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snowstark · 3 years

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counting to 100. 🍒

For @tonystarkbingo | Fill: Peter Parker/Spider-Man For @peterparkerbingo | Fill: Villain Redemption The one where the Superior Iron Man finds himself having a soft spot for Little!Peter who regresses after a stressful day as Spider-Man. READ ON AO3

The first time Peter saw him, it was when he was out on patrol.

He remembered hiding behind the line of hedges on the penthouse rooftop, stilling his breath like he was terrified that he could hear him. He remembered letting out a little gasp when the— the thing—armour?—wrapped around his body, enveloping him like a snake slithering up his torso, and remembered the way his blue gaze had snapped to his hiding spot. He’d known he’d given himself away that night.

But the Superior hadn’t done anything; his gaze lingered on Peter for a few moments before he disappeared, leaving behind a trail of dust as he shot off.

The second time Peter saw him, it was when he was sitting on the curbside of the empty playground, humming under his breath as he traced the alphabet into the sand. He’d had a rough day, and he could feel the familiar haze of warmth and safety and softness approaching him when he was interrupted by a set of sharp, clean black shoes at the corner of his vision. He jumped to his feet and stared with wide eyes. It was 4 in the morning; no one ever came to this area by now.

But this was the Superior, and he played by his own rules.

Peter’s chest tightened with fear and he stammered, “I— ‘m not—”

“You’re young,” the Superior noted, and Peter fell silent, wringing his mask in his hands.

Then, he looked down and gasped. His mask! He was— he wasn’t supposed to let anyone see— he tried to yank it back onto his face but a silver tendril shot out and wrapped around his wrist, making him choke on another gasp. “Please,” Peter whimpered.

“So fearful, little one. What scares you this way?”

And that— that was just a ridiculous question. The Superior was scaring Peter, and there was no way he didn’t know that. Peter knew who the Superior was, knew what he could do, but he was little right now, and fear only made him feel smaller by the second.

“I don’t—” A pitiful noise escaped Peter’s throat again, and the tendril retreated to hover over the letters scrawled into the sand. Peter followed the movement with his gaze. He’d stopped at ‘P.’

Then, the Superior wrote, slowly: ‘Q.’

Peter’s lips parted in surprise.

“What comes next, little one?”

Peter’s gaze jumped back to his face, and the armour melted away like a melting snowman. The Superior raised his eyebrows, and Peter bit his lip, then said softly, “R.”

The Superior’s lips quirked into a small smile. “That’s correct. Smart thing, aren’t you?”

Peter felt his cheeks tinting with warmth, and he ducked his head. The warm, fuzzy feeling was approaching his vision again, strong this time, even though deep down, somewhere in his brain, he knew he should be making an excuse, should be trying to put some distance between them, and get home safely.

But thoughts were hard. It was like trying to swim in mud. Fuzzy mud. And Peter wasn’t a caterpillar.

So, he looked down at the sand, bent down, and wrote ‘R.’ Then, he looked up at the Superior, who nodded, and he wrote ‘S,’ then ‘T’ and ‘U.’ He continued until he reached ‘Z,’ where he ended it off by drawing a little heart.

“‘m done,” he said softly, looking up at the Superior.

The man had his hands tucked into his pockets, and he gave Peter an impressed look, drawling, “Look how smart you are. Now can you count to 100?”

Peter blinked, and said uncertainly, “‘s— ‘s a big number.”

The Superior’s lips tugged into a smile, eyes crinkling the slightest bit. “It is, isn’t it?” Then, he turned his head, like he was concentrating on something far away, and Peter got on his tip-toes to try to see too. Except he didn’t see anything but the dark, black sky.

Then, the Superior said, “Practice your numbers, little one,” before the armour covered him in a shimmering case of silver. He was gone within moments, leaving Peter standing there with nothing but the English alphabet etched into the sand.

--- --- ---

For some inexplicable reason, Peter found himself back at the playground again the next day. Someone had erased the alphabet, but he wasn’t upset. He could start again.

The weather was getting colder now. He’d have to bring a jacket or something to wear over his suit when he was done patrolling. He always got a little more chilly when he was slipping into that safe space too, like he was being poked by icicles.

He was sitting on the swings when the Superior arrived, as if they’d planned a rendezvous.

He looked up, surprised. The first day had been a coincidence, this was not.

The Superior was silent as the armour melted away, and Peter fidgeted nervously before squeaking out, “Hi.”

The Superior lifted a poised eyebrow. “You’re out late again.”

“Um, I patrol.” Peter lifted his mask up, blinking uncertainly up at him. “‘s my break time right now. And ‘m hungry.”

“Patrol, huh?” A coil of metal reached out to flick Peter under the chin, making him jump. “Brave boy, keeping this place safe.”

“Sometimes,” Peter said softly. “Because sometimes I see bad things on TV at school ‘n I have to go fix it.”

“Oh, do you? Is that why you can’t count to 100? Been skipping class too much, little dove?”

Peter’s lips formed a small pout before he could help himself. “I can count,” he protested, affronted. “‘s just a little bit hard, sometimes.”

“Well, that’s okay. You can always ask for help, can’t you?” The Superior approached him, watched his feet skitter nervously on the sand of the playground.

Peter nodded timidly, then asked, “What’s a dove?”

The Superior’s lips twitched. “You’re a dove.”

Peter looked down at himself, confused, then back up at him. “‘m not! ‘m just— ‘m just Peter.”

The Superior didn’t say anything, just watched him fidget some more on the swing before he murmured, “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

The Superior gave a slight nod.

“I like surprises,” Peter admitted softly.

“Well, then, you’re a lucky boy.” The Superior extended a silver tendril behind the bushes to draw something out.

Peter slid off the swing, eyes wide. Then, when the object was close enough for him to make out what it was, he gasped. “For me?”

The Superior nodded again, pressing the white teddy bear into his chest.

Peter grabbed it immediately, pressing his fingers into the fur. It was softer than anything else he’d ever touched; it didn’t feel like a cheap dollar-store purchase, but more like the type you would see on display at fancy clothing stores, sitting on the counter. He pressed his face to it, rubbing his cheek against it as he let out happy noises.

“What do you say?”

Peter’s gaze jerked up to meet the Superior’s expectant gaze. “Thank you,” he said breathlessly. “I love her.”

The Superior looked smug. “I knew you would.” Then, he turned around again, just like he’d done last night, staring at what only he could see, and Peter clutched the bear closer to him.

“Um— Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?” The Superior didn’t turn his head.

“Can I— she’s mine?”

“She is.” With that, the silver armour began to ghost over his body again, and Peter almost watched with an air of desperation as his face disappeared from view.

“Mr. Superior?” he blurted out in a rush before he could leave.

The Superior waited.

“Um— thank you. Can I have 100 bears?” The words left without Peter realizing it and he gasped, mortified that he’d even asked such a thing. He sounded spoiled.

But the Superior just chuckled. “Maybe if you learn how to count, sure.”

“And um— will you— will you be here tomorrow, maybe?” Peter bit his cheeks, flushing.

The Superior tilted his head. “Do you want me to be?”

Peter ducked his head, shuffling his feet.

When he didn’t respond, the Superior told him, “I’ll be here,” before he turned and left the playground.

Peter watched him disappear, then looked down at the bear in his hands for a long time before heading home.

--- --- ---

The Superior met him every night after that, and that was just incomprehensible to Peter. He knew the man had better things to do. Maybe he was just interested in him because he knew he was Spider-Man.

But even that didn’t make sense, because the Superior never brought it up, nor did he try to hurt him. In fact, Peter found that the urge to go on patrol and be New York’s brave superhero was lessening in favour of being small with the Superior.

The Superior was nice to him. Nicer than anything he could’ve ever imagined. He always brought Peter nice gifts, like a snack, or a warm hoodie for him to wear, and even some hot chocolate.

He always said nice things to Peter too, like you’re a smart boy and such sweet manners, little one, I’m impressed.

But then, one night, for the first time, the Superior was upset with him.

Peter was terrified, and had nearly started sobbing as he collapsed into the swing, the meat of his palms pressed to his eyes.

“What did you say to me?” the Superior demanded, and Peter had never heard his voice like that before.

“I don’t— ‘m sorry—” he whimpered, breath quickening when he felt a tendril of metal wrap around his wrists, pulling them down from his face. “Just— just don’t wanna keep takin’ gifts, M-Mr. Superior, don’t want anymore—”

“Oh, no, no,” the Superior interrupted, his ice-cold gaze burning into Peter, and that didn’t make sense either, because ice was supposed to be cold, not hot. “That’s not your choice to make. It’s always the same thing with you little ants. Never happy, never grateful, only little brats.”

“‘m sorry!” Peter cried again, sniffling.

The Superior was quiet for a few moments, and all Peter could hear was the sound of the man’s harsh breathing in the space between them before it gradually deepened into its regular soothing rhythm. Then— “You’re a sweet boy.”

The words made Peter’s eyes fly open in confusion, and he asked tearfully, “I am?”

The Superior nodded. His gaze was more gentle now. Not soft like it usually was, but gentle. “And that’s why I keep bringing you gifts, little one. It’s rude to deny them when I’m being generous. I’m not always a generous man.”

“Just to me,” Peter sniffled.

“That’s right,” the Superior crooned. “Smart boy, always learning so fast. C’mere, little one, let your Superior teach you how to repent properly.”

Peter stumbled forward, scrunching his face as he mumbled, “I dunno what that word means, Mr. Superior.”

“It means you show me how sorry you are.” The Superior cupped his chin with a hand, tipping his face up. “Because you were rude, weren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Peter hiccuped. “‘m sorry.”

The Superior’s thumb stroked over his cheek. Then, he said, “No more tears, little one. I can tell how sorry you are. Had a bit of a scare, didn’t you, poor thing?”

And that was confusing too, because the Superior was comforting him like he’d just woken up from a nightmare when he was the nightmare. But Peter just pressed into the touch and mumbled again, “‘m sorry.”

“I know, little one. But you’re going to be so much more well-behaved now, I know it. You’re a good boy.”

Peter nodded timidly.

For the rest of the night, the Superior watched Peter struggle to complete the hopscotch he’d drawn for him in the sand before leaving.

--- --- ---

Peter was considerably meeker the next day, and he knew that the Superior knew. But he couldn’t help it; he just wanted to be good.

Eventually, the Superior said, “Want to do something fun, little one?”

“Fun?” Peter blinked, then asked softly, “What kinda fun?”

“Mmm.” The Superior tilted his head, eyes glinting. They almost looked like the moon in the sky, glimmering with light. Like a night-light, almost. “Do you want to fly, little one?”

“Fly?” Peter gasped, eyes wide. “I— I can kind of fly.” He held his wrists out in demonstration of his web shooters.

The Superior chuckled, reaching out—with his hand, for once—to gently grip his wrist and tug it back down. “Oh, sweet thing, that’s not true flight. I can show you how to really fly. I promise it’ll be fun. A reward for being so good today.” He crouched down now, eye-level with Peter sitting on the ground. “Do you trust me?”

Peter stared at him, breath shallow in his chest. He wrapped a hand around the Superior’s finger, looked down at it, then back up at his face. “Yes,” he whispered.

The Superior reached out and picked him up, and Peter let him. “Good boy. Hang on tight.”

“Yes, Mr. Superior.” Peter did exactly as he was told, clinging to the Superior’s arms as they stood with his back to the Superior’s front. He could feel the familiar shift as the armour wreathed over the Superior’s body, but it didn’t cover him.

“Are you ready, little one?” The words were spoken in a low voice, quiet enough that Peter had to strain to listen to him.

“Uh-huh.” Peter tightened his grip, heart beginning to pound. He knew he’d be fine. The Superior hadn’t hurt him yet, and he wouldn’t now. And if he fell, well, he had his webs. He might be a little more clumsy with how small he was feeling, but he could do it.

Or maybe the Superior would be the one to catch him.

“Good.” With that, the Superior lifted off the ground, making Peter inhale sharply.

They went up, up, and up, until Peter was convinced that they could touch the sky. Then they were going forward, picking up speed, and Peter gradually found himself relaxing as fear left him, replaced by pure delight at the sight of the twinkling buildings illuminated against the night sky.

The wind was cold against his face as the Superior let them swoop down. Peter let out a thrilled yelp and let his arms fly out, the Superior’s grip on him the only thing keeping him held and safe.

There was a chuckle from above. “Little dove, flying through the air, hm? Daddy taught you how to fly?”

Peter grinned and twisted in his grip, and the Superior held tight. “‘m flying!” he shouted, feet kicking before he could help himself.

Another laugh, and the Superior didn’t say anything else.

Peter kept his arms extended as they shot through the sky, and the Superior even did a loop-de-loop when he begged him enough. Then, Peter pointed at a little apartment building that they zoomed by and squealed, “‘s where I live!”

“Is it?” the Superior murmured, sounding interested. “Do you want me to drop you off at home, little one? Is it bedtime for you yet?”

Peter shook his head adamantly, pouting. “Nooo, I wanna stay with you.” He glanced up, craning his neck, and found the Superior looking down at him.

“Always saying the right things, little dove.”

Peter smiled. He was being good, and now he got to fly with the Superior, and he’d ask if they could do the same thing tomorrow night, too. He was sure he’d get a yes in return.

He turned his attention back to the buildings they shot past, then gasped. “What’s that?” he pointed at the large tower standing tall and proud amongst all the other buildings.

“That’s my tower.”

“Yours?” Peter gasped, eyes wide. “You live there? ‘s so big!”

The Superior nodded, speed picking up the slightest bit. “Do you want to see it?”

Peter didn’t hesitate. “Yes! Please!”

The Superior chuckled. “Well, only because you asked so nicely. I do have a weak spot for pretty words.” With that, he held onto Peter tighter before shooting off towards the tower.

Peter squealed, covering his face with his hands. “Can’t breathe!” he proclaimed dramatically, hearing the wind whip past his ears.

The Superior laughed above him. “Don’t be ridiculous, little one. You’re perfectly fine.”

Peter gave a little wriggle, but he didn’t voice any more protests as they neared the tower.

It was even more grand up close, with big fat letters that said “STARK” and windows that reflected the moonlight that shone down on them. Peter squirmed to get down, and when their feet landed on the platform, their shadows painted streaks across the floor.

“Wow,” Peter breathed, craning his neck to stare up at the sky. They were so close to the moon, he could feel it. He wondered what the moon would feel like in his hand. Cold and heavy, maybe. “Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?”

“Can you get the moon for me?” Peter turned big, pleading eyes to the Superior.

The Superior chuckled. “Perhaps one day, little one.” He outstretched a hand, and Peter took it, obediently scampering by his heel like an excited puppy as they walked towards the open door.

The Superior led him inside, then let go of his hand. Peter immediately ran to the large windows and pressed his nose against it. “‘s so pretty.”

“Do you like the view?”

Peter nodded without turning to look at him.

Then, there was a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly to get his attention. Peter looked up and met a pair of pale blue eyes. “You see that, little one?” Peter followed the Superior’s finger to stare out of the window and at the sparkling city before him. “This is my world. This is my universe. I own it all. And if you’re good, I can give you some of it too.”

“For me?” Peter’s eyes widened. “But— but I dunno how to own it.” He could barely keep track of where he left his stuffies, never mind buildings.

The Superior chuckled. “Well, it’s why you have me. You can always ask for help.” He ran a soothing hand through Peter’s wind-tousled hair. “Are you hungry?”

“Mhm.” Peter blinked up pleadingly. “Pizza.”

The Superior rolled his eyes. “You always want pizza.”

“‘cause it’s good!” Peter pouted.

“Fine. But only one with veggies on it.”

Peter pulled a face, but he knew he’d already lost the fight. Maybe he could pick them off when the pizza came. He followed the Superior towards the kitchen, counting the number of windows they passed by. Then— “Mr. Superior?”

“Hm?” The Superior looked down at him.

“Can you— can you help me? Um, to count to 100?” Peter asked softly.

The Superior appraised him, then smiled. “Oh, little one, you most definitely asked the right person.”

Peter smiled, biting his bottom lip happily, then got up onto his tip-toes to plant a quick, shy kiss to the Superior’s cheek. “Thank you.”

He knew he could always ask the Superior for help.

part 2?? maybe?? tagging: @vaguekiwi @carelessannie @starkentrprises @thegreenmetblue @professional-benaddict

#starker #ironspider #sim!tony #peterparkerbingo2021 #tsbmv #little!peter #daddy!tony #my fics #please i did not mean to turn this into a 3k fic #idk if i’ll do a part 2 but maybe :0

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wingsfreedom · 2 years

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Azula's extreme behavior

First off, this needs to be said: When it comes to Zuko, Azula is NOT motivated by jealousy nor dependent self-worth the way Zuko is towards her.

The fact she did not blame Zuko for supposedly "stealing" her mother's affection, but rather takes responsibility for her actions and even going as far as to accept judgment against herself as a person is enough proof that she's NOT a pitiful bully.

When Iroh sent the fire siblings gifts, Azula insulted Iroh only after blatant display of favoritism in his choices instead of taking it on Zuko other than "you're not that good in playing with knives". Even if you would argue that "Iroh never played favoritism" (which entirely not the case, imo) that doesn't change the fact it was one in Azula's eyes:

But even if she's hurt, Azula's rational (not emotional) enough not to direct her anger to the wrong person -- identifying the problem is part of her judgment and problem-sloving skills. She's a smart kid after all.

Azula is not someone who wants Zuko's downfall because of jealousy. In fact, she's happy to work with him as a team (even as equal) and doesn't place high expectations on him like Ozai and Iroh do.

"In Ba Sing Se, she found her brother Zuko, and together they faced the Avatar [...] Now the heroes have returned home! Your princess, Azula ... And after three long years, your prince has returned ...Zuko!"

Furthermore, when Azula apologized to Ty Lee, it wasn't only because she hurt her friend, but because she let her emotions (jealousy) control her too -- and that was wrong because that lead to error and weakness, something she should be above.

So if Azula's problematic behavior is not motivated by jealousy like Zuko is, then what is it and where it truly comes from?

Azula's more extreme behavior theoretically is motivated by ideology a.k.a might is right, which is essentially the Fire Nation and her father's ideology: the weak will fall before the strong, therefore all those who are weak will fall before Azula.

Azula was special and strong child; a young queen (chess piece; metaphorically) who fell under the wrong hands to teach her what her power is for.

But it's amazing, nevertheless, how she still looking for ways to be equal with others even if she has trouble time balancing it.

P.S and on a finale note: this is exactly why having Azula abused and severely punished under Zuko's power because he's the victor will not lead to a good outcome: Azula will only believe her biggest mistake was trying to be Zuko's friend; discarding her father's ideology.

This development was a result of not that Azula is incapable of changing but how she was not allowed to be anything other than a villain, even when she wanted to change, she's only forced back into being a villain.

#azula #atla meta #azula meta #atla #drafted post finally saw the light of the day

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 3 years

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Touch it for Real, Part 10

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Angst / (Eventual) Smut 18+

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / idiots to lovers / unresolved sexual tension

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

A/N: I had to split this chapter due to length. Part 10.5 will follow tomorrow.

The song inspiration for this chapter is Eric Nam’s The Night

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10 , FINAL Part 10.5

You hadn’t touched the app since you’d done it.

You hadn’t slept much either.

The guilt was eating you alive from the inside and you were pretty sure the ache you felt in your stomach was an ulcer from the stress of living with the horrible mistakes you had made.

Your room was the wrong temperature.

Your bed was uncomfortable.

The light that shone through your window from the moonlight was too bright. You couldn't hide away from it no matter how hard you tried.

No matter how tightly you closed your eyelids you could still see everything too clearly. Even hiding your head under your pillow didn't block it all.

The clock on the wall of your bedroom ticked rhythmically and the sound was counting down to your destruction.

You fought the useless battle against the bright moonlight for hours until you realized the reason why you could so clearly see the messy clothes on the floor in front of your closet and the overflowing wastebasket sitting beside your desk wasn’t because of a super moon occupying the sky outside, but that brightness was actually the sun shining through your window now; alerting you to the fact that you had once again spent an entire night wallowing in your own self pity or self hatred or self loathing or whatever self bullshit was on the docket this time.

It was Sunday morning.

You were sitting on a time bomb as you spread butter on your toast and kept your ears tuned in for the sounds of life inside his bedroom.

You hadn’t really expected him to, but Baekhyun hadn’t appeared since last night when he disappeared inside his bedroom to sleep. You hadn’t heard him playing games all night or even heard his shower running or playing loud music well into the sunrise.

Was he really sleeping?

All night?

Like a normal person?

Or maybe like someone who wasn’t too weighed down by the pressure of their own substantial sins might sleep.

You knew that Baekhyun liked to sleep in late on days when he had nothing pressing to attend to. You’d both gotten in late last night and he probably wouldn't make an appearance until late morning. Maybe not even until lunchtime.

Your toast was bland and floppy by the time you took a bite and you scowled down at the disappointing thing. Surely and somehow you could blame yourself for this breakfast failure. It wasn’t the toaster. That thing was perfect. It was you. You’d waited too long to eat it. You’d been wallowing for too long and now it was a waste.

It was all a waste.

You’d drive yourself crazy at this rate. You needed a distraction to get through it.

You would do laundry and clean your bathroom and tidy your room and maybe then you could think.

Think about what you had done to Mia, what you had done to Baekhyun; think about how low that was and how undoable it was. It wasn't like you could un-delete the messages.

You worked on your Sunday chores and you were thinking hard. The doubt was heavy and made the load of laundry you carried out of your bedroom feel this basket was full of bricks and you were walking on a sandy beach.

How would Baekhyun react? Would he know that you had been the one to delete the messages or would he blame it on a glitch in the system? What would he think of you when Mia told him that he’d agreed to meet her himself last night. Last night when he was asleep.

What would happen to Mia?

Would she sit alone at the cafe for an hour waiting for him or would she text him right away?

Would she quietly absorb her disappointment at being stood up or would she blame him for it. Had you just made him the bad guy? Your sweet Peanut — a villain?

You didn't want to hurt her. You had liked her. Your jealousy had just taken over last night. You’d never been stood up before but you imagined it felt awful. Baekhyun knew what it felt like. Would it hurt him terribly to believe that he had somehow played a part in causing someone else that kind of pain by making the mistake of associating with you; the mistake of trusting you?

You’d been watching your laundry spin around in a circle for a half an hour now and you looked up on top of the machine to see the carefully measured cup of soap sitting there. You’d been so lost in your thoughts that you forgot to put it in. The disappointment you felt in yourself was fitting it hardly even made a dent in the already deep down in the mud mood you were in.

You’d have to stop the cycle and restart it with soap. You’d wasted all of that water.

If Baekhyun knew about this he would be so disappointed in you. He would complain and nag about the irreparable damage you’d done to the Earth, to his Earth, his planet, his home. The only one he had to live on.

And you deserved to be nagged. You deserved to be scolded and yelled at and you deserved to be made to feel like the absolute scum of the earth because what you had just done to him was unforgivable.

Would he really never forgive you?

Was this what finally did it? Not your laziness or your pranks or your inability to pay rent on time, but this? You’d been given his trust and you’d trampled all over it. You’d taken what he’d given you, his friendship and his access to him, to his privacy that he valued above all else and you’d squandered it for selfish and jealous and disgusting reasons. You’d trampled all over it, all over him. Again and again you showed that you didn’t deserve someone like him. You’d sinned against him and for what?

To stop him from dating a girl who you’d pushed him toward in the first place.

You were an asshole. The worst kind. A jealous, petty, selfish asshole.

You felt it then. You’d paused your load of laundry and you reached for the soap after the water drained from the tub. You held the button down to cancel and reset the cycle and you watched the digital display blink angrily at you, telling you that what you were trying to do was not allowed, it was against the rules. You were supposed to just let the wash cycle happen, you were just supposed to let it happen, you had been the one to push the button, you started it, why were you pausing right now why were you stopping and reversing when this was what you wanted? What kind of asshole stops the cycle right in the middle?

The numbers on the screen blurred. It was a blinking fuzzy red tinted mess. You could feel the sting and then the relief of the tears that crested and fell and you exhaled through a mostly stuffed up nose.

You couldn't do this to him.

The tears on your face were warm and wet and they fell freely as the intense regret washed over you completely.

This wasn’t you. You weren’t this person. You weren’t underhanded and sneaky. You didn't have the stomach for it. You felt like you might be sick just imagining poor Mia sitting there waiting for him, thinking the worst of him, believing that he was that kind of selfish cruel man who would treat a woman this way. That wasn’t fair to Baekhyun and you’d been a real monster to try such a low down dirty trick like this.

You had to fix this.

You were out of any other options other than honesty. You had to tell him exactly what you had done last night in a moment of misguided weakness, in a moment of stupidity and you had to tell him that he still had time to go meet her, to talk about whatever it was she wanted to tell him.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and went into your bathroom to clean your face up. You would not let him be swayed by the selfish tears on your face. You had to control yourself and confess your crimes and you had to be straightforward and strong about it.

You gripped your cell phone and you inhaled a breath through your nose and exhaled it slowly through your mouth. Your exhale hiccuped once from the earlier upset and so you did it again; breathing in deeply, filling your lungs as full as you could and exhaling in one long continuous breath; until it was stable again, until you could feel your racing heartbeat relinquishing the manic control it had over you.

His door was closed and it was quiet behind the door.

You knocked twice, listening carefully over the thumping in your chest for the sound of his voice from inside.

Finally it came; a soft hum from within.

“Baekhyun—” You called through the door, “can I come in?”

His voice hummed again, low and sleepy, and you turned the knob, pushing the door open and then pushing yourself forward slowly.

He was in his bed, half under his covers with a leg sticking out and he rolled away from the wall he was facing as you came into the room, pulling his blanket down to uncover his face, his eyes peered at you as he squinted against the light in the room.

“Hmm?” He hummed again and his eyes closed back up.

You held your phone out toward him and you moved closer to his bed. He squinted one eye open and lifted a hand palm up which he quickly dropped back down onto the bed, clearly still half asleep.

“Did you break your phone?” His voice was thick with sleep and his eyes were still closed as he talked to you.

“No, I didn’t break it. I did something wrong.”

“Give it. I’ll fix it.” He was talking again, reaching again with more conviction now as the spell of sleep that he had been under began to break.

He was sitting up. He was looking at you with his warm brown eyes and he was blinking as he tried to focus on what you were saying to him.

“No. I didn't break it. I did something wrong,” you repeated for emphasis and continued for clarity, “I did something bad to you. Last night when you were asleep—”

Oh this was hard. His brows lifted and you had his attention. Your words, the seriousness of then sharpened his eyes on you as you spoke.

“Last night, Mia messaged you...after the date.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrowed and he was watching you very closely as the words emerged. His eyes were focused on your face and his mind was processing what you were telling him. He was still sleepy but your words were pulling him out of it. His hands gripped the cellphone you’d pushed into his hands.

“I opened the app you made for me. I read a message that Mia sent you. She wanted to meet you for coffee t-today— this afternoon, in less than an hour.”

You could feel your control slipping as you spoke the truth about the awful thing you had done and you had to look down and away from his face as you continued your confession otherwise that thickness you felt in your throat would come through in your voice. Otherwise you might not make it through this without crying. You promised yourself already that you would not do that. You had to get this out and it had to be clear and controlled. You did not deserve his sympathy or even his forgiveness. This violation had been inexcusable.

Your own hands were empty. You’d given him your phone and he was holding it now.

“I pretended to be you, told her you would meet her and then I deleted the messages so you would not see them. So that you would stand her up. It was wrong of me. It was a mistake. I’m sorry. You can delete the app, or change the permissions or do something. I’m sorry. I know you trusted me and I messed it all up — Baekhyun, you can still make it. You can get ready and go meet her for coffee. She had something she wanted to ask you. If you get ready now, you won't miss her. She wont get stood up because — because I fucked up and I acted like an asshole.”

Baekhyun’s sleepy face had changed as you spoke. You inhaled a deep breath and looked into his eyes and you found him watching you with a new hardness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before and his hand gripped tight enough to snap around your cell phone.

You could feel the blood under your skin just at the surface, heating your flesh and flushing your cheeks. You pulled your lips tight to keep the tremble out of them and he was watching your face too closely for you to be able to keep up the eye contact.

“Bug, why would you do that?” He spoke through clenched teeth and all traces of his earlier sleep were gone.

“I’m sorry. It just felt so bad and I knew it was wrong but I did it anyway and I have no excuse.”

You felt the bed move when he shifted and he was pushing himself up into a full seated position with his legs hanging over the side of his bed.

The movement made you push back and away, clearing a path for him to get up. You knew he had to get ready quickly if he wanted to make it in time. What if there was traffic?

“You still have time to make it— if you go now,” you said with a quick glance up into his eyes and you noticed he’d abandoned your phone on his bed as he moved. “She’ll be waiting for you.”

Baekhyun wasn’t standing yet and he was still looking at you with that odd hardness in his eyes and a very slight back and forth head shake as his only significant movement.

Your mind was preoccupied with the ticking clock on the wall and he was still just sitting there on his bed looking at you.

Yes, you had disappointed him. Yes, you had fucked up. But you were trying here. You were trying to make this right and you knew it wasn’t fair to him to throw this surprise coffee date on him at the last second but you’d fucked up and you couldn't think of any other way to fix it other than to get that man to stand up and get dressed so he could go meet her right now.

You reached for his hand and you grabbed lightly around his wrist and you pulled.

“Baekhyun. You need to move. You’re not moving. Please.” Your pleas were growing desperate. How in the world would you fix it if he wouldn't let you fix it?

“Is it because you were upset about Ben?” When he finally moved it was not his body or his legs it was his mouth and you let your hand sag with his wrist still suspended in your grasp.

He moved then, Baekhyun stood up and you let your hand fall away from his arm, pulling your arms up awkwardly to cross them over your chest. You took another step away. The discomfort flowed through your entire body. You’d created this problem. This was all your fault. This atmosphere was unbearable and you could only blame yourself.

You were looking down at your feet and you wished he wasn’t watching your face as closely as he was as his eyes roamed over your pained expression. He was still shaking his head and you could tell that he was trying his hardest to make sense out of your terrible actions.

You were his friend. Surely his friend had to have a good and valid reason for doing this to him, right? Surely it wasn’t just because maybe she was a bad person and did bad things.

With your eyes on your feet though, it was easier to shake your head and deny that Ben had anything at all to do with why you’d attempted to sabotage his new relationship.

“Baekhyun, you can still make it,” your voice was a whisper. You could feel your careful resolve crumbling the longer you stood here under his watchful eyes. You could feel it in your chest. Your breathing pushed hard against your lungs that fought against the oxygen and your heart pounded so noisily inside of you that you began to wonder if that had been the clock you heard all along or your own rhythmic countdown forecasting your demise.

You had to shake your head. You had to squeeze your eyes tight and push with all of your might. You couldn't face this. It was too hard.

“If not Ben—” he was speaking again. Your eyes were closed.

“Then why?” you heard an inhale of breath from him and it was trembling. The sound of his pain, the sound of his suffering called to you and you opened your eyes to look at him. His eyes were closed and he had a hand raised with his fingers held up.

The agitation you heard in his breathing moved him and his body came to life as he shifted on his feet, spinning in a slow circle where he stood, he lifted both of his hands to run through his hair and his eyes were closed up tight enough for his vision to go white.

“You can’t do this to me. You can’t do this to me again. It’s not fair.” He was speaking under his breath and you were drawn to his words as confusion rushed over your thoughtful mind. The part of your mind that made sense of things was left in a cloud.

Again? Had you really hurt him this badly before? Your memory raced through the history you had with him and you looked over his features in worry.

When his eyes opened back up he was looking into your face with that same dark look, the look that made you want to shrink up and hide from it. The look that somehow saw you for exactly what you were and knew just how bad of a person you could be.

“I’m trying to fix it — I don't know what to do, Baekhyun. I don't know what I should do.”

Your feet had carried you toward his door. You could feel the overwhelming urge to escape this. To escape your own mistakes and problems and run from them. To leave this place and to hide from the way he was looking at you right now. He was still just shaking his head and staring at you. He wasn’t moving to get showered or dressed or changed even, he wasn’t grabbing his keys or his phone to leave to go meet her, why didn’t he do something?

He must have noticed your movement. Baekhyun took several large steps toward where you’d wandered near his door and you froze when he moved.

He was upset. You could see it in the way he carried his body through the space and you heard it in the rough way he pulled at the doorknob to his bedroom and swung it open.

You’d half expected him to head toward the front door. Maybe he’d forgotten that he needed to change out of his comfy sweats if he was going to meet a girl for coffee.

He left his door open and you followed his quick steps. You followed the path he took through the living room and you turned when he turned toward your bedroom. You stood back as you watched his hand turn your door knob and he disappeared through your doorway, into your bedroom. You heard your closet. Your heart felt like it was throbbing inside of your chest when you saw him emerge with a familiar bag; your big suitcase, the one that was still stuffed full with your coats from the last time you had been convinced you needed to pack up and leave this place you called home.

You felt like you might be sick.

Did he want you to leave? Was he packing your bag for you? The panic that grew in your belly was powerful and it threw you back against the wall of the hallway that led to your bedroom.

This was it. He’d finally had enough of your shit. This was it.

You’d done it.

You’d lost your best friend.

Baekhyun had disappeared with your bag and you heard a door shut somewhere within his room. You heard the sound of a set of keys. There was a ringing in your ears.

“Tell me why.” His voice was back. He was back. He was standing in front of you and you looked up into his eyes and the breath he inhaled trembled as it went in and filled his lungs with air. He lifted a hand and his fingers shook as he rubbed them over his mouth. “You can’t run away now. I have your bag. Tell me why. Why did you do that?”

He’d gone for your bag first. Just as you had always gone for the bag the minute something snapped in you and you’d convinced yourself that you could simply leave if things got too uncomfortable or too hard to bear. It felt significant. It felt like your reckoning. You couldn't run away this time. He knew you would try that first and Baekhyun wasn’t going to let you; not until he had the truth.

“You always have a good reason. You always make sense — to me. You always make sense to me. Everything you do, I understand why you do it. But...this, it doesn’t make any sense. You’re the one who picked her. You’re the one who started this. You’re the one pushing me to go to her. Why did you do this? Why are you doing this to me? It’s so unfair.”

Baekhyun’s voice was unstable. His hands were trembling and you could feel the deep frustration in his words. He was right. He was completely right.

No false explanation you could come up with would make any sense.

Only the truth made sense.

The humming in your ears and the burning in your eyes and the pounding in your chest had built up too much. It was too hard to control. It was too hard to contain.

The longer you sat in it; the longer you withstood it, the less you wanted of it.

You closed your eyes and you let it out.

It came out as a whisper.

“I told you, I was shameless.”

They hit you like a bomb. Those words that you spoke out loud to him; with your own mouth. Your own voice that betrayed you so completely.

The aftershocks echoed around inside of your head and you blinked fast and hard, trying to control the stinging wetness that pooled inside of your eyes.

Baekhyun had gone completely still.

You could no longer hear the unstable breathing from his lungs.

“What did you just say?” His voice had no strength left. You could not look at him.

Oh no.

You’d done it.

You had to inhale to live. You had to open your eyes and you rolled them around to keep the moisture at bay, looking everywhere except for him. You felt like crying. You felt like losing your flimsy control once and for all and screaming, sobbing, falling to the floor to deal with this incredible anxious feeling that was surging up inside of your body.

It was out. That secret of yours. It ripped you apart when it exited and you felt more unstable than you’d ever felt. You were about to cave in. Control was overrated anyway.

“I told you I act dumb and desperate and jealous, Baekhyun. I told you I make mistakes. I’m shameless.”

You heard the step he took. It was a stumble. Your words had thrown his balance off and he caught the step quickly. The sound of it pulled your focus.

Baekhyun looked at you, a stunned expression on his face and his eyes, his eyes which always held so much comfort and security for you, those eyes that were always so warm, they traveled over your entire face as his lips fell open.

“What does that mean?” His lips hardly moved when he spoke. You watched a hand lift and it landed squarely over his chest and there was a movement in his fingers; an involuntary shake in them. His fingers flexed and he clawed over his chest.

“Does that mean...do you mean...what I think you mean?”

You felt the first tear fall. It slipped out and ran down your face and you lifted a hand to wipe it quickly.

“It means I’m in love with you, Baekhyun. I’m sorry. I was jealous of her. I couldn't watch you and her like that. So I acted like that — I did that to her, to you both. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to stop loving you. I don't even know where to start.”

Your breathing was heavy. Your face was wet and whatever flimsy control you thought you had over yourself had shattered with your honest confession. More than just what you had done to him, this felt so much more damning. This was the truth about what was inside your heart.

This was the scariest thing you had ever told him. It felt so much worse than when you told him you’d lost your job and would start looking for a new place to live.

The silence that surrounded you amplified your labored breathing and you’d given up on catching the tears that slipped down your cheeks. There was no stopping it. You’d been a fool to think that you could hide this.

Baekhyun hadn’t moved. He stood frozen a few feet away from you and when he did move it was to lift a palm to cover over his face for a moment.

“Are you serious?” You heard him say. You swallowed hard and squeezed your eyes closed. “Bug, are you serious? You—”

“You’re in love with me?”

You wrapped your arms around your stomach tightly and with your eyes closed you nodded your head once.

Your ears caught movement.

Baekhyun was moving. Your fear and your shame flashed images into your mind, images of him vanishing; images of him closing himself up in his room; images of him telling you he just couldn't live with you any more.

Baekhyun was moving. You could hear him. Your eyes burned and begged to open and when you gave in you flinched to find him standing right in front of you. He was here. He stood in front of you and his eyes were wide on your face.

In those eyes you saw what you could only describe as a look of concern. Baekhyun was looking at your face and the warmth that arrived with his body heat coated you. Inside of your chest, something was building, something was burning, something was changing inside of you with the look in his eyes you could not pull your own eyes away from him when he was standing so close to you like this.

The wall behind your back was so cold and he was warm.

He was moving. His hands were moving. You felt the warmth of his palms land over your wet cheeks and he was wiping your tears, drying the wetness from your skin with the palms of his hands and with his soft fingertips. He moved so gently over you. He touched you so carefully. The pounding inside of your chest raged out of control. The ragged breathing that had ahold of you earlier seized up and you could feel the dizziness building upon itself, yet you could not make your lungs cooperate; not with him so close to you. Not with him looking at you up close with that look in his eyes and his hands still holding your face.

“LoveBug.” His whispered breath warmed your mouth. The soft name he called you coated the back of your tongue like some sweetened medicine. You swallowed down the moisture that pooled and he was close enough to you that his breathing fanned against your lips, over your tongue when your lips parted.

“Do you know that I belong to you?” It came out as a whisper. This tiny question that lit you on fire. Your lungs burned.

“Do you know that?”

You felt another tear escape and he leaned into you then. You felt too stunned to react. This did not feel real. Perhaps you had actually fallen asleep last night and you were dreaming. The warm brush of his thumb below your eye, wiping the wetness away again and again as the tears fell. The warm puff of his breath over your closed eyelid and the softness of his lips that pressed a kiss onto the softness of your cheek where your tears had just been dried.

“I belong to you. I’m yours. I’ve loved you for so long.”

These words he said pulled your eyes into his.

The discord in your brain echoed. How was this real? Nothing was making sense inside of your head, so you exhaled through it. You let your lungs deflate and the final bursts of air that left your lungs pulled your eyelids down halfway and you couldn’t stand the distance, you had to touch him. His hands were so warm and his eyes were so magnetic and what was he saying to you? He loved you.

He loved you.

Baekhyun loved you. He said so himself. He said he was yours and he’d gone still again, his breathing stopped puffing over your skin when your hands reached for his waist and you gripped around his shirt, bunching the fabric as you pulled. There was a step, to keep his balance and he moved closer to you.

Warmth. Heat. He was everywhere. That smell of him; the scent of the spaces within his bedsheets that smelled like him, his breath, his lungs, his heart inside of his body. With the contact of your hands around his waist you could feel so much of him. When your hands traveled up over the center of this back you felt the wild beating echoing inside of his chest.

It sounded a lot like what was happening inside of your own chest.

The distance evaporated with your hands on him. You felt the softness of his cheek against your own. You heard the quiet grunt from the back of his throat when the tip of his nose brushed over yours and his lips traveled over your entire face. Over the smoothness of your forehead and a path over your eyebrow; up the hill of your cheekbone and down through the softness of your cheek. He was exploring your face with his lips and the spell he put you under was deep. You would have floated away had it not been for the occasional labored puff of air from his parted lips. A mark of his struggle to keep his breathing under control. The man was magic.

His touch was so light and delicate you wondered how he could stand this with as fast as his heart was beating inside of his chest. His hands were moving away from the way he cupped your cheeks and caught stray tears, he moved a single hand to the back of your head, moving lower to cradle the back of your neck and his other hand traced the shape of your jaw with lightly touching fingertips until he reached your lips.

With his eyes half closed and with zero hesitation he moved then. You felt him move. Your eyes were already closed when you felt his lips cover yours.

It began with softness; that same uncertain, wary softness that led his movements. His kiss was gentle and his lips were asking.

The question was quiet.

Your response was not. Your hands pulled hard over his back. His chest was flush with yours already but the constriction of your hold on him sent a clear message.

When your lips parted to his you felt the wetness of his tongue brush against yours and you pulled against him, pulled him into your mouth and the hold of his hand behind your head changed as his grip tightened and his fingers threaded within your hair.

His other hand slipped around your waist and he pulled you tight against his firm warmth. Everything about the kiss was changing. There was an urgency that took over every cell of your body and you were feeling dizzy and when his lips pulled away for a second, you gasped for air from within his parted lips. You could not break the kiss. You could survive inside of his mouth forever. You didn’t even need air that badly.

Baekhyun did not break the contact either. Your desire for closeness was building further and your hands pushed the warm fleece of his sweater up and away from his skin. You felt the first smooth warm bits of the bare skin of his waist and your own skin erupted all over with goosebumps when you felt the tips of his fingers slip under the fabric of your shirt at the small of your back.

It was your own wandering hands that did it. You touched first, the small of his back, then your hand wandered around his waist, as you made your way around to the front of him you heard the low whine that erupted from deep within his body. It was a long frustrated sound and the sound of it pulled your lips into a smile.

Your fingertips were close. You know enough about human anatomy to know that slipping your hand along the waistband at the front of his sweatpants and hooking your index finger just inside the fabric as you moved; well, it was only a matter of time until you were brushing below his navel and you felt Baekhyun jolt back and away from you when you’d done it.

“Fuck,” he cursed with his lips flush against yours and you couldn’t help any of it. He’d put you well under his spell and you wanted every bit of the man. Clearly your hand had come too close and he wasn’t expecting it.

“This is like living out all of my fantasies at once multiplied by a hundred. I don’t think I can take this.”

Baekhyun pulled his face back and away from you then. You used the respite to finally breathe in a deep enough breath to touch that dizziness you’d been feeling. It didn't help much. Was it the desire? You had never felt quite so desperate for another human being to touch you before.

You ached for it. The attention he showed with his wandering fingertips over every bit of skin he could find and the way his eyes and his lips touched you. Nothing about the desire you were feeling felt normal.

Baekhyun dropped a hand from you. It was the hand that had held the back of your neck. He took another step back and placed his hand over his chest. He was looking at you again with a shell shocked expression on his face and lips very pink and swollen from the passion you’d felt in those kisses.

“I feel like my heart is going to explode.” He said and you saw his lips pull into a smile. He was still breathing hard and his gaze changed into something of wonder.

“You like me.” His eyes closed up and the smile pulled wider. You were blinded by it. It was contagious. You could not stop your own smile from mirroring his. “You love me. She fucking loves me.”

“I love you,” you agreed softly. It tasted like relief. It was sweet and satisfying and toothsome. You were wrecked. You probably looked like hell after the sleepless night and all of that crying. He watched you as if you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. You could see it so clearly. Your eyes sharpened to so much the more you looked around, the clearer your focus became and your eyes were drawn to the wall behind his head.

There, a clock had just struck one.

“What do we do about Mia,” you were the one to say it and still hated the sour taste of the guilt that still sat on the back of your tongue when her name came up. You hadn’t quite considered this outcome. You hadn’t ever considered this.

“Oh god, Mia,” he said. “Oh no.” The smile on his face was gone and you could see the regret land over his features. “I — I think I need to go make a phone call.”

He spoke the words and you nodded your head. Of course he did. Of course you understood completely. Of course his body was still very close to you and of course you could feel the desire to pull him back into your arms and into your mouth.

Baekhyun hadn’t stepped back yet. His words said one thing yet his hands were moving again and he reached for you, wrapping both of his arms around your waist this time he pulled tight and you felt the strength in his arm muscles as he did it.

His face dipped and he kissed you again. You could not resist his lips despite the ticking clock. You craved him. You hadn’t been nearly satisfied enough yet and you wondered if you could ever get enough of him.

His soft lips; the pull of suction inside of his mouth; his tongue; his teeth all demanded and took from you and you wove your fingers into his hair and held him tight as you kissed him back.

You both pulled away at the same time and his labored breathing marked the significant struggle he was facing in letting go and walking away. You did not think it was possible to love this man any more than you already did, but this unrestrained side of him was making your stomach do flips.

“Do you want me to go with you? This is my fault after all.”

He rested his forehead against yours and both of his arms were still wrapped tightly around your waist. He’d been standing still with both of his eyes closed since he’d pulled his mouth away from yours.

You felt him shake his head back and forth and he hummed a no sound from the back of his throat.

“I think I can do it alone,” he said before inhaling a deep breath and exhaling it slowly as he pulled his face back, straightened his shoulders and dropped his arms.

He’d spun on his feet and taken two steps before he turned around and undid all of his progress with two more big steps back in your direction and a grimace of failure on his face.

His hands were up and he was reaching for you again, grabbing you roughly by the cheeks, ignoring the giggles that erupted from your chest as he leaned in and kissed you again. He was smiling too and the first seconds of the kiss was just teeth bumping teeth before you complied and relaxed enough to receive the quick succession of peppered kisses he pressed into your mouth.

“How can I walk away? Turn me around and push me. I can’t walk away from you.”

You were in big trouble. You knew he could be really cute if he wanted to be. You’d had trouble with it in the past.

But this time his intense level of adorableness was caused by his struggle to stop kissing you. You were pretty certain you were even more whipped than you’d ever been for anything ever. If faced with the choice of denying this man or throwing a bag full of puppies off a cliff, you were pretty certain you’d toss the damn dogs just to let this Baekhyun have his way.

How to be the strong one here? All you wanted to do was keep kissing him forever.

“Baekhyun, it’s after one already,” you said, doing your best impression of your serious voice.

“Yes ma’am.” His hands left your face and his lips pulled back into an O shape as he exhaled a breath with his eyes trained pointedly on the ceiling instead of on your face.

This time when he spun on his feet he didn’t look back and you fisted your hands tightly at your side to keep from reaching for him and pulling him back into you after he’d finally built up the strength to resist the incredible magnetism you both clearly had for each other.

His absence afforded you a moment of quiet; a moment of peaceful thought. The aftereffects of what had just happened still buzzed around inside of your chest, inside your belly, and lower; the lingering warmth purred, making it impossible to ignore the incredible effect even this much of his affection had on you.

You had to return to your bedroom to collect yourself. You’d never be able to face him again without throwing yourself at him in desperation and based on the way he’d flinched when you grazed your fingertip along the waistband of his sweatpants, something was telling you the man was simply not ready for such a huge step in such a short amount of time.

The last thing you wanted was to make him feel pressured to do anything he wasn't ready for.

You were an adult. You could be reasonable and you could control yourself.

With a cold shower and a cold drink of water you could survive this. Maybe you would slip and fall in the shower and bang your head and wake up to him giving you mouth to mouth with his hands on your chest giving you life saving chest compressions that would turn into a steamy make out session with some second base heavy petting in the middle of your bathroom floor. One thing could lead to another. You would already be naked and he’d have just saved your life. Surely the situation would make anyone emotional enough to pop their cherry with the girl of their fucking dreams. Really, he’d have just saved your life and you would be ever so grateful if he could also fuck you while he was at it.

The cold water didn’t help at all.

The cold shower at least helped with the absolute wreck you saw when you looked in the mirror. Had you really looked this bad? You hadn’t slept for shit. You hadn’t eaten your sad floppy toast or had any coffee on your upset stomach and your eyes were puffy from all the crying. You must have simply forgotten that you had any hair at all. It looked exactly like it must have looked when you crawled out from the depths of your bed. At this point you wouldn't be surprised to find some leaves or sticks tangled within the rat’s nest.

At least you hadn’t been wearing any makeup on your eyes to create dramatic black streaks down your cheeks, but a little lipstick or blush on your cheeks might have helped some. Anything would have helped. While you confessed your love to this beautiful man you looked like something scraped off the front grill of a semi truck after a 12 hour haul.

You took a few extra moments after your shower to fix whatever you could. It was a delicate balance. You didn't want to make it obvious that you’d gone through the trouble to make yourself super sexy and appealing looking, but you also couldn't just go back out there looking homeless and lost.

You settled for something in between. Something natural and clean looking on your face. Something pretty smelling on your freshly scrubbed skin and you made your way toward your closet wearing your favorite matching bra and panties set.

There was a little lace and just enough push to make your boobs look hot, but still in a neutral enough color that gave a cool and casual ‘oh this ol’ thing?’ feeling should the opportunity for him to actually see it somehow manifested.

Your real dilemma came as you stood in front of your closet.

Did you really need to wear pants? Couldn’t you just prance around your living room in your thinnest white t-shirt and pick things up off the floor that you’d clumsily knocked off the table or the bookshelf or the kitchen counter?

You compromised, picking out a short flouncy skirt and flowy top that liked to fall off the shoulder at inconvenient times and you practically ran out of your room hoping you hadn’t left him stewing in his post difficult phone call mood for too long.

On your way out of your room a familiar piece of paper stuck to the wood caught your eye and you took a step back to look up at the sign you’d hung there a few weeks ago. You tried to be casual about it. You tried your best to be quiet as you carefully lifted the tape that clung to the surface of the door and the paper rattled and crinkled noisily as you pulled. You heard the telltale sounds of paper ripping in half when you pulled. You’d forgotten to carefully lift the tape you put on the sides and the whole thing made quite a racket coming down. So much for discretion.

You were crumbling the whole mess into a tight ball inside your hands as you walked toward the living room and you caught movement on the sofa.

Baekhyun was sitting there it’s his eyes on your hallway, clearly looking up when he heard you coming. His hands were linked over his lap and he was leaning forward, resting on his forearms.

The instinct to hide it was strong and you saw the dip of Baekhyun’s eyes down to your hands and he looked at the ball of paper you hid inside your fist.

He’d just caught you. You’d ripped off your ‘No Boners’ sign from your door and Baekhyun had seen you do it. Now he was looking away from you and his eyes were wide as he stared across the room, looking anywhere that wasn’t at you. His face was tense. His lips were pulled tight and after a few seconds of blank staring he lifted his left hand to cover over his mouth a moment after you saw his white teeth flash with a wide smile and he closed his eyes up. A single snort of laughter escaped from him before he reeled it in and held his breath to stop it.

You had to save it. You had to be casual, dammit. You looked fucking cute right now and this man was in love with you and you loved him too and — God, his hair was wet. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans and everything about him looked casual and beautiful, you were staring. You were staring. You had to stop staring. You had to do something to save this.

You stuffed the paper ball into your pocket and took enough steps to reach the counter of the kitchen bar and you stuck an arm out and leaned against it.

You leaned because leaning was ultra casual and you also thought you might drop from the tension you were feeling inside your body right now if you relied only on your own two legs to hold you up.

How could absolutely none of the effects of your cooling shower have lasted the second you saw him again?

“Hi,” you said as you fought an embarrassed smile and the leaning felt so forced you closed your eyes to will your own face to un-flush.

Baekhyun dropped his hand from his face and his cheeks were pink to match his lips. He was smiling wide, clearly amused by your nonsense. You saw his chest shaking as he laughed and he lifted his hand and bit down on his closed fist. The laughter did not last long. He was looking at you though and his wide smile evened out when he dropped his hand. His eyes did not drop from your face. Not right away. You caught the drift when they did though and the heat you felt increased when you noticed the slow way he took you in from the glimpse of your bare shoulder down to the shortness of your skirt and down the length of your bare legs. His eyebrow danced once over his left eye and his tongue peaked out to moisten his lips before he bit down on the bottom one.

“Hi Bug,” he said.

Well, this was new.

...

[To Be Continued]

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10 , FINAL Part 10.5

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#Baekhyun #baekhyun fic #baekhyun fanfic #exo fic #exo fanfic #exo ff #baekhyun smut #baekhyun series #exo smut #exo fluff #exo series #baekhyun fluff

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faulty-writes · 3 years

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[ So I felt like I needed to do another Taishiro piece. So this is partly inspired by the songs Chocolate and Be Kind To Yourself. I hope you enjoy it!]

[ Not quite a hero and yet not quite a villain. You have gone by the proud title of 'Vigilante' for years now and for years Taishiro Toyomitsu otherwise known as 'Fat Gum' has been chasing after you and...protecting you? Huh, that's weird. But it looks like he's going above and beyond this time and he may have broken his word for your sake. Either way, you find yourself listening to what he has to say. ]

Pants filled the air as you continued to run down the now wet streets of Tokyo, pushing down innocent bystanders that stood in your way while the sky above you continued to rumble causing the already present rain to fall harder, hitting the ground in large bursts.

You could still hear the loud stomps behind you as members of the police force continued their chase to try and apprehend you. The bag of stolen goods was still clenched tightly in your hand and you used your free hand to catch yourself when you slipped on the wet pavement.

Luckily you decided to take a small detour through a back alley and climbed up a fire escape before you proceeded to jump onto several rooftops in an attempt to make it to a safer location. Once you heard the noise of the police force fade away, which was oddly fast in your opinion.

You slowly made your way down another fire escape and slumped against the brick wall of another alleyway. The rain continued to pour down and you glanced up, the sky was dark and there was no hint of sunlight. You pressed your hand to your chest, taking a few deep breaths to regain your composure.

“Hm?” That's when you noticed the faint cut across the back of your hand. But, that shouldn’t be too much of a surprise considering you had minor cuts and scrapes across the length of your body. Not to mention the fact that your clothes were currently stuck to the surface of your skin.

“Pff,” you reached up, pushing your bangs out of your face and allowing them to stick to the top of your head. Then you paused, making sure it was still quiet. Though it was a tad hard to hear any outside noise due to the pounding rain.

“Well…” you shrugged and stepped away from the wall, assuming that all was safe. “Let me see what I got…” you wrestled with the bag for a moment before finally managing to open it. But just as you were about to peer inside to see all the goodies you had gathered.

Heavy footsteps sounded from behind you which prompted you to close the bag and turn quickly on your feet. You expected to see more members of the police force and kept the bag hidden behind your back.

But as soon as you laid your eyes on the rather large individual that stood before you, your defensive stance relaxed. “You know I’d like to see what you got in that sack too,” you narrowed your eyes and took a step back. “Fat Gum,” you stated as you continued to back away with your eyes locked on him.

Taishiro Toyomitsu or “Fat Gum” as you knew him as was someone you had run into a couple of times before and while you were well aware he was a hero and he was well aware you were a vigilante with slight villainous tendencies.

He had a bad habit of wanting to protect you and trying to convince you to fight for the side of justice, but that wasn’t at all something you were willing to do...again. Thus the game of cat and mouse continued. Your thoughts broke when he chuckled and began to casually walk towards you.

“That’s the name, glad you still remember,” he spoke in a teasing tone but you weren't amused and tightened your grip on the bag. You refused to back down to anyone, so you straightened your posture while casting a glare at the oversized hero.

But as he got closer you noticed that his clothes seemed dry or rather that the rain slid off of the fabric as opposed to absorbing into it. However, you noticed those small strands of blond hair sticking out from under his hood and cocked your head to the side.

“Looks like you’re a bit wet there, not to mention those injuries of yours,” Taishiro said as he continued to loom over you, that large smile of his fading as he once again began to show the same concern for you he always did. But, you rolled your eyes.

‘Here we go again, the hero complex,’ you thought but didn’t exactly notice the frown that was playing across your lips until Taishiro pointed it out. “I’d rather not see you frown if it’s all the same to you,” he said, his voice deepening and you recognized there was some pitiful tone to it which caused you to growl.

“I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do!” you snapped as you pointed your finger at him, once more your bangs seemed to come back to stick to your forehead and impair your vision. Your knuckles were slowly turning white as your grip on the bag tightened.

You didn’t register the fact you were no longer hiding the item behind your back. “Hm,” Taishiro reached up, scratching the side of his head with one of his abnormally large fingers. “That might be a problem,” he confessed, but his tone was light and you knew this was yet again something that normally happened between you two.

You’d do something, Taishiro would find you and proceed to give you a speech about how good you were in hopes you’d change your ways. The fact that he felt the need to protect you was...well, you felt a mix of emotions when it came to that.

“I’m gonna need you to give me that sack, please” you flinched, looking at him with a bewildered expression which wasn’t so surprising considering you wouldn’t just hand it over. Taishiro frowned and took a step closer before he leaned over and brought his arms up, almost like he was expecting you to hop away.

“Come on, I would never hurtcha knowing you’re already injured,” he said, the fact that his tone was filled with concern only made you angrier. “I am not giving you my bag!” you hissed before taking a step back. Even as Taishiro continued to loom over you, both of you seemed to know what you were about to do.

“Don’t,” he ordered, which was almost amusing considering his voice didn’t hold any sense of authority. You pushed your foot against the slippery ground and made a foolish dash towards the entrance of the alleyway. Of course, you should have expected the way to be blocked.

Actually, you should have expected Taishiro to have made a secure plan that would prevent you from leaving the alleyway until he got what he wanted from you. Just as you were about to reach the entrance, something bright flashed through the rain.

“Look out for the gun!” Taishiro’s voice broke through the sound of the rain and the scent of sulfur filled the air. “Ah!” you stumbled when you felt a blast of heat near your foot where the impact of a bullet made a hole in the concrete. However, instead of falling to the ground.

You felt someone grab onto your wrist and pull you against a squishy surface. “Damn it,” you cursed under your breath, already knowing who had a hold on you which meant escaping was going to be tricky. Especially with the police who were not only sealing off your escape routes but appeared to be trigger happy.

Yup, you were effectively trapped. The very opposite thing you wanted. “Let go!” you demanded as you stepped forward and attempted to pull your wrist out of the hero’s grip, but he kept a firm hold on you. Even with the rain, it seemed you couldn’t easily slip away.

“Sorry about this,” he reached over, and despite you still desperately holding your bag of stolen goods to your chest, he so easily ripped it away from you. “Hey!” you snapped as you tried to reach for it, but considering how tall Taishiro was. It was an almost impossible task, even when you stretched your arm to its limit.

“I got it!” he declared as he held the bag up for the police force members to see. “You boys can relax now,” he said and sure enough you watched as that police line up broke apart and started walking towards you. Another growl escaped and your free hand curled into a fist.

“Give it back!” you demanded, once more stretching your arm out and jumping to try and take it. The display was a little pathetic, you could admit. Jumping up and down to get something you wanted when someone else was holding it just out of your reach. Another cry left you when your foot slipped and your body fell to the ground.

A hiss followed when you felt the skin of your elbow tear against the rough texture of the pavement, despite the rain washing away the blood that came. You still felt the small amount of pain that coursed through your now broken skin. “Hey there, you better be careful!” Taishiro said as he leaned to one side and placed the bag down.

You completely ignored the fact that the police were now standing just a few feet from you, their guns raised as if you were actually attempting to do something. Well, you did try to lunge for the bag that was now on the ground.

Of course, you were stopped by Taishiro who grasped the back of your shirt. “Sorry to do this to you, but I can’t have you continuing to injure yourself or try and take that bag back,” he stated and you cried out when you were suddenly lifted up.

You began to kick your feet, attempting to aim for Taishiro’s face. He didn't seem to take too kindly to this considering he was frowning, but what he did next threw you off-guard. He began to lower you down onto his stomach and you could feel something pulling at the bottom of your shoes.

“Stop it!” you exclaimed as you found yourself in a battle with his quirk which was currently sucking you into his body. You knew exactly what he was doing as you had seen him do it before. He could effectively absorb people or hold them in place with his quirk.

It was a way to disable and prevent them from doing any more harm to themselves or others. You tried moving your arms and legs but it was no good, it was almost like your body was being submerged in a pool of putty. “Fat Gum…” you hissed out, your body or at least what was still seen of it, began to tremble.

“Sorry, I wasn't too rough with you. Was I?” he questioned as he looked down at you, effectively trapped and safe within his fat. You couldn’t help but glare, but at least in a way, the rain wasn’t bothering you. However, your soaking wet bangs were still hanging in your face.

You grumbled as one of the police force members walked over to the bag and curiously peeked inside before looking at you. They wore a tan trench coat with white gloves and a matching hat. You could make out their black hair and dark eyes.

"Is this everything?" they asked and you opened your mouth to speak or curse him out, but Taishiro answered for you. Flashing a smile, he raised his arm with a confident nod. “Should be Tsukauchi,” he replied and you raised your eyebrow.

‘Naomasa Tsukauchi...should have known’ you thought. ‘Guess I didn’t recognize him in that getup,’ Naomasa was the police detective of the police force and someone you had dealt with countless times. Needless to say, you didn’t favor him much.

"Hm," he turned his attention to Taishiro. "Do you need an escort to the police station?" he questioned and you scowled. “Police station!? Again!?” no surprise you had been there countless times, sat in those tiny interrogation rooms for hours.

However, Naomasa didn’t answer you. He didn’t even bother to glance at you, rather he kept his eyes locked on Taishiro. “Nah,” he replied before patting his stomach and you could feel the slight vibrations course through your body as a result of the motion.

“This big ol’ body wouldn’t mind a little more exercise, I can take them in myself,” the rain continued to hit the ground, creating a random but somehow rhythmic sound that eased the current anger you felt. Naomasa looked at Taishiro with some concern before he nodded and turned to one of the officers who took the bag.

"Let’s wrap this up and go!" he said before walking away. However, he paused and looked over his shoulder at Taishiro. "Thank you for continuing to protect Japan," he said as he tipped his hat and resumed walking. Taishiro must have heard the rather animalistic growls coming from you.

But you knew he couldn’t see the way your eyes were narrowed and your teeth clenched together. Wishing that Naomasa would burst into flames at any moment, but you were quickly distracted away from your hateful thoughts when Taishiro turned around and began walking in the opposite direction.

“You alright there?” he questioned, his voice was back to its cheery tone and you knew he was smiling as he walked. You kept quiet, refusing to answer him as he rounded the corner out of the alleyway. Why should you even talk to him when he was only going to take you to the police station?

Or at least that’s where you thought you were going until you began to realize. “This isn’t the way to the police station,” you pointed out, though you had some doubt. You knew the streets of Esuha City well enough and you knew something was off.

You tried to glance up at Taishiro but the task was impossible considering you couldn’t fully turn your head. Taishiro chuckled and for a moment you thought he was laughing at you, but this wasn't the case. “I knew you were smart enough to catch on!” he replied and you growled yet again in annoyance.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, the question coming out with a hiss as you tried once more to wiggle your way ‘out’ of Taishiro. But stopped when a series of lights began to irritate your vision. The pouring rain didn’t help as it caused the light to glare which, in turn, caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Those lights are annoying,” you pointed out and Taishiro came to a stop. Raising his hand up to press against his forehead as he looked at the large building ahead of him. “Yeah?” he questioned before laughing once more. “This is where I live,” he said casually, despite the fact your jaw dropped.

“...what?” for a moment you didn’t think you heard him correctly. That is until he started walking to the door, it was a tad bizarre to see a scanner attached to the outside wall. But Taishiro seemed prepared for it, considering he reached up to remove his glove.

You watched as he pressed one of his fingers against the screen of that scanner which then became illuminated by blue light. A few seconds later, the two sliding glass doors unlocked and Taishiro walked through. Humming softly to himself as he slipped his glove back over his hand.

“Mm,” you grumbled from your position. Your hair was mostly dry now, though your bangs still stuck to your forehead and it was a little irritating you couldn’t simply push them out of the way. You tried to ignore it in favor of taking in your new surroundings. The entrance of the building was rather well-kept.

The tiled flooring looked polished and there was fancy furniture everywhere. You could hear the faint sounds of individuals talking somewhere off in the distance mixed with the continued rainfall. ‘He lives in a place like this?’ granted Taishiro didn’t seem to be one that spent his money on large mansions and such.

He was social, so maybe he would prefer living in a place that had people. "Uh!" you shook your head, jeez. Were you getting soft? You tried to focus on your surroundings once more, and took note that there was an elevator but surely Taishiro wouldn’t use an elevator given his height and weight, right?

Sure enough, you felt the motion of him turning and watched as he entered through another door. It gave somewhat of an eerie squeak as it opened and you found yourself staring down a rather large and empty-looking hallway. How odd.

However, your thoughts were shattered when you felt Taishiro lean back and, in turn, you jolted forward. Hitting the floor with a soft thud, you felt moisture across the length of your arms and your clothes were still sticking to your skin. “What the hell!?” you snapped before frantically standing on your feet.

Your fists clenched and your eyes narrowed in a glare toward Taishiro. He gave a nervous chuckle and reached up to rub the back of his head. “Sorry bout’ that,” he replied before once more grinning, not that doing such a thing made you any less angry at him.

“There’s a big ol’ elevator at the end of this hallway," he said. "Sturdy enough to support you and me,” he claimed as he patted his stomach. “...elevator?” you questioned as you looked over your shoulder. “Mmhm, let’s go,” Taishiro urged as he laid his hand on your shoulder which you didn't take too kindly to.

You attempted to flinch away but his fingers took firmer hold. "Didn’t think I’d let you run off, did you?” a growl rumbled in your throat, but Taishiro didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. Rather, he just smiled and proceeded to pull you along despite your continued attempts to wiggle away.

A familiar ding sounded when the elevator arrived and Taishiro pulled you inside with him. The elevator bounced some underneath his weight and for a moment you were expecting the cord to snap and for both of you to spiral downward.

Luckily that didn’t happen and he released his hold on your shoulder as soon as the elevator doors closed. You grumbled in response and reached up to grasp your shoulder, though Taishiro’s grip didn’t hurt you couldn’t help but pout.

First, you got caught, then you got your things taken away, and now you’re being brought home by a hero. What else could go wrong? What hero did things like this? “Mm…” you glanced up at Taishiro who had his elbows bent and a happy expression on his face, why was he always so happy?

“Why are you doing this?” you questioned and Taishiro turned to look down at you. Somehow he knew that no answer would satisfy you. So he wouldn't stress himself trying to figure out what he could say. Instead, he glanced forward. Watching as the light just above the door continued to change, indicating each floor you passed.

“We’re almost there,” he said, and you noticed his voice sounded a little flat, almost like he was disappointed. But part of you expected that more than likely he wasn’t planning on spending his night with a vigilante. Still, you were a little annoyed he didn’t answer your question.

“Fine then…” you said as you crossed your arms and turned away from Taishiro, somewhat acting like a child. But at the moment, you didn’t care. When the elevator finally came to a stop and the door opened, you had debated about running.

But chances are Taishiro would catch you again and you really didn’t have anywhere else to go. Still, you were surprised to be greeted with what looked to be a rather large living room. There were several pieces of furniture including a couch which sat in front of a large flat-screen television.

“Well come on in!” Taishiro exclaimed cheerfully as he stepped off the elevator and you heard the wooden floor give a creak underneath his weight. You took a step back, once more debating if you should try for an escape. It would be so easy, just push the ‘lobby’ button and you’d be on your way.

You raised your hand, ready to reach over and enact your plan. But froze when Taishiro turned around, blinking when he saw you in the elevator. “Heh,” he placed his hands on his hips. “What are you still doing in there?” he questioned before he extended a hand out to you.

“Uh…” your arms pressed up against your chest and you looked down at that offered hand. It could be debated that it was a strange gesture, but somehow you felt as though Taishiro was always offering a hand out to you.

If it wasn't his hand, then he always appeared as though he were looking for any excuse to touch you. Maybe one day you’d get a real answer from him, but it seemed no matter what his answer always revolved around thinking you were a good person or that if you changed your ways you’d make a great hero.

Maybe he was trying to convert you, undo all the previous damage you had been through that led you to the path of a vigilante. Still, you couldn’t deny that he was trying to make some type of connection to you and despite the many times you had been caught doing this or that, Taishiro always let you go.

You partly wondered if he’d get in trouble for this, harboring a vigilante in his home instead of taking them to the police station as he said he would. You latched onto your lip before giving in and slowly laid your hand in his and once again you were reminded that despite Taishiro’s size, he was awfully gentle with everything he did.

Including clasping his fingers over your hand and guiding you into the living room. You couldn’t help but glance around, taking a full scan of the room. You never thought Taishiro would be one to hang pictures everywhere. But there were several picture frames lining the surface of every table and some were even hanging on the walls.

One, in particular, caught your eye. Taishiro was standing in the middle of the frame with his agency building behind him. But what struck you as odd was the young boys standing on each side of him. One had a white and yellow hood with dark hair and seemed as though he were trying to cover his face as the picture was being taken.

Then the other seemed rather enthusiastic, sporting a big toothy grin though he looked like he had sharp teeth as well as spiky red hair that stuck out at several points. Taishiro must have noticed you were staring at the picture and chuckled before releasing your hand.

“Those are my chick-lings,” he stated confidently, snapping you out of your small trance. “Huh?” you turned to look at him, blinking once or twice. Who refers to anyone as a chick-ling? Well, actually maybe you should have expected such from Taishiro of all people.

Still, you couldn’t help the confused expression on your face. “...what?” you questioned causing Taishiro to chuckle. Seconds later, he reached out and ruffled your hair. “Ah,” frantically stepping away, you pressed your hands against the top of your head. “Don’t do that,” you said flatly, but Taishiro must have chosen to ignore you.

“Those two are the best work-study students I’ve had, our little Suneater is going to be my official sidekick next year! That is if we can work on those delicate nerves of his,” he commented as he pointed to the boy hiding his face in the photo.

You raised your eyebrow and stepped forward, trying to get a better look at the photo. ‘Sidekick, huh?’ you had never met Taishiro’s little helpers, but you often pulled your misfit adventures at night and if those boys had school. Well, it would make sense why you never saw them.

You continued to stare for a few more minutes before you heard Taishiro...sniffing something. You slowly turned your head, seeing that he was bent down to your height. That sniffing continued as he leaned closer, in turn, causing you to lean back.

“What are you doing?” you questioned, slightly bewildered at the man’s behavior, but he seemed to come back to reality a few seconds later. It was strange having him so close, though you noticed his yellow eyes seemed to stand out, especially against that black mask he always wore.

A few blond strands still stuck out from under his hood. You often wondered if his hood somehow hurt him considering it looked awfully close to his scalp. “Hm, oh sorry just…” he leaned back, suddenly acting a little shy as he glanced away from you causing you to tilt your head. Why was he acting so strange?

You flinched when he suddenly looked back at you and swiped his tongue over his lips which would have concerned you if not for his next set of words. “Well...you smell mighty sweet,” he claimed, and before you had time to properly react.

You felt his hands slip underneath your arms and let out a cry as you were lifted off the ground. You kicked your feet when Taishiro leaned close and you could feel the way he buried his face into your unruly hair. He then proceeded to sniff once more causing a chill down your spine.

“Your hair smells sweeter than chocolate, gotta confess it’s making me a little hungry,” he stated and you looked at him bewildered before he lowered you back onto the floor. “That’s a compliment,” he stated shortly after as if you were supposed to thank him for the fact you smelled like candy.

“...thanks?” you replied, still unsure of what Taishiro’s motive was. “Are you still a little wet from the rain?” he questioned as he placed his hands on his knees and once more leaned down to your height. “How about I getcha a towel or a fresh set of clothes?” you raised your eyebrow, despite the fact that you were mostly dry.

Your clothes were still sticking to your skin and had dried into uncomfortable creases and wrinkles. You latched onto your lip, almost angry that you were going to accept the kind offer from a hero. But, not all heroes were bad and Taishiro was proving exactly that.

Yet, you couldn't help but think that eventually...one day he would turn on you and end your vigilante days once and for all. But at the moment, you couldn't spend your time worrying about your unknown future with Taishiro. “No towel, but a change of clothes if you have anything that would fit me,” part of you doubted that.

But Taishiro proved time and time again he could surprise you. He seemed happy with your response. “You got it!” he said with a playful wink before he turned to walk away, once more leaving you wondering why he seemed to put so much trust in you. When he disappeared down the hallway, you turned to look over your shoulder.

Glancing at the elevator that you could so easily make a run for and finally escape. But for some reason, you felt compelled to stay where you were. You heard the distant shuffle of clothes echo in the background which was more than likely Taishiro searching high and low for something that could fit you.

“Mm…” the floor continued to creak underneath your feet as you walked towards one of the windows, the sky was painted a dull gray but even then Esuha City continued to flash its usual display of bright colors. But unlike most days, there weren’t many people on the streets below considering it was still raining.

You wondered when it would let up and got lost as you continued to watch the rain come down. So much so that you didn’t notice when Taishiro walked up behind you. "Hm?" he looked at your reflection in the glass and chuckled softly before he leaned down to your ear.

“Pretty ain’t it?” you jumped and quickly turned around with your hand clenching your chest. “Oh!” Taishiro took a step back. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said and you responded with a growl which he seemed to yet again ignore.

“I found something for you to wear,” he stated as he held up what looked to be one of his standard hero suit hoodies. But there was something slightly different about this one. It looked significantly smaller for one thing and though it was still orange, the letters across the front of it were yellow with a white and black outline.

“Uh…” you raised your eyebrow, at least it would go past your thighs or so you assumed. “This is from when I first started my hero career, I fooled around a bit with colors since then…” he said with a sheepish laugh before lightly shoving the hoodie into your arms.

“Hm?” you blinked and held it up by the shoulders before pressing it against your body, trying to see just how well it would fit you. “I got a bathroom down the hall there, just past the closet. First door to the left,” he instructed as he pointed and your eyes followed that finger.

You glanced back at the garment in your hands, allowing your thumbs to run over the fabric. It was smooth and almost had a slippery surface, did that help with his quirk? You weren't sure and you were almost mad at yourself for even wanting to inquire about his quirk.

You latched onto your lip. “...thanks,” you replied before you ducked your head and quickly scurried past Taishiro and down the hall. “Huh!?” he seemed rather surprised by your actions and the fact that he had to step back as you scurried past him. He shifted his gaze to the hallway where he heard the bathroom door slam shut.

He reached up, scratching his head as he was clearly confused by your actions. He partly wondered if anyone had ever gifted you anything before, then again maybe he was coming off too strong. A click sounded as you locked the bathroom door behind you and turned around, slightly startled by the sight before you.

The bathroom itself was rather large and had a stand-in shower with sliding glass doors with one corner squared off to make a bathtub. The counter of the sink was well-organized and had a large square mirror hanging on the wall. You blinked. ‘Well...maybe I was wrong…’ seemed Taishiro did enjoy certain aspects of being a hero and making a lot of yen.

Regardless, you shook your head and proceeded to the sink counter, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your hair still appeared dried out and slightly curled, your clothes looked crusty and had several stiff creases in them. "Mm..." you lifted your arm, glancing at the elbow that had gotten torn.

The wound itself still looked fresh and the skin around it inflamed, but nothing that wouldn't heal. Overall, you certainly looked like someone who had spent too much time in the rain. You could still hear the gentle drops echoing as they hit the roof of the building.

You couldn’t help but glance at the ceiling, allowing yourself to get lost in the sound of the rain. You would have much preferred to have gotten away with your bag of goods. But instead, you were here. You then let out a sigh, once more holding up the hoodie you were given.

“Mm…” you laid it out on the counter before you went about removing your clothes. But you struggled as you tried to pull your shirt over your head and trying to wiggle out of your pants was a short-lived nightmare. You stumbled into the sink counter before kicking your shirt and pants away.

Then you quickly grabbed the hoodie and slipped it over your head, it was still a little big on you but the extra room felt cozy. The sleeves were a little too long and hung off your hands, leaving extra fabric to sway. But at least it went past your thighs and your hair didn’t look too bad when you pulled the hood up.

“Huh…” you glanced at yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that as you tried to decide how much you favored how Taishiro’s hoodie looked on you. “It’s not bad…” you said to yourself before you quickly gathered your clothes off the floor and cradled them to your chest.

Once more the thought of escaping entered your mind as you stepped out of the bathroom and glanced up and down the hallway. “Lookin’ good!” Taishiro suddenly exclaimed, causing you to jump and stumble back. Your clothes falling to the floor in the process and you stared at them a moment before going to yell at Taishiro.

However, your mouth immediately closed when you were greeted with the sight of someone you didn’t recognize. However, they were dressed in Taishiro’s clothing and had similar hair and eyes. But they were rather skinny and muscular. You blinked, and your stance remained stiff as you stared at them.

“Everything alright?” he questioned and you watched as he leaned down. Positioning himself onto one knee in order to pick up your clothes. “Sorry if I frightened you,” he said as he folded your clothes and stacked them on top of each other. “Here you go!” he said cheerfully as he held them out to you.

A smile was on his face and you raised your eyebrow. “Taishiro?” you questioned, trying to ignore how weird his name sounded on your tongue. “What...what happened to you?” you had never seen him like this before. Was this part of his quirk? Did it somehow malfunction?

You slowly reached to take your clothes back, being a tad clumsy considering the sleeves of Taishiro’s old hoodie got in the way. “Oh, this?” he said as he pointed to himself before standing on his feet once more. “Well, I figured I was going a little too fast so I thought I’d start from the beginning," he explained with a chuckle.

"That way, maybe we could get to know each other better?” you raised your eyebrow. “What?” you replied as you placed your hand on your hip, your other kept hold of your clothes. “That doesn’t answer my question, what happened to you?” Taishiro laughed, though it sounded a tad awkward.

“Well,” he began, “this is my standard form, without all that...extra,” he said as he patted two hands against his stomach. “Either way, most folks seem to prefer this form but if you ask me, beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” he stated before he lowered his hands and leaned slightly in your direction.

“Which is part of the reason I’d like to get to know you,” he said as he reached his hand out for your shoulder but you smacked it away. A soft growl rumbled in your throat before you took a step forward, stomping your foot against the floor.

Despite the fact that Taishiro was at least three or more times bigger than you, that didn’t stop you from pointing your finger up at him. “What the hell do you mean beauty is in the eye of the beholder?!” you wanted to make a point that you disagreed with Taishiro, especially knowing he was talking in reference to you.

Your fingers were curling into your pile of clothes, slightly trembling and your hood had fallen down. But you could care less about how unruly your hair looked at the moment. “Well the way I see it is, you seem like someone who’s bottling themselves up” you lowered your finger, tilting your head to the side.

“S-So what…” you replied before quickly turning your back to him in order to scurry down the hallway. “It’s not like...it’s not like I can be someone else you know!” you suddenly snapped as you once more found yourself in the living room.

It was one thing to assume someone was going to be your friend just because you may have shown them a little kindness. But it was an entirely different thing to assume you knew someone’s life story. Taishiro didn’t even ask! But...you couldn’t deny he was correct in a sense.

You had tried to be a hero once upon a time and maybe it was just bad luck, but you quickly discovered that some heroes could be just as bad as the villains they were sworn to protect others from. That’s what caused you to take the first few steps into becoming a vigilante. Taishiro ducked some as he exited the hallway into the living room.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” and you didn’t mean to roll your eyes. “Hmph!” you replied, almost like a child as you reached back and pulled the hood over your head once more. Then you crossed your arms, your back still facing Taishiro as he continued to speak.

“It’s just...I’ve been noticing that you’re treating yourself like a villain..." he trailed off a moment. You imagined he was trying to gather his thoughts, despite how crazy they were. "I can’t help but disagree with the way you’re treating someone I like,” your arms dropped a little and you felt that familiar insecurity begin to rise.

But you refused to allow yourself to show it. “...what?” you questioned as you turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of Taishiro. For once, he wasn’t smiling and you flinched slightly as he stepped closer to you.

“I like you,” he repeated, “...y/n,” he added a few seconds later and you couldn’t help but feel your heart accelerate when he spoke your name. A low heat began to fill your cheeks and you quickly turned your head back to stare at the wall in front of you.

Your fingers curled into the sleeves of the hood you wore and your knees were turned inward, you refused to speak. “Which is why I can’t let you continue this war between you and yourself, I suppose what I’m saying is...you should be kind to yourself even if you’re angry at yourself or what happened to you," he took a deep breath.

"I know some people aren’t so nice in the world,” he continued as he reached out to take your hand and despite your attempt to jerk it out of his grip, once more he proved he could be stubborn when he wanted to be. His fingers curled tightly around your hand and he narrowed his eyes.

Maybe it was the hero in him, but there was also some part of him that didn’t want to see you spend your life in this harmful cycle. Maybe he could continue to try and steer you back onto the path of a hero, but he knew that would take a long time. But he couldn't deny it would be worth every step.

After all, he wasn’t going to let you go anywhere until he at least got through to you a little. Despite knowing that he'd be in hot water by the end. Yet, isn't that what a hero was for? Sometimes sacrificing yourself for others was the noblest thing you could do.

His fingers continued to tighten around your hand, but he was careful not to hurt you, especially when he pulled you forward which caused you to cry out. Once more your clothes fell to the floor and at this point, you could care less about them. Rather you found both your hands preoccupied.

One held securely by Taishiro and the other curling into the front of his hoodie which now felt baggy and too loose for his ‘standard form.’ You still didn’t fully understand how he could switch between forms so easily like that, but now wasn’t the time to ask. You bared your teeth up at Taishiro with a growl.

But he simply blinked in response as though he weren’t the least bit threatened by you and he probably wasn’t. Rather you felt him guide your hand to place over his heart and he leaned down. His eyes locked with yours which didn’t help the fact your face was growing hotter.

“You gotta learn to love your enemies too, so why not start with me?” he questioned with a smile. “Then maybe you can learn how to do it for yourself and I’d be more than happy to help you,” the sound of the rain continued outside but you could tell it was fading and more than likely would stop at any moment.

“...I...” you were speechless as you stood there pressed up against the hero with your jaw hanging open and your eyebrows tilted in confusion. There was a burning anger building in your stomach, but you knew you couldn’t actually be mad considering he was correct in some aspect.

You clenched your jaw and pushed against his chest with your free hand. “I don’t need your help!” you snapped as you ripped your hand out of his grip and proceeded to pound your fists against his chest. But it didn’t seem to affect him considering his quirk could just absorb the damage.

Taishiro frowned and reached his free hand out, cupping the side of your head. Allowing his abnormally large fingers to slip through the strands that made up your hair. You paused and your eyes widened. "I know you don’t, but I’d like to offer anyway,” he stated and you noticed the uninterrupted silence between you two.

“Hm?” you blinked and turned your head, looking out the window to see the rain had stopped just as you suspected it would. The gray sky was slowly being replaced with small patches of sunshine. You imagined the people down below were slowly coming out of hiding to once more go about their normal day.

That anger that was previously brewing in your stomach slowly faded and you turned back to Taishiro, your stare directed at your hands that remained against his chest. You slowly unfolded your fists and pressed them flat against him.

“You heroes don’t take no for an answer, do you?” maybe it was the hero complex, you weren't sure. But either way, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get away from Taishiro. So was accepting the situation as it was, better for you?

No matter how hard you fought against Taishiro, both in the past and present. It seemed he remained the same, constantly chasing after you until he finally caught you in his web or in this case his arms. His soft chuckle sounded once more. “I suppose not,” he replied before smiling.

“What do you say?” he questioned and you glanced away, once more allowing silence to fill the space between you. “I’m...not going to stop,” turning your glance back on him, you continued. “Being a vigilante is the only thing I’ve known since…” you paused, wondering if you really wanted to confess why you choose to be a vigilante.

But maybe it would help Taishiro understand. “The world of the heroes is not all that it’s cracked up to be,” you glanced down. “Some are just as bad as the villains and those are the ones I need to stop," you stated as your hands began to tremble. Then you looked up at Taishiro.

"I know one of your so-called heroes was eyeing that store and could so easily be handed whatever they wanted even when they didn’t deserve it. So I needed to prevent that from happening,” you stated despite knowing that your explanation might not make sense to Taishiro let alone any hero.

Taishiro however, looked a tad confused but he knew that some people did strange things for strange reasons and he couldn’t blame you for trying to do what was right in your eyes even if it was wrong in the eyes of the law. He frowned and reached over. “Hey!” you exclaimed when you felt his fingers take gentle hold of your chin.

He slowly moved your head back to face him. “Sorry,” he said, “I know some heroes must have done you wrong, but I can promise you I won’t be one of them," he said with some sadness in his voice. "I wouldn't let any hero capture you," those set of words caused you to raise an eyebrow.

“What do you mean by that?” you questioned as you jerked your head back, reaching up to massage your chin despite the fact that Taishiro was being extremely gentle. “If anything happens involving you...I’ll be the first on the scene, don’t you worry about that,” you assumed this was yet again another one of his half-hearted attempts to convert you.

To show that he’d always protect you and yet you still couldn’t understand why, other than the fact that Taishiro somehow ‘liked’ you. ‘I might have to make that harder for him,' you thought before shifting your glance to the floor. Then a chuckle escaped you which seemed to surprise Taishiro.

“Is something funny there?” he questioned and you shook your head before taking a step forward. “I think I’m going to enjoy this game of cat and mouse,” you stated before reaching up to lay your hand against Taishiro’s cheek, getting somewhat amused as his eyes widened.

Was he truly surprised that you made an affectionate gesture towards him? Somehow it made your smile grow and you stepped away before turning your back to him. Though he was still slightly flustered, he kept his eyes locked on you and the way your hand ran along the top of a nearby shelf.

Your fingers slowly came to one of the picture frames Taishiro had and you traced the side of it before picking it up. "You know..." you began, catching Taishiro's attention as you continued to stare at the picture.

"You really shouldn't trust a vigilante," you said before your fingers grasped the picture frame tightly and you reeled your hand back. The picture frame flew out of your hand towards Taishiro who instinctively put his arms up.

You smirked and quickly grabbed a flower pot, you didn't bother to see if it was real or not. But you didn't picture Taishiro having a lot of time to take care of living plants. Regardless, you used it to shatter the glass of the window.

The thought of how far you'd fall if you were to jump out of said window crossed your mind for a second. But at this point, you'd take your chances. "Hey now!" he lowered his arms, his eyes wide as he felt the cold air come in from the now broken window.

You grinned and quickly jumped onto the shelf, managing to avoid Taishiro's arms that attempted to grab you. The extra fabric of his hoodie seemed to prove useful as you crossed your arms and took a leap of faith out the window.

Despite feeling the remaining shards that stuck out from the corners of the window shred through the fabric of the sleeves. A cold rush of air surrounded you as you descended towards the busy streets below. "Y/n!" Taishiro screamed as he ran towards the window and stuck his head out.

He glanced around before eventually spotting you and judging by the way you were waving, one of two things was clear. Either he was going to chase after you or for the moment, you had won. "Little troublemaker," Taishiro said as he turned and rushed for the elevator. "I'll catch you yet!" he declared with a determined but happy smile.

#fat gum x reader #taishiro x reader

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

Bnha yandere shoto with darling that's has autophobia ( fear of being alone, unloved, unwanted, ect...)? They don't care that they been kidnapped just please don't leave them alone.

It’s nice to get back to writing with a Darling that’s just as needy as their Yandere, or… almost as needy, at least. Shoto makes for steep competition, even if he seems apathetic, more often than not.

Title: Monophobia.

TW: Emotional Abuse, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, and Mentions of Injury.

“I thought I told you not to wait for me.”

He hadn’t, technically. Shoto had told you to keep yourself occupied while he was gone, to cook and clean and do whatever passed the most time, to stop locking yourself in your closet whenever you heard footsteps from outside his apartment, but he’d never specifically told you not to wait, or, not sit by the front door and hug your knees to your chest, your back pressed against the threshold and your mind preoccupied with every villain Shoto had ever fought, everyone that could have a vendetta against him or a price on his head or a death-wish prevalent enough to purposefully take on one of the top heroes and knew where to find him. And, as your thoughts wandered, everyone who knew where to find you.

Everyone who might want to do something unadmirable with that special piece of information.

You couldn’t tell Shoto that, though. Instead, you swallowed your dread, trying to focus on the image in front of you. On the front door, locked and secured, and your loving, capable boyfriend - the man who’d promised to never let anything or anyone hurt you and who’d sooner chew off his own hands than lay a finger on you. The man you trusted. The man you had to trust. “I was worried,” You explained, your eyes flickering noncommittally from your knees to the living room, where Shoto was still struggling off his jacket, a wallet and a facemask already thrown to the side. “You were late. I couldn’t call you, and I was… I was worried. How would you feel if I didn’t come home?”

At that, he frowned, but you’d been around him long enough to tell he was more upset by the fact that you’d asked than the thought of you being an hour or two behind schedule. No, if you’d walked through that door without a call or an apology or plea for his forgiveness, he wouldn’t have been displeased or concerned or disappointed, he would’ve been furious. He’d always been furious. He was still furious, sometimes, when you forgot about one of the terms of your new relationship.

He turned towards you, but he didn’t step forward. No, you’d have to close the distance yourself, if you wanted him to put in that kind of effort. “There are emergencies. Things come up and I’m the one who has to find a way to fix them.” It was a hypothetical excuse. There could’ve been an emergency, but he wasn’t saying there was. You doubted you’d get a straight answer out of him, not when he was feeling so aloof. “Do you have a problem with that?”

You did. You were left alone, and he was the one to blame. He’d abandon you, leaving you defenseless and exposed with only your own weak quirk and four thin walls to protect yourself, and if something happened, your blood would be on his hands. It was an irrational fear, fueled by implausible scenarios and the knowledge that you had so many enemies and so few allies, but your paranoia clung to the idea like a security blanket, like a lifeline. Like it was the only thing you needed, more precious than food or water or freedom could ever be.

But, you couldn’t say that. You couldn’t make your mouth form the words, even if you wanted to. Instead, you glared at Shoto. “You promised to take me to your agency, today. You said you wouldn’t leave without me.”

“It’s too risky,” He replied, automatically, stepping towards you. His scowl softened ever so slightly. That, or you were just being hopeful. “Sweetheart, if someone recognizes you, I’ll get into a lot of trouble. You know that. You’ll be taken away from me. Is that what you want?”

He was trying to guilt you into submission. That was always his first tactic, when you were being stubborn. You pursed your lips, telling yourself his anxieties were just as unreasonable as your own. “You promised. You told me that is I behaved, you’d--”

“I told you I’d take care of you.” Another step, another injection of artificial sympathy into his veins. The way he spoke was forceful, but it was compassionate, too, brimming with the manufactured tenderness he constantly saw fit to gift you with. “That comes first, your safety always comes first. I’m not going to hurt you, but I don’t know about everyone out there. I can’t be sure about them, I can’t trust them. You’re smart, (Y/n), you can see why. You know how dangerous the world can be, if I let it get to you.”

You pulled your legs into your chest, but you refused to give him what he wanted. The slightest hint of something vague and ominous wouldn’t make you surrender, not when you weren’t the one in the wrong. “Still,” You persisted, taking on enough venom to balance out his sweetness. “You can’t just lie to me, Todoroki, it’s not fair. I can’t stay shut up inside this apartment for the rest of my life, and you can’t act like I can--”

“It’s like you want to get hurt.” If he was annoyed before, he was frustrated now, the words spat through grit teeth, his hands curling into fists at his sides. For a moment, his anger was visible, vivid, but with a deep breath and a slow blink, he kneeled in front of you, regaining his composure with a practiced display. He didn’t touch you, but you wished he would. You wanted comfort, you wanted reassurance, but Shoto rarely cared about what you wanted. “So many things could go wrong, too many things. What if I have to leave you alone? What if I get called out for something only I can handle or lose track of you? What happens when you get lost or panic or try to run, and someone sees a vulnerable, scared civilian that doesn’t know better than to trust the first person who offers them help? What if I’m not there and some awful, manipulative villain comes after you just because they want to get to me? What if you get hurt because I’m not there to save you?”

You knew what he was doing. If anyone knew how much you needed Shoto, it was him, and he was using your own dread, your own fear, your own dependency against you, and he was doing it with a gentle tone and a kind expression and the type of distant, selfless, protective phrases he knew you wanted to hear. He was being cruel. He was cruel, and you knew that. You could see that. You weren’t naive enough to believe he was actually doing this for you.

And yet, you wanted to. More than you’d ever wanted anything else.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out, any denial on your tongue replaced with a breathy, raspy sob, half choked and utterly desperate, as pitiful as it was pathetic. You didn’t bother wiping away the tears beginning to flow over your cheeks, only shutting your eyes and reaching out with both arms, blindly finding Shoto’s shoulders and pulling him close, as close as he could be. With only the slightest hesitation, Shoto gave in, drawing you into his chest and lifting you out of the doorway, letting you wrap yourself around him so tightly, you could convince yourself you’d never have to let go. That he’d never let go. That he couldn’t let go, because he loved you and needed you and wanted you, as badly as you wanted him.

So badly, you could almost ignore the small, careless smile pressing into your neck as Shoto cooed soft nothings, playing the role of caretaker so well, both of you almost believed it.

Almost.

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kurokoros · 3 years

Text

risky business | dabi

Rated: M

Words: 5.3K

Pairing: dabi x fem!reader

Summary: On your way home, you run into Dabi. He has no intentions of letting you go without having a little fun.

AN: This is a secret santa gift for @vixen-scribbles <3 I don’t think we’ve spoken much, but I hope you had a wonderful holiday! Also a special thanks to @the-smut-pile for hosting this exchange! This is by far the riskiest (hur hur) thing I’ve ever written, so I hope all of the degenerates out there are happy lmao

Warnings: smut, dubcon (consensual non-consent/roleplay), predator/prey undertones, knife play (and minor blood play) public/outdoor sex, mentions of voyeurism/exhibitionism, anal play, dirty talk (degradation), choking, hair-pulling, spanking/slapping, spitting rough sex, overstimulation, creampie/unprotected sex, aftercare at the end

Blue eyes stare down at you tauntingly from across the alley. He cocks his head to one side, watching as you shrink back against the wall. Amusement flickers across his face, a sick smirk tugging at his lips as you stare back at him, wide-eyed. Frozen in place now that there’s nowhere left to run. There’s a scream lodged in the back of your throat, trying to force its way out, but icy fear tears through your chest and rips the air from your lungs.

As your bottom lip trembles, his smirk only grows, pulling grotesquely at the staples holding his mismatched skin together. Burning, turquoise eyes look you over slowly, trailing from your terrified expression to your legs, your bare skin on display thanks to your short little skirt. Hungrily, he devours you with his eyes. Expression calculated. His eyes are practically glowing as he stalks towards you, his irises reflecting the light of the blue flames dancing threateningly on the tips of his fingers.

The predatory glint in his gaze makes your stomach twist into knots, but you still can’t will your legs to move.

“Well, what do we have here?” Dabi asks, his voice low and rough. A shiver runs down your spine. He stops when the two of you are nearly touching, an inch of space left between his chest and yours. Close enough for you to feel the immense heat radiating from the flames. “You lost, sweetheart?”

Concern drips from his tongue, but it’s mocking. Snide. Maybe the question would sound sincere if you didn’t know exactly who he was. If it wasn’t a wanted criminal standing in front of you. A villain. If he wasn’t looking at you like you were prey that he hunted down.

He’s playing with you. Toying with you now that he finally has you cornered. The chase was fun while it lasted, but now he has you right where he wants you, looking up at him like you’re nothing but a scared little animal. It’s pitiful, really. How easy it was. You made it so easy for him to catch you, almost like you wanted to be caught. A willing participant in the game of cat and mouse.

You don’t respond. Can’t. Desperate, your gaze flicks towards the mouth of the alley, hoping to find someone who could help you. The streets are still busy this late at night, the last train yet to depart.

It’s with a sinking feeling that you realize no one is going to help you. Most of the passersby refuse to look into the dark alley. And the lone man who does quickly averts his eyes.

Dabi’s gaze follows yours. Sick satisfaction bubbles in his chest when he watches the same man scurry away, his eyes wrenched away from the scene, ignoring what he’s just seen.

The flames licking at his knuckles extinguish themselves. Smoke wafts through the night air, dispersing slowly.

The tips of Dabi’s fingers scorch your skin as he grabs you by your jaw, digits digging into your chin. You wince as he yanks your head around, forcing you to face him. The fire is gone, but his hands are still burning hot, and his grip is tight enough to hurt. When your eyes lock, you find it impossible to turn away. Hypnotized by that deep shade of blue.

Suddenly, your mouth starts to work. “Please,” is all you manage to choke out, trying to beg him to stop, but the rest of the words die on your tongue.

“That’s right. Start begging like the little slut you are.” You want to shake your head, but his grip is too tight. “I’m in a good mood tonight,” he says, digging his fingers into your cheeks even harder, liking the pained grimace you give him. “Be a good girl for me and this won’t hurt too much.”

Hot fingers brush against your bare leg, and you’re wrenched back to reality. You slam your hands into his chest and shove him away. He grunts, taken off-guard by your boldness, and stumbles back just enough for you to slip away. You throw yourself to the side, lunging towards the mouth of the alley. But Dabi is faster. Before you can get far, he’s on you again. A strong arm wraps around your waist and hauls you back. You start to cry out, but the sound is smothered by a scarred palm covering your mouth. Instinct drives you to lash out, but Dabi throws you up against the wall before you can kick him.

It knocks the breath out of you. This time, his hand wraps around your throat and squeezes hard, choking you. It doesn’t take long for black spots to dot your vision. Your hands scramble for purchase around his wrist in a weak attempt to pull his hand away. Hot metal burns your fingertips. And you claw at him, your nails digging into the back of his hand and ripping at the staples holding him together.

Dabi swears as you manage to tear one of them out. The bloody staple clatters to the pavement, and the quiet, metallic chiming sound it makes might as well be a death toll. It’s followed by a louder shink that makes your blood freeze in your veins.

Cold metal grazes your cheek. Your struggling comes to an abrupt halt, your grip on his wrist loosening. Heart skipping a beat, your stomach twists as he carefully drags a knife down to your jaw, the sharp tip digging into your soft skin, though Dabi is careful not to cut you.

He sighs, low and frustrated, and you fight the urge to curl into yourself when he levels you with a harsh look, blue eyes alight. “You really wanna piss me off, dollface?” As he taps the blade against your cheek, you squeeze your thighs together, ashamed of the slick feeling growing between your legs.

When it becomes clear you aren’t going to fight him again, he releases your throat. Lightheaded, you gasp for breath. The knife shifts away from your skin, but doesn’t go far. Moonlight reflects off the blade as Dabi holds it in front of you, letting you get a good look at the thin, sharp object. The threat is blatant, and you shrink back against the wall.

There’s an audible hitch in your breathing as the tip of the knife touches your collarbone. The cold steel against your bare skin almost makes you flinch, and Dabi chuckles when he hears the small, shaky sound that falls out of your pretty mouth.

“Not so brave now, huh?” he murmurs, dragging the flat side of the knife along the column of your throat. You shiver as he ghosts the blade over your pulse point. “You gonna behave this time, or do I have to teach you a lesson first, pretty girl?”

The question hits you between your ribs, and you bite your lip when the knife slides back over your collarbone, trailing towards your cleavage. He clucks his tongue when you don’t respond. “Answer me,” he demands.

The blade stops when he reaches the top button on your shirt. You hold your breath as the sharp tip slips beneath the fabric. The button pops off and falls to the ground as Dabi slices through the thin string holding it together, revealing more of your pretty skin to his predatory gaze.

With the knife tracing the curve of your breast, you don’t dare ignore him. “No. I’ll—I’ll behave,” you tell him, stumbling over your words. Unintentionally, you arch your chest into his hand as the knife presses against you even harder, just shy of marking you.

“Good girl.” Dabi slips the knife under the next button, but changes his mind before he can cut it. Instead, he places the blade under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. “Now why don’t you strip for me?”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“You heard me.” Dabi shoves his knee between your thighs, forcing your legs apart. Your stomach rolls, but you have to stifle a moan when he grinds his leg against your clit through your panties. “Give me a show. Nice and slow, and maybe I’ll let you cum when I fuck your cunt.”

There’s something perverse about undressing yourself for him. Letting him watch as your shaking fingers fumble with the buttons on your shirt, practically ripping at them in your hurry to comply. He’s making you a willing participant in your own humiliation. Dabi wets his lips, rocking his thigh against your cunt with every button you pop open, which only makes you fumble more.

It doesn’t take long for him to grow impatient. As you struggle with the last button, Dabi murmurs a curse and tears your shirt open for you.

In his haste, the knife nicks your collarbone. The pain makes you whimper, and you flinch, causing the knife to dig into you harder before he angles it away. Blood wells in the cut. It isn’t too deep, or too long, but it stings. Your hips jerk against Dabi’s thigh, grinding against him. This time you moan outright, pleasure mixing with the pain, though you’re ashamed of yourself for it.

Dabi tenses when you mewl and rut against him, watching, fascinated, as a line of blood drips down your chest and soaks into the lacy cup of your bra. Even in the dark he can see the fabric stain.

There’s a split-second pause after as he presses the knife to your face. His demeanor shifts. Those blue eyes meet yours, searching your gaze, and he hesitates. Like he’s waiting for something. There’s blood on the blade from when he cut your chest, and it smears across your mouth as he slowly traces your bottom lip. Your gaze doesn’t waver, and you taste iron on your tongue after he pulls the knife away.

He slips back into character as his fingers slip into your hair. Dabi grabs a fistful of the soft strands and yanks, forcing your head to the side. A pathetic little whimpering sound is all that comes tumbling out of your mouth, and he smirks as you look at him with wide, teary eyes that do the begging your mouth can’t.

Your shirt is left intact as his attention shifts lower. He removes his knee from between your legs, and you almost whine at the loss of contact that you know you shouldn’t want. It shouldn’t feel good, but it does.

The knife leaves your cheek.

You tense.

The flat of the knife teases the inside of your leg, and you don’t dare move as Dabi drags it higher, inching closer to your dripping pussy. His hand disappears under the hem of your skirt, and you mewl, back arching off the wall as a hot hand teases your sensitive inner thighs. The fabric bunches around his wrist, revealing inch after inch of velvety soft skin to the chilly air. He grabs your leg with his other hand. Scorching fingers dig into your thigh, easily prying your legs further apart. As you shiver, Dabi runs the blade against you, making you squirm even more from the cold and the underlying threat of danger.

He stops. Looking down at your trembling form, Dabi eyes the mess he’s made of you already: your shirt ripped open, chest bloody where the knife sliced you open so easily, your skirt hiked up over your quivering thighs. You’re practically begging for him to bury his cock inside of you. Fuck you like a little bitch in heat.

You’d take his cock so well. Squeeze him just right. But he’s not done playing with you quite yet.

Suddenly, the knife is pressed up against your panties. The flat edge grinds against your clit, and you squeal. Without thinking, you grab his arm again, this time to steady yourself. His fingers are slick with blood where you ripped out one of his staples, but you don’t care, clinging to him as your legs threaten to give out. Your head falls back against the brick wall as he rubs the blade against your covered slit. “Don’t,” you plead, voice weak and laced with arousal. “Please…”

Dabi laughs when a soft, pleased mewl slips from your lips, your hips rolling back against his hand as he rubs your clit with the flat of the knife. It’s fucking filthy. Hot. And you hate how good it feels to have him play with your pussy like this.

You willingly spread your legs for him this time, and Dabi finally pulls your skirt over your hips. He leaves it bunched around your waist and takes a small step back to watch you grind your slutty cunt against the knife.

By now, your panties are soaked with your arousal. An ache settles low in your belly, and your walls clench around nothing as he presses harder against your clit. Tears burn at the backs of your eyes, shame swirling sickly in your stomach as you tug on his wrist instead of pushing it away.

The blade shines under the moonlight, glimmering wetly, and he quirks a brow. You barely stifle a whimper as he pulls his hand from between your legs. Before you can squeeze them shut, he shoves his knee between your legs again, his thigh grinding up against your pussy, not allowing you a moment to breathe.

“Look at that,” he muses, twisting the knife between his fingers so that you can see your own slick glistening on the blade. “Fuck, that’s hot. Thought you didn’t want me, dollface?” Your skin burns where he touches you. “Look how fucking wet you are already. Kinky little slut.” You turn your head away, but Dabi grabs your chin and forces you to look at how wet he made you.

When he’s sure you’re paying attention, he lifts the knife to his mouth. Heat flares in your belly as he licks your slick from the blade. Taunting you.

You slump forward as he yanks his knee away from your pussy, your legs giving out underneath you. Dabi catches you, manhandling you as he grabs your hips and spins you around; shoves you up against the wall, your cheek pressed to the bricks as his hand fists in your hair. You barely have time to steady yourself with your hands. Dabi presses the knife against the curve of your ass cheek, and you gasp as the sharp blade slips under your panties. He cuts the lacy fabric away and it flutters down, catching around your ankle. It’s soaked through with your arousal, cold against your leg.

The knife dangles from his fingers, pressed up against the inside of your thigh. The blade barely grazes your clit this time, teasing your slick folds. This time you can feel the cold metal against your swollen nerves, the sharp edge so close to nicking your sensitive folds.

Dabi slaps your ass suddenly. You squeal, hips lurching against the knife. He angles the blade away before you can cut yourself, spreading your cheeks apart so he can see your dripping slit. By now, you’re practically trying to grind against the knife, anything to relieve the tension between your shaking legs. It hurts. And the humiliation that washes over you only makes it worse.

“Gonna cum for me already?” Dabi asks, watching your hips stutter as he brings the knife back to your thigh. You whimper as he nicks you again. Warm, wet liquid beads in the cut, blood mixing with the fluids dripping from your drenched pussy. The blood smears against your leg as he rubs his knuckles against you. “Dirty bitch. Cum then. Or do you need a little help getting there? Hmm? You want me to make you cum all over my fucking hand?”

You shake your head, sobbing as he tosses the knife to the ground. Dabi’s arm wraps around your front as he brings his hand back to your leg. His fingers burn as they trail across your inner thigh. Small welts in the shape of his fingertips scorch your skin, leaving marks that won’t disappear for weeks.

Lazily, he strokes your clit, hand still hot to the touch as he rolls the swollen nub with his thumb. His chest molds against your back, crushing you between him and the wall as he traces your slit with two fingers.

Your body responds eagerly to his touch, your legs spreading to accommodate his hand. He chuckles as your hips roll against him, practically begging for him to fuck you, to make you cum over and over until you can’t take it anymore. And he’s more than willing to give your body what it wants.

You gasp as he shoves two of his fingers into your pussy, immediately picking up a harsh pace as he fucks you with his hand. You make it easy for him, your pussy taking his fingers so fucking well. They’re thick and long inside you, and it doesn’t take him long to find that spot that makes you squirm and cry out.

He shoves your face harder against the wall. Bits of brick dig into your cheek, but you barely feel them as he grinds his palm against your clit.

Expression contorted with bliss, you whimper as he forces a third finger inside your tight cunt, your walls stretching around the digits. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, rough thrusts picking up speed as your legs tremble, threatening to give out beneath you. It stings. Too much. Too soon. But Dabi doesn’t stop his brutal pace, even when there are tears streaming down your face and you choke out a sob, pleading with him to stop or slow down.

That only seems to encourage him. He yanks on your hair, pulling your head back against his shoulder so that your back is arched and he can see the line of blood dripping down your chest. You wince as one of the staples on his palm catches on your clit. The cool, metallic sensation is foreign and rough, but so, so good. Dabi grinds against your ass suddenly, making sure you feel every inch of his hard cock.

There’s a mocking tone in his voice when he asks, “That hurt?” He presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing with fast circles. “Can’t be that bad if it’s making you this fucking wet. Bet you like this, huh? Fucking slut. Letting a villain play with your cunt like this. Are you gonna cum for me? Fuck, this pussy is gonna feel so good around my cock.”

Your cheeks burn as you hear the slick sound of his fingers thrusting into your pussy, fluid dripping down his hand. Humiliation burns in your chest as you realize how quickly he’s going to make you cum just by fingering you in some dirty back alley. And your body betrays you, your cunt clenching around his fingers as those staples rub against your swollen clit again. The contrast between his hot fingers and the cold metal is dizzying.

“Please,” you whimper as he curls his fingers against your sensitive walls. Your pussy clenches around him tighter, a knot winding tight in your belly as he forces you closer to the edge.

Dabi lets go of your hair. You moan as he slaps the back of your thigh. “Desperate little bitch,” he calls you. “Begging me to play with your dripping cunt in some dirty back alley. Now fucking cum. That’s all you’re fucking good for.”

It’s him degrading you that gives you that last push you need, your body unable to fight him anymore. Dabi’s fingers curl just right and your hips buck into his hand, taking him deeper. Those staples rub against your clit harder, and your body locks up as an orgasm rips through you, leaving you breathless as you cum all over his fingers with a silent scream.

He drags your pleasure out until you’re crying, but you’re too weak to push him away. All you can do is squirm and cum again as he overstimulates you. And you feel empty when he finally pulls his drenched fingers from your cunt.

You slump against the wall as he lets go, fingers scraping the bricks as you try to hold yourself up on your trembling legs. He doesn’t allow you to get comfortable though. Dabi’s hand slaps your ass, and he chuckles when you squeal. He takes a step back, watching your cum drip down your thighs before glancing at your swollen pussy.

His belt jingles as he rips at the buckle, tearing at the leather. Your cunt clenches. Dabi shoves his pants down his hips just enough to pull out his thick cock, the tip flushed and beaded with pre-cum. He hisses as he strokes himself, his fingers running over the piercings lining the underside of his dick.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you realize his fingertips are on fire as he grabs your waist and forces you to bend over, giving him a nice view of your ass and your sloppy cunt. His grip on your hip is bruising, his burning fingers digging into your side harshly, branding you with more small burns. You flinch away from the heat, but Dabi only grabs you harder, holding you in place.

You whimper as he rubs his cock against your slit, rocking against you slowly just to torment you. The metal piercing through the head of his dick is hot enough to make your toes curl as it rubs against your sensitive clit, your nerves frayed from his earlier ministrations. The bricks beneath your hands scrape at your palms and scratch your cheek. Unwanted arousal further mixes with the sharp spikes of fear prickling at your skin, sending heat flooding your belly as slick drips down your inner thighs.

“Please,” you mewl as he reaches between your legs and lines his cock up with your entrance. Dabi easily knocks your legs apart when you try to squeeze them shut. “Please, stop, I can’t—” Your protests turn into a choked moan as he swipes a finger over your clit to shut you up, getting sick of your whining.

That’s all it takes to distract you, your naughty hips wiggling against him enticingly when he rubs with fast circles, his fingers heating up.

It’s amusing, Dabi thinks. How you keep pretending you don’t want this. How you keep telling him to stop when your body is begging for him. Little slut.

He buries himself inside of you with one hard thrust, splitting you open with his cock. You squeal, jerking, and buck against him, taking his cock even deeper as your walls stretch around him until it hurts. He’s so fucking big inside of you. Even his fingers weren’t enough to stretch you out. And the piercings lining the underside of his shaft rub your walls perfectly as he drags his cock back out until only the tip is left inside.

“Knew you wanted a fat cock inside of you,” Dabi sneers, laughing as you clench around him and moan. “Fucking cock slut.”

Dabi doesn’t let you breathe as he starts thrusting and grinding against your dripping cunt, fucking you roughly from behind. His hips slap against your ass with each hard thrust. His fingers dig into your waist. At some point, one of his hands palms your breast, slipping beneath your bra to pinch and pull at your nipple.

The filthy sound of your wet walls clinging to his thick cock fill the alley. Abruptly, you’re reminded that anyone could walk by and see you like this. Sobbing and moaning as you let a villain—a wanted criminal—fuck your soaked cunt. The thought makes you clench around him harder, your pussy sucking him in deeper.

And Dabi knows exactly what you’re thinking. “Fuck, your pussy feels good,” he tells you, grabbing either side of your waist so he can drag you back on his cock and fuck you harder, using you for his own pleasure. “You get off on this? Being fucked where anyone could see you?” He snorts. “Naughty girl.”

You shake your head weakly, and Dabi laughs at you again. More tears burn your eyes.

Dabi grins as you start rolling your hips back against his, finally taking his cock like a good girl. Your teary cries have softened into muffled moans and mewls, slutty little sounds that make his cock twitch. Every thrust makes his piercings rub against your walls. Your pussy won’t stop fluttering around him. Clenching and trying to take him deeper.

You’re dripping all over his cock and balls. Making a mess all over him with your sloppy pussy. He can’t help but dip one of his hands between your legs to run his fingers through your slick folds. He rubs your clit with his thumb until your hips start to twitch, then cruelly pulls away just to hear you whine and beg for him to touch you.

A slicked-up finger slips between your cheeks, and you squeak as Dabi’s thumb presses against your hole. The way you moan when the digit slips inside of you is needy and embarrassing. The knot in your stomach coils tighter as he stretches you out, playing with your ass as he fills you with his cock.

Your muscles clench around him. Dabi’s fingers dig into your ass cheek, spreading you apart so he can watch you take his cock, see his finger shoved inside of your other slutty hole. The sight makes his cock twitch inside you, and he groans.

Dabi’s thumb pops out of your hole. He slaps your ass hard enough to make you cry out. Fingertips dig into your skin, littering you with small burns that make you writhe underneath him. The air surrounding you is sweltering, leaving you sticky with sweat.

He grabs you by the neck, yanking you upright and pulling your back flush against his chest so he can whisper absolutely filthy things in your ear. You latch onto his wrist again, your head lolling back against his shoulder, back arched in a pretty curve. The new angle has his cock battering your sweet spot with every thrust, and your hips move with his, grinding back against him as his fingers constrict around your throat, choking you. Dabi shoves your torso against the wall, giving himself better leverage as he fucks you harder.

A hand dips between your legs again, this time to play with your clit, rolling and pinching it with his fingers. He’s going to make you cum one more time. Make you cum around his cock like the slut you are. Stubbornly, you try to squirm away from his rough touch, refusing to give in. Pissed, he slaps your cunt, making you squeal. Hot fingers roll over your clit, and this time you give in to the heat, letting it cloud your mind as you lose yourself to bliss.

Blue eyes glance at your parted lips, your mouth open as you pant, your eyes half-lidded and hazy. Dabi tightens his grip on your neck. Tilts your head back for a better angle. Spits in your mouth. Your eyes widen, but he squeezes your throat. “Swallow it,” he murmurs in your ear.

You do as you’re told, further humiliated. But you don’t have time to dwell on it as his cock pounds you and his fingers swirl over your clit just right.

Your mouth falls open as you clench around his cock, cumming hard, your orgasm tearing through you. It leaves you breathless. The only sound you make is a choked whimper, a mewl that almost sounds like his name, but it’s so muddled you can’t tell. Your legs tremble beneath you, Dabi’s chest and hands the only thing holding you up.

He fucks you through it, groaning again as your cunt spasms around him. Dabi drags your orgasm out until it hurts, your body sensitive and spent from everything he’s put you through.

With a resounding slap, he buries his cock inside of your pussy, cumming deep inside of you. The rush of warmth has your eyes fluttering shut, a sigh falling from your pretty mouth.

Thick, milky fluid drips down your thighs as he eases his cock out of you, tucking himself back into his pants. Cool air brushes against your wet cunt, and the uncomfortable feeling makes you shift. Dabi’s cum is sticky on your legs. Hot. And he slips a hand between your legs to shove it back into your pussy.

Your heart is still pounding in your chest when his grip starts to slacken. Dabi’s hand loosens around your throat, allowing you to breathe again. Heat sinks into your skin as he rubs his thumb against your hip, soothing a tender spot where his fingers dug into you a little too hard. There are burns there. Not bad enough to scar, but you’ll feel them later every time you move, his touch imprinted on your body, claiming you.

Possessiveness flairs in his chest, and he presses himself closer to your back, relishing the feeling of your body against his. Slowly, he moves his hand higher, slipping it under your ruined shirt. Two fingers tap against your waist, demanding attention like they did earlier, when he leaned in close while walking you home and told you to run. Indulging in a scene the two of you have only talked about before.

You looked at him with such wide eyes when he did, nervous and excited. It was the heat in his gaze that sent you running, pangs of arousal already getting you wet before he even caught you.

“Hey.”

Dabi sighs when you don’t react to the sound of his voice, your gaze far off as you stare at nothing, your breath slowly evening out. He adjusts his grip on your waist, squeezing you just a bit tighter to his chest. “Hey,” he tries again, jostling you with his shoulder. His fingers dig into your cheeks when he grabs your chin, gently turning your head towards him. The pad of his thumb brushes against your bottom lip, coaxing you back to him. The vacant look in your eyes slinks away when his gaze finds yours in the dark. And you sink into deep blue. “You with me, doll?”

The arm looped around your waist doesn’t lose its tension until you finally nod.

Slowly, you lean into the hand on your jaw, soothed by the heat and the rhythmic motion of his thumb stroking your cheek. Dabi lets you nuzzle into him, your eyes falling shut. His breath fans over the side of your face, and you subconsciously lean back against the warmth sinking into you from behind, seeking out his affection.

“Okay?” Dabi presses his lips to your temple, lingering as you sigh.

“You broke character,” you whisper as he eases you around in his arms. And you cling to him, hands fisted in the back of his jacket and your head tucked against the side of his neck.

He only shrugs. “Wanted to give you a chance to tell me to knock it off. Didn’t think you’d like me cutting you up like that.” His tone turns teasing. “But you took my cock so well, didn’t you, doll?” He runs his hands down your hips. “What a good girl. Next time I might fuck that cute ass, too.” Dabi grabs your cheeks and squeezes suddenly, and you squeal, giggling as he forces you up onto your toes. “Bet you’d like that.”

Dabi kisses from your neck to your collarbone, his lips finding the small cut he made. It’s stopped bleeding already, but there’s a ruby line trailing down your chest. You sigh as he focuses his attention there, being unusually soft with you.

You call out his name—his real name, but he shakes his head, pulling away to level you with a fond look, and you realize he needs this as much as you do. “Let’s get you home, doll.”

#dabi x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #tw: dubcon

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humanitysburrito · 4 years

Text

𖥸 - delirium

𑁤 SUMMARY; you and dabi reminisce on your friendship while you bleed out in his arms ᨟ PAIRING; f!reader x dabi ᨟ WARNINGS; 18+! smut, light bondage, angst, death, blood and wounds, language, outta char dabi? lol idc, dabi is toya todoroki ᨟ WC; 5k

authors note; this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written. I hope I wrote the whole y/n thing correctly. I debated on how to format the memories and reader quirk, and figured this looked and felt best. This originally was gonna be nothing but smut, but I do love me some sads. Comments are hella appreciated! Practice makes perfect and I will trust the process! (i put together the gif so you can pair it with the end uWu)

Wrong place, wrong time. There simply was no other way to put it. Seeking out Dabi while he was working had always been a dangerous game to play, but neither of you took the time to consider the possibility of friendly fire being your checkmate.

You found yourself stumbling through a vacant alleyway, praying to a higher power - if it existed - that Dabi was able to hear your pleas through the thick of the chaos. Your vision fuzzed into white cotton, prompting you to squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to clear the fog.

When you opened your eyes again, you threw your arms out towards your scarred lover, who was desperately sprinting towards you.

This was the first moment the word ‘love’ ever crossed your mind. The feelings you’ve had for Dabi over the past few years, especially in the last couple of months, have been ambivalent, to say the least. But right now, all you knew was him. All you could see was him. The nearly angelic image of his blue flames fanning out behind him - his tattered coat swaying in the wind. His body language was your gospel, and you were his resolve.

Your best friend.

Damn, you thought.

“Shit! Dabi..” Your fading voice trailed off into a light whisper as your ankles cracked underneath your weight. “I’m sorry.”

You could do nothing but apply pressure around the gaping, shredded hole that tore clear through your stomach. A dumpster broke your fall, and your body slid down to rest in a pool of your own blood.

Your quirk did little to restrain the Nomu that had charged in your direction just minutes earlier. Instead, it absorbed your power and released it instantaneously - piercing it right through you.

Blood oozed from your wound as you erupted into a fit of strained laughter.

Oh, how stupid must I look?

“I’m going out because of my own quirk! How anticlimactic!” Your words came out in a pitiful squeak absolutely littered with sarcasm as the remaining adrenaline in your body faded away.

What felt like a lifetime for you were mere seconds for Dabi as he reached for you, tripping over his feet before sitting down to pull your back flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. One of his palms rested along the side of your neck while the other cupped the side of your face in a vice grip.

“Shut up, y/n. You’re gonna be fine, yeah? Just breathe, doll.”

His heart was hammering wildly through his system despite his attempts to calm down and cool his body off. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, gently rubbing circles on the back your scalp - his first instinct to do whatever he could to make you comfortable.

“Don’t put me in limbo,” you said through gritted teeth as blood seeped out of your mouth. Dabi brought his legs around to hook over yours - similar to the way you two just started to cuddle. “We both know how this is going to end.”

And the both of you did. You’d be stupid not to, and Dabi knew that. He would enjoy this much more if you were a pro hero he could sadistically taunt as your life swayed in the balance. But you weren’t.

It would be easier if you were a comrade who unfortunately took a hit, who would go down forgotten and quickly replaced among the ranks. But you weren’t.

Right now, he wished you were anyone else.

“Quit talking like you’re gonna die, y/n!” He yelled into your skin as he erupted into a vicious cycle of shakes.

How the fuck did it come to this, what the fuck! His turquoise eyes strained forward, pulsing, and burning due to the tears he was unable to produce.

Dabi’s voice was laced with sorrow and regret. You had only heard it one other time, and the realization was the tipping point for you to finally cry. Salty water poured down your face as your mind began to cycle through the memories you’ve made with him.

Sweat pooled on your forehead as you drew closer to the man that was hunched over on the curb of your dirt driveway.

Through the darkness, you could see that he was covered in blood - all the way down his face and chest. Shiny, sharp pieces of metal sticking out from his skin glistened under the moonlight, and although you were still at least twelve feet away, the heat radiating off of him was enough to instantly make your clothes stick to your flesh.

As quiet as you tried to be with your movements, you were careless enough to kick some rocks up under your feet, earning you an icy glare from the man before you.

With one quick movement of his hand, ethereal blue flames roared from his palm in your direction but quickly dissipated into steam as he groaned into a state of incoherence and irrationality - the effects of your quirk.

You rose your hand, beckoning rusty chains to come forth from the earth and bind around him. He looked at you through the bloody strands of his raven hair - his turquoise eyes meeting your (e/c) irises that matched the billowing smoke coming from your quirk. The image in his eyes caused your heart to race. Anger and sorrow were swirling into your soul as he stared at you, but it was overpowered by a desperate plea for help as his eyes became lidded.

“Hell, dollface, you got a second?”

These were the first words Dabi ever spoke to you.

“You should have left me alone, y/n!” Dabi sobbed, leaving light kisses and nips along your ear, gently urging you to keep talking - about anything and everything.

You struggled against him to find a more comfortable position in his arms, shooting a hand up into his scarred flesh. He silently berated himself for letting you help him as much as you did.

Maybe then, he could have lived in a world blissfully unaware of your existence.

He choked on his tongue, his body falling limp against the ground as his aura erupted in a swelling mass of dust as your chains dissolved into the gravel. He passed out - falling face-first into the dirt.

You towered over his unconscious body and reached down, hooking your arms underneath his as you dragged him up your driveway towards your house, keeping him delirious with your quirk just in case he woke up. You brought forth more chains to keep him restrained in the bathroom connected to your garage. The sound of the lights buzzing on was enough to wake him up - snapping his head upright.

You had no choice but to let up on the delirium in an attempt to speak to him. As you knelt down to be level headed, his eyes never stopped following you. “Who are you?”

“You’re the one who has me chained up like a dog! Who the fuck are you?” His voice was strained and horse, exhaustion overpowering his vocal cords.

You raised your (h/c) eyebrows at his question, licking your teeth behind your lips, shaking your head as you stood up and pushed the bathroom door wide open. There was a clear shot through the garage towards the street you just plucked him off of.

“I’ll let you go then. You can make a run from here.” You calmly said, uninterested at his display of aggression. “If you try anything stupid, I’ll gladly tie you right back up and keep you here.” You looked down at him, your (h/c), (h/type) falling from behind your ear to the side of your face. “But let’s not forget who asked for a second of my time, dollface.”

“I forgot about that,” Dabi chuckled behind you. “Always using my own words against me.” A warm shiver trickled up your body as his breath steadied in your ear. “You know, I was just going to use you for some free food and a piece of ass before I left?”

You whispered, panting for air as a smirk painted your lips. “Did you get more than you bargained for?”

Dabi didn’t respond to you. He only squeezed your face closer into his chest as you felt his body jitter around you.

“So, what’s your name?”

There was a brief moment of silence before he answered your question.

He finally responded when you reached up to lightly dapple the blood away from under his scarred eyes.

“Dabi.”

“Hello, Dabi. My name is y/n. Do you make it a habit of passing out in people's yards?”

“Only the yards of pretty dolls like you.” Even through the blood and dirt and the satire in his voice - you notice the smirk on his face brighter than any other smile you had ever seen before.

You scoffed, blinking your thoughts away. “I’m sure you do, dollface.” His pride took a small hit at your attempts to use his words against him. Before he could respond, you pushed his head back into the bathtub and doused his hair in ice-cold water with your shower head.

“Oh, baby, how’d you know?” He managed to whisper in a moan, his hands clutching at his sides.

You couldn’t deny that this was the most exciting thing to happen to you in quite a while. You made your living by side hustling for heroes and villains - you didn’t care the cause as long as there was something beneficial for you in the long run. This was a wanted, and much-needed change of activity for you - the possible danger in it giving you a euphoric feeling your quirk never could.

“All jokes aside, Dabi, I’m glad I met you. Just being your friend has given me the best few years of my life. My only regret-,” you paused in a scream, the soft motions in his hands begging you to stop talking and save it for later, “-is that it took me this long to realize,” you whispered into the air, gritting your teeth and turning around against him the best you could to look at him. “I love you, you know.” Dabi froze, his arms becoming limp around you as he cradled your body.

His mind raced with every memory he’s ever had of the way you looked at him. The way you touched him, the way you took care of him. The way your fingertips gently worked their magic, repairing his weak constitution when he needed it the most.

You had been friends for a few years, and your relationship took its sweet fucking time to grow. His occasional visits for first aid eventually led to him crashing on your couch, to moving in as your elusive ‘never-home’ roommate. He enjoyed being around you because you weren’t a complete nuisance, and you were someone who chose to stay oblivious of his criminal activities.

The day he found out about your own indictments was when Tomura Shigaraki tried to recruit you one day while he was sipping whiskey at the bar.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I didn’t want to come.” The sound of your sneering voice made his ears perk up, and he shot around his bar seat to lock eyes with you.

Even though you declined Tomura’s offer, you came with your own contribution of intel that had a price. That night, you and Dabi stayed up drinking, chain-smoking, and sharing your thoughts and feelings about Stain’s ideology and the hypocrisy of pro-heroes.

Dabi wasn’t sure when he started to develop strange feelings for you. The three years of your friendship had turned into an intense myriad of passionate, sexual frustration that neither of you wanted to cave on. All he knew is that it was a slow, agonizing burn that eventually reached its termination.

If only you two hadn’t taken so long. If only it hadn’t been just last night.

You both somehow arrived home unscathed during a prep mission you decided to join him on because it had been weeks since you last saw each other. It ended with a massive rush of adrenaline coursing through your bodies - the teasing of who was actually the sidekick in the rare villainous scenarios you involved yourself in in flew out the window, and all you could see were equals as you stared into each other's eyes.

“If we do this, I might not be able to stop.” Dabi’s forehead was pressed against yours, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to your own. His words were coated in a sugary lacquer that rolled off his tongue, seemingly into your own mouth. Tears pooled in the corners of you (e/c) eyes - your mind hazy in a rush of anticipation and fear.

At this moment, you two felt like entirely different people - the exhilaration of a strange encounter filling your bodies with lust and excitement.

You needed him.

He needed you.

Dabi’s hand came around the back of your head and grasped at your hair, finally pushing your lips together for the first time in a cry of passion. Serotonin flooded his brain, his eyes opening halfway at the feeling of being absolutely wasted against your lips.

His mouth was warm - conflicting with his cold personality, but he tasted like cigarettes and cheap-ass whiskey - oh, my, you needed more.

The two of you were completely lost. Unaware of what the next step was as you kissed each other like a couple of love-struck teenagers for what felt like a lifetime.

His other hand eventually snaked up your side and underneath your shirt before palming his hand against the small of your back and pushing your body against him. Your hands reached to cup his face, your tongues dancing in a messy rhythm. You pulled away, saliva stringing and popping against his bottom lip. Dabi softly tilted you backward to rest your body on your couch as he climbed on top of you, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck while the cold steel on his face did little to chill the heat rising in your body.

“Da-bi,” your breath hitched in a moan as he nipped at the skin on your throat, your hands fisting his hair in frustration.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say my name like that, doll.” Dabi purred along your throat. “I’m going to make you say it over and over and over again.” His body slithered up to give you one last kiss before he sat up and removed his white shirt, tossing it over the side of the couch.

Your hands trailed along his abdomen, relishing in the feeling of his defined muscles and the cold bars on his nipples. He felt just as you thought he would, and the smell of charcoal and cologne brought you to a drunk reality - an indicator that you were not dreaming.

Your hands messily tried to undo the buckle on his belt, but he slapped them away. He reached down to kiss you again, his hands grabbing at your shirt and pulling it over your head.

Dabi looked down, seeing your nipples hardening underneath your bra. He bowed his head, struggling to keep his balance as a strange wave of guilt rushed through him. There was only one thing about you that he absolutely couldn’t stand - that you could make him feel things he’s never felt before.

It had taken three years to get to this point. What the fuck were you doing? The way you looked splayed out underneath him was nearly a forbidden sight.

“Y/n..” His words were lost as his eyes trailed along with your frame - ravenous hunger evident in his glassy orbs.

“No take backs. I have you right where I want you, so let’s finish what we started.” You reached up and pushed him down against you, capturing his lips in another heated kiss, grinding your hips against the twitching bulge in his pants. He felt you smile along his lips, reassuring the nervousness quelling inside his body.

Within seconds he had picked you up and sat down so you could straddle him. His hands caressed your waist and trickled all the way up to your bra that he quickly disposed of. His pierced tongue swirled around your swollen nipples, nibbling and sucking each one as he pushed your hips down harder, encouraging you to grind a little faster.

Your breath became ragged at the friction between your legs - your pussy practically gushing through your clothes and onto his pants. He pushed you away, leaving one hand on your side while the other unzipped your pants and slid a palm inside to rub along your clothed cunt. Your body shuddered as you threw your head back, leaning backwards to continue to grind as he stroked you teasingly. When he could feel your clit begin to swell and bulge out from your lips, he took the opportunity to sneak two fingers past your underwear and push inside you to beckon you towards him at high speed.

The sounds of your wet sex drenching his skin were almost too erotic for him to handle, and he ripped his hand out to bring it up to your face.

“Lick them clean.”

You did as you were told, taking each one of his digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue in a euphoric trance as you tried to replace what was missing between your legs with your own hand. Dabi snatched your wrist and held it against your thigh. “You don’t touch yourself unless I say so, dollface.”

“Yes, Dabi.” You replied, struggling to catch your breath. Dabi’s display of aggression and dominance was something you only dreamed of, and you needed more.

“Now, be a good girl and get on your knees for me?” The way he said it almost made you pass the fuck out - the demanding yet sensitive tone playing with your ears. It was not a question.

Once again, you followed instructions and sat on the floor. You spread his legs and positioned yourself as you unbuttoned his pants, smiling at his struggling erection, trying to spring free.

A gasp escaped from above you as you pulled his cock out, your hand wrapping perfectly around him. He watched you lick your lips with half-lidded eyes and instantly threw his head back at the feeling of your tongue tracing his head, down the underside of his shaft before licking back up and taking him into the back of your throat. He balled his fists into your soft, shiny (h/c) hair at the feeling and pumped ever so slightly to the rhythm you were still trying to find.

“Fuck, y/n.” The affirmation made you suck him deeper into your throat. Your watery eyes and gagging sounds encouraged him to force your nose down into his stubble as he set the pace and fucked into your mouth.

A feeling of white, hot fuzz started to form in his toes and up to his legs at the sight before him, causing him to rip you away from his cock with a ‘pop.’ “Look at you, dollface,” he cooed, smearing your saliva down your chin as you coughed and struggled to catch your breath. “Is this what you think about at night, hmm? Sucking my dick until you can’t breathe?” He teased, pushing his thumb between your lips to hook around your bottom teeth and pull you up with his index finger tightly fastened underneath your chin.

“Among other things,” you whispered before pulling him into another fiery kiss. His hands squeezed your waist, drawing your jeans down to leave you in nothing but your panties.

“Oh, well, if that’s the case, show me what comes next, babydoll,” Dabi growled as he picked you up and carried you off into your bedroom. He threw you on the bed and ripped off the useless, drenched fabric in between your legs.

The gravity of your situation set in. You were now completely naked in front of your best friend, for the very first time. And you sucked his dick. Oh, my god, I sucked his dick! Your face turned bright red in an embarrassing blush, your arms and legs balling up in an attempt to cover yourself.

“Y/n,” Dabi gently stopped you by crawling on top of you and cupping your face in his hands. “Don’t be shy. You have no idea how beautiful I find you, so let me show you, yeah?” He kissed you, this time it lasted longer than any. It felt different. Your heart strummed with a barrage of hot butterflies as his tongue ran across your teeth and pulled away to slither his body down to your dripping wet core.

“Oh, baby, look at this pretty little pussy.” The sight of your dripping wet, swollen cunt made Dabi want to completely ravage you right then and there. He could see you pulsating with need - wetness pouring down your legs. “You want me to do something about this, doll?”

All you could manage to do was moan in agreement as you lifted your head to give him permission to do anything he desired.

Dabi kissed your hips, down your thighs, so very close to giving you what you wanted. Your spine arched, perfectly, he thought.

He took your clit in-between two fingers, squeezing the bundle of nerves before giving you a quick lap with the tip of his tongue. The sound that escaped your lips was honest and excited him to the point of insanity. After a few seconds he lapped you again, using his tongue to toy with your folds before closing his lips around to suck on your engorged clit. You cried out, writhing in a fit of euphoria.

“Dabi! Oh - fuck, right there!” Dabi switched motions and took your clit into his mouth, sucking on it before using the tip of his tongue to relentlessly nick your swollen bud as it pressurized in his mouth. You were so wet that the entire bottom of his face was soaked, dripping down his chin and neck.

“I could devour you all night long, dollface, look at me.” Dabi wrapped his arm around your waist to prevent you from grinding your pussy in his mouth, pushing your body down into the bed. The minute you made eye contact with him, your orgasm skipped a few steps in the building process.

“You lick my pussy so fucking good - Dabi!” He raised his eyebrows at your reaction, and before you could finish in more ways than one, he pulled away, knocking the wind right out of your body while a cold chill crept up your spine.

“You’re gonna what?” Dabi teased as he rid himself of the rest of his clothes and positioned himself in between your legs, using the head of his cock to toy with the wet folds of your pussy before tapping your throbbing clit. You closed your eyes and tensed up, focusing because the rhythm was totally just enough to-

He pulled away, sitting back in satisfaction. You were speechless, your legs trembling in frustration. “I’ll ask you this again, y/n. What comes next?”

You were a shuddering, whimpering, melting mess at his words. The tone of Dabi’s voice was so erotic to your ears - and the way he spoke to you, so demanding, so sexy, you thought, was a way no one had ever spoken to you before. And you wanted more. You needed more.

“Mm,” You moaned, feeling like you were losing yourself to a darkness, and you were going to let it happen. “Touch me - make me yours. Fuck me, kiss me, just don’t stop, please!” He could tell you couldn’t take it anymore but something inside of him wanted to make this so much worse for you, to drag it out as long as possible.

You threw your head back, losing your reflexes to resist touching yourself.

Dabi snickered, leaning down to purr in your ear, pinning your hands above your head. “Be a good doll and beg for it, then.”

His words caused your lascivious desire to take over, and he was pushed back against your headboard, his arms and legs wrapped in the chains of your quirk. The chains snaked around the supports of your bed, leaving his cock wide open to do as you pleased. The delirium accompanied filled Dabi’s head with ecstasy, leaving him fully vulnerable to your advances. You climbed on top of him and sank your pussy down agonizingly slow to get used to his size. He threw his head back, moaning in a way that sent jolts straight to your sopping wet sex. With a wave of your hand, you banished the chains, looking at Dabi, who was clear-minded and perplexed.

“Wow.” Was all he could say as he gripped your hips and rammed up into you. “You wanna tie me up, is that it?” He said through gritted teeth as he kept you still, vigorously pumping into you. “You wanna have it your way, baby? You want me to shut up so you can fuck me like you want it done? Is this how you want it? Ugh, fuck!” Your skin turned red as his cock continued to massage your velvet lining, your liquid splashing with every thrust.

Your arms rose up and twined in your hair, your breasts bouncing in just the right way to drive him absolutely crazy. The room was filled with the wet noises of this long awaited night - the moans coming from both of you fulfilling the carnal desires deep within.

“Dabi, please let me come!”

He sat up, snaking an arm around your waist to throw you backwards. You locked eyes, both of you struggling to breathe, heaving for dear life. “You feel so good, doll, you like that cock, yeah?”

Dabi sat up on his knees, pulling your waist off of the bed so you were flush against him - his cock bottoming out as far as it could go. He used one hand under your back to keep you raised, and his other one to push your chest into the mattress.

He leaned over you for a brief moment to collide in a kiss - the best one of his life. With you. Only you.

You cried out as he fucked you and gave you everything you needed - everything he could think of giving you. Your hands trailed along his chest to keep him against you, wrapping your arms around his scarred neck to beg for more.

Dabi growled at the sensation rising in his body and ripped away from you, using both hands on your hips to viciously fuck into you - giving you pure, relentless, unadulterated ecstasy.

“Come all over my cock, dollface, do it! You know you want to.” Dabi brought his thumb to your clit, softly rubbing in wide, fast circles. The stimulation inside was matching perfectly with what he was offering your clit, filling your body with something deep and intense.

Dabi’s eyes widened at the feeling of constant streams of wetness, coating his cock and running down his legs. He smirked. “That’s it, y/n, you have permission.” Dabi, nearing his own release, started to shake and bite his lip. “You’re making such a fucking mess!” He growled and threw his head backward, his vision becoming hazy as he rolled his head on his shoulders.

“Da-bi, Dabi!” You screamed out in a lustful moan that was like candy to his ears.

“Yes, that’s it, say my fucking name!”

“I’m gonna cum-ah! Dabi!”

The sight before him was absolutely gorgeous - you - body flushed, drenched in sweat, writhing in rapture as your body exploded into a blended orgasm, your squirting pussy gripping him as you tried to milk him of his own release. But he was so focused on you that he delayed his own orgasm until you were at your tail end. Your body shuddered as he came inside of you, squeaking at the feeling of your pussy being filled with his warmth.

“Y/n,” Dabi moaned, leaning down to pull you in a warm embrace. Your fingers ran through his hair as he salted your neck and cheek with wet kisses and whispers of praise in your ear. “I could get used to this,” he softly growled into your ear, laying on his side to spoon you into him.

The lust and euphoria began to fade, and you two were left to cope with the left over feelings of what transpired. You rolled over, Dabi softly brushing the hair out of your face. This soft side of him was something you never thought he had in him and you wanted to cherish every second of it - not ruin it with a slew of unspoken questions and feelings. Instead, the two of you softly, and passionately kissed yourselves into an accidental sleep.

Both of you wished that you had stayed home to live another night like it. To feel your body cradled close to him - for both of you to experience more of what you had been putting off for so long.

“Keep going, y/n.” He urged you when you hadn’t said anything else, squeezing your shoulder with his arm.

But you were unable to speak anymore. The only sounds escaping were cracked whimpers.

He reached his head down in front of your face, a soft smile forming in the corner of your lips as your beautiful life left your eyes - your arms dropping to your sides as he gave you his final kiss. “I love you, doll.”

Those were the last words Dabi said to you.

He picked your body up and ran towards the little secluded place in the woods that he had learned to call home, and he filled the gap of your conversation with dozens of memories as if you were merely asleep in his arms. When he couldn’t physically go any further, he laid your body on the ground, and set every tree in sight ablaze before getting back to his task at hand.

He had to push you into the back of his mind along with the people he chose to forget about. With you, he had no choice but to forget. Another page torn from the story he was living. He put the walls he let you tear down back up, this time, forever.

Ultimately, he would never forget you. You gave him the first happy experience he’ll ever have, and with every move he continues to make, you will always play a part in them. No matter how hard he tries to forget.

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chaos-of-the-abyss · 3 years

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Why Dany’s Motivation for Abolishing Slavery is Not “Condescending Compassion”

Anon: Someone I know irl keeps who’s a Dany anti keeps saying that they don’t like Dany because she has “condescending compassion” for the slaves she freed. I really want to argue back because I know they’re wrong, but I can’t articulate why. Could you give me an example of what condescending compassion really is, and explain why that’s not what Dany is showing?

Whew, it’s been a while since I got an ask about Dany, but I’m always open to defend her. This one was long and interesting for me, so I put it in post form rather than just answering the ask. I hope you don’t mind, anon.

Dany’s attitude towards the freedmen and the slaves she wants to free in the future is far from “condescending compassion.”

“Condescending Compassion is when a person feels magnanimous enough not to hold someone's 'faults' against them openly. They can't help being a commoner, idiot, mutant or simply wrong so it would be rude to treat them badly because of it. Instead, they resort to the much better idea that they should be sympathetic or even friendly to that lesser being, but of course, they won't really take them seriously.”

Source

This is not what Dany does. Here’s an actual example of condescending compassion. Under the cut for length and Fate/Grand Order spoilers, even though I really don’t think any of my followers know about or play it except for my constant spamming. Also, I will warn you that I ended up talking more about Fate/Grand Order than Dany because I was trying to explain the example, so... sorry about that. Also I got carried away

Someone who really exhibits a serious case of condescending compassion would be Goetia, the main antagonist of Fate/Grand Order Arc 1: Observer on Timeless Temple. Goetia is one of the seven Evils of Humanity, the Sin of Pity, which is, in essence, the embodiment of condescending compassion. To explain:

Goetia was essentially the collective consciousness of the 72 Demon God Pillars, who were familiars of King Solomon, the founder of magecraft. Solomon made a spell to manifest said collective consciousness as Goetia, so the Demon God Pillars could continue to protect humanity after his death.

As Solomon’s familiar, Goetia shared Solomon’s ability of Clairvoyance, which, in Solomon’s case, enabled him to see all of the past and all of the future. Over time, Goetia became enraged that Solomon refused to do anything about the constant death and suffering of humanity despite being an extremely powerful mage who could see all the hardships that had occurred and were in store (thanks to his Clairvoyance). Thus, after Solomon’s death, Goetia possessed Solomon’s corpse, obtaining the majority of his powers as well as nine of the ten rings given to Solomon by God, which was the source of a good bit of Solomon’s abilities. The tenth ring, however, was sent into the future by Solomon on God’s command, so Goetia wasn’t able to obtain it. That’s an important plot point for later.

Goetia waited until modern day (2018 I think?) and then used measures he had put in place to wipe out all of humanity. Not just the humans living in the present, but all of the humans who had lived in the past were killed, too. So think of it as everyone who exists, ever existed, or will exist, dead. The only survivors were the protagonists of Fate/Grand Order.

After incinerating humanity, Goetia planned to convert all of the destroyed mankind into magical energy, which he would then use to travel back in time to the planet’s creation. He wanted to start Earth all over again and establish a new humanity. However, this new humanity would be different from the old humanity; they would be unchanging, deathless organisms with no biological or emotional flaws, much like Goetia himself.

The thing is, Goetia loved humanity in his own way and wanted what he thought was best for them. It essentially goes like this: Humans know so little, while his knowledge, through his Clairvoyance, borders on omniscience. Humans turn on and hurt each other for their own self-interest, while he is capable of thinking and acting on a much wider scale. Humans have to die eventually, unlike him who’s immortal, and so everything that every single human ever did, in Goetia’s mind, was for nothing. Why would it have meaning, if their only possible option is to die eventually?

Poor things, right? He has to help them. They came out wrong. They’re so weak and hopeless, so he’s going to destroy their existence and their history and create them anew, the right way. (Aka his way.)

The way he loves humanity is belittling. No one wants help from someone who thinks of them like that. This quote is a pretty good summation of his love for humanity, borne of a legitimate case of condescending compassion.

“Do you think being forced to watch the lives of humans is an interesting task, one worthy of me!? I’m sick of it! No matter what happens, they just disappear, and only fear remains! Every human’s life is a story of hate and despair! It’s a terrible thing to watch!”

He invalidates all of humanity’s struggles, every single human’s life, because he’s not human himself. It’s not true that death means that everything that one ever does is pointless, but Goetia, being an immortal being unfamiliar with the concept of death, someone who doesn’t have to worry about an end ever coming to him, doesn’t understand that (for now). This is displayed in the multiple times he asks the protagonist and Mash, the deuteragonist, why. Why do they keep fighting, knowing that they can’t beat him? Even if they somehow could – why do they keep fighting, knowing that they’ll all die one day? Why do they keep fighting, when it’s so pointless?

But then, the basis of Goetia’s immortality is destroyed when Solomon reappears, having actually been one of the protagonist’s main allies disguised as a doctor. Remember that tenth ring that Solomon sent to the future under God’s instruction? Although Goetia has the majority of Solomon’s powers now that he possesses his corpse and the remaining nine rings, the tenth ring was something he never obtained. As it turns out, the real Solomon retrieved that ring, which was used as a catalyst to summon him, when he manifested in the modern era.

Solomon now uses the power of the gathered ten rings to perform his trump card – The Time of Parting Hath Come, I Am He Who Surrenders the World: Ars Nova – to return all of the powers God gave him back to God. In essence, he “closes the curtain” on himself, everything he has ever done, and everything he’s ever created, including Goetia. Ars Nova removes Solomon entirely from existence (rip), but it also removes Goetia’s immortality, and then the protagonist manages to land a fatal blow on him.

A little before Solomon uses Ars Nova and vanishes, he explains to Goetia why he didn’t try to change humanity the way Goetia did, despite seeing all of the past and future and consequently being exposed over and over again to how inevitable humans’ deaths were.

“That’s what you fail to understand, Goetia. Of course nothing is eternal, and pain awaits us all in the end. But that doesn’t make life a story of despair. Not at all. It’s a fight against death and separation in what precious little time one is given. It’s a repetition of meeting and parting, despite knowing there’s an end. ...Humans’ stories are dazzling, brief journeys, like the twinkling of the stars. They are stories of love and hope.”

At first, when he was still immortal, Goetia refused this logic, saying that it’s “deception” on Solomon’s part. Now, though, with Solomon having used Ars Nova and the protagonist having landed a fatal blow, Goetia is dying. For the first time, he’s confronted with the possibility of an end to his existence. He has no way, absolutely no means, to prevent his death now. Yet, when the protagonist attempts to escape the now-crumbling dimension in which Goetia made his temple, Goetia says this. (And I cut out a lot, because this is a long-ass monologue.)

“We finally understand each other. I’m not going to let you leave alive. You will die here with me. ...My dream is in ruins. Everything I did here in this temple, all the time I spent planning... All of it, for naught. [...] No matter what I do here, now, I cannot redeem my failure. Killing you will change nothing. ...This is a meaningless battle. This would have been an unthinkable choice for me before. But...

...Yes, indeed. I also have my pride. Or rather, I do now. I now understand human mentality. Now that I have a limited, mortal life, I finally understand. [...] My name is Goetia. I am the one who used humanity to destroy humanity. The one who strove for what lay beyond. A climax with no one around. ...I strove for an empty wish that none truly wanted. I am born now and I shall perish now. This battle may be without resolution or reward, but I shall put my entire being on the line to crush you. ...My sworn enemy. My hatred. My destiny. I want you to witness this. This brief moment is now my story. This brief but precious time has given the creature called Goetia true life.”

This quote is so poignant. Although Goetia attempts to pull a “taking you with me” on the protagonist, this is a rare example of the trope that is not meant to paint the villain in a final negative light, as a petty sore loser. Rather, it’s an indication that Goetia finally understands Solomon’s view on humanity, why humans strive so hard despite their lives being so short, and why the protagonist and Mash put their everything into fighting him despite knowing that they’ll inevitably die no matter what the outcome is. Humans’ time on earth is, in Goetia’s own words, “brief but precious.” He actually echoes what Solomon said about humans’ stories being “dazzling, brief journeys”, despite having so vehemently rejected it when he was immortal.

There’s no point in Goetia killing the protagonist. Just like he once believed human life to be meaningless, it should be meaningless whether he wins or not; he’ll die no matter what, and his plans are already foiled. When he was immortal, he never would have thought like this.

But Goetia isn’t immortal now. He has a finite lifespan; in fact, he’s about to die. There’s nothing he can do to save himself. Yet, he still wants to take the protagonist down with him, simply because he “has his pride.” And what’s more? Even if he loses, he wants the protagonist to witness his end. He asks to be seen, acknowledged, and remembered, despite all his work having been for nothing.

Both of those desires are human things. Goetia now knows what it’s like to be human. His case of condescending compassion is closed; he no longer looks down on humanity, because he understands them. He empathizes with them. He experiences being human.

But Dany? She never once looked down on the slaves she wanted to free. She doesn’t think, “Oh, poor things. They can’t possibly help themselves, not with how frail and simple they are. They’re so vulnerable, so delicate, so abused. Let me save them.” No.

Dany always understood what it feels like to be owned. She was abused by her brother for years, with no means to protect herself from him. Then she was sold to a man more than twice her age and made into a glorified sex slave, again with no way to defend herself. She’s already experienced something very much like what the slaves she strives to free have gone through. And even though she later gains agency and power, she never forgets what being owned, being unable to fight back, is like.

As the hours passed, the terror grew in Dany, until it was all she could do not to scream. She was afraid of the Dothraki, whose ways seemed alien and monstrous, as if they were beasts in human skins and not true men at all. She was afraid of her brother, of what he might do if she failed him. Most of all, she was afraid of what would happen tonight under the stars, when her brother gave her up to the hulking giant who sat drinking beside her with a face as still and cruel as a bronze mask.

A Game of Thrones – Daenerys II

"There speaks one who has been neither." Dany's nostrils flared. "Do you know what it is like to be sold, squire? I do. My brother sold me to Khal Drogo for the promise of a golden crown. Well, Drogo crowned him in gold, though not as he had wished, and I ... my sun-and-stars made a queen of me, but if he had been a different man, it might have been much otherwise. Do you think I have forgotten how it felt to be afraid?"

A Storm of Swords – Daenerys II

Safe. The word made Dany's eyes fill up with tears. "I want to keep you safe." Missandei was only a child. With her, she felt as if she could be a child too. "No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys … I want to protect you but … it is so hard. To be strong. I don't always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have. I am the queen … the … the …"

A Dance with Dragons – Daenerys II

More than anything else, Daenerys always understood that her brother sold her as a bargaining chip – his own sister, and he uses her like some animal hide to trade off. She understood that she could do nothing to defend herself when she was with Viserys, and later, with Drogo. If they wanted to hurt her, no one would have stood up for her, no one would have protected her, and if she tried to protect herself, she would have been punished. She was in the same position as an object; no rights and no guarantees of basic decency. Dany experienced that fear and dehumanization firsthand. She empathizes with the slaves she wants to free in the way that Goetia, only at the end of his life, empathized with humans.

That’s why she wants to abolish slavery. She went through that horror firsthand, and she doesn’t want anyone else to have to go through it again. She wants to protect people from it, because she knows how awful and disgusting and traumatic it is.

TLDR: It’s a complete and gross mischaracterization to write off Dany’s motivations for abolishing slavery as “condescending compassion”. It’s spitting on everything that she suffered from Viserys and from Drogo. It’s empathy, not condescending compassion, that motivates her.

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys defense squad #the queensguard #asoiaf meta #asoiaf quotes #my asoiaf meta #goetia #solomon #fate series meta #fate series quotes #fate series #fate grand order #fate/grand order

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papers4me · 3 years

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Fascinating concepts in Golden Kamuy Manga ( part 2)

In part 1, I listed 3 concepts that I find intriguing in Golden Kamuy ( GK), I provided short explanation of these concepts but due to issues of space couldn’t provide more examples. The previous 3 concepts were: (1). Broken men of war & death, (2) Fun dynamics & journey companion does not equal close friendships, & (3) Perspective is where characters are truly at. In total I have 9 concepts but intend to post 3 at a time. So, here we go~

4. What breaks men of war: ( emotional ties)

in my previous post, I’ve mentioned that these men of war are not fazed by death & some are even obsessed with it. goldenkamuyhunting has kindly added that they are affected by the death of those whom they’re emotionally connected to, and provided examples. very true. However, I want to look at this concept from another perspective. As much as the constant brush with death has hardened their hearts & stole chunks of their humanity, all the characters are still human. Their humanity isn’t mostly displayed in how they treat strangers/ enemies, or men on the other side, it is presented on how easily they crumble down once you press the right button: their loved ones. They have strong emotional ties that can break them down, even now after they’ve become so drenched in blood. These ties are mostly connected to ppl who are the reason of their current perspective or their past selves. Sugimoto, the ruthless, breaks down in tears at the memory of toraji, at the idea of failing Yumi, at the thought seeing Asripa become like him: a killer. These emotional ties break him into tears & self loathing frenzy. Sadistic Nikaidou not only mourn his brother, but becomes a shell of a man, delusional, erratic, addicted to drugs & hollow. Tsukishima, Tsurumi’s right hand who kills with no hesitation, becomes all sorts of mess at the thought of Igogusa: anger, tears, loss, despair, explosive rage, self-loath coupled with low self-esteem. Tsurumi himself, the man who fondly remember running thro rain of blood, was so affected by the murder of his wife & daughter to the point of not being able to restrain himself. (many examples) but the point is, I applaud the writer for not going the path of writing these characters as emotionless hard cold blooded war veterans. They have emotions & can break into sobs. You might think they’re unable to form new emotional ties, but some can, sugimoto formed healthy independent ties with shirashi! But the issue is not the new ties. The real issue is these men of war not yet dealing with the old emotional ties from their past. Those ties are eating them from the inside. The pain is still raw!

5. Excellent portrayal of unstable psyche:

Some of these men, due to the past emotional ties, have developed unstable thinking & deep troubling thought process & reasoning coupled with the ugly brutality of war. Other writers will simply write men such as Tsurumi or Ogata as mad guys, crazy & lunatic. But Noda chose a deeper more logical & intriguing approach. Their behavior shows elements of unstable & deeply trouble thinking; little boy Ogata poisoning his mother & Tsurumi’s infatuation of being a soul snatching shinigami. What they have done is unexcused & cannot be corrected. However, they are not mindless lunatics. Both characters are mysterious & rarely allowed to have inner monologue abt their true goal. Both play on different sides & have gone through some personal journey to solidify their nihilistic belief. Both goes even deeper into the depth of seemingly unstable thought process. Ogata, lacking family love, questions the concept of pity, mercy & compassion. Embarks on a journey to prove that he’s not alone in feeling no guilt over human death. That his tragic thinking is not up-normal. Other ppl exist like me. ppl other than weird Usami. Nothing is wrong with me, so father should accept me. So tragic. Yet Ogata even with this unstable thinking is portrayed as smart with analytic thinking, skilled, seemingly not swayed by manipulators & very perceptive! Same goes for Tsurumi, extremely manipulated, cunning, intelligent & sweet talker, but was shown as a loving father as he held his daughter in his hand in most of his Japanese language teaching scenes with wilk in Russia. His family’s death deeply troubled him & changed him into the monster he’s currently is. Obsessed with their bones. Not mourning them yet. His position as the story’s villain adds to this but in a very balanced way. There are more examples, such as Usami & a number of the tattooed convicts. But the point is the writer treats the characters as human, who are capable of unstable obsession & thinking, yet can display normal behavior & excellent logical thinking as well.

( btw: I’m not putting any character with the same scale as the other, or saying they’re equal or identical. They are NOT. I’m simply looking at a ting aspect from their behavior in light of the concept they share)

6. No heroes:

I duno abt you. But I don’t sense that this is a story of a bunch of alliances saving the day against the big baddie. I could be wrong tho. But this story has sth that is lacking from most stories, which is: each side have winning points as much as loosing points. Meaning each side has arguments that can lead to their logical success as much as arguments that sheds some light on the holes in their plans. Even the argument that says minority groups should have their own land with their own culture, while very just in concept, the application is quite complicated. A group of ppl with no strong army sitting on a land of rich resources won’t be left alone by other nations. It never happened in the real world, & while GK is fiction, it is safe to say that Noda is aware of this as he made Tsurimi himself point this out in ch,271. Even if the minority groups get their land, they can’t preserve their own culture if they continue their old ways without adapting into new generations & without reaching out to the outside world. Once again Trsumi pointed this out while talking abt japan itself. I duno how Noda plans to solve this. But This is not even exclusive to the Auni/Japan/Russia situation. Again, the story itself is way bigger than that. Each character is not even the hero of their own story. Asirpa’s trauma of finding herself shouldering the burden of an entire culture while struggling to have a normal selfish goal like any normal girl. Sugimoto becoming her body guard while she solves an issue that he himself isn’t that much interested in! he just wanted her to be happy. More importantly he wants her to NOT be like him. Living thro Asripa while he should be trying to figure out his own path, rather than looking for salvation thro the innocent angelic Asipra or becoming a human skinning tool to get the money for Ume’s eyes treatment when she herself never asked him to! Tsukushima, desperately trying to believe that there’s at least some bigger picture good for following Trsurmi, that all the years of blood stinky hands can mean sth, somehow, in the future, so may examples. But I love the concept of grey characters so dearly, no heroes, no angels.

Disclaimer:

I know my explanation for each argument & each concept & the examples I provide can be misunderstood. But I assure you that each time I provide an example, I’m looking at a tiny aspect of a deeply complex & intriguing character that cannot be summarized into one or two concepts & is bigger than to be compared to other characters as well. Each concept is shared by a number of characters but with different approach, level & reasoning behind it. If I want to discuss a certain character in depth, I’ll do that in a post dedicated for them alone.

Lastly, This is just a fraction of my personal opinion abt the story & characters. I’m not claiming this is how they are truly written or this how Noda intended it or even that you should share my thoughts. I just think this manga is so darn good & rich with fascinating characters!

#Golden kamuy #Saichi Sugimoto #Tokushirō Tsurumi #Tsurumi #Sugimoto #Hyakunosuke Ogata #Ogata #Hajime Tsukishima #tsukishima #nikaido #manga #Fascinated paper

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

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Cafés, Croissants, and Captured Hearts

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: When Loki stumbles into your café, he is completely enamored with you, but will he be able to conquer his fears and move towards hope and happiness? Warnings: long and fluffy A/N: This is inspired by some of the headcanons from this list by @thelokiimaginechronicles

Disclaimer: Picture not mine

Loki will never forget that fateful morning when he stumbled upon your café. The intense summer sun and accompanying smell of hot garbage made him desperate for a haven away from the bustling city. Sure, he could have stayed in the Tower for breakfast, but the constant presence of the Avengers weighed heavily on him. Even now that he was accepted, relatively anyway, he was often the brunt of the jokes at the table. Thor had assured him that the teasing was just a Midgardian form of endearment, but it irked Loki to no end. And that’s how he ended up in front of a little Paris-themed café on the corner of a New York street.

He stood staring at it for a good moment, fully aware this might be one of the little gems that few knew about. That would mean the few people stopping for breakfast or morning coffee would be sure to take note of him. This is exactly why he opted to frequent larger chains and restaurants where it was easier to blend in. On the other hand, maybe it would be just empty enough that he could stand the few hateful glares sent his way. Whatever happened, it would surely be better than the stares he was getting from being stopped too long. For a city full of people so busy with going about their own tasks, everyone sure was nosy.

Hesitantly pushing open the glass door, Loki entered and was immediately hit with the delicious aroma of pastries right out of the oven and freshly ground coffee. Then his eyes locked with yours, which, he thought, were perhaps the most intelligent, kind, and radiant ones he’d ever seen. The few other patrons littering the numerous tables paid him little mind, more interested in their phones and the morning news playing on the television. He cringed slightly, thinking of how, not too long ago, they would have been looking with terror at his face on the screens. It made him even more thankful that they had indeed not cared about one more body in the room.

You, however, were an entirely different story. You had yet to look away from him and had obvious interest displayed on your face. It made sense, he supposed, as you obviously worked here. It was your job to care about the customers. There was nothing more to it, he reassured himself. As he approached the counter where you were, he held his breath, waiting for recognition to dawn on your face, and for you to yell at him to get out. Or worse still, cower in fear. A younger version of himself would have preferred the latter, but now it made him feel disgusting. Anger he could deal with, but the fact that someone feared a person as pitiful and worthless as he thought himself, only served to make him more anxious.

Your face remained unchanged as he approached, though. If anything, your smile got brighter, which was a novel thing for someone like Loki. He just chalked it up to good customer service. Desperate to avoid looking at you, lest you finally figure out who he was, Loki looked down at the glass case displaying all the baked goods. He was so nervous that he almost walked out, but the growl in his stomach kept his feet rooted where they were.

“What can I get you, sir?” you said.

Your melodic voice brought Loki’s gaze back to your face. Standing this close to you, Loki realized that it wasn’t just your eyes. No. All of you was beautiful. He felt his heart beat faster in his chest, but did his best to convince himself it was just nerves brought about by the unfamiliar setting. It was silly, he knew, that a god as powerful as himself should act like this. Sure, he put on a good act, but deep down he was ashamed of what he’d done. He thought it futile to care what others thought when he would only ever be viewed as a monster, but he couldn’t help the feeling that he was embarrassing himself in front of you. Heck, he hadn’t even answered your question yet. And he realized he was staring at you. You seemed to get nervous then and started fidgeting while waiting for his reply.

“I’m uncertain. What would you recommend?”

He internally cheered for making a coherent statement. Then curiosity captured him as he saw excitement spark behind your eyes.

“Well, if you’re interested in coffee, I peg you for a dark roast hazelnut kind of guy. And our bestseller is without a doubt the blueberry crumb donut.” You paused a moment as if weighing your chances before continuing, “But if you’re in the mood for something exciting, I suggest trying our fig and raspberry croissants.”

Loki was shocked to hear the last recommendation leave your mouth. It was as if you somehow knew what his favorite fruits were. You must have misread the look on his face, though, because you started rambling about how he, in no way, had to go with that and almost recited your whole menu before he interrupted you.

“No,” he said somewhat harshly, causing you to shut your mouth. He made sure to speak in a gentler tone as he continued, “What I mean is, I would love to try one.”

The bright smile immediately returned to your face. Though he was more of a tea person, he ordered the coffee you had recommended, too, in the hopes your grin would get even wider. You quickly made up his order and then busied yourself with something else as he sat down. You did your best to not look at him as he unwrapped the flaky pastry, but he noticed the glances you kept stealing. A most curious creature, he thought as he bit into it. His eyes immediately closed in pure bliss. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. Somehow, it was even better than the delicacies on Asgard. When his eyes popped open, you were no longer trying to avert your gaze but, rather, were staring at him with wide-eyes.

Before either of you could say anything, another customer came in. Loki finished eating while you prepared their order. The croissant was flaky, but not to the point where it completely fell apart in his hands. The combination of the figs and raspberries in the filling created a sweet sensation with a subtle, underlying tartness. Not to mention the light glaze on top that tasted like heaven on your tongue. In other words, it was perfect.

He was still sipping on his coffee when you finished serving the customer, only for another to walk in. The cup was nearly empty now, but for some reason Loki stayed where he was. He tried to reason it out. It was simply that he didn’t much like coffee but didn’t want to seem rude by leaving some. Thus, it was only natural that he stayed and finished the whole thing. Yes, that must still be the reason why he was still sitting there. It had nothing to do with the fact that your eyes had pulled him in and had yet to let go, despite the fact that they were no longer looking his way.

Soon, the café emptied as the early morning rush ended, leaving the god alone with you. He’d almost convinced himself it was silly to stay when you walked up to him.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No. But there is something I simply must tell you,” he said, gesturing at the seat across from him.

You sat down, curiosity clear on all your features. He didn’t know what exactly it was about you that made him feel so weak in the knees. A book he’d read a while ago came to mind. The two characters set eyes upon each other and instantly fell in love. However, Loki wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight. But attraction? Perhaps.

“That croissant you recommended,” he said as apprehension filled your eyes, “was delicious beyond what words can describe.”

Once again, you smiled at his words. It seemed to Loki that, sometime in the past twenty minutes, it became his goal to keep that smile on your face.

“Really?” you gasped. “See, it was a recipe of my own invention, and I hadn’t gotten anyone to try it. Sorry that I used you as a guinea pig, though.”

Loki giggled at that. An honest to goodness giggle from the God of Mischief. He couldn’t help but wonder what spell you’d cast that bewitched him so.

“It’s quite alright. In fact, you used two of my favorite fruits. They’re right up there with pears.”

“You don’t say. Maybe I could convince you to try my spiced pear muffins sometime.”

After that, the two of you got to talking. And of course that led to you bringing more original recipes for Loki to try. From macarons to biscuits to pies, everything you brought him was delicious. And Loki enjoyed your company even more than eating the baked goods. When the thought finally occurred to you to introduce yourself, Loki knew he had to do the same. So, at the risk of ruining this haven he found, he gave you his name. Your eyes widened for a second in recognition, but not in horror as he expected.

“You mean, you’re the Loki of Asgard? As in, like, I’m sitting with an Avenger right now?” you asked with a shocked tone.

It was true, he supposed, that he was an Avenger. No one ever really referred to him as such, but he technically was a member of the team. He tried to tell you that, no, he wasn’t really a superhero or anything, but you insisted. You said that you saw on the news how he was protecting a group of children while the team was fighting some villain or another. It was a comforting thought to him that the producers hadn’t cut that out completely. A spark of hope ignited in his chest that maybe one day the rest of the world would notice his heroic actions, too. He felt it odd that this mortal before him could give him such a positive outlook for the future.

There were times when you had to get up and tend to the customers that wandered in and out throughout the day. You were by no means the most popular place in town, but you did well enough. Loki took the time while you were distracted to survey the rest of the café and, when you weren’t looking, you. At some point his eyes rested on a framed picture of a small child with an old lady.

“That’s me with my grand-mère when I was younger,” you suddenly said, coming up behind him.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you laughed. “After all, I have it out for everyone to see.”

“Well, it’s a lovely photo.”

You hummed in content for a second, obviously thinking back to when the picture was taken. “She passed away recently,” you finally said. “She lived her whole life in France—Paris, to be exact. Actually, the café is named after her. It’d be nice to open one in her home city one day. This may be stupid, but I think I’d feel closer to her. That’s not exactly in my budget right now, though. And you probably didn’t want to hear all that,” you finished with a nervous laugh.

“On the contrary, I’d like to know more.”

And so, you told Loki about anything and everything in between. And when you were done, you insisted it was his turn. He agreed to your requests, so long as he got to try some more of your food. He also admitted to you that he preferred tea and would love to try one of your blends. You obliged, seeing as you needed a second opinion on some of the recipes.

At some point, the sugar from all the sweets got to Loki, so you fetched some fresh fruit for him. Remembering that he liked raspberries, you grabbed a bowl and brought it out. As he ate and told you tales of Asgard, you felt your eyes drift toward his lips, stained red from the berries. Cheesy as it may be, you gently wiped away some juice from around his mouth. There was something magnetic between the two of you in that moment. He brought his hand to rest upon yours, which was still lightly placed on his cheek. Loki felt himself leaning closer to your lips, feeling your gaze on his own. But since life isn’t a fairytale, in the moments before you met in a kiss, a customer walked in. You hurriedly stood up to help them, almost knocking over your chair in the process.

By the time you returned to Loki again, he’d realized how late it had gotten. He’d spent the whole day in your company. And, for the first time in a long time, he’d enjoyed himself. Glancing at his phone, he saw countless texts from the Avengers demanding to know where he was since he was still on probation, so to speak. At least his brother’s messages had a hint of concern to them.

“I’m afraid, my dear, that I must take my leave.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. It was really nice meeting you.”

You looked as if you wanted to say something else but, in the end, decided better of it. He, too, had more words he wished to say, but didn’t know how to properly express them.

Back at the Tower, Loki indulged in Midgardian wine. Frustratingly, he never could get drunk off it, but it helped take the edge off. And right now his mind was a tornado of thoughts. Thoughts of you. Your hair. Your smile. Your voice. Your eyes. Oh god, your eyes. Never again would he see something as beautiful as you. In that moment, he made up his mind; he had to see you again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Loki prepared to visit your café once more. He put even more effort than normal into his appearance. It had occurred to Loki sometime last night that he had feelings for you. Somehow, in the short amount of time that he knew you, you had captured his heart. A weakness, he knew, but now that he’d admitted it, he couldn’t let you go. That meant he’d have to figure out the Midgardian way of courting. A question for his brother, he supposed. Luckily, he ran into said person on his way to the elevator.

“Greetings, brother,” Thor’s voice boomed as they stepped in. “Joining us this morning for breakfast, I see.”

“Actually no, I’m not.”

“Listen, if it were up to me, you could go out. You’ve more than proven yourself,” he said, thinking back to the times when Loki had saved his life on missions. “It’s just that the others aren’t as convinced.”

“Well, quite frankly, I don’t care. I want scones,” he lied, “so I’m going to have some. I don’t suppose you’ll be serving scones at this breakfast, now will you?”

“Well, no. But rest assured, Bruce’s frittata is delicious.”

“Did I say I wanted a frittata? No, no, I did not. I’m craving scones, so scones I will have.”

“But-”

“Scones, you idiot!” Loki snapped, losing his cool demeanor.

Of course, it was at that moment the elevator doors opened, so that the rest of the team could hear his outburst. Loki sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He grabbed Thor by the arm and pulled him aside, where he begrudgingly told him the truth. Thor was ecstatic and let Loki go, assuring him that he’d cover for him. Before they parted, he offered Loki the most typical advice of “be yourself”. It made Loki want to gag.

Soon enough, he found himself back in front of the little corner of heaven that is your café. He paced back and forth while running a hand through his hair. Maybe it was presumptuous of him to think you’d want to see him again. What if he’d read the signs wrong? What if you were already seeing someone else? What if he was about to make a fool of himself? He wanted to run away. Loki was no coward, though, so he stepped into the warm dining room, looking a lot more confident than he felt.

The second your eyes locked on his, you broke out into that smile he loved so much. You greeted him like an old friend as a warmth spread through his usually cold body. Without him asking you to, you presented him with another croissant, this time with a pear and honey tea instead of coffee. You shyly looked away as a smile of his own graced his face. This was his chance. All he had to do was ask you out. Simple.

“(Y/n), I just wanted to say,” he began but trailed off, the words stuck in his throat.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For the tea. I’m surprised you remembered.”

“Oh, sure. It was no problem. Just let me know if you need anything else. But don’t go expecting free samples every day.”

You laughed then, drawing his eyes to your lips. He remembered yesterday and how you’d almost kissed. Still, he couldn’t muster the courage to say what he truly wanted to. Once he finished eating, he contemplated spending the day with you again but didn’t think he could stand to keep failing at asking you out. He waved goodbye to you and walked to the door, when suddenly your voice called out to him from across the room, stopping him in his tracks.

“Loki?” you said. “Do you maybe want to go get a drink or something?”

“That, my dear,” he replied, “would be the best treat of all.”

You two shared another warm smile and made arrangements before he left. As he made his way back to the Tower, he was elated and couldn’t believe his good fortune. Maybe life was a fairytale, after all.

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki oneshot #loki fluff #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #thor #thor odinson #fluff #marvel #mcu #mcu au #reader insert #gender netural reader #loki pov #second person

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ac3id · 4 years

Text

Selfish [ii/iii]

Pairings: Yandere!Miruko ( Usagiyama Rumi ) x fem!reader

Warnings: y/n's life goes📉,alcohol consumption, harassment, uses of aphrodisiacs, dom!Rumi consensual smut

[a/n:dm us if you want to be added or removed from our taglist]

Summary: You are satisfied with your life, as a successful lawyer, you’re rich and powerful. Your life never boring as you often visit foreign countries with your friends, of course until you meet Miruko the Rabbit Hero one day in the court. A conflict between your boss and her end in the court and pique her interest when you manage to win the case. Miruko is selfish, and she must have you, she’ll not stop until she has you. She may along the way ruin your life so the only person you have is her. Miruko really doesn't care, she’s selfish.

word count: 2.9k

part i, ii, iii

masterlist

The frantic ringing of your cell phone woke you up from your sleep.You frowned thinking it was your alarm clock waking you up for another tiring day. You brought the device to your face and squinted as the bright light illuminated the darkroom and stung your eyes.

"What?" you said as you recognized the caller I.D, it displayed your boss's name and you groaned. Picking up the call you placed it to your ear and immediately regretted it.

"L/N," he snarled into the phone and you almost flinched. Your mind started going about all the reasons for him to be calling you at this hour.

Did he found out about me slacking? In the end, you couldn't find a reason.

"Yes? Sir?" you ask, "Don't play innocent now! Why did you do it? Do you realize what could have happened if the Mayor had died? How much did they pay you?" he screamed into the phone and your face paled.

"What do you mean? I-" "Oh! Don't start now!!" he cut you off, sweat was rolling from your forehead despite the chillness of the air conditioning. You felt sick. An urge to throw up your dinner propelled you. Your boss continued to explain how you had leaked confidential information about the Mayor's whereabouts for a secret meeting. Your firm was the only one who had this information, it was only given to a trusted few- including you.

Your boss informed that a few villains had attacked the Mayor and when interrogated about how they knew about the meeting, they answered that a woman by 'Y/N L/N' had told them about it. This was, obviously, false. The night the villains reported about meeting with you- you were with Neo (more like Miruko) at the gala. It could not have been you.

Confident, you blurt out your response. "It was not me! I was with Neo on Saturday night. The annual Pro-Hero meet. I was with him the entire time! I'm being set up!" there was a pause from his side and you hear a sigh.

"That must be true, Y/N." He called you by your name, finally. "I trust you, you would never do this to us. There will an inspection. You'll be called anytime now. I called to warn you. I have known you for five years! There is no way it was you! Do you have any ideas about who could be setting you up?"

His voice was softer as he spoke and a wave of relief hit you. "I don't know, sir. Could be anyone who does not like me, could also be someone from the firm!" you exclaimed, "You're correct. Listen, Y/N, you'll be fine. We will get you out of here, okay?" he continued and both of you talked about the potential suspects for about ten minutes and ended the call.

Sleep came scarcely it felt as if you had only closed your eyes for ten minutes and the birds had started chirping welcoming a new day. You got up on your bed and palmed your temples the anxiety from the night started to build up again. You ran to the washroom as you hovered over the toilet seat and emptied your stomach vomiting. You felt sick. Even though you knew that you weren't at fault the nervousness of getting sued still built up bad.

You started cleaning up and heard your phone ring. You knew why they had called.

"Hello? Y/N L/N?" a feminine voice greeted you, "Yes, that's me, good morning." you greeted despite how bitter your mouth felt. "Good morning to you too. Can you come down to the station ASAP? It's for a case." she asked. "It's for a case?"

"I cannot disclose the details via call, we will tell you as soon as you arrive, good day." she hung up the call and you scoffed, you continued with your routine and made your way down to the station.

They sat you down in an integration room, you had been here before but this time it was different. You were not with client this time.

"Hello, L/N," It was Lee David, the bastard hated you. All the time at trial, the suspect he brought back was proven not guilty due to your courtesy. Seeing you sitting down, minutes away from getting sued brought him great satisfaction.

"Hello, Mr.Lee," you greeted him with a bitchy smile which he returned. "You look like shit." You continued signaling to his messy hair and sleep-deprived eyes. "What's with the new hair? Did you shed your skin, you snake?" he glared at you and you laughed. "That was a very bad one Mr.Lee,"

"Enough, let's get down to business." Another inspector came they asked you questions and you answered truthfully.

Maybe it was that luck was not on your hand that day because, in the end, you were charged with breach of contract and had to pay your entire life's worth to the Government.

How did this happen? When the detectives called Neo to confirm your alibi, he confessed that you did attend the gala with him but the entire night he did not know your whereabouts. That was no lie, you were with Miruko. But you couldn't have disclosed that or what the two of you were doing together. So, you sat and watched as your whole life fell apart.

Every day became harder after your fall. Your friends 'left', your firm fired you. You couldn't even afford your apartment anymore! You lived with a college friend who still cared about, drank away all your worries. You had reached the rock bottom. Nothing could have been worse than this.

Oh boy, you were wrong.

It was another one of those nights were you drank away your worries and down at a park thinking about better days. It was late, you did not notice the thugs who were surrounding you until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You quickly turned back to be greeted with an ugly face smiling down at you.

"It's late miss, why don't you come with us? We will take care of you. It's quite dangerous for women like yourself to be alone now, right?"

He turned to his friends behind him and started giggling, your blood grew cold as his grip tightened on your shoulder.

"No, I am fine." You tried swatting his hand away but it wouldn't budge, "C'mon now, princess. Come with us! we'll show ya' a great time."

"What's going on over there?" A familiar voice calls out and everyone whips their heads to the source. Miruko stands, glaring at the men and you feel the leader's grip fall from your shoulder. She was in her joggers, probably out on a run.

They knew better than to mess with Miruko.

"Hey, you there? Are you okay?" Miruko runs up to where you were sitting, you stand up as she approaches. A small gasp leaves her when she recognizes you.

"Y/N," she starts, "How are you- I heard what happened and I can not help but blame my-"

"Thanks for scaring those guys off."

Maybe it was Miruko fault, maybe it was not. You did not care anymore.

"Y/N," she called out sternly trying to look at your face but you turned away. There was a pause, silence, and then she placed two fingers under your chin and pulled your face to face her. She wore a soft expression which made you groan internally. You didn't need her pity.

"Listen,-" "It's not your fault!" you exclaimed before she could start.

"Please don't." Miruko sighed as she let go of your face, "Where are you going to stay tonight?" she asked.

"At my friend's place," "How far is it from here?"

"An hour." Miruko frowned, "Stay over at mine, you're in no shape to travel alone for an hour." she says pointing out to your red cheeks still intoxicated. She was right if you left now there was no guarantee you wouldn't run into weirdos from before.

"Fine." You say as you follow Miruko.

Miruko's place wasn't far. She lived in a gated community very much like you did before your life went upside down. You followed her into the kitchen where she put down a glass of water for you.

"It's late, you should sleep. I'll be arranging the guest room. Just come upstairs after you've...drank the water.." It was an awkward sentence to say.

You followed her instructions as you gulped the water slightly cringing at the taste. You walked up the penthouse and saw Miruko standing in front of the guest room scrolling through her phone. She turned to you as she saw you approach her, "I have kept some comfortable clothes you can sleep in," she said scanning your body you almost thought she was checking you out (she was) until you realized you were wearing jeans. "Yeah, um, thank you again. Miruko."

"Rumi, call me Rumi, Y/N."

"Right, Rumi."

You wished her goodnight and changed out of your clothes into the large shirt and shorts she had presented out for you. You got into the bed, switched off the lights, and drifted off to sleep. After what felt like minutes you were awoken again.

"Hot," you whispered. You felt hot all over your body, you discarded yourself of the large shirt and shorts. Left in a spaghetti top and your panties you kicked your blanket and tried to go back to sleep but your mind felt hazy.

You felt your clit throb with need, you couldn't take it anymore.

You open the door to Miruko's bedroom. You feel yourself get wetter when you find sleeping on her bed, glowing under the moonlight.

You climb on her bed and make your way to straddle her left thigh

You tried to relax your breathing as you find yourself shamelessly grinding on her thigh, trying desperately to get yourself off and make the pain go away. This was embarrassing

you leaned down to softly kiss her neck, you let your hand go under her robe, tracing her abs, your breath hot against her neck. You feel her stir under you she slowly opens her eyes. Her red eyes ran over your body taking in your desperate figure. You panties wet, clinging to your cunt and nipples hard under the thin tank top you wore. You realize she had woken up and stopped grinding against her, embarrassed you look away from her bringing your trembling fingers from her body,

"I am sorry, I don't know wh-"

"Continue."

"What?" you were confused, your brows knit together as you look back at Miruko. Her face is stern, she is looking up at you with a glare, her gaze makes your clit throb and you try your best to not act on instinct.

"I said." she pauses and pushes her leg harder between your legs, applying pressure on your clit and you let out a soft moan.

"Continue, fuck yourself. Give me a show."

her voice was deeper, it sent shivers down your spine. Your face heated up as you started grinding yourself against her thigh again small whimpers escaping.

Under you, Miruko smirked, the aphrodisiac she had given you had worked.

She lets out the quietest moan as she watched you fuck yourself on her thigh. Her gaze so intense you felt the tips of your ears burning.

You brush your lips against hers, Miroku kisses you passionately, gently, softly, wanting to be as tender with you as possible. Your lips molding perfectly together. You bite her bottom lip softly, trailing kisses down her neck, tugging on the ends of her hair slightly to make her head go back, allowing you more access.

"So impatient today, huh?" she purred, her hand resting on your hip, urging you to go on. You panted in response, clutching her leg between your thighs

A soft whimper escapes from you making her grip tighten on your hip, definitely leaving bruises, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. The flimsy material of your panties allows you to feel the defined muscles of her thigh as your clit grounds into it.

You pull away from her neck to grind down harder. she can feel your arousal seeping to her thigh.

You began leaving kisses down the valley of her toned breasts, slowly lapping your tongue and sucking on the skin around her nipples. You attach your lips to her right nipple, rolling your tongue on the bud and sucking harshly as you continued to grind yourself against her. You shivered at the stimulation your clit received from the friction of her muscles, feeling your arousal dampening the cotton of your panties, her head went back a moan escaping her lips.

You whimpered, the noise fueling you on moving your hips faster. Miruko looked up at you in awe, there was something so needy about you as you rode her thigh, your pleas, and whines, making her clit throb with arousal.

You place your arms over her shoulders and begins to rock you back and forth on her thigh, gently encouraging you with soft strokes to your skin.

You close your eyes, head rolling back as your hips stutter, the wet soft slapping of your skin against hers bringing you much closer to your climax.

Miruko piercing eyes never left your body. Her grip on your waist getting tighter, "Go harder, sugar. I wanna see you cum." You nodded and quickened your pace.

Your grip tightens on her shoulders as you prepared yourself for the intense wave of pleasure.

Within seconds, an orgasm washed over you like a wave. You continued to ride it out grinding yourself on her thigh. Your grinding slowing down and eventually coming to a stop. Both of you were panting. You looked down to see the mess you made on her thigh.

''Mommy, p-please take care of me'' you sobbed, tears pricking around the corner your eyes. The way you were addressing turned her on. You were so desperate.

''It hurts'' your voice cracked which broke Miruko's heart she underestimated the dose of the drugs she had given you.

"Is my pretty girl horny?" you sobbed in response making her move your panties to the side, letting her finger move up your folds collecting your arousal. She groaned softly. "Fuck I've barely touched you, sugar and you're already soaked."

"I-I want m-more." it was nothing more than a mere whisper with a sob.

She discards your drenched panties and strips off her robe and gently lays you onto your back, lining your cunt up to hers. She looks up at you, a smile playing around her lips. The look on her face made you drool further for her, your thighs rubbing together in an attempt to soothe your intense heat

You lie pliantly beneath her, your hair splayed beneath her, making you look angelic.

"you ready, sugar?" she asked, gazing at you as she straddled your waist. you nodded jolts of pleasure running up your spine in anticipation.

She grinds her pussy down onto yours, she chokes out a moan, her eyes rolling back as your juices intermingle.

Your clits rubbed against each other. You moaning softly underneath her drove her wild. It fueled her desire, causing her to grip your hips and grind into you harder, panting wildly pressing you further into her mattress. Every thrust against your sensitive cunt an electric charge shoots through your body.

Your moans are loud and obscene as your wet pussy rubs over hers. "Oh, yeah, mommy! Harder! Right there, fuck!" you screamed, throwing you head back and moaning.

"Shit," she whispered and growled, "Like that, sugar?"

"Ah, fuck, right there," you moan, gripping the sheets beneath you. Miroku pants, reveling in the sight beneath her; your spread legs in between hers, your hardened nipples and back arching at the slightest movements.

"My pretty girl. You look so cute like this," she grinds her cunt against yours faster, her tits bounce with every thrust. The pitch of her moans growing higher. Both of your moans fill the room. You tremble beneath her as she fastens her pace again

You pull her in close, your lips claiming hers in a hot kiss. You explored every part of Miruko's mouth, feeling her soft lips against yours. you bit her bottom lip as the erotic and lewd noises of your cunts rubbing against each other fill your ears.

"Ahhh -fuck-mommy," you scream in between kisses. she pulls away to look at you moaning and whining. she moved a few strands of loose hair, biting her lip and putting her hands on either side of your head to help her increase her pace.

You both groan out, your hands clasping her arm as she grinds forward quicker and harder.

"Dirty girl... feels so fucking good," she breathes out, increasing her pace to a medium as she throws her head back in ecstasy.

"shit... I'm close mommy, so close," you whimper, your lips parted as her pace quickens. her head is slightly thrown back, moaning into oblivion as her orgasm comes closer. "God, cum for me, sugar," she groans, her grip on your leg getting tighter.

Your back arches one last time before your orgasm rolls like powerful waves through your body, making you tremble beneath Miruko's frame.

"You did so well for me, my precious girl. Always so good for me."

her hands find your hips and her brows scrunch together and her lips opening with soft pants. Riding her orgasm as you tremble with the aftershocks of yours.

Honestly, she just wanted you to cum again. You looked so hot while doing so, she wanted to see you doing it — she wanted to see your pretty face in pleasure, and your eyes rolled back. she wanted to hear you moan while watching you do it, too.

"Thank you," you murmur, your lips just barely brushing against hers. you sigh heavily, chest heaving as she kisses you back.

"It’s all right."

You slump down next to Miruko and drift off, Miruko watches you sleep as she smiles to herself. Her plan had worked.

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pandoraborn · 3 years

Text

CotB deleted scene 2

Characters: c!Tommy, c!Wilbur Word count: 1755 words Content: drugging mention, death mention, abuse mention, violence, wilbur and tommy have a conversation,

-----

[setting: cabin.]

It’d been a few hours since Ranboo left for the SMP to meet with Tubbo. Tommy is anxious. He hates that he’s left alone with two unconscious men, and the silence seems to endlessly stretch out, morphing into some twisted darkness. The potions of weakness he’d used on Wilbur and Dream give no indication as to when they’ll wear off, and he’s sat twiddling his thumbs, trying to ignore the slow passage of time. It’s crawling by too slowly, and yet too quickly all the same; Ranboo’s presence right now would be most welcome. It’d at least help Tommy feel like he’s not sitting in some cold, familiar void. The potions are working enough that the men aren’t stirring, and hopefully won’t for awhile yet.

Tommy hopes they’re doing the right thing.

He can already imagine the angered reactions from Wilbur and Dream when they come to. He can already hear them yelling, and he’s shrinking back into himself, already working himself into a panic. He’s so used to people yelling at him, he’s way too used to people using him as their verbal punching bag; the imagined reactions probably wouldn’t be too far from reality.

Tommy sits by Wilbur’s bedside, leaning against it and curling his fingers into the fabric of the sheets, staring at Wilbur’s face. Even in sleep, Wilbur looks stressed. He doesn’t seem to rest anymore, what with him always thinking and moving and planning. Even now, Tommy can’t piece together the full plan, even though he’s been given enough information to know exactly what they’re doing. This entire situation is an enigma, and Tommy can’t bring himself to hate it or them as much as he knows he should.

Even though Wilbur’s lips are curled downward, his brow scrunched, and wrinkles are on display for Tommy to count, he still pities Wilbur more than himself. Sure, Tommy had been through hell, but he can’t imagine the hardships Wilbur’s been through in the past, and even recently.

It’s enough that his own anxiety fades just slightly. He can sympathize with the hell Wilbur’s been through, and the group even recently learned that Wilbur had spent years in whatever limbo he’d been stuck in. Years in that world, months in this one. It’s a hard concept for Tommy to wrap his mind around, but he can’t let it go either. It’s hard to imagine being stuck for years in a prison of death, unable to leave or rest. His own two months pale in comparison. Somehow, his concern for Wilbur always seems to outweigh everything else. Where Tommy wants to blame him for everything, he can’t, because Wilbur doesn’t deserve all the blame.

Carefully, Tommy lifts a trembling hand to brush a few curls out of Wilbur’s face. The actions seems to bring a tiny bit of relief to the man; his face relaxes. Tommy exhales softly before pulling his hand away.

“Wil?” Tommy tilts his head to the side as he whispers the name, wanting to gauge how responsive Wilbur is. When there’s nothing from Wilbur, Tommy slumps against the bed and closes his eyes, taking a moment to listen to the man breathe.

“Wil, I feel like I need someone to tell me it’s going to be okay. I’m too anxious and shit for all of this, I’m scared of getting yelled at and I’m scared of getting hurt. Part of me is even scared of you, or your anger, I don’t know anymore. I still don’t get it, man, no matter how many times all of you explain it to me.”

His hand finds Wilbur’s, and Tommy tugs it out from under the blanket. “Everything and everyone is fucked, and I’m stuck in the middle, again. I just want to find some sort of peace, man. I’m tired, and you’re one of the few people I feel like I can trust anymore.” He isn’t sure he means that, but he wants Wilbur to hear it anyway.

“I know.”

Tommy jumps at the spoken words. Eyes flying open, he stares at Wilbur, who’s staring sleepily at him. “You’re not supposed to be awake,” Tommy says flatly. He considers yanking his hand back, but decidedly leaves it there; Wilbur’s hand is warm and it feels nice.

“You think drugging me was going to work all night? Nice trick Tommy, but I’m stronger than one half-assed potion.” Wilbur scoffs as he shifts his position. He doesn’t pull his hand from Tommy’s though, rather, he gives it a squeeze. “If you’re tired, why don’t you rest? I can make room on the bed.”

“You go back to sleep,” counters Tommy. “I’m not tired.”

“Come here.” Wilbur scoots away from the edge of his cot, leaving a tiny amount of room. Tommy takes advantage of it, settling in. He relaxes when Wilbur drapes the blanket over him, as well, before wrapping his arms around Tommy to keep him in place. Amazingly, this seems to free Tommy from any anxiety as well.

“Toms, listen. Sometimes we all do stupid shit. You do stupid shit, like this half-assed plan you and Ranboo made up.” Wilbur snorts. “It might’ve worked on Dream, but I’m not him. I’m still recovering from death, drugs don’t have the same effect on me. For example, I’m awake when I know I shouldn’t be.”

“You’re getting off track,” Tommy mutters. “I thought you were going to give me some grand speech about something, I don’t know.”

“I’m getting to that.” Wilbur pats Tommy on the cheek. “You say you trust me, but you really don’t, do you?”

“Should I?” Tommy rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean that honestly. Because I feel like I shouldn’t what with you being some evil mastermind and teaming with Dream, and the dragon, and even Ranboo, and I don’t know anymore. On the other hand, you’re alive, and you haven’t...”

“I haven’t actually hurt you,” Wilbur finishes. “Am I really some evil mastermind in your head?” He sounds more amused, rather than irritated. “I think I would prefer evil scientist rather than some high end villain. I’m not serious enough for that.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely evil scientist material.” Tommy nods. “I dunno. You scare me though. When you first came back, you were terrifying.”

“I came back to life to see you covered in blood. You had bruises and cuts all over you, child. How else was I supposed to react?”

“Uh, not threaten Dream? Or at least, do it far, far away from me so I didn’t have to see you act like that?”

Wilbur presses his hand to Tommy’s face. “You are so full of shit, Child. We were trapped in a tiny hot box, with lava. Where on earth would you have gone to hide? The tiny cube of water? Friendly reminder that the water was also boiling, and had you jumped in, you would’ve ended up with burns all over you, on top of what Dream had already d-”

“Stop, stop!” Tommy shoves at Wilbur, falling off the bed in the process. “I don’t want to hear anymore! I already know, Wilbur! He hurt me again. Just like he always has!” He remains on the ground, rolling onto his stomach to hide his face. “I hated everyone for letting it happen.” It’s embarrassing to have a tantrum like this. Tommy expects Wilbur to laugh at him or mock him. There’s a silence at first, lasting a few agonizingly long seconds.

“I know. Tommy, had I been there, I would have protected you. I would have done everything in my power to prevent Dream from hurting you. Unfortunately, I was helpless.” Tommy can feel Wilbur rubbing his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. Wilbur doesn’t sound like he’s laughing, bringing another measure of relief. Maybe Wilbur actually does care.

“Why do I not believe you were that helpless?”

“Ranboo tried to ask for my help once,” Wilbur confesses. “He found a way to communicate with me, months ago. I just told him to keep trusting Dream, because I didn’t have the power to do anything more.”

“Wait.” Tommy sits up. “You’re going to have to explain that to me. Ranboo talked to you, not Ghostbur. How?”

Wilbur nods. “It was a spell, I don’t know what kind of spell, but it worked all the same. The world is full of ancient magics, and he is enderman. Anyway, he wanted answers, he wanted me to do something. But what use is a dead man?”

“Dream isn’t trustworthy,” Tommy grumbles, grabbing at the bed. He doesn’t want to talk about magic anymore. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, but how does one stop their mouth from running? Besides, Wilbur is gifting him with new information and perspectives he hadn’t considered before, and it’s helping a lot more than he wants to admit.

“Deep down inside, he’s a slightly better person than we know,” Wilbur says gently. He helps Tommy back onto the bed, then begins playing with his hair. Tommy melts at the attention. “Better in the sense that he knows what he’s doing now. He’s an awful person where you’re concerned, though. I know you’d rather he wasn’t here, but we’re all stuck with him. If not for him, I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish as much as I did, neither would Ranboo. He is helping us get somewhere.”

“Part of me wants to forgive him,” Tommy admits. “But I don’t know if that’s pressure from you two, or just me wanting to put it all behind us for the sake of this new future you all want. Maybe at the end of the day I don’t even care, I want an end too. I’m tired, and sleep doesn’t fix it.”

“I know. I have been watching you, Toms, before I was resurrected. I know what hell you’ve been through, and I wish I could’ve done something about it. I’m here now though, and I’m not letting anyone hurt you again, not even myself. You deserve better, and you deserve a break from the world at large. Just tell me when and how, and I will do everything I can to grant you that. Anything, for you.”

“Just... promise me when this is over, that we’ll still be together. Me, you, Ranboo...even Dream, I guess. As fucked up as we all are, we’re still a family.” Why is that thought in his mind? When the words are out of his mouth though, Tommy knows it’s true. He’s too attached to Wilbur and Ranboo anymore, and even Dream has a place among them, even if it’s mostly working with Wil and sticking with Ranboo. Tommy would have to admit that without someone to throw biting insults at, his life would feel a little more empty.

“Of course.” Wilbur grins. “None of us are getting left behind again. Like you said, we’re a family, and we’re going to remain as such. It’ll all be okay, I promise you. And if I break my promises, I give you permission to beat me up for it.”

“Good.” Tommy sighs quietly. “Sorry about... you know.”

“Drugging me? I’m not even mad, really. It’s the first actual rest I’ve gotten. It’ll be Dream you have to argue with, but I don’t think he’ll mind all that much either. He’s been tired lately.”

Tommy shrugs, figuring the conversation can end here. He’s feeling sleepy, and he can see the same expression on Wilbur’s face. Maybe a small nap wouldn’t hurt either of them. “I don’t say this often or at all, but.” he trails off again, biting on his tongue. He feels it, Tommy knows what he’s feeling. The surge of emotion is far too strong to ignore, it’s just something he can’t bring himself to actually say.

Wilbur seems to know what it is though. His grip around Tommy tightens, and he pulls Tommy closer.

“I know what you’re feeling, Toms. I know you’re struggling with everything, but I’m going to make it all right for you. You don’t have to trust me completely, you can trust Ranboo and Ranboo only, but I’m here now, and I’m not leaving you alone again.”

Wilbur cards his fingers through Tommy’s hair again; the teen relaxes into the man’s side, burrowing under the blankets as much as he can to get comfortable. Wilbur continues speaking. “And you don’t have to say anything more, either, Tommy. I love you too.”

#dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #cruelty of the beast deleted scenes #cotb deleted scene 2 #c!tommy #tommyinnit #c!wilbur #wilbur soot #tommy and wilbur have a long conversation #mention of drugging #mention of abuse #violence #long post #miishae writes #writer's note: this was harder to write than i anticipated #but i'm happy with it now

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madasthesea · 4 years

Text

Love, hate on

By @madasthesea for @the-dust-of-stars

Part of the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: G

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Original Female Villain, Original Male Villains

Summary: She’d planned for this moment for two years, seven months, and eighteen days: As she’d stood above her daughter’s freshly dug grave, she’d decided that Tony Stark would die by her hand. And now was her moment.

She had only intended to grab Stark, tell him what he’d done that merited the punishment she was going to give, and kill him fast before anyone started looking. But here was this kid, an act of providence.

She didn’t have to tell Stark now, she could show him. She could make him suffer like she’d suffered, make him pay for his crimes. An eye for an eye, a child for a child.

Mara Shepherd crouched silently in the back of a gray van, eyes fixed on the surveillance footage playing on the little laptop screen in front of her. Any minute now, Tony Stark would be walking past her van.

She’d planned for this moment for two years, seven months, and eighteen days: As she’d stood above her daughter’s freshly dug grave, she’d decided that Tony Stark would die by her hand. And now was her moment.

He appeared on screen, his goatee making him instantly recognizable even on the pixelated screen.

“Go,” she barked to Elliot and Greg, the two henchmen she’d coerced into helping her. People who hated Tony Stark were in no short supply.

The van doors snapped open and the two men leaped out, one with a black bag at the ready, the other with a baseball bat. Mara stayed in the van and watched.

Stark jumped into action immediately, throwing a right hook at Greg’s face that caught him square on the jaw.

“Hey!” A young voice shouted, and Mara looked up to see a teenage boy only a few paces behind Stark. He, too, darted forward, his fists balled as if he was ready to fight.

“No, kid,” Stark gasped, trying to shake off Elliot’s grasp on his arms. Greg came back into the fray, his baseball bat prepped. “Look out,” Stark yelled, his voice strained as Greg swung at the unsuspecting teen, who was trying to pry Elliot off of Tony.

The kid managed to duck the first swing, whirling with wide eyes to see his attacker, but he wasn’t ready for Elliot to drop Stark like a sack of potatoes, grab the kid by the back of the shirt, and throw him into the side of van. He connected head first and slid to the ground, blinking dizzily.

“Mr. Stark,” the boy said, trying to stand up.

“Just bring the kid,” Mara snapped, very aware that someone might come around the corner any second.

Elliot grabbed the bat from Greg’s hand, swung, and connected. The kid went limp in the gutter.

“No!” Stark shouted, his voice hoarse. Greg took the opportunity to punch Tony in the temple, making him crumple to the pavement. The bag went over his head, the men collected their prizes, and they were back in the van, hurtling away from the scene.

Mara had bought the storage unit ten months ago. The company had since gone out of business, but she’d made copies of the key, came back regularly to make sure she could still access it. It was the perfect place for an execution.

She had Greg and Elliot set the two up in chairs facing each other, tightly bound with zipties. Then they all sat back and waited.

She didn’t know what to do about the kid. As far as she knew, he was just a passerby who’d recognized Iron Man and wanted to be his hero’s hero. Not necessarily a condemnation, but now that he was here, a witness to her crime, she couldn’t just let him go. It was a complication, and she spent the quiet minutes puzzling out what to do to fix it.

Stark started coming around first, squinting at the three of them in the bad fluorescent lighting, and cursing emphatically. Then he saw the teenager sitting across from him and his expression fell into something serious and angry.

The kid groaned only a couple seconds later and Mara watched as Stark’s attention immediately snapped toward him.

“Hey, kid. Kid.” The boy looked up, blinking blearily and seemed to struggle to locate Stark. Maybe Elliot had been a little more aggressive than she’d thought. When he did, they stared at each other for a long minute, as if having a silent conversation.

“You ok?” Stark finally asked.

“Um, I guess. What—what’s going on?”

“Just some people without any manners wanted a chat with me. But we’ll be on our way to lunch any minute, don’t worry, kid.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Mara purred. Stark glanced at her, sizing her up quickly, just like he’d done with Elliot and Greg. “Cute kid, Stark. Is he yours?”

Stark rolled his eyes. “No. Some new intern. Great first day on the job, huh, bud?”

The kid gave a nervous laugh, craning his head to look at Elliot in the shadows.

“N-not quite what I expected for an orientation, Mr. Stark.” The boy closed his eyes as if in pain and Mara wondered again how hard Elliot had hit him. Stark seemed to notice as well.

She stepped back, watching as Tony eyed the kid up and down. His lips were pursed, his eyes dark. Perhaps it was merely impersonal concern—he was a supposed hero, and protecting innocent children was in the job description, even if he was a failure most of the time. But there was something familiar in it, an ingrained worry that was routine, habitual. She was a parent, too, she knew what to look for.

Stark may say he’d only met the kid today, but he was nothing if not a liar. She knew better than to believe him.

She didn’t have to tell Stark now, she could show him. She could make him suffer like she’d suffered, make him pay for his crimes. This wasn’t a complication, it was an opportunity.

Mara smirked, and sauntered towards the kid.

“Well, look at you,” she purred, reaching out and caressing the boy’s face before tilting his jaw up. Stark watched, emotionless.

The boy looked up at her, brown puppy dog eyes on full display. She could feel his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed nervously.

“What’s your name?” she asked gently.

The boy’s eyes darted toward Stark, then back. He shook his head minutely.

“No?” Mara asked, rounding the chair so she was behind the kid. She smiled at Stark, then grabbed a fistful of dark curls and yanked the boy’s head backward. A muscle in Stark’s jaw jumped. “How about now?”

“N—”

She cut the kid off. “Not asking you, sweetie. Tell me, Stark. What’s his name?”

Tony exhaled in a rush. “I don’t remember.”

Mara slapped the boy across the face. The smack echoed for a moment of shock before Stark strained against his bonds, a barely contained snarl of rage turning his mouth for a heartbeat before he schooled himself.

“Don’t make me hit him again,” she warned softly. “Just tell me his name.”

“I barely even know him,” Tony snapped, rolling his eyes.

Mara ground her teeth, quickly losing her patience. As if she couldn’t tell, as if the love Stark had for this boy wasn’t written in every line on his face.

The kid glared at her as she turned to him, sighing heavily. She backhanded him and his head snapped to the side, a red mark already forming on his pale face. When he turned back to her, his eyes were burning with anger. She stared back for a moment, memorizing the color of his irises. It was a pity he had to die; he really was a cute kid.

She turned back to Stark. “His name,” she said coolly.

“I don’t—”

“Stop lying!” Mara screamed, her hands clenched in fists at her side. She wanted to tear him apart, she wanted to see him bleed, but she knew his type. Physical pain meant nothing to him, to his pride. He would never break for his own sake. And now that the possibility has presented itself, she didn’t just want to see him dead. She wanted to see him broken.

She stepped forward until she towered over Stark, until she can lean forward and grab his face in her hand, her nails digging into his jaw.

“You think I can’t see the fear in your eyes, Stark? I’ve felt that fear. I’ve lived it. And it was your fault.”

She took a shuttering breath. Tony looked up at her, a terrible understanding in his eyes.

“And guess what,” she whispered, bending low and tightening her hold on him. “Losing him will be worse than you ever imagined.”

Tony thrashed against her hold, a snarl caught in his throat.

“Ah, ah, ah.” She stepped aside, just enough to let Stark see Elliot pulling a knife on the kid.

Tony stilled instantly, uncaring of the bruising grip Mara still had on his face. She yanked his face back around to her, but he still glanced back to the kid every second.

“Now tell me what his name is and I might make it quick,” she said.

Stark’s glare was so icy, Mara nearly shivered. She covered it up by stepping away, back toward the kid. She cast a glance at Elliot and he lowered the knife to the boy’s throat.

“Well?”

Tony hesitated for another half-second, then his shoulders slumped. “Peter,” he finally murmured.

Peter watched Tony, waited until the man looked up, and gave him a reassuring smile that reflected, distorted, off the knife under his chin.

Tony just looked heartbroken.

Mara took a deep breath and forced the memory of her daughter’s smile from her mind.

“Peter,” she repeated, nodding. Peter looked up at her, defiant. She circled his chair slowly and he turned his head to keep her in his sight as much as possible.

“Do you want to know what my daughter’s name was, Peter?”

“Yes.”

“Eliza,” Mara sighed, closing her eyes as she savored the name. “My little ‘Liza. She was seven when she died.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded like he meant it, and she regretted again that the only way to get through to Stark was to kill his kid.

“Do you know what happened to her?”

Peter shook his head.

“He happened.” She let all of the anger and hatred she’d felt in the last two and a half years come to the surface, let it burn behind her eyes as she turned to the man that had cost her everything.

“Do you remember August 9, 2015, Stark?”

Tony looked up at her, thinking for a moment.

“There was a break-in. At the tower,” Tony finally said. “We caught them before they could take anything. They shot their way out. Four injuries, two deaths.”

The way he rattled the information off like they were statistics, like those weren’t real people made Mara’s blood boil.

“Yes,” Mara snarled. “My daughter and I were in Midtown that day. Running errands. She wanted to see Avengers Tower, to see where her heroes lived. And then she got shot and in the panic someone knocked me over. By the time I got to her she was already gone.” Her voice broke.

Stark’s expression was pinched.

“I remember,” he whispered. “I offered to pay for the funeral and you refused.”

“I don’t want your money,” Mara yelled. “I needed your help! You were there and you didn’t help!”

“I was trying to stop them from hurting anyone else. I didn’t notice in time. I’m sorry.”

“Save your useless apology, Stark. It’s two and a half years too late.”

“Then why am I here?” Tony asked, his voice resigned, like he knew that she wanted him dead. But she wanted more than that, too, and that hadn’t occurred to him yet.

“You are here,” she hissed, “to watch.”

His face fell, his eyes flicking to Peter. His heart started beating so hard she could see his pulse in his throat.

“No.”

Peter’s eyes went wide at the guttural denial that ripped out of Tony’s throat. He looked at Mara and she watched the comprehension dawn on his face as well.

“Oh,” he mouthed, his face very pale.

“No, please,” Stark begged, straining against his bonds. “Please, he has nothing to do with that, we hadn’t even met yet, he—”

“You love him,” Mara interrupted. “That’s all that matters.”

“Please, just kill me,” Tony whispered, looking up at her with a desperation on his face that she knew only too well.

“Oh, I’ll get to that,” she assured him. “You think I’m not going to kill the man that killed my baby girl? But first you have to feel it, Stark. The grief. The agony. You have to know what it feels like to watch your child bleed out in front of you.”

“Ma’am,” Peter said quietly. She turned to look at him. “I’m so sorry about your daughter. But... but that wasn’t Mr. Stark’s fault. He would never let anyone die if he could help them.”

“He’s a weapons developer,” Mara scoffed.

“He isn’t anymore,” Peter argued, shaking his head. “Besides, revenge won’t make you feel better. And it won’t bring Eliza back.”

Sighing, Mara leaned over him. She reached out to brush his bangs off his forehead, but he pulled away, looking affronted.

“My daughter deserves vengeance,” she said. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I do,” Peter insisted, looking up at her pleadingly. “My uncle was killed in front of me. And I had the chance to go after his killer, but I didn’t. You can choose not to, too. Right now. You haven’t hurt anyone yet.”

Mara shook her head. “It’s not the same. I am sorry he brought you into this.”

“You brought me into this,” Peter snapped, any forgiveness gone from his features. Mara hummed, then turned back to Tony, who’d watched the exchange in silent panic.

“I’m not a complete monster,” she told him. “Elliot is a very good shot. It will be painless for him.”

Tony made a choked noise, clenching his hands around the armrest of the chair. His eyes were wet with unshed tears.

“I’ll even give you what I never had, Stark. I’ll give you time to say goodbye.”

Mara nodded to Elliot and Greg where they were lurking in the corner and they each stepped forward to undo the bindings holding Peter and Stark in place. The second they were loose, they both instantly spilled forward onto their knees.

Peter crashed into Tony, tucking himself under Tony’s chin and clutching at his t-shirt. Tony responded in kind, putting a hand on the back of Peter’s head and holding him close, his hand threading carefully through the boy’s dark curls, avoiding where the bat had connected earlier.

The safety of a gun clicking off made them both look up—Tony’s arms tightened protectively around Peter, his expression fierce as he saw the gun Elliot was now pointing at Peter’s head.

“Just in case you get any ideas of trying something,” Mara said simply. She knew better than to underestimate Tony Stark.

Tony glared at her for a second, then ducked his head, his attention focused solely on the child in his arms again.

“Peter,” she heard him murmur, his voice low. She listened closely as words poured out of him, quick and desperate. “Pete, I don’t know what to do, I don’t—I’ve got nothing, kid, I—”

Peter cut him off, but his voice was so low and muffled by Tony’s shoulder that Mara couldn’t hear. She watched Tony’s face as he buried his face in Peter’s hair, his expression pinched in a pain that she knew intimately. The pain of losing a child was something you never recovered from. Not that Stark would live long enough to realize that.

They continued talking for a moment, the words lost to Mara. Peter nodded almost frantically as Tony whispered to him, his hand still cradling Peter’s head.

“Time’s up, Stark,” she finally snapped, her chest aching with want as she thought about hugging her daughter.

“No. No, no,” Tony gasped, capturing Peter’s face in his hands as Elliot and Greg stepped forward. He pressed their foreheads together, crowding impossibly closer to the boy.

“It’ll be ok,” Peter whispered. He wrapped his hands around Tony’s wrists.

Mara’s heart beat faster, her blood racing hot through her veins. She was so close. At her word, Tony Stark would watch the child he loved die, just like she had. Her Liza had been feet from her as she took her last breath. She’d watched the light fade from her daughters eyes just as she’d watched those eyes open for the first time.

And Stark had been there, mere yards away, and had done nothing. And now she would stand and do nothing as his boy bled out in front of him, even if the loss of his life pained her. An eye for an eye, a child for a child. There was no other way.

Elliot seized Peter’s collar while Greg wrapped an arm around Stark’s throat, effectively holding him still.

“No!” Stark screamed, clawing at Greg. “Don’t touch him!”

Elliot dragged Peter a few feet away, kicking the boy’s legs out from under him when he tried to struggle to his feet.

“Hey!” Tony snarled as Peter growled, still fighting against Elliot’s hold. Elliot used the handle of the gun to hit the back of Peter’s head, making him collapse, crying out in pain. “Stop!”

“Elliot,” Mara said. The man dutifully wrangled the kid onto his knees, facing Stark. He held his gun to the back of Peter’s head.

Tony was practically hyperventilating. “Oh, go—Please,” he panted. “Please, no. Please just kill me. Please, please, I’m sorry.” Tears dripped down his cheeks as he watched, helpless.

Elliot pulled the hammer of the gun back, the click of it echoing oddly loudly in the concrete room.

“Tony,” Peter said. Tony’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at the kid, agony written all over his features.

Against all of Mara’s expectations, Peter smiled, his eyes bright. His voice was steady when he spoke. “Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Peter,” Tony breathed. Elliot put his finger on the trigger.

And then Peter was moving, faster than Mara had ever seen anyone move. He threw himself backward, throwing one hand up and shoving the gun toward the ceiling in the same motion. The crack of it firing was deafening and Mara cried out as a chunk of concrete fell toward the floor from where the bullet hit.

A heartbeat later, Tony was throwing Greg over his shoulder, twisting his arm behind his back until it was ready to snap.

Peter spun to his feet in a flash and threw a single punch at Elliot, catching him on the jaw. The man fell to the floor and didn’t move.

Mara backed up to the wall, heart pounding. She hadn’t realized... Stark hadn’t been in his suit, and he was older, but she’d taken precautions. She’d been so careful. She’d known better than to underestimate him, but it hadn’t even crossed her mind that the kid, who was small and thin and fragile, could ever pose a threat to her plans.

Tony quickly frisked Greg, found his gun, and pistol-whipped him. He, too, went limp, instantly unconscious. Then he turned toward her, the gun still in his hand.

“Tony, you ok?” Peter panted, rolling Elliot over and checking his pulse.

“Will be in a minute, kid,” Tony said, his voice low. Peter looked up and watched him stalk forward, his eyes going wide.

“Tony.”

Tony raised the muzzle to directly between Mara’s eyes.

“You said you’d kill the person that killed your kid,” Tony hissed. “What makes you think I won’t do the same?”

Mara swallowed, her eyes flicking between the barrel of the gun and Stark’s face. His expression was totally blank, but his eyes were lit with a furious fire that sent shivers up her spine.

“I-I,” she stammered, unsure how to tell Stark that she had been relying on his grief to incapacitate him. She’d been assuming that he wouldn’t care about dying when his kid was a corpse in front of him.

And, if she’s honest with herself, she’d been relying on his sense of honor. She’d known that even with her planning and contingencies, there was no way she could guarantee she would succeed. The risk had been worth it, but if something had gone wrong, she had assumed that he would never willingly kill someone, that he would never hold a gun to someone’s head out of anger. She didn’t know how to say that despite thinking he was a villain, she’d expected him to act like a hero.

“You held a gun to a sixteen-year-old’s head and told yourself you were giving your daughter justice. But if you had succeeded, all you would have done was kill an innocent child.”

“And what about you?” she snapped back. “What are you doing right now?”

“You’re not a child,” Tony said coolly, his finger on the trigger. “And you’re certainly not innocent.”

Mara sucked in a breath, closed her eyes, and prepared to see her daughter again.

“Mr. Stark.”

Her eyes snapped open to see not the cold barrel of a gun, but Peter’s back.

“Come on,” Peter said softly.

Mara risked leaning just far enough to see Tony’s face soften, his eyes lose their fire.

Tony’s mouth quirked up in a half-hearted, crooked smile. He quickly lowered the gun, showing Peter the side of it.

“Safety’s still on, kid.”

Peter’s shoulders loosened. “Oh.”

“Come here, Pete.” Tony bent and dropped the gun on the ground at his feet, then kicked it away, almost like a peace offering to Peter. As soon as the gun was a few feet away, Peter dove forward and was engulfed in a tight hug. Mara slid to the floor, legs numb from adrenaline.

“You did great, buddy,” Tony muttered, keeping an eye on Mara as he ran a hand over Peter’s back as if to check for injuries. “No extra points for the dramatic flair, though.”

“You’re one to talk,” Peter scoffed. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you crying.”

Tony sniffed, squeezing the back of Peter’s neck as he pulled back. “Yeah, well. I’m never going to get the picture of you with a gun to your head out of my mind. Like I needed more nightmare fuel.”

Mara couldn’t see Peter’s face, but his voice was bashful. “Sorry.”

Tony pushed the bangs back from Peter’s forehead in a display of gentility she’d never expected him to possess.

She couldn’t stand it.

“No!” She screamed. They both jumped like they’d almost forgotten she was there. “No!” Tears burned in her eyes and spilled over. “You were supposed to die! You were supposed to understand what you did to me. My baby is gone. You needed to lose yours.”

Tony scowled down at her.

“I didn’t kill your daughter,” he said. Then he glanced at Peter and his face softened. “But I understand wanting to do anything to bring justice for your child. I am sorry.”

Mara spat at him. Peter looked indignant, but Tony just sighed, pulling him away and using Elliot’s phone to call 911. Feeling as if she’d lost her Eliza all over again, Mara just curled in the corner and wept while they waited for the police to come and arrest her.

Peter and Tony watched her be put into the police car, her hands cuffed. As the car drove away, she saw Stark pull Peter into his side and kiss his temple, his eyes closed as he held the boy close.

She’d known from the second she’d seen them together that Peter was more than the intern Tony pretended he was. It was obvious in the way they looked at each other, protected each other. She’d seen, and others would too. Tony Stark might still get the punishment he deserved. Even if she wasn’t the one giving it.

#Irondad and Spiderson #Tony Stark #Peter Parker #MCU #brotp: speaking of loyalty #my writing #fic

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faulty-writes · 4 years

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Headcanons for Pro heroes Tenya, Izuku, and Mirio meet their soulmate... but she's a villain! A villain who's REALLY bad at BEING bad. The other heroes and police don't even take her seriously anymore, usually choosing to just outright ignore her since she's so harmless in her efforts to be bad, treating her more like 'the village idiot' than an actual threat, even though she actually has a super powerful quirk that has the potential to be incredibly dangerous.

[ Yeeeeeees. Something with my boy, Tenya. I love him to pieces! ]

Tenya Iida

The first time he met you it was in the middle of you trying to rob a jewelry store, but it appeared as though you were merely exchanging various jewelry pieces as opposed to actually stealing. But even so, Tenya felt something in his heart that day and though he had heard of you, he also heard of the way others treated you and while you were classified as a villain. He didn’t fully believe that.

It was quite unheroic of him, but he often saught you out. “Halt villain!” he called as he stood there dressed in his Ingenium costume, and once more he felt his heart pull toward you. “Ingenium!?” you snapped and growled as you tightened your fists. “Back off hero or I will assassinate this child!” you threatened as you grabbed the dummy doll you had or rather it was a custom made silicone copy of a child. Your latest plan involved something with kidnapping children, but Ingenium merely laughed at your efforts. Though not out of pity, he genuinely thought you were adorable.

He knew the police would often ignore your efforts, which in a way didn’t sit right with him. Even if you didn’t fit the role of a villain, you still deserved some positive recognition, and while he knew of his feelings toward you. Knew that you were his so-called soulmate, he’d often put on an act whenever you two fought. Pretending to be injured by your advances until the day you showed him what your quirk could really do and it nearly took his life. However, when he recovered enough to be discharged from the hospital. The first thing he did was track you down, you were busy writing down your ideas for your next evil plot when you heard him and snarled.

“Ingenium! I demand you leave at once before I kill you!” you snapped and he chuckled. “I believe if you wished for my death, you would have done so already. My love,” he said and though his words made you blush, you shook your head. “I am not your love! Stop saying that hero! You disgust me!” you hissed. Though in all truth you knew he was correct, you had felt the pull as well and while you had the desire to hug him. Stay close to him, protect him even if you were so bad at protecting yourself. You knew you couldn’t. “Your quirk is rather impressive. Please tell me more,” he said and you felt your heart sink.

“W-Why would I tell you! Ingenium you will get in trouble if you are found associating with a villain!” you hissed, unsure of why you cared so much. He took a seat on the ground and shrugged, “Perhaps it is rather stupid of me, but you are my soulmate and I believe such a thing takes priority and I would truly like to know more about you.” he said and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of his smile. “You’re going to regret this ...” you whispered and he shrugged in response. “Perhaps, perhaps not. May I get your real name?” you jumped in surprise, he wanted to know that? Your blush deepened, “Y/n.” you said and watched as Ingenium held his hand out. “Tenya Iida and if may so be bold as to make the following statement. Your future husband.”

Izuku Midoriya

When he first met you, his face lit up like a firecracker and somehow deep inside him he knew that his search for love was over. Of course, as the number one hero. He hadn’t given much thought to love, thinking that it was going to be impossible to find his soulmate. Sure he had pondered about it, but he never actually thought it would happen. Yet, there you were. Trying to drown someone in a stream that you quickly found out was too low to do such a thing. He thought it was a little silly and you had a small quarrel before he watched you disappear.

He knew he should take villain threats seriously, but he also found it a little frustrating that the authorities didn’t take you seriously. One day, he had arrived on the scene of you trying to hook up a television and satellite so you could broadcast your latest evil plan. The boys in blue were laughing and you were standing there, arms crossed with a red face. Deku had asked you if everything was alright and you hissed, “Back off hero or I’ll show you the meaning of pain!” But Deku just laughed and pulled you into a hug, which you didn’t expect. “You’re so cute,” he said and you growled in frustration.

You didn’t expect a hero of all people to be after you, but Deku seemed persistent in tracking you down. In fact, it always seemed like he knew where you were at all times. Given, you felt that connection with him, but you refused to believe a pitful hero was your soulmate. Yet, Deku continued to remind you of that and had even saved you when you were plotting your next evil scheme on top of a building. It involved a rocket and some type of extreme itching power. But during your villain speech, you stepped too far and fell off the edge of the building. That was the first time anyone had saved you and though, you didn’t want to admit. You were blushing as Deku held you in his arms.

You had tried to branch out to other villains, believing that by making some connections your reputation would be boosted, and perhaps you’d even be considered feared. But even the villains rejected you, claiming that you were nothing more than a mockery. When the authorities later arrived on the scene, there was blood splatter and dead bodies everywhere. Obviously a powerful quirk at work, you were hiding behind a pillar when Deku arrived as well. You watched as his head turned and his stare fixated on you. For a moment you felt afraid of that stare. Weeks had passed since that incident and Deku managed to corner you after another scheme had gone wrong.

“Why do you keep following me, hero!?” you growled, “That was you that caused all that destruction. You have a powerful quirk, huh?” he questioned before stepping closer, and you shot your hands out, a pink glow surrounding them. “Don’t make me hurt you.” the threat came out of your mouth in a hiss, but Deku seemed unphased and grabbed your hands. Pulling them against his chest, the fabric of his hero suit began to burn. “Do it then,” he challenged before leaning over, pressing his hand to the side of your face. “Even if you hurt me, even if you aren’t a true villain. You are still my soulmate and that will never change,” he said before pulling you close, and for a moment, you felt the unfamiliar sensation of a tear roll down your cheek.

Mirio Togata

Lemillion was the number 2 hero on the charts, feared and admired by heroes and villains everywhere. However, most would think a hero would keep the fact that a villain was their soulmate under wraps. Not Lemillion. During an interview, he had talked about how he ran into you, laughs sounded from the crowd as you were known as nothing more than a joke. But Lemillion only smiled and stood up, “Hey now! That happens to my soulmate you’re laughing at! Sure they may not be threatening, but they have creativity and a sense of never giving up! That’s admirable.” of course, he received backlash from his statement. But he carried on as positive as ever.

Frankly, as a villain you didn’t care about heroes. But Lemillion was something else and because of him, your reputation went further down the drain. No villain or hero would take you seriously. Despite your plans being well, less than perfect. Jewelry store robbery? It went wrong. Theft? You ended up stealing the plastic replica of the real thing, but each and every time something went wrong. Lemillion was there and you were beginning to hate his flowing red cape and smile. Despite the fact that smile made your heart race.

Whenever you saw him, he’d always greet you with a “Hey there, sunshine! Did your plan go wrong again? Well, that’s okay! Just keep trying.” you’d always throw a punch at him but he’d only grab it and pull you in for a hug. You’d blush as you struggled to get out of his grip and the authorities would always laugh at the display of the hero hugging the wannabe villain. There was even a newspaper article about it, “Lemillion Hugs for Lonely Villain.” God, you wanted to burn all those newspapers and you would have if you didn’t run out of lighter fluid.

One day it seemed like you were out of ideas, you were standing on the rooftop of a building. Different scenarios running through your head only to have Lemillion interrupt them. You growled, “Will you leave me alone!?” you snapped before using your quirk and watched as a large explosion sounded near Lemillion. However, he was clever and before you knew it, he had his arms around you. “Let me go!” you growled as you began to kick and Lemillion laughed, “How can I let my soulmate go?” he replied and though you blushed, verbal threats continued to pour out of your mouth. It was beginning to weigh you down, not being an actual threat. Not playing the part of a villain well enough.

Yet, somehow you blamed it on the fact that a hero was your soulmate. Of course, you felt a connection with Lemillion. Yet you knew it wouldn’t work out regardless of how he continued to chase you. “Don’t you get it!?” you snapped one day, “I’m a villain! You’re a hero! I’m pathetic and you ...you just ...you get all this praise and you actually do your job and-” a scream caught in your throat when Lemillion pulled you close, pressing his lips against yours. You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach before he pulled away with a smile. “You do a wonderful job, but maybe being a villain isn’t your thing? Maybe that’s why you’re my soulmate because we were meant to work side by side!” you could hardly believe his words.

#tenya x reader #izuku x reader #mirio x reader #iida x reader #midoriya x reader #togata x reader #bnha requests #bnha x multicharacter #Anonymous

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