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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 year ago

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Meet Cute

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Reader is surviving in the apocalypse alone, until she meets a stranger who needs her help, even if he doesn't want to admit it. This is a reimagining of when Daryl gets hurt trying to find Sophia in Season 2, in which the reader shoots Daryl instead of Andrea. This can be read as stand alone, but can also be read as a prequel fic to "Your Fault," describing how reader and Daryl met for the first time. (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me).

Era: Hershel farm era.

Tropes: Angst, Fluff (if you squint at it), Patching up someone's wounds.

Warnings: I mean, I don't think there's any. I'll say references to past trauma with survivors, but mentioned only once or twice and not detailed. Blood and gore, because the reader is patching up Daryl's wounds and of course zombies. Cursing, not a lot, but a few words.

Word Count: 4.1K (Oops) (Seriously did not mean for it to be this long.)

Note: There is minimal use of (y/n). Any references to the reader besides the (y/n) is done using "your" or "you". I tried to proofread the best I could, nobody's perfect. If you don't like, don't read, but if you do like you're my favorite!

Internal monologue is done in italics and is in first person.

ENJOY!

Main Masterlist

Future Fic "Your Fault"

******************************************

It was raining and you were having a bad day. You weren’t having a bad day because it was raining, you actually liked standing in the rain, feeling the cool water drip down your face and through your clothes made you feel alive in the best way. It was difficult to find things that made you feel alive, especially after two months in the zombie apocalypse.

You considered yourself lucky, the first day everything went to hell you had slept through it. Pulling a double at the hospital downtown knocked you out and you woke up to the screams and the pounding of feet in the hall of your apartment building.

By then the phones were gone, electricity to the city had been cut off and you were hopelessly alone. Not unwelcome, due to the fact that it had been you on your own since your father had died a year earlier, but still acute enough for you to notice. It took you a week to leave your apartment to try and scavenge for food, even then you were not ready for the carnage that waited on the streets of Atlanta. After another week you realized that you needed to get out, it was too dangerous to be there. The military had failed and there was nothing left for you in the city. So you packed your backpack and said goodbye to your old life. Finding the cabin outside Atlanta was fortuitous, especially after you ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere. That being said when you found it originally, it had its quirks. No windows, a door that hung off its hinges, blood stains on the wooden floors, and no running water all made the cabin less than ideal.

But after two months it was home.

You sigh to yourself as you reset the trap, hiding it underneath the wet dead leaves as rain dripped from the treetops above. Someone or something was getting into your traps. It was the third time in a week it had happened and you were starting to get annoyed. You suspected it was a walker, since you continued to find bits and pieces of squirrel in the forest around the trap.

You continue your trek in the half-circle one mile out from the cabin. It was a nice spot, dense forest with a small creek that ran through, small enough to cross, but enough water that you didn't have to worry about going any further to find it. The only time you left the cabin was to scavenge, but that took a few days of preparation.

Rain pattered softly over the fallen leaves, weaving in and out of the canopy above, and kissing your skin. Being alone never bothered you before, but the thought that you might be the last person on earth was different. It was one thing to choose to be alone, another thing to be forced into it.

The sound of shuffling and sliding leaves makes you pause, ears peeled. You did not see too many walkers where you were and figured that because you were in the middle of nowhere there weren't enough people to turn.

The shuffling gets louder and you duck behind one of the trees, drawing your pistol from the belt at your waist. It was a gift from your father when you moved to Atlanta to start your residency. Target practice every week made you a good shot and helped blow off steam when shifts at the hospital were tough. Unfortunately, you hadn't been able to find many bullets, which prompted you to carry a hunting knife on the opposite side of your waist. The only ammo stores you found were stripped down and desolate. Sometimes you worried what would happen when you ran out.

You hear the heavy exhale of the walker as it continues through the woods behind the tree where you are hiding. You peer around the tree trunk, watching it shuffle along. It's wearing dark clothes, blood dripping from its side as it hunches over and travels away from you. A crossbow is strapped along it's back at an awkward angle and every step it releases a heavy exhale.

You click off the safety. Probably the same walker that's been eating all my squirrels. You think to yourself as you aim the gun at the back of the walker's head and take in a deep breath. But just as you pull the trigger, the walker stumbles to the left and the bullet scrapes along the outside of the walker's skull.

Shit.

As it falls, it hits its head on a tree stump and lies still, face down. You come out from behind the tree cautiously, replacing the pistol at the holster on your waist and pull out the hunting knife. The walker doesn't move.

Okay. I can do this. I can do this-

You tap it with your boot. It groans once, but doesn't make an attempt to get up. Wait. If its groaning and not moving is it not-

You bend down and grab the back of the walker's shirt, avoiding the crossbow to roll it over, and suddenly realize, it's not a walker, it’s a man.

SHIT.

"Hello?" You poke his chest once, twice, but he doesn't respond. "Um- Sir? Are you okay? Can you speak?"

Why did I just call him sir?

The man groans softly, but does not open his eyes.

SHIT.

You hadn't run into many people in the apocalypse. Saw them from afar, but never approached one. Your father had instilled in you that desperate situations bred a new kind of person. No one could be trusted. The one time you had run into a group, you learned that the hard way. You shake it off and look down at the man on the ground.

He's covered in a layer of dirt and grime, a necklace of walker ears hangs over his dark green tank top, a large hunting knife hangs from his waist next to a child's doll, and blood soaks through the side of his shirt.

Why does he have a doll? Is he like one of those truckers on the highway that has a teddy bear strapped to the front of their semi? Because that's kind of weird.

You stepped closer to examine where the blood has stained his shirt along his side. He's really hurt.

You raise your head to look around the forest around you. He doesn't have a pack, his camp must be nearby. Which means that there might be others that come looking for him.

You look back down at the man where the bullet scraped through his hair, watching the blood trickle down the side of his head. You think about leaving him there. I don't know him. I can just walk away no harm done-

You bite your lip. I can't do it. I can't leave him here. You curse your conscience. Now I just have to haul him the entire mile back to my cabin, without waking him up or hurting him.

Great.

*******************************************

Dragging him back to the cabin through the woods and up the front steps took over an hour. You were too afraid to drag him back quickly, afraid that it would do more harm than good especially because you were unsure how bad the wound on his side was. He hadn't woken up, a bad sign, but you were optimistic.

Guilt momentarily fills your chest. You wouldn’t have shot him if you knew he was still alive. You probably would have just let him go on his merry way. But then you think about how he stumbled.

If I let him go, how far would he have gotten? Maybe me taking him is better than the alternative.

Staring at him laying on the hardwood floor made you wonder if this was a bad idea. You didn't know him. He might have a group somewhere and he might be faking to find out where you lived.

If he is faking he is certainly committed. You mused gazing down at him again.

He was older than you, by a few years at least, with brown hair that stuck out in different directions. Your eyes sweep his clothes, nose wrinkling at the strand of walker ears around his neck. His clothes were dirty, covered in dirt and dead blood. You had taken great care with his crossbow, setting it down on the small wooden table that you usually ate at, noticing how clean it was.

He must really care about it.

You couldn’t help but notice how small the man looked laying on the floor. And it made you feel more guilty about shooting him.

You walk away to get your medical bag, it was on the makeshift kitchen counter on the right back wall. The cabin was one room, in one corner there was a giant cabinet filled with whatever cans you could salvage, in another there was a wooden counter with a non-working sink, a small fireplace sat on the left wall, and in another there was a small twin sized bed covered in mismatched blankets. You had been prepping for winter, moving further and further into town to salvage what you could and storing chopped wood against the inside wall by the fireplace. The thought of winter scared you more than you’d care to admit. Especially with the squirrel traps giving less and less each day.

I wonder if this is the person stealing all my squirrels. You frown to yourself. Maybe I shouldn't help him.

You hear a strange sound behind you and as turn around, bag in hand, you notice that the man isn't on the ground anymore. He's standing, crossbow drawn, pointed directly at your chest.

Great.

"Where the hell am I?" The man growls.

Your chest tightens in fear. By the time I reach for my gun he’ll shoot me.

"It’s okay." You force the tremor from your voice, trying your best not to look frightened. The bag drops to the ground and you hold up your hands in front of you in a gesture of surrender. "You're at my cabin. You're safe."

"Why?" His eyes narrow as he takes another step forward.

This was such a bad idea. Granted I also would have that reaction if I woke up in a strange place.

"I'm a doctor. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You collapsed and I noticed you were bleeding."

He backs up towards the door without turning around, eyes wild, body tense, ready to spring.

"Wait please. I feel really bad-"

The guilt is back now as you look at the scrape along his head and the blood soaked shirt.

"Why?" The man narrows his eyes.

"Because I-" You scrunch up your face in embarrassment. "I thought you were one of those things and I shot you. I'm sorry."

"You shot me?"

"Yes. I mean, you stumbled at the last second and I missed, but I'm also pretty sure that you hit your head pretty hard."

"What?"

"It felt wrong to leave you there.”

“I don’t need your help.” He spits.

“You’re probably right.” Your hands are still palm up in front of you. “But I thought it would be stupid if you survived this long with those things out there and then died from an infection. That's pretty pathetic." You smile sheepishly at your attempt at a joke to lighten the mood, but he doesn't smile.

Well the good news is if he leaves I'll never see him again, and I'll be able to forget about this entire awkward exchange. Who am I kidding? It’s going to haunt me at night, right up there with the time I tripped and ate it on the way to the microphone at my 8th grade talent show.

"I don't want your help." The man says again as he turns to go, but groans when he feels the muscles on his side strain with the movement.

"Please." You breathe. "It'll take ten minutes then you can leave and we never have to see each other ever again."

His eyes are still narrowed. They skate across your body sizing you up. “Are you alone?”

The question makes a cold shiver travel down your spine. It's the question that made you avoid other survivors, the question that made you tie your hair up under a hat, wear oversized clothes to hide your body, and a scarf to hide the bottom half of your face.

“If I say yes are you going to attack me?” Your throat is thick when you ask it.

He shakes his head.

You watch him curiously, but even though he’s pointing a crossbow at your chest you don’t think he’s lying. “Then yes.”

The man stands there for another few seconds. “Five minutes.”

“Fine."

He makes no move to lower the crossbow.

"Is it okay if I move or are you going to shoot me?" You raise an eyebrow.

The man sighs and finally lowers the crossbow, which you take as confirmation that you can pick up your medical bag.

What am I doing? I should have just let him leave. You think to yourself, watching the way his eyes dart around the cabin.

You both stand there awkwardly for a second. “You can just sit on the bed. It'll probably be easier than the chair.”

He sits down, but places the crossbow next to him on the bedside table, as if preparing for you to attack him.

You tried to remember the training you had for dealing with unwilling patients. Of course when that happened the hospital let them leave, but you didn’t want him to leave. You felt guilty for shooting him and you felt guilty for dragging him all the way here. And despite not knowing him, you were worried.

He could barely move without it hurting, what would happen if he left? One of those things were sure to get him on the way back wherever he came from.

You pull up a chair, so close to him that your knees are almost touching, and place the bag on your lap, looking through for your supplies.

“How long have I been here?”

“A little over an hour. Took me a while to drag you here. You’re heavier than you look.” You smile up at him, but he continues to frown.

“Are you really a doctor?”

“Why would I lie about that?” You shuffle through the bag, placing the supplies on the bed.

“I don’t know.” He shifts. “You don’t look like a doctor.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“No. You're just-“

You wait for him to think of it, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Okay.

“This is going to hurt just for a second.” You soak the cloths in the antiseptic and raise one to the side of his head. The man flinches away from your touch with narrowed eyes. “For this to work I’m going to need to touch you.” You say softly with a gentle smile. You were under the impression that he wasn't mean, rather he just wasn’t used to other people.

He leans forward, looking away from you to give you access to the side of his head. Your left hand brushes away the strands of hair from where the bullet scraped along his head, dabbing with the cloth along the shallow wound. You were happy to note that it didn’t need stitches, but you still wanted to clean it out. The man doesn’t wince when the cloth touches his skin.

“I’m y/n by the way.”

He waits a beat. “Daryl.”

You continue to clean along the wound, concentrating on getting as much blood and dirt away from the opening.

“Have you been out here alone this whole time?” Daryl asks.

“Yeah. How about you?”

“No.”

Guess he doesn’t say a lot.

When you finish with his head, you start to reach for his shirt, but Daryl jumps hand twitching towards the crossbow.

“It’s okay." You smile at him. "I want to look at your side. If you could just take off your shirt-"

“No.”

“But I have to see it-“

He frowns at you. Finally, Daryl pulls up his shirt only enough for you to see the wound on his side, but no further. Just under the cloth of his shirt where it stops, you see remnants of pink scar tissue.

You try very hard not to look at the pink scar tissue, but you were curious. Was that why he didn't want me to take off his shirt?

He’s not looking at you. In fact the only time he made eye contact with you was when he was holding the crossbow.

“You might need to lie down for this one.”

Daryl eyes you again, before finally he lays down on his side, still not looking at you. The wound on his side is deeper, two piercings that go from the front of his abdomen and through to his back.

Did he shoot himself with the crossbow? How is that even physically possible?

“What happened?”

“Fell.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I think I’m going to need to pour the antiseptic in this one and it's going to hurt. You can hold my hand if you want.” You put your left hand on the bed as a peace offering. He doesn’t take it.

Or not.

As soon as the liquid touches his skin, Daryl fists his hand in the mountain of blankets, clenching his teeth together.

“I know I’m sorry.” You can't help but touch his arm and he flinches back away from you. “But now it’s clean and you don’t have to worry about infection.” You go through the motions with the stitches, pulling the needle through the skin smooth and steady, surprised that Daryl does not react to the needle. You reach for a bandage to cover the affected area. "Okay, so keep this clean, don't raise your arm up too high or the stitches will rip, change the bandage in a day or so. I'm going to give you one to take with you. Do you want some painkillers? I think I have some in here somewhere."

"No."

"Okay." You stand up and move out of his way so that he can get up from the bed, before beginning to look through the bag for a spare bandage.

Daryl stands there for a minute with his crossbow dangling from his right hand as if he's not sure what to say.

"Here." You hold out a bandage.

"Don't need it."

"Are you sure?"

Daryl nods once.

"Well if you rip your stitches or decide you want another bandage, you know where to find me." You can't help but smile at him.

As much as you were afraid of him at first, you couldn't help but like the interruption in the monotony of your day. And despite his gruff exterior, you liked talking to him. Which was surprising given the fact you hadn't liked talking to anyone else in the past.

He doesn't say anything, instead he starts to walk to the door of the cabin, but he stops. "Thanks." Daryl doesn't look away from the door.

"You're welcome. Be careful out there."

And then he's gone, leaving you in the still silence of the cabin once more.

********************************************

The next few days pass as they usually do. You check the traps, scavenge for water, read a book by the fireplace at night, but every time you leave the cabin you hope to see Daryl again, hope that he'll come back because he needed that bandage or maybe will just come by to sit in utter silence.

That last bit seemed the most in character.

You didn't want to admit to yourself how disappointed you were in the silence that followed his exit. Not because he spoke that much, but even his presence in the cabin made whatever this was easier. Before you relished in the fact that you were alone, but now after you met him, it felt too quiet.

However, you had noticed more dead in the area over the past few days and that made you worry.

What if Daryl never made it back to wherever it was he was going? What if he had gotten attacked as soon as he left? You tried not to think that, because Daryl looked capable enough to survive in the apocalypse. Definitely seemed capable when he held a crossbow to your face.

You jolt awake to the sound of someone frantically knocking against your door.

What?

You tighten your hand on the hunting knife under your pillow before you sit up in bed. Maybe I dreamed that.

Someone kicks open the front door of your cabin.

Definitely didn't dream that.

A ball of fear lodges in the back of your throat as you grab the gun on your bedside table, holding it up between you and the dark figure standing just inside the doorway.

"Y/n?" A familiar voice shouts.

"Daryl?" You lower the gun watching the dark figure turn to barricade the door.

"We have to go."

"Daryl what's wrong-" As soon as the words come out of your mouth, you hear the moaning and shuffling of the dead followed by the pounding of hands against the door.

Fear makes your entire body freeze. You had been in Atlanta long enough to watch the chaos, watch what happened in the streets, the memories of what you saw keeping you awake more than one night, memories of the masses of bodies swarming survivors and the ungodly screams that followed.

"We gotta go.” He grabs your wrist and hauls you out of bed.

In case of an emergency like this, you always slept fully dressed. You clip your belt around your waist before putting the gun back in the holster and throwing your oversized jacket on over your t-shirt. Your pack is on the floor by the back door. The medical bag is small enough to shove inside the black backpack.

“Come on!” Daryl grabs your hand and pulls you out the back door, dragging you through the woods behind him.

You glance over your shoulder. The moonlight above illuminates the mass of walkers that surely would have destroyed the small cabin and you inside.

He came back for me. The thought makes a surge of gratitude warm in your chest. He didn't even know me and he was willing to fight his way through dead infested woods to save me.

Daryl shoots one that stands in your way, glancing behind him to see the mass of walkers that follow, before letting go of your hand and reloading the crossbow.

“Where are we going?” You shout running behind him, gun drawn.

“Up ahead-“ He responds over his shoulder.

You break out of the tree-line onto a road, where a motorcycle waits haphazardly on the edge of the long grass.

He jumps on the motorcycle revving the engine once, looking up at you expectantly. You don’t hesitate. You kick your leg over the side and wrap your arms around his waist to secure yourself. Daryl's muscles tense as you do, but the motorcycle shoots off, the sound of the engine masking the moans and shuffles of the dead emerging from the trees behind you.

You drive for a few miles, far enough that you put your face into Daryl's back to block the onslaught of wind that comes up over the road.

As soon as Daryl hits the interstate he weaves through the broken cars, before finally parking in the median. The world sounds quieter without the roar of the motorcycle, you notice as the smooth silence of the night returns.

"Why did you come back for me?" You ask him, as you get off the seat before you can stop yourself.

Daryl lights a cigarette, not meeting your eye. "You helped me."

"After I shot you."

"You missed." He shrugs.

You snort. "I did." You look out over the desolate interstate where cars are haphazardly parked and empty luggage cases spew clothing onto cracked pavement. "So what now?"

Daryl blows out a lungful of smoke. "You could-" He stops.

"What?"

"Well." Daryl shifts his feet, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Daryl?" You try to catch his eye worried that he's going to tell you to go away, that he's going to say goodbye right here right now.

"My group is supposed to meet up here." He doesn't meet your eye. "If you want you could come with us, but you don't have to." In the moonlight you swear you see his ears turn pink.

"Well," You sigh looking around. "How else am I going to repay you for saving my life? Might as well stick around."

"We're even."

"No. I think saving someone from zombies trumps suturing a wound. Plus, somebody's got to make sure you don’t shoot yourself with your crossbow again."

Daryl frowns. "I didn't shoot myself with my crossbow."

"I think that you did and that you're too embarrassed to say anything. But don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

He continues to frown at you, but it only makes you smile wider.

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

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Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, be sure to read "Your Fault!"

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl x y/n #twd fanfics

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magicalbats · 4 months ago

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Kinktober 2024 Day 13: Sethos x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6283

Warnings: Afab!reader, misogynistic practices/beliefs, sexual slavery, free use, forced betrothal, chastity device (female), public sex, sex outdoors, anal fingering, anal sex, anal creampie, exhibitionism, mentioned death of parents, noncon to dubcon

A/N: Sethos is honestly one of the most gorgeous characters I've ever seen tbh, his color palette is just stunning imo. Love this guy. 🤭 Just make sure to pay attention to the tags everyone!

⭐

If one were to ask the tribesmen of the desert what they liked about the inhospitable environment so much that they’d choose to stay, even when there was a perfectly comfortable rainforest just over the horizon, one was likely to receive a variety of different answers. Some might say that it was the only home they’d ever known and they were used to living there. Although true, it wasn’t an entirely honest response.

Others might nudge their toe at the real reason by saying they liked the freedom that was allotted to them by living outside of the Dendro Archon’s dominion and the stuffy Akademiya’s reach. That was closer but still not entirely accurate.

Yet other denizens of Sumeru’s expansive desert may even get down to the nitty gritty of it and proudly admit they thrived in the bloodthirsty conditions perpetuated by the lawless land. It was a dog eat dog world out there, and some people were simply far too unlikable to thrive in a polite society where their fists didn’t solve every problem they encountered. You liked this kind of person the least.

In truth, you strongly suspected the real answer lied in the simplicity of the largely nomadic existence of the warrior peoples and not only when it came to problem solving matters. It was easy to understand that in order to eat you needed to work. Not so much when schooling suddenly came into question and you had to try to explain that investing in education now would result in an excess of mora to feed yourself with later. The same also applied to relationships. Why go to the trouble of courting a potential lover over time when you could simply take them by force and have them immediately?

That’s what it boiled down to, you think. A natural aversion to rule following and a hard coded need for the freedom to live life at your own discretion. It wasn’t really any wonder then that the Eremite’s had managed to survive these past long decades with neither help or interference from the nation’s Archon. They were a stubborn lot.

But that only applied to the people who were strong enough to back up their big talk, not someone like you. Taken in by the Temple of Silence as little more than an orphan turned slave and then promised to be their next leader's wife, you had neither freedom nor strength, and you certainly didn’t have the luxury of returning to the city in the rainforest where you were originally from. After your scholar parents died on a joint expedition out into the rolling sand dunes in an accident that left you wandering all alone in the barren wasteland, you had nothing to go back to anyway. Sometimes it felt like your fate had already been signed, sealed and dotted long before you were ever actually born and this lackluster existence was a foregone conclusion.

Oh, how you wished you had a cock between your legs so you wouldn’t have to endure such unfair treatment just because you were a woman.

Sethos was incredibly lucky in that regard. As your betrothed and future husband, you and him spent a lot of time together and you were always surprised at how much freedom he was actually given to do whatever he pleased. Of course not all of it had to do with his gender. As the next leader of the Temple and the adopted grandson of Bamoun, he was granted many allowances that even the other men simply didn’t have.

But you still can’t help the pang of jealousy you feel while you watch him happily gallivant around with nary a care in the world beyond the simple matter of daily survival. His future was already laid out before him and he didn’t need to worry about securing his position since it had already been decided for him by the current leader. It was only a matter of time until Sethos took over for him, and then the two of you would be wed.

The worst part was that he was exceptionally smart and had a quick wit that would put even some Akademiya alumni to shame despite his lack of formal education. You didn’t doubt for one second that he could have easily landed himself a spot in the prestigious school if he’d wanted to, if he’d just try, but that was not the fate the stars had laid out for him.

Sighing under your breath, you drop your chin into the waiting palm of your hand as you watch the boys recklessly fool around with their hunting knives. Someone was going to get themselves hurt at this rate but you knew better than to nag at them by now. They never listened anyway, and your status as a slave meant they often took offense to being told anything they didn’t want to hear when it was coming from you.

As usual you would just quietly observe their play sparring until one of them inevitably failed to move quick enough to avoid the swing of a blade and end up with a new scar to show for it. There was no reasoning with someone who didn’t want to be reasoned with.

Sethos, at least, tended to be a little more agreeable in this regard. He wasn’t outright opposed to hearing you out even if he didn’t always like what you had to say, and he glances over at where you’re sitting at the sound of your quiet exhale. An easy going grin slides across his face and he turns to walk towards you, plopping down on the ground next to the little blanket you’ve got laid out in the sand.

“Getting bored?”

“I’ve been bored since we got here.” You tell him truthfully, but rather than taking it as disrespect like some others might have he just throws his head back to laugh.

“Yeah, I guess girls don’t usually get much out of watching a couple of guys mess around with knives. Would you have liked to stay back at the temple instead?”

“Why, so I could knit yet another shirt for you?” Internally cursing the vague sting of tears that comes into your eyes, you turn your head so you won’t have to look at him any longer. Picking up a small rock covered in sand grit from the ground, you focus all of your attention on it instead. “I know this is just how life is out here, but there’s not much to do. Your grandfather doesn’t even let me have any books to read. He says I need to focus on learning how to be a good wife for you, not filling my head with ideas.”

And you hated it. You hated it so much you felt like you could just scream and throw a fit sometimes. Both of your parents had been accomplished graduates of the Akademiya and they’d instilled a love for learning in you from a very young age. You were supposed to be studying for tests and working on a thesis, setting up internships in your chosen field, not this.

That was the only reason you’d even been out here with them when the accident happened. To learn and pick up on skills that would help you once you were admitted to Teyvat’s most acclaimed and celebrated academy. Who could have ever guessed you'd never again step foot outside of the dry, arid desert at the onset of that trip?

And you don’t make any qualms about your feelings on the matter, nor do you try to hide the fact you’re unhappy. You’ve had this conversation with Sethos many times over the last handful of years since you found yourself in the care of the Temple of Silence but it never seemed to do you any good talking to him about it.

Just as every other time, he falls silent for a brief moment as if he were thinking it over before at last drawing a carefully measured breath to speak.

“I’m sorry things turned out this way for you. I’d change it if I could. But I’ll find you some books when we get back later, how does that sound?”

“And Bamoun will just take them away again.”

“Then I’ll find some more books for you. And when I take over from grandfather I can call the shots. You’ll have as many books as you want, habibti.”

“Don’t call me that.” You hiss, shooting him a quick but not less viscous look of warning.

Sethos just smiles right back at you though, completely unperturbed by your aversion to his favored pet name for you. The bright green of his eyes dances before you even in the shade of the rocky outcrop your small group had stopped at, as if the irises were lit from within with some unnamed mischief he was concocting.

It’s a little cooler here than out in the glaring sunlight but not cold enough to warrant the icy chill that snakes down your spine. That particular look from him rarely meant anything good.

“But you are my habibti. It only makes sense for me to call you that, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t want - -“

He cuts off your rattling protest when he reaches over to take your hand in his, snagging your fingers before you can think to pull them away. You startle slightly at the sudden contact even as you stamp down the urge to wrench free of his hold, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good to try. Sethos could at times be the most stubborn person you’d ever known and his tenacity was limitless. If he decided he wanted to hold your hand then that was what he was going to do.

“I know, I know.” He croons at you, keeping his voice soft and hushed as if he were coaxing a skittish animal to warm up to him. “This isn’t the life you would have chosen for yourself if you’d had the chance, and that’s okay. But what’s done is already done. We’ll be husband and wife someday soon so that makes you my habibti. Getting upset about it won’t change that, will it?”

You draw a sharp breath, instinctively readying to fight him on that, but the words catch in your throat. Not only because you already knew it would be useless and no amount of talking on your part ever seemed to convince Sethos that this wasn’t right, but also because of the steady way he just keeps smiling at you. Like his confidence on the matter was so resolute and unfaltering that even if you did try to plead your case it wouldn’t have any affect on his belief in these simple facts. And that’s exactly what it was. Simple fact.

It really was a lost cause. He’d already made up his mind long ago that this was just the way things were and you were going to be his wife. No ifs, ands or buts about it.

The fight promptly drains from you at that realization, leaving you feeling hollow and decidedly bereft of even enough energy to keep drawing air into your lungs. There was no point in fighting it.

“No, it won’t.” You murmur at last, earning a brief squeeze to your fingers.

“See? Then there’s nothing to be mad about. I don’t blame you for not liking all the trouble the elders put you through. I wouldn’t enjoy their knitting or cooking lessons either. That’s why I wanted to bring you out here today so you could get a break from them.”

Feeling a little guilty for your behavior now, you drop your attention to look down at your lap. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“That’s alright,” He tells you softly. “But I have noticed you’ve been getting more and more irritable lately. You know I don’t like to see you like this, habibti. Do you need me to tend to you like last time?”

Your stomach wrenches so suddenly and so aggressively you almost feel nauseous with the abrupt rush of dread that settles over you. It’s a violent subconscious reaction that is at complete and total odds with how casually unassuming the question had been.

Stiffening up to sit ramrod straight, you tersely give your captured hand a yank but he holds fast. You’d known better, of course, but —

“No. Not here, Sethos! Don’t - -“

Softly shushing you again, he scoots closer to join you on the edge of the blanket as his opposite hand comes up to reach for your face. You quickly snap your head away from him but this does you no good either. He just curls his strong, roughly calloused fingers over your cheek so he can force your attention back around to look at him. Although gentle about it, he’s so demanding in the way he nudges you that you have no choice but to comply.

And the tears you’d worked so hard to force back immediately spring up full force to make your vision swim. Sucking in a wet, faltering breath, you pleadingly peer over at your future husband, begging him to spare you the embarrassment of what he was suggesting. The other men were still only a few yards away playing their silly game, they’d see everything!

“Please. I don’t want to do it. I - I don’t like it, I really don’t.”

“I’m not sure I believe that, beautiful. You were so good for me the last time and well behaved too. Even grandfather remarked on how obedient you were.” Tenderly stroking his thumb across your skin, Sethos peers into your face with that confident, knowing little grin. “It’s okay, don’t fret now. I understand that you can be irrational at times but we know just how to fix that, don’t we?”

Your lower lip sadly warbles as he guides you into a nodding motion, encouraging compliance even when you’d rather do anything else than agree to this. But there wasn’t much you could do to actually fight it. Between being a prisoner of the Temple of Silence, functionally nothing more than a slave, and as his promised future bride, you simply didn’t have the privilege of choice. No matter how much you wanted to tell him ‘no’ and kick, and spit until he finally gave up on the idea, you just couldn’t do that.

So you merely sit there when he leans into you, letting him slot his mouth over yours with only a tiny little whimper to show for it. The way he kisses you is just as sure and confident as everything else he does, leaving you with no choice but to reluctantly give in to the demanding push and pull of his lips. He wanted you to reciprocate and so you do.

And when he slides his hand down off your cheek to deliberately push at your shoulder, indicating he wanted you to lie back, you do that too. Stiff and halting, you gingerly ease yourself down to the ground while Sethos follows after you so he can keep claiming your mouth for himself.

Once he’s got you laid out next to him, he lets his topmost hand wander to firmly grope over your chest and give the tits underneath your clothes a savory squeeze. You can’t help squirming against him at the immediate rush of sensation you feel while his surprisingly big hands knead over the fleshy swells until you can’t quite stop yourself from bringing your thighs together in a listless press. He did indeed make you feel good when he touched like this and if he’d just leave it at that you probably wouldn’t have been so opposed to it.

But he eventually grabs hold of your hip to direct you to roll half of the way over, which you shudderingly do to leave your ass pressed into his hip. Still hungrily kissing you, Sethos rather unceremoniously starts to gather your long skirt so he can hike it up around your waist and expose your lower body to the air. It’s not overly comfortable lying like that, with your hips twisted around to grant him the access he sought and your neck craned back to give him your mouth, but you have no choice in this either.

All you can do is helplessly lie there while he hooks a hand under the bend of your topmost knee so he can pull it wide to hook over his leg. That leaves the spot between your thighs completely exposed and vulnerable, and you shudder fiercely when he reaches down to smooth his fingers over your cunt.

Except it is not flesh and blood he touches but rather the cool metal of the gilded chastity device you were forced to wear. It was lightweight and flexible enough to move with your body, yet also sturdy enough to discourage any attempt at removing the barrier by force. Not even Sethos had the key to the little lock keeping it snugly in place where it fed down from the band that was tightly secured around your middle. Only Bamoun had the power to free you from the physical manifestation of your servitude, and he would give that same power over to your betrothed on the night of your wedding. But until then you were made to wear it day in and day out, permitted only to take it off to bathe once in the morning and once at night.

Your one and only consolation in this matter was that at least Bamoun didn’t personally handle the tediously dehumanizing routine himself and instead handed off the key to one of the other female hand servants to take care of. It wasn’t much of a compromise when you really thought about it but at least that saved you the humiliation of having the old man’s hands all over you, touching you where you really did not want to be touched.

But in the here and now when Sethos is lightly brushing his fingers over the strip of gold plated metal, you find yourself sensitively trembling for him all the same. You couldn’t feel anything at all through the chastity belt but the visual alone is enough to make your pussy flood with overly eager, long neglected slick. Even if you weren’t particularly happy about it, you were still keen to be touched there and you did like Sethos enough not to curse him for it.

Groaning a breathy, threadbare sound, you fist your nearest hand in the front of his shirt and jut your pelvis up towards his fingers. It didn’t matter if it was an effort in futility or not when you were so desperate for any stimulation at all that you felt nearly delirious with it at just the slightest suggestion. No one had ever touched you there before, not even yourself. Not like this. You’d only been at the very onset of puberty when you ended up here and the realization that you were a virgin was in part what had made Bamoun decide to marry you off to his grandson.

He’d said he wanted to keep it like that, to make sure you stayed pure and intact until the time came for Sethos to bed you, but in taking away anyone else’s access to your body he’d also taken away yours. There was only a small hole cut out of the otherwise perfectly smooth plate that allowed you to urinate through it but nothing else. It wasn’t even adequately big for you to slip one of your fingers inside.

The only point of entry was further back where the plate ended and the securing metal chord started. The entire contraption was much too snug against you where it fed up between your ass cheeks to move it very much, but there was just enough give for him to shift the thin chain aside and gain entry.

And that’s exactly what he does now, stretching his fingers down over your cunt to brush against the pucker of your hole when he hooks them into the chain. A low, faltering mewl tumbles out of your mouth when he nudges it as far as it will go to leave your anus completely exposed, and you jolt when you catch a masculine snicker off in the near distance.

You knew the other men must have been glancing over and probably elbowing each other over it but you couldn’t bring yourself to look. Instead you just screw your eyes shut and suck in one ragged breath after another, jittery panic gripping you tight while Sethos lightly runs his finger back and forth over the puffy wrinkle.

“Shh, just relax. Don’t worry about them right now,” He whispers against your cheek, soft yet unrelenting at the same time. “Focus on me, habibti. There you go. Deep breaths.”

Struggling just to keep your head on straight, you blearily let your head loll back against the ground and attempt to follow his instructions. The shift makes the tears in your eyes dislodge themselves from your lash line, letting them dribble wet tracks down your face to fall off into the sand.

There was something inherently wrong about this too, of that you were certain. You’d never seen such flagrant public displays of human sexuality before coming here and the lack of shame so many of the men seemed to have about it had frightened you a great deal at first. It seemed any woman who was not strong enough to defend herself from their advances was free game but as Sethos’ betrothed you weren’t even really permitted to fight back. His right to your body was absolute and unquestionable, regardless of the time or the place. And since you were still technically an intact virgin in their eyes, doing it this way didn’t even earn the disapproval of his grandfather.

Sethos’ cleverness was unmatched though so it didn’t really come as a great surprise that he would find a suitable workaround for this. But that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept this sort of treatment or come to terms with it when every single alarm bell was going off in the back of your mind. If it was just him you might have been more amenable — would have been when you were so easily riled up due to years of neglect, but you didn’t want the others to see you like this!

“Oh no, no, albee. Don’t cry. I’m here, don’t worry. I’ll have you all sorted out in no time, I promise.”

He shifts against you then, hand falling away to reach back for something tucked away in his sash. You had a few guesses what it might be, of course, and you just lie there sniffling sadly to yourself while he fumbles behind you for a moment before settling in again.

Cautiously lifting your head, you take care not to look too far ahead and instead focus in on Sethos’ hand and the little glass vial he’s thumbing open. You’ve been through this enough times with him to know it’s sticky olive oil thickly sloshing around inside, though he’d at times also used other kinds of impromptu lubricants when the need arose. This kind of oil was his favorite though for its effectiveness and you find that you’re a little relieved to see he had some on hand. You weren’t sure you could properly relax your muscles when you were all but thrumming like an active livewire in this humiliating situation, but the oil should at least ensure you don’t tear.

Still murmuring soft nothings to you, Sethos reaches down again and carefully upends the small bottle to allow a healthy dollop to ooze out. It lands almost smack dab in the center of your asshole and you hiss a seething sound while he sets the vial aside where it wouldn’t get knocked over.

Then he’s bringing his hand back down to eagerly rub the pads of his fingers through the clinging oil, working it into your skin. Even just that much feels good, you’re mortified to realize, and you reluctantly start to give in to the attention grabbing ache in your gut that demands you seek pleasure in some form.

While you weren’t exactly pleased to be doing this out in the open, right in front of his friends, there was no use denying that his logic in this was reasonable. You had been soothed to complacency the last time he did this to you, and the time before that, and the one before that as well. It was the closest thing to a stress reliever you could get out here when you were neither permitted to touch your own cunt or pick up a curved scimitar for you to swing around.

Even Sethos didn’t trust you that much to let you get your hands on a weapon, and that was probably for the best.

So you just make do with softly groaning through the tears tracking down your face as he works over the puffed up rim of your entrance, encouraging you to relax into it with gentle words spoken against your cheek between the kisses he places there. Not for the first time you think that Sethos will make for a very fine lover someday and you were probably lucky in that regard, but you still wished you could have chosen to be with him instead of having it decided for you.

You probably would have chosen him too, in all honesty.

“Does that feel good, beautiful?” He murmurs, prompting you to nudge your chin in a faltering nod.

“Y - yes. Will you … stick it in?”

“If that’s what you want me to do.”

He starts to lean further over you as if to fully cage you in underneath him but the shuffle of boots in the sand immediately brings his head back up. Squeaking a horrified sound, you shyly bring your hands up to cover your flustered face but even with an audience watching Sethos just keeps rubbing his sticky fingers across your puckered hole as if this were a totally normal, everyday occurrence.

“Sorry to interrupt, boss. Rahid hurt himself trying to show off so we’re going to bandage him up real quick. You want us to start a fire and make a quick lunch or …”

The ‘are you too busy fingering your future bride’ goes unspoken but the other man doesn’t really need to say it at that point. You can hear it clearly in his voice, and you whimper a dire tinged sound when Sethos starts to press in on the center of the slackened wrinkle to tease you with the suggestion of penetration.

“Yeah, you guys just relax for a while. We’ll be done soon.”

“You got it.”

As his footsteps start to retreat, you slowly lower your fingers to peer up at Sethos with a teary eyed look. “This is why I said not here …”

“Aw, come on. No harm, no foul, right? They’ve all seen worse.” Carelessly shrugging off your concerns as usual, Sethos pins you with the sparkling green of his eyes and leans into you again. “Besides, once we’re married I can have you anywhere I want and it won’t just be your cute ass I have access to then. Might as well get used to it now, huh?”

“You’re awful.”

Laughing quietly under his breath, he starts to put a bit more pressure on your entrance and you gasp when that finger starts to slip inside. One measly inch at a time, it forces your inner sleeve to expand and open up for him until he can sheathe it in you straight down to the knuckle. Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a low, warbling sound of pleasure, but both of you already knew that it wasn’t enough. You’d been through this too many times for a single digit to stretch you out the way you wanted to be stretched.

Gradually sliding his hand back until just the tip of his finger remains wedged inside your puffy rim, Sethos slowly pushes back in with two this time. As he settles in to fuck you with them, you outright seethe at the sensation as much as at the sticky wet clicks he pulls from your asshole on each upward plunge. Your body greedily sucks at them and tries to take him in deeper but there’s nowhere else for him to go with his knuckles already flush to your skin.

So he soon adds a third to really stretch your hole open and it puts so much delicious pressure on your squeezing guts that you almost manage to forget where you are.

Hissing a vicious sound, you blindly reach down to curl your hand over the metal plate as if to rub yourself but of course you can’t. You just find your fingers impotently pawing over the spot where your cunt should have been while the sticky sensation of building slick seeps out of you to make a mess along the interior of it. It’s so frustrating that you could almost scream, and Sethos quickly hunches close to press his mouth against your temple when you become increasingly more agitated.

“Shhh. Just relax, habibti. We’ll have that off of you in no time and then I’ll play with your little pussy as much as you want, okay?”

“Please … stick it in, Sethos, I can’t take it anymore.”

Rumbling a low sound of pleasure, he carefully withdraws his fingers from your ass to leave it clenching around nothing while he works to get his pants unfastened. Panting heavily and clutching the front of his shirt in a death grip, you dazedly tip your head to watch him reach for the olive oil again. Another small drop directly to your asshole is quickly followed by a generous portion to his rigid cock which he pumps a few times to smear the copious liquid over it.

Then he’s finally nudging himself right up against you, using his hand to guide his length to your waiting entrance. The other wedges itself under your back to come up around on the other side, clutching you so tightly against him you can scarcely breathe. Angling his narrow hips up, he presses the fleshy head into you and begins to push inside, making your mouth drop open on a silent scream.

It felt good. So, so much better than his fingers had, and the immediate rush of ecstasy has you weakly shaking in his arms. The vibration of his masculine groan right next to your head all but has you seeing double and your head drunkenly lolls back while he works himself deeper, basking in the gradual stretch of your hole.

And he doesn’t wait for you to adjust, knowing you were already sufficiently loosened for him from all the other times you’d previously done this. He just starts thrusting, keeping his strokes evenly drawn out and steady to really make you feel the drag of him against your guts. You’re hyper aware of your sphincter weakly clinging to his length on the way out only to be forced back in on the next upward push and it drives you positively wild.

Especially when he latches onto your softly moving breast with the hand he’d wedged under your back, playing with the stiff nipple right through your shirt. Outright squealing in pleasure now, you fitfully buck your hips to push down on him and meet his plunging cock head on, earning another faltering groan from him.

“Good girl. Oooughn, that’s a good girl, beautiful. You like that? Huh? Like having my cock that deep in your ass?”

“Oh! God … h - harder, Sethos, please!”

A rattling breath puffs out of him in response but he obliges, working his flexing hips more vigorously to really drive himself into your softly squelching ass. The sharp sound of skin smacking against skin rises louder in the air as he drills into you with enough force to really make your tits bounce now. And his other hand quickly comes up to fumble with the hem of your top, shoving it out of the way to expose your chest.

Keening a delighted sound when he bends his head close to capture one of the bobbing nipples in his mouth, you carefully bring your head up to peer out over the sand dune. Sure enough, his friends are sitting around a small campfire some few yards away and they were definitely still within ear shot. But their attention largely remains locked ahead, focusing on whatever they were busying themselves with rather than the sordid display happening just behind them, and you’re reminded once again how different the rules of the desert actually are compared to that of the rainforest. Something like this would never fly in Sumeru City, surely.

But here it’s as if it’s so commonplace that even your shrill feminine cries don’t draw their glances. It was just as Sethos said. They’d seen much worse, had heard much worse and had likely done much worse themselves. Watching you get your ass stretched out on Sethos’ cock wasn’t even all that interesting to them, evidently.

Mewling a frazzled sound, you let your head fall back as you blindly reach down for your cunt again. Even knowing it’s an effort in futility isn’t quite enough to stop you from trying to follow through on the instinctive compulsion, and a pitiful whimper escapes you when your fingers just glance over cool, unfeeling metal. You could tell you were positively soaked through though, and you would be glad to return to the Temple to bathe.

But luckily you still feel the internal pressure within you steadily building even without being able to play with your pussy to help it along. Sethos does an excellent job of that between his pistoning cock and the concerted efforts of his mouth and hands on your tits. It’s almost as if in not being able to derive any pleasure from your cunt, every other erogenous zone on your body was all the more sensitive for it. Your nipples achingly throb in time with the rhythmic pulse in your ass, mirroring your wild heartbeat thrice over, and it doesn’t take long for you to reach the tipping point like this.

What finally sends you over the edge is Sethos, in all his cunning wisdom, taking pinching hold of both stiff teats and giving them a sharp twist. You plaintively squeal, back bowing dramatically to angle your pelvis just right to have him jabbing up at the perfect spot inside your guts. You cum with a violent shudder, wailing a stricken sound as your ass sporadically squeezes around him to milk everything it could get out of the orgasm.

That warm flutter of your walls squeezing around him seems to all but steal the oxygen right out of Sethos’ lungs and he wheezes, lurching against you with a wounded groan. His thrusts turn sloppy and uneven while he chases that pinprick high until he cums too, giving a sudden, fitful jerk to accompany the twitch of his cock where it’s buried deep inside you.

You haven’t even had enough time to recover from your own release yet and the sensation of him shooting off in your ass, painting your interior creamy and white, pulls an overwrought sound from your rattling chest. But then it’s over, just like that, and the two of you lay there for a long moment, panting against one another as the endorphin buzz settles over you.

Finally lifting his head to look you in the face again, Sethos reaches up to thoughtlessly push all that excess of thick hair back over his shoulder where it had started to slide forward. “Feeling any better now?”

It takes a good deal of effort not to roll your eyes but you abstain for the simple fact that … you did feel better, actually. “I hate to admit it and run the risk of further inflating your ego, but yes. I do. Are you happy?”

“Very.” He grins at you, leaning close to give the end of your nose a quick, playful kiss. “You’re always a much better listener when your body is happy.”

You can’t help but frown slightly at that. “What do you mean? I always listen to you. It’s not like I really have much of a choice.”

“Well, yes, but there’s a difference between listening and listening, if you know what I mean. Come on. You’re smart. You get what I’m trying to say, right?”

“I suppose so. What did you want to say then?”

Humming a soft little sound under his breath, Sethos pushes up on his elbow so he can look down at you, smiling that deceptively unassuming smile again. “I just wanted you to know that I understand where you’re coming from. Really, I do. I’d be pretty unhappy too if I were in your shoes, but we don’t need to make this any harder than it needs to be. Once I take over for grandfather, I’ll be happy to give you all the freedom you want. I wouldn’t even mind if you wanted to go back to the rainforest sometime.”

Your eyes go big and round, so caught off guard by what he’s saying that for a long moment you’re not quite sure what to say. Was he serious or … was this some sort of cruel trap?

“Really? You actually mean that?”

“Mhm! You’d just have to promise to come back, that’s all. You’ll still be my wife, you know.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #sethos #sethos x reader #self insert bullshit

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arlana-likes-to-write · 2 years ago

Text

Reunited

Summary: After being deployed for 8 months, you return home to surprise your family.

Warning: Alternative Universe - No modern setting, fluff and angst, reader is the military and Natasha is a military wife, mention of violence/death, no usage of Y/n

Word count: 2.3k

‘The girls made sure to pick out loads of snacks for you and the crew. So make sure you share. There is something for your eyes only so please keep that to yourself. I countdown the days until you are home. All my love.’ You smiled as you reread the letter from your wife two more times. For the past 5 months, you survived on these letters and short phone calls from your family back home. You loved serving your country, it was the greatest honor but a wife and two kids at home made it harder to leave. “Is that from the misses?” Clint asked. You took the other envelope out before he took the box from you.

“Of course it is,” Maria said, joining Clint as he dug through the box. She chose a small can of Pringles. “Look at that smile.” You rolled your eyes, used to the teasing from them.

“Is this for us to share?’ Bucky asked, walking up behind you and grabbing the envelope in your hand.

“Hands to yourself, Barnes,” you said, placing the envelope in your pants pocket for later. “We all can’t be lucky enough to serve with our partner.”

“Ain’t lucky for us,” Maria mumbled, throwing a package of nerds to you. “Especially when you walk in on them.” Bucky’s ears turned pink but he shrugged his shoulders. He took a bag of trail mix. This was one of the reasons you hated the thought of retiring. You found a family amongst the men and women you served with. You were part of an elite group of soldiers that the US government sent in for Black Op missions. Under the command of Nick Fury, the team consisted of you, Maria Hill, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, and Steve Rogers. They were your brothers and sister but you could not wait to be home.

‘Everyone loved the snacks you picked out for them. I’m pretty sure they ate more of them than me. I told a local jewelry maker about you and the girls and how much you mean to me. So she made me three moon necklaces and a sun for me. She said it symbolizes that even though we aren’t together physically I’m always with you and you are with me. Similar to how the moon and sun can’t exist without each other, I’m not me without you. I can’t wait to be home with my girls. All my love.’ Natasha finished your letter. She wanted to reread it but Rose and Hailey were excitedly waiting for her to put the necklaces on. So she did. Once the clasp was in place, they kissed her on the cheek and ran outside to join the other kids. It was a spring day and the Romanoff house was filled with people, food, and laughter. Natasha sighed, stood up, and walked into the kitchen. Laura was there, cutting up a watermelon. “How was the letter?” She asked.

“It was nice hearing from her,” she held up her necklace. “Mind putting this on for me?” Laura nodded, taking the necklace and looking over the charm.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, placing it around Natasha’s neck. Laugher pulled the two mothers to look out of the kitchen window and out into the backyard. They watched as Cooper picked up Rose from behind and threw her into the pool. It was moments like this that Natasha wished you were home to witness them in person and not as a video or photo. Natasha would always support you and she knew you were doing great things but she missed you. Each deployment never got any easier. Laura sighed, putting the freshly cut watermelon into a bowl.

“It never gets easier, does it?” Natasha asked, looking at her friend.

“No,” Laura whispered. “I’m afraid it doesn’t.”

The party was over and the house was quiet. When it was quiet, it was hard for Natasha to mask how much she missed you and your absence affected her. She sat in bed with a photo album in her lap. She seemed to get sentimental whenever you sent a letter. Natasha worked at a gym as a personal trainer and Clint, who was a mutual friend, recommended you to try it out. As the story goes and a fact you liked to remind Natasha, she hated you. She thought you were cocky, arrogant, and annoying. But you were persistent and determined to break down Natasha’s walls. It worked and she was grateful you were patient and understanding. She grew up in the foster care system, bouncing between homes. Now she had everything she dreamt of as a kid; a wife that loved her, beautiful girls, and a house filled with love.

The bedroom door slowly opened and saw Rose and Hailey holding onto their stuffed animals. “What’s wrong, printsessy (princesses)?” Natasha asked, noticing their blotchy cheeks from their tears.

“We miss Mom,” Rose whispered. “Can we sleep in here?” Natasha smiled, placing the photo album on the nightstand.

“Come here,” she held open her arms as the twins climbed onto the bed and settled in on either side of her. Now that they were closer, Natasha saw it was the Build-A-Bears you got for them with a recorded message for their birthday.

“When will she be home?” Rose asked.

“Soon, moya lyubov' (my love),” Natasha kissed her head. The real answer was 4 more months.

“Do you think she’ll bring us another gift?” Hailey asked. It made Rose laugh so Natasha let the comment slide.

“I bet she will. Now let’s get some sleep.” The girls climbed underneath the covers and cuddled up against Natasha. “I love you, my sweets.”

“Love you too, mama.”

“Thank you for picking me up,” you said to Wanda. “I wanted to surprise Nat.”

“It’s no problem,” she smiled. “I almost had a heart attack when your name popped up on my phone.” You chuckled. You were home 2 months early. Usually, Natasha would be waiting for you at the airport with the girls and the signs they made. Instead, you called Wanda, your next-door neighbor. She and her husband, Vision, had twins of their own. Vision was in the military as well but was stationed locally in the cyber division. “Do you want me to record it?” Wanda asked. “I do love those military reunion videos on YouTube. They make me cry every time.

“That would be great,” you cried watching those videos as well. But right now you were focused on not throwing up all over Wanda’s car. Your leg was bouncing, you were so nervous.

“Hey,” Wanda said, pulling down the familiar neighborhood street. “It’s okay. She and the girls missed you.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You admitted.

“Well don’t do that,” she deadpanned. “I just got the car detailed.” Her joke caused a momentary break in your anxiety and you laughed.

“Thank you for that,” you said as she parked the car in the driveway. You looked at your home. The driveway was covered in artwork from the girls and the plants had newly planted plants, that you knew Melina helped Natasha. Your wife did not have a green thumb. You got out of the car with your duffle bag over your shoulder. Wanda was right behind you as you rang the doorbell. You shifted on the balls of your feet as you waited. You’ve been pinned down by enemy fire, watched a van blow up right next to you, and had to administer first aid to save a falling soldier. But as you waited for the door to open, you were so nervous, terrified. Finally, the door opened and there she was, dressed in her typical workout outfit - black leggings and an oversized graphic T-shirt. Her red hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. “Hi,” you whispered.

Natasha had to be dreaming, right? There were 2 more months left of your deployment so why were you standing in front of her? With no sign of injury and wearing your off-duty uniform. You were here. You smiled, chuckling. “I haven’t seen you this shell-shocked since the day I asked you to marry me.” You teased her. Your small jab pulled her out of her trance. She dropped her pre-work bottle to the ground and ran over to you. You dropped your duffle bag to the ground and caught her in your arms. The force made you stumble slightly but you stayed on your feet. “Your home,” she mumbled against your neck. Her voice shook with emotion.

“I’m home, baby,” you said. “I’m home.”

“Rose and Hailey Romanoff,” the camp counselor called into the small gym. “Your mom is here to pick you up.” Her name made Hailey look towards the door and the small pause got her out of the small dodgeball game.

“You're out Romanoff!” Eric called out.

“That doesn’t even count,” Hailey said, walking over to the sideline where Rose was sitting. “I was distracted.” Rose giggled.

“You're so competitive for no reason,” she teased her sister. Hailey rolled her eyes. “Do you think we have a doctor’s appointment?” Hailey shook her head as the followed the counselor out of the gym and down the hallway of the school.

“Mom is usually good at reminding us. Maybe babushka (grandma) and dedushka (grandpa) came for a surprise visit.” Hailey loved her grandparents especially when she convinced Alexei to wrestle with her. Rose smiled.

“Or maybe Auntie Yelena came with Fanny and Lucky.”

“What about Aunt Kate or do you like Lucky more than her?” Hailey joked, watching her sister blush.

“You know that’s not-” The words died on her lips as they rounded the corner.

“What’s wrong?” Hailey looked away from her sister to the normal check-in and check-out area, expecting to see Natasha but no. She saw you.

“Mom!” They cried out, breaking out into a full sprint towards you. You knelt as they collided with you.

‘My girls,’ you thought as you hugged them. They looked so much like Natasha, fiery red hair and Rose had your eye color. Their heart was beating so fast, mimicking the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. You felt their tears on your neck. You looked over their shoulders and saw Natasha, tears in her green eyes. But she refused to let them fall. “What are you doing here?” Rose asked.

“Finished the mission early,” you said, pushing tears off her face.

“Did-did you beat the bad guys?” Hailey asked, refusing to get out of your arms. You didn’t mind, you’d hold them forever.

“Of course, I did, sweetheart,” you kissed her head. “Come on, let's go home.” You groaned as Hailey still refused to let go.

“Actually,” she said. “Can we get ice cream?”

“Are you watching the videos again?” You looked away from your phone and saw Natasha stepping out of the bathroom, wearing an old training shirt of yours and sleeping shorts. You placed your phone on the nightstand.

“You know if we post those videos with sad music,” you sat at the edge of your bed, parting your legs so Natasha could stand between them. “We could go viral.”

“Oh really?” She questioned. You hummed, kissing her stomach through the cotton shirt, and rested your hands on the back of her thighs. Natasha used her pointer finger underneath your chin and forced you to look up at her. She traced the slope of your nose and the bags underneath your eyes.

“Were you telling Hailey the truth when you said you stopped the bad guys?” You grabbed her hand and kissed her palm.

“We did,” you whispered. You never spoke about what you did overseas. Some of the missions were classified and you didn’t want to haunt the dreams of your family. “But some civilians didn’t make it.” She nodded, kissing your forehead and leaving her lips there. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of her lips. “How long do we have until the girls come in?” She smirked.

“Not long enough so get your mind out of the gutter,” you pouted as she turned off the main light and you got into bed. “They’ll be at camp tomorrow and I’ll be all yours.” She said, settling in next to you and resting her head on your chest. You tightly wrapped your arms around her.

“I’ve missed this,” you whispered, taking a deep breath in her vanilla lotion. You felt her tears stain your shirt but you didn’t draw attention to them. You let her cry until you heard her quiet sniffles. It was your turn to lift her chin with your finger. “Do you want me to retire?” You asked. Her green eyes widened, a little red from her tears.

“You're too good at what you do,” she whispered. She was right in a way. You were an excellent marksman, hostage negotiator, and interrogator. But someone could replace you. Fury always had soldiers in mind to join the team. “You’ve saved so many people.”

“But I’m missing so much here,” you said against her lips. “I would need to do one more and I can be done with full benefits.”

“Okay,” she said, fully connecting your lips. You loved kissing Natasha. Her lips were soft and warm against yours.

“Okay,” you said. “I love you.”

“Love you more.”

When you woke up, Rose and Hailey were cuddled between you and Natasha. They were holding the Build-A-Bear stuffed animals you got them. You smiled, kissing both of their foreheads. Serving this country wasn’t worth missing. Your girls were your world. You needed to be home not across the sea in another country. “Mommy,” Rose mumbled.

“What’s up, baby?” She turned around to face you. Her eyes were barely open.

“I don’t want you to leave again,” she said, cuddling up against you. You closed your eyes, feeling tears swell.

“I know. One more,” you promised. “One more then I’m done.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #clint barton x laura barton #wanda maximoff x vision #marvel #Marvel AU #natasha romanov x you #natasha romanov x reader

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blackdollette · 1 year ago

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kinktober day 8.

10.15 - EDGING | OLLIE SWAY!

݁ ˖🕸️.𖥔 ݁ ˖ {tags} @willsdollface @bub0nic-plague @izuoyarmin @auggiethecreator @angelsanarchy @s-al-em @that-one-persons-posts @kashmirclam @areuirish @oliviah-25 @bl1ssfulbaby

previous: 10.13 - OVERSTIMULATION!

female!reader x subby!ollie

word count: 1.2k

contents: stalking, slightly subby ollie, blowjob, edging, cum eating

thunder and lightning struck from the skies above, rain nearly flooding the dark, empty streets. at the moment, you were stripped down to your lacy underwear, trying on slutty halloween costumes for an upcoming party. you opened your window just to take a quick peek, seeing that the storm was only getting heavier. you were convinced that nobody could be out there and survive, but then there was ollie with a hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

he had been hiding on your balcony for the past hour, watching your every move. this had become his nightly routine, but he had gotten lucky enough to catch you at a perfect time tonight. but his luck quickly ran out once the storm started, sending chills through his whole body. though he just couldn’t get himself away from the sight in front of him.

he was completely mesmerized by the way you moved, feeling like you were doing a little show just for him. he felt his body heating up as each minute passed, it growing to a point where he simply couldn’t resist shoving his hand down his pants and touching himself gently as he watched you. it was a shame that the rain had begun pouring just as he did so, but there was no turning back now.

he hid himself in such a way that you could only spot him if you looked hard enough, but he had the perfect view of you. drops of precum leaked from his tip, lubricating his hand as it slid up and down his length. his whimpers could just barely be heard over the heavy rainfall. he had gotten into his feelings too much to care what would happen to him at this point. he sped up his pace, his balls slapping the base of his each with each pump.

he held onto the wall for support as he felt his balls tightening up, cum just about to start shooting onto his hand. his breath hitched as he leaned against your glass window, hardly being protected from the rain. he was so close, his vision going blurry as the ecstatic feeling took his breath away. his eyes slammed shut as the band in his stomach was just about to snap.

at the worst possible time, you banged on the glass from the inside, your face contorted with annoyance. ollie jumped, the movement causing his cock to spring out of his hand. the desire in his body was instantly replaced with embarrassment, his flushed cheeks being a telltale. his mouth gaped open as he searched for the correct words to say.

you looked down, his bright red cock springing out at you. thunder clapped once more, making both of you flinch. you sighed, holding your head in your hands for a moment. “come on in. i’d hate for my favourite stalker to get sick out here.” your voice dripped with sarcasm, but it still warmed his heart that you were letting him in. he slipped his solid cock into his pants at an awkward angle, stepping into your room.

your scent hit his nose like a brick, a smell that he’d been addicted to for the longest time. your back was turned, giving him a perfect view of your ass. his cock strained again his pants even more than it already had been. you slipped on your silk robe before turning back to him. “you’re a real creep, y’know that?” you waved him to the bed, signalling him to sit down. he was still speechless, but he was starting to regain his composure. “s-sorry. your window was open so i thought i’d just… stop by.”

you rolled your eyes, joining him on the bed. his hard-on was extremely conspicuous. you could’ve sworn that it moved just now, but you didn't say a thing. instead, you moved down, setting yourself in between his legs, your elbows propped on the mattress. “that must feel pretty uncomfy, huh?” you ran a finger down his bulge, summoning a gasp from his lips.

you smiled at his reaction, wanting to toy with the way he was acting right now. you unbuttoned his pants swiftly, his cock instantly springing out at you. it glistened with precum, some already having ruined the inside of his pants. you brought your lips to the tip, peppering soft kisses onto it. he squirmed at the feeling of your touch, trying to keep himself from busting right there.

you blew on his length, just trying to get something out of him. liquid bubbled from the tip, dripping all the way down to your hand. the sticky substance created a foggy film over the entire thing. you didn’t even need to add any more moisture to the mix, he was all ready for you. you took a deep breath before waking the whole thing into your mouth, gagging as it hit the back of your throat and went onward.

he cried out, finally feeling the sense of relief that he’d been craving all this time. you kept your gaze on him the entire time, dragging complicated patterns onto his length with your tongue. his lips parted as quiet whispers slipped from them. you used a hand to massage his balls, his cock twitching in your mouth with this simple action.

he ran a hand through his hair, not taking his eyes off of you for a second. his body was trembling from how close he was to finally reaching his climax. strings of precum hit the back of your throat, the bitter taste making you lift your head up for a breath of air. he let out a frustrated whimper. his hips helplessly bucked into the air as he tried to chase his climax.

you moved your hand back to it, stroking it at a painfully slow pace and bringing him to that pre-climax state again, just to ruin his orgasm once again. he was nearly at the point of tears. “p-please, ‘m so close.” his voice came out as a shaky whisper. you simply batted your eyelashes and connected your lips to his dick again, kissing the tip while your hand worked on the rest.

his liquid painted your lips, creating a dripping mess that flowed down your chin all the way to your collarbone. he whimpered and whined every time you got him so close that he was seeing stars, just to bring him down. you had done this countless times. you started enjoying yourself after the fourth or fifth time, liking the sight of him becoming restless and needy.

his eyelids fluttered shut as the tingly buzz feeling filled his body. you were deepthroating his length at lightning speed, his body succumbing to your dominance. his legs shook underneath you as his eyes filled with tears. with a final flick of your tongue, he gripped the bedsheets, his back arching as he finally came all the way down your throat.

you coughed up a few bubbles, swallowing every last drop. you panted as you helped him tuck his finally softening length back into its home. you scooted up to the headboard, resting your back as ollie stood up and adjusted his clothing. he was about to let himself out, but you had one last thing to say. “next time, ollie, feel free to use the front door. it’s much more effective.” you smiled teasingly, allowing him to disappear into the night.

author's note: so sorry this came out so late yall, i got a little busy this weekend :(( hope you enjoyed this one tho. i sure did

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #ollie sway #the song of sway lake #october #kinktober #halloween #444rockstargf

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ryndicate · 2 years ago

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Hypothermic ⨳ Todoroki Touya

“Still thinkin’ about running?”

warnings: fem body/pronouns, zombie apoc au (ofc), assault, enemies to not quite enemies, gun mentions, choking, quirkless au (no scars), blood mentions, dry humping, make out, starts out dubcon as in he doesnt ask first but she doesnt tell him to stop, and a semi ungodly pov switch but let’s run with it

event: @medusashima’s Rise of the Dead collab! Click the link for similiar lovely works!

notes: thank you for being so accommodating of me Dusa!! this came right from my soul. Love how its somehow a zombie au fic with no direct contact with zombies but like.... it works. and im over the moon about it (himmm)

By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI

Blog Rules/DNI

The first thing Touya notices, besides the glaringly obvious there’s an intruder—is that somehow, you’re both pretty and don’t look like much. Pretty in a way that wiggles old thoughts into his brain, old from long gone time where’d hesitate to hurt a little thing like you. But there’s a more prominent, high prevailing relief that he’s confident he can, because he has to. Because of that stupid little ramen cup that you’re helping yourself to right now. Because there’s no way you’d have that right now now unless—unless…

The undead corpses on his front lawn had been his first clue to something being wrong. Shoto doesn’t leave the zombie fuckers to rot if he can help it, an annoyance Touya’s barked at plenty of times as a waste of time and energy, only for his words to be met with quiet disapproval. So to find four of the disgusting things still pouring putrid black and stenching up the frost on his front porch…well, it gave Touya reason to be cautious. Swallowing a burst of nostalgia, he quietly opens the kitchen window—the back door squeaks loud enough to wake the dead—and climbs through with perfect silence, a skill earned in a long forgotten world that had been nothing but a blessing in the world it had turned into. The slow movements it requires give his swirling panicking mind a moment to gauge all the what if's, but when he discovers that the person sitting in his house is not his little brother it's impossible not to come to a single grim conclusion.

That’s how he was lucky enough to get the drop on you, sitting in front of the makeshift fireplace in his beaten up living room, slurping up that ramen cup like it’s the only thing you’ve eaten in days—and given how his last run went, it’s pretty fucking likely that's how it is. Touya had already been in a pretty foul mood on his return to the safehouse, leaving to find the one thing they’re always running out of. And for the first time, he had nothing to fucking show for it. Clouds on the horizon sent him trekking home empty-handed. Scavengers fearing the approaching cold probably cleared everything out before he could get a look in. Everything they had left to eat, which wasn't much, he’d left with Shoto—who'd promised him that stupid instant ramen on his return. Said he'd save it for last. And damn it all if he couldn’t trust everything that came from his brother’s mouth, even in a world like this.

The seconds are dragging past in Touya's mind but he knows in real time you'll notice him any moment now. By luck or skill, you've survived this long, and that counts for something. He can't give you the benefit of the doubt. He’s got a gun, secured in the waist of his jeans, but it’s been out of bullets for ages now. It’s mainly been a deterrent for strangers, kept in vain hope that he finds more ammo one day. He’d use it now, if he wanted to scare you.

But he doesn’t. Touya’s past that now. His knife comes off his belt just as silently as he came through the window. Stepping quickly on the balls of his feet, Touya crosses the room towards you, and you react a mere breath before the blade finds a new home in your neck.

Your body twists, and his reach slashes too wide. Before he can redirect the arc you’ve got your hands braced on his arm, forcing it straight with a strength he couldn’t have expected from you. Touya snarls at the combination of anger and fear on your face. You have no right.

“The fuck’re you doing?” you growl at him through grit teeth. There’s evident strain in your voice so Touya doubles down and your wince sends a blistering satisfaction tearing through his body. When your grip weakens, he lets the blade fall and tackles you to the carpet.

You let out a muffled yell as your back hits the ground hard, and Touya is quick to plant himself over your center mass, hands bearing down on your throat. You buck and thrash, trying to dislodge his weight, movements limited as you try to block him from cutting off your air. Touya spits a curse down at you as your nails shred at his wrists and the back of his hands. It’s incredibly difficult to keep hold of you. You’re like a fucking animal, choking and wheezing and hissing and fucking growling at him as you fight him off. With ridiculous effort, you manage to shove one of his hands off and get leverage with your feet on the ground, using his own weight to send him in an ungainly tumble to the floor.

It’s startling how quickly you react after that, gasping for air and lunging for him, putting a fist in his gut. The force of it shoves air and spittle from his lungs and has him sucking in air desperately. He rolls away from you as you pounce at him again, your shoulder checking his chin and giving him the taste of blood in his mouth before he gets a solid shove at your chest, resulting in a moan of pain. There’s a brief pause as he staggers to his feet and he freezes as his eyes lock with the gun you now have pointed at him.

You seem to have frozen as well, joints locked and chest heaving.

After a long moment Touya scoffs. “What? You just gonna point the thing at m—”

The gun clicks; time shifts; Touya jerks.

There’s no gunshot, and your eyes fly wide in obvious fear. Time slows down just enough for him to realize that he recognizes that gun, patting his waistband. His eyes narrow, and you react, whipping the gun right at him.

Touya dodges and you turn and sprint from the living room. He lunges after you, skidding nimbly into the hall as you make a run for it. He grabs at the back your jacket, howling a curse as you jerk out of his grip, the material making an audible ripping sound and snagging at one of his nails instead, forcing him to falter. Blood wells up out of the cuticle and drips down his hand; Touya grips it tightly, hissing through his teeth and tearing after you again, catching up with you right as you start slamming a door on him. He gets his weight against the door and there’s a mad struggle as you both become opposing forces, but there’s a moment where he loses traction, the blood from his finger making his hand slide.

The door slams shut and Touya slams his fist against the wood as fury overtakes him.

“Where’s my brother, you fucking bitch!”

Fucker was carrying an empty gun!

You wildly look around the small space that you despairingly realize is a bathroom. The man is still pounding on the door, shouting, and shaking the handle. You have no idea what he’s talking about and you need a fix before he stops being pissed enough to figure out that a few solid kicks is all it would take to get through the flimsy wood. You rip down the grimy plastic shower curtain and twist it tightly around the handle, looping it through the towel bar above the sink, hosting a pair of decrepit floral washcloths that look like they haven’t been used since patient zero. You continue weaving the figure eight until you’re forced to tie it off as you run out of length. It’s not much, but it’ll buy you an extra minute or two if you’re lucky.

The handle creaks with one last aggravated twist. There’s a short silence that follows as you stare at the door, heart beating out of your chest. Then his voice filters through the door, a throaty rasp full of a rage that makes you quake with adrenaline and fear.

“Ain’t nowhere for you to go, lady. Get the fuck out here and maybe I won’t kill ‘ya.”

This not what you’d bargained for. “Like I’m gonna trust the guy who tried to stab me without so much as a hello.”

He chuckles, a soft sound that you’d find pretty if it weren’t for the way your skin breaks out in goosebumps that have nothing to do with the cold. “You want a hello? Come get one.”

Ignoring him—and the way your body tremors—you turn and start trying to peel away the board covering what must be a small window. If you’re lucky enough to get it off, maybe you can drop out through the window.

But after a solid half hour of tugging, scraping and peeling, and nothing more to show for it than torn and bloody fingernails, you admit defeat. Wincing, you carefully wipe away the blood on your jeans and listen to see if he’s still outside the door. It’s hard to tell anything over your thumping pulse in your own ears, but it sounds quiet.

It’s better not to risk it. You settle against the back of the tub and sit; if you wait long enough, he’ll pass out and you can slip out quietly. Moving quietly and disappearing is the only thing that’s kept you alive this far, especially after the last group you left. The last thing you want to do is be out at night, between the cold and poor visibility—that’s just asking to get killed. But no part of you can deny that facing that deranged stranger outside this door would be doing more than just asking.

Time passes slowly, painfully. Ever since the turn, dozing off idly became a thing of the past, something dangerous. You’re stuck being alert and aware of every little creak, every little sigh this house can produce. The wind tears around outside and your fingertips have become numb. It’s gotten much colder tonight that it has in the past few days, and you dig your arms from your sleeves into the body of your clothing in an attempt to keep warm.

A light tapping puts you on edge before you realize you’re shaking so hard that the buttons on your jacket are clacking against the floor. You clench your jaw. You have to try now; if you wait any longer it’ll be too cold to make it down the street, let alone how far you’ll need to get away from this place to feel comfortable ever again. Your joints protest as you stand as silently as you can, after sitting for so long. It’s much more painstaking to get the shower curtain from the door; it’s like trying to tiptoe with a windbreaker, but eventually you manage and crack the door open.

The house is dark, but even after a few moments no one shoves the door open, so pull it wider and peek out. There’s no sign of him. You step quietly out and feel your way down the wall, back towards the living room. There’s no chance you’ll get your pack back, not much in it besides clothes and water anyways, but you’ll have to make do. You inch into the kitchen where you remember seeing a backdoor, and gently turn the lock before pulling the door open. The hinges squeak so painfully loud that you suck in a breath, heart thudding in panic, but that’s not what has you frozen, shivering in the doorway.

What you heard from the bathroom floor wasn’t just wind, but a full blown snowstorm. It’s too early for snow, at least you’d thought, but here it is swirling so thick that you can’t see more than a couple of feet into the yard, and there’s already about a foot of snow. The moon highlights your breath getting swept away in the wind.

“Still thinkin’ about running?”

You shut the door and warily face him, not deigning to answer. The chances of making it more than a couple of blocks without freezing to death are slim. You can’t see much but his silhouette and a mess of pale hair, so it’s hard to make out what he’s thinking. All you know is that he hasn’t wrapped his hands around your neck yet.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t go pointing a gun at me again, and I won’t kill you tonight.”

“Try not to stab me then.”

You think he’s smiling. “No promises.”

Another shudder wracks through you and you try to tighten your jacket around your body. There’s a tear somewhere near the underarm seam—another reason why running is a terrible option.

“C’mon. It won’t last the night, but I’ve got a small fire going.” He turns his back on you, and you have no choice but to follow him. “Name’s Touya, by the way.”

The “fire” Touya’s got up is nothing but a few table legs crumbling into ember, but you have to admit it’s much warmer in here than it was in the bathroom. The soft light gives you your best look at him yet, and you notice he’s far more handsome than he should be. Hair a bright white, his skin is fair beneath the light grime, and he has piercing green, maybe blue eyes—it’s hard to tell in the flickering orange glow.

He glances at your raised eyebrow and scoffs. “Look, it’s all I had left. Shoto was supposed to be gathering wood while I was gone.”

You sit slowly a small distance away from him, as close to the fire as you can get. He tosses you a ratty blanket that had been hanging off the back of the couch. “Is Shoto your brother?”

He looks at you and scowls. “Yeah he is, and the only reason I haven’t come after you again is because I have no leads if you’re dead. I need you, if I’m gonna find out what happened to him.”

“Is that why you attacked me?” you ask him quietly. He’s throwing a couple of torn book covers into the embers, light flickering brighter as they catch and blaze. “You think I—”

“An eye for an eye,” Touya chuckles, his expression hardening into something devoid, something frightening.

“I didn’t kill your brother.” You tell him softly, wondering how you’re supposed to convince him when he’s already convinced himself. You have no idea who he is. He simply stares at you.

“Right.”

“Look when I got here, there were a bunch of zoms in the yard. I barely got past them, my knife broke in one of their heads. I figured the place was empty and needed somewhere to hole up. I never saw your brother, I swear.” Touya’s expression is still hard, but his eyes have begun to flicker with doubt. “Bet you went through my bag already. You know I don’t have any weapons. I’ve got no reason to lie.”

“Other than to save your own neck.”

“Isn’t that what we’re all trying to do?” You glare at him. “Look, if he was here, I would’ve asked him to let me in. I’ve never… I’ve never killed someone like that before.”

“Like what?” He looks at you now, eyebrows slackening at the tremble in your voice. “You were all too willing to pull the trigger on me.”

“Self-defense is different.” You look away, curling your legs to your chest. “I’ve never…murdered someone. I’ve seen it happen before, but I can’t. That’s why I’m so good at running.”

Touya stills, seemingly taking in your words, sifting through them like one would examine sand through a looking a glass. Finally, he sighs.

“He’s not dead.” You glance at him; that didn’t really seem like he was talking to you, so you let it rest in the air like that. His eyes shine in the dying fire before they flicker and pin themselves to you.

“So that’s why’re you alone, then? Couldn’t kill someone?”

Your lips twist into a frown, and you look away from him, resting your chin on your knees. Your mind is a swirl of blazing violet eyes, crimson full of rage, viridian vexed of indecision. “My last group was falling apart. Left before things got ugly, been on my own since.”

“How long ago was that?” Touya asks quietly.

You peek at him warily. “Long enough.”

He nods at you at that, grunting as he lays down and gets comfortable. You take that as his signal that conversation is over and follow suit, inching closer to the tiny flames that you vainly pray will last the night.

The night passes but sleep does not come for you, held at bay by memories that you wish would fade as quickly as the fire seems to, a deep cold settling over you as the embers turn to smoke. You pull the blanket tighter around you, now scared to sleep in case you don’t wake up.

“Well fuck,” Touya sighs, sitting up and leaning on his palms. You can hear his teeth chattering. With the fire gone you can’t see his face, there’s no lighting coming through the covered windows either. “Daylight’s still a few hours off. That sucks, ain’t nothing for it.”

“What?”

He rolls into your space and you try to scramble away from him, only for him to yank you to his chest and curl and arm around your back.

“You’re fucking insane.”

“No, I’m fucking freezing, and not interested in dying. You interested in dying? Or I don’t know, losing a few fingers and toes?”

You glare into his chest, clenching your jaw to keep your teeth from echoing his own chattering.

“That’s what I thought.”

After your racing heart settles, you hate to admit that it’s the only way. Wrapped up in his arms, tugged tight to his chest like this…it’s still cold, but an endurable kind of cold, the kind that has you worming your way closer to him to make it less uncomfortable.

“Don’t,” you warn him as you feel his cheek stretch into a grin against your temple.

“Alright, alright. Fine. Could make this nicer, you know. Just sayin’.”

Suspicion blooms in your chest at his cheeky attempt at charm. “What are you talking about?”

A growl tears up your throat as he rolls you onto your back, ready to shove him off but you tense in shock as he leans down and closes his lips on the spot right beneath your ear. You exhale sharply on instinct. You haven’t been touched like this since—you slam your mind closed on those thoughts and try to think through his tongue tracing over your pulse point.

“Wh– what are you doing?”

“‘M gonna make you warm,” he whispers, nosing up and nipping lightly at the shell of your ear.

“Holy fuck, you are crazy. I’m not sleeping with you,” you hiss sharply, trying to wiggle away from him.

Touya tosses his head back in a wry laugh. “Sweetheart, if you think I’m dropping my pants in a blizzard, you’re crazier than me.”

“Then, then wh—”

“Shut up and stop thinking for a minute, won’tcha?” Touya grumbles and lowers himself back towards you, capturing your lips and working your mouth open with a little rumble of approval when you relax back to the floor. One hand comes up to hold your cheek, fingers cradled around the back of your head and the way he groans into your mouth sends a heatwave of embarrassment and arousal crackling across your body.

He paws at your covered chest, something warm and hard digging into your thigh as he grinds against you, and you resist the insane urge to wrap your legs around his waist.

Like he’s reading your mind, long fingers dig into one of your thighs and hike it up, and you gasp into his mouth as he shifts and suddenly his clothed dick is pressed hard against your core.

“Oh, you ain’t so hard are you?” Touya chuckles as you bite his lower lip in retaliation. You can almost imagine his eyes flashing at you as he begins to grind against you in slow, controlled motions. Your clit throbs underneath the rub of denim, and you can feel yourself slowly soaking through the material of your panties. “Still fiesty though. ‘S nice.”

“Fuck you.”

Touya groans, fingers digging into your hips as if trying to pull you up into him. “Don’t make me think about that, darlin’”

“Not your darling.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep reminding me darlin’.”

He moans low and sweet into into your neck, suckling softly in one spot and continually moving to the next. It’s maddening and you keep shifting and rocking your body into to his, feeling pleasure unfurl in you so hot and deep, clit pulsing and sensitive, sparking until you’re sure it’s going to take you apart.

Touya stiffens, hips jumping before he grits his teeth and collapses gently over your chest, fists curled tight on either side of your head. The swirling ball of pleasure that had been moments from reach boils and begins to fade, leaving you gasping in frustration.

“Seriously, you’re stopping now?” you whine, squirming when he holds you in place.

“‘M not interest in finding out how fast my pants would freeze to my dick with spunk all twisted up in there,” he snarls under his breath, biting back the urge to keep rutting against your body. “Believe me, sweetheart. Blueballing myself is not the end goal here. Fuck. You’re warm now, yeah?”

You’re struggling to get your heavy breaths under control, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. You’re warm all over, but you don’t know how long that’s gonna last.

Touya grabs the ends of the blankets and makes sure they’re tucked around you both, shifting so that he’s no longer on top of you, but on his side next to you. “Then fucking sleep, okay? I know you haven’t yet. We’ll figure it out later. Deal?”

You snort. By figure it out, you wonder if he’s talking about the thing still twitching against your hip, or the whole mess of a situation. But either way, you’re heeding him. As the rush slowly drifts from your system, exhaustion takes over and you find yourself dead asleep, tucked under his arm.

#touya x reader #todoroki touya x reader #touya smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha smut #todoroki touya smut

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unmaskthewriter · 1 year ago

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Scars {John Marston x GN!Reader}

Summary: Unable to sleep, you begin to examine John’s scarred body.

A/N: a very short little blurb I wanted to write.

Warnings: bad memories, scars from violence, mentions of character death

Word Count: 500+

You lay in the large bed, the covers barely draped over your naked form. John lay beside you, fast asleep, his arm lazily draped along your bare hips. His breathing was calm, and steady.

The fireplace has long burned out, leaving a soft chill in the room. Through the drapes, the moonlight leaked into the room. Carefully, you turn to face John’s sleeping form. Your gaze travels his skin as your gentle fingers come to touch his bare chest, tracing over various scars and old bullet wounds now healed. Sometimes, he’d tell you the origin of a few of the scars. Having been a member of the gang for some time prior to its dissolution, you were aware of his marred cheek from the wolf attack in the Grizzlies, and the bullet wound in his upper arm from the last train robbery. Your fingers traced the different dips and grooves of each scar, almost admiring the story it would tell.

“What’re doing…?” John mumbled sleepily beside you, his eyes still closed. You didn’t mean to wake him due to your own insomnia, having since decided to distract yourself with his scars and what some would call imperfections.

“… ‘m sorry… couldn’t sleep.” You speak softly, your hand traveling upwards, past his neck to brush some loose strands of hair from his face. All of his scars, those memories — you wouldn’t be where you were without them. Sometimes, you wonder if the others were okay, even if they had gone against Arthur, John and yourself in the end. All those who died before the end came, perhaps they were the lucky ones.

Mac.

Davey.

Kieran.

Sean.

Hosea.

Lenny.

Molly.

Susan.

Arthur.

If it weren’t for Arthur and his sacrifice, you and John would have been caught by the Pinkertons, or killed.

It’s near impossible to forget the weeks and months following yours and John’s escape from Dutch van der Linde and the Pinkertons. That consistent fear of being figured out, and turned in, or somehow always feeling out of place even in towns you resided in or near before the gang’s fallout. The arm draped over your waist pulls you in closer as John buries his face in your neck.

“Coulda told me… stayed up with you.” He responded tiredly, still half asleep. His hot breath meets your neck and you shudder.

“Wasn’t worth waking you up over, love.” You whisper back. John worked hard to create a life for the both of you, a life that didn’t include gunslinging and robberies. Those days were long gone. Lazily, John places a kiss on your shoulder. As his chapped lips meet your soft skin, all worries melt away.

You try to imagine a future without John; a future where the left side of the bed is empty, and cold… a future where you are alone, barely surviving. You silently prayed the day would never come.

“I love you, John… I really do.” You speak softly, only to be met with snores. Smiling softly, you press a kiss to his temple and close your eyes, welcoming John’s warmth and comfort as you slowly fall back into dreams.

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #john marston #rdr2 spoilers #angst #fluff #red dead redemption #john marston x reader #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic

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fieldofdaisiies · 2 years ago

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Forget me Not | Azriel X F!Reader pt. 2

Summary: They loved each other more than words could describe, but they were star-crossed lovers and their fate was doomed, especially when their worst nightmare came true. But is their love strong enough to survive this nightmare and can their souls one day be truly united?

Warnings: references to past trauma

Word Count: 2,8K

Notes: I am so very lucky that I met @moonlightazriel and that I can call her my friend (mate hehe); you are an incredibly wonderful human being, an amazing friend and working with you on this story was just brilliant 💙 read her first part here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The doorbell rang again which made Azriel finally lift his head off the screen, his phone in his hand. “Give me a moment,” he told the person on the other side of the line and got up. With lazy steps he walked to his door, grumbling some incomprehensive words of being disturbed and interrupted while working. Azriel peeked through the door viewer, squinted his eyes to get a better look and then–

His hand which held the phone fell to his side and his lips parted. The woman standing outside his door was without doubt the most beautiful he had ever seen and he could even tell that although you were wearing a winter coat, gloves, and a hat. Azriel quickly lifted his phone to his ear. “I’ll call you back tomorrow. Just put the papers on my desk.”

He did not let his assistant argue, just ended the call. Azriel inhaled a deep breath, then another one, straightened his posture and moved his hand to the door handle. Then he opened the door and his eyes landed on you – finally he could take you in fully, his lips parted a little while his eyes went wide. Your gaze lifted to his – you had not at all expected him, your new boss, to look like that.

And then it struck you.

It somehow felt like you knew him, like you had seen him before which made no sense. You had only moved into this city recently, had never been to this there before, but something about him seemed oddly familiar. You simply looked at him for a moment, somehow expectant, but also because you forgot what you had wanted to say. He was so beautiful, the most beautiful man you had ever seen, and your brain forgot how to work. Eventually you caught yourself and realised that neither of you had said anything yet and you had to speak up at some point. After all you wanted this job – rather needed it. You had to speak up and act serious despite what his appearance and his looks did to you. You cleared your throat which drew Azriel’s eyes to yours, his lips forming a tiny smile. “I am Y/N Y/L. I am the new house keeper. I am filling in for Sophie who is on maternity leave now.” You spoke in a soft and steady voice, trying to calm the inner nervousness with taking in slow breaths.

The man, Azriel as you knew, nodded and said, “Pleasure to meet you. Azriel. I am the owner of this place.” His low voice rumbled through your body.

Azriel internally face-palmed himself – obviously he was the owner of this place, what else would he be doing here…

You chuckled a little and he let you in, you followed him inside and gaped at the size of his apartment. From Sohpie you knew that he was rich and that he lived in a big flat, but you had never thought it would be that ginormous. “Here, please. You can put your clothes here.” Azriel showed you the wardrobe, where you could put your coat and stuff. It was winter outside and you still shivered a little from the cold. “May I?” he asked and when you nodded, Azriel helped you out of your coat and then you pulled your hat off. Azriel couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, you were so beautiful and you–

You reminded him of someone. But he could not tell who. It was like he had met you before, and…he did not know. It was an odd feeling and got even odder when you slipped out of your gloves and his eyes fell to your hands. The marred skin there…The marred skin…He drew in a sharp breath and then…He had seen scars like that before, somehow he a had a clear picture of them in his mind and that irritated him.

“I was born with them. Probably inherited, or so the doctors said,” you explained, having noticed his eyes on your hands. He quickly lifted his face and looked into your eyes again, whispering a quick apology to which you lifted your hand, waving him off. “Don’t worry. It is alright. Now where do we, or rather I start?”

“Well.” Azriel brushed his hands down his thighs. “I would like for you to come here two times a week – Monday, Thursday, just like Sophie did. Did you discuss with her what you have to do?”

You shook your head, not really having talked with Sophie about that. She had only told you about how handsome Azriel was and that he was practically rolling in money – both things were now confirmed. Azriel guided you to the living room where you sat down on the couch to discuss further details. “Alright,” he said and smiled, his cheeks a little rosy. You looked at him expectantly and waited for him to continue.

“So, two times a week. I would love for you to do the basic chores. Cleaning the flat two times a week, I like it very neat and tidy, that is why. The windows need cleaning only once a month. I would like for you to change the bedsheets once a week, put out the trash once a week and wash my clothes once a week. That is it.”

That sounded alright. Even if it wasn’t the job your had on top of your list, it was the only one that worked alongside uni and so it was alright. It really was, especially with a boss that sounded genuine and looked like a Greek god. Well, the last part did not really matter but it was a nice benefit. “So I am starting today and then return next Monday,” you said and Azriel offered to show you the whole house and where exactly you had to do what.

The place was simple, he only had very basic furniture and little to no decoration, but still it was beautiful and you liked it a lot. Also the lack of decoration was very beneficial cleaning wise.

After your first day where you got all the explanations you returned to Azriel’s place for a few weeks every Monday and Thursday and all was going really well. Azriel was incredibly kind and you quickly created a friendly workplace relationship with him. There was nothing more between the two of you, of course not, just some nice small talks and easy conversations. It was all going good until one day.

You brushed your hand down the pillow, adjusting it a little, Azriel’s scent somehow lingering in the room. Your eyes lifted to mirror on the opposite side when you pulled on the sheets and made them look neat on top of his bed. And suddenly–

A flash of memories, or rather pictures filled your brain. Your knees felt weak and you closed your eyes, giving yourself to the memories. A man – not a man, Azriel– moaned against your as he relaxed on top of you, rolled over and pulled you to his side, your head rested on his chest. You could hear the soft sound of his heartbeat and then his lips parted and he–

“Give me a few days, and we will be far away from here. My love for you is bigger than the universe.”

You ripped your eyes open, tumbling a little and quickly grabbed the lower bedframe to steady yourself. Your heart was racing in your chest and you knew you had to get out of this room. What the hell had that been? Why did you…? When did you sleep with Azriel? What the actual hell was going on? The room you had been in was not modern, it had looked ancient and…Did you have sex fantasies about him? Maybe you should quit that job if making his bed did that to you?

You quickly collected the broom, and headed for the door, dashing outside and downstairs only to come to a quick halt.

“See and that is why I am here, Azriel. You need a woman to help you with that kind of things.” The blond woman grinned up at Azriel, just when you stopped at the bottom of the staircase.

“Oh, hello?” she turned to you. Not only her. Also Azriel’s, his eyes wide open. “Y/N,” he said, but added nothing more, like he was surprised to see you. Which was odd. It was Thursday. It was rather you who was surprised. He was home earlier, a lot earlier than expected and he had company. For the past days you had often asked yourself if he had a girlfriend, but there was no indication he did. Well, now there was and that made some part inside of you really sad. Which was stupid. Someone like him would anyways never be with someone like you. In society you were at least 5 levels below him and he would never choose you. He would never…Some more images filled your brain, and you felt a little dizzy.

You shuddered, your breathing speeding up and gathered that you might be going crazy.

“I don’t want to get married, to anyone but you. And I don’t care what my father says, let’s go, somewhere far away from here.”

Well, you definitely were going crazy. “Y/N, I am the house keeper. Pleasure to meet you. But I really need to go. I am in a rush. The bed is made. See you on Monday.”

You gave Azriel no chance to answer, practically dashing to the door, collecting your things while running. The cool afternoon air was a relief and helped your breath steadily. What the hell was going on? What did the memories mean?

Plagued by nightmares, you could barely sleep in the days that followed. It was too much and too strange. It irritated you and you dreaded going back to his place. You played with the thought of quitting, maybe it would be smart to stop working for him if it caused such chaos in your mind. But still you went there, hoping Azriel was still at work – which he normally was when you went there to clean on a Monday. And you truly were lucky, he was not here. So you started with the normal chores you had to do, cleaning, take the rubbish out and so on.

“Are you mad with me?”

You startled, the broom slipped out of your hand and landed on the ground with a loud noise.

“Why should I?” you blurted out and felt your blood chill. Obviously you were. Around 20 minutes ago you had heard Azriel return to his place, and since then you had been hiding in his bathroom, pretending to be cleaning there and hoping he would maybe just leave again.

“Because you obviously are, don’t pretend otherwise.” Azriel seemed angry and you knew the blame was on you. But how could you explain it all to him? How could you tell him that you had visions of a past life about him?

“I think I should go now,” you said with a huff. But Azriel had none of that, he wanted to talk it out with you, he wanted to know if he had upset you, or angered you. So he reached for you, his hand curling around your wrist, around the marred skin there.

“Please, please love, stay with me. I won't survive without you.” Azriel said, and you lifted your hand, the scarred skin caressing his cheek one more time. The scarred skin.

God!

Azriel let go off your hand and stumbled backwards, his eyes wide open with shock. He was pale, looked like he had seen a ghost and technically he had – the ghost of your past.

“It can’t be true,” he stuttered and stared at you with his eyes wide open. “That can’t be true.”

“What?” you breathed, panic filling you when you saw the shock on his face. “What is it?”

The shocked expression looked so familiar – it was the same you wore after those flashbacks. Azriel stumbled backwards and fell onto the small armchair outside of his bathroom. You left the bathroom and walked up to him, nearly closing the distance between the two of you. “Azriel. What is going on?” you asked carefully, hoping not to cause more chaos in his mind. He still looked like he got caught in a stupor and slowly brought one hand up to wipe it over his face. His chest heaved with deep inhales and slowly you moved your hand forward, placing it on top of his. You gave his hand a soft and gentle squeeze, crouching down in front of him, your eyes meeting his. “Did you…” Your voice broke after you tried to stutter out a question. He must have had the same odd visions, there is no other explanation for it. Your throat felt dry, burned, when you forced your mouth to speak.

“You think we have known each other in a past life?” The words sounded so odd and for a long moment they just hung in the air between you and Azriel, like neither of you could believe what you were discussing there.

Azriel furrowed his brows, still staring right into your eyes. “Can this be possible?”

Pulling one shoulder up, you shrugged, unable to do more. Tears filled your eyes and curled your fingers tighter around his hand.

“I love you and I will find you, in another life. We will have the happiness we deserve. Promise me you will wait for me.”

“You promised to find me in another life.” Azriel leaned forward, his other hand moving to hold your face in big palm. “I promised so. And you promised you will wait for me.” You swallowed around the dryness in your throat, leaning into his touch. “I did.”

There were tears in both your eyes, threatening to spill over the edges any moment. “You think it is truly possible we found each other again?”

It was then that a small tear left your eye. “But you have someone, Azriel. Is she your girlfriend?” Azriel seemed like he did not understand, like nothing you said made sense because he clearly had no girlfriend. “Who?” he asked in a low voice. “Who are you talking about?” But then awareness dawned on him and Azriel spoke up before you could. “That was my assistant. And she…I–”

“You seemed so close. And she said you needed a woman.” And then the most adorable thing happened – Azriel blushed, and sheepishly bit down on his lower lip. “I asked her for advice on how to ask you out. How to not make it weird as you work for me…” He smiled a little, red colour blooming high on his cheeks.

Your heart did flips, rapidly beating against your rib cage. “You did…” “I wanted to ask you out. I have been wanting to ask you out for a long time, but then things changed.”

“I am sorry,” you answered. You slowly got up, standing in front of Azriel. “I am sorry, but when I got the flashbacks, I freaked out. I did not know what they meant. They scared me. I thought I was going insane.”

Azriel closed his eyes for a long moment and inhaled deeply. “Is there a chance for us in this life then? Can I ask you out?” When he opened his eyes, a beautiful smile bloomed on his chest. More tears streamed down your cheeks and leaned in to just hug him. But Azriel had a different idea. He pulled you onto his lap, so you straddled him and your arms curled around his shoulders. “Can you believe that we really lived a long time ago and finally found each other again?” you cried into the crook of his neck, clawing at him.

“It seems surreal, doesn’t it?” Azriel held you tightly, kissing the side of your head. “Like that can only happen in books or movies.”

“I believe then this is my absolute favourite book or movie.” Leaning backwards a little, you watched his face, the expression on his face. “Can you believe how long our souls must have been yearning for each other? And now they are reunited?”

“And won’t ever be separated.” Tears also slid down Azriel’s cheeks, his whole body shaking, but he grinned at you. And you grinned back at him. “In this life I am going to keep you safe. I have awful brothers and an even worse stepmother, but not even they would go as far as taking you from me. In this life I am going to keep you. We will be one team, one couple, one soul until our very last day. Just you and I.”

“I like that a lot,” you said, smiling when you leaned in to kiss his lips. “And I am keeping you safe. And I am going to keep you. It will be us forever.” “Forever and even a little further.” And then you kissed, and it felt like…it felt like a million fireworks exploded in your chest, like your soul started to glow and become alive again.

~~~~~~~~ tags Azriel (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @banasheefan56

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar #acosf

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dawn-moths · 2 years ago

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“Scarlet & Serenity”

Tomura Shigaraki x Female Reader

word count: 11,800+

(Tomura’s never been one to celebrate birthdays, especially his own. But you’re insistent on making sure he has a good day, wanting to do a few things for him that could mark the occasion as special. Although he’s resistant to the idea at first, he slowly begins to come around, and at the end of the day, whether he’ll admit it out loud or not, it’s a birthday that he’ll always remember.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! mostly fluff with some smut at the end, aftercare, soft Tomura, established relationship, reference to past sexual harassment in the workplace, mentions of stealing to survive.

*ao3 mirror*

***

Serenity.

Like feeling the gentle weight of sleep settle over you after a long day, body swaddled in warm blankets and mind sated by the slow drip of oncoming unconsciousness.

Like laying under a sky full of stars and suddenly feeling so insignificant, like, as a tiny spec in the universe, maybe the problems you thought you had weren’t so bad after all.

That’s what you felt like to him.

Or rather, that’s how he felt being around you.

It was your quirk, not you, you were constantly reminding yourself of whenever the two of you got a little too close for a little too long. Serenity was the name of your quirk, and it did just as its title implied.

For anyone within a five foot range of you, no matter how they were feeling or what they were going through, if they stayed within your invisible bubble, all they would feel was a sense of overwhelming calm.

Some people had told you it felt a little like being high, easy to become addicted to if you didn’t set boundaries with certain individuals, while others compared it to the safest sensation they’ve ever known, reminded of how they remember being held and comforted by their mothers if they’d been lucky to have a good enough relationship with them.

Tomura had cued into your quirk almost instantly, back when you two had first crossed paths. For someone that was always on edge, whether from the itching or the intense, paranoid focus he needed to carry out the League’s plans, the moment he passed you on the street and felt that weight lift, it had almost brought him to his knees, exhausted by the phantom that clung to him, unable to shake it off no matter how hard he tried.

Until you.

Things had moved pretty quickly after that and, in some ways, over the past couple years you’d convinced yourself that it was all probably meant to be. You’d been pretty down on your luck right before you encountered him, so when he’d invited you to join the League— to belong to a family of misfits who’d been forgotten or cast out by society just like you— well…

It hadn’t been a hard decision to make.

And you fit in here, with the League. You fit in with the mishmash of personalities and tragic pasts and quirks that, in another life or different hands, might’ve been deemed good instead of evil.

Your quirk, of course, was a lot easier to lend itself to the heroes who romped like celebrities about the streets and, while you might not’ve been able to go pro with it, at one point in your life you’d seriously considered using it to help people, like going to work for a hospital in the ICU, sitting bedside by the floor’s worst patients, subduing their agony even if only temporarily.

But that had all changed when you’d lost your job, your boss firing you after you’d rejected his rather forward attempts to get a little closer to your quirk.

But, surprisingly, that time it hadn’t even really been about your quirk, you’d later come to find. He’d just been a creep who wanted to get close to you or any of the other young new interns, as if he wasn’t already handsy with most of the women in the company.

Part of you was glad to leave that place, but after he’d made a false report that you’d used your quirk on him to get yourself a raise— the very same raise he’d tried to use as the trade off for letting him sleep with you— comparing what you were capable of to mind control, there was a black mark on your reputation and your resume for any other job you’d tried to apply for after.

You’d lost your nice apartment on the safer side of the city, but even after your move to a cheaper, dingier place, month after month passed with no way to pay the bills. Eventually, when you started receiving notices threatening to turn off your heating and water, you’d been forced to turn to your last resort.

If they wanted to paint you as a villain, then you’d become one.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t used your quirk’s effect on people to get what you wanted before, though it was still a far cry from “mind control” as your previous boss had testified, so convincing night shift cashiers at local convenience stores to let you walk out with arms full of food and supplies you’d sweet talked them into believing you didn’t need to pay for became your regular method of survival.

What you’d been guilty of before joining the League was kindergarten compared to pretty much all of the other members, and Tomura had tried to keep you away from the brunt of the violence and the bloodshed. He liked to make sure you were kept safe and ready to help ease his mind the moment he returned to the hideout, falling into your arms battered and bruised and not getting up until you either convinced him to let you clean his wounds or he fell asleep and you carefully shifted him onto his back on the mattress you two shared more nights than not. You’d go clean yourself up, sometimes tending to a few of his more minor injuries while he slept before curling into his side and letting your energy invade his dreams.

Though, Tomura had told you before, when he slept next to you he didn’t dream. It was the best he could hope for, as most nights before you he’d been plagued by vicious, gruesome nightmares. Horrible memories that repeated themselves over and over and over again in a tortuous loop. He would be awoken by them with a sudden, panicked jolt, though usually he couldn’t even recall the dreams until he was plunged back into them again.

So, yeah. You’d become a regular occurrence in all the members’ lives. But everyone knew that you did far more for Tomura than you did for anyone else. No one would say it, but everyone knew that you might be the only weakness their leader had, a crutch that, if taken away, could spell catastrophe for all of them. Meanwhile, it was a theory that you and Tomura tried to ignore, acting like there was nothing special between you two and just living day by day.

***

“Hey…” You greeted Tomura with a crooked smile as he walked into the bar. It was past noon, but he was usually a late sleeper. Especially since he tended to stay up till the early hours of the morning, whether by getting sucked into some new game or tossing and turning through the night. Most times you slept in with him, slowly but surely having fallen into his sleeping schedule the more time you spent together, but today you’d risen early (as in an hour ago, just moments before AM switched to PM) in order to begin preparations for a very special surprise.

“Hey…” Tomura returned the greeting, his voice a little raspier than usual. He cleared his throat and gave his neck a few light scratches, trying to pull his hoodie higher to hide the deeper, redder tracks that he’d etched into his skin when he’d woken up to find the space in bed next to him empty. “What’re you doing?”

You tried to hide the beaming grin you felt your face wanting to make. You were never a great liar, but even so you replied with a slightly lilting, “Nothing…” as he approached you, letting out a quiet hum when his hands took careful purchase on your hips and pulled you closer to him, nuzzling his face in your hair and allowing himself to linger in your calmness until the anxiousness that crawled beneath his skin subsided.

You let him hold you like that for as long as he wanted. Always. You knew how much he needed it, and for someone who felt like you did the least for the League as a whole, you took how much you knew you did for Tomura individually as your consolation for that fact. Besides, without the leader, what was the League?

Tomura mumbled something into your hair, and you looked up at him and asked through a breathy chuckle, “What?”

“I said, what’s all this?” He repeated, only putting enough distance between you two so he could look you in the eyes, his arms still encircling your waist. He nodded his head towards the back counter of the bar, glancing at the opaque plastic bags that sat there.

“Oh…” you rolled your eyes, cracking a wider smile, “That…” Then you narrowed your gaze at him, mischievous. “That’s a secret.”

Tomura’s chapped lips curved up into his own brand of mischief, his three fingered grip flexing slightly on your hips. “C’mon,” he tried to pry, giving you a light shake, more of a sway, really. “You know I hate surprises.”

Now it was your turn to eye the bags, knowing full well what was inside. You’d worked hard to steal each and every one of the items over the past few weeks, after all.

“It’s not a surprise,” you corrected, nuzzling your head back into his chest, taking in the familiar scent of him— the scent that had slowly become your own. “At least, not if you know what day it is today.”

Tomura’s sparse brows pinched slightly as he tried to decipher your words. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked at a calendar or even bothered to check the date on his phone. He was pretty sure it was about to be April. Or, wait, maybe it already was…

He let out a sigh caught halfway between despondency and annoyance, shifting to lean his back against one of the counters, pulling you along with him and nearly causing you to stumble. “Shit…” he droned, throwing his head back a little while wearing a look that was blatantly unamused. “Don’t tell me this is about—”

“It’s about doing something nice for you,” you cut him off, already having gotten the sense Tomura wouldn’t be very receptive to anyone— even if it was you— celebrating his birthday. Hell, he didn’t even want the day acknowledged.

You knew this, and yet, you couldn’t help but try.

“How’d you find out?” he asked, staying still and letting you clasp your hands behind his neck, shifting some of your weight back onto your heels and tugging him forward an inch or two.

It was Toga. Obviously, it was Toga, though you had no idea the method she’d used to discover the birthday of the most feared villain in Japan. On second thought, for all you knew, it might’ve been just as easy as Googling it.

“Not telling,” you sung out, voice still low and playful, raising yourself onto your tippy toes for a second to plant a quick peck on his cheek before parting from his grasp and circling back around to the bags on the bar counter, peeking inside to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything. “But I do have a few little things planned for you, so stop sulking and just humor me, alright.”

When you turned to face him once more, Tomura stood with his arms crossed, staring you down with silent interrogation.

“Oh, come on,” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms to mirror him. “It’s only one day out of the entire year. It’ll be fun.” You flashed another one of those quick, fleeting smirks, still trying to contain your excitement, despite the fact that it wasn’t rubbing off on Tomura the same way your Serenity did. “Trust me.”

“Whatever you say…” he sighed, pushing off from where he was leaning and beginning to pad out the way he came with bare feet against the cold, unswept floor. “But this is just another day for me. Birthdays are a pointless tradition anyway. I never even liked them, so don’t expect me to start caring now.”

“Tomura—” He was already halfway to the doorway.

Cutting you off and swiveling on one heel, pointing a finger at you, he accusingly ordered, “And no singing. No cake either.”

You were captured in a moment of shock, but then found yourself again as you placed your hands on your hips and smirked, cynically joking in a deadpan tone, “Oh, but what do I tell the barbershop quartet that’s delivering the three tier cake in an hour? They’ll be so disappointed.”

Tomura turned the corner, disappearing out of sight, but called back from down the hall. “No singing! I mean it!”

In response, all you called back was, “Ok! But I’ll be coming to find you in an hour regardless! So don’t come out here until then, alright!” He didn’t respond, but when you heard the click of the bathroom door shutting and the hiss of the shower turning on, you figured you better get to work.

He’d come around, eventually. Because, sure, there wasn’t a cake to eat or presents to open, but you were still determined to gift Tomura a day that was above average, at the very least.

You hauled the bags off the counter and around the corner into the tiny side kitchen, dumping one of them over and catching the ingredients that almost rolled off the table before setting everything out and taking stock of your supply. There had only been one spice you hadn’t been able to procure, but it wasn’t make or break when it came to preparing the dish you had in mind.

Honestly, you just hoped you remembered how to make it. It had been your childhood favorite, something your mom used to make you every year on your birthday. You hoped Tomura would like it too. It wasn’t very often he— or really any of you, for that matter— got to enjoy a nice, home cooked meal. If there ended up being enough, you’d leave some for the other League members to pick at or fight over. But for now, you had to see if you could find anything that resembled a measuring cup. If you couldn’t, this whole thing could end up turning into a disaster.

***

Two years ago, while walking home late at night from your latest convenience store run (read: robbery), you’d noticed a little too late that a strange shadow had fallen in step with your own.

Throughout your life, you’d often found it ironic that, while your quirk gave those around you a sense of calm, the aura didn’t extend to yourself.

You wished it would, especially in times like these when your heart began to race and anxiety began to creep in, slowly flooding you to the point you’d be drowning in it. It wasn’t like that was the first time some weirdo had tried to follow you, but there was something about the wary atmosphere that time that had struck you as different from the others.

You were used to people wanting to use your quirk for their own benefit, not so much regard for you as a person so long as they could feel the high of relief that came from being in your proximity. There was usually a lot of convincing and pressuring and guilt tripping when people tried to request your quirk’s services, as if you owed them somehow despite most of them not even knowing your first name. But that time, it felt more dire. Like, if whoever was trailing you didn’t reach you fast enough they might die. So you did what you always did when something like that happened.

You used your secret weapon.

Used to traveling through the maze of back alleys, you knew the twists and turns by heart. You knew which ones were shortcuts and which ones held dead ends and which ones you’d stashed weapons down.

You also knew which ones would greet you with escape routes.

So you took a sharp left turn, then a right, and then, standing amidst a brick barrier on three sides, the fourth now blocked by a lanky, hooded silhouette, you turned to face him.

The first time you’d seen Tomura, you hadn’t felt threatened, weirdly enough. And maybe it was because you didn’t yet know the real danger he posed, or who he really was. Or maybe it was the fact that you could see pain and desperation shining in his eyes, pleading for even just one more second of ease from what it felt like to live in his skin on the daily that he’d been granted for the fleeting moment you two had crossed paths on the street.

“What do you want?” you’d asked, and, if he hadn’t been so distracted from chasing that feeling of peace, he might’ve found it a little odd that your voice was void of any trembling trepidation. You’d sounded sure of yourself, like, despite your odds, you held the upper hand here.

And you did, you knew. Because behind the rusted old dumpster pushed against the wall a few feet behind you, there was a perfectly you-sized hole that led into the abandoned shopping center that composed part of this maze. You’d be able to slip through and disappear within a matter of seconds. Y’know, so long as the guy standing before you didn’t have some kind of teleportation quirk.

Tomura hadn’t quite known what to say, honestly. He’d honed in on you and now that he nearly had you, for once he didn’t know what to do with himself. He could take you by force, he figured, but the closer he got to you the more he started to think maybe that wouldn’t be the best approach.

Just barely skirting on the edge of your quirk’s five foot range, he felt his hammering heartbeat begin to slow and his uneven breathing smooth out. He felt his shoulders sag and the usual race-around skin crawling that ate away at him endlessly from the inside out subside.

He looked straight into your eyes and asked, “Who are you?”

With your posture now rigid and ready to run, you replied with hostility, too confident for your own good, “More trouble than I’m worth, if you try anything.”

Tomura took another shuffling step forward which caused you to take two steps back, like a magnet pushed away by a similar pole.

“Wait—” His raspy voice cut through the cold, quiet night air, giving you pause as you prepared to whirl on your heel and dart into the escape route. “This feeling… It’s your quirk, isn’t it?” You remained silent that time, half of you intrigued by him, catching a glimpse of those big, red eyes from between all that pale, fluffy hair that was half illuminated by the silvery moonlight. Meanwhile, the rest of your better judgment just screamed at you to run, run, run.

“And what if it is?” you answered, a disgruntled tightness to your tone, tired of being used by strangers for something that you had no control over and couldn’t even reap the benefits from. You felt like your body belonged to everyone else but you sometimes. You weren’t about to let another person— especially someone who’d been brazen enough to stalk you— take what they wanted for free.

Tomura took one more cautious step forward, putting himself back into the radius of your aura, and tugged down his hood, giving you a better look at him, at the scars and the scaly, dry patches around his eyes and forehead, the angry red scratch tracks scored into his neck. He said, “How much?” and for a moment you’d thought you hadn’t heard him right.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“For your quirk,” he clarified. “How much for you to…” he chose his next words very carefully. “How much for you to lend it to me?”

You shot him a scowl and a skeptical squint. “Lend it to you?” you repeated, sounding almost offended. “Look, buddy, I’m not for sale. So why don’t you just hurry along before—”

“I saw you rob that store,” he leveraged, threatened, somewhere between the two. “You’re down on cash, yeah? Well, maybe we can reach some kind of…” His hands fidgeted from where they were tucked inside his hoodie pocket, putting you on higher alert and causing you to flinch closer towards the hole in the wall. Then he sighed, seeming to grow frustrated with himself, and simply stated, “Just give me five minutes. Name your price, and I’ll pay it. Only five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

Similar to being followed, this also wasn’t the first time someone had tried to hire you for your quirk. If you really needed the money and the stranger didn’t seem too sketchy, you’d usually take the offer. But those deals were made by daylight, in public, usually sitting beside them on a park bench or walking with them through the city where, if they tried anything, there would be witnesses.

Here, in the middle of the night alone in a vacant alley, you thought to accept the deal would be a poor business decision. Besides, money wouldn’t be worth very much to you if you were dead.

But he was right. You needed money. You knew each store you robbed would only let it go unnoticed for so long, and even as the night-shifter manning the register would inevitably fall for the lull of Serenity and your meticulously practiced sweet-talking, once the effect wore off and their boss chewed them out for letting some random girl walk out without paying time after time, well…

Previous mishaps had made you make a rule that you’d only hit each store twice before moving onto a new one for a reason.

You were running out of chances and out of local konbinis to steal from, so you figured it was now or never. Plus, it’s not like you couldn’t pull the knife you kept on you and bolt if this guy tried to get a little too handsy. His blood would hardly be the first the blade had tasted and you were faster than you looked.

“Forty-thousand,” you said, part of you thinking there was no way this guy had that kind of money while the other half of you hoped against hope that somehow he did. “Forty-thousand yen for five minutes and you have yourself a deal.”

The mysterious stranger then said he had to step away to make a quick phone call, not even attempting to negotiate a lower price, which made you wish you’d asked for more, and within the minute he was back, rounding the corner with a duffle bag in hand.

Tomura dropped it with a satisfying thud on the pavement before you and it was then you couldn’t hide your shock and confusion any longer. You told him to step back while you checked it, and upon kneeling down to unzip the bag, you were met with the colorful array of bundles and bundles of yen notes.

You didn’t bother counting it. Even if this wasn’t forty-thousand, it was still more than enough for you to live on for the next couple of months. It even made you consider letting this guy be a repeat customer, if he came searching for your services again. But, on the other hand, you doubted anyone who could fork over this much cash at a moment’s notice could be the upstanding citizen type.

It’s not like you were either. You were just trying to convince yourself that stealing to survive and stealing for luxury were on two different planes. But cash was cash. And everything cost money. And it turned out it was true when they said that everyone has a price.

“Just stay back,” you ordered, Tomura beginning to reapproach once you’d slung the heavy bag over your shoulder. “You can just stay right there and the effect will be the same. I’m going to keep time. And after five minutes if you try anything I’ll—”

“Be more trouble than you’re worth,” he repeated your earlier warning, a slight, dare you call it charming smirk appearing at the corner of his cracked lips for a moment. “Don’t worry. I got it the first time.”

And so, as the most wanted villain in Japan stood five feet away from you, your eyes darted from the timer on your phone back to his face over and over again until his five minutes were up.

“That’s it,” you announced once the countdown reached zero. “Time’s up.”

And, just as promised, Tomura abided by the deal that had been made. However reluctantly, he stepped back and out of your quirk’s range, the weight of his crumbling world visibly settling heavily back on his shoulders with the way he flinched and tensed and began to scrape at his scabbed-over neck again lightly. The biggest surprise was that he didn’t demand more from you.

After that, you bid him farewell, wanting to make sure he exited the alley before you slipped in through the secret tunnel, and the only thing he said to you before leaving was an almost prideful, “Next time, ask for more.”

You must’ve stood at the end of that alley for ten more minutes, staring down into the darkness until the weight of the bag slung over your shoulder began to ache and you blinked out of your trance.

Finally, you just whispered a perplexed, “What the fuck…?” to yourself and then slipped in through the hole in the wall, clutching the duffle bag the entire way home.

***

“So this is the special surprise, huh?” Tomura said after you instructed him to take a seat at the tiny, two person table. He was trying to lay the mockery on thick, you noticed. Deep down though, you knew he was, at the very least, extremely curious as to what you’d managed to make. And, if the smell coming from the biggest cooking pot you could find over the rusty old stove was anything to go by, it was going to be good.

“Your food will be ready momentarily, Sir,” you said in an overly-sweet, fake waitressing voice, procuring two mismatching bowls and spoons from the limited kitchen supplies and scooping a serving for each of you. Then, back to your normal tone as you turned to face him, a bowl in each hand, you said with only slight disappointment, “There’s supposed to be this really good homemade bread, too, but I didn’t have time to bake it…”

Setting the soup in front of him before taking your seat across with your own food cradled between your hands, palms warmed by the bowl and heart warmed from good childhood memories, you watched and anticipated what you hoped would be a good reaction once Tomura tasted the first bite.

He knew you were eagerly waiting, taking this moment of suspense to tease you a little bit. “I dunno about this…” he said, grimacing a little as he poked around the contents with the edge of the spoon. “It looks kinda…”

Your eyes widened, suddenly horrified, thinking you’d already fucked up somehow. “What?” You stood from the table, tried to lean in to see over his bowl. “What is it? Is there—?” When you caught the prideful mischief on his face, you plopped back down into your rickety chair and gave a sarcastic, “Oh, ha ha…”

Then you took up your own spoon and had a taste for yourself. It was exactly as you remembered, aside from that little hint of spice it was missing and that crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside home baked bread. If you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine you were back in your mom’s kitchen, dappled sunlight streaming in and dancing across the hardwood floor.

Your satisfaction with your hard work must’ve shown on your face, because Tomura scoffed out an almost disbelieving, “That good, huh?” before finally trying the soup for himself. “Damn…” he muttered under his breath, all previous derision faded to the soft contentment that usually filled him when snuggled up close to your quirk. He met your eyes for only a moment, but that was all you needed to tell. The gratitude was there, no matter how hard he wanted to hide it.

“Told you it was gonna be special,” you said, intertwining your ankles with his under the table.

Tomura let out a quiet chuckle, swallowing the next spoonful before saying, “You shouldn’t have let me know you could cook like this. Now I’m gonna want it all the time.”

“Well maybe next year if you don’t put up such a fight then you’ll even get to try the bread too,” you joked, smiling at him with the spoon still in your mouth. He nudged your calf with his foot and you knew that was as close as you were going to get for a thank you from him. But it was enough. It was enough.

“So…” Tomura began again, trying to keep himself from wolfing the whole bowl down in one go, though as you two traded some banter and chatter between bites you’d made sure to remind him there was plenty left if he wanted more. “What about you?” he asked. “I’m guessing your birthday’s were pretty good, if this is what you got, huh?”

“I have a few I can still remember pretty well,” you admitted, searching your mind for the memories of your old life, of a little girl who didn’t yet know of hardship or pain. “But the older I got, I dunno…” You gave him a guilty look, concluding with a slightly shaky, “I guess I can’t fault you for looking at it as just another day. Especially if you’re spending that day alone.”

The narrow room fell silent for a while then, the pair of you finishing the soup with only the sound of slurping and the spoons clinking against the bowls as you both tried to catch every last drop that gathered at the bottom. Then Tomura said, “I’m gonna get you back for this you know,” which caused you to give him a confused and maybe even slightly startled look from across the small table.

“What…?” You asked when his smile— one you couldn’t tell if it was cruel or teasing— didn’t falter.

“When your special day comes around,” he clarified with a sly raise of his eyebrows. “I’m gonna get you back for this.” Now you wore a real smile. You couldn’t help but become curious about what kinds of surprises he’d plan for you, and suddenly you were looking forward to your next birthday more than you had in years.

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” you remarked, playfully pointing your spoon at him. He told you not to expect any home cooked meals though. In return, you pointed out that he could barely make a piece of toast on his own, forget about pulling off something with multiple ingredients.

“Shut up,” he chuckled, standing from the table and heading over to the pot on the stove, serving himself another full bowl before peering over his shoulder and asking if you wanted more as well. You held out your bowl for him to take and let him scoop some more in for you, every bite even better than the last somehow.

And so the two of you sat there and talked and ate until you were both full and feeling a little sleepy. With the added element of your calming quirk, Tomura could’ve probably dozed off right at the table, but there would be plenty of time to rest later. For now, you still had half a day left to ensure his birthday was a memorable one.

“Ok, so I lied earlier when I said there weren’t any surprises,” you admitted as you placed both your empty bowls in the sink. “There is one teeny, tiny present I might’ve been able to get my hands on.”

Tomura was back in your orbit again, never leaving the pull of Serenity’s gravity for very long, whenever you were around. He stood behind you, circling his arms around your middle and hugging you close to him. “Yeah…?” he whispered, voice sounding like he was drifting off into a dream. “Well what if I told you my present’s right here?”

***

Two weeks after that first night, you saw him again. Only, this time, it was prearranged and he’d paid you in advance.

You met him at your favorite cafe, one in the part of town you used to live in. Y’know, back when you’d had a real job and a nice apartment instead of an old, drafty one and dreamed of helping people rather than robbing them.

“Here, let me,” Tomura offered as you approached the counter to pay for your order. You just gave him a slightly skeptical look, but didn’t protest as you stepped aside and let him thumb through some crumpled cash he pulled out from his back pocket before handing it to the barista. You two remained mostly silent as you stood side by side and waited for your drinks to be made. You were tongue tied because you felt a little awkward, but Tomura was just quietly enjoying the effects of your quirk from a foot away.

You were fine with him being closer this time, since there were other people around.

“So…” You began once you two were seated across from each other, warming your hands on the hot beverage nestled between your palms while he kept a three fingered grip around his paper cup. “Do you wanna talk or you just wanna stay silent the whole time?”

Tomura perked up a bit then, eyes widening a fraction as if he��d just remembered something important. “Oh…” He cleared his throat, took a cautious sip of his coffee. “I mean, whatever you usually do is fine.”

As you sampled your own drink, you considered him with more of that wary skepticism, eyes squinted as if trying to blur his edges and unveil some hidden image amidst all that scarred, alabaster skin and silvery hair falling into his eyes.

“I dunno… It sort of just depends on the customer,” you shrugged, absentmindedly picking at the frayed edge of the cardboard cup holder as you chewed on the inside of your cheek. “But I guess we could talk, if you want…”

As you both took another uncomfortable sip of your drinks, avoiding direct eye contact, you were starting to fear this might become the longest hour of your life. But then Tomura spoke up, asking, “So, what are you into?” and for a moment you weren’t quite sure how to answer that.

“You mean, like, hobbies and stuff?” you clarified.

“Sure,” he gave a tired half shrug and elaborated, “Hobbies, music, movies, whatever.”

You took a second to conjure up the topics you wanted to divulge to him, then listed off a few of your favorite bands and a couple good documentaries you’d seen recently. Eventually, you turned the question to him and mostly gleaned that he loved video games. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up as he spoke about various RPGs and MMOs and all sorts of other terminology you’d only had a little experience in grasping.

But you were relieved that, once you guys got onto his favorite topic, he did most of the talking and the hour passed fast. When it was time for you to go you thanked him for spotting your drink, wished him a good day, and were about to be done with the exchange until Tomura caught the edge of your sleeve, the fabric pinched lightly between his two fingers, and he asked in an urgent, almost pleading way, “When can I see you again?”

You let a few beats pass before exhaling the breath you’d been holding in, already wondering if you were going to regret this before the words even left your mouth. Then you said, “If you’re willing to keep paying this much, then you can see me whenever you want.”

Tomura looked taken aback, as if he hadn’t considered that possibility, and as you tugged free of his grasp on your sleeve, you added on, “Same place and time next week, if that works for you?”

He seemed to search his mind for a moment before giving a satisfied nod and a quiet, “Yeah…”

And so your regular meetings with him began. Every week— sometimes a couple days in a row if you both were free— one hour at the cafe around noon, the new rate of sixty five-thousand yen in cash each time paid in advance.

At least, that’s how things went for the first few months.

***

Standing in the middle of the small kitchen, Tomura was almost unrecognizable when he was like this, peppering tender kisses from the crown of your head to the apple of your cheeks, across your jaw and down your neck.

At least, he’d be unrecognizable to anyone that wasn’t you.

That’s why he usually sought out Serenity in private, behind some closed door or when no one else was occupying the hideout. You two had never talked about it, but he knew you’d noticed.

That didn’t mean he was afraid to stand close to you during meetings or that the others weren’t aware of your unique relationship, but still. To openly express just how much he wanted you— needed you…

That had been a terrifying realization back when it had first occurred to him. He’d tried to push it down, push it down, push it down for as long as he could, smother any semblance of positive emotion that dared spark itself inside of him. Because he knew what would happen if he let it take kindling and catch flame. It would consume him. Body and mind and soul.

Some days he wondered if it already had, if the wildfire of your presence had already scorched him from the inside out like Dabi’s quirk was in the process of doing to his body every single day. Others, Tomura forced himself to douse his feelings for you in ice water, to take a step back and separate the effects of your quirk for which he so often sought you out for from you as a person.

It could all get so confusing, causing him to spiral into bouts of anger or anxiety and end up coming back to you just to calm it all down like withdrawal from a powerful drug.

You made this all so hard on him when you never turned him away. When you always greeted him with open arms no matter how dirty or broken a state he returned to you in. You’d hold him, or let him hold you, for as long as he needed until something or someone came around to remind him to pick up the heavy weight of his reality and keep pressing forward.

He’d tried to keep you as his own little secret for the first few months after you’d agreed to join him and the League, though knew eventually he’d have no choice but to introduce you to his Sensei, whether through the blinding brightness and crackling audio of a computer monitor in a dark room or, a less than ideal scenario, in person. Face to disfigured face.

The screen had sufficed, luckily for Tomura, and after convincing his ominous yet revered Sensei how much you did for him— how much you did for the League as a whole, which you knew was a stretch, as much as you wish his words were true— the older man had let you stay.

Though, even if AFO had disapproved, Tomura would’ve found a way to convince him. Because, like one of those who’d described your quirk like the lulled sweetness of a high, he was addicted. He wasn’t sure what he’d do without you and he hoped he’d never have to find out.

“I’ll meet you in our room in a minute,” you coyly hinted, taking a step back from him and shielding one of the plastic bags from his view. “There’s just one more thing I gotta do first.”

This time, Tomura didn’t try and argue. He still rolled his eyes, sure, but he was smiling while he did it. Telling you to hurry up before heading out of the kitchen and presumably to the aforementioned location, fighting the urge to scratch with every step further from you he took.

You didn’t want to keep him waiting either, so you hastily grabbed his gift from the bottom of the bag as well as the old newspaper and duct tape you’d found lying around the hideout.

As much as you wished you had some cool, shiny wrapping paper or at least a halfway decent gift bag to put the present in, you figured Tomura wouldn’t be one to care what the packaging looked like. If his impatience for getting the things he wanted was any indicator— like how quickly he got you undressed and underneath him on a night when you both needed to satisfy your more carnal cravings— he’d tear it to shreds and toss the paper to the floor to get at the prize that was inside.

So you only bothered to fold it up in the newspaper and secure the two ends with duct tape before heading off to his room, part of you tempted to tape the entire thing just to give him a challenge, though then figured he might decay it out of frustration, only to find him sitting in front of his gaming PC, having gone to farm for some weapon enhancement materials while he waited for you.

“That was fast,” he remarked as you strolled closer, the poorly wrapped gift held behind your back with one hand.

“Guess what it is first,” you said.

Tomura paused his game, swiveling in his chair to better face you, fingers laced before him as he wore a look of minor curiosity, actually playing along for once. “Uhhhh… Wait, don’t tell me—” It was rare for him to actually indulge in one of your “pointless little games” as he often called them. But the moment his expression dropped back to that usual, unamused look, you realized a second too late that now he was the one playing with you. “It’s a pony, isn’t it?”

Flashing him a disapproving glower you lightly scolded, “Tomura. Come on. That’s not a real guess.”

“Fine,” he said, turning back to his monitor and continuing to beat mobs, picking up whatever it was they dropped so his character’s sword could level up or whatever. “It’s that new dark fantasy MMORPG that came out a few months ago. Y’know, the one with the super cool graphics made by the same company that did that other game I really liked…” His back was still facing you, so he couldn’t see the frown that had crossed your face. He said, “How’s that for a guess?” right before you dropped the package into his lap. When he turned to face you next, you didn’t look pleased.

“You looked in the bag,” you accused, voice low and annoyance beginning to simmer. “Didn’t you?”

He picked up the bundle of newspaper and duct tape that had landed in his lap and carefully turned it over in his hands. “Wait… You mean…?” He shot you a skeptical glance, trying to read your expression before eagerly tearing into the package. When you didn’t budge, still giving him that suspicious glare with your arms crossed over your chest, he began to rip strips of the newspaper off, the first corner of the gift being exposed confirming that his guess had been right.

“Happy birthday, fun killer,” you remarked, though there was a notable softness etching its way back into your words, a small smile spreading across your lips as you caught the awestruck look painted on Tomura’s face as he held the game up to the light to better study the cover art on the sleeve.

In his rare moment of distraction and stupor, you wandered closer to sling your arms around his shoulders, half your body leaning over the back of his gaming chair as you nuzzled your cheek lightly against his, feeling the roughness of his skin but finding familiar comfort in it.

“You like it?” You finally asked, pulling Tomura from his daze.

“Yeah,” he replied, that crooked smile cracking across his face for a flicker of a second. “I just can’t believe you actually managed to get your hands on a copy. It’s been sold out everywhere for weeks since it came out.”

You squeezed him a little tighter, placing another peck to his cheek before saying, “Had to travel three prefectures over and scam a kid who thought he was gonna be able to resale it to me for triple the price, but it was worth it.”

“How long did it take to convince him to let you have it for free?” asked Tomura, a hint of cruel delight lacing into his question.

“Mmmm…” you hummed, recalling the exchange in your mind, “Maybe like, five minutes, tops. But what do you say? You wanna play it?” you prompted, as if the question even needed asking in the first place.

After Tomura gave an obvious, “Uh, yeah I wanna play it,” he reached forward to pop the disc into the computer underneath the desk that held his three screen monitor display. Meanwhile, you were about to go grab an extra chair from the bar so you could sit next to him.

“Wait,” he beckoned you back before you could open the door. You paused and looked over your shoulder at him with a hint of confusion. But then he was waving you over, giving one of those grins you’d come to learn were reserved only for you, and patted his lap as he pushed his chair back from his desk, “Just c’mere.”

You gladly settled into the space between his loosely crossed legs, his arms draping over your shoulders so that he could hold his controller in front of your chest, your own controller resting in your lap and at the ready as you both waited for the game to load.

“Try not to get too frustrated when I absolutely annihilate you at this, ok,” Tomura teased, tinkering with some of the settings before launching you both into the pixelated world.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, already starting to run ahead of him on your section of the split screen where some low level mobs had just spawned. “Just try and keep up.”

You two spent a little while exploring the world and collecting supplies before you tried your hand at battling each other. Much to your dismay, but not to your surprise, Tomura was indeed “absolutely annihilating you” when it came to 1v1 fights, even when you tried to fight dirty.

And, even with your quirk in uncontrollable, constant effect on him, Serenity did nothing to slow down the rate at which his fingers flew over the buttons on the controller, hitting combo after combo with only a couple hours to learn and familiarize himself with them. In fact, you began to think maybe Serenity was making him better at playing, like the calm was clearing his mind of all other distractions so he could focus solely on the task right in front of him.

But you’d never been able to beat him, no matter what type of game you were facing off in. Still though, as he claimed the final victory in the last round you two agreed to play together, there was still a part of you that was frustrated you hadn’t been able to win against him just once.

“Want another round?” he dared to ask, that cocky air of confidence snagging on the edge of his words.

“So you can beat my character into a bloody pulp again? Yeah. I’m gonna have to pass on that one.”

“I warned you,” he said, a slight lilt in his raspy reminder.

“If I hadn’t been sitting here with you the entire time,” you began as Tomura wrapped himself tighter around you, now peppering gentle kisses to your head and looping his arms around your ribs, hugging you closer to his chest like he liked to do, “then I would’ve accused you of using cheats, but—” You tilted your head back to rest in the crook of his shoulder, gazing into his eyes and getting lost in all that scarlet. “I’ll hand it to you. You’ve probably never had to use hacks in your life, have you?”

A quiet hum of amusement vibrated in Tomura’s chest and you felt it echo through your own body for a moment, his kisses finding your neck and making you melt into him a little further until you’d both abandoned your controllers and you’d changed your position to straddle his lap, facing him so you could kiss him properly now.

“‘Course not,” he stated in between kisses, his voice lowering to a whisper as his hands began to carefully navigate the familiar planes of your body, palms running over your soft curves and grazing over the areas he knew would drive you crazy later, once there were no clothes between you two and you were laying vulnerable and bare beneath him.

He swore Serenity was always strongest when you two were skin to skin, no barriers, no matter how thin, there to hinder the flow of all that tranquility. The first time you two had slept together, you’d been surprised how gentle Tomura had been, how careful the most deadly hands in the country had held you.

Tomura could get lost in those moments, mind clouded by the calm, any and all worries he’d ever had disappearing among the fog. He didn’t want to admit how hopelessly addicted he was to you, how he was afraid of the feeling that might come crashing back in if he spent too much time away.

Sometimes you wondered if he’d still like you even if you didn’t have this quirk, if somehow you two could’ve still ended up like this, if you would’ve lent him some quality of halcyon just by your presence alone, unaided by the tranquility that endlessly emanated from your being.

Before you could dwell on it too much though, Tomura was standing with you, guiding you to the bed, and pinning you to the mattress, both of your clothes beginning to shed like a skin no longer needed.

Tomura was muttering things against your neck and into your hair as he continued to kiss you, sucking a few bruises along your pulse and making you squirm, and at one point you could’ve sworn you’d heard the words “I love you” amidst all the incoherent mumbling.

But you must’ve imagined that, right? Because neither of you had been brave enough to say those words out loud to each other before, even if you’d heard them echoing inside your brain more and more frequently with every passing day.

Yeah, you must’ve just imagined it.

“Hm…?” You tried to prompt as you carded your fingers through Tomura’s silvery hair, catching a few loose knots and combing through them until he met your eyes again.

Through the dim dark of the room, the only light being that which glowed from the computer monitors, his birthday present on pause, the red of his eyes was bright and alluring, a dichotomy between danger and desire.

But something about seeing them tonight was reminding you of the first time you’d met that gaze. Back when you two were strangers crossing paths on the street like ships in the night, you unaware of all he’d ever done and him acutely cued into the sudden and startling shift in the energy around him, pulled into your orbit.

He looked at you like you were a rare treasure he’d been searching for all his life, astonished by the reality he’d long thought to be a myth, driven only by unexplainable faith and the payoff of the proof right in front of him.

“Wha’cha lookin’ at?” you lovingly asked, cradling his face in your palms. He seemed to snap out of the intense stare, melting back against your form and allowing himself to become drunk on the scent of you, on the warmth of your skin, being content just to hold you close if that’s all you’d give him, just like he had in the beginning of all this.

“Just you…” he breathed, his steady breath fanning over your neck. “Only you…”

***

“I want you to join the League,” he’d said, plain and simple and, as far as you were concerned, completely out of left field.

You’d almost choked on your current swig of coffee, quickly composing yourself before giving him a bemused look and asking, “What did you just say?”

You knew exactly which League he was referring to, but still, you weren’t convinced you’d understood him right.

You knew who he was by then, same as he knew you, at least by name. Because, while neither of you had ever exchanged that information directly, you both had a habit of doing some digging behind the scenes. He’d found you a lot faster, given his expertise on navigating the technological back alleys of information stored within systems like the quirk registry and other private digital catalogs.

You, however, had found out his true identity the hard way.

Since you’d grown accustomed to seeing him on a regular basis, you’d recognize those pale tufts of wavy hair anywhere— even on the shaky, blurred footage shown on the news where his face was covered by a grim, grey hand.

You had to give him credit though. For being the most wanted villain in all of Japan, he sure was bold to wander out in public as often as he did.

And at first, you’d felt the familiar stomach sinking weight of dread that came with the realization that you’d been having almost weekly cafe dates with a known murderer. The fact that you knew your generous patron to be Tomura Shigaraki had made those first few days— well, ok, those first few weeks— after uncovering the information incredibly stressful for you.

You found it hard to take your eyes off his hands— the hands that could turn you to dust before you’d probably even have the chance to let out a scream if he wanted to. All it would take was all five fingers to close around you and you’d be gone. Yet, at the same time, all he’d done was show you the utmost courtesy and consideration. Though, perhaps you had your quirk to thank for that.

He kept his distance, only came closer when you explicitly allowed it, and never tried to pressure you for more than you’d give him. He’d offered to walk you home a couple of times when your sessions had been pushed to after dark, and when you refused, he still said he hoped you made it back safely. He kept buying your drinks or your lunches or whatever other extra expenses the locations you two were meeting at involved.

And, as much as you hated to admit it, part of you was falling for him, no matter how evil or dangerous the media painted him to be. And sometimes it felt like maybe he was falling for you too, but once you’d find yourself alone again, and usually sixty five-thousand yen richer, you were reminded that all of this was just an exchange.

If it wasn’t for your quirk, he’d have no reason to want anything to do with you.

“I said I want you to—”

“No, I heard you,” you cut in, holding up a hand to further signal his silence. You held his gaze, trying to search his eyes for any hidden agenda, but felt a further sense of unease when it seemed he was being genuine.

You sighed to yourself, raking your fingers back through your hair as you tried to catch a single thought that was racing through your mind. Once you finally managed to snag one, you regrouped and said, “Look. This thing—” You quickly pointed a finger from him to you and back a few times. “Whatever you wanna call what we have going on… It’s—” You made a short, sort of choking sound, scoffing at the words you hadn’t yet chosen, finding yourself speechless for a moment.

This time, as you looked back to him, trying to remain… What? Composed? Professional? Guarded? You laced your fingers together atop the table and simply stated, “My quirk can do this to people. It can…” Again, you searched for the right words, your eyes darting back and forth from where your hands were clasped in front of you to his which were starting to fidget with the strings of his hoodie. “It can make people start to think things or feel things that, once out of Serenity’s range for long enough, they realize aren’t actually true.”

You paused for a moment, giving him space to say something, to give any indication that maybe he wanted to reconsider. To confirm that, the moment he was more than five feet away from you, he’d perhaps crack one of those crooked smirks he liked to wear and admit, “Y’know what, you’re right. Forget I even said that,” and things between you two could carry on as they normally did.

But Tomura didn’t say anything. Instead, he stood from his seat, turned his back, and walked out of the little hole in the wall noodle place you two had discovered not that long ago— your new favorite late night meeting spot.

You sat there, even more at a loss for words and no less confused, and began to replay everything you’d just said over and over in your head, trying to figure out where you’d offended him so greatly.

But then, only a minute later, your phone began to ring, lighting up with the contact name 65,000. A little joke to yourself, a nickname you’d called him by in your head before learning his true identity.

“I want you to join the League,” Tomura’s familiar rasp crackled through the phone. You turned and looked out the window, seeing him standing on the other side of the street, staring you down through the fingerprint-smudged glass of the restaurant’s front window. “You think I haven’t had plenty of time to think about this while I was away from you?”

You felt like your world was spinning, slow and swaying like the dizziness from a headrush. You opened your mouth to speak, closed it, swallowed, then opened it again to reply with a single syllable.

“Why?”

“Why?” Tomura repeated, like the answer was obvious. “Because I—” Now it was his turn to consider his next words carefully, his voice tapering off into a quiet squeak at the end with what remained of his original sentence quickly dying on his tongue. He leaned against the brick wall of the building behind him, still staring at you from across the street, hood pulled over his pale, fluffy hair. “Because I think you’d be good for all of us. Your quirk, it’s… unconventional. Especially when taken into consideration as to how it’d fit into our party but…” He shrugged, and you thought you could see him crack a small smile, though weren’t completely sure from that far away. “I mean, c’mon. If anything, we could use your convenience store robbing skills.”

You could tell he was trying to use humor to put you at ease, but even so, you could feel your heart beating in your throat and your hands start to go a little numb as you prepared to utter your next statement to him.

“But…” you began, a slight tremble to your voice. “You guys kill people, don’t you?”

You could rob convenience stores to survive, sure. But killing someone…

You didn’t think you were capable of something like that.

As Tomura began to fumble for an excuse or explanation as to why certain drastic measures were often necessary in his position, you continued to sit at the tiny table tucked into the corner, absolutely beside yourself.

“Tomura—” It was the first time you’d called him by his name and it tasted bitter in your mouth. “You tried to kill kids.”

“Yeah. And so what if I did?” Even with this much distance, you could tell his eyes were alight with an all-knowing breed of mischief, almost like he was proud of this fact and not horrendously ashamed like most people would be at just the mere thought.

“I’m being serious!” you blurted out, then remembered you were the only one in a very tiny establishment, catching a few odd looks from the cooks behind the counter. You lowered your voice, though with no less sense of scolding, and continued, “I not going to— I can’t—”

“Relax…” he’d spoken over your ramblings of denial, taking a few tries before you finally seemed willing to hear him out. “You’re not gonna have to kill anybody. Your job will be strictly post-mission remedying. Maybe some occasional reconnaissance if absolutely necessary. You have my word.”

“Yeah, and you think I’m just going to take you at your word?”

Looking back, agreeing to willingly join what many had deemed a domestic terrorist organization hadn’t been a line you ever thought you’d cross. And you had never had a habit of letting people talk you into doing things that every fiber of your being was urging you to stay away from.

But there was just something about the way he’d sold it to you, how he’d made you feel important, made you feel wanted, that seeped its way into your better judgment and convinced you that yeah, maybe having a place and a people to belong to and help was what you’d been looking for for a long time. So you let him take you to the hideout, were introduced to the other members of the League, and when push came to shove, you decided you’d stay.

It didn’t take long for the others to warm up to you— a perk that no doubt had more to do with your quirk than you as a person, as you felt was normally the case— and after a few months, you felt like one of the fucked up family.

You’d come to see sides of all of them that they’d probably never shown anyone else, at least, not within the group. You’d held them late at night and let them drift off to sleep in your arms, sat with them for hours after a battle to ease the pain of their injuries, and gave them comfort when tensions were high.

The first time you shared a bed with Tomura, everyone else was out. He’d sent them scouting or scavenging or something so you two could have some time alone. It was the first time in months that you two had gotten some time alone, and it sort of made you miss the weekly cafe dates from the beginning of your strange, transactional relationship.

And that was the first time you thought maybe he liked you for more than just your quirk. The way he’d handled you was more careful and gentle than you’d ever seen him, and it made you think maybe things had always been meant to turn out this way.

The world outside that room could be decaying to ruins and neither of you would’ve noticed or cared when you were skin to skin. All you could focus on or think about was the feel of each other’s bodies, the way you moved in tandem, pulling moans and whines from each other with every drag of your visiting hips, the taste of his mouth on yours, the way he looked with all that pale hair framing his face as the hooked moon cast a soft, silvery glow through the tiny window.

You weren’t ready to admit it back then, but you knew that was the defining moment in securing the fact that you weren’t going to leave. No matter how things ended up or what turns the future took, you’d be in the League for the long haul, with him, both of you swaddled in a natural kind of serenity.

I think I love you, you’d thought as you felt his breathing slow, both of you curled together and dozing off once the high had come down and the room returned to its previous silence. I think I love you and I don’t know what to do.

You were ok keeping that to yourself. Better to not get hurt that way. But the more time that passed, the more you began to wonder if you’d be able to hold in such a heavy realization forever.

You never thought he’d say it back. Didn’t think he knew how. But you’d wait.

You’d wait until he was ready. Until he was sure he could truly mean it.

***

The room felt smaller now than it had a year ago. It was almost like everything beyond the old, blanket strewn mattress pushed into the corner on the floor didn’t exist.

With the computer monitors now faded dark and the absence of the usual muffled hum and clattering of the other League members moving throughout the rickety building or getting rowdy in the bar, the place was as still and silent as a graveyard.

That was, until the only two ghosts left lingering stirred to resume the haunt.

“Tomura…” you sighed, voice cracking with a whine of pleasure being plucked within you like a taught guitar string. He was already nestled between your thighs, slowly pushing his way deeper into the tight, wet, warmth of you. He had a habit of taking his time when it came to this, unlike the way his patience usually dwindled down to nothing like a fire eating away at a piece of paper, temper red hot and quick to flare whenever someone kept him waiting.

But, when it came to you, his patience burned more like a candle, slowly melting, savoring the experience, steady on the wick until the flame disintegrated it down to delicate ash and he’d have no choice but to wait for the wax to resolidify and start all over again.

You two didn’t talk much during this act. All your usual banter and sarcastic, teasing little comments were put on hold just until you were both stated and recovering from the come down. But still, that didn’t mean you didn’t catch him muttering things under his breath the further he carved out a home in you, all the little strained feels so good’s and god, you’re perfect’s that he whispered into the crook of your neck between leaving a trail of tender kisses there.

He’d work you up slowly, try to outlast until neither of you could take it anymore, and savor the way your core pulsed around him as you both tried to catch your breath and merge back with reality after letting everything go.

He’d let you run your fingertips over his back, sending little shivers across his spine, and lightly scratch at the back of his neck as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your shoulder, breathing in your scent like a sweet, calming drug.

Sometimes you’d hum to him, recalling simple, melancholy tunes you’d heard in your childhood or slow songs that had simply gotten stuck in your head. He’d usually drift off for a few minutes, only coming to with a deep inhale when he felt you inevitably stir beneath him. Then it was his turn to take care of you, to clean you up and witness as you were lulled by his touch, perhaps the only person who knew what his hands were capable of who’d ever let him touch them.

As you two lay side by side now, staring into each other’s eyes, admiring the color of each other’s gaze, you smiled at him and brushed a few misplaced strands of hair from his forehead, brushing your fingers down the line of his cheek, following to his jaw before slowly pulling your hand back and closing your eyes, feeling like it was only a matter of minutes until you were asleep for good that night.

But that’s when you heard it again.

“I love you,” he stated, as if it were a fact as simple as saying the sky was blue, indisputable. You opened your eyes, blinked at him, brows slightly knit together and mouth tugged down in a crooked frown as if about to deliver bad news to someone you cared about.

“Tomura…” you sighed, a slight, sympathetic lilt to your words. Though, whether it was sympathy for you or sympathy for him, you weren’t quite sure. “You’re only saying that because—”

Before the excuse had time to fully be spoken into existence, Tomura suddenly sat up and forced himself to stand from the mattress with a quiet groan. You watched as he walked from one end of the room to the other, now out of the range of your quirk. He looked you in the eyes as he said it again, the shadows of an almost pleading expression crossing his face, like he was begging you to believe him.

“I love you,” he repeated a third time, and by then, you were starting to think maybe he did. You almost felt like you might tear up, because when was the last time someone told you that and really meant it? When was the last time anyone had told Tomura? Had he ever said those words to someone else before?

“C’mere…” You beckoned him back into your embrace, and once he was in your arms again you began lazily running your fingers through his hair, gently tugging through a few more knots and feeling his breathing synchronize with yours. “I love you, too…” you muttered into the crown of his head before placing a chaste kiss there.

He looked up at you, eyes wide and full of some kind of innocent desperation, as if he were a little kid seeking approval and couldn’t believe he’d finally gotten it. Again, the notion broke your heart, knowing he hadn’t been loved properly in his childhood, but then the relief of realizing that you could maybe make up for some of it by loving him now filled you.

“Oh, and, by the way…” you smiled, a new kind of brightness shining in your tone. “Happy birthday.”

Tomura cracked a grin then— a real one, genuinely happy— and while he didn’t say it as he lay his head back down on your chest, finding healing in the steady rhythm of your heart beat, he knew that this would be a birthday he would remember forever.

***

(Aaaaaahhhh!! Guys!! I’ve been wanting to write something new for Tomura for so long and am really happy with how this one turned out :)

Honestly, this was originally meant to just be short and sweet and the to the point since I wanted to do something for his birthday but, like usual, I got too self indulgent and it sort of spiraled out of control lol.

Anyway, happy birthday to our favorite gamer boy, who deserves all the love and good things <3

Thanks for reading and I’ll see you next time!)

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stardustprompts · 2 years ago

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she who became the sun ( the radiant emperor #1 ) - shelly parker-chan change tenses/pronouns as needed !! some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw ; death , war , violence , sexism

‘they say there’s luck in names, and you’ve certainly had luck enough.’

'in my experience, lucky people tend to be the laziest.’

‘where’s the fun in suffering by yourself?’

‘you think you’re that good-looking everyone wants to see you?’

‘desire is the cause of all suffering.’

‘I don’t appreciate being made a puppet for another man’s dirty work.’

‘when I ask myself if future pain is worth it for this life I have now, I always find that it is.’

‘I always knew you had a strong will. but what’s unusual about you is that most strong willed people never understand that will alone isn’t enough to guarantee their survival.’

‘more so than will, survival depends upon an understanding of people and power.’

‘it isn’t strength, but knowledge, that will be our best tool for surviving these difficult times ahead.’

'undoubtedly, chaos brings danger. but there will be opportunities, too.’

‘it’s due to chaos that we’re living through a moment in which even ordinary men can aspire to greatness.’

‘are you going to stab me?’

‘you can’t pray away your fate.’

‘I was merciful. I let you live.’

‘you cause me trouble as well as shame.’

‘you disappoint me.’

‘any power with such comprehensive reach should be understood.’

‘any power with such comprehensive reach should be understood. perhaps especially if they’re on our side.’

‘in my father’s eyes, I’ll always be the failure.’

‘(name) is an easy person to love. the world loves him, and he loves the world, because everything in it has always gone right for him.’

‘you and (name) are two unlike things. don’t fool yourself that he can ever understand you.’

‘I know what it’s like to be humiliated.’

‘any kind of fool can stumble into success once or twice.’

‘you two are such a bad match. can’t you have a single conversation without fighting?’

‘can’t you have a single conversation without fighting?’

‘clever people know when to give in.’

‘if you join his side, you’ll regret it.’

‘how little lives are worth in this war. theirs and ours, both.’

‘you have a lot of feelings in you.’

‘to win a hundred victories, a hundred battles is not the pinnacle of skill. to subdue the enemy without fighting is the pinnacle of skill.’

‘what someone is means nothing about what kind of person they are. truth is in actions.’

‘I didn’t mean to kill. at first.’

‘I wanted to live, so I took a life.’

‘all that means is we have to make this life count.’

‘who did you become, when we were apart?’

‘I might not know you, but I know what you want.’

‘you’ve opened my eyes. there are so many more options than I thought.’

‘you saw something in me that I didn’t know myself.’

‘what kind of man bothers to see potential in a woman, and encourages her despite her own doubts?’

‘rest assured that the only reason I helped you is because it gets me closer to what I want.’

‘you know what’s worse than suffering? not suffering, because you’re not even alive to feel it.’

‘learn to want something for yourself. not what someone says you should want. not what you think you should want.’

‘don’t go through life thinking only of duty. when all we have are these brief spans between our nonexistences, why not make the most of the life you’re living now?’

‘why not make the most of the life you’re living now? the price is worth it.’

‘maybe your suffering is worth whatever it is you want to achieve. but mine wouldn’t be.’

‘that’s all past history. I never think of it.’

‘do you believe that? that one day we’ll be out of a job, because of peace?’

‘have the courage to take power for yourself! do you think it will come to you if you wait?’

‘do you actually believe the idiocy that comes out of your mouth?’

‘you never accepted me for who I am; you never even saw everything I did for you, all because I’m not like (name)!’

‘you always push everyone away. what do you find in it, the loneliness? I couldn’t bear it.’

‘you trust too much. I admire you for it. that you prefer to drawn people closer, rather than push them away. but it’ll get you hurt.’

‘the worst injury you can do to a man is shame him. he can never forget it.’

‘it must have been painful, learning that true wisdom lies in obedience.’

‘are you always thinking do little of me that my defeats seem inevitable?’

‘i’d have thought you’d be the last to cry about (name’s) fate. why can’t we just stand back and let it happen?’

‘so you’re going to save (name) from himself?’

‘and here I thought I was the only one who got manipulated by pretty girls.’

‘why are you lowering yourself by dirtying your hands like this? let someone else take care of this trash.’

‘you were only ever a pretender. you only sat on a pretend throne.’

‘why do we have to play these awful games? what for?’

‘what does anyone want but to be on top, untouchable?’

‘who do you think I am, to think I can make anything happen in my own life? i’m a woman.’

‘I know you don’t want that life. a different one isn’t impossible.’

‘you have something I don’t; you feel for others, even the ones you don’t like.’

‘you want me to believe you’re different. that you can give me something different. but how can I trust that? I can’t.’

‘are you fool enough to believe the future will match your dream of it, with no consideration of the reality of the situation?’

‘I don’t admit anything! I don’t need to! you’ve already made up your mind!’

‘you can’t reason with fools who refuse to see reason.’

‘he was right about you. you’re worthless. worse than that; a curse.’

‘there are people who say that grief will hurt as much as it’s worth.’

‘there are people who say that grief will hurt as much as it’s worth. and there is nothing worth more than a father.’

‘(name) would never put himself on the line for me, or anyone else. but you, you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?’

‘i’ve wanted and struggled and suffered for that fate my whole life. I’m not going to stop now.’

‘you are trouble. I’ve never met anyone more trouble than you,’

‘are you so certain of the possibility of change? it seems to me the outcome is inevitable.’

‘what I want has nothing to do with who wins.’

‘every time the world turns its face from you, know it was because of me.’

‘stop blaming yourself and let yourself want it.’

‘stop blaming yourself and let yourself want it. i’ll give it to you.’

‘I have everything I need. whereas you, — you still need me.’

‘nobody expected anything of me. nobody ever cherished me.’

‘I cherish you.’

‘you think you understand me. but don’t forget it goes both ways. like knows like; like is connected to like. I understand you, too.’

‘pure emotions are the luxury of children and animals.’

‘more fool I am, to hope against hope for a change in his nature, that he might actually try to be useful.’

‘I presume you’re not here to kill me.’

‘you think you have power over me because you know a secret. but you don’t.’

‘how can something like that stop me, destroy me, when nothing else has?’

‘look at me and see the person who will win. the person who will rule.’

‘I presume you realize how much I dislike you. wasn’t the last where I said I wanted to kill you clear enough?’

‘you betray you ignorance in less than a sentence.’

‘how willing you were to think the worst of me. why aren’t you happier? i’m just being who you’ve always though I was. i’m giving you the ending you believed in.’

‘the times and means of our deaths have always been fixed, and this is yours.’

‘even the most shining future, if desired, will have suffering at its heart.’

‘i’ll follow you, as far as you want to go.’

‘I wasn’t born with the promise of greatness either. but I have it now. because I wanted it. because I’m strong, because I’ve struggled and suffered to become the person I need to me, and because I do want needs to be done.’

‘you said you’d be different. you lied to me.’

‘when you did this, did you even stop to think about how it might make me feel to bear witness for what you think is justified?’

‘I want what I want, and sometimes I’m going to have to do certain things to get it.’

‘you have two choices. you can rise with me, which I’d prefer. or if you don’t want what I want— you can leave.’

#rp sentence starters #rp prompts #rp memes #literature sentence starters #literature prompts #she who became the sun prompts #she who became the sun sentence starters #the radiant emperor prompts #the radiant emperor sentence starters

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adaptacy · 1 year ago

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A Found Flame {Pt.10}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Previous Chapter) - (Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3)

Word Count: 2k

His hand squeezes shut, fingers curling into a firm fist, his eyes following the grooves of the large veins that trail beneath his skin. His elbow rests on his knee, and he finds it mildly surprising that his hand bears no trembles. He relaxes, and the veins fade into obscurity, easing beneath his skin. Again, he tenses, and before long, they appear again.

“Numb?” A man hums, and Gale looks up from the fallen log he sits on, immediately giving up his studies and shifting into a more normal position, his hands folded in front of him as he sits up, looking at the white-haired elf standing before him.

“Pardon?”

“You looked as though you expected it to fall off. Or perhaps sprout into a tentacle. I only ask because I figure I’d rather hear about any transformations before they take place and we’re forced to slaughter you,” he sighs, and then motions towards Gale’s hand. “So?”

“Fortunately, it would take approximately seven days for ceremorphosis to fully set in, so any unwanted evolutions are a few horizons away. Alas, I’m hardly comforted at our lack of immediate help, but…” Gale scoots back on the log, and then slightly to the left, in case Astarion had any intentions of sitting down, but he doesn’t seem to. “Still perfectly human.”

“Oh, how… pleasant. Though I’d argue the validity of a title such as ‘perfect’, I’ll save you the insult,” Astarion teases, and Gale puts up an awkward smile, not entirely sure how to take it in any way other than personally. “I’ll keep watch tonight. Decided I should let you know so you don’t risk stressing yourself out by staying up past your bedtime,” he chuckles.

“That’s awfully altruistic of you. Much appreciated.”

“But of course – I’m nothing if not altruistic.” Astarion dips his head and wanders back over towards one of three bedrolls – two that they had scavenged, and one that Gale had conjured up – that he takes a seat on, warming his pale hands by the fire. Shadowheart rests on the opposite side, already attempting her hand at rest, which given the chaos of the day, Gale was sure would come easy to her.

He wasn’t sure he’d be so lucky. Beyond the sudden shift of going from a bed that felt as if it was made to host royalty itself to the thin cloth of a bedroll on dirt, he found his thoughts far too active to make any attempt to quiet them. What a day it had been, indeed.

He should’ve been in the company of a good book and the warm firelight of a room at a tavern. Curled up in a mildly comfortable bed, at least with a blanket over him, pillows beneath his head. Alas, he was instead in the company of two complete strangers, an illithid tadpole, and the stars.

At least the stars were pleasant.

Not to say the more lively company was unwanted; it had been quite a while since he’d truly engaged with people for more than just trade barters, and he’d gotten too comfortable with Tara and his apprentice. It was strange to suddenly be thrust into completely unfamiliar territory and reminded of such distant memories of socialization. In his defense, his traveling partners were also rather… strange.

He was owed no right to their secrets, but even so, they were quite reserved. Shadowheart was quiet, but seemed a good decision maker, and plenty helpful between her original act of rescuing him, and patching him up both from the wound he’d inflicted on himself and patching both he and Astarion up after a run-in with quadrupedal brains with an intense thirst for violence. She clearly held back, though he’d gotten a glimpse of a slightly more talkative side of her whenever she’d made one or two quick, sarcastic quips targeted at the two men.

Astarion was impossible to get a read on. He seemed entirely focused on his own survival, more akin to an unwilling child being dragged along with the two of them than a willing fellow adventurer. He also had an air of self-importance about him, and was far from afraid of hurting their feelings, as he loudly and confidently called out any of their mistakes, ensuring his opinion was understood by all. With what little Gale could collect from him, he saw a bit of himself in the elf – Gale found himself with a quiet doubt following each of Astarion’s words. If his own experiences had taught him anything, Gale figured the deflective, imposing nature of each of his comments was something of a defense mechanism.

Or he could’ve been a snobby royal. Truly, Gale couldn’t figure that one out, and he understood asking such a forthright question would earn him nothing but a snarky, sarcastic remark of disbelief from Astarion, and even if he was a snobby royal, he’d likely never be granted any sort of confirmation.

And Gale had bigger things to worry about.

After tonight, he’d have six days. He’d start experiencing the symptoms tomorrow, should his studies prove true. But the symptoms weren’t his worst concern.

However much he believed his comrades were keeping secrets from him, he knew he was no better. He had been entirely silent about the orb, and strangely enough, it too had been silent. Even when he’d cast spells he hadn’t cast in years past, when he channeled and called upon the weave, it granted him no reaction. Not a single beat, not a sudden spike in appetite, not an angry bellowing of disagreement, or the pain that he’d grown so accustomed to feeling each time he cast a spell.

It was still. Gale believed it the status of a predator, lying in wait for an unsuspecting victim, still and silent enough to blend in perfectly with the surroundings, near invisible to the unquestioning eyes of its prey.

The tadpole, on the other hand, had been quite active. Writhing and twisting everytime it feared Gale may forget his new occupant, though it was an impossible feat to say the least. He knew precisely what would happen if they failed to find a cure. His skin would not be the only thing to burst upon an unwarranted evolution – the orb would likely detonate along with the rest of his body, and he suspected even a tentacled face would not manage to survive such a blast.

Neither would his surroundings. His companions may have been strangers at best, but he still wished them no harm, and they would not be the only ones to feel the orb’s wrath. Whatever communities they might stumble upon would quickly be wiped out, and innocent lives along with them.

How long would it take for his only two friends to realize he was not returning to them? How long would it take for them to understand and accept that he was gone?

He’d promised them. Promised them he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Sworn to them that he would not die without a fair and certain farewell. Even if he did find someplace to die where it would not hurt those around him, he would never die satisfied. Not even in eternal rest would he find any semblance of peace.

He has not yet said goodbye. And so he cannot die.

What a strange feeling, to yearn for survival. How unfamiliar it had grown for him. No more than two days ago, he’d been satisfied to embark north and accept death’s cold embrace. Just this morning he had attempted to plunge a dagger into the orb, albeit he’d hardly been pleased at the situation.

But tonight, he had made a promise, and he had every intention to keep it. He had an obligation to keep it.

And the orb was so dreadfully silent. He’d never known it to sleep before. Even if it was merely feigning absence, it was foreign to him. Without the insistent reminders, he felt himself again. For the first time in nearly two years, he felt like Gale Dekarios. He felt like Mystra’s chosen. He felt like his mother’s son.

But he’d become the host for another insatiable, and rather annoying, to-be beast, which at this very moment was happy to squirm behind his eye, instilling an immediate reminder of his circumstance.

What he’d give for a shot at normalcy again. For one more chance. A chance to obey. A chance to be satisfied with everything he’d been granted. A chance to maintain his sense of self. A chance to see his mother again without the guilt of his actions. A chance to be loved by Mystra, however restrained it might have felt.

Gods, if he only knew what restraint truly was back then. He’d always yearned for so much more – never believing her fleeting affections to be enough. At least he’d had some of her affections. Now, he found himself completely lacking (and missing) such generous displays.

He wonders whether he’d been satisfied if he understood what the possibilities were. If he’d known back then the true flavor of failure, the abyss of loneliness, the all-consuming blight of regret – had he settled for the love he had? Had he settled for the limits of his power, the limits of Mystra’s time, the limits of her saccharine intrigue?

He could have been the Great Gale of Waterdeep. He could’ve been Mystra’s chosen. Why that wasn’t enough, he hardly understands. In comparison to the shell he is now, he had perfection. He had everything he should’ve wanted.

If he’d succeeded – if he’d acquired, safely, this fragment of the far reaches of the weave, if he had knelt before her and presented it as a gift of the finest quality, if he had handed her the final piece of her puzzle, would she complete him in return? Would she affirm him as her best? Would she grant him a few extra moments of her time? A few extra glimpses of her love?

Or would she withdraw? Claim his gift, claim him, and return to the weave?

Perhaps, in learning so much from her, so too did her ambition find its way into his motivations. Never before had he felt he truly satisfied her. Her praise was no less shallow than a puddle, and certainly no deeper. Any satisfaction he did manage to bestow upon her was entirely fleeting.

At least she’d been convincing in his younger years. Her approval so graciously hummed into his ear at every successful spell, seeming to him as if he’d truly managed to impress his goddess. But her smiles seemed less earnest in time. He’d believed earning her love and lust was sure to be followed by only brighter horizons, yet her eyes seemed only to dim, her words grew just harsh enough to instill anxiety, fearful that he might risk her disapproval.

To fail his goddess was to fail his talent. To think, he feared losing her so terribly that he managed to drive her further away than he ever could’ve imagined possible.

Gale curls his hand into a fist once more, watching his veins contract. He is a mere mortal. To ever believe he would be more than a muse for the embodiment of his faith was unreasonable. For all the compliments targeted at his ambition, he found it no more than a haunting flaw. To manage ambition after one is stripped of potential is no trait to be envied, much rather one to be ashamed of.

He relaxes, and stands, making his way over to the campfire and kneeling on the thin hide of his bedroll, watching the flames for a few seconds before lowering himself further, eventually coming to rest on his side. His eyes close, and he decides to lend sleep an opportunity.

At least temporary peace is still, most assuredly, peace.

And some is better than none.

#baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #gale baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale bg3 #gale dekarios #astarion

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witchthewriter · 1 year ago

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𝑴𝒂𝒄𝑮𝒚𝒗𝒆𝒓 & 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒐𝒚: 𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

Paid story for @alohomorasomnium. Word Count: 3k Warnings: swears, implied past domestic violence/abuse (slight details), stalking

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

You stood there as he held your head in between his large, rough hands. Opie was being so soft and you realised just how safe you felt.

“I don’t understand why you want to take care of me,” you whispered, tears forming in your closed eyes.

“Because you deserve it. And I – I like you.”

Opie could’ve hit himself in the head for saying those words. What a juvenile way of expressing himself. But he didn’t know how else to say it, other than, ‘I like you.’

It was a trial of words because what he wanted to say was, ‘I desire you, body, and soul. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of you. I never want to be apart. You make me feel like I’m home.’ But no, all he could say was, ”I like you.”

And while Opie was inwardly chastising himself, you were inwardly dying of happiness. Joy, fulfilment, love, would you get to receive them? Finally? After all this running, all this surviving.

A laugh escaped your lips, small and full of ecstasy. It brought Opie out of his reverie.

“I like you too,” you whispered, a tear sliding down your cheek.

Opie moved your glasses to wipe your tear away. He took a moment to admire your beautiful hazel eyes, those freckles that danced across your nose. It was difficult for Opie to not trace them.

As if he had decided something within seconds, and still holding your face, Opie slowly leant down. In understanding, you moved yourself to stand taller and met him.

Your lips touched his and you felt Opie sigh.

It had taken Opie a while to realise his feelings weren’t just based in friendship. He hadn’t planned it. That was for sure. It started with a stranger in need. And that stranger turned out to be someone he cherished. Someone he felt … at home with.

If anyone asked, Opie wasn’t lonely. He most definitely wasn’t.

But real answer was yes.

After Donna’s death, he felt lost. Even though it was a year and a half ago. He started to heal. In his own way. Little by little. Bit by fucking bit. Opie had thrown himself into the club, and maybe helping you was his way of healing. Of doing things that he wished he could have done with Donna. Although, he never thought of her when you were together.

And then his heart opened. Unintended.

But it was the flashes of your happiness when she opened her door and Opie was standing there. It was knowing that she felt safe whenever he was around. Or when he took her on his bike and she gripped him tightly.

Those little moments that Opie shared with you, made him more and more aware of his feelings. And now he was very aware.

Jax had been tracking Dalton by himself. The club wasn’t aware he was going rogue. His decision to do so was because there was something suspicious that Jax couldn’t quite comprehend. He felt like someone wasn’t being truthful here. Someone, besides Dalton, had something to hide.

And so Jax was doing his best to figure out who could be feeding information to this douchebag. Because he wasn’t all that smart; not to break into homes and set up those fucking cameras. The creepy bastard.

Day by day Jax was getting closer, but he was constantly being pulled in different directions. He couldn’t keep his focus on just one thing. He never could, but now … now he definitely didn’t have the time for pleasure. He was always on the go.

Tara was getting irritated, Jax could see that. All her worries at work and with helping the boys, he was lucky to have such a loyal and dedicated Old Lady.

He wondered what you would be like as an Old Lady…she’d never been around a club, not knowing the culture and it’s rules.

Donna was a bit foreign to it at the beginning, but she learnt the ins and outs pretty well. But decided that the club wasn’t fit for her, her children or Opie.

Fuck, Jax thought. Would you try and take him from the club, just like Donna?

On the flip side, how would she integrate into this life? Be obedient when needed, and badass when things went to shit? You had good connections with some of the guys, particularly Tig. And really, if Tig like you, then everyone will.

Your work friend, Georgie, was enjoying the sun that filtered through the building’s large windows as she sat at the front desk. Her hair had been hard to tame this morning, and she knew it would rain at some point today because of it.

Taking a second to stop typing and bask in the sunlight, she felt the shift. From warm to cold, her eyes flung open as Dalton stood in front of her.

Dalton walked into your workplace and leaned on the counter. His top button undone, hair slicked back and neatly combed. That look had taken him about fifteen minutes every morning. And always hated when someone touched his hair.

With a flirtatious smile, he looked at Georgie. It was lost on her, although she pretended otherwise.

“Hey there,” Dalton said with a honeyed voice. Smooth and sweet, it sent a shiver down Georgie’s spine, but not in a good way. She may have grown up in a small town, but that didn’t make her stupid. There was something about him that made her wary. Made her feel like something bad was going to happen.

“Hello,” she said in that airy voice of hers, still typing on the computer, entering in a log for the morning. “Can I help you with anything?” She furthered, without looking up from the screen.

When he realised his efforts in wooing weren’t going to work, Dalton slowly stood up. “I was wondering if you could tell me where Kaelie is? I’m a friend of hers and wanted to surprise her-“

Georgie looked up from her computer and bent her head to one side, as if to say, ‘I’m listening.’

Opie’s hands moved. One to the back of your neck and the other gripping your waist, pulling you towards him. A moment in time, that felt like the world had stopped. It was as if the clock on the wall stopped ticking, and was letting you have your moment.

His warmth seeped into you, and you swore you could feel him in your bones. Where lip met lip, tongue met tongue. You were toying with each other, seeing where the line was. There wasn’t one.

Your blood felt hot, and your skin was on fire, with chills at the same time. How could that be? He was sending you wild. You had never had a kiss like this before. You’d never been held like this before, in your life. With so much devotion, with no hidden malice or motivation.

His height was overwhelming, and Opie’s back was starting to hurt. So, in a fluid motion, he picked you up with ease, your legs entwining around his waist.

Things were progressing and you thought, were you ready?

Then there was a knock at the door.

Slowly, he untangled himself from you, leaving you with a sudden cold feeling.

Looking through the peep hole, Opie relaxed as he saw the cleaner.

“Ugh, we’re all good in here,” he said through the door, and turned around to face you. Who had been taking deep breaths, over and over again. You felt like you had lost your strength, or ability to stand.

Opie wasn’t charming like Jax, he wasn’t suave, and he definitely wasn’t as bold as Tig. He didn't know if he should continue this... would it ruin whatever it was between you? Would you feel used? Did you want to keep going?

The thoughts were overwhelming, so Opie took the only way out.

“Ugh, you mind if I go take a shower?”

Your cheeks reddened. Was that code for something? Should you know that? Yes, you should know that. It was adult shit.

Did it mean he was coming back…with just a towel on? God, fuck, what were you okay with right now? You didn’t want to go all the way. No, no fucking. No grinding either, no head… just … PG 13. Keep it PG 13.

You nodded and watched as Opie awkwardly made his way into the bathroom. When you heard the door close and the water turn on, you flopped on the bed.

“What the fuck.”

In the shower, letting the water run down his naked body, Opie thought the same thing. And now he had a whole night stuck in the same room with you. What the fuck was going to happen? He became truly anxious when he realised he had to talk... about his feelings.

Opie was in the shower and you were panicking. You didn’t know what to do, sit down and knit? No, fuck no. You couldn’t read right now…you couldn’t focus on anything but the warmth of Opie. He had made you feel so light, so cared for.

So, you listened to yourself. Decided to do what you wanted to do. And you got up from leaning against the wall and went to work. Lowering the lights, (wishing there were candles), turning off the tv and fixing the bed. You tried your best to make it romantic. The radio was turned on to the best station you could find, and when you did all you could do, you stood back and sighed.

You hadn’t done anything romantic for a man since Dalton (and only Dalton). Whenever he made you feel guilty, you would clean the whole house, light candles, put on his favourite movie and make his favourite dinner.

The thought popped into your head as you tucked in the edges of the bed and fixed yours and his pile of clothes. You weren’t doing this out of blame, but because you … wanted to. You wanted to make Opie smile, to see his face light up.

It was odd that Opie Winston was many inches taller and wider than your ex, he belonged to a club, a violent one at that, and knew of said violence like someone would know of a hug. He was hardened, and yet never made you feel like you were in the presence of danger.

He’d never raised his voice at you, never intimidated you or forced you. He was kind, thoughtful and … caring.

And society saw him as the bad person, while your ex; a narcissistic abuser was seen as the good person. As if he had everyone in a trance – under a spell.

In the bathroom, Opie’s phone was buzzing inside his pant’s pocket. Turning off the water, he wrapped a white towel around his waist and bent down.

“Hello,” his voice was low, not wanting to disturb you. The big mirror had fogged over and he couldn’t see himself.

His clothes were piled on the closed toilet lid, beanie on top. As Jax kept talking, he dried himself off.

“Wait, wait, he’s fucking staying at her place?”

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure he knows someone from the club,” Jax was at home, taking off his shirt and pants, getting ready to put on his pyjamas. He’d got home in time to bathe Abel, to take that responsibility off of Tara’s shoulders for the night.

The baby was on the bed as Jax got ready, squirming and giggling at his father. His little feet free from booties or a blanket, the little man felt free. Jax’s heart bloomed, he wished Opie could feel this. Know what fatherhood meant, and how it felt to raise a child with the person you loved. Because Jax knew. He knew damn well that Opie loved you.

“Who? Fucking who knows him?” Opie’s fists clenched, and he heard a crack. Luckily the Nokia phone was barely hurt.

“A prospect maybe, not sure. But I’ve got everything covered down here. You just keep her away from Charming for a while. Think of it as … a vacation,” Jax said with a smile, but it was aimed straight at his son.

After Dalton had finished scoping out your work, he went to your place, keys, and all, and swung the take out on the table. He’d gotten your favourite. It was still hot, as he grabbed a bowl and spooned it into the ceramic. Moving, he kicked off his shoes and put on your favourite movie, lit your candles and sat down on your couch.

I miss you, he thought. Wriggling into the couch to try and get your smell. But all he could sniff was biker. With a huff, he put his bowl on the table and went into your room, grabbed your shirt, and put it on.

Now don’t go messing up my things, you said.

“Oh, honey I won’t!” He said with a beam and returned to the loungeroom.

Dalton decided that if you didn’t come back soon, then he would continue looking for you. He would always keep looking for his Kaelie, his bright-eyed and quick-witted love. The words you had said before leaving…you hadn’t truly meant them.

And that’s why he was here, ready to win you back.

When he was done, Dalton went into the bathroom and took of his clothes. Turning on the shower, he used every single one of your things: shampoo, conditioner, brush, razor, and when he was done. He went into your room, dripping naked and rummaged through your drawers.

Soon he found a pair of matching pyjamas, they were blue, with purple hearts on them. And as he turned off the lights and laid down in your bed, he heard the pitter patter of raindrops outside.

Opie’s lips were bright red, like he had been chewing on them over and over. What was he thinking about? You mused, worried that he was regretting the kiss.

“Ope?”

“Hmm, yeah?” He was going through his pack, and finding his gun. He hadn’t noticed your work, his head too far into the future and its possibilities.

Opie was already thinking about routes and next stops, how much money you guys had and how long you would be away for.

“Opie,” you said sternly, and his head whipped up, ready for danger. When he couldn’t find any, he looked at you and frowned. “What is it?”

You cocked you head to the side and sat on the bed.

“Haven’t you noticed…” He looked around the room and that, there was an obvious change in ambience. It didn't hurt that he hadn't noticed, what did hurt was the obvious change in demeanour. Like he was trying to ignore you.

“Oh, Oh!” He said, standing up, “yes, it’s very nice, very good.” And then he looked at you and you shook your head.

“Shit, I did too much, I went too far-“ You got up from the bed and grabbed at your chest. Your arms were entwined around your front and your hair was completely out – which was very odd, but you thought … never mind what you thought.

“No, no, you didn’t. I just,” and then you both started talking over the top of one another. Opie talking about what he was focused on, and you mumbling about what you thought was going to happen.

And you thought he hadn’t heard your last comment, but out of everything, he fucking had.

“You thought…we were, going to go further?” Opie coughed and you blushed. From head to fucking toe.

“Oh – I misread it. Forget it, forget it okay. God this is embarrassing.” You said underneath your breath and started to braid your hair. You turned off the radio and turned the tv back on, doing your best to eliminate any semblance of romance.

“Kaelie-“ Opie said, an arm outstretched, almost as if that would halt you. But you just did your best not to cry. Fuck this stupid motel room. Fuck this town and fuck Dalton, you wanted to scream.

“I’ll remember that I’m only a lost cause you’re trying to help,” you said curtly and got into bed, turning your back on him.

Opie felt like punching himself in the face. It’s probably what Jax would’ve done if he was here. Opie and feelings were an odd combination. He just couldn’t express himself perfectly all the time like some people.

You stared at the pile of books and let a tear slip. Fucking yell, you teared up a mere hour ago out of happiness and now … fuck.

You heard Opie move around the room. Making sure the door was locked, turning off the tv, shutting the bathroom door and turning off the lights.

Then you felt the bed move as Opie climbed in.

That’s that, then. You thought miserably and let a few more tears shed.

But then you felt a warm hand touch your shoulder, and Opie started to speak.

“I didn’t know how to tell you, I didn’t want you to feel pressured.” You still had your back to Opie as he spoke, and you slowly wiped your tears, not wanting him to know.

“When I said I liked you, it was the wrong word to use. I’ve only said it … romantically … to one person. My wife. Ex-wife. Ugh, deceased…wife,” you held your breath as Opie exhaled.

“I love you, Kaelie. I’m not the best with words. Or, charm,” his words were like a physical pull. You rolled over, and laid face to face. Even in the dark you could see his eyes, and you found his hand, entwining it with your own.

“I think I’ve loved you all these months but didn’t know it until … your ex came to town.” His hand was so much larger then your own, and you nearly cried at the feel of it. God you were crying so often.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” You replied, whispering. You moved his hand into your other and tucked it firmly against your chest. With your free hand, you stroked his bearded face, and felt … wetness. Tears, he had been crying too.

“I didn’t know how,” he murmured. Resting his forehead against your hand.

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imtryingmybeskar · 2 years ago

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Come Home Chapter Eighteen

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Word count: 5,436

The aftermath of the argument. Can Joel and reader get back to the way things used to be?

Come Home

Chapter Eighteen - Want

Six days.

Six fucking days you’d been in this fucking clinic and you were just about ready to climb the walls.

On the second night you had settled into sleep with vague hopes that you would be able to get out of here the following morning, but in the early hours had experienced an especially heinous nightmare and Doctor Graham had been unable to get to you before you wrenched yourself bolt upright, sweating and wheezing. The movement had popped some stitches and caused your wounds to start bleeding again, and her hands had been deft and gentle as she had cleaned and redressed them by the light of one of the powerful lamps in the room.

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to stay a little longer,” she had said apologetically, and you cursed your mind and the past for the thousandth time. “And…well, I’m no psychotherapist but doctor patient confidentiality is still extremely important to me and if you want to talk-“

“No!” you had exclaimed, and then “No,” more softly as you realised how harsh you had sounded. “No thank you. I…I can’t do that.”

She had looked at you with a mixture of pity and exasperation.

“I’m not going to push you,” she had said gently “But I really think you should consider talking to someone. Whatever happened…reliving it by yourself night after night isn’t good for you. If not me, then a friend perhaps.”

“Maybe,” you replied, knowing full well you were never going to do that. You wouldn’t burden Ellie with that shit, had no idea where you and Joel were in relation to each other right now and the only other person you could possibly think of talking to was Vanessa. You were sure she would listen, might even understand. But the thought of discussing it with anyone gripped your heart with icy fear that was almost worse than the memories themselves. No, you had survived this long without having to articulate it, without having to force those horrific words past your lips. You could survive a while longer, and hopefully forever.

While Ellie came to see you the next day, Joel did not and you couldn’t help but feel a sinking disappointment at that, though you don’t ask her to explain his whereabouts. You had hoped that the previous night’s laughter would have perhaps helped put to rest the animosity between you, but you supposed that the argument between you was the foremost thing in his mind after all, given his absence. In fact you don’t see him at all over the next few days, though you do have other visitors. Maria comes one afternoon, her face drawn and solemn as she sees you laid up.

"You doin' okay?" she asks in her usual forthright manner as she sits on the chair next to your bed.

"I'll be fine," you assure her. "Just a stupid accident. I got lucky really."

"You did," she nods. "Tommy sends his best. He's still finishing up at the dam. He also-." She breaks off and pauses, and you witness an expression you have never seen on her face before - embarrassment. "He also wanted me to apologise. For his brother's behaviour." Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline in surprise at this, but she continues before you can speak. "We've all noticed that Joel's been a little...on edge recently. And that you two haven't been quite as close as you usually are. Tommy's tried to speak to him about it. Joel refused. But Tommy did say that given he's a stubborn, grumpy fucker he suspects that whatever has happened is a him problem not a you problem. His words, not mine," she adds, holding her hands up as if absolving herself of liability.

You look away, slightly embarrassed yourself that the rift between you and Joel seems to be the subject of town gossip, though you hadn't really expected otherwise.

"Well...I'm not sure what his problem is either, honestly," you confess. "Thank you for relaying the message, but if anyone is going to apologise for Joel's behaviour, it better be Joel. And given that he's a stubborn, grumpy fucker..." You allow the sentence to trail away, a wry smile curving your lips and then attempt a small, one shouldered shrug. "The important thing is that everyone's alive and everyone came back. I'm just focusing on getting out of here right now."

"Cheers to that," Maria says fervently, tapping her water bottle lightly against yours where it rested on your nightstand.

Vanessa, Chloe, Mark and Anna come to see you another afternoon, the latter solemnly clutching the little toy rabbit you had given to her a few months previously. They assault you with a barrage of well-meaning questions – How do you feel? When can you go home? Who else has come to see you? – and they offer sincere and strenuous gratitude, both that you and Ellie came back and that you had brought the deer with you.

“Guess I’ll have to find a new scouting partner for now,” says Vanessa, the joviality in her voice not quite masking the upset she clearly feels at seeing you like this.

“I’ll be back out with you in no time, you’ll see,” you reassure her. “Though until then, I’ll have to find another way to keep busy.”

“You just rest up,” Vanessa insists sternly. “Plenty of time to go out and get your ass kicked again once you’ve healed!”

After each visitor leaves you feel truly exhausted, but in a more peaceful way than before somehow. You had forgotten what it was like to have people who were worried for your wellbeing. Chris’s concern for you had been genuine of course, but because there was only the two of you it had been rooted in a desire to survive as much as anything else. These people wanted you to get well for no other reason than they enjoyed having you in their lives, and it was a truly beautiful feeling.

The way you and Joel had left things was playing on your mind a lot, and you weren’t sure where you stood with him right now. Despite the hurtful and angry things you had said to each other, he had clearly been fretful about you and the glimpse of the Joel of old had been a comfort to your heart. You hope the situation wouldn’t go back to how it had been for the past few weeks, and even briefly consider if the injury was worth it just for that potential outcome before a lance of electric pain jolts through your arm and shoulder as you try to settle yourself more comfortably, and you decide it probably isn't.

Each morning when you awake aches and pains plague you, particularly your trapezius and the upper part of your deltoid which are agonising. Dr Graham says this is a good thing, that it means you’re starting to heal and that the possibility of nerve damage is growing more remote. While that all sounds great, you disagree with her assessment of “good”. Your muscles feel like they’re constantly cramping up and your shoulder is uncomfortably warm, though you are reassured that there is no sign of infection and that the antibiotics you have been given are doing their job. But you even start to get more accustomed to these odd and uncomfortable sensations after a few days and begin asking her again about when you can leave. She tries to persuade you to stay a while longer, but you insist you will be able to rest more effectively in your own house and eventually, after almost a week, she reluctantly acquiesces.

“I will be coming to check on you every day, and you’ll need to come back into the clinic a few times a week for check-ups and physio,” she informs you in no uncertain terms as she binds you up in a shoulder sling, and you accept that as the necessary price for your freedom.

Just as you’re packing up the meagre collection of books, clothes and toiletries that you have accumulated from your visitors during your stay, Joel enters the room. He still looks exhausted, but there’s a reserved calm to him that was definitely not present the last few times you’ve seen him.

“Mornin’,” he greets you, his voice betraying a little awkwardness. “The doc said she’s lettin’ you outta here. Thought I’d help you home.”

You recognise the olive branch being offered, but whether it’s for the argument you’ve had, the bad feeling between you prior to that, or because he hasn’t come to visit you much since you’ve been here, you don’t know. You swallow your pride and thank him, and he helps you to finish packing your bag and then swings it over his shoulder to carry it for you.

The journey from the clinic is slow going, and not only because you’re not used to walking any kind of distance after the past week. People you had never even spoken to before come up to you to enquire after your wellbeing, and it settles a lovely warmth around your heart that everyone seems to care so much. Joel doesn’t speak much at all, except to check in occasionally to see if you’re okay and if you need to stop to rest, and while his thoughtfulness seems to be couched in politeness rather than concern you’re still grateful that you seem to be getting back on an even keel with him.

The front porch of your house looks actively welcoming, something you never imagined you would ever think about it, and you feel a slow relaxation as you enter the front door, your stomach unclenching as you sigh a breath of relief now you were back in your own space and away from clinical surroundings.

“You gonna be okay?” Joel asks softly, the question loaded with implications about your mental health as well as your physical.

“Yeah,” you say readily. “Yeah, I actually think I will be. Thank you for walking me.”

“You’re welcome.”

You desperately want to fill the silence that follows, both of you casting your eyes around your living room in an attempt to look anywhere but each other, but your mind has gone blank except for all but the most banal conversation starters.

“So…you going back to the dam today?”

“Uh, no. No, everythin’ got fixed up fine in the end. Your friend Chloe got us up and running a damn sight faster than we would have been otherwise. We’re all grateful to her.”

"That's good," you nod, your mind already casting about for a way to keep the conversation moving. "And uh...Ellie's trip. You all ready for it?"

"Yeah, I think we're about ready to go. That recordin' thingy you found was very useful. Just what I needed really. Thank you."

"You're welcome. And at least you know that the museum should be pretty clear. One less thing to worry about I guess."

He nods, smiling politely, and silence falls again. Another fucking awkward silence between you and this time it’s too much. You don’t care if he doesn’t want you anymore, you don’t care about the harsh words that flew, and even an apology doesn’t seem quite as important as it once did. You miss the laughter and fun that had punctuated your time in Jackson and at this point, you just want your friend back.

“Look, Joel-“

“Hey-“

You try to speak at the same time and both chuckle self-consciously. “Ladies first,” he says, gesturing at you.

You bite your lip and take a deep breath, girding yourself.

“Look, I’m just gonna be straight with you. I hate that things have somehow gotten like this between us. It was…well, nothing happened so I don’t know why it feels so weird. Can we…I mean do you think we can get back to how it was before?”

“Well, I’d like that,” he replies softly, uncrossing his arms and holding out his hand. “Friends?”

“Uhhh, yes. Always,” you say. “But in this case its going to have to be a left handed handshake.”

He looks down at his hand and then at your arm in its sling and smiles to himself.

“It's still a bindin’ contract I hope,” he twinkles and you grin as you take his hand and shake it firmly.

And that, you hope, is that. Just you and Joel again. Buddies. A team.

“I was just gonna say that my original plan was to take Ellie out for her birthday trip tomorrow, weather permittin’,” he continues. “But if you feel like you want us next door, you tell me. I don’t wanna leave you here if you feel like you might need help.”

“Thank you,” you say warmly, meaning it with every ounce of your being. “But I think I’ll be okay. The doc said she’ll look in on me every day whether I want that or not, and I don’t doubt Vanessa will be keeping a close eye too. Stick to your plan. I wanna know every detail of what happens out there.”

You chat a little more, about everything and nothing, and a happy serenity settles itself into your heart. It was okay. You would be okay.

After Joel departs you begin work on your own plans for Ellie’s birthday. After the wretchedness of the presentation of her Christmas present, you wanted to make her birthday gift look as pretty as you could. So you set to decorating one of the old cardboard boxes that had been rescued from the shed with some of the colouring pencils you had taken from the museum gift shop, drawing and colouring stars, moons, comets and planets across the dull brown of the cardboard until almost every inch was filled with colour. It was slow going with only one working hand, but you manage and before you know it the sunlight is beginning to fade into a warm gold, streaming long through your windows as the sun sets.

You go up to your bedroom and place the gift on your dresser ready for when Joel and Ellie come back from their trip to the museum. You’re already planning what else you can do for her and decide to try and make a birthday cake. Nothing too fancy as supplies are limited, but you think some sort of sponge with homemade jam would be nice. The greenhouses might provide you with the berries that you needed and you might be able to scrounge up a little sugar too with some luck.

As you mull over your options, movement catches your eye from the window. Ellie is leaving her little studio and crossing the back lawn. She glances up to your house and catches sight of you, giving you a wave and then beckoning you to come down to her. By the time you’ve made your way downstairs, she is waiting at the front door.

“Wanna come over for dinner? I don’t imagine cooking will be easy with your arm in that thing, and Joel’s made fajitas. I’ve never had them before!”

You want to say that you think it over, that you consider if it would be too much to test your relationship with a visit so soon after calling a truce, but your stomach decides for you by giving an audible growl almost as soon as she’s finished speaking. She grins at the sound and you accompany her to the house next door.

The delicious smell of frying onions and spices hits you as soon as you walk in and it makes your mouth water. Ellie leads you through to the dining room where Joel is finishing up setting the table for three.

“Good thing I made extra,” he smiles as he places the plates down.

“Pfft! You were the one who told me to go get her and not take no for an answer!” Ellie fires back as she plonks herself into a seat.

“Need any help?” you ask Joel, a smile borne of the warmth of knowing that he wanted you there revealing itself inescapably across your face.

“Naw, you just sit down and relax. Ellie can do somethin’ for once,” he teases.

“Its my birthday week. I don’t have to help.”

“Birthday week?” Joel huffs dismissively. “What are you, the Queen of England?”

“Queen of Jackson,” she reminds him with a sly smile and he laughs as he returns to the kitchen to finish his preparations.

She watches him go, and as soon as he is she whips her head toward you, an eager expression on her face.

“Did Joel tell you what he’s got planned for my birthday? It is new DVDs? Is it a puppy? Is it a car?!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” you laugh. “What makes you think I know anything about it?”

“Oh you so do! I can tell.”

“My lips are sealed,” you inform her firmly as Joel comes back in the room, his hands protected from the heat of the pan he is carrying by large oven mitts.

“She badgerin’ you about her birthday?” he asks indulgently as he places the sizzling pot of food on a table mat.

“No!” Ellie protests innocently as you say “Maybe.”

“Traitor,” she whispers, narrowing her eyes at you.

“Well look,” he sighs as he settles into his chair. “I think I can reveal a little somethin’.” Ellie leans forward eagerly, listening intently, her eyes wide. “I’m takin’ you on a campin’ trip,” Joel announces.

“A camping trip?” Ellie asks, a small puzzled frown appearing on her face.

“Yup, just you an’ me. I uh…I found somethin’ you’re goin’ to absolutely love.” He rests his elbows on the table and covers his mouth with his hands, but not quickly enough to hide the huge grin that spreads over his face. It triggers your own and Ellie looks between you suspiciously through the steam rising from the pot on the table.

“You do know what it is!” she says accusingly.

“I am saying nothing,” you tell her. “But I am begging you, please can we eat? I’m so sick of fruit and porridge and this smells so damn good!”

It is damn good, and made all the better by being here with two of your favourite people, laughing and joking as if it had never been any other way. After dinner, Joel makes tea for you all and you sit in his living room, bathed in soft lamplight and the warm glow of friendship, and when Ellie goes to bed you don’t make your excuses to leave and she smiles delightedly at you as she leaves through the back door.

“I’m gonna make her a birthday cake when you get back,” you confess to Joel, smiling yourself as you hear the door close softly behind her.

“Oh man! She’ll love that,” he says enthusiastically. “Not sure she’s ever had one before. Those FEDRA fucks probably weren’t much for birthdays.”

“Probably not,” you agree. “I’ve just gotta get some ingredients. Some fruit to make jam and stuff.”

Joel’s face is almost comically eager as he jumps up. “Wait right there,” he instructs, and before you can tease him about being too comfortable to go anywhere he rushes back into the kitchen and returns almost immediately holding a small jar in his hands along with a spoon.

“Would this help?” he says, a slightly smug undertone to his voice as he unscrews the lid and offers it to you.

“I was going to make my own, but holy shit yes!” you exclaim. “Thank you!”

“Try a bit,” he offers, giving you the spoon.

The pure, delectable sweetness of strawberries explodes on your tongue and you close your eyes and hum your delight, savouring the taste. You couldn’t remember the last time you had tasted anything quite so decadent, certainly not in the last decade.

“Hey, don’t eat it all!” he jokes as you go in for another spoonful. “Gimmie that!”

He also dips the spoon in for a tiny bit of the treat and he too makes a rumbling hum of repletion, a sound that isn’t intentionally sexual but sounds very much like it to your ears just because it’s him. You try to focus on the kind thing he is doing for you and Ellie instead, and thank him for the gift again.

Tiredness begins to creep up on you an hour or so later, and your shoulder is starting to feel a little achey and sore but you don’t want this evening to end, perfect as it has been. Joel notes your discomfort and provides some mild painkillers that help to ease it into something manageable again. You chat, mostly about Ellie’s surprise and how much she’s going to love it, but you begin to feel a gap at the centre of the conversation, a black hole that needs to be addressed. It seems like neither of you want to risk stirring up any bad feeling so soon, but you also feel as if you just want to talk it through once and for all and put what happened as firmly in the past as you can. To your surprise, Joel breaches the subject first.

“I uh…look, I don’t want us to start arguin’ again, but I feel like there’s somethin’ I gotta say.”

You shift your body so you’re facing him more fully across the small space between you on the sofa.

“Okay,” you say, feeling a little twinge of nervousness in your gut.

“I’m sorry,” he says, bluntly. “I’m sorry for sayin’ what I said at the clinic and I’m sorry for actin’ the way I did before that. It started off because I wanted to give you some space and then it just got outta hand.”

The apology takes you by surprise, but not as much as the reasoning behind his strange behaviour over the past month or so and you frown in confusion. “Give me space?”

He nods. “That last night we were out there. I couldn’t sleep while you were on watch. I was just thinkin’ and thinkin’. I couldn’t shut off. I felt like what I had done…well what I had nearly done…I felt like I took advantage of you.”

Your frown grows deeper as your confusion grows and a disbelieving smile curls the corners of your mouth.

“I didn’t exactly run away, Joel.”

“No, I know. But when you were talkin’ about Jacob that evenin’ you were obviously still upset by the whole thing. And I remember before when you told Ellie you couldn’t think about that stuff and gettin' close to people and I felt like I had just kinda…I dunno, I guess intruded on a part of your life that you weren’t ready to deal with. I feel like I forced it. And I had no idea how to make it right. And-“ he takes a deep breath and sighs it out heavily before continuing, now looking down at his hands where they rest on his denim clad thighs rather than at you. “Talkin’ about Tess wasn’t exactly easy for me either. She’s been gone nearly two years and I sorta put everythin’ I had into Ellie and keepin’ her safe. I mourned her, but you know what this shit’s like. It bites you on the ass when you least expect it.”

A pang strikes your heart. For the sound of Jacob's name spoken by Joel in this beautiful place, in this time of comfort and security that you could never have possibly envisaged when you were with him all those years ago. For Joel himself that he had wanted so badly for you to feel okay, that he had thought he had overstepped by wanting to be closer to you and for the emotions all of this must have stirred up around his own past entanglements.

You don't want to stop him when he's so clearly ready to talk and so you merely mutter “Don’t I know it,” and he smiles sadly before looking back up at you.

“Afterward I tried to put some distance between us because I…I just didn’t know how to be around you. I know I shouldn't have taken that decision for you but I didn't know what else to do. And I was pissed that I’d put us both in that position in the first place. And then the longer we didn’t talk the worse it got, and then when you were gonna take Ellie out…I was scared. I was scared of losin’ her.”

You nod your understanding. “I know. But I would never-“

“Have let anything happen to her. I know. I know you’d protect her with everythin’ you had. If I didn’t then I wouldn’t let her go with you. But…but I was scared of losin’ you too. Especially ‘cause we hadn’t been right for a while. And when you came through those gates and I heard Ellie yellin’ for help I just ran. I got to the gate and damn near caught you out of the saddle. There was so much blood, I couldn’t tell if you were bit or shot or…or dead. It was such a relief when I saw you open your eyes the next day. And then when I went home everythin’ just kinda came upon me. I was so damn angry. At myself more than anyone. That I could have prevented it if I’d just stopped bein’ a horse’s ass and come with you that day.”

Your heart twinges again, this time at the truth and vulnerability that he's showing and at his admission of both the trust he has placed in you and his affection. You want him to feel better. You want to make him feel better.

“It was an accident, Joel,” you say softly. “It’s not your fault. If it’s anyone’s it’s mine for not killing that runner properly the first time. And the important thing is that Ellie is fine.”

He shakes his head in a tiny, unconscious gesture. “That’s just it,” he says. “That’s not the only important thing. Not any more. And it took you nearly dyin’ for me to see it. And then the first thing I do is give you shit for it.”

“Well, I’ll admit, that didn’t feel great,” you confess, scooting closer to him on the sofa and placing your hand on his. You can't stop yourself from stroking your thumb softly over his fingers and he looks up sharply, as if he hadn't expected such a motion. You stop the movement abruptly, thinking you might have gone too far too fast, but instead he immediately covers your hand with his, trapping it between his calloused palm and the softer skin you feel below, and his eyes are softening the longer his gaze lingers on you.

“And you not talking to me felt pretty awful too. I didn't know what I'd done wrong. I didn't think I had done anything wrong. But you've apologised and I accept your apology. As for the other stuff…it’s not all on you. Like I say, I wasn’t exactly running away from you that day. I’d never told anyone about Jacob, and it was hard to talk about. But it wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it was gonna be, because I knew you understood. Stop beating yourself up about that afternoon, okay?"

His eyes are deep and dark as they meet yours, only the soft yellow of the lamplight reflected within. He squeezes your hand gently, a small smile gracing his beautiful lips and the nervousness you were feeling has now morphed into a low hum of excitement that trills through you as you realise that this is the closest you’ve been since that moment under the lashing rain and the dripping trees. His hand is engulfing you with its warmth and its size and you suddenly cannot drag your eyes from his lips, remembering how close they were to yours and fuck you’re still holding his hand, but he’s still holding yours too and as you look up you see that his eyes have a spark of that same hunger you saw before. He shuffles a little nearer, drawing closer and pulling your hand slowly toward him and even though you don’t know what he’s doing, of course you’re going along with him, stopping is the last thing on this earth you want to do and…why is he doing this? Gently placing your hand on to his chest with his above it, and you can feel soft flannel, firm muscle and his thrumming heart under it all. His other hand is at your cheek, stroking it with his thumb and the utmost tenderness and you melt into his touch, pressing your cheek more firmly against his skin-

“Mmmfphhh.” You wince as you try to muffle the noise of pain behind your teeth, and Joel’s eyes widen in panic as he drops his hands from you.

“Shit, are you okay?!”

“Yeah, just…fucking shoulder. I’m still getting used to the ways I can move, and more importantly the ways I can’t. My neck did not like what I just did.” You cradle your elbow in its sling and breathe out an exasperated sigh. When you look back at Joel you can tell that whatever spell had passed between you over the past few minutes had definitely been broken as he was now looking at you with nothing but concern.

“I’ll be okay,” you reassure him. “But uh…I should probably get going. You need to be up early tomorrow. And I should get some sleep. Thank you so much for dinner. It was amazing.”

“Anytime,” he replies softly as he follows your lead and stands up. “You want me to walk you over?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just focus on making sure Ellie keeps her surprise a surprise. I don’t doubt she’s got ways and means of finding out anything she wants!”

He grins at that and bids you goodnight at the door, and you walk the short distance back to your own house, your mind whirling.

Fuck. You had wanted to make things better with Joel, and that had definitely been achieved but Christ hadn’t this complicated the situation all over again? What the fuck had you been thinking. What the fuck had he been thinking? Were either of you thinking at all? You jog up the steps of your porch, enter your house and close the door behind you, and begin walking up the stairs when there is a harsh and urgent knocking at the door.

You’ve barely opened it before he steps inside and his hands cup your face as he presses his lips to yours. They’re so much softer than you’d imagined, even with the prickle of his moustache against you. Your breath hitches as you part your lips and the ragged, hoarse moan that rumbles from his chest as you open yourself to him makes your knees weak. But he’s there to catch you, one hand now around your waist as you realise you’re desperately clinging one-handed to the flannel of his shirt. His mouth moves softly against your lips and his tongue runs tentatively against yours making you shiver, making you grab him harder, feeling the tensed muscle of his back, pressing yourself as close to him as you can be, your breath coming stunted as you melt into the sweetness of strawberries and sugar. Fire and want ripples in tingling waves from your lips, and you give a ravenous, breathy call of your own, your body answering his. You don’t want this to end, you never want this to end, but it does, it has to. It peters out slowly, softly. He’s kissing you as if he’s mapping you, committing you to memory. A gentle peppering of desire and adoration. And when he stops he doesn’t pull away. You feel the press of his forehead against yours, the ends of your noses bumping together.

“I couldn’t go…I didn’t want to go tomorrow without…I needed to…”

He starts and stops all of his sentences but you know what he’s trying to say and he doesn’t need to because you feel it too. You tilt your face up to catch his faltering words with your mouth, run your hand up his neck and bury your fingers in his soft waves as you pour every stolen glance, every tender daydream, every desirous thought you ever had about him into this perfect moment.

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endlesslystarlitskies · 2 years ago

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Lost and Found- Part 1

A/N: Okay, here is the official first chapter, edited and extended. I am still playing the game so I don’t know how long it will be until the next chapters come out, but hopefully it will be soon. I am going to try to have each chapter follow the chapters in the game, but this one is already pretty long, so I don’t know how that will work out. Do you guys like long chapters, or no? Just let me know. And please give me all the constructive criticisms! Especially with how I am portraying Leon. I am trying to be accurate but I may be slipping up. If so, just let me know. I will continue to leave physical characteristics out of it so you can put yourself in Ella’s shoes, though it is She/Her pronouns. I just don’t like the way Y/N looks in a story, so hopefully that works for you guys. If enough people request it, I might change it. I don’t know. I want everyone to be able to read it. Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Named Reader (Named but not Described) Genre: Horror, action, adventure, Slow-Burn, Romance Summary: Ella was one of the missing hikers who was kidnapped by the villagers. She narrowly escaped being sacrificed, but her friends weren’t so lucky. Managing to survive out in the woods with her previous skills and knowledge, she runs into Leon, and that meeting begins the longest, most dangerous adventure of her life as she tries to help him save the girl she saw being taken into the church. What will happen along the way? Only one way to find out. Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, suicidal ideations mentioned, Ella has little regard for her own life and is dealing with the loss of someone closest to her while also fighting to survive with waning self-preservation instincts. Please be cautious if that triggers you. Word Count: 6,812

Story Masterlist

xXx

It was quiet, the sun high in the sky as the farm animals calmly picked at the limited food around them without a care in the world. It appeared to be a normal day, with a couple of villagers going about their business tending to the area, and at first glance, one would assume that everything was as it should be; however, after spending four days running and hiding in the woods, Ella knew better.

She crouched behind the old, worn down wooden shelter, peeking around the corner to get a look at the villager who had his back to her, his focus on the object in his hands which gave Ella an opening to sneak up behind him.

Her heart was beginning to race in her chest, and Ella had to take a deep breath to calm her nerves as she readied to put herself in another dangerous situation. She really did not want to risk going into this small settlement of the village, and if it weren’t for the fact that she was starving, she would still be in the woods where there was a significantly lower chance of engaging with anyone, but she would never make it out of this hell if she didn’t keep her strength up as much as possible. The mint leaves, dandelions, and few other edible plants she found weren’t cutting it anymore.

Fortunately, Ella could see that there weren’t many villagers around from the woods, only noticing the one in her view and another woman behind the barn, who wouldn’t be able to see her take out the man.

Gripping the rusty kitchen knife tightly in her hand, she began to slowly stalk forward, keeping low as to not be noticeable. Her combat boots made it hard to keep her foot falls quiet, but she had gotten used to walking lightly over the past few days, as she had been doing a lot of sneaking around, and she was to the point that her steps made virtually no sound.

Because of this, the villager was none the wiser, and as she neared the front of the building, she looked around to make sure there was no one else. She could see the slightest movement of a pitchfork that she knew was the woman she had already accounted for, but otherwise, it was clear.

Moving forward once more, she did her best to not disturb the animals that spilled out of the barn, lest she startle them and give herself away, and she managed to sneak up right behind the male villager, keeping her breathing quiet as she assessed her best move. He was a bit taller than her, but she would have to work around that, it being far too late for her to turn back now.

She had enough knowledge to know where the jugular was, and with a quickness she had gathered over the course of the last few days, she stood up straight, jabbing the knife deep into his neck and moving her hand around to cover his mouth to keep him quiet. He flailed lightly, but his body began to drop, and Ella did her best to help him fall quietly. However, grown men were heavy, and she stumbled back, falling on her ass as the man’s body thumped to the ground. She grimaced, looking behind her and praying the other villager behind the barn hadn’t heard anything. She was met with silence, and after a few moments, Ella determined the coast to be clear.

She looked to the dead villager in front of her, doing her best to ignore the twist of her heart at the sight of his wide, lifeless eyes; blood still spilling out of his neck and seeping into the dirt below him. This was the third person she had to kill since coming on this trip. Beforehand, she had never even punched another person outside of her defense classes, Ella being a pacifist for the most part. She knew these people were infected with something that made them violent and homicidal, and they wouldn’t even bat an eyelash while gutting her, but that didn’t change the fact that Ella was killing other human beings.

It was a fact she couldn’t dwell on if she wanted to survive and escape the this place, turning away from the dead man and pushing him from her mind. She couldn’t stay in one place for too long, and she still had to clear the small barn area, or she risked being caught as she tried to cook her meal.

Getting up, she dusted her torn and dirtied tights off as much as she could, before wiping the bloodied blade of her deteriorating knife on the dead villagers clothes, her eyes purposefully avoiding his face. She would have to find another one soon, the one in her hand visibly about to break.

She straightened her back, turning around and beginning to slowly walk forward to gain a better view from behind the barn to where the other villager had been. As she got closer and closer, she saw the hay, but not the pitchfork, her brows furrowing. They must have left, but then where did they go? Ella stopped, her eyes widening as she took in the limp body of the female villager, questioning what had happened and if the woman had just died suddenly.

Ella supposed it was possible considering the infection, but she hadn’t seen them just keel over before; however, what was the alternative? Was there someone else here?

The very thought made her heart pound. She had just adjusted to the villagers and the large man in the hat and robe walking about. What else could there be?

It was then that Ella heard the slightest sound of movement behind her, the hair on the back of her neck standing as panic rose within her. Every possibility ran through her mind in a single second, her fight instincts kicking in as she spun around, ready to do whatever she had to to defend herself. However, what was behind her made her heart stop and her mind reel.

A gun was pointed at her, the man behind it giving her a suspicious and cautious look. He appeared. . .normal, and not from around here, with his not pale and sickly skin, steel blue instead of red eyes, relatively clean clothes, and damning of all- the gear she could see peeking out from his jacket.

An outsider. Possibly a police officer, or an agent. She didn’t know, but maybe he was someone here to deal with whatever was going on in this hellhole, hope blooming in her chest for the first time in days.

Finally coming back to herself, Ella immediately put her hands up and dropped her knife, showing she meant no harm.

“Wait-” She breathed, her throat a bit hoarse considering she hadn’t used it since escaping. “I’m not like them- I’m not infected.” She tried to explain in a rushed and panicked voice, but her mind was still reeling from the shock of suddenly running into someone who wasn’t a villager here. “I-I was out here hiking with friends, but we- we were attacked, and I escaped,” He still wasn’t saying anything, his eyes not moving from hers. Ella could only assume he wanted her to continue. “I just want to get out of here and go home, please. I swear I’m telling the truth.” Surely he could tell she wasn’t a villager, with her combat boots, black tights, dark jean shorts, black t-shirt, and dark green flannel. He had to know she was telling the truth, because why else would she be out here in the middle of nowhere? People had to have reported their group missing.

The blonde man seemed to take in her words, considering them a few moments before he lowered his gun, holstering it. Ella let out a breath of relief, though a dark part of her mind that had surfaced since this hell had started, wondered if him shooting her would have been the best thing for her after everything she had endured. She ignored it, her waning self-preservation instincts shoving the thoughts into a faraway corner.

“How long have you been out here?” He spoke for the first time, a gruffness to his voice that hinted to a tortured past.

“Um. . .a few days. I think four,” She answered as she tried to think back to how many nights had passed. She had stopped keeping track and instead focused on surviving. This man didn’t seem like he was one for facial expressions, but the twitch of his eyebrow made Ella think he was shocked. Sensing his curiosity, Ella moved her flannel shirt to the side, revealing a metal water bottle hanging at her hip. The bottom of it had an orangish to dark brown to black gradient, revealing it had been burnt multiple times.

“I boil water and add iodine tablets for good measure, I know some edible plants, though there aren’t many around here, I was about to kill a chicken, and these villagers leave a lot of kitchen knives lying around.” She answered his unspoken questions, and when he didn’t say anything, she shrugged. “I was the survivalist nut of my friends,” She murmured, leaving the explanation at that. The very mention of her friends sent a sharp pain through her heart and she had to quickly think about something else.

“It shows.” Was all he said in response, before turning his head to scan their surroundings. When he noticed the dead villager on the ground, he glanced at her once more, but didn’t say anything about it.

She waited for him to ask anything else, but he was quiet, Ella wondering what he was thinking. His expression was well guarded, making it almost impossible to tell, but after a moment, he reached into a large pouch at his hip, before holding something out for her. Her brows furrowed as she looked to see what it was, taking in the wrapping and the words across the front.

It was a granola bar. Food.

Without another word, she practically snatched the snack from his hand, unable to find it in herself to care as she almost tore it open with her teeth. She refrained, opting to tear the wrapping with her fingers and making sure not to waste a single bit.

“Thank you.” She breathed, relieved she didn’t have to kill a defenseless animal for now. He nodded in acknowledgement, before he moved to the open building to look around as Ella focused on her food.

She was careful not to eat too fast, taking a couple bites before unclipping her water bottle and taking a swig. It didn’t taste great, especially compared to the honey flavored granola, but when you were in survival mode, it didn’t matter how the water tasted. Just that it was clean. Despite trying not to eat fast, it wasn’t long before the granola bar was practically gone, Ella turned to the man as her curiosity grew.

Her eyes took him in for a few moments. He wore a leather jacket with a navy blue shirt underneath, black jeans and boots, and a pouch that clipped around his thigh. She had also taken notice of the fingerless gloves and combat belt that was at his waist when he had the gun to her face. He was ready for a fight, that was for sure.

“So what about you? You look prepared, you’ve clearly come out here on purpose for who knows what reason, and you don’t seem like a cop to me.” He stopped at that, turning his head enough for her to know he was listening to her. “Why are you here? Did someone you know come out here and go missing?” She probably shouldn’t pry, but he was the first non-infected person she could talk to in days.

“Something like that.” He grabbed a green herb that was growing into the barn, picking a piece off the stem and putting it into his pouch. He had more knowledge on plants and herbs than she did, as she had no idea what he had just grabbed.

“Does it happen to be a young girl? Blonde, kinda like you?” She went out on a limb, and it was the correct one, because his eyes snapped to her, the most emotion she had seen from him thus far showing in his expression.

“You’ve seen her?” He questioned, having clearly been traveling blind thus far.

“Yeah, they carried her into the church up on the hill. I tried to help her but. . .she was surrounded and all I have are these crappy knives. I was hoping to get help once I got out of here.” If the girl, or herself for that matter, lived that long.

After everything Ella had lost, the last thing she had wanted to do was leave that young girl by herself with the villagers, but she knew going in with just a rusty, deteriorating knife wasn’t going to be of any help to her, and her best bet was finding help. It seemed she had found some much sooner than she thought.

“The church. . .” He was speaking mostly to himself, taking in the information Ella had given him. Ella wondered if it was the first piece of information on the girl the man had gotten since coming here.

“Yeah, it’s that way.” She pointed in the direction she had come from, the man's eyes following her finger. His brows were furrowed lightly in determination, and Ella could easily see that getting that girl back was important to him.

She didn’t know why. The girl seemed a little young to be his girlfriend, but maybe she was his family. They were both blonde, but that was about where the resemblance ended. To be fair, Ella hadn’t gotten a great look at her.

“Is she your sister or-?” She asked, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t get an answer. This man was very clearly reserved, and he didn’t talk more than he had to.

As suspected, he looked back to the area around him, preparing to leave without answering. Ella pursed her lips, unsure of what happened next.

Was he going to leave her here? That was likely for the best since he was venturing deeper into the area and she was trying to leave it, but at the same time, she had no idea if she was going to make it out alive by herself. She didn’t even have a sure way out of here, having just been winging it thus far and hoping for the best.

That, and the girl kept flashing into her mind. Ella couldn’t shake the guilt of leaving her behind even though Ella knew there was nothing she could have done for the girl. All she could think about was Alice’s terrified expression right before-

Her heart twisted, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to push the feelings down.

“If you’re going to save her, I want to come with you.” The words were spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them, but she looked at him with determination nonetheless. He met her eyes then, his expression unreadable.

“I know some basic self defense, and I’ve clearly handled myself this far. Plus, I don’t think I’m going to make it if I keep going on alone anyway, so I don’t have anything to lose,” She explained before he could reject the idea. “I won’t get in your way. I just want to help.” She hoped that would be enough to convince him, but his expression made her believe that he was unsure.

“Look. . .I lost the most important person in my life to these cult assholes. If there’s a chance I can help stop whatever the fuck is going on here, and save someone in the process, I want to take it. Even if I die trying.” She hadn’t been kidding when she said she had nothing to lose. Alice had been everything she had, and she was gone. Ella could do nothing but watch as those people in robes murdered her on the stone table. She didn’t want to sit by anymore.

And truthfully, she didn’t see a life for herself after all of this. Not after everything that happened. Not without Alice. So if she was going to die, it might as well be trying to do something good, like saving someone else’ person.

“Also, you don’t seem like the kind of guy who leaves people behind so. . .” Maybe that was a low blow, and for all she knew he was the type, but it was her last ditch effort. She saw his chest fall in exhale, and she knew then that she had read him right.

What she hadn’t expected, however, was for him to grab another handgun from his waist belt, holding it out for her.

“Do you know how to use this?” He asked her, seemingly doing some of his own reading. Ella looked to the black weapon, reaching out to take and examine it. She tested the weight of it, and noted its specs, before looking back up at him.

“Well enough,” She answered, and it was true. She knew he knew that by the way he had watched how she handled it- the way she purposefully kept her finger off the trigger, and how she checked to make sure the safety was on, as well as the way she seemed to know how it was meant to be held.

Ella had handled guns when she was younger. Her dad, who also taught her all the survival skills she knew, wanted her to know how to use one. Ella didn’t like guns, and because of that she had left the skills in the past, but considering their situation, she knew this was an exception.

She’d get the hang of it quickly, considering it had only been a few years since she last handled one and she remembered the gist of it.

The man seemed satisfied with her answer and his own analysis on whether or not she should have a firearm, turning as he continued his exploration of the area around them. She tucked the gun in the waistband of her shorts before grabbing her dropped knife and moving to follow him. Her waistband wasn’t the safest place to keep the weapon, but she didn’t have much of a choice so it would have to do.

“What are you looking for?” She questioned curiously. Maybe she could help if she knew what he was searching for. Because she had come from the woods, she didn’t really know the area, but two sets of eyes were better than one.

“A way to open the gate.” He answered simply, proving that once again he was not a man of many words.

“Gate?” She had not seen one when she snuck into the area, but she hadn’t been looking for it, concerned more with the animals and the amount of villagers nearby.

“Do you know another way around?” He didn’t look her way as he talked to her, not slowing down for even a moment as he now had a clear direction to go thanks to Ella.

“Not a quick way.” She sighed, knowing that going through the woods wasn’t a good idea. First, she had almost gotten lost multiple times, and she was lucky she knew how to tell where North was. Second, it would take a while if they went the way she came, because there was a fence that she had to find an opening in to get to here.

Something told her he’d rather go through than around if it meant saving time, and with that, she began looking around herself.

Eventually, they found their way into the windmill, and Ella stayed behind as the man climbed the ladder to the top.

After some rustling and shuffling, Ella contemplated going up herself, not being a very patient person. Especially in this situation she had found herself in.

“We need to find a wooden cog.” His voice called down just as she moved to climb up. A wooden cog? She didn’t remember seeing one anywhere they looked.

“Oh, maybe it’s in the barn!” She suggested. They hadn’t been able to find a way in, but perhaps there was a way from up there as she remembered seeing a wooden platform on the outside. “I’ll head that way.” AKA, she stayed where she was to wait for him to open up the barn from the outside. Fair enough.

She sighed, crossing her arms as she awaited any news or a sound from him that told her if he found a way in. She began to look around the windmill for something to do, and she noticed another green plant just like the one he grabbed before. Hm. He clearly wanted them, right? Doing as he did, she grabbed a sprig of it, putting it into her back pocket.

There wasn’t anything else of interest, and she no longer heard him walking around above her. Taking that as her que to head to the barn, she left the windmill, and it was then that she noticed the large man with a boar head and a giant hammer, her eyes widening.

“Hey!” She shouted just as he slammed the large hammer into the wood of the barn, hoping to get the guys (she should really figure out his name) attention, as well as the boar man.

She pulled out her gun, ready to test her neglected skills as she took a moment to aim, before opening fire. The recoil shocked her, as she hadn’t remembered how that felt, but hopefully the shot still landed.

She barely managed to get him in the side of the head, which was close enough to where she had been aiming, but the thing didn’t even flinch. To make matters worse, other villagers were spilling into the area.

Before she could think of what to do next, a loud bang rang through the air, making her flinch and look to the barn in shock.

The boar man was on his knees, and the guy came out with a shotgun, before landing a spin kick to the creature's head.

What the- where the hell did this guy come from?!

She couldn’t focus on that, deciding to take care of the villagers that were on their way to him. She took aim again, and this time when she fired a head shot, it was effective.

Feeling more confident than she had in days, she stepped forward, focusing on the villagers while the man took care of the bigger threat. There were quite a few, but soon the last fell to the ground just as the blonde finished his threat off. Ella was glad that she had remembered her previous gun lessons, because otherwise she would still be running off into the woods and hoping for the best when she alerted the villagers.

“What the hell was that?” She questioned as the adrenaline slowly left her body, turning to the man as she lowered her gun and focused back on what she had seen him do.

“I’m not sure.” He responded, clearly thinking she had been asking about the boar head villager.

“No, not him. You. That was skilled training. Knowing how to use multiple kinds of guns, remaining calm under this kind of pressure, and that spin kick? Who are you?” She couldn’t help but ask, having not expected that from him. He reloaded his shotgun, seemingly contemplating his answer, and it was then Ella knew she wouldn’t be receiving one.

“I’ll explain later. Let’s go.” He replaced the shotgun on his back, which had been hidden behind his jacket, before grabbing the wooden cog they had been looking for off a table and walking past her.

Ella took a moment to process, before letting out a sigh and turning to follow him. She supposed who he was didn’t matter, but she still wished she knew a little more about her new traveling companion.

He was back up the ladder a little bit later to place the cog in its rightful place, and it was then that Ella decided to ask a question that she really hoped she’d get an answer for.

“Can you at least tell me your name?” She called, though a moment later she heard the mechanism start and the creaking of the door sound from outside, Ella turning her head to look as if she’d be able to see it opening from inside the windmill.

It was then that the man decided ladders were unnecessary, jumping down and practically startling Ella to death as she flinched lightly, letting out a breath and putting a hand to her heart as she willed it to calm down.

“Leon Kennedy.” He answered, and Ella could have sworn there was a hint of amusement in his eyes and a smirk pulling at his lips as he walked past her again.

She narrowed her eyes at him and followed him out, her look turning into a half heartedly glare at the back of his head as they passed through the gate.

“Ella Monroe.” She returned, deciding to keep her full first name to herself. She hated it anyway and no one but her father called her by it when he had the pleasure of ever speaking to her. He didn’t respond, but she knew he had heard her. Even if he hadn’t, it probably wouldn’t matter anyway considering he didn’t speak much.

Letting it go and focusing on the journey, it only took a moment of walking before they came across something that made Ella stop in her tracks.

“Oh hell no.” She found herself saying as she took in the rickety old wooden bridge. Leon turned to look at her with raised brows then. She could practically see the question in his eyes. “Oh come on, that looks so unstable.” She pointed out (even though it wasn’t really true), but he didn’t budge, and she sighed, relenting.

She guessed he could see that she had as he started forward once more, and Ella pushed the fear from her mind as she reluctantly followed behind him.

“I said I wanted to die helping out your friend. Not falling to my death after going over an obviously deteriorating bridge.” She grumbled, missing the way Leon’s steps faltered just slightly as she was too busy looking over the edge of the rope. Wasn’t looking down something they told you not to do? Even so, she found that she couldn’t help herself.

All it showed her was that if she fell, it would probably be an instant death because she couldn’t see the ground, so there was that. This trip was already putting her in life threatening danger.

But, she supposed that’s exactly what she wanted.

xXx

There was a large door on the other side of the bridge, but it was locked.

“Maybe there’s another way in?” Ella suggested as she began to scale the wall. She went around the left side, Leon going around the right, (not that there was much on that side), but it was no use.

Her side came to a dead end, and the wooden fence was impossible to climb with its spiked tops. Meeting Leon back around, she shook her head.

“Nothing.” They would need to find a way to open the large wooden doors.

“How did you get through before?” Leon asked her, and she wished she had a good answer for him.

“I didn’t. I was in the woods, over there,” She gestured in the direction to the left of the wall, and Leon sighed. “I could see down into the area, but I haven’t been in it.” Ella looked around, hoping to see anything that might help them get through, and that was when she noticed the wagon. “Oh, look!” She pointed. She was sure Leon had noticed that before, but he didn’t think they’d have to go that way. But maybe they could find a way around. It was really all they had right now.

She moved over to the back of the wagon, though she almost gagged at the scent surrounding it. A dead bull was inside, flies buzzing all around it as Ella swiped one out of the air in front of her. The bull would make it heavier and harder to push, but it wouldn’t stop them.

“Gross.” She murmured, before holding her breath as she pressed her palms against the wood, attempting to push it out of the way. It moved just a bit, but she definitely wasn’t going to be able to get it on her own, Ella letting out a grunt at the effort before giving up. She looked to Leon, who was watching her in amusement, his arms crossed. “A little help would be nice.” She sassed, a smirk tugging at the edges of his lips.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” He really thought he was funny didn’t he? “Move over.” He told her, and she rolled her eyes before she did as he said, giving him room to push as well. With his help, the wagon practically slid out of the way, Ella almost falling forward onto her face as she let out a yelp, catching herself.

She was pretty sure she hadn’t even helped much. Leon, seeming very pleased with himself, began walking forward down the path.

“Well, I’m glad I could help wipe that permanent scowl off your face. It definitely makes you a little softer on the eyes.” She huffed, her jab of course halfhearted, and he looked at her, the amusement still there. The fact that he didn’t respond only annoyed her further, and she felt like throwing her hands up in defeat, to which he seemed to chuckle the slightest bit at.

She had only spent a little over a half hour with him, and she could already tell he was hopeless. However, if she was being honest with herself, this banter between them was a great distraction to keep her mind from wandering to everything that had happened, and she appreciated that immensely.

The way she could tell he had a comedic side to him that seemed to be suppressed told her he had been through some heavy things as well, and maybe, just maybe, he knew at least some of what she was going through. Maybe he knew he was helping her stay afloat in a shitty situation.

That was a lot to assume about someone she just met, and maybe she was projecting, but she had a feeling.

Either way, she- “Watch out!” Ella reached over, grabbing ahold of his arm with both hands and pulling him out of the way of a flying ax, the blade just missing his shoulder. They had been too distracted to notice the villager rounding the corner, and it was then they shouted out to the others. Leon readied his gun, and Ella followed suit.

These bastards were everywhere.

xXx

“You’re welcome by the way.” She pointed out as she checked the ammo on her gun. She was just about to run out.

Taking care of the villagers they had stumbled on hadn’t taken too long, Ella getting better and better the more she used her gun. Killing the villagers was still making the weight in her chest grow, but she was trying to accept that she didn’t have a choice if she wanted to survive long enough to help the girl out. She reminded herself of that every time she watched a villager's body fall limply to the ground, combatting the guilt in the only way she could.

“Thanks.” She looked up at him, a little surprised he had actually said it as she had only been joking around. She definitely wouldn’t complain.

She had been very conscious about not getting in his way, so to actually be helpful was a big plus.

“You’re welcome.” She smiled, her words more genuine this time. She was clearly satisfied with herself, and Leon had to refrain from shaking his head. “By the way, do you have any ammo in there?” She asked hopefully. Leon reached into the pouch at his side, his hand seemingly disappearing right into the thing before he held out bullets.

“What is that? Mary Poppins’ pouch?” She asked in surprise as she took the bullets and began reloading her gun.

“It holds what I need it to, for now.” Leon responded, though he seemed to find the reference entertaining, it showing in the slightly raised pitch of his voice.

“Oh, so he can show emotion in his voice.” She teased, though she was glad she could get a reaction other than a smirk out of him. With that, he rolled his eyes, making her laugh lightly as she put the rest of the bullets in the pocket of her flannel. That would hopefully hold them, and she buttoned the top for good measure.

“Alright, we’re coming up on another small village. Stay low and quiet.” He instructed, and she nodded, following behind him as he began to move forward.

There was a small shack leading up to the settlement, and the sound of beeping could be heard as they neared.

Was that a tripwire? Ella hadn’t even known they had those, but considering all her traveling was done in the woods, she wouldn’t have come across one.

Fortunately, Leon seemed to know how to disarm it, making it a non-issue as long as they kept a lookout for them.

“You’re going to have to teach me how to do that.” She murmured, thinking that useful information considering the situation they were in.

He nodded, moving forward before putting his back against the wall, and Ella knew he was going to survey the area beyond the shack to get an idea what they were up against, staying out of the way and hanging back.

“There’s a few of them, and it seems they have bear traps scattered around.” Leon stated as he looked around the edge, Ella nodding.

“Okay, what if we split up? This area is bigger than the barn, and maybe we can clear it faster.” She suggested, though Leon didn’t immediately seem on board with that plan, his look of disapproval showing.

“Oh come on,” She sighed. “I promised I wouldn’t get in the way, right? And you need to find a way to that church sooner rather than later. This will get us through faster. Besides, if you refuse, I’ll take that as an insult to my survival skills and assume you don’t think of me as capable of taking care of myself.” She gave him a pointed look. She knew that he was just concerned that she would get herself hurt, but she didn’t want him worrying about her. It would slow them down and take up more time if he was trying to keep her close and watch over her, which was the last thing either of them wanted.

Leon seemed to consider her words, before relenting.

“Shout if you need help.” He told her, Ella unable to hold back her grin of satisfaction at succeeding.

“I won’t, don’t worry.” He wasn’t happy with that. Whether she meant she wouldn’t need help, or she wouldn’t shout for him, she didn’t clarify, which seemed to be the main reason for his unhappiness.

She just winked, and he sighed through his nose in disapproval, but didn’t comment further, already catching on that it wouldn’t change anything.

He was a fast learner; she’d give him that.

“You go on ahead and find the best way through or anything useful. I’ll stay back and make sure the villagers to the right are taken care of and no more show up. Deal?” She suggested, and he nodded in acceptance.

“Watch the traps.” He warned.

“You too. And be careful.” She returned, and he nodded his head at her, Ella knowing he was returning the sentiment. With that, he went forward first, and Ella was right behind him, taking care of the villagers to the right so he didn’t have to worry about his back. She had realized thanks to the crop of villagers on the way here that she needed to be more frugal with her ammo, so she decided she’d use the bear traps to her advantage. She shoved a villager into it, watching as the teeth of the trap clamped down on his leg, leaving him immobilized and allowing her to use the kitchen knife she had, stabbing him through the neck.

Unfortunately, the knife broke in his flesh, and Ella cursed to herself as she threw the handle down. So much for her plan to save ammo. She’d just have to try and make every shot a kill shot.

She got through her portion of villagers, letting out a sigh as she checked her ammo. She still had a bit left, but it wouldn’t last her long.

She noticed one of the cabins had an open window, thinking maybe it would be good to check it out. She didn’t see Leon, but she wasn’t worried. Even in the small amount of time they knew each other, she knew he could take care of himself just fine. She’d go on ahead to look for him and see what he found in a moment.

For now, she jumped through the window of the cabin, gun at the ready in case there were any straggling villagers. Fortunately, it was clear, and as she searched the small house, she found another kitchen knife, smiling.

See? They just leave them lying around everywhere.

With that being the only useful thing she found, she moved to exit back through the window, but movement caught her eye.

Her eyes widened as she noticed the large man in the hat and robe walk through the small village, her eyes widening as she quickly ducked out of sight.

She had seen him around the village before, and he always gave her a really bad feeling. He was different from the others. He seemed to have authority over the villagers, and he was clearly more intelligent and in control, like him.

She quickly shoved all thoughts of him from her mind and focused on the threat at hand. There was no way she could take him with the limited skills and ammo she had. Hell, she didn’t know if Leon could take him.

Leon.

He was going in the same direction her new companion had.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Ella murmured as she began to panic, looking out the window and seeing that he was gone. She had to do something, but what?

She jumped out the window, moving as quickly and quietly as she could in the direction the man went. She didn’t see him, but there was only one way he could have gone. Nearing the big house at the end, she had just gotten to the kicked-in door when she heard the distant crash, fearing she was too late.

She froze as she tried to think of what she should do. Should she run in and help? But what if the best thing she could do is wait, lest she get in his way? But maybe her extra bullets could be of help! But she may also just distract him?

She had no idea what to do, but she couldn’t just sit out here.

Just as she was about to run inside, she heard heavy footsteps begin to come towards the entrance. Leon was a big guy, but he wasn’t big enough to have those kinds of footfalls. Plus, he was stealthy, something she had picked up on along the way. That could mean only one thing.

Ella quickly ran to the side of the house, hiding behind it and waiting, hoping she was wrong. However, she knew she wasn’t when she saw the large man walk outside of the house, her heart dropping.

He was carrying two people; one man she didn’t recognize, and Leon. Ella had to look very closely, but she could see he was breathing, relief flowing through her.

But now she had no idea what to do to help him. If he couldn’t take the guy on, then she sure as hell couldn’t.

What did he want with Leon? He wasn’t killing him immediately, which meant he probably wasn’t going to kill him at all, unless he wanted to do a ritual like the one-

No, Ella wouldn’t let that happen if that was the case. She may have only known him for a couple of hours, but she would not sit by and let him die if there was anything she could do about it.

She had a gun now, and while it wasn’t much, it was far more than she had before.

For now, she had to put her stealth skills to use once more, and follow the man carrying Leon.

A/N: Again, let me know if you like it! If I don’t get a lot of notes on this I might not continue it, but who knows. I’ll probably post it elsewhere too. If you have any issues with it or think I should have put better warnings, please let me know! Also let me know if you think my portrayal of Leon should be different. Thanks for reading!

#Leon S. Kennedy #Leon Kennedy #Leon Resident Evil #Leon Kennedy x Reader #Leon x reader #Leon Kennedy fanfiction #Leon Kennedy x OFC #Resident Evil Fanfiction #Resident Evil 4 Remake

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