this.”

Something in his gaze shifts and the sadness from earlier is gone. Instead, a determined look has appeared in its place. He cradles the back of your head and neck with one of his hands as he gently lifts your head up to him, flinching at your pained whimpers.

“Do you trust me?” he asks you urgently.

“Of course.” You whisper, your vison is starting to darken again, but you try and keep your focus on Touya’s bright blue eyes.

“I can stop this.” He murmurs. “I can stop this and save you and what’s left of your town. But you need to make a deal with me. Do you accept?”

“A deal…? Stop this… I don’t…” you whisper, and Touya squeezes your hand, desperate to keep your attention on him.

“The full extent of my abilities come with a price. I can save you, but at a cost.”

“What’s the price?” you find yourself asking. You’re not sure how he intends to save anyone from something as severe as the plague with no cure; much less yourself, considering that you’re almost certainly on death’s doorstep, but you’re curious. Even if you’re beyond saving, maybe your town still has a chance.

“You.”

“Me.” You echo, still fighting to keep your gaze on him. “Why?”

“I told you already, you’re mine, you’ve always been mine. But this will bind us to each other indefinitely. Your life will become mine in exchange for me removing the sickness from you and your village. Do we have a deal?”

“Am I really worth that much?” you tease hoarsely, as you feel your eyes start to close against your will.

“You mean more to me than anything in this pathetic life.” You hear Touya grind out. “Let me do this for you. Please.”

He squeezes your hand, and his next words sound almost desperate. “I’ve never begged anyone for anything in my lifetime and I’ve lived a long time. Please let me do this for you.”

You know that under different circumstances, you wouldn’t agree to anything like this. Touya’s words are carrying an underlying weight to them, and you know there’s something that he’s not telling you. Normally, before agreeing to anything, you’d make sure everything was out in the open and that there weren’t any catches to your deal… but really, how much time did you have to ask about the finer details?

You were out of time. You knew it, and he knew it too.

Really, how bad would it be being his? Wasn’t that what you always wanted anyways?

“I accept.” You whisper, as your world fades to black, not even sure if Touya heard you or not.

He did.

The next few moments are a whirlwind. You feel Touya stand up above you and his hands go to your left forearm – to the spot where you first noticed the sickness. It’s arguably the worst spot on your body. The darkness has spread underneath your skin and takes up almost your full forearm now.

You feel his warm hands press into the skin of your forearm, and for a moment, nothing happens. Then his hands start to heat up, hotter and hotter, and you can smell something burning. You don’t know whether it’s your flesh or his, but you don’t have the energy to scream out, even though the pain is excruciating.

There’s a bright blue flash and you feel something being seared into your arm – in the same spot where your original plague mark was. Heat spreads through your body like a wildfire, and you feel like you’re being burned from the inside out. Suddenly, as quickly as the pain started it’s gone.

You’re shaking, gasping for air as you try to control your rapidly palpating heart, but you can’t open your eyes. Exhaustion hits you full force, and you feel what little strength you had left in you bleed out. Touya is still there, and you feel him slowly ease you back down onto your pillow, placing your arm down at your side once more.

“Rest now beloved. I’ll see you soon.”

No sooner than he says those words, you feel yourself slip off into slumber, and you allow the darkness to take you.

You wake to the sun streaming across your face

It’s the first time you’ve seen any hint of the sun in months, and at first, you think that you’ve died, but the tell-tale signs of stiffness in your muscles tell you that you’re still very much alive, if not very dehydrated.

The thought draws you up short.

You’re alive. You’re alive when you probably shouldn’t be. That means… Touya… he’d done it.

A burning feeling races through your left forearm and draws you up short. You slowly bring your arm up to look at what’s causing the pain, only for your eyes to widen impossibly.

The dark stain under your skin caused by the plague is gone, as are all of the other signs of sickness that had marked your body. What is on your arm, is nothing short of confusing.

A strange symbol is on your arm, in the spot you remember Touya gripping the hardest. A long, straight line runs horizontally done your forearm with three smaller lines running through it. Another long, straight line along the top of the first line completes the marking, and you stare at it in shock.

It covers the spot where you had your original plague mark, almost as if you’d never had it at all.

You reach out and gingerly touch the mark, only for your door to open suddenly – causing you to yank your nightgown sleeve down in a hurry. You glance over to see both of your parents standing in your doorway. It seems to take them a moment to process that you’re awake, and seemingly plague free, before they rushed to your bedside and have pull you into a tight hug.

“You’re awake! Thank gods you’re awake! We thought that we lost you for sure!” your mother sobs, as she clutches you to herself. You’re shocked, and you ask her what she means, only for her to hold you tighter.

“You’ve been asleep for three days. You wouldn’t wake up! Nothing we did worked.” Your mother cries, and you feel your heart drop.

Three days? What did that mean for everyone else?

“We’ve heard from Chiyo that all of the patients at the apothecary have also recovered. She’s not sure how, but the plague seems to have disappeared.” Your father states gruffly, as he strokes your hair. “It’s some sort of miracle.”

Yes, and his name is Touya. You think to yourself. Just what was he, to be able to have the power to dispel a sickness as deadly as the decay plague from an entire town?

“We do have a visitor downstairs, if you feel up to meeting with him.” Your mother informs you as she passes you a cup of water. “Some of the priests are visiting homes on Chiyo’s orders, to check in on families and see if anyone is still sick. The head priest from the Endeavor temple is here. I’m sure he’d love to check in on you now that you’re awake.”

You don’t particularly want anyone to see you right now, knowing that you must look awful and you would much rather go find Touya, provided that he was still in town somewhere – but you nod anyways. Your mother tells you to take your time getting ready, as she and your father leave your room, saying that she would tell the priest to wait downstairs.

The process to get ready is painfully slow. Your muscles are weak from a lack of use, but you’re able to wash yourself if you move carefully. You slip on a clean dress, making sure that the mark on your forearm is fully covered, and run a brush through your wet locks before deciding that was enough, and gingerly make your way downstairs.

You slowly make your way into the living room where you see the priest from Endeavor’s temple sitting in one of the armchairs, waiting for you. He’s a large man, dressed in Endeavor’s traditional colours: dark blues and fiery oranges and reds. Your parents leave when you enter to give you some privacy and the priest points to the chair across from him.

“Have a seat girl.” He tells you, and you sit without a word. You fidget uncomfortably as he looks you over carefully, before finally speaking. “Chiyo specifically asked me to come check on you and see how you’re doing. She wanted to thank you for all your help at the beginning of this mess. She wanted to come herself, but she has a few things to take care of at the apothecary. She sends her regards.”

“Oh, it was my honor. I couldn’t leave her there all alone.” You tell him, lifting your arm to wave off his praise without thinking about it. You realize your mistake too late, as the sleeve covering your forearm slowly rolls down to your elbow, revealing the mark etched into your skin.

The priest stops dead the second he glances at your forearm, ad his eyes widen impossibly. He points shakily to the mark etched into your arm. “Where did you get that from girl? Who did that to your arm?”

You hesitate. How can you possibly explain Touya to him? No one aside from you could see him. They’d call you mad if you tried to be honest, and would cast you out from your home. What would you do then?

‘I… I don’t know if you’d believe me if I told you.” You mutter, clutching your arm close to you. “Why, what’s so special about this mark?”

“That is Dabi’s seal.” The priest hisses as he snaps his fingers at you, and you feel your heart drop into your stomach. “I haven’t seen a mark like that for decades now, but he is closely connected to my lord Endeavor and I’d recognize it anywhere. It has been rumored that he puts that mark onto people who enter into deals with him. I’m wondering how you ended up with it on your arm.”

Your world crumbles around you at his words, and the illusion that you had unknowingly walked into, shattered.

Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya-

Touya is Dabi.

How could you not have seen it sooner? Looking back on it, the signs were obvious: how he knew so much about Dabi – or rather, himself. How he could seamlessly travel across large areas with very little effort. How he had powers that far surpassed any mage or race you’d heard of. How he never seemed to age… How his body had lasted so long despite the burns that were very clearly getting worse as time passed by-

The thought draws you up short. A hazy memory of Touya standing over your deathbed. A chunk of his flesh missing from the side of his mouth… looking more worn down than you could ever remember seeing him… Suddenly, you have to find him.

And you think you know exactly where he is.

“I-I have to go.” You mutter, shakily rising to your feet. The priest tries to get you to sit back down, but you shove him off. You barely have time to throw a light shawl around your shoulders and put your shoes on, before you’re running out the door in the direction of Dabi’s temple, ignoring the surprised shouts of your parents.

You are reminded how weak your body currently is, as you have to stop and catch your breath several times on the way to the temple, ignoring the looks that a few curious townspeople are giving you, as you eventually make your way to the temple.

This time, you don’t need to reach for the doors, since they seem to open on their own for you. You step through the entrance and they close behind you softly, shutting you away from the sunshine outside. You notice the temple is seemingly empty, but the prayer candles are lit at the base of Dabi’s statue, and the flames are blue.

He’s here, somewhere, you know it, you feel it, but for some reason, he hasn’t shown himself to you yet. It makes you worry and prompts you to call out his name softly.

“I’m here, beloved.”

The familiar rasp of his voice echoes from behind the larger-than-life sculpture. You smile in spite of yourself, and move closer to the sound of his voice, where you can just make out a shadowy figure partly concealed behind the base of the stature.

“Don’t come any closer.” The harsh growl makes you pause.

“Why?” you ask the shadow and you see two familiar blue eyes staring back at you from the gloom.

“You’re not going to like what you see.”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before you shake your head. “I don’t care. You know I don’t care about what you look like.” You swallow before adding on. “I think you and I need to talk about some things… about you.”

“So, you figured it out?” the figure rumbles, and you nod.

“There are some things I need to know. Things that I need to understand. But please, I just want to see you. Come out.” You extend your hand towards the shadow, and hear him sigh deeply, before shuffling closer to you.

A burnt hand takes hold of yours, dwarfing it, and the man—no, the deity, pulls himself into the light provided by the candles. He watches as your face changes from confusion, to shock realization, then to—

He doesn’t think he can do it; he can’t watch as you reject him. He knows that he doesn’t look pretty. He looks like a walking corpse and he knows this. He looks more dead than alive and honestly, he is. He knew he shouldn’t hang around the temple, knowing that you’d eventually come looking for him once you had recovered enough, but he’d wanted to see you one last time before he made the inevitable trip back home to the underworld – even if it meant you seeing him like this—

“Oh, Touya. Did… did you do this to yourself to cure me?” you whisper so softly; he wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly. He risks glancing back at you, only to see that your face hasn’t twisted in disgust upon his reveal. You’re holding his hand so tightly, like you’re afraid that he’ll crumble to ash if you don’t, and maybe he would, he’s not sure anymore.

Your eyes meet his, and he sees unshed tears in them. There is no repulsion or fear in your eyes like he thought there might be, there is only concern and worry for him, and he feels his once dead heart thunder in his burnt chest.

He wishes he could feel the texture of your soft hands on him again, but the burns are deep and have spread everywhere now. All he can feel is pressure on his hand where you’re holding it in your own. Suddenly, he feels more vulnerable than he has in a long time.

You stare back at him, trying your best not to shed the tears you feel forming – knowing that they won’t help anything. What remained of Touya’s once beautiful, pale skin is gone. His entire body is covered in deep russet scaring. The mess of staples that he hadn’t bothered to remove or replace, were scattered across his body where they had once held the damaged and healthy skin together. Parts of his body – where you assume the skin had been thinnest on him – are burned almost completely down to the bone. The skin by one side of his mouth is almost gone, and the flesh near his wrist on his other hand – the one that he didn’t give you – has been burnt down to where you can see the tendons flexing when he moves.

He's still wearing the white robes from before. He looks like a wraith, a sight that would terrify even the bravest of people, but it stirs no such feelings in you.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, not knowing what else to say. He shakes his head.

“I can’t feel anything anymore.”

“Oh.” You croak, not sure if his answer made you feel any better. It doesn’t, but you try not to let it show on your face.

The deity gently removes his hand from yours and moves several paces back from you, as if he’s trying not to upset you. You feel a lump rise in your throat, but push it down. “Did you do that to yourself to cure me from the plague?” you ask him again and he only nods once.

“You and what’s left of your town. I told you; I make good on my promises. It’s the blowback that gets me. Shigaraki won’t like what I’ve done, but he can’t do anything about it.”

You frown at the mention of the other name. You swear that you’ve heard it before somewhere, but you can’t place where from. Maybe if you remember, you’ll ask him about it later, but right now, you have other things you need him to clarify.

“Can I ask you something, my lord?” Dabi snorts at your formalities, and waves you off.

“Please. None of that from you, Princess.  If I wanted you to call me by my titles, I would’ve made you do it when we first met.”

You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips. You’d been slightly worried that knowing his identity would change the dynamic of your relationship with him. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be the case.  

“How come I could see you when no one else could?” you question him. Dabi pauses for a moment, seemingly trying to figure out how to explain himself.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He responds after a moment. “We walk amongst mortals all the time; we’re just hidden in plain sight. Some humans are different than others, and are able to see us for what we really are, but most mortals can’t see through our disguises. I choose to be invisible, it’s much easier to do my job that way. Normally, the only time humans can see me is when I come to collect their soul, or when I let them see me purposefully. But you,” he fixes you with his intense stare that you’ve grown used to.

“you were an abnormity. I’ve only ever met one or two other mortals in my time alive that were able to see me, even when I was invisible to everyone else.”

“What did you do to them?” you don’t know what prompts you to ask. Dabi looks away from you.

“I killed them.”

“Why though?” You’re not sure if you want to know his reasoning, but this may be the only time you get to ask him.

“Because no one is supposed to see me – it’s taboo. The only time I’m supposed to be visible to mortals is when I come to take you to the Underworld with me. I can’t let people wander around telling others that Death himself is coming. Do you know how much chaos that would cause on the surface?” Dabi snickers to himself.

“But I could see you, and you didn’t kill me.” You press. Dabi lets a small smile pull at what remains of the muscles in his cheeks.

“No, I didn’t.” he agrees quietly.

“Were you going to?” you ask, remembering how tense he was the first time you met face to face.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?” You’re not mad about the revelation. You’re just curious. What made you so different from the others that came before you?

“I was going to… But something told me not to.” Dabi trails off, seemingly not having the words to describe why he did what he did. “I couldn’t tell you why I hesitated back then… but I’m glad I did.” The hint of a smile ghosts across his face. “You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t predict everything else that came afterwards. But I’m certainly not complaining.”

Your face flushes a brilliant shade of crimson when you realize he’s talking about when you fucked in this temple… his temple.

You can’t bear to bring yourself to meet the smug look in his eyes, so you try to compose yourself best you can, but it’s hard when you feel his oceanic eyes boring into your being.

“I… I just have one final question to ask you.” You stammer out, trying to fight down the colour in your cheeks that you know he can see. The burnt deity nods, signaling for you to continue. You suck in a breath, suddenly nervous for some reason.

“What… what exactly does this mark that you’ve given me mean? To you, that is.” You ask, touching the mark on your arm with your other hand, and you swear that you hear Touya- no, Dabi, bite back a moan.

“It marks you as mine. To humans and other gods alike, it means you are mine and under my protection.” He growls, a possessive edge in his raspy voice.

“Is that all?” you probe softly. Dabi bites back a laugh, and fixes you with a warm expression, blue eyes glowing like a cat in the dimly lit temple.

“What do you think?”

He answers your question with another question, but it’s weighted. The mark definitely has another meaning to it, you’re sure of it, but you want to hear it from him.

“I think it means something more… but I want to be sure. I don’t remember the finer details of our conversation, since I was… well… dying.” You shrug, trying and failing to look nonchalant. You don’t particularly want to be reminded of that time.

Dabi must see it in your expression, because he immediately drops the teasing act and takes a hesitant step towards you, slowly, as if he’s trying not to scare you.

He points at your arm and you lift it up so he can see the symbol burned into your skin. “That is my personal mark. It means that you’re not only under my protection… but it also marks you as my consort.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, and you can tell that he’s not joking. He’s deadly serious.

“Your consort? You mean, like… like a bride?” you breathe, hardly daring to believe it. Dabi cracks a smile.

“So that’s what you humans are calling it these days. Yes, you are. Unlike some of my kin, I don’t take multiple wives. It’s just you.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, you have to fight yourself to stay upright.

“Oh gods. I’m the bride of a god.” You mutter, swaying slightly in place. “You’re a god. You’re an actual god.”

The burned deity only chuckles. “I can’t believe that you never figured it out. It’s not like I was trying to hide it from you at the end there.”

“I mean… It’s obvious you weren’t human, but I didn’t think you were a God.” You mutter. “You just… you acted so… casual. Not like what I’d expect a God to act-- not that I’m complaining of course!” you add on as you hear Dabi let out an amused snort.

You point up at the statue of Dabi- or rather, him. “Besides, it’s not like I knew what you looked like. You’re always depicted with a hood over your face.” You frowned. “Why is that exactly? You’re not wearing a hood. You’ve never worn one when you’re with me. The only time I ever saw you with one was when you were traveling. Not as you are now. You never let any of your disciples see you?”

“They depict me like that because it’s easier that way.” Dabi explains smoothly. “My face changes depending on what part of my… cycle I’m in. Sometimes I look like how I did when we first met – other times I look like… well, this.” He gestures to himself after a brief pause. It makes your heart ache.

“My kind are supposed to be divine beings. Perfect. I am not. I don’t need to be depicted looking like a walking corpse to the few people who still worship me and visit my temples.”

His gaze flicks back up to you. “You were never supposed to see me like this.”

You know that you shouldn’t psychoanalyze him, but you can’t help but find him endlessly fascinating. He may be a god – a divine, primordial being – but his emotions were so very human.

He may go by many different names, but Dabi was Touya. Your Touya, the man you fell in love with over the years you spent getting to know him. The man who would willingly burn down your village to keep you by his side, only to save it in its time of need, for you.

What he looked like was irrelevant.

“What you look like doesn’t bother me.” You tell him softly, taking a hesitant step closer to him. “It never has. You know that.” Touya’s muscles flinch, like he’s fighting against moving away from you, but he stays rooted to the spot as you slowly advance, until you’re close enough to place a hand on the exposed part of his chest – right above his heart.

“I will love you no matter what form you take, because no matter what: you’re still Touya. You’re still the man I love. God or not, you always will be.”

You lean forward and press your lips to what is left of the flesh around his mouth, and you feel him release a shuddering breath, as his arms come up to wrap themselves tightly around you. You pull away slightly to tuck your head against his chest, returning his embrace, ignoring the burnt smell that always clings to him; and you feel him rest his chin on your head.

You don’t know how long you stay like that for, but eventually Touya reluctantly removes his chin from his spot on your head, and lowers it so he can speak directly into your ear.

“I have to go.”

You try and pull away so you can look him in the eyes, but his arms keep you tightly pressed up against him, like he’s afraid that if he lets you go, you’ll turn to smoke and disappear.

“But… you said that we’re bound to each other now? You promised me that you wouldn’t leave again-“

“I know, but this will be the last time I leave without you, I promise.” He rasps in your ear. “This cycle is at the end. I’m dying.”

You feel your heart clench painfully at his words, and suddenly, you’re taken back to the spring, where he took you to his temple for the first time, and where he unknowingly to you, explained his history. Where he also revealed that gods themselves could die, however difficult it was.

“You’re… you’re dying? How, why? I thought you said it was almost impossible for you to die?”

You feel Touya shake his head and squeeze you again. “It’s different in my case. I die a lot. But the difference is: I come back. It just takes a while.”

“I don’t understand, please Touya, what do you mean?” you feel frantic, and cling to his robes like small child. “I-I can’t lose you!”

“You won’t.” Touya promises you firmly, pulling back to fix you with an unwavering look. “It’s difficult to explain, but I’m more like a force of nature then a ‘traditional’ god. My power is great, but it destroys my body and I ‘die’. However,” his eyes narrow dangerously as he thumbs over the mark on your arm, “I’m a god of the Underworld, and we play by different rules than those that reside upstairs.” He points a finger mockingly up to the roof of the temple.

“I have what you humans call a ‘cycle’. Whenever I ‘die’ I return home, so that I can rest and regenerate my body. Eventually I come back to how I was before I got all of my scaring, and start again. The cycle repeats itself over and over again on an endless loop.” He sends you a crooked grin.

“That’s the other half of my secret: Cremation and Reincarnation tend to go hand in hand. But nobody needs to know that except for you.”

“How many times have you done this?” you breathe, but Touya only shakes his head, shooting you a forced smile.

“More times than I can count. I’m not the oldest God in the pantheon Sweetheart, not by a long shot, but compared to you, I’m ancient.”

“Oh.” You murmur. trying to fight down the blush at the stark differences in your ages, and Touya’s smile becomes more relaxed. You fist your hands at the front of his robe and try your best to return his smile. “So, you’re going to come back… for me?”

“Yes. I’ll eventually return to my original form. But it’s going to take me a while to regenerate.”

“Oh gods, you mean I’m going to be an old woman by the time you come back to get me.” You joke, trying your best to lighten the somber mood, and Touya barks out a laugh.

“No, no. It won’t take that long, I promise… but, that being said, it won’t be anytime soon either. I’m sorry.”

You nod, and try to relax your grip on his robes. You smooth your hands over the soft fabric, and inwardly you hum in delight, as you feel Touya’s abnormally warm hands run down your waist. He brings one hand up to your chin and gently tilts your face up to meet his.

“I will be back for you. Make no mistake about that.”

You feel his other hand glide up to your left forearm, the one that now bares his mark, and press on it possessively. “This binds us together. I’ll make good on my promise, and when I come back for you: I’m going to take you around the world with me, just like I promised you I would. I’ll give you everything.”

You feel your eyes water with his declaration. The sincerity in his eyes tells you that he’s not bluffing. He will be back for you the next time he comes to your humble village, and he will show you the world if you so choose it.

“…How will I know?” You finally manage to ask him quietly.

“How will you know what?”

“How will I know that you’re coming back to get me?”

Touya lets a deep laugh rumble out of his throat, and pushes his face close to your ear so he can whisper directly into it:

“Oh, don’t worry… you’ll just know.”

-----

Three years have passed since that day.

Spring has come again, symbolizing rebirth and renewal, and yet seemingly nothing has changed in your little village. You still work at the apothecary with Chiyo, but now you spend most of your time at Dabi’s temple, keeping it clean, and trying to educate those who visit it, more about the reclusive Cremation God.

More people have started to visit the temple in the three years since you last saw Touya, and you’d like to think that he’d be pleased if he could see it. You’re headed to the temple now to do your daily cleaning, and make sure that everything is orderly, before you head back home for the night.

You smile as you watch a group of small children run past you, as you think back to the day that Touya had left you one final time.

Word had spread like wildfire after you had returned from the temple that day – about how you had made a deal with the elusive Cremation God himself to cure the town of its plague, and how you now bore his mark on your own skin, binding you to him.

You thought that you’d be ostracized, a pariah in your town – but surprisingly, the majority of people seemed to accept it with very little backlash. You suppose that’s the closest to thanks that you’ll get for playing a part in saving your town from destruction, but you’ll take it.

More people do tend to keep their distance from you now, largely in part due to your lover’s fearsome reputation, but you don’t hold it against them.

They’ve started calling you Shaoha – Death Woman. Normally, it’s a derogatory name for a demon or witch, but you know they don’t mean it in that way, and you can’t help but find it fitting given the circumstances and your ties to the Death God himself.

You smile sadly in spite of yourself as you make your way through the forest trail towards Dabi’s temple, leaving the village behind you.

You dress mostly in black or deep blues these days, mourning the fact that you haven’t seen your god in years now. He promised you that he would eventually be back for you once he had healed, before you were old and gray, but you wished that he would have given you a rough estimation of how long that would take, because with each day that passes, you miss him more and more.

Your friends have started families of their own, and while you never had the urge to have children of your own, seeing them happy with their husbands makes you wish that Touya was here with you. Your friends give you sympathetic smiles, and try and comfort you best they can. While you’re grateful that they try, it’s not the same.

It’s strange: you’re surrounded by people who care for you, and yet; you feel more alone now then you ever did before.

You reach Dabi’s temple and push the doors open, finding a few people milling about, paying their respects inside, and the sight pleases you greatly. Ever since it was revealed that he had been behind the disappearance of the plague, the townspeople had started coming to the temple more frequently to pay homage to him. You’re glad that you had cleaned up the temple beforehand, even if it was just for you and him initially.

Several of the people take notice of you, and they quickly file out to allow you to do your daily inspection. After deeming everything to be orderly, you make your way back to your home, just as the sun is starting to disappear behind the tree-line.

You reach your house just as dusk has fallen, and you talk with your parents over dinner for a while before heading to bed. As grateful as you are for their company and their efforts to keep you occupied, the constant ache in your chest never fully dissipates, even when you aren’t alone. 

As you lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take you, you send out a silent goodnight to Touya, hoping that he can hear you, wherever he may be. Just as you have done every night for the last three years.

You hope that wherever he is, he knows how much you miss him.

You don’t remember falling asleep. You open your eyes again and your room is pitch black, letting you know that it’s the dead of night. For a moment, you lay there confused, wondering why you’ve woken up at a seemingly random time, only to realize that you feel different.

You don’t feel physically sick, and the sensation that is coursing through your body like liquid fire in your veins doesn’t feel ominous or wrong, but you suddenly have the intense urge to get up and leave. Like you have to go somewhere urgently.

Your forearm – the one that bears Touya’s mark – feels hot. You trace it absentmindedly, quietly musing that the last time it burned like that was when he gave it to you--

Something clicks in your sleep addled mind, and you slowly sit up and push the covers off of you as you stand. You get dressed in long, dark skirts, and throw a traveling cloak around your shoulders for good measure – knowing deep down that you won’t be coming back.

As you walk through the hallways of your dark home like a ghost, you crack open the door to your parents room to gaze fondly at their sleeping figures. You send them a silent I love you, before closing their door, thanking them for everything. You pad silently through your house until you reach the front door, and pull it open soundlessly, stepping out of it for the final time, before shutting it firmly behind you.

You don’t look back.

You feel like a wraith as you walk through the deserted streets of your town, taking in each and every shop as you pass. The bright, pale moonlight is your only source of light as you walk, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of Dabi’s temple.

The burning in your forearm has lessened considerably and you know this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. You step inside, and slowly make your way to the foot of the hooded god’s statue. You smile slightly and take a seat facing the entrance doors that you didn’t bother closing, allowing moonlight to spill into the dark temple. You sit and you wait. You vow that you’ll wait all night if you have to.

You don’t have to wait for long.

There’s a tell-tale flash of blue outside the temple and a blast of searing heat follows, before everything stills again. The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps approaching the temple makes your heartbeat quicken, and the tall silhouette of a man spills across the floor to where you’re sitting at the altar.

A familiar man dressed in white funeral shrouds enters the temple, and makes his way towards you. You can’t help but smile lovingly as you take him in. Even though he looks incredibly different from the last time you saw him, you’d recognize Touya anywhere.

Gone are the dark scars and staples that wreaked havoc on his skin. The man, the god, that stands before you, has skin as pale as snow, almost blending into the white of his shroud. He looks like he’s bathed in moonlight, with eyes as bright and blue and beautiful as the flames he wields. Upon closer inspection. you still see faint seams in his skin where his burns were previously. A remanent of his past life, and one that you find incredibly endearing.

He is not perfect, but neither are you. You selfishly think that maybe you were made for each other.

He stands before you, seemingly at a loss for words, but his deep turquoise eyes tell you everything you need to know. You, however, have quite a few things you want to say to him. So, you start with the obvious.

“I’ve missed you.” You tell him quietly, and he smiles, cerulean eyes looking sad.

“I know. But I’m here now, so that’s got to count for something right?”

“It means everything.” You confirm breathlessly as he cups your cheek, running his thumb across your soft skin. You shamelessly lean into his touch and watch as he smiles at you.

“Ready to go?”

You nod. “I’ve been ready for a long time. You kept me waiting long enough.”

He laughs, the sound deep and rich in your ears.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. There are so many things I want to show you.” His free hand sneaks down and intertwines with yours. “I make good on my promises, you know.”

You give his hand a squeeze. “I do.”

His heart – the organ in his chest, that he was sure had stopped working after his fall from grace – thunders into irregularity in his chest. Now he’s sure that it beats for you, and you alone.

You, the first person in a long, long time, who’s made him feel something aside from hatred and scorn. The first person to see past the scars, the first one to see him at his worst and still show him unconditional love where others couldn’t, or wouldn’t.

He loves you, and he always will.

He lifts the hand that’s still laced with his, to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of your knuckles, sending you a smile that makes you melt.

“Let’s go home.”

FIN

#dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader smut #tw: death #mha dabi #mha #bnha #rose reblogs #please let me know if i missed any tags! #please let me know if i missed any trigger warnings!