#who knew i was still even capable of that?

[mintyys-blog]

BABY | prisoner mark x pregnant! reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: smut, swearing, pregnancy

You always knew there was something dangerous about him. Not just in the way he looked at the world with disdain, but in the way he touched you—like the world could collapse and he wouldn’t flinch, so long as you were safe in his arms.

But ever since Mark broke out of that godforsaken Viltrumite prison, he’s been different.

Rougher.

Quieter.

More brutal.

Gone were the days he’d smile between stolen kisses. Now, he kissed you like it was the last thing he’d ever do—like the weight of blood on his hands could be forgiven by the way you moaned his name.

And you let him.

Even when he came back bloody.

Even when his eyes didn’t soften.

Even when he said nothing but, “Come here,” like it was a command and a prayer all in one.

Now, you sat in the bathroom of a dimly lit hideout, hand shaking as you held the positive test in your fingers.

Pregnant.

With his child.

With a fugitive Viltrumite’s child.

Your heart thudded in your chest. If the others found out—if the Viltrumites ruling Earth learned you were carrying Prisoner Mark’s baby—they wouldn’t hesitate. You’d be executed. Or worse—they’d take the baby from you and raise it to hate him. To destroy him.

You touched your stomach.

Small. Still safe. But for how long?

When Mark returned that night, you saw it in his eyes immediately—he could tell. His eyes flicked to your trembling hands, to the test you hadn’t had time to hide. Something like a snarl twisted his face as he crossed the room in two strides, taking the test from your hands and staring down at the word like it offended him.

“Is it mine?” he asked, low and dangerous.

You flinched. “Yes—of course it’s yours.”

He dropped the test, cradled your face in both of his bloodied hands. For a moment, you expected him to rage. To yell. To demand you fix this.

Instead, his voice broke.

“…I’m not letting them take you.”

“Mark—”

“I’ll kill them. Every last one. They touch you, they breathe near you—I’ll paint this entire planet red before I let them touch what’s mine.”

You tried to steady him, hands pressed to his chest. “We have to be smart, Mark. If they find out—”

“They won’t,” he snapped. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying hidden. With me. Always.”

You bit your lip, heart aching. “What kind of life is that for a baby?”

“The only kind they’ll get if I want them to live.” He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice dropping low and harsh. “You think I survived that prison just to lose you? To lose them? I will burn this entire world to the ground before I let that happen.”

You looked up at him—this broken, furious, possessive man who loved you with a fire sharp enough to slice through planets. You knew what he was capable of. You’d seen him tear through other Viltrumites just for threatening you.

Now, you were carrying his child.

And that made you his everything.

Even if it meant hiding. Even if it meant running. Even if it meant becoming a monster alongside him.

You nodded. “Okay, Mark. We’ll do it your way.”

And his arms closed around you like iron shackles and salvation all in one.

It happened slowly. At first, it was just little things— You’d flinch when Mark’s hand brushed your stomach. You’d turn the other way when you undressed. You stopped wearing the tighter shirts that used to make him stare.

You stopped letting him look. The hideouts changed often now, always moving, always cold. But it wasn’t the draft that made you wrap yourself in layers—it was the curve of your belly growing beneath your clothes, the softness in places that used to be taut, the way your body changed without asking.

Mark noticed. Of course he did. You used to crawl into his lap and kiss him just to feel his breath catch. Now, you curled up beside him and barely spoke. You avoided mirrors. You avoided him. And you hadn’t had sex in weeks.

You thought he’d snap. Yell. Demand answers like he always did when things felt out of his control. But he didn’t. Instead, he waited. Watched. And one night, when you were lying in bed with your back to him, he just asked—quiet and low like he was scared of the answer: “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer at first. You just rolled over and tucked yourself into his side, pressing your face into his bare chest, his scars cold and familiar against your skin. “…I feel so ugly,” you whispered.

He stilled beneath you. For a moment, he said nothing, and you swore your heart sank. But then his arm curled around you, firm and slow, holding you like you might break.

“You’re far from ugly,” he said, voice rough like gravel. “I mean, look at me. I’m full of scars. My nose has been broken five times. My back looks like a map of every fight I’ve ever lost. And you still love me.”

You blinked, eyes stinging. “But that’s different,” you murmured.

“How?” he pulled back enough to look at you. His hand brushed your cheek, soft despite the callouses. “Your body is carrying my kid. You’re doing the hardest thing anyone’s ever done—and you’re doing it while hiding from the most dangerous people in the galaxy. That’s not ugly, that’s… that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You looked away. “But I don’t feel beautiful.”

He didn’t push. He didn’t argue. He just kissed your forehead.

“I know. And that’s okay. But I’m not gonna stop loving you just because you’re changing. Hell, I love you more now.”

You blinked up at him. “Even if I keep getting bigger?”

“Even if you get the size of a damn moon,” he smirked, then kissed your nose. “I’ll still think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You finally smiled. Just a little. Just enough. And for the first time in weeks, you let his hand rest on your belly without pulling away.

It started small.

That night, you let his hand rest on your stomach. Just rest. No pressure, no questions. He was so still—like he didn’t want to scare you off. Like touching you was a privilege he had to earn again.

You fell asleep in his arms that way.

And over the next few days, you let him in again—inch by inch. You let him rub your back when you were sore. You let him kiss your shoulders when you changed. You let him talk to the baby when he thought you were asleep—soft, gruff whispers pressed to your skin:

“I hope you’ve got your mom’s eyes.”

“I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Both of you.”

“She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met. You’re lucky she’s yours.”

You pretended not to hear it. But your heart swelled every time. And one night, something shifted.

You were lying on your back in one of the new hideouts, dim lights flickering overhead, a storm cracking against the walls outside. Mark had just cleaned himself up after a skirmish—bruised, shirtless, but calm for once. For you.

He climbed into bed next to you like he always did, careful and slow.

But this time, you didn’t just snuggle into his chest.

You kissed him. Soft. Lingering. Lips parted. His breath hitched against your mouth. “Y/N…”

You swallowed your nerves. “I miss you. Touching you. Wanting you.” Your voice faltered. “But I’m scared you won’t want me anymore. I’m not the same. I’m not—tight, or small, or—”

He cut you off with a kiss that said shut up, I’m in love with you.

His hand slid under your shirt, calloused palm warm and reverent over the curve of your belly. “You’re still mine,” he growled against your lips. “And I’ve never wanted you more.”

You whimpered as he kissed down your jaw, to your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses—gentle at first, then rougher when your fingers threaded into his hair and tugged.

His voice was low. Hungry. “Tell me if you want to stop. I’ll stop.”

“I don’t,” you breathed. “I want you. I need you, Mark.” And with that, the dam broke.

His hands roamed everywhere—slow and loving, like he was relearning your body, worshipping each new curve with reverence. No rush. No expectation. Just Mark, memorizing you with every touch.

He kissed your swollen stomach, murmuring soft praises against your skin. He kissed the insides of your thighs, making you shiver. He kissed the underside of your breasts, tongue flicking gently, eyes dark with want and something softer—something tender.

“You’re glowing,” he whispered, voice rough with awe. “You’re full of me, and I fucking love it.”

His hands slid up your sides, fingers spreading wide over your ribs, your waist—pausing at every place you once tried to hide from him. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t hesitate. Just breathed you in, like you were something holy.

You whimpered beneath him, heart aching from how gentle he was. From how much he wanted you still.

When he finally lined himself up and pressed inside, you gasped—his length filling you slow and deep, stretching you just right. He grunted low in his throat, eyes fluttering shut as he sank into your heat.

“F-fuck,” he breathed. “You feel so good. Still so tight…”

Your arms wrapped around him, your lips brushing against his jaw as he bottomed out. The pace he set was slow, deep—thrusts that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. His hands found your belly again, one sliding underneath to cup it protectively, the other bracing against the mattress beside your head.

Like he was shielding you. Worshipping you.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath. “Taking me so well… even now. With my baby inside you.”

Your hips lifted to meet him, your body aching with every roll of his. You felt seen—held, loved, even in all your discomfort. The insecurities that haunted you the past few weeks melted under his touch, washed away by the soft kisses he pressed to your temple, your lips, your jaw.

“You’re not just beautiful,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “You’re everything.”

Tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t know why—just that his words broke something open in you. A dam. A silence.

“I missed this,” you choked, your voice cracking. “I missed you.”

His movements stuttered for just a second, then he leaned down and kissed you again—slow, deep, like you were the only air he’d ever breathe.

“I never left,” he said against your lips. “I’ll never leave. I’m yours.”

And then— You shattered. Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, building slow and cresting with a sob. Your fingers dug into his back as your body trembled beneath him, clenching around him in pulsing waves.

“Mark—!” you gasped, body arching.

He followed seconds later, thrusts becoming sloppy, breath ragged. He buried his face in your neck as he came inside you with a deep groan, spilling into you, his grip around your waist tightening protectively.

“Mine,” he whispered again, hoarse and broken. “You’re mine… both of you…”

He didn’t pull out right away. Just held you there, chest pressed to yours, his breathing slowly syncing with yours. His hands never left your body.

And when you finally calmed, exhausted and sore and safe, he kissed your forehead again.

“I love you,” he murmured. “More than anything. You and this baby… you’re my whole fucking world now.”

And you believed him.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there in the dark, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets and the scent of him. But for once, the silence wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t running, hiding, waiting for the next fight.

It was peace. Stolen peace. And Mark held you like he never wanted to give it back.

His hand ran up and down your spine, slow and soothing. His other arm was tucked protectively around your belly, his thumb absently stroking over the bump like it calmed him, not just you.

You were both quiet. Your breath evened out first.

Then his voice, low and gruff, broke the stillness.

“You okay?”

You nodded against his chest. “Yeah… just sore. And full.” He chuckled softly, chest rumbling under your cheek. “I’ll take responsibility for that.”

You snorted. “You better.”

He shifted slowly, carefully, like he was still afraid of hurting you. He reached for a cloth, dampened it from the small water basin near the bed, and gently began cleaning you up—soft strokes between your legs, quiet apologies when you winced.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His voice was steady. “You take care of me. Let me do this.”

You bit your lip and let him.

Afterward, he pulled the blanket back over both of you and kissed your forehead. His palm returned to your belly, warm and grounded. You swore his heartbeat slowed the moment he touched it.

“Do you think they can hear you?” you asked, voice soft.

“The baby?” He smiled, brushing a stray hair from your face. “Probably. That’s why I talk to them. Tell them what kind of world they’re coming into.”

Your heart tightened. “Is it a good world, Mark?”

He was quiet for a long time.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “But I’m gonna make sure our world is. Just us. Somewhere they’re safe. Somewhere you’re safe.”

You nodded, even though doubt still curled in your chest. “We can’t keep running forever.”

“I know.”

You studied him then—his jaw tense, his brows drawn, the faintest glow of Viltrumite rage simmering beneath his calm.

“If they find us…” you whispered.

“They won’t.” He leaned down, pressed a kiss to your stomach. “And if they do, I’ll tear the sky apart before I let them near you.”

Your hand slid into his hair, fingers combing through the strands. “You’re gonna be a good dad, Mark.”

He looked stunned for a second, like the words hit somewhere deep he didn’t want you to see. Then his arms wrapped tighter around you and he buried his face against your belly, breathing in like your scent was his only lifeline.

“I’m gonna try,” he murmured. “For you. For them. For everything we’ve lost.”

And you held him just as tightly, both of you afraid to speak the truth out loud— That this quiet, stolen happiness wouldn’t last forever. That the war was still out there. That the Viltrumites were coming. But tonight, it was just him. Just you. And the life you made together

[tangentiallly]

the way he thinks about how he wants to know the truth here - i can FEEL so much of how he really, really wants to tell her, about the truth about himself, about why he's doing this. gaoshun is thinking about maomao's usefulness on their side and jinshi probably partially considered that as well (yes he's down bad but he's also, in many ways, a very logical, rational guy who analyzes things - maomao will also acknowledge this point about him multiple times later on). but aside from that, he just - wants her to know the real him. to know why he's doing this. wants her to understand ...... and his voice here just really gets to me. he so so so wants her to see the true side of him.

and, at this point maomao's very much "i don't want to know therefore i will NOT know" "i don't want to get into trouble by knowing anything that someone of my position shouldn't know". which is understandable - but also, it's interesting to note that, when she first knew him, she saw through his fakeness immediately, and when she saw his mask slipped she liked that side of him better.

as the series progressed she no longer was in the "i don't want to know anything" mindset. in LN9 we saw her reaction to Jinshi telling about about why he arranged his selection of personnel to go to the West that way.

even though her first thought was how she wished jinshi would treat her the same way he treated the quack, of not sharing anything unpleasant and just making the decisions without informing her, she immediately rejected the idea in her mind. she went on to think that he thought it would be best, and she herself also felt that this made her position easier, knowing the logic behind the decisions and her options available to her. she thinks of him as quite capable.

i just .... love how jinshi want to be real with her, want to be honest with her, and how maomao went from "i don't want to know anything i'm not noticing anything" to appreciating (sort of) him telling her his motives and reasonings.

"it was much easier to accept the answers he arrived at, even if they weren't perfect, knowing he thought things through". i am overwhelmed by so many feelings i love them.

maomao's reaction to the personnel selection for travelling west, in a way reminds me of what happened earlier in the same book (LN9) / last part of previous book. the branding. in both cases, maomao understood (whether through his explanation or her own grasp of the situation) why he did what he did, even if she's not pleased about it. she's pretty mad on both accounts, actually. she's angry he hurt himself in the branding incident (and also thinks he's selfish in doing so when the gyokuyou's and lihua's sons are both still so young), and she's angry at the personnel selection, of how jinshi used her to rope lakan in because he wants lakan's opinion on the west's situation and also because the western capital requested lakan, and now that she has to travel with lakan amongst the group, having to put up with lakan's presence.

but despite her anger - she still thought she could understand why he did what he did. still considered his decision logical and well-thought - and even considerate to her in a way. in the branding case, because maomao has expressed her reluctance at becoming the empress's enemy. in the travelling west case, she understood that he also did it for her safety, for lakan has many enemies that might try to do something to maomao, if left in the capital. in both cases, she recognized that he evaluated the situation from multiple angles, combining different goals together, different things he wanted to achieve and take care of, and put together a plan that satisfied all that. in both cases she acknowledged to herself that he acted based on a lot of considerations and logic, and it's not impulsive. and that he has thought about her in both cases. she's still mad, but she understood. jinmao my beloved .......

[fckmebarnes]

˗ˏˋ ★ birds of a feather ★ ˎˊ˗

tfatws!bucky barnes x neighbor!reader

no real notes, just comfort. you and bucky are one of the same — plagued with bad dreams.

hi friends <3 here is a very very old work of mine! i hope u guys like this little fluff/comforting thing. kinda obsessed with them being wall buddies too. feedback is welcomed 💓

it started off small. shallow breaths were heard throughout his apartment, tossing and turning in his sheets, soaked with sweat and tears. pillows would be strewn around the floor in small piles, the only thing his body wrapped in was a thin, cotton white sheet.

but even then it didn’t stay on his bed.

then it got worse.

you could hear cries through your wall, wails that went straight to your heart and made you panic. “he’s fine.” neighbors would say as you worriedly asked them in the middle of the night and the door shut on your face.

those screams and cries were only made by someone who was hurt. by someone who couldn’t bare to be asleep in the dead of night because their mind was plagued with past events that never had an out.

you knew this because you had the same issue. sometimes there were nights where sleep was a distant friend, someone you hadn’t spoke with for a while and someone you hadn’t say hello to. it was just a mere thought at this point. something your brain couldn’t wrap itself around.

bucky was no stranger to insomnia. he knew the routine. the way his eyes darted back and forth under his closed eyelids, his chest heaving as his mind always went back to the dark and dirty hallway on his way to have his memory wiped for the umptheeth time.

his mind had him trapped in his memories, desperately looking for a key so he could unlock the door and leave but he never was able to find one. he was subjected to relieve each nightmare if he wanted to sleep.

but was it really sleep at that point if his mind was torturing him? was it really a good night’s rest if he woke up sweating, tears rolling down his cheeks that he didn’t even remember crying?

he never fully felt well rested. even when he was awake, he was left reliving the nightmares he just endured, thinking back to the dimly lit cell he was subjected to. the thin mattress with a tan sheet full of dirty, sweat and blood. the room held his body hostage while Hydra held his mind hostage. he felt fully trapped.

there were times in his dreams where he would get a glimpse of what his life would’ve looked like if he dind’t loose it for 70 years to being brainwashed.

he had always dreamt of his ma, dressed in his pale blue dress, her hair in those curlers he never understood. her smile would always make him feel warm in the corners of his mind. but it never lasted long. somehow it would always twist into something dark. he’d be sitting at the dining room table, laughing and smiling with is ma, and one look the other way she was getting hit over the head with something, a bag over her head and being hauled away. the cheery scene went from bright to happy to dull and miserable in a second. he knew he would never be lucky.

so when he met you, he had a hard time differentiating whether it was real or his mind playing tricks on him again. the smile you gave him was similar to the one his ma would give him in his dreams. it would make his chest warm, his palms sweaty and his tongue catch itself when he wanted to say something to you. but he could never work up the courage to even say hello to you.

he didn’t know what was happening, as he had never felt this way about someone.

he wasn’t sure that he was actually capable of feeling something other than sorrow and guilt. even with the copious amounts of therapy and talking through it, the guilt still ate away at him, chipping his soul each and every time he thought of someone he had to kill.

he laid on the couch, not opting for his bed. it was too soft for him, something he still wasn’t used to. he had a single flat pillow underneath his head with his sheets across his body and the tv playing some sports game he wasn’t really paying attention to. he was nervous, scared of falling asleep. he didn’t know what his mind would torture him with tonight, but he was exhausted. he had been up for the past two days solely living on espresso and energy drinks.

something had to change.

he closed his eyes and the instant he did, his brain and mind shut off.

there was no sound, eerily quiet as he treaded down the empty halls of the old hydra base. he could recall this memory so clearly. there had been a few left over traces of the program he was subjected to and while steve had urged him to sit this one out, he couldn’t. he needed to be the one to put this to an end.

the walls surrounding him were dingy, mold growing from the tops of the wall, through the many, many cracks. it smelled damp, smelled like iron. it was a smell only he could recall.

his boots were heavy on his feet, but the sound his footsteps made weren’t heard. his hand gripped the gun in his hand as he looked around a corner, back against the wall and clearing a section before moving forward.

that’s when he heard it.

that’s when he heard you.

you? no, that couldn’t possibly be right. he didn’t know you then, you weren’t there.

the sound of your cries bounced off the empty grim walls, shooting right through him that made him freeze in his spot mid step. he couldn’t keep going, not when your cries sounded like his as he got his mind wiped again. he didn’t want to see you strapped to the chair that he practically lived in when he wasn’t out on the streets putting bullets through innocent people. he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

“bucky!” his breathing hitched in his throat as he heard you yell out his name, only something his warped mind could create. it wasn’t familiar, it wasn’t something he knew. his heart rate picked up, sweat falling down the sides of his brow. he shook his head, placing his foot down and started in the direction of you.

this was the mission.

as he rounded the corner, there you sat in that dammed chair he would be strapped to. three men surrounded you, two of them holding your arms down while the other shoved the mouth guard into your mouth. tears ran down your face as the two of you had made eye contact, a muffled wail leaving your body. it twisted his heart as he watched the scene unfold, watching you memories be wiped from your brain just as it had been done to him.

he blinked hard, trying to rid of the tears that were in his eyes. he opened them again, to find the chair empty, and the three men looking in his direction, devilish grins sat upon each of their faces.

“well, if it isn’t the winter soldier himself. it seems you have crawled right back to us. men, get him.”

the second they started towards him, his body jolted up right, sheets thrown on the floor on a pile along with his pillow. his dog tags stuck to his sweaty chest. his metal arm propping him up on the couch. he looked over at the clock on his wall.

2:38 am.

with a sigh, he began to lay back down before he heard the front door, a soft knock against the wood. he grumbled, standing up and tossing on the shirt he must’ve taken off in his nightmare induced state. his dog tags clinked softly as he walked towards his door, opening it up to see you standing there with a blanket around your shoulders and a panicked look through your face.

“are you okay?” he was taken aback at the question, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched your eyes dart over his face to find something, anything you could. “i heard you next door. we are wall buddy’s i- im sorry if this is weird.” you began to walk away before he struck his and out and grabbed your wrist lightly, not wanting you to leave.

“come inside, please.” his voice was soft, but you could hear the pain in his tone. you nodded, gravitating towards him as he moved out of the way and let you in. you noticed the pillow and sheet on the floor, the tv turned to a random channel and a lone cup of cold tea on the coffee table.

“are you okay?” you asked again as you turned to him, his hands awkwardly at his side before he went to sit down on the couch. his brows furrowed to a tight knit, a deep dimple inbetween his eyebrows made you want to reach out and sooth it with your thumb.

“what are you doing up so late? did i wake you?” you shook your head, playing with a piece of your blanket.

“no i, i was already awake. i don’t sleep well most nights.” you mumbled softly, and saw him nod in the corner of your eye. finally, someone understood, he thought.

the next few weeks ended up with you always coming to his apartment at 2 am, falling asleep next to each other in his bed that you somehow convinced him to sleep in when you were with him. other times, though he slept on the couch or on the hard floor in his living room. he didn’t want to ruin the feelings he had when he slept in his bed.

you two had ended up making chamomile tea before bed anytime you came over, a splash of oatmilk and sitting out on his balcony and talking about anything and everything. he never hid his past from you, didn’t hide his metal arm from you and was always upfront and honest with him. you appreciated it, and you could tell it was therapeutic for him and helped him sleep a little better.

there was one particular night where you showed up a little earlier than agreed upon, and the second he opened the door and saw your eyes red and strained, dry tear streaks down your cheeks he knew it was important. he ushered you in and his arms wrapped around your blanket covered shoulders, your face smushed against his chest as you let out shaky breaths trying to control your emotions from crying again.

his flesh hand ran through your hair while his metal hand held your lower back, pressing you closer to him as he spoke softly trying to calm the panic attack that wanted to ride through your body.

“shh.. it’s okay, doll. you’re okay.” he had learned through the late night talks on the balcony that you had nightmares of your parents. they started out nice, calm and okay. but usually ended up with your parents yelling at you, throwing things at you and you were crying so hard in your dream that it woke you up to crying in real life. it was so hard to have a good day after that.

this one wasn’t any different.

your arms wrapped around bucky’s waist, your blanket falling to the cold hardwood floor. his heart ached at the sight knowing how much you cared for the comfort of your blankets but he felt how much you needed his comfort in this moment. he leaned over and scooped you up in his arms, his flesh arm underneath the crook of your legs and his metal arm underneath your back, your arms hooked around his neck, your face never leaving the crook of his skin, eyes closed as he carried you into his room and set you gently down on the bed.

usually it was you holding him in your arms, his head against your chest and your fingers through his hair to calm the thunderstorm behind his brain. but this time, he wanted to be that for you.

“can we try something different tonight, doll?” you look up at him, your face flushed from your body temperature rising from trying to fight back the tears. you bit your lip and nodded, watching as he smiled softly and crawled into bed behind you and wrapped his arms securely around your middle.

“is this okay?” his voice was slow and timid, almost afraid to speak any louder as you would burst into tears. but you felt the second he wrapped his arms around your middle and his hands slid under your shirt and pressed flatly against your skin, your body instantly relaxed against him. he didn’t need a verbal answer, he heard your heartbeat slow as his thumb rubbed your skin gently.

the warmth that enveloped you from bucky made you tired, you placed your hands under the pillow, feeling his nose nudge the nape of your neck affectionately, a soft kiss against your skin as a gesture to you that it was okay to fall asleep. that he’d be here when you woke up. he didn’t know what came over him all of a sudden, but feeling himself complete given himself up to you over the last few weeks made him want you to do the same, to show you that he was a safe person to come to. that’s all he ever wanted: was for you to feel safe around him.

and you did, you couldn’t explain how it felt seeing his steel blue eyes answer the door at two in the morning, the way his arms tangled themselves around your legs as his head was in your lap and your hands through his hair, carding your fingers through the locks soothingly as he closed his eyes.

you couldn’t explain how it made you feel when you said something funny and watched as his eyes crinkle with delight, the laugh coming from his lips sounding hoarse as if he hadn’t had a proper laugh in years and that this was his first time finding humor in something.

you ignited something in his soul, deep within his chest that he was subconsciously searching for. he wanted to know what it was like to live again, to see the sun and not hide away behind the darkened curtains of his apartment, to venture outside and not make eye contact with anyone in fear that they’d look at him wrong. he was finally able to leave his apartment and run into someone, gesturing slowly to apologize and not feel awkward, not stumble off and have a panic attack because of “what if they called the police on me?”

and the nights he slept next to you, were something to remember. he was finally able to wake up the next day and not feel groggy, he didn’t feel the need to take midday naps, and he was finally able to see the dark circles disappear each morning he woke up.

you were the light that ignited his soul. you had been the one he was yearning for all this time, and he was finally able to allow himself to just feel.

the way you bit your lip when you were anxious talking about something didn’t go unnoticed to him. how you fidgeted with your fingers in your lap and looked down, a stray piece of hair falling in front of his face that made him reach out and tug it back behind your ear as you leaned into his touch.

the way you looked at him and hung onto his ever word as he told you about his past, or how he was annoyed that everything was more expensive than it was back in the 40’s. you would laugh as he grumbled, making him secretly smile away from you.

you remembered each detail he’d tell you about his ma; how she made the best apple pie with the most perfect crust and a side of vanilla ice cream. how she would fix his suit every single time before he went out to work, and how she’d how pou lucks every sunday. you knew she was popular in the neighborhood, that everyone talked about winniefred, how she had the kindest smile and sweetest voice that would make everyone including the grumpiest men on the street, smile.

you understood where he got the sweet talking from. he was good at convincing you to stay for another cup of tea, and just ‘10 more minutes’ in bed as the sun creeped through the blinds and spilled over the bed sheets.

you never missed the way his hair would stick to his forehead, he ran hot at night with or without a night mare, and his lips would be slightly parted and a little chapped from the light snores he’d make but for once you weren’t annoyed when someone snored. his metal arm would always be on your thigh, his hand splayed out on your skin, and the coolness making you cuddle under the blanket. you’d try to move but his hand would squeeze your thigh, and a soft whine coming from his lips. “not yet, baby.” and you’d listen, because how could you deny the sleepy man next to you.

you had never come to truly understand bucky as a whole, but that was okay. because you understood there were certain parts of him that even he didn’t understand but that didn’t mean the two of you didn’t try to figure out together.

after a hard nightmare, you’d hold him in your arms, your fingers running down his temple to his stubble covered cheek and back up again, watching his lips move and explain his nightmare. you watched his eyes dart back and forth as if he was looking at a timeline in front of him trying to piece it together but ending up frustrated because he just couldn’t remember. “all in due time, jamie. it’s okay. there’s no rush.” his body would relax at your words as you looked down at him adoringly, and for once in his life, he trusted those words.

after always on the run, constantly moving from location to location, he was finally given the time he needed to try and put himself back together. and he knew you’d be there handing him the pieces he found, and put them back right into place.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Finding Home

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Summary: Commissioned by @Lizybeth104-mommabatte. During a raid, Dabi get hit with a quirk that tears him out of the world he knows and into a new one. In this place, he is once again the odd man out as he discovered the world is made of half-animal hybrids and only a select few have ‘magic’ like his quirk that make them witches in this world. Thankfully there is a far stranger, but more helpful version of his boss here who is willing to give him guidance as Dabi is forced to confront the reality of what his life really means across worlds. 

Contents: Isekai AU, Fantasy AU, Naga!Shigaraki, Cannibalism, Dabi Angst, Violence, Size Kink, Breeding Kink, Feminization, Loss of Virginity, Grinding, Non-Human Genitalia, Monster Fucking, Double Penetration, Tail Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Biting, Blood Drinking, Bathing/Washing, Mating Bonds, Scent Kink, Belly Bulge.

Word Count: 31,314

Dabi really didn't think he was gonna be anywhere near the CRC raid, but when he shows up to the outpost that the rest of the League has been using after his initial talk with Hawks, he finds that the others are only just preparing to head out.

"I thought you guys were supposed to do this two days ago?" He had deliberately stayed away so that he wouldn't end up getting involved, not wanting to put the stress on his seams when he was already struggling to adapt without medicine readily available. Now that they're cut off from AFO's resources, he has to be wiser about how he handles League business or he won't make it to his fight against his father. 

"Ah, we were going to," Compress says, "But as we were keeping an eye out, it appears that one of the main leaders was still recovering from a stomach bug and they postponed the meeting, so we were forced to follow suit." Well, he supposes that's a better excuse than the other members just being lazy and directionless. 

"But now that you're here," Shigaraki says, putting his mask over his face, "You can join us." 

Dabi doesn't want the others to start thinking of him as 'fragile' so he just shrugs, cracking his neck to one side. "Yeah, whatever, boss." He hopes that they won't need him much. They're going to steal whatever valuables that they can get. He's certain that they won't want him to destroy everything the way that he knows he can if he actually uses his quirk to the full extent that he knows he's capable of.

Regardless, he trails along behind the others, letting their excited chatter of conversation flow around him. He doesn't want to get too involved with their shit. Hell, even this job, to his knowledge, is Spinner's personal grudge getting satisfied. Not that he's using the League for anything else. He just doesn't want them to catch onto that fact before he's ready to use it as a weapon on his own. They walk on towards their target and he doesn't draw any attention to himself as they go. 

///

He knew that the CRC was not just going to let them walk in and steal from them, but he has to say that he wasn't expecting them to put up so much of a fight either. It's a good thing that they do. He has been in a lot of fights throughout his life, but he knows that a number of them haven't been. They don't know how to keep their wits about them on the field when there are dozens of enemies and quirks flying every which way, their only experience the summer camp job and their training in AFO-controlled environments. He knew that Toga got a better taste of it when she snuck into the Hero Licensing exam, but she's still young. And he knows that the most field experience that Spinner has had period was the Summer Camp job. Driving the getaway car, poorly, during the Overhaul thing does not count. So he is trying to keep an eye out for them as much as he is for himself. The League is already so small now that he's worried that it won't have been worth the anonymity that he'd lost by throwing in his lot with them for the resources they no longer have. He needs allies to clear the path to his father and make it so that the hero world is so fragile that his very existence will shatter it into pieces. 

He's not actively protecting any of the others, he's just trying to control the battlefield so that they have a chance to learn from this experience as he does so. He is focused on his job and making sure that nothing comes near him. And then he catches a stray. He doesn't know who dodged out of the way, not aware of their surroundings and sending it towards the rest of the group because they just don't know how to watch their backs well. 

The stone spike that tears through his side puts a hard enough pressure along that seam that he feels the staples tear out of it higher along his side than he thinks that it should. Dabi is used to pain, and even as he stumbles slightly as his mind starts to shift, moving to try and work out how the fuck he is going to get medical attention after the monster maker cut them off post Compress getting his arm torn off, he keeps his wits about him. He knows to make sure the others are clear before he sends off a gout of flame so hot and so intense that it turns everyone on that side of the room to ash before they can even scream. The explosion of heat in the air has nearly everyone else in the building screaming, even his own people are reeling back in horror as they see for themselves just how much he's been trying to hold back so they never fully knew the amount of power he's been sitting on and waiting to let erupt. But he is going to need medical attention as soon as he can get it if he doesn't want to have to cauterize this wound himself and hope that's enough, so he is done playing around and letting the others use this as a training exercise. 

"Dabi--" It's Shigaraki's voice, him who notices first how badly hurt he is because he's the only one so far that he's actually seen growing into his role of a villain. He knows the value of keeping his pieces together and making sure he doesn't lose any of his party members when they are already strapped for resources. He can't do anything to help him though, and he hears Duster bark out, "Twice! Mustard!" 

He knows that Twos has all of their measurements and Dabi takes a deep breath and holds it in his lungs as the other man makes their arrested ally. It's no surprise that the double sees the combat and covers his own nose and mouth before pumping out the toxic gas that will help clear this room even faster. 

Dabi starts to feel light-headed far before his lungs start to burn from the lack of air, and his side is soaked with his blood. Compress is the one who swoops in immediately, getting an arm under his own and trying to lead him towards the doors. The others let the gas do its work as they try to clear the area too, everyone making their way outside so that they can breathe and block the doors. Twice doubles Shigaraki and they head around to the back entrance so that none of the CRC members can escape and tell anyone what they've been up to as the warm afternoon sun hits Dabi's skin as they get out into the fresh air. 

"Dabi--" Shigaraki's voice as he circles around him, reaching for his coat and shirt. He thinks the other is going to pull the fabric aside, but he doesn't get the chance. Those deadly hands that he's never seen slip before reach, but before they can grasp, Dabi's back is arching as he feels something else impact him at the center of his spine. He has been hit by other quirks before, and this one doesn't cause an immediate, searing pain, so he knows that it's bad. If a quirk doesn't hurt on impact, then that means it does something worse and he pushes himself away from Mister, away from Shigaraki, as he fears that it will do something to anyone near him as he feels his whole body start to go numb and tingly at the same time, like he's cut off the circulation to every inch of his body. He can feel the sensation in his teeth, in his eyeballs, and there is no escaping it. There's a furious resentment that goes through him as he feels like his consciousness is slipping away, his limbs too heavy to support himself anymore and sending him crashing to the ground. He was supposed to use the League to reach his goals, not be just another pawn that got sacrificed so that Shigaraki could hold onto his delusions of being king. He was supposed to burn it all down. He was supposed to make sure that Endeavor knew what he created that night on the mountain. 

He lets out a furious roar, his flames erupting along his skin, unable to be contained by his good sense as he feels the same helplessness that he was surrounded by as a child come crashing in on him again as the whole world goes weightless. 

He hits the ground for a second time, the air cooler, the sun set, and the smell of a forest in his nose for a split second before he's incinerating everything around him before darkness can rush up over his eyes. 

///

He's in pain, dizzy, and confused when he feels hands on his body, pushing up his shirt that has gone tacky with his blood, the motion hurting badly enough to stir him from unconsciousness as the fabric tears away the barely formed scabs. He manages to squint his eyes open, but there is no bright sunlight to burn them as he manages it. Just moonlight and embers. His mind feels foggy, but he knows it was day before. He is even more confused when his vision clears enough for him to make out the appearance of the person leaning over him who is certainly not a doctor. 

Shigaraki's hair has been growing out lately, but it is definitely not down to his waist and absolutely not such a pure white that it would be glowing in the moonlight like it is right now. He knows that his eyes are red, but he doesn't remember his pupils being black slits through them, doesn't remember that his teeth were fangs behind his lips, doesn't remember him having a forked tongue that flicks out from between them like a demon. 

"Shigaraki?" Is he seeing the world wrong? Some sort of hallucinogenic quirk? He doesn't know. He just knows that when he says the other man's name, his eyes go from his wounded side to his own and that the word feels like it takes out the last of the energy that he had in his body.

"How do you know me?" His voice sounds the same, but Dabi doesn't understand the words. 

He feels his whole body is heavy and floaty at the same time. The way he remembers it being the last time he got so sick that he had to seek out medical attention, and he knows that if he doesn't get it soon, he's not going to make it long. "Fuck, if you let me die, I'm going to come back and burn down everything you've ever touched." He manages to croak. He could demand that he take him to the doctor, but he just doesn't have the energy for it, his body starting to slump into the soil even more. He can't keep his eyes open even when he hears a loud, unfamiliar sound of something heavy being dragged across the earth. He just knows that there is movement near him and can only hope Shigaraki didn't leave them open to some other attack. 

"What a curious creature." He hears Shigaraki murmur before there are hands on his body. They're so cold that he shivers and doesn't have the wherewithal to think about how that might be strange as he is lifted from the ground and pulled into a solid, muscular chest before his consciousness is slipping away again. 

///

When he wakes next, it is with a throb in his side and a musty smell of cold clogging his nose. Dabi groans slightly, opening his eyes and finding himself still in the dark somewhere. He doesn't know where he is, has no idea if the League was able to get him to a hospital or not, but he knows that this isn't the worst pain that he's ever been in, so he thinks that he stands a fair chance of surviving this the same way he has survived everything else. Dabi forces himself to sit up a bit, letting what feels like a tattered blanket slip away from his body. He has to light up one of his hands to have anything at all to see by and as he does, his dread sets in as he sees that the others... did not bring him to the doctor. He knows that things have been strained with him, but he thought that they would still make an effort for him. He didn't expect them to instead bring him to a... cave. A cave, he realizes as he takes in the curved stone that makes up the walls and ceiling, a hard-packed dirt floor beneath him, a threadbare blanket put across his skin, and a poultice of what he really hopes are medicinal herbs packed over the wound and the places where his staples separated from his skin. Those fucking bastards. Hurt because of them in the first place and then they don't even really bother to take care of him. If he survives this, he's burning them alive.

Dabi means to try and scrape away some of this mess, even more annoyed to realize that he doesn't see his coat or shirt anywhere around him. He's sure the shirt is soaked with blood and completely unsalvageable, but if he's going to leave here, he would have liked to have his coat. That, at least, would have let him cover up the worst of the damage to his side, and hopefully not make him look like an easy target for anyone that he might come across. But as he tries to get his legs under himself to push up from the ground and try to find his way to medical help on his own, he hears the sound of something large moving across the dirt. Dabi keeps his hands lit up, ready to send a gout of flame in the direction of whatever is approaching him and turn it to ash completely. 

He's not expecting Shigaraki to emerge from the dark, looking... differently, but the way he remembers him from before he slipped under. He sees the long, wild white hair, the bright red eyes with the strange pupils, the thick muscle and knotted scars corded along his entire torso and making him look like he might have taken more hits than Dabi has seen evidence for in their time of rolling together. He absolutely was not this ripped, his hair not that long when he passed out before, and a cold dread spreads through his gut as he wonders just how long he's been asleep. 

And then he has an entirely different, entirely primal fear when Shigaraki keeps moving closer to him. The movement is accompanied by that same heavy sound of something, his body just seeming to stretch towards him out of the darkness and making him bring a wider arch of flame through the air as he doesn't hear any footsteps, as his mind reels as he sees Shigaraki's body far higher than it should be as it moves. He casts more of the flickering blue light of his flames all around the cavern and a scream gets caught in his throat as an icy fear saturates his veins as he sees the other man approaching.

"You're finally awake." Shigaraki's voice sounds the same as he pauses his approach, looking at his hands like he's the one who needs to be weary as Dabi sees that his torso is not attached to legs the way it has always been before, but instead transitions from pale, scarred skin to serpentine scales of black that glitter in his firelight. The tail that makes up the lower half of his body and stretches out behind him to a place that he cannot find the end of in the dark, is thicker than Dabi's entire body, and moves so fluidly that, although he has never been afraid of snakes before, the unnaturalness of the sight has his entire body going all the hotter with his distress. 

"What the fuck happened to you?" He knew that Shigaraki was getting experimented on by AFO and Ujiko, of course he was when Dabi knows that Ujiko is the one responsible for that entire hospital full of spares that took him in while he was in his coma. But he didn't know that the mad doctor would have any real interest in turning Shigaraki into a heteromorph. 

Shigaraki's head tilts to the side slightly, his tongue flicking out, long and forked, like any other serpent's and making Dabi shudder from the wrongness of the action. "You speak to me like we've met before, witch. You knew my name before we'd ever spoken." Shigaraki has always had a sort of awkwardness to the way he talks, too much playing a megalomaniacal villain and too much other nerd shit throughout his life, Dabi guesses. But he doesn't normally sound so stilted and formal. He calls them his party members, but Dabi is what Duster likes to call their 'glass cannon', not a 'witch'. 

"Did turning into a heteromorphic nomu turn your brain into mush? Of course I know you, you've been my worthless boss for months. Even more worthless if I get an infection and die because you put me on the ground and packed leaves into my wound. Where the fuck are we? Where are the others?" He asks, his hands starting to sting from having to hold his flames to see by. But he can't think of anything more frightening than to let the dark swallow him up and lose sight of the other man who is not what he is used to. 

Shigaraki's head tilts again, his tongue flicking out. "You're frightened... and hurting." His body lowers from the height that he was stretched to before, moving closer and making Dabi all the more skittish over what he might do to him. But he stoops down and pauses about half a meter from his burning hands. "Let me check your poultice. I promise that no harm will come to you from my hands, witch." 

"Stop calling me that, Duster!" He snaps, not letting his quirk waver. "You know my name, fucking use it, dick." 

There's a pause, a strange look that crosses the other man's face as he raises his hands placatingly towards them. "I think that you may be confused-- whether it be from your magic or your injuries, I'm not certain, but all I can say is that I am unfamiliar with you." His voice is softer than Dabi has ever heard it before. Gentle in a way that has his skin bristling further, like he's the wild animal that needs to be soothed lest he lash out. "I will provide the care I can, but I do not know you." He says again. "You know it already, but my name is Tomura Shigaraki. Perhaps you could do me the kindness of introducing yourself to me?"

Dabi stares, willing this all to be wrong, for this not to be real, but when Shigaraki lowers himself further reaching into a shadowy corner that he couldn't see into before and he picks up Dabi's coat with all five fingers, he is filled with a cold dread that tells him so clearly that this is not the world that he existed in before. 

///

Shigaraki, when he smells his flesh burning, insists on taking him closer to the mouth of the cave. He tells him that he brought him so deep inside so that no one would be able to smell his injuries while he was hunting, and that he can bring him closer to the fresh air so that he can light a proper fire to see by when he picks up on how scared Dabi is of being left in the dark with this unfamiliar man who is wearing his boss's face. Dabi tries to walk there himself, but he's so weak that he collapses almost immediately, Shigaraki catching him from falling with one of the thick coils of his tail, the scales chilly and smooth under his hands as he does so. Dabi can't help bristling when Duster-- not 'Duster', not anymore-- shifts his body so that he is sitting side-saddle on his back, his hands bringing Dabi's coat around his shoulders when he shivers, before he starts to move beneath him, taking him to the mouth of the cave. 

It is still night outside and Dabi's stomach sinks further just from seeing how many stars light up the sky. He never paid any attention to astrological signs or astrology, but just looking up, he can see that they aren't near any city. That the sky is so free of light pollution that, as far as the eye can see, there are stars. He can't think it's beautiful as he takes in the thick conifer forest around him and the entrance to the cave that he was brought into. Shigaraki moves easily over the dirt and twigs, pushing them aside so that he can find an old log and roll that onto its side so that Dabi can sit there instead of on his back. He an only just make out that his tail has to be long at least three of him from head to toe if he were going to lay down beside him as Shigaraki moves around the area, gathering fallen branches and stones, bringing them together into a small fire pit that Dabi is able to light and give himself more light to see by. He still feels his skin bristling with anticipation, but once Shigaraki has done that, he settles on the other side of the fire, his tail coiling up beneath him and his torso resting on top of it, those bright, foreign eyes watching him as it happens. He doesn't know what he wants him to say, but after a long moment, Dabi knows that he has to speak. He needs to make sense of wherever it is he is now. 

"Do you have quirks?" 

Shigaraki's head tilts, his tongue flicking out again. "Oddities of my personality? I suppose some would find the fact I was willing to associate with a witch strange." 

"No-- your hands, when you touch things with all five of your fingers, do you turn whatever you're touching into dust?" He suspects he already knows the answer to that question, but he can't help asking it again anyway. He doesn't want to be right. He wants to be wrong, wants this to be some elaborate prank that the others are pulling on him or some psychological experiment that Ujiko is running because he just can. But he knows it's not when Shigaraki answers so earnestly, 

"I can't perform any feats of magic." He asks a question of his own while Dabi is still reeling from that flat admittance. "You don't have a secondary species?" 

"A what?" 

"You aren't an animal as well as a man?" He asks with a little bit more of a gently prompting tone. 

"No. Only heteromorphs have-- is... magic rare? Are people without being animals not normal here?" He hates that these are the questions that he's being forced to ask, but he needs to understand this place, needs to know what is happening to him, around him. 

"Magic is very rare, I've only ever met one other witch in all of my life." Shigaraki tells him, sounding like that is as fascinating to him as Dabi wonders if the rest of this should be to him. "He could do many things with his abilities, shaping the world around him to his whims, until a warrior came to slay him." There's a melancholy laid plain on Shigaraki's face that Dabi isn't expecting, that he doesn't want to see because his Shigaraki has never been so blatant with his emotions like this in front of him. Not any that weren't anger or manic joy at least." He took me in when my family disowned me when my species became known." 

"All For One?" He asks hesitantly, Shigaraki's eyes snapping back to his immediately. 

"So you have the gift of sight as well as the elements?" 

"No." Dabi says, his voice a hoarse croak. "I'm not from here. I don't know what this is, but this isn't where I belong." 

Shigaraki seems to settle in further as he prompts, "Where are you from, little one?" 

Dabi has never been a chatty guy when it comes to the League, but there's no stopping the words now as they come spilling out from behind his lips. 

///

He talks for a while. Until his throat is dry and he feels exhausted, and the serpent version of his boss that does not know him, goes to a basin of stone that he has carved, and brings him a whittled ladle of the rain water collected there. Dabi is hesitant to drink it, worried about inviting sickness into his already vulnerable body, but he has no choice if he doesn't want to perish from thirst. Everything feels wrong around him, but Shigaraki takes in what he tells him about his world in easy stride. He assures him that he will be allowed to stay here until he's healed-- for as long as he wants really, and the earnest way that the other man looks at him tells Dabi... that he wants that companionship. That he's been alone for a long time and that he wants to not be alone any longer. He tells Dabi that he had been hunting a lovely rabbit, but as he lost sight of it in the thicket of the forest, he had started to smell smoke. And then an intense wave of blue fire lashed out and turned so much of the surrounding area to ash. He had moved closer when the fires had died down and found him collapsed and bleeding at the center of the crater. His curiosity about Dabi is what caused him to treat his wounds and make sure that he was safe in his den for the time being. But Shigaraki also tells him that witches are rare, that he has only met one in all of his life before Dabi, and that if they do exist anywhere, it would be in the larger cities, not out in the wildlands where they are now. 

Dabi is still hurt, that much is clear when Shigaraki pulls the medicinal herbs from his skin, but he is not nearly as hurt as he should be given what he remembers before he passed out. But his skin is not gouged as deeply as it looked before, and there is a comfort in the very fact that he isn't seeing any swelling or signs of infection along the wound. Maybe in this world, the plants are more magical than the pharmaceuticals that he's used to. He doesn't care as long as it means that he's not about to keel over at any second from how much damage his skin has taken. Shigaraki assesses the wound and tells him he'll likely need to keep it on his body for another week before he decides to travel, and he goes to procure more of the herbs from his stash, returning within half an hour and soaking them in the rainwater for a few minutes before he starts to apply them in careful layers along his side. 

"I wasn't certain if... the rest of it was something fresh or not." He says gently, carefully, as if this version of Shigaraki does not want to offend him when they had tried to kill each other practically on first sight in Dabi's world. But the comment doesn't offend him, it just puts a further pit in his gut as he's given a firm reminder that even in a completely new world, he won't ever be something that isn't strange and unpleasant to look at. "So I just treated any places that were bleeding. If you need more--" 

"Happened eight years ago." He tells Shigaraki, glad his voice sounds gruff instead of choked. "There's nothing I can do about them now." He tells him and this version of Shigaraki seems to be much better at picking up on social cues than his was because he drops the subject and just makes sure that Dabi's wounds are treated the best he can. 

"Are you hungry?" Shigaraki asks more gently. 

Dabi thinks he probably should be. The snake creature told him that he was unconscious for a few days, but everything in his head and the exhaustion that is still clinging to his body is stopping him from finding his appetite. He shakes his head weakly.

"I will hunt for you tonight," Shigaraki tells him anyway. "So you won't have to wait throughout the entire day before I can bring you something if you wake and need food then." Dabi doesn't protest, letting the other carry him back into the cave when his legs feel too weak to actually support his weight, and accepting the thin blanket that he was given. His coat and quirk also help with the spring chill in the air, and he makes due with curling up on the hard dirt floor. Truth be told, this is not the worst sleeping arrangement that he's ever experienced in his life, so he figures that he'll survive it for the night and figure out what he can do in the morning.

///

When Dabi wakes, he's not certain if it's still night or if it has ticked over into day. Shigaraki's den curves after a few meters from the entrance of the cavern mouth, creating a wall of stone between it and the entrance when one travels as far back as the naga insisted on keeping him when he brought him back inside the night before. With any possible light blocked off, Dabi realizes just how pitch black the world can really get. He lights a spark on his finger and finds that he's surrounded in iridescent darkness too, the thick coils of Shigaraki's body wrapped around him loosely, the other man's torso and head pillowed on the length of his tail as he sleeps, his breaths even and slow with the small candle flame flickering on Dabi's fingertip. He is careful as he extracts himself from the loose... embrace. For as weirdly kind and understanding as this Shigaraki has been, he doesn't know if that is going to last forever, especially when he doesn't know who exactly this is now, and he would much rather err on the side of caution with him.

He slips out and goes towards the end of the cavern, finding that curve and able to see the sunlight from the entrance beyond. His body doesn't feel as sluggish as it did yesterday, his legs carrying him even if he does have to lean against the wall to make it easier for him. He gets all the way to the entrance and has to squint against the bright sunlight. He can hear bird song and the buzzing of insects in the forest around him, the warmth of the sun immediately taking away the chill that was coming from deep inside of the cave. It's been a long time since he was somewhere so far away from the city that the smells of it couldn't reach him anymore, but this air is fresh and crisp as he takes it in. His eyes adjust and he tries to get a better look at his surroundings, stopping with a scream lodged in his throat as he sees, barely a meter from the place where his fire burned out the night before, a body laying slumped in the dirt.

Dabi has killed a lot of people in his life, he's seen a lot of corpses too, just in passing. He knows the difference from someone who is unconscious, and someone who is dead, and there is no doubt in his mind, even just from a glance, that this person is the latter. The person on the ground is a naked man with dark hair and small, dark ears that curve out from the top of his head, a long tail with long fur that lends it a sleek rather than bushy look limp against his legs. He sees that Shigaraki has scratched a message for him into the dirt, a brief note that Dabi still spends an eternity trying to make sense of. 

'Eat as much as you need.'

The other said that he had been hunting a rabbit. He told him that he had already hunted once the night before and that his appetite was sated. Dabi had wondered, absent-mindedly, when his mind was far more occupied with everything else that he needed to worry about right now, if that meant that he had unhinged his jaw like a serpent and had swallowed his meal whole. But when he had thought that, he had been picturing real animals. When Shigaraki said that everyone in this world was an animal, he thought that simply meant that they were animals as well as there being real animals in the world. But as he looks at this dead man and the innocuous note beside the body, he has a horrible feeling that he understands even less about this world than he thought he did.

///

Dabi is still hurt and he can't go far, but he does go into the forest. He knows that pine cones have pine nuts and that he can eat those. He hates himself when he reaches for his phone, intent on looking up other forms of foraging that he might be able to do, but finds that his phone, even though there is still a small charge left, is a useless hunk of plastic, glass, and metal. There is no signal of any kind to be found, no satellites for it to hook up to, no way of using it to help better his chances for survival in its current state and he makes the decision to power it off completely in the hope of conserving what is left of the battery if this strange quirk ever wears off, so that if he magically pops back to the correct universe, he'll at least be able to call his actual companions and find out what the hell happened. 

He gathers pinecones, looks for other food, water, anything, and after about half an hour of walking, making sure to burn little scorch marks into the trees as he passes so that he doesn't get lost in the woods, he comes across a burbling stream. It feels like just another cruelty of fate that he is going to be forced to eat fish to survive, but he will take anything that he can get that is not the dead man who is laying naked at the mouth of Shigaraki's cave. No. He's not nearly in dire enough straits to think that cannibalism is the way he should go to get through this situation for now. 

Dabi has never had to fish before, but without a line, hooks, or rod, he figures that he's probably going to be better off trying to use his quirk for the task. He hates to do it, but he has to take off his coat, taking two thick fallen tree branches and stabbing them as deeply as he can into the muddy bank of the stream. It only reaches his mid-thigh, so he is able to wade across it, tying the sleeves to each end of the post and then using the long tails of it, weighing it down with heavy stones he pulls up from the bottom of the bed. It doesn't stop the water from flowing through it, or the fish from swimming into, and then around it, but it does stall them for a moment and Dabi climbs back out, moving about a meter down from the coat and building a fireball as hot as he can make it into his hands. He throws it into the stream, twisting away quickly as it erupts into a burst of steam that would burn him as badly as the fire. The sound of the explosion echoes around the area and he moves as quickly as he can to try and get the fish that are now floating to the surface of the stream as the water rushes back in. He gets down into the bank and uses the barrier of his coat to gather as many of the dead fish as he can before they're swept away, managing to get seven, one nearly as long as his forearm, and toss them up on the bank before he retrieves his soaked coat. He runs it through the water, cleaning the bottom of mud, and then slings the heavy fabric over one arm as he heads back up to the bank. With his spoils in hand, he starts to make his way back along the trail of soot marks. 

He still has to go and gather more firewood and sticks to cook the fish on, and he realizes that if he's going to be here for days at least, he also needs to make sure he has a way of getting clean drinking water too. His side is aching badly, but he goes out anyway to do whatever he needs to, not wanting to rely on the snake to help him when the offering he was given was cannibalism. It's probably some time after noon that Dabi is back in the camp with a decent sized pile of branches to use as firewood. He knows some of them are probably too wet to use, but he can dry anything that isn't suitable.

The next issue is drinking water and a knife. He hasn't actually ever gutted a fish or scraped away its scales, but he knows that he needs to do those kinds of things if he wants to actually be able to eat today. It takes him a good hour of trying to find any stone that seems like it might be thin enough and sharp enough for the task, and even then, he's certain that he's going to make a mess of this whole process. Whatever. He just needs to make sure that it's cleaned enough that he'll be able to gag it down. Figuring out how to make a vessel to boil in is harder. The basin of rain water is a massive stone formation that cannot be moved, and he doesn't exactly have a lot of metal to use, even if he can get hot enough to melt most of them. It pains him to do it, but he takes his support cuffs off of his sleeves, splitting the seam along the welding line and taking out all of the internal bits that actually make them work, including the tiny canisters of liquid nitrogen. The metal then, is fairly thin and he takes it and the fish back to the stream because he's fucking stupid and should have stayed there in the first place. 

But he goes to the bottom of the stream and pulls out one of the smooth rocks that has been curved from the water constantly running over it. He sinks that halfway into the ground along the bank and then heats the thin sheets of metal around it, circling it with his hands and irritating his seams badly from having to keep contact with the material. But over the course of a few minutes, he's turned one of his cuffs into a small cup that he should be able to put into the fire. He does his best to make a handle so that it can hang over the fire but he doesn't know how long that will last. He also takes the second cuff and tries to melt it as hot as it will go and pound it out between two stones, one fairly wide and flat, to try to make a lid with an edge sharp enough to be used on the fish. He doesn't think he's as successful with making a knife from that, but at least he can cover the cup to keep too much water from evaporating. 

He's only just started to try and gut the fish, tearing through the skin and muscle beneath in a messy, jagged way, that he still has to hook his fingers into so he can actually, fully, tear it open, when he nearly jumps out of his skin as Shigaraki says, 

"You shouldn't have gone this far from the den," His voice is gentle and lightly chastising, but Dabi is too busy trying not to send the mess of things that he has with him into the stream as he jumps out of his skin. He had heard the snake creature the night before when he moved, but looking up now to find that he has been able to make his way through the trees without calling attention to himself at all, is a terrifying reality to be made aware of. "You're still healing." 

"Yeah, and where I'm from, we don't eat people." He snaps, turning his attention back to the fish. He has its sticky blood all over his fingers, his nails trying to scrape through the guts to take out the things that he knows he can't eat. But he's never liked fish, and this process is making eating the things even less appealing. 

"Your people only eat fish?" And just from the tone, he can tell that the other man is not at all impressed with the mess he's making of trying to do just that. 

"No. Where I'm from," he says, flinging the fish guts off of his fingers and back into the stream. He thinks he has to wash them out too before he skewers them and puts them over the campfire. "Only a small amount of the population are heteromorphs-- animal people. The rest of us are normal humans and unless you're really fucked in the head, none of us eat people, we just eat real animals." The fact that he's having to deal with an ally twice in his life that considers cannibalism perfectly normal and acceptable is truly a horror he could have never been prepared for, but he gives up on trying to make it make sense. He can only ask for his sanity to withstand so much. 

"True animals are rare," Shigaraki tells him, coming up to the pile of fish and taking one. Dabi opens his mouth to snap at him, but he simply extends a claw which normal, limbless snakes definitely do not have, and slits the fish along its stomach easily. He lets the blood and guts spill out, more careful in taking out the innards before he offers it to Dabi. 

He still has to scrape the scales from it, but he will take that over trying to dig around the insides as Shigaraki settles by him. "...Thanks." 

"I'm sorry I didn't ask for more clarity when it came to your diet. Will this be enough to sustain you?" 

"Until I'm well enough to go to one of the cities you mentioned, yeah." He mutters, trying his best to make these fish properly edible. "I need to see if I can find someone who can send me back home." 

"Witches are rare," Shigaraki warns him again. 

"Because people burn them at the stake or what?"

"At the stake?" The other creature sounds genuinely confused, but he shakes it off quickly enough. "No, the blessing of magic is just rare and it often takes a toll, stopping a person from gaining a secondary species. I think that Ustron is the nearest city that I've heard tale has a witch living within the walls."

"How far away is that?" 

"Nearly eighty kilometers on foot." Shigaraki tells him, "And the travel will be dangerous. Trade between cities is difficult to facilitate and oftentimes merchants who travel are ambushed by bandits from the wilds trying to take whatever they can get." 

"I can protect myself." He's certain of that, at least. 

"If I had wanted to kill you when I approached, I would have been able to do so before you even noticed my presence. You do not have nearly strong enough senses to keep yourself protected from those who would make a meal out of you."

Dabi wants to protest further, if anything even touches him, he'll turn it to ash, but if something is able to sneak up on him, if his neck could be snapped before he even notices that he's no longer alone, then his quirk won't matter at all. He doesn't like that thought, but there isn't anything to do for it. He needs to find a way home. He isn't going to make it long if he doesn't. 

"I can accompany you, once you are well enough to travel, and I can collect the fee." 

"'Fee'?" He doesn't necessarily want a babysitter, but at least this Shigaraki is actually trying to look after him instead of just leaving him to fend for himself the way he did after Kamino. 

"The 'civilized folk'," There is a clear derision in Shigaraki's tone as he says it, finishing with gutting the pile of fish and dipping down to the stream to wash them out for Dabi. "Believe that the 'ferals' will enter their cities and wreak havoc, devouring their citizens, mounting attacks, things of that nature. If a feral wishes to enter the city, then they must do so by bribing the right people. They only get very specific portions of meat from their dead and most of the predators subsist on fish, as you insist on. But the right guards want something else. For two of us to enter, we will need to procure thirty pounds of flesh." 

"What about the guy back at camp?" 

"Unless we leave tonight, which I would not recommend, the stoat will be long rotted." 

Dabi is not a stranger to killing people to get to his goals, so he shrugs. "Okay. I can last on fish for a while, though vegetables or something else would be good." He doesn't know much about edible plants and he really isn't surprised when, for as helpful as the other man has been so far, he doesn't offer him any other comments about that. He supposes if Shigaraki's diet really is that of a snake, then he probably doesn't eat any plants. "How long do you think it will take for me to be good to travel?" Especially after all of the activity today, his side is hurting, a dull throb on the edge of his awareness that he is going to have to deal with sooner or later. Once he gets something to eat and drink, he'll sleep for the rest of the night. It's not like Shigaraki seems to need him for anything in particular. 

"I'll check your dressings at my den." He tells him, helping Dabi finish up the process of cleaning the fish. 

When they're done, Shigaraki selects a large flat stone and he brings it easily back to the camp. The body is gone, a smattering of blood left on the dirt in its wake, and Dabi does his very best to not think about that too much. He arranges the fire, the flat stone put nearby for him to use as a cooking surface if he wants it, and he skewers the fish, hangs his cup filled with rainwater, and covers it so that it boils and the meat cooks.

Shigaraki doesn't make small talk with him as he prepares and forces himself to choke down the meal, every bite only just adequate enough to sustain him, but still absolutely foul. He can't believe that he was so unlucky that he would end up not only being hit by a quirk that sent him to another world entirely, but one where his only options for food are cannibalism or fish. It really is amazing just how cruel his life keeps turning out to be as he does his best to just make it through. 

///

Shigaraki shows him the plants that he's been using to make the poultice, how it is mashed between stones and a larger leaf is laid over top so that it keeps the moisture inside and helps to improve the healing process and keep out parasites or infection. Dabi learns well enough that he knows how to deal with it on his own, which is good, because after eating two meals in such a short span of time, Shigaraki is tired. He barely makes it through teaching Dabi before he's excusing himself to go deep into his burrow again and curl up. Dabi knows snakes eat big meals and then don't do much else for a while, but when the snake doesn't wake when he slips back into the den to go to bed for the night too, and he's still sleeping soundly in the morning, and all the way until sundown the next night, he realizes that must apply to nagas too. Shigaraki doesn't react to his footsteps or to him bringing in a torch, made from putting some twigs and embers in his water cup and holding it on the end of a stick so that he doesn't have to burn his hands again to keep the light going. He just slumbers on as the dim light flickers across his features. It's a far cry from his boss, the Shigaraki who is scrawny with his pale blue hair and nerdy references who never fucking sleeps. This Shigaraki didn't know him, but his curiosity had been enough to go out of the way to save his life, who is willing to go so far to help a stranger that he has decided to help him travel all the way to a city just on the off chance that he might be able to find someone with just the right kind of magic to take him back home. He doesn't know if his Shigaraki would have done that. Sure, the boss usually tries to do right by them now that they're the only thing that he has left, but if the League thinks that Dabi was straight up vaporized the way Magne was, then he knows in his heart that Duster will just use him as another martyr to rally behind. Dabi wasn't even supposed to be on that job. Pure chance that he was, pure chance that one of their fuck-ups got him killed like it did Magne. He hopes that when he gets back that they're all ready to sob at his feet and he can use that to get whatever else he needs to get to his revenge the way he so wants to. He holds onto those hopes as his new companion sleeps on. 

///

On the day that Dabi and Shigaraki are ready to set out, his side is still not healed perfectly. It is still tender to the touch, but the fresh pink layer of skin has sealed it up where it can, and has tightened around his seam enough that he's not worried about springing a leak and letting his guts fall out. Shigaraki considers him, considers their path of travel, and makes Dabi rest for the day. He has better camouflage at night and that is when he wants them to travel. 

"I can't see in the dark and walking around carrying a torch is going to get us noticed too." He says flatly. 

"You won't have to walk." Shigaraki tells him easily. "You can ride on my back." 

The immediate response of sputtering and blushing like a schoolgirl is not exactly very good for his ego, but he can't help it. "I'm not gonna ride you like you're the world's weirdest horse!" He's never even ridden a horse in the first place for god's sake. 

"Why not? It won't be a burden." Shigaraki tells him, moving in close without hesitation. He also doesn't hesitate to bend down and reach for him, picking him up from the ground and holding him in his arms. Dabi sees the ripple of muscle through his chest and arms, his stomach swooping as he is made so weightless as the naga lifts him like he weighs nothing. "You're very light," he tells him, shifting so that he can put Dabi onto his tail. Dabi scrambles for something to hold onto so he doesn't slip off of the side as the other starts to move, making a lap around the outside of the camping grounds as if that's the reason Dabi protested. "See? You'll be safe this close and you won't have to worry about being able to travel by sight."  

"I--" he loses his protests as he makes himself let go of the other man's waist that he'd been clutching onto for dear life. "Fucking, fine, whatever." He makes himself slide off of the other's tail. He's so much longer than Dabi thinks he should be, and the appendage is probably half as thick as Dabi is tall. He can easily support his body too, but it still feels humiliating to be made so small in such a new way. 

He stomps back over to the camp fire and continues to dry his fish into jerky. The taste has gotten no better, but he won't be very happy if he has to go multiple days of travel without food, even if he doesn't have to walk. Maybe when they get to the city-- A thought comes to him and Dabi looks up at the other man. 

"What about once we get into the city? The meat is a bribe to open the doors, but when we're there, what about money? I only have yen." He doesn't think, given everything else that is different about this world, that his money will actually be good here. Which means that he's going to need something else instead. 

"Trade is more common than coin, even in the city." Shigaraki tells him. "And I'll be gathering a good amount of the herbs that I used to help you so that we will be able to afford what we need." Shigaraki gestures for him to follow and Dabi gets up and does so. It's mid-afternoon, but this is the first time Shigaraki has been awake in days, and he is just glad for the company after several days of just sitting alone in the silence with his own thoughts. 

The naga brings him to a small area near his den that is lush with plant life. These are the herbs that he showed him how to use before and he isn't sure what the other wants to show him. "We were meant to live like this." Shigaraki tells him. "In the wild, with our instincts, strength, and wit. But centuries ago, when there were more witches, they created cities. People gathered there and over time, nature started to abandon them." Shigaraki leans down and starts to pick the plants, careful to do so in a way that doesn't damage the roots or too far along the stems. "Medicine became less potent, food became less filling, sleep less satisfying. But they insist that because they are able to farm plenty, even making places where they breed fish for their abundance, that the way they live is right and true. They are weaker, even if they have some luxuries that would benefit those in the wild." 

"So I guess you're not thrilled about my cup?" He asks, trying to work out how much of what he said is actually true and how much of it is just legends and hearsay. 

"Simple tools to supplement your abilities are fine." Shigaraki tells him with a shrug. "Using medicine to heal wounds, sharing an overabundance with a neighbor, those are all things that can do us well. It's the gathering together, forcing nature to bend to one's own will, that nature itself is punishing those in cities for." 

"So making a garden of medicinal plants is fine, but making a garden for vegetables is not? Seems like a weird double-standard to me." He tells the other because he just can't stop himself from being contradictory even when every ounce of good sense tells him not to offend the giant snake monster that could kill him in a heartbeat. 

"Perhaps, but my plants brought you back from the edge of death, and the ones in the city barely heal. Why do you think they have so many dead to use for their meat rations?" He posits, and Dabi really doesn't have any way of countering that claim. He helps the other man gather a large amount of the herbs, but still not enough to even cause a quarter of the plants to look bare as they do so, and is just glad that this means that he won't have to try and make money in a world he doesn't understand at all. He's spent more than enough time doing that just after his coma. 

When they've finished with their gathering, he manages, past his pride, to mumble, "Thank you." 

"Of course." Shigaraki tells him and Dabi has to make himself actually move to look the other creature in the eye. 

"Thank you." He grounds out. "If you hadn't pulled me out of that crater I would have died. If you weren't helping me now, I wouldn't have any way to get back home. You didn't have to do any of it and I would have probably been more useful to you as a snack. But you helped me instead of eating me and you're going out of your way to get me to the city. Thank you." 

Shigaraki considers him for a long moment, long enough that Dabi worries that this all hasn't been some act of grace after all. That this was some sort of scheme to get him to let his guard down so that he would fall victim to his fangs or claws in some other way that he just wasn't expecting. But then his head tilts slightly to the side, "In your world, do you have... bonds?" 

Dabi frowns. "What kinds of bonds? Like family ties?" 

"I suppose that's one way of considering them." 

That does not give him the answer that he wants, but this Shigaraki can apparently be as esoteric and weird as his own. "Some people do-- I don't. I want to destroy my family." He sees the way that something... dims behind Shigaraki's eyes as he says that. 

"I see." 

And Dabi hates the way that those two simple words can make him feel so painfully inadequate. "But you do, sort of. You made a group that I was a part of. You've been doing your best to lead us to a new future. In my world, everyone has magic and some people use it to pretend to be heroes of the people, but it's all just to cover up their own selfishness and ambition. The League that you made is supposed to be fighting back and destroying it all so that no one ends up forgotten or tossed aside like we were." 

Shigaraki takes that all in and tilts his head slightly. "And were you happy in my care?" 

Dabi isn't sure about the phrasing, but he tries to be a little more generous, "You got the job done for the most part, and that's the main thing that I cared about. But we weren't exactly hanging out when we weren't working. We don't have much in common. To be honest, I think I get along with you more than I ever did with him, and it's not just because you saved my life." 

He knows that the other man is a giant snake, but there's no other way to describe his demeanor than that he perks up like a puppy when he says that. "That is good to know. Come, let's finish preparing for our trip." 

Dabi trails after him, more than ready to stop with the genuine shit and get ready to leave. 

///

Traveling through the dark, sitting on Shigaraki's back, is a strange experience. The serpent can move nearly silently through the brush, his long body curving gently, and keeping his torso low, Dabi ducking along his tail as well, so that any other creatures will have a hard time of spotting them as they go. They don't speak a word, and Dabi tries to strain his eyes to ensure that no other creatures come towards them, but the truth is that he can't see more than a meter or so away from himself with how thick the tree cover is. He just has to trust the other man to guide them. They don't speak as they travel and Dabi doesn't know how he should feel about that. He's tried not to converse too much with the League, with his own Shigaraki because he was always of the mind that he needed to be careful so that none of them catch onto what he's doing before he's ready to actually achieve his goals. But traveling in silence now feels far less like he's doing it because he's worried about sharing too much with this stranger, and far more like any word could lead to their downfall if one of the other creatures that must be living in this forest finds them. 

They travel through the night, but when he starts to see the sky being brought just a few shades bluer as dawn starts to set in above them, Shigaraki starts to look for somewhere for them to rest. There isn't a good space for them, but they eventually find a felled tree and Shigaraki uses his tail to push the dirt up alongside of it, creating a little trench for him to lay his body in that will be nearly completely concealed by the tall grass and bushes that are in the area. 

"If you need anything, wake me. Don't wander off on your own." Shigaraki warns him, and Dabi hates the wave of helplessness that goes through him as he's made to feel like a child. He hasn't been helpless in a long time, has worked so hard to make sure that he never would be again, and the reality that he just can't help being anything but that in this unfamiliar world makes him furious. But Shigaraki has done so much for him already, so much he had no need of, to make certain he got even just this far. He isn't just going to spit in the face of that kindness when he could have been devoured the moment that the other man found him. So as Shigaraki lays down to sleep, he just stays sitting up, trying to keep an eye and ear out for anyone who might come near them. 

It takes about four hours, if he had to guess purely from the location of the sun in the sky, before he spots any kind of movement around him. It's at least ten meters away, a man, probably shorter than Dabi himself, climbing down from a tree. Like the other that Tomura ate, he wears no clothes, and he has a set of ears and a tail that are inhuman, The ears are small, thin, and rounded, while the tail is extremely bushy and brown, the length of it and the slight curl at the tip telling Dabi that this must be a squirrel. He watches the man gather pine cones and acorns, careful not to move a centimeter so that he isn't noticed, until the man goes back up into the tree again and stays there for a good long while. Dabi eventually decides that he should probably sleep too and when he shifts, meaning to take off his filthy coat to use as a blanket, Tomura cracks an eye open at him. That alone surprised Dabi, given how hard the other man slept, but he wonders if not being in the safety of his own den is making him more aware is the cause. He doesn't protest as the other pulls on his wrist and brings him down into the ditch, though he feels his face heat when Shigaraki pulls him into his chest and Dabi feels his entire face go hot. Physical touch isn't something that he's gotten much of in his life, certainly not since he became an adult, and absolutely not of the 'buff naked man' variety. Shigaraki lets out a soft, contented sigh and closes his eyes again, his breaths evening out like he was barely awake to pull him close, and Dabi is really glad that he doesn't stay conscious for long enough to see how much he struggles with staying where he's been laid. He hasn't ever... cuddled up to someone like this before, and he's not entirely certain where his hands should be, if he should have taken off his boots first, if he should have his nose pressed so close to Shigaraki's skin that he can smell him. He doesn't smell bad, not sour with old sweat the way Dabi's skin keeps feeling like it is despite his best efforts to rinse off in the stream before he knew he would be close to the other man for two days. Dabi wonders if snakes even sweat at all, because the scent that clings to him just smells like the forest. It fills his nose, his skin cooler against his own, even as the sun shines above them, and Dabi... lets himself slump against his body too, lets himself rest his hands against the other's skin and shift so that his weight is settled more comfortably over Shigaraki's body, and he lets himself close his eyes. 

///

By the time he wakes again, it's to Shigaraki gently shifting him and the sky darkening as the light leaves for the day. "You can go back to sleep, firefly." He murmurs softly. "I need to go hunt for our fee. I'll be  back shortly." 

Dabi shakes the dregs of sleep off very quickly at that, pushing up and trying to find his words. He has killed plenty of people, he's worked with other cannibals before, though his mind still catches on the reality that in this one, all people who eat meat are cannibals. That he can just exist in a world where the circle of life will take its toll day in and day out and there is no reprieve for it because they all have to eat, that this is a place that would punish its people for going against that very nature by trying to create outposts of civilization with more plenty. It's all so much, so horrifying in a strange way that he doesn't quite have words for. 

But this is the fee required for him to even attempt to find a way home, so he keeps his voice low as he catches Shigaraki's forearm, "I saw a squirrel, earlier. A man." A dull sickness stirs in his gut as the naga's attention sharpens on him intensely, his head tilting in inquiry. Dabi sits up from the ditch all the way with a shaky breath and strains his eyes to find the right tree in the dying light. "There," he points. 

"Thank you. This shouldn't take long, stay here, keep low, and be quiet. I won't be the only one starting my hunt." Shigaraki waits for him to tuck himself in the space that he's left behind and then watches as the naga turns to start to stalk towards the tree. Dabi keeps his eyes out, watching with bated breath. He's seen his boss kill people before. A lot of times now that they've been on the run. He's seen him exact bloody revenge. He knows what his Duster is capable of. But the body he brought back the first time seemed pristine. He wants to see how this version of him kills. 

He tracks him as he moves, finding the other man goes to the adjacent tree rather than the one Dabi pointed out and watching as Shigaraki uses the strong muscles of his tail to creep his body up along the bark vertically until his dark body is disappearing into the tree. Dabi watches, his heart beat loud in his ears, as he waits to see the snake strike. 

The crack of a twig to his left is the only thing that keeps him from being gored on claws, his twisting towards the sound allowing him to narrowly avoid the figure that comes lunging over the log to tear out his throat with a snarl. 

"Fuck!" The outburst and the other man's body slamming into the ditch as Dabi pushes himself out of it absolutely ruins any semblance of stealth that Shigaraki had, so he doesn't hesitate to light up his hands as he faces off against the creature in much closer proximity than he likes to. He only gets a better look at the other man as he sends a gout of flame towards him, and even then, all he can make sense of is dog of some kind from the way the ears look as the creature darts out of the way and skitters across the ground, hands against the dirt as he comes to a stop, claws tearing up lines through it. 

His ears pin back and he bares his teeth in a loud snarl. "A witch,"

"A fucking idiot." Dabi snaps right back, not even waiting for the words to be off of his lips before he has a much bigger arch of flame leaving his hands. This one isn't so easy for the other to dodge, so hot that just breathing in the air near it will scorch the lungs and give any skin within half a meter of it a first degree burn. It's more than hot enough, apparently, that even though the wolf is able to dodge the worst of it, he can't move away fast enough to keep his tail from catching. 

The yip that comes out of him as he drops to the ground, trying to put it out, has Dabi filled with a malicious satisfaction, that he's finally getting to show this strange new world that he is capable and dangerous. And then, just before he can throw his hand out to burn the man to death, he lets out a much louder, more resonant howl that chills him to his bones. Dabi burns him anyway. He knows they need the meat, but he doesn't know if anyone will want the mess he usually leaves behind when he does his business of killing. But he knows that he doesn't have another way of getting this done without his flames. They only need thirty pounds. Maybe Shig will be able to tear away the chunks of flesh from the charred skin and they'll be able to put together enough--

The sound of footsteps echoing through the woods and getting closer do not care about subtlety in the slightest. They come accompanied with howls and snarls and Dabi runs. The body is still burning, the grass is starting to catch, and he needs to not get caged in with the pack of wolves at his back and the fire separating him from where he saw Tomura last. He manages to make it to the tree, seeing the squirrel overhead crashing through the trees as he tries to flee, but he can't see Shigaraki up in the tangle of the branches as he pauses with his back to the thick trunk of the tree so that he's at least not exposed from that angle. He sees one of the wolves stop near the body of the first, the acrid smell of cooking flesh starting to spread through the air. But two more start towards him and Dabi lights his hands up again. 

"Didn't work out so well for your friend," he warns, putting as much venom in his voice as he can. "Back off, or I'll burn it all down!" He doesn't wait for these ones to get in close. He sends out a gout of flame towards them that tears through the forest, Dabi not having seen or heard a drop of rain fall since he arrived here. He really will destroy this forest if he unleashes himself completely, and if they're stupid enough to fuck with that, then he will. If he rolls up to the city as a serious threat, then maybe word will spread and other witches will come rushing to him to try and make certain that he doesn't do any more damage beyond what he's already sowed. 

He hears the wolves snarling and barking at each other and he doesn't know if they are actually speaking another language or if they are just doing their best to confuse him as they try to circle around to flank him on either side. Dabi throws out both of his arms, lighting up his palms separately to prove to them that won't split his attention enough to let them actually hurt him, but before the one on the left can be stupid enough to try to rush at him anyway, a rustle in the tree overhead has the wolf's head snapping up. He doesn't look quickly enough though, as Shigaraki lunges down, his tail holding him to the tree as his arms reach out and he catches the wolf with his fingers around his neck, hauling him up into the tree again in a split second. Dabi is breathless just from the sheer speed of the strike before he hears a snap and then the body is dropped back down to the ground where several other bones crunch as the entirely dead weight of it hits the hard earth. The other wolf that had been approaching them yips, this one sounding far more frightened, and he quickly turns, rushing back to the third who is still by the first body. He grabs the other by the arm and yanks them from the ground, the two of them disappearing into the growing dark.

Shigaraki slips down from the tree, "Can you douse those flames?" He asks as he sees them starting to spread more through the forest. 

"Not even a bit." 

"Come on then," he says, his voice tight with his urgency. He grabs Dabi's arm, hoisting him onto his tail before he slithers, so quickly that Dabi is having to wrap his arms around his waist and hold on tight with both his hands and his thighs as he clenches them around the other's body. And the naga grabs his kill too, not bothering to throw it onto his tail or even be delicate with it as he catches the ankle and drags it alongside them as he flees from the flames as fast as he can go. 

///

They keep that breakneck speed for a good hour, Dabi's body aching just from having to hold the other so tightly, doing his best to not look at the body being dragged along with them as he knows that dragging it over the dirt and vegetation have torn into it because he can smell blood following them as they travel. He can't see the smoke from the forest bleeding into the sky, but it takes a while before he stops seeing the glow of his flames against the dark backdrop. When they're fairly far, Shigaraki slows his pace, looking for somewhere safe for them to pause their travel. He seems to find it under the shade of two large trees, dropping the body before he's coiling his tail around, making Dabi let go of his waist, as he brings him to his front so that he can see him. Dabi is expecting to be reprimanded, he's not expecting for Shigaraki's hands to cup around his face, tilting his head up so that they can meet one another's eyes, something desperate and... frightened in Shigaraki's. 

"Are you alright?" 

No one's asked him something like that in a long time. Even the League. He was always just expected to be alright because he is the one that is supposed to be the best at this. Sure Compress and Twice have more years of experience than him, but Twice isn't all together anymore and Compress wasn't doing the kind of on the street villainy that Dabi has been just to survive for the past decade. Duster always just put him in charge when he had something else to do, and he was expected to figure it out. When he had gotten knocked out in Kamino and woken up, puking, slurring his speech, dizzy with the worst concussion that he'd ever had in his life, no one asked him if he was okay. They just threw a bucket into his arms and started to debrief him extensively on everything that had been happening while he was unconscious before. He was always expected to just be fine, so no one ever bothered to check that he actually was. 

He didn't know that one simple question to make something sharp slip in behind his ribs, but he feels it sink a hook into something that he thinks is best left untouched as he answers, "Fine, sorry. Don't know how they spotted me." 

"It doesn't matter, as long as you're alright." Dabi isn't expecting Shigaraki to move his hands from his cheeks, down to his neck, along his shoulders, his palms going over the fabric of his shirt as he reaches his waist, and then he's tugging it up. Dabi isn't expecting the way that floods his entire body with heat again as it happens, glad that his scars and the dark will probably hide his blush from the other man. He opens his mouth to get an explanation, but the other is inspecting his side, making sure the vigorous movement didn't tear him open again and Dabi is able to breathe a little easier again. His side is throbbing dully, but he knows that he's fine. He knows how much more his body can handle before it starts to fall apart. 

"I'm okay," he's not expecting his voice to be so... soft. It's quiet and he feels like he needs to clear his throat, needs to make some comment about the body that they've been dragging with them. But he can't actually find a sound to make as Tomura looks back up at him. 

"Okay, wrap your arms back around my waist, firefly. I want to get us there before the city catches wind of the fire if it continues to spread." Dabi would have just waited to get moved into the right position, but Shigaraki's hands linger around his waist for another second as he leans down, Dabi's breath catching in the back of his throat, as his chapped, scarred lips press to his cheek, on that thin sliver of unmarred flesh between his staples and scars. A part of his skin that gets hotter still as Shigaraki pulls away and shifts to get a better grip on the body and start to move towards where they are going. 

Dabi wraps his arms around his waist, having to fight the urge to press his cheek against his back because that isn't about to hide how much embarrassment is coursing through his body as they travel now. 

///

It takes them the rest of the night, Shigaraki pushing past dawn as Dabi sees the... 'city' looming ahead of them. It is a city, he supposes, but he also supposes, based on everything else that he's been shown and told about this world, he should have expected it to be more of a large, rustic village, not the sprawling structure of metal, glass, and concrete that he's always expected when going to a city. He sees the wall that has been built out of probably the hundreds of trees that they cleared so that they could make this homestead, pinned into the ground with guard towers stationed periodically along it, and a large gate that he sees is open and has guards on the ground and in the two adjacent towers that are absolutely certain to see them approaching from the short grass that covers the half a kilometer stretch between the end of the the forest and the actual village itself. Shigaraki doesn't hesitate though, the body with them as he makes his way to the gates. 

"Hault," The guard yells when they're about five meters away and Dabi's skin bristles as he sees that the guards at the top of the towers reveal that they've got bows and their arrows are already notched towards them, the ones on the ground wielding spears and swords as they move up a bit closer. 

"We come to enjoy the hospitality of your city and converse with your witch." Shigaraki doesn't seem put off by the scrutiny and Dabi tries to sit up a little straighter. 

"Do you--" 

"Toya?" The voice comes, softly awed, and unfamiliar to him, but it still has him flinching. He peers around Tomura's shoulder and sees one of the guards rapidly descending from the tower, sees the rest of the guards tense a bit more as well. "What are you doing here-- If dad finds out--" 

The Shoto standing in front of them is not his brother. He knows that. He knows that he can't possibly be because he's too old, probably eighteen or nineteen, definitely not human with the white and red wolf ears poking up from the top of his head and the red tail that swishes behind him. He looks at him with an earnest ache in his expression, and his voice is hoarse as he fully takes in his appearance. 

"What happened to your ears?" 

Dabi hates how horrified he sounds. Hates that this Shoto looks concerned over what has happened to him. He always meant to reveal his identity to the world and use it as a weapon against his father and the supposedly perfect family that he crafted, but he wanted Shoto to be terrified of the destruction he was. He didn't want the pity or sorrow that he currently sees etching itself across his youngest brother's features. 

"Not your brother, kid." He says, slipping off Shigaraki's back as casually as possible, cracking his neck as he goes. "From a different world, I guess. No animal parts to begin with, plenty of, well I guess you guys call it 'magic'. Looking for someone who can send me back to where I belong." He says, deliberately running his hand through his dark hair, hoping they'll see there are no stumps of ears or evidence that they've been removed. He also hopes that just the way that he's dressed will keep them from questioning too much. Their clothes are far more simplistic, rustic, homespun, than Dabi's are and he has his phone in his pocket as well as further proof of his claims. 

Shoto considers him, "You have magic?" 

Dabi flicks out a hand, starting a flame that dances along his elbow and curls all around his fingers in homage to his serpentine companion before he lets it coil in the palm of his hand and he closes his fingers around it, snuffing it out. "Did your brother not?" 

He sees more than hears the rough breath that comes out of this Shoto's chest. "No, he didn't." He turns his attention to Shigaraki and the body that he's tossed to the guards. 

"More than thirty pounds. Enough to keep us here until he's finished his business, surely?" Shig sounds almost bored, but his eyes are sharp. Dabi would really like to not get into another fight before they've been able to sleep, and after a moment, Shoto nods. 

"Sir," one of the guards sounds like he's going to properly reprimand him. 

"The exile was for my brother. Not this one. If he's a foreigner in a strange land, then the best we can do is show him our hospitality. I will go to tell my father about our visitor." Shoto reaches into a pocket and gets out a wooden talisman that has their family name engraved in it. "For anything you need while you're here." He says, offering it to him. "It's connected to our family funds." And he doesn't say it, but Dabi sees the vindictive flash in his eyes as he hesitantly reaches to take it. Shoto is taller than him. He saw his brother at the summer camp, and they were the same height. The bear, fox, coyote, and raven all watching as this happens are also bigger, and Dabi wonders if that's a result of their mixed species. It probably doesn't matter, he just knows that it makes him feel so small even as he tries to keep his spine straight and tries to ensure that this Shoto doesn't see anything waver in him. 

He doesn't want his family's charity, especially not from someone who isn't his. But he wants to know who this Toya Todoroki was, if he had just as much reason to want to burn this village to the ground, if he might have had his own grudge against his father that he was just waiting for. He wants to know why he was exiled. He takes the talisman and drops it into his pocket without looking, drawling instead, "My companion is rather large," still at least two and a half lengths longer than any of the other creatures here, even the bear woman who stands nearly half a meter taller than Dabi himself, "Any place in town that can accommodate us comfortably?"

"Well, I think that the Third Cherry would have the room." Shoto's eyes spark with his delight. "It's the large building on the main square with the red shingles. They should be able to provide anything that you need. I'll come by after my shift and we can go see Natsuo and Mom." Dabi bristles slightly. He never wanted to see Natuso again in his pursuit of getting his revenge, definitely never wanted to be in the same room as his mother. Natsuo was the only one who he thought was okay, who he didn't think deserved to burn, but his mother? Fuyumi? Those two had rolled over for everything Enji did. Even when Rei shattered, she crumbled and let him sweep her dust under the rug by putting her in the hospital while Dabi was left as nothing but a pile of glass shards looking to lash out at everything that he could cut. And to his knowledge, Fuyumi had gone off to college and then gone right back home to play housemaid for their father instead of cutting ties. It curls his lip and makes his stomach sour. 

"I'm here for business, not to catch up with some people I don't know." He says with as much dry venom as he can.

Shoto really looks at him then, his brows pulled together slightly, something that isn't quite pity in his eyes so much as it is... disappointment. Acceptance maybe. "Of course, but you see, Natsuo, Rei, and I are the only witches in the city." 

Of fucking course they are.

///

Dabi is able to walk with Shigaraki through the city, people darting out of the way for the naga with looks of abject terror. He sees plenty of other animal-people hybrids that he would expect to be dangerous, plenty more dogs, cats, boars, bears, and the like-- though he does note that the majority of them are all in guard uniforms, with most shop venders being... prey. Animals like deer, squirrels, rabbits, sparrows, sheep, and the like. There are some bigger prey animals that he sees moving larger bundles of wheat or bags of fish, but he doesn't see any prey at all that are dressed as guards. Neither he nor Shigaraki speak as they make their way through the main square, easily spotting a couple of other inns, but the largest of them is absolutely the one with the red shingles. He's not expecting that to put a little twist of worry in his gut. He doesn't know this Shoto, not that he even knows his real brother, but he doesn't like the idea of going somewhere that could result in their being found easily. But at the same time, he can't very well hide away from him if he really is one of the witches that Dabi is here to speak with. 

So they go to the Third Cherry and the deer at the front desk looks absolutely terrified when she sees Shigaraki. "We need a room," he pulls the seal out of his pocket and sets it on the counter between them. "On the Todoroki's generosity." 

The woman still looks like she would rather bolt than take out the logbook and see what she has available, but she does it anyway. "W-we have the bonding room on the top floor available. I-it--" Her voice squeaks as she rushes through the next words, "It's the only one with a bed large enough for your companion. But I can get you a separate--"

"That won't be necessary." Shigaraki cuts in, the 's' in the word lilting in a way that he's never heard him speak before as his tongue flicks out. "We'll be sharing the bonding room." 

Dabi wants to ask why a hotel has a room explicitly made for families, but then he considers that the secondary species might have closer family relationships than he's used to, and is completely distracted by the musings when the deer is quick to go on, "Of course, sir!" Her hand shakes as she picks up a quill and starts to write into the ledger. "A name for the room, or should I put it under 'Todoroki'?" 

"Shigaraki." Dabi tells her. He doesn't know if Shoto knows his chosen name, and he knows that no one should know Shigaraki's. "If someone comes looking for 'Toya', you can send up word, but my companion and I would prefer not to be bothered unexpectedly and would like to keep our privacy intact." He doesn't have fangs to bear, but the slow smile that he knows stretches his staples in horrible ways at the edges of his lips seems to be enough to help him to get his point across very clearly. 

"Yes, sir." She swallows, her eyes flicking from him to Shigaraki, and then back to him again, "T-the bonding suite comes with an hour in the bathing pools as well as a full meal prepared and arranged in your room. Would you... like to schedule that?" 

"We've been traveling for quite a distance," Shigaraki interjects smoothly. "If it's available, we would like to do both as soon as possible before we retire." 

"Yes, sir," Her voice is still a little frantic as she answers them. "We can have that arranged. Is there anything else?" 

"Fish, meat substitutes for the meal," Shigaraki tells her. "No meat." 

The look that crosses her face then seems more... confused than frightened then and Dabi feels his face flush slightly. He hasn't ever seen Shigaraki eat. He knows that he's hunted, knows he ate the first body he offered him, but he didn't think that he might be deliberately choosing to not eat in front of him to keep him from being upset. He wants to tell the other that he isn't some fair maiden with such delicate sensibilities that he can't handle the reality of what Shigaraki eats. 

"Meat is fine," he tells her. "Just make sure there's also fish and whatever substitutes you have." 

Her eyes flick back to Shigaraki, looking for approval, but he just inclines his head towards Dabi, seeming to show that he is the one that she should take into account first. "Of course." She finishes making her notes in the ledger and then turns to get a big, ornate key off of the wall behind her, handing it to him instead of the naga. "Top floor," she gestures to the double staircase that leads up from the first floor, "There will be a knock on your door when the bathing chamber is ready for you. Your meal will be prepared while you are in the baths." That's more than enough for him and he collects the talisman before he and Shigaraki turn to go upstairs. He's feeling the ache in his side, the dirt on his skin, and he wants to be clean, fed, and able to lay down in a real bed to rest until Shoto shows up.

He and Shigaraki head upstairs and he sees that there must be four floors to this building, the grand staircase going only to the second before it turns into a large hallway, at the end of which is a more normal and modest one that they take up the additional floors. He isn't surprised, based on the size of the building from the outside, that there are a good number of rooms on those floors. But when they get to their own, things start to differ clearly. The top floor only has four doors, three on one side of the hall, and a singular one on the opposite. When Dabi looks down at the key, he doesn't think he's really all that surprised to see the number for the single door. Shigaraki says nothing as they unlock it, though Dabi almost immediately wants to turn around and head back downstairs to say that, actually, this is too much, because the room inside is massive. Immediately he is blasted by light from an entire wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, the area so big that it a bed that make a California King look like it it might be modest, a massive dining table that is low to the ground that could probably seat a dozen, but that only has two cushions set out. He doesn't understand that, nor does he think that a large lounge area with a full bar is entirely necessary either. 

But before he can say anything about all of this, Shigaraki is coaxing him gently into the room and he's going because even though this is excessive, that bed really is probably the only one in the world that would allow Shigaraki to fit comfortably on it. They get inside and close the door behind them and Dabi is left at a loss of what to do, having never been in a hotel this grand even on his own planet. it's not like he has luggage or anything to put down. Shigaraki moves through the room, going to a decently sized wardrobe that Dabi hadn't even noticed was built into the wall, and opening it. Inside hangs two crisp, off-white robes with pants and a cropped wrap top, a pair of similarly pale slippers beneath them and a small wicker hamper in the corner of the closet.

"Here, you can put this on and we can leave the hamper by the door. They will do their best to wash your clothes, though I can't make any guarantees." He doesn't want to get the clothes dirty with his sweat, but he does go behind the screen to change into the robe, hoping that the bath will be ready soon as he makes sure his phone and the talisman are tucked away so that they can't be stolen. When he's finished that, Dabi ends up pacing the room, it's more than large enough to do so, and Shigaraki watches him from where he's coiled himself up on the couch. 

"Do you know anything about the witches here?" 

"...Only that they were related. I had no idea that the you who must have existed here was also related to them." Shigaraki considers his next words for a long moment in a way that has Dabi locking in on him. "I wasn't certain, but the rabbit I was chasing before you appeared, it smelled like you. I thought that my nose was confused, that I had only been able to lock onto your smell through the smoke and ash, but if that person was you before you came here, then the Toya Todoroki here was a rabbit." 

That's an indignity that Dabi doesn't like to think about, though he doesn't know if it's better or worse-- "Let's not tell them that I might’ve vaporized him by turning into a fireball on impact. I don't know if they'll give me any help getting home if they think I killed their brother." He means for the words to be mostly flippant as he flops into place beside Shigaraki on the couch. But they don't feel it when the other man's sharp red eyes never waver from him. 

"It's a surprise they're offering you any assistance at all if he was exiled from this place." He says with deliberate slowness. Dabi had caught that comment, but he had filed it away for later. Shigaraki seems to think it's important enough to bring up now though. "If he was exiled then he must have broken an extremely severe law or someone wanted him out of the picture. Exiling a prey is a death sentence." He stresses. "The fact that this version of your brother greeted you without malice and with a willingness to allow you to speak with other members of his family, makes me think that the latter scenario is the more likely." 

"Wouldn't surprise me," Dabi says, only hesitating a few seconds before he decides that there isn't much risk in telling this version of Tomura more. "My father is a bastard and he had a habit of throwing away anyone who couldn't help him get closer to his goals. If this Toya didn't have the magic that he wanted, then I guarantee he wanted him gone." He pauses, "You said he was a rabbit?" 

Shigaraki hums in agreement. "A rabbit in a family of witches and wolves would be a dangerous thing-- for the rabbit. Witches can defend themselves and have a more singular reasoning than others with secondary species. I can't imagine the amount of stress that Toya Todoroki must have been under if he was surrounded by wolves." 

Dabi... isn't expecting that comment to put something sour in his chest. An ache that goes right through him as he realizes that even in an entirely other world, he was still born unlucky. He still wasn't what he was expected to be. He was still thrown out. Fuck. Is he just wrong in every universe? He never thought much about the afterlife, about String Theory, or alternate universes or whatever. His eyes were always on the goal directly ahead of him. But two worlds that show him that he... just wasn't meant to have an easy life or to succeed leaves him with that sourness trying to root itself through his entire body. 

He attempts to shake it by asking, "What's so special about a 'bonding room'? The way she was squirming made it seem like she was worried about giving us the honeymoon suite." 

"What's a 'honeymoon'?" Shigaraki asks him before answering his question.

Dabi rolls his eyes, waving his hand flippantly, "It's a holiday that newlyweds take so they can fuck." 

"Oh, then yes, it is just like that." Shigaraki isn't making eye contact with him anymore, the very tip of his tail flicking slowly and... nervously against the floor. 

The heavier thoughts that had been rattling around in his head come to a sudden stop as he tries to put things together. "What?" 

Shigaraki still doesn't look up at him and Dabi doesn't think he's ever seen the giant snake acting like such a guilty dog before. "In our world, we form bonds. Usually we're drawn together by fate and a scent that calls to us when we're close. When we've found our mate-- or mates-- we participate in a bonding. We cleanse the bodies together, share in a meal, mark one another's skin, and entwine our blood, before we bring our bodies into one as well. Bondings don't have to be as elaborate as all of this," he gestures loosely to the massive room that they've found themselves in. "It can just be a rag, a cup of water, teeth or claws on the neck, and then sex in whatever home the pair have made for themselves. But it is... important. Sacred for wildfolk and walledfolk alike." 

Dabi feels heat rushing back to his face. "So she thinks that we're here celebrating our wedding on the Todoroki's yen?"

"'Yen'?" 

"Fuck you, I know you're smart enough to use context clues to figure that out." He snaps, hating that the sunlight pouring through the window isn't going to help him hide his embarrassment any like it had before sunrise.

Shigaraki sighs softly and turns his attention to him. "Yes. You can clarify to the version of your brother when they come to see us if it's an assumption that displeases you." Shigaraki's eyes slip away from his own again. "But in all truth... I was not chasing the rabbit version of you to hunt. I smelled him as he traveled by my den and I followed my nose to him. He smelled like... overcooked sugar and his terror. I thought it might just be how a rabbit would smell, I haven't hunted many in my life. There are usually stoats, foxes, and wolves in the forest that focus on using those creatures as their main food source, so I usually take to the trees to do my hunting instead. But when I pulled you from the center of that crater of ash you made for yourself, you smelled just the same-- though there was blood on you instead of fear." Shigaraki looks back up at him, that same glimmer of hope that he saw shining in the other man's eyes from when he first asked him about bonds there again. "I know that you aren't from this world, and I would never begrudge you to stay when you have a home that you want to return to, I just hope that you will let me be beside you when you go, so that if that magic can bring the version of you who was from this world back, then I'll be able to meet him." 

Dabi feels like his throat might collapse in on itself, but he still manages to force himself to croak, "What if he doesn't come back?" 

He hates that he can see that there was always a fracture behind that hope, behind any help that Shigaraki has offered him since he pulled him from the ground. "Then I will be very grateful for the time that I've been able to spend meeting you." He smiles and Dabi feels an unexpected pressure coming up from beneath his eyes, the tell-tale ache that he feels now when he is... about to cry. Why? Shigaraki has been kind, but this isn't his fault. He just... picked the wrong fight and ruined Shigaraki's maybe only chance at having a partner. Not his fault, but it still seems like another way he's been fucked over by the entire universe. In this world, this Toya Todoroki wasn't able to live a good life in the city, he was probably stressed out of his mind surrounded by wolves, got exiled, probably was being hunted by other creatures besides Shigaraki, and before he could even meet the person this world said would have been right for him, he got fucking yoinked out of his reality and thrown into a world where... he'll have all of Dabi's criminal reputation and none of the quirk that he needs to actually fight and protect himself. Dabi wants to throw up, wants to cry, because how could the universe be so unfair to him across so many worlds? How could it choose to not just punish him, but make him complicit in punishing Shigaraki too? Sure his boss Shigaraki isn't his favorite person, but snake Shigaraki is... good. He's good, kind, he would have taken such good care of a rabbit who had been exiled and scared. He bets that he would have planted a garden for him instead of helping him gut fish by the stream. 

Before the blood can actually slip over his cheeks or he can find a new way to put his foot in his mouth, there is a light knock on the door. "Sirs?" The voice that calls through it is not the same woman as the front desk, this one a bit lower and possibly masculine, though he's not sure. "The bathing chamber has been prepared for you." 

Shigaraki gets up, "I'm sure that you're more than ready to be properly clean." He says easily as he moves over to the door quickly and easily, opening it before the fox has left. 

He sees them duck their head slightly. "Would you like your meal brought up for you after your bath?" 

"Yes. We traveled through the night and will be retiring after we've bathed and eaten." He tells her easily. 

"Of course. Your meal will be put out in an hour, unless you would like us to delay it further?" 

"No, an hour should be more than sufficient." He looks up, whatever wistfulness, hopefulness that was in his eyes has been so neatly put away and he smiles without that fracture in it even though Dabi feels even more like a mess of shattered glass. "Ready, Dabi?" 

He feels numb, but he makes himself get up from the edge of the couch and shoves his feet back into the slippers, feeling smaller than even his stature makes him here as he walks over to them. The fox turns and leads them down the stairs, back to the first floor, and into a large, open onsen. There aren't other people inside, but it is mid-morning and based on the bustle from the streets outside, Dabi expects that most people are already out and doing their work for the day. But they don't stop at the public onsen. The worker brings them to a private chamber that contains a large, sunken tub-- not nearly as large as the bed upstairs, but clearly made so that two bearfolk or other large creatures would be able to enter it comfortably. The main tub is full of steaming water, but there is also a rudimentary shower set-up, and a table with a variety of soaps, scrubs, loofahs, and the like as well as one with towels, and hooks mounted on the wall for their robes. 

"If you need anything else, please ring the bell for an attendant." 

"Thank you." 

The fox bows their head again, "Congratulations," and then they turn to leave. 

Dabi's skin bristles, but Shigaraki doesn't seem concerned. This is an onsen, and he is from the wilds. No one wears clothes there. Dabi isn't normally concerned about nudity himself, not when he knows that he has a lot more to deal with if he ever is stripped naked in front of other people, but he knows that the nudity feels different now because now he knows... that Shigaraki thinks that they're mates. That if Dabi belonged in this world, that even if he doesn't, he would want to bond with him, that the idea had brought him some kind of joy that he didn't know he would even be capable of offering to any other person, let alone Shigaraki of all people. Even if this Shigaraki is nothing like the one that he knew from his reality. 

The other man just goes over, not paying him any mind, and turns on the shower head and moves so that it can cascade over his head, wetting his hair and taking the dirt from his skin. Dabi hadn't noticed it before, but he sees the water cutting through the grime, sees his tail coil up beneath him, scales moving against themselves and looking like oil, as he tries to get himself clean. Dabi takes a breath. Shigaraki hasn't pushed anything about the bonding and if he does, Dabi knows how to tell him 'no'. He thinks that... he would stop. He hasn't ever done anything else that would tell him otherwise. He hangs his robe and goes over to the second shower head, set just beside the first, and cranks the water to as hot as he can stand it, letting the water take the smell of sweat, blood, and dirt from his skin, and he tries to wall up any other thoughts that could distract him from the simple, animal pleasure of getting clean. 

///

The bath is wonderful, when he lets himself soak up that by itself. He makes sure to scrub his body with the offered soaps until he finally smells and feels clean. Then he and Shigaraki both get into the larger pool together. Shigaraki has to coil his tail twice to fit inside of it comfortably, and the water he displaces with his bulk is nearly a small tidal wave even though he clearly tries to do it gingerly. Dabi laughs at him, and he pouts on the other end of the tub from him, his torso at least. Dabi's legs still brush against his scales as they sat together. And when an hour has passed, there was a knock at the door again to alert them that their meal was waiting for them in their room. Dabi pulls himself out of the water first, going to retrieve one of the towels and drying off as Shigaraki attempts to do the same. His scales don't hold onto a lot of water, but he has a lot of scales to get through, and once Dabi has pulled his robe back over his body, he has to take pity on him. He picks up one of the extra towels and moves over to him, 

"Come on, I want to go eat and sleep." 

Shigaraki doesn't protest the help, and when they're both dry enough to make their way back to their room, they do so, leaving the bathing chamber without difficulty. When they get back up to their room, Dabi immediately pales as he sees the amount of food that has been put out on the table. The entire thing, from end to end, is covered in dishes. vegetables, fish, rice, soup, cuts of meat sliced so thin and delicately that Dabi would have no way of telling what person they came from. His nose is hit with the smell of spices that are familiar to him, and he has to force himself to go put on the pants and wrap from the closet instead of setting upon the feast ravenously. 

But seeing that plenty when he makes himself take a second to pause before he can sit and enjoy it, he thinks he finally understands the distinction that Shigaraki said there was between the plants that he's cultivated in his garden and what the people of this city are accustomed to. That amount of food could feed a dozen-- maybe two dozen, and it's been provided for just their enjoyment. Even for a wedding, that is a lot, especially if they don't have refrigeration here, which, given the oil lanterns, he's really doubting that there is any electricity here at all. This is too much. 

The fact he's been given so little all of his life nearly takes away his appetite, but he's forced himself to eat things that had no business being in his mouth just to survive. He isn't about to make that harder by being stubborn now when he's been given a feast after choking down fish for so long. He goes over to the table and finds that Shigaraki has poured them both a glass of water and one of saké as well. Dabi surveys the table and he finds that the food here, like the language, is all mostly traditional Japanese fare, and that puts him more at ease. That means that he just has to avoid anything that is made of meat from his world to avoid it here. Dabi deliberately decides to lock away whatever part of his brain that wants to worry about the fat used to cook things in, the butter, the stocks that must have been used, and the eggs that he can see as toppings and mixed into the fried rice. As long as he's not eating an actual dead body, he is not going to think about it. 

Dabi serves himself and Shigaraki does as well, the snake gravitating towards the many plates of raw meat that has been put out. There is a little table-top grill that has been brought up, filled with coal and accompanied by flint to use to start the fire, but Shigaraki doesn't bother to cook any of the meat. "Do you just prefer your meals raw or are you trying to limit your indulgence with city stuff?" He asks, before he's shoving a bite of rice into his mouth. 

"Both, I suppose. But I doubt that nature herself will punish me for a few days of this after choosing the wilds and staying there for seven years now." 

Dabi pauses, "You lived here before?" 

"Not here," Shigaraki tells him easily. "But yes, I did live in a city, I was born in one." He seems to consider his next words, but perhaps like Dabi weighed how much telling him his past would do, he seems to decide that Dabi's ears are worthy of hearing his own. "The city I was born in was very far away, nearly a year's travel, and my mother was a sheep and my father was an ox." Shigaraki meets his eyes across from him at the table, deliberately taking a bite of his food, telling him, without words, that he won't go on if he thinks that Dabi is going to stop eating as he listens. Dabi shoves something else into his mouth. He doesn't know how his Shigaraki ended up in the care of AFO, but if there is a world where he gets back where he belongs, it's probably going to come through whatever version of All For One is here. That creep has to be a witch, and he will probably have all of the power that he needs to send Dabi home.  

"It's rare, normally a child is one of their parent's species, but I didn't fit in. I didn't start to show signs of finding my secondary species until I was already close to five, when most do so at three, sometimes even younger. And I became a snake. That was... a horrifying process for them to watch from the outside, I'm sure. But I don't remember much beyond how itchy I was when my scales were growing in, and how hot my body was from the fever. I think my father would have caved in my skull if he'd actually had the stomach for that kind of violence." Shigaraki takes another cut of the meat and dips it into one of the small dishes of sauces littered around the table. "But he only hit me the first time I begged for meat instead of vegetables that they were starving me on. It was stupid of him to hit a starving predator, and I didn't remember that night for a long time. I do now. I had to take my sister's arms off her torso to get her down my throat, but she was the only one small enough that I could manage that with. I fled the city with my stomach full, and a powerful witch happened upon me not too long later, and took me in." 

"What happened to him?" He asks, unable to keep the eagerness out of his voice. He only realizes belatedly that he shouldn't have asked that first, "Fuck, sorry-- Sorry about your family being shit. I... I get it." He doesn't want to tell him just how little his father cared for him, that he had been too weak to ever fight back as violently as it sounds like Shigaraki was able to. 

"I take it that there is a person like my teacher in your world?" 

Dabi ducks his head slightly, "...Yeah. He's powerful." 

"He was here too. He would have been fascinated to hear about your world. But when I was fifteen, he got into a fight with a rival he had been dealing with for decades. They both perished in the fight. After that, I had the choice of trying to find a home for myself alone in the city we had been settled in, or going away from it all and living wildly. I chose the latter and have been doing so ever since." 

Fuck. "Sorry." He says again. He always was creeped out by the guy, but it does seem like Shigaraki's got some cruel luck across the universes as well if he just can't keep his father figure in his life no matter what he tries. 

"I've mourned him," it's such a flat statement, so at ease and so practiced when Dabi doesn't know if Shigaraki has even spoken to anyone else after he left his city. He could have been alone in that cave for years just telling himself those words to make the ache of the loss better. "And I would prefer to look towards the future. We shouldn't linger if we want to get any sleep before your brother's shift ends. Perhaps when he visits, your family will hold the solution to your problems." 

Dabi still feels hollow as they both turn their attention completely back to the food. He wonders if there really is something to what Shigaraki told him about nature's curse on the inhabitants inside the city when he ends up eating so much more than he usually does just to make that hollowness abait a bit. 

///

He wants there to be a solution. He wants things to be easy, but when a knock on the door wakes them from their sleep, their bodies not needing to be pressed together to share heat in the massive bed, and Dabi is forced to see his mother and brothers again, he is hit with the unpleasant reality that there just isn't. Natsuo and Rei don't have ears or a tail like Shoto, and they seem to find it more than a bit off-putting that he doesn't, that they have to tell him what his life was like here. That the Himuras are primarily a family of snow hares with occasional witches in their bloodline and that the Todorokis were wolves with genes of a similar magical stock. That Enji had been trying to breed an heir that was both a witch and wolf here, getting it in Shoto, and Toya losing his magic at twelve when he burned himself badly as he tried to train and prove he could still be useful even as a prey. Fuyumi has no magic and is a wolf, Natuso has no secondary species and is a witch. A healer specifically, who is more than happy to put his cold hands on Dabi's side and take away any trace of the wound he came here with. The scars, the staples, those are too old for him to do anything about, but he is just glad that he gets this much help. Especially when none of them have ever even heard about magic that can reach across worlds like this. They promise to look into it, but given how trade between cities is, just from what Tomura has told him about these little outcroppings of civilization, he understands that this is something that will probably take... months of travel. Of research. And they can't stay here this long, even if this version of his family seems to more than delight in them using Enji's fortune to get whatever they need. Dabi is quick to wheedle out where the next closest witch is, and that is something they tell him reluctantly. Another city. Two weeks of travel. 

It feels strange when the three of them give him hugs on their way out, but when they go, it's with a desperate look in their eyes like they want to keep him close even though he is a stranger to them. It makes more of that horrible hollowness bloom inside of him as he wonders if that's... how his family would feel about him if he ever showed himself to them. He doesn't say anything when they've gone. The staff collected the leftovers from their meal earlier and he and Shigaraki only got a handful of hours of sleep before they arrived, and he feels so much more exhausted than he did when they first woke up. He's glad the naga doesn't push at that and lets him just crawl back into the bed for sleep. 

Shigaraki doesn't say anything, but he slips back into the bed with him, close enough this time to press their spines together as they settle in for sleep again. It's such a small thing, but Dabi still nearly lets his seams split beneath his eyes as they ache with unshed, bloody tears. 

///

Two weeks of travel is a lot of travel. Just two days were dangerous for him, but Dabi needs to find a way home and this is all he can think of. So the next day, urged to keep the amount of people who see him small, he asks Shigaraki to go out and use the seal to buy anything he thinks that he'll need for traveling that long. And without fail, Shigaraki does. He comes back with a travel pack, a backpack made out of durable, if rustic fabric, a small sewing kit for any tears, a blanket and liner that can be stuffed with dry leaves for sleeping, a knife, some rations, a canteen, trowel, small pot and spoon, and other supplies for things like foraging and fishing. 

"We can leave tomorrow at dusk." He tells him as Dabi inspects all of the supplies. He never really had to camp, his time homeless spent in cities, but he thinks that this will be more than enough to get him through this time without issue. Sure, he's going to have to be careful to keep himself safe from predators, but he-- 

"'We'?" Dabi looks up, a small frown tugging at the edge of his lips. "You don't have to come with me. I mean, thank you for getting me this far, but I'm not going to make you stay with me when you have a place of your own to go back to." 

And Shigaraki doesn't miss a beat when he says, "There isn't anywhere in the world I would rather be than by your side, Dabi." 

It puts that lump right back in his throat. "I'm not your mate." 

"You could be," Shigaraki's voice is gentle when he says it. "But I know that you just want to go home and I wouldn't ask you to tie yourself here to be with me." He doesn't look away from him as he goes on, "But I can be with you for as long as I'm able while you're here. That is what I want. But if you would prefer to make your way without my company, then I will let you go." 

No one has ever wanted to hold onto him as badly as Shigaraki is saying that he does and Dabi hates that he feels like he's been fighting back tears for two days, because he can't keep up that fight any more. His vision mists red as pain starts in his eyes, blood slipping down his cheeks as he gives into that horrible ache in his chest. And this Shigaraki can't stop trying to be helpful, to be sweet, because he comes right into his space, he pulls him close and tucks his head underneath his chin and strokes his skin so softly as he embraces him. He holds onto him and doesn't say a word as Dabi falls apart. 

Two worlds. Two versions of himself, and he wasn't wanted by anyone in either. He was born wrong, chewed up by his father's ambitions, put through the agony of burning, and then still thrown away. Even if it took longer for it to happen to the Dabi who lived here, he still lost all of it. He would have never been able to get the revenge that he deserved. Would have never gotten any of it. Would have lived a short, awful life in the wilds if Shigaraki hadn't found him and tried to go to him to be his mate. And Dabi took that away from him. Is in the arms of someone that doesn't belong to him and that he shouldn't have. 

Shigaraki keeps holding him as he cries though, and it takes a long time for him to stop. When he finally manages to quell the emotions in him and tries to straighten out of the embrace to insist that the serpent lets him make his way through this world on his own so he can actually go find a real mate instead of holding onto him, if he even has another option out in the world, Shigaraki doesn't let the words leave his lips. His hand comes to his chin and he tilts his head up, dipping his own so that he can lick away some of the blood on his cheeks. 

"Don't--" The word hitches on his breath, another agonizing pang going through his chest as he knows that this is part of the way that they could be bonded properly. 

"Shh, you never have to belong to me, Dabi." He promises. "But I am yours for as long as you are in this world." 

And that brings a fresh ache of tears along his cheeks. Shigaraki doesn't hesitate to lick them away, to hold him close, to press soft kisses against his brow, over his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose. But he doesn't take his lips. It's the reckless, selfish, desperate need in him for something to be good when the world has shown him again and again that wasn't ever in the stars for him. He's the one who tilts his head up and presses his lips to Shigaraki's, and the truth is that that doesn't feel good either. He hasn't ever kissed anyone before, and just skin-to-skin is really nothing but the texture of their lips together, him able to feel the solidness of his fangs behind them, and wondering how his burned lip feels against the other's mouth. 

But like with everything else that he's done for him since Dabi arrived, Shigaraki guides him so gently. He threads his hands through his hair at the nape of his neck, cradling his skull carefully and tilting him so that he is in the position that he wants. His mouth slants back over his again, much more carefully, much softer, and Dabi lets out a weak sob as he tries to hold onto him, his fingers biting into his chest like if he just holds onto one thing it won't turn to ash in his hands like everything else. 

Shigaraki kisses him slow and sweet, moving his lips against Dabi's and making it feel... better. Nicer than the mash of their lips before. He keeps his hands above his neck, doesn't prod his lips with his tongue, doesn't try to give him the passion or violence that Dabi has always associated with sex and has been the reason he's avoided even the suggestion of it since he was so young. He's the one who pulls away and Shigaraki lets him, his grip immediately loosening, red eyes searching his face. 

"You should be with someone who can stay." He hates the rough croak in his voice, but he hates it even more when he lets himself fall apart when Tomura brushes away another tear from his cheek as he murmurs, 

"I want to be with you." 

Dabi is the one who pushes in again and Tomura takes him back. Holds onto him, pulls him closer, and he kisses him hotter this time. He uses his strength to catch him around his waist, arms encircling him completely and able to lift him up so that he can pull him into his body. He knows that he shouldn't let himself have this, but the show of strength, being made to feel so small in his arms as he picks him up, makes his whole body warm in a way that feels like the first threads of embarrassment, but turns sweeter beneath his skin instead of souring him. He brings his arms up around Tomura's neck, his hands tangling into that long mane of white hair that he hasn't gotten to touch before. It's softer than he expected it would be against his palms, and Tomura's tongue feels even stranger than he considered it might when it flicks imploringly against his lips. He doesn't know what he's doing, but he opens his mouth for the kiss that he wants so badly. He lets that forked tongue push in past his lips, lets it taste him and tries to taste him in turn. All the can make out is the copper tang of his own blood, but it doesn't matter, not when the probing touches of it inside of his mouth is sending more of that good, bright heat burning through him, burning away the melancholy that has been clinging so closely to him since this all started, maybe since he went wrong as a child. 

Tomura starts to move and Dabi squeaks, his legs instinctively wrapping around his waist at the start of his tail, so that he isn't dropped. The naga hums softly, a delighted sound at the closeness, as he moves them quickly over to the large bed. Dabi is breathless when he breaks the kiss to lower his body onto the bed, not going far as he slithers between his legs, his long hair falling around them in a curtain as he leans over his body. 

"You're so lovely, little one." He murmurs. 

And that makes the broken thing left in his chest try to force him to find some small sliver of decency in this mess. "I can't stay," he tells him, tries to tell him that they need to stop because this isn't fair. 

"You never have to, Dabi." He murmurs back, hand coming up to cup his face. "You never have to do this, never have to be mine in even the most basic way. You will always have my assistance and devotion while you are in this world." He promises him something that no one in two worlds has ever bothered with and Dabi doesn't know how not to be selfish as his whole body grows even warmer.

"I-- I don't-- I've never," He hasn't ever had to own up to that. It never bothered him that he didn't have sex before, he didn't think it was all that important, didn't think that anyone would ever want to touch him in the first place, and that he didn't need it before he got his revenge. And nothing would matter after that. But now he feels terribly inadequate as he is pinned beneath the weight of the goliath that is over top of him, his body already so different from Dabi's own that he would have been fumbling for that alone, and yet he still has to find a way of making this work. 

He's not expecting for Tomura's pupils to blow, for him to hiss softly as he presses back in to give him a kiss that seems to lick the air out of Dabi's lungs from how deep and hungry that it is. Dabi hasn't ever felt his... arousal start to build like this, normally only finding it in his sleep, and he isn't ready for the way that it makes every inch of his skin start to feel like it's more sensitive and tingly than it was just a second before. He's gasping for breath when Tomura pulls away again, his mouth immediately dipping to his neck as he breathes in his scent so deeply. 

"I'll make you feel good," he promises, his own voice thicker with his lust. "I'll have you howling your pleasure so loudly that no one in this entire building doubts that I am doing right by my blushing bride." 

Dabi's whole body goes even hotter at that, blood rushing to his cheeks as he blushes so brightly, proving the snakefolk right. "I'm not a girl." 

"No, and you're not my mate either." He says, his hands starting to move up to the tie that keeps the shirt he's been given in place. "But we could pretend for a little while." His voice is low, his lips against his throat and trailing down to his collarbone as his fingers tease that knot and Dabi's whole body feels like it is on the verge of melting in a way that he never has before. "You can be my bride, my lovely girl that I get to make feel so good for the first time. I promise that I'll make certain that your cunt, your clit, your pretty tits, every inch of my baby girl's body feels so good." Every word only makes Dabi's head foggier with heat. He thinks that his quirk might be boiling his brain in his skull. That's the only explanation for the reason that such words, that the thought of being... a girl for Tomura, is making his cock start to harden as he goes on. 

Dabi hears a tiny sound, a little whimper in the space between their bodies and it takes so long for him to realize that was him. He never thought he could sound like that, could feel like this when the other man has barely touched him, when he's desperate to be touched at all for the first time in his life. He must be delirious with the heat in his head to make him nod it weakly. 

Tomura gives him another scorching kiss, even though every place their skin is touching is chilled from his scales and skin, before his fingers deftly pull loose the knot on Dabi's shirt. The serpent knows what he's doing, knows how to kiss Dabi so deeply that his whole body is singing for more as his hands, his strong, large hands that make Dabi feel fragile beneath them, are able to lift him enough to gently take the fabric from around his chest before those same hands are moving over his skin. Dabi doesn't know what to do with his own, and ends up tangling his fingers in the sheets as Tomura's move across his chest. He has been made very aware that most of the other duel-species creatures that they've met are larger than him. He's known from the moment he woke in Shigaraki's den that he was so much smaller than the other man, but having him put a hand on his chest and being able to cup the entirety of the muscle in one palm makes his body flood with his arousal. He's never been particularly tall, but he was always intimidating from how he looked with his scars and the attitude that he cultivated for himself. But he's seen Tomura snap bones with barely an effort, knows that he could cave in his chest around his palm faster than Dabi could light his body on fire, and he is suddenly overwhelmed with the reality of just how large and powerful the other man is. 

And he wants him. 

Tomura proves it as his fingers rub against his nipples, his mouth dipping down to lick along his scars and the seam that cuts over his chest without an ounce of disgust or hesitation. "You're so beautiful, princess." He murmurs. "Ever since I saw you-- I was certain that you must have been a star that was plucked from the sky, you were so radiant when I found you."  

Dabi hasn't ever heard himself let out such a sound, but the wounded keen that comes from his throat is nearly as humiliating with how hard his is cock at those words. Tomura doesn't seem to think that any of this is embarrassing though, his hands moving down his waist as he kisses along his chest, his mouth replacing his fingers over one nipple, his lips rough against his skin, but the softness of his tongue and the dexterity of the two-pronged tip of it as it tugs at his piercings there making Dabi moan again. He tries to bite his lip to keep the sound inside, especially when Tomura shifts between his legs, putting the weight of his tail more firmly between them, higher along them, so that he can definitely feel Dabi's hard cock against his body, and Dabi can feel the coolness and the texture of his scales through the thin fabric. 

"Oh, princess," his voice is nearly a purr, hissing out those ‘s’ sounds in a way that has a shiver going down Dabi's spine as he feels and hears just how foreign Tomura's body is against his own. "Let me make you feel good?" 

It's so hard for him to find his tongue, and he still barely manages as he gives a weak nod. "Please, Tomura--" 

But he doesn't have to beg. Shigaraki is more than willing to move his hands down as he kisses along his stomach, until he's at his waist band. He unties that as well on either side and Dabi shivers as he moves away from him, letting the cool air of the room rush across his overheated skin as he sits up a bit. Tomura makes him slip the fabric from his legs and Dabi trembles as his eyes roam over his body so voraciously. It wasn't like this when they bathed together. Not at all. This is a look that changes the nudity to nakedness, to a prelude to the raw desire that alights every feature across Tomura's face as he presses back between his legs, hands curving over his hips and teasing his claws along the inside of Dabi's thighs. Despite the heat of his body, that light prickling sensation that comes so bluntly with the knowledge that if he wanted to, Tomura could split his skin all the way down to the artery, gooseflesh starts to prickle against his skin there. It doesn't keep his prick from aching between his legs beneath the hungry stare at Tomura is giving him. 

"Such a pretty clit, baby girl," he purrs, bringing a hand so he can carefully trail a single finger along the underside of him. Dabi has never felt himself so sensitive, never thought that being spoken to like that would have him biting his lip hard to keep another moan smothered even as the way his clit twitches shows Shigaraki how much he likes it. "Are all of the people in your world so decorated?" 

He manages to weakly shake his head. He only got the piercings because he thought the empty spots of his skin looked even worse. Because he just wanted a few pieces of metal in him that he picked for himself. 

Tomura doesn't close his hand around to stroke him, but his tail swishes as the naga leans back in to give him another kiss that makes Dabi feel like he's offered his body up as a feast for this creature. He's not sure that he would even have a chance to feel betrayed if Tomura did kill him, not when his whole body is already strung out on the anticipation of the intangible more that every touch and kiss seem to promise him. He hears wood against wood, feels the shift in the bed, and he pulls away so that he can see what the other man is doing. He brings his tail back from the edge of the bed, a corked bottle in his grip as he does. He pulls the cork out and spills the liquid inside over Dabi's skin, making him shiver from how cool the oil is as it drips along his clit. 

"Never been such a sweet little girl for anyone else," Tomura murmurs. "But have you ever touched your clit, baby? Rubbed it until you're left trembling and messy?" 

Dabi isn't sure he's going to be able to blush any hotter without actually turning into a fireball on this massive bed. But Tomura won't touch him again without an answer and he barely manages to shake his head. 

Tomura smiles at him, a look that he might have mistaken as sweet and innocent if he had given it to Dabi at any other time. "Good, let me show you your first pleasure then too, princess." He presses his tail back against Dabi's body, the muscles shifting beneath his scales even as he stays stationary above him. Dabi can't help crying out, his whole body going taut as he feels the smooth, repeating texture of Shigaraki's scales against him. The oil makes him slick and Dabi can't help rolling his hips up, trying to get even more friction. "That's it, baby girl," he purrs, his hands going to Dabi's thighs and then he rolls him so that Dabi is slumped against his body, clinging to his torso as the change in angle has his crotch pressed even tighter against Tomura's tail. He moans loudly, trying to rub himself against him. He knows that sex is supposed to be more than this-- he doesn't even know if Tomura has a dick-- but the sensation against him now makes him so desperate to hump him like he's nothing but an eager dog. 

"T-Tomura," he should figure out how to do this right. This is the only thing that has felt good for him in so long, he doesn't want to ruin it all by being so completely inadequate. 

Shig doesn't hesitate to put one of his large hands against the small of his back, making Dabi roll his hips to get more of that perfect pressure against himself, another moan tumbling off of his lips. "Come on, princess, you can feel good. Let me see how pretty you look as you rub your cute clit against my scales." 

Whatever thread of Dabi's sanity was left, snaps completely after that. He moans again and lets go. He loses himself in the slick slide, the soft texture, and the wonderful friction of the other's body beneath his. He rubs his clit against his tail the way that he's seen girls in bars rub themselves against their boyfriend's thighs when they get too drunk and horny to remember that they're in public. He lets himself chase his pleasure with moans falling off of his lips as Tomura's hands move to his ass to cup either side of him and spread him open as he drags Dabi's body in harder. He devours his lips as his tail moves again, the thickest part stays between his thighs, letting Dabi grind against him and chase that delicious friction, but the tip slithers between his spread ass. It flicks, slick with more oil against his hole, and before Dabi can feel any trepidation over it, the tip starts to push inside, rubbing around the rim of him. That movement paired with the ones of his hips, sends the pleasure across his nerves sparking even higher and he can't stop himself from moaning loudly as he starts to fuck himself on the bare inch of tail he's been given. Tomura's mouth dips to his neck, his fangs so sharp, but never breaking his skin as he devours him. 

Dabi thinks that he should probably be embarrassed when it only takes a few minutes of the movements, his hole getting more and more stretched as Tomura gives him his tail, before his thighs are shaking and his balls are going so tight. He's woken with the mess of an orgasm in his pants before, but he's never sought one out while he was awake, and as his thrusts grow erratic and frantic, Tomura catches him by the chin so that he can watch his face as Dabi falls apart. The realization that this man wants to see him enjoying himself, wants to savor every flicker of pleasure that he's sure is contorting his features, is what sends him over the edge. Dabi lets out a loud moan, eyes shutting, thighs squeezing tightly around Tomura's waist, as he pushes his hips against his roughly one more time before his balls are going so tight and his clit is twitching as it spills all over Tomura's scales. The pulsating pleasure that rushes along his length makes him dizzy as his whole body slumps so bonelessly against the other's chest, that blinding rush of endorphins making him feel like he might melt away into nothing at all. 

And then Tomura is pulling him back into another kiss, a soft hiss leaving his throat as he pushes another length of his tail inside of Dabi's hole, the muscles slacking from his pleasure. The movement has him keening, unable to make sense of just how much it is stretching him as Tomura pushes it inside. He feels one of Tomura's hands leave his skin and he looks down as the naga reaches for his pelvis, for the patch of midnight scales that Dabi flushes to see are painted white with streaks of his spend. He's not expecting to also see that there is a... seam. In Tomura's body. In the place that would have been between his legs if he had those at all. There is a thin parting that is getting wider as oil and Dabi's cum dribble onto it that is flushed as bright as blood on the inside. He watches breathlessly as Tomura doesn't use his fingertips, keeping his sharp claws away from his skin, as he instead bends his knuckles to rub along that seam, a clear fluid dripping out of him as he does so. 

"You look so cute falling apart like that for me, baby girl." The roughness in his voice makes the echoes of Dabi's pleasure sting his nerves, that coming even more sharply when Tomura moves his tail inside of him again, curling it towards Dabi's stomach and pushing it against something that makes his whole body jolt. His spine goes taut as that stinging turns into a burning as his body tries to warm back up for more, greedy for it even though his mind tells him that he's not ready yet. "And your pussy is so warm and tight," Tomura hums, his knuckles dipping into his slit and spreading it open wider so that Dabi can start to see inside of him. "Will you let me fill you up, princess? Let me put my cocks inside and fill you up so much that your tight little cunt thinks that you're swollen with my clutch?" 

Dabi whimpers, worried that his brain is not just boiled at this point, but that it's actively leaking out of his ears as smoke starts to trickle out of his seams. It's all animal instinct to have more of whatever he can get that is making him nod his head weakly as he watches Tomura's... cocks start to press out from his body. They're both thicker and longer than his own as they spill from his body, erect with the same dark coloration at their tips, getting more flushed with his blood and flesh-colored like the inner lips of his slit. He's shaped the way that Dabi expects cocks to be otherwise, and as he gets a look at him, the other man rolls Dabi onto his back again, shifting his weight and pulling his tail out from his cunt. 

His nerves fight through the haze of his body's pleasure and Dabi doesn't manage to find words or move as the other lays him back on the bed. He doesn't know if his trepidation is written across his face, or if the naga can smell his fear, but Tomura pauses too, shifting to cup his face between his palms. Dabi has always felt small against his body, but that is made all the starker now as the sheer size of this creature on top of him blocks out any light not reflected off of his ruby eyes. 

"We can stop, princess." He reassures him so gently that Dabi can't doubt the truth behind the words. 

But he wants to prove to at least one person, to the only person who has bothered to try to stick around in his life and care for him, that he can be worthy of the effort. He wants to make Tomura feel as good as he's made him feel. "Don't stop," he manages to whisper in the space between their bodies. Tomura's features soften, and then he leans back in to give him another kiss. 

It's only when Dabi's distracted by how his long hair is tickling his skin, and how sweet his mouth is against his own, that he coaxes his thighs open wider. His breath catches in the back of his throat as he feels the other man between his legs. Big, all of him is so big, but the twin cocks feel enormous as they prod against his hole. He isn't a snake. He wasn't ever really made to put something so big inside of him, but before he can lose his nerve, the slick cocks are starting to press. Dabi's breath catches in the back of his throat as it happens. 

At first it doesn't feel much different from the other's tail, Tomura easing his body into it as he keeps touching every sensitive inch of his skin, as his mouth descends on his neck again. But he gets a stronger pulse of pressure the further inside of his body that the naga sinks his cocks and weight into him. It doesn't hurt, the slickness easing his way, but by the time he's even halfway inside, Dabi is gasping for breath, so full already that it feels like there isn't room in him for the air. His whole body is starting to go so hot again too, his sore clit starting to fill for a second time as Tomura brings their bodies closer and closer until he's completely intertwined with him. Falling apart. He's falling apart around everything inside of him as he's filled up so completely. 

Dabi is seeing stars by the time Tomura is fully seated inside of him and begins to move. It's nothing like the frantic twitches of his hips that Dabi had managed as he chased his pleasure. This is slow, methodical, a shift against him again and a again that builds up a rhythm along his walls and against his clit as more of those smooth, soft scales rub against him. Tomura shows him how good it can be. Shows him how finding the right pace can heighten everything that came before and Dabi is just clawing at his skin, his throat raw from the sounds that are coming out of him as moans and wordless cries of his ecstasy are torn out of his throat. It's good, too good for him. He wasn't ever supposed to have something so good, this world and his own were constantly telling him that. But he wants it so badly. 

He clings onto Tomura's skin as the other keeps moving inside of him. He pulls him into more desperate kisses as he tries to figure out how to make his weak limbs work enough to roll into the thrusts too as his insides are stretched so wide that there is always a pressure against that place inside of him that spills liquid heat all along his nerves. He feels all of it, savors all of it. And he knows that he's going to crave it every second if he gets back home. 

But those kinds of thoughts threaten to sour the need inside of him, and Dabi lets himself focus on the way he feels as the pleasure builds, on the way that Tomura's body doesn't sweat, but his scales finally start to take on some of Dabi's overabundance of heat as they move together. He sees that his pupils are wide, sees the red of his eyes glinting as he looks down at him like... like he really would take a mate as broken and ugly as he is, and he really would love and cherish him if Dabi gave him the chance. 

He is the one who tugs Tomura back in for another kiss, his body going taut with his need again. Tighter and tighter, his muscles clenching around Tomura's cocks and making him not thrust so much as roll into his body, making sure to rub against every inch of his cunt. And then that tension snaps again. Dabi cries out as his clit twitches again, trapped entirely by Tomura's body as he makes both of their skin sticky and wet as he spills. That tightens his walls more, and that added pressure is already dragging out his second orgasm when Tomura reaches his first. Dabi feels the twitch of his cocks, hears the way that his long tail whips across the sheets in rapid succession, before he is suddenly soaked as Tomura pumps his cunt so full of his cum that even the tight seal of his cocks inside of him isn't enough to keep it all inside. it has to spill out of him again and he is left delirious and moaning as it happens. 

There is so much cum in his body that when the other angles his body up again, keeping him plugged with his cocks inside, Dabi can see that his lower stomach has expanded slightly. Tomura can’t purr, but the soft sound of delight that he makes as he brings a hand there and lets Dabi really feel how swollen his guts are with his cum, makes his pleasure clear and Dabi dizzy. He can’t be pregnant, can’t actually give Tomura a clutch of eggs, isn’t a girl, but this seems to be enough of an illusion of it to keep both of their pleasure ringing through their bodies for an extended period. 

Tomura brings him down from that high with more soft words and kisses pressed against his skin, but he lets his skin stay sticky and sour until Dabi is able to get up and go wash for himself. He can't blame the other for that. They had dinner together, he tasted his blood, he mated him. Dabi already wonders if it feels like torture to be allowed all of those things, but it would be far worse if Tomura let himself do the last thing to make a bond when he knows that Dabi won't reciprocate it. Not now. Not when he has to find a way home. Dabi is letting that sit heavily around his heart, ready to insist that the other go back to his den and not waste any more time on him, only for Tomura to immediately pull him back into the bed and wrap his whole body around Dabi's, making him feel so small, and so cherished as he's held against his chest. 

///

Tomura comes with him the next morning when they leave. Dabi leaves the seal in the mailbox outside of the Todoroki house, making sure that he doesn't see any of the people who are not his family before they go. And Tomura lets him ride on his back again as they travel. He always does. He follows him to the next city, two weeks away. And when the witch there doesn't have any way of helping them, but gives word of another, another three weeks of travel away, Tomura comes with him then too. He never asks Dabi to stay, never hesitates to keep him safe, never pushes him for sex, and alway touches him so gently when Dabi is lost in the anguish of not finding a solution to this predicament. He knows it's not fair to seek comfort in the other man's arms when things keep going wrong, but he keeps doing it, and Tomura keeps telling him that it's alright. That he's happy to have whatever relationship that he can have with him while he's still here. 

He follows him to villages further and further away. He teaches Dabi how to forage, how to tell when there are predators around, and tells him more about the world that he is in now. The cities are bogged down, as he sees as they travel between ones months away from Tomura's burrow, with the same kinds of problems as in his world, even without heroes in play. But things are better here in some aspects because even though the wilds are brutal, people can leave and try to make their way there instead of being trapped the way so many are in his home. The people in the wild aren't villains, but they're the ones who have seen what the cities have to offer and have decided that it wasn't better than the potential of the violence of nature itself. 

The city they're at now is the second largest they've been to, but that still means there have only been five witches for them to speak to. Five, and he has met with every single one as Tomura went to barter for more supplies in case they're sent somewhere new. 

"I've never heard of magic that could cross the space between worlds." It's a refrain that he has come to know well in the past five months of travel. "But there is another witch--" Dabi takes down the name of the city, charting it on the map they bought at the biggest city that they've visited so far. Five months so far. He's been working towards his revenge for eight years, and he tries to tell himself that this is fine. That he can make this happen just like he always worked to make that. But when he goes back to the inn that they're staying at and finds Shigaraki scratching at his neck, a pensive expression on his face, it feels much harder and more hopeless than it did even just half an hour before. 

"Dabi," 

"What's wrong? Were prices bad?" They don't have unlimited funds, but different cities have different rules when it comes to what they accept for trade. This city, with a far larger percent of predators, is more willing to trade with meat. Tomura can usually eat an entire person when he hunts, unless he takes down a particularly large species like a deer, moose, or bear. But when that happens, they butcher whatever he can't eat and Dabi dries the meat into strips of jerky. He still won't eat them, but Tomura can if for some reason he can't go hunting again in a week or two once that meal has finished digesting. He hoped that the jerky would go over well enough here for trade, but things are so subjective from place to place. 

"No, I got everything for our next trip but... I need to go back to my den." 

Dabi has been waiting for those words. For Tomura to finally wise up and realise that he isn't worth all of the trouble that he's caused him. He immediately bites back any bitterness, any sorrow, or other wealth of emotion that he feels building inside of himself. He has been expecting to be abandoned. He isn't allowed to be sad now that it's actually, finally, happening. "Okay, no problem. Thanks for coming so--" Tomura cuts him off, moving into his space and cupping his cheeks in his palms, forcing him to meet his eyes, his own serious and somber. 

"Dabi," and he says his name sometimes the same way he calls him 'firefly', the same way he talks about mates and bonds, and that really only makes the ache in his chest worse. "During the winter, nagas enter a state called brumation. It's similar to hibernation, but we don't sleep completely, we just become much less active to conserve our strength for the coming spring when hunting will be better. I'm not leaving you because I want to be away-- but I won't have the strength to travel. I have to go home to rest." His hand shifts, knuckles brushing against his cheek. "You are more than welcome to come back to my den for the winter, and in the spring, I will take you wherever you need to go to get you home." He promises. "But I understand if that's too long for you to wait for any other possible leads. I know that you have a purpose that you want to go back to and I would never begrudge you that." 

There is too much in his chest, too much in his head. He always feels like there is too much happening to him when it comes to existing in this world. So he forces himself to latch onto one thing: Tomura is not abandoning him. He would stay with him, would keep helping him, if he could. But this is something that is in his nature and beyond his control. Dabi thinks he can travel on his own now, but he knows that he is nowhere near as fast as the naga, and that his senses are dull enough that he could be in far greater danger trying to travel for three months alone than he would be waiting. He already isn't making much progress. But he's spoken to more witches now. Maybe they will have more chatter as people travel for winter holidays, if there are any. 

"Okay, we can go back to your den. Do you need anything to prepare? Do you eat while you're in brumation?" 

The smile that splits Tomura's features before he leans down to press a kiss to Dabi's forehead helps to warm him a bit more than he thought could ever happen before. He tries to let that burn away the shadows lingering around his heart. 

///

They get more supplies, different supplies, so that they can go back to the den and Dabi will be able to live relatively comfortably throughout the winter months. Tomura will mostly be staying deep in the den, the space filled with dried leaves and hay so that it holds onto as much warmth as it can, though Dabi's body lingering in the space will also help keep his companion comfortable, especially when they're sleeping. Tomura won't really eat for three months, but Dabi will, and he gets a couple of big bags of rice that he'll be able to cook along with dried fish and tofu. When the dried things run out, he'll be able to melt the stream and ice fish. He does his best to focus on the practicality of this all, and to that end, he thinks that Shigaraki isn't too worried about him. But when they actually do get back to the den and they finish making the space right for him, Tomura slithers deep into the den and stays there, sleeping most days.

And then Dabi is alone. 

It's not real solitude, because Tomura shifts and pulls him close whenever he comes into the den. He presses his lips to his temples and makes sure that he doesn't need anything, and Dabi curls into his chest and warms his body enough that Tomura is able to focus for longer and not leave him alone with his thoughts. But Dabi can't stay in his arms all day every day, and the hours he spends in the snow makes him so... aware of the heavy cold and thick silence that has fallen over the entire forest. He walks around. There are other creatures out, he sees the evidence of them through the tracks in the snow, but the snow crunches loudly under every step, and he feels like being here has given him an extra sense that keeps him aware when he's being hunted. 

He knows that he's alone when he goes to the large crater, cleared of trees, with snow sloping in on the ground that he shattered when he landed, and stands at the edge of it for a few minutes. There are no tracks here at all, as if all of the other creatures who call this forest home could also sense the strangeness of this occurrence and decided that they would be better off not coming near. Dabi's footprints are the only ones that crack the snow here as he walks down to the cauldron. Maybe it's desperation, maybe it's just stupidity, but Dabi ignores the cold of the snow seeping into the clothes that they bought for him at one of the other villages that had to replace his villain gear when the travel through the untamed wilds wore it down far faster than sneaking through Japan would have. He lays in the snow and looks up at the gray haze of the sky above and a pain so sharp and keen goes aching through him that it takes the breath from his lungs in an automatic sob. 

Years. He spent so many years preparing for the revenge that the League of Villains was supposed to give him. He was so ready to finally reveal himself, to show the world that Enji Todoroki wasn't worthy of the title of hero. He was ready to kill him. He was... ready for this all to be over. But the horses he hitched himself to got him hurt, got him sent here. He's not even sure if there is a person in this entire world who has the magic to send him home. Dabi knows how to be patient, how to bide his time and work to get closer to his goals. But he already waited eight years and his own world isn't waiting for him now. The League is probably going on, maybe the Dabi from here is still with them, though if he doesn't have a quirk anymore, then he won't be of much use to them. He won't know to keep his mouth shut about his family and maybe the Shigaraki that was his boss will think he's too much of a liability. Maybe he'll be dead and if Dabi can ever get home, he'll sentence his Tomura to a life without a mate because all that comes back is dust. 

It's a horrible tangled mess inside of him as he lays on the ground, like he did that very first day, blood slipping over his skin. He can look and search for the rest of his life. Until Tomura really does grow tired of this, or they make a bad call while traveling and get killed, or Dabi dies because he's still more fragile than anyone else in this world because he doesn't have the animalistic traits that make the natives so much faster and stronger than him. He could search the entire globe and still never find what he's looking for. And he knows, even if the other version of him is searching for someone to reverse this too, the chances of either of them finding it are slim to none. They might never get to go home. They probably won't. 

Letting that thought ring through his body has him letting out a cry of anguish, of fury, his quirk racing up to the surface of his skin and pouring out across the crater again, sending a cascade of frigid water sloping back down into the crater and drenching him again as that rage gives way. He could fall to despair or he can find some new determination. He has only ever been able to live his life through cultivating the latter and he pushes himself up, his body soaked, but his blood so hot under his skin that he can't feel the chill as he goes straight back to the den. 

His cry must have been loud enough to rouse Tomura, because he is trying to get himself out of the den, an arm pressed against the wall to try and keep him upright through his exhaustion. 

"Dabi-- I heard you-- are you--" Dabi doesn't let him finish, going over to their supplies. It's easy to snatch up the cup he made for himself and crack it through their basin of water that he melts every morning. He plunges it inside and takes half of the liquid and a scrap of fabric before he moves right in front of the serpent. Tomura sputters and hisses as Dabi throws the contents of the cup against his chest, frigid, he's certain. But he starts to wipe it away quickly, moving in before Tomura can fully recoil. "Dabi!" It's a little scandalized, but he doesn't care. He isn't getting home. He's not ever going to get the revenge that he suffered for all of his life. He was brought into this world, into every world, apparently, to suffer. But he is going to hold onto the one thing that he can that has made him feel good. To the one person who has cherished him, cared for him, loved him even though he’s never used that word before. There is nothing else that could explain why someone would go to the ends of the world for him of all people. 

He presses the cloth into Tomura's hand as he pulls loose the fastenings of his own shirt, not caring that the cold is making his skin and quirk clash terribly. He takes his coat and shirt off, and then he catches Tomura's wrist and he brings the cloth up to his face so that he can get rid of the tears still on his cheeks. He's tired of the sorrow, tired of crying over how unfair the world has been. No. He's ready to move past this. 

"Dabi, what's going on? What's wrong?" Tomura drops the rag to put his hand on his cheek instead, trying to pull him to a stop and make him slow down. But Dabi knows if he does, then the reality of never getting what he's worked for for years will tear him apart. He can't do it. He needs something else to replace that if he doesn't want to ignite again. 

He twists away, going to their food stores and pulls out a chunk of deep red jerky. Not fish. He knows that, knows that it's something they hunted, and that, maybe, makes it more special than the big meal they had together when they were actually in the bonding room. He hears Tomura move over to him, and he turns back around, pressing himself into the other's chest, trying to get his head catching up to where Dabi is at by trying to saturate his body with heat without actually slipping over the edge and burning them both to a crisp. Tomura opens his mouth to speak and Dabi brings the jerky to his lips, watching as the tiredness starts to fade away from his lover's eyes as he takes in what Dabi is trying to offer him. 

He sees that recognition come in, the joy immediately chased away as he puts his hand over his own, his voice far too gentle when he asks, "What about going home?" 

Dabi's whole chest feels shattered when he all but begs, "Can't this be it?" 

Tomura tears off a chunk of the meat, swallowing it without chewing the way he does with so much of his food, before he guides the piece to Dabi's mouth. He's avoided this for months, but this is normal here. And if he's going to stay, to make a home with Tomura, he is not going to make their lives any harder. He takes a bite of the jerky, chewing quickly, not recognizing the flavor as anything other than meat that is gamier than the beef jerky he's had before. It doesn't matter anyway, because he made sure to take a small enough bite he wouldn't be chewing it forever, able to swallow it away in seconds so that Tomura can curl his hand around the back of Dabi's neck as he pulls him in to kiss him as deeply, as passionately, as he always had, holding onto him a little tighter though because he doesn't have to be scared that he'll try to bolt if he is pinned down this time. Dabi throws himself into the kiss just as recklessly, his teeth still too blunt and entirely human compared to the other man's but he doesn't care. They're still sharp enough for him to catch his lower lip between them and bite. 

Tomura's blood bursts across his tongue and the naga wraps both arms around him. Dabi's twine around his neck, pushing into him as the larger creature lifts him, and wrapping his legs around his waist so that he can be carried easily. His lover takes him deeper into the den, to the stones that Dabi made sure were warm for his mate when he left the den earlier, and among the soft grasses and leaves that they selected to make sure that Dabi could be more comfortable. He laps up the blood on Tomura's lip, showing him as many ways as he can how much he wants this. How, if he's trapped in another world that didn't even want him in the first place, he wants to belong to the only creature who has ever wanted to have him too. 

Tomura slithers into their bed and lays him onto his back, his weight over him and deliciously smothering. "My mate," His lover murmurs, his eyes bright with his adoration and love. 

"Make me your bride," he begs breathlessly. He wants it to be real. Wants to show Tomura that he's not going to keep running towards a future that doesn't have him in it anymore. 

The words have his lover letting out a growl. Dabi never gave what he would like in bed any consideration before Tomura, because he thought he would die without his body ever knowing that kind of pleasure. But he likes to be his, likes to have him call him delicate and lovely. Likes it when he murmurs, "Forever, princess. Going to spend all winter having a honeymoon with my beautiful bride." He leans in, leans down, his mouth against his neck, "let me taste that blush I have admired for so many months." 

Dabi doesn't have words left, but he manages to tangle his hands in Tomura's long hair, a weak nod as his whole body warms with his arousal. Tomura's breath is cool against his overheated skin, but his teeth are so sharp as they sink into his neck that he doesn't even feel the ache of them for a moment. But when the pain does come, it floods his veins with pleasure so singular and unlike anything that he's ever known that he isn't certain that he'll be able to hold onto any of this at all. He moans loudly, his arms dropping away from Tomura's neck because he needs to kick off his boots, needs to tug the laces of his pants open, needs to have his mate's cocks inside of his body as quickly as he's allowed to get them. 

Tomura pulls his teeth from his neck, lapping up the blood as he hears his tail swish through their den to find their oil as his hands help to strip Dabi bare. "Your blood is so sweet, princess." He murmurs as he laps up the drops that spill over his skin as Dabi's clothes are tossed aside. 

"Tomura," he is breathless from how much he wants this to be more and faster. He needs to know that this is forever. Needs this to replace every rotten thing inside of him that he had before because it was all he thought he would ever be allowed to hold onto. He wants to cling to Tomura as tightly as he has his revenge, wants to focus on making sure that whatever life they decide to have, that he has been worth all of the patience, kindness, and compassion that Tomura put in to have Dabi get to this point. He wants to be his mate and not have the naga ever think that he'll be running away to some distant possibility of abandoning him ever again. His hand goes down to the place where he knows that his mate's body will open up for him, and he can't help the delighted sound that he makes when he feels the warm wetness that is already starting to drip out of him, his arousal so high that his sheath is already starting to open. Just being able to feel how badly his mate wants him has Dabi moaning in turn, his clit swelling rapidly too as he spreads his legs wider to show his eagerness. 

Tomura kisses him again, their blood mixing between their lips the same way it is going to mix in their bodies, as his tail moves up between Dabi's legs, slick with oil. He moans, grinding down against him, desperate for that because it's a necessary prelude to what he really wants. "I'm going to give you the world, love." Tomura promises him as the tip circles him only enough to get him wet before he starts to push inside. "I'm going to give you everything," His tail pushes inside as he presses their pelvises tighter together, making Dabi cry out, his hips jerking up instinctively, as his slick, soft scales cup his clit and rub against him. It's not often that Tomura lets him grind against his sheath, the lips incredibly soft and sensitive, but the sensation making his cocks ache as they can't press out the way they want to if there is something blocking his entrance. "Going to make sure that you only regret that you weren't born in this world because that was years that we went without meeting." 

The words shake loose the last bits or agony that have been sitting around his heart. He can't have the future he thought he was racing towards back. It's just not possible for him anymore. But he can have this. He can have Tomura loving him. Can have their soft, warm den, and the comfort of knowing that someone will always have his back and take care of him when he needs it. That he trusts him to do the same. 

Dabi didn't think that love was something he would be allowed to have either. But he thinks this has to be the thing that is rushing heat through his whole body as he reaches for the other again, his nails scraping along his back, as he pulls his body tighter against his own and begs, "Please, please, please!" Because he doesn't have any other words to tell the other man how much he wants to be full of him and joined together in a way that this world will never be able to take away. He begs and Tomura kisses him again, only fucking him open enough on his tail to make sure that his insides are warm and wet for him, before he pulls back. His hands move over Dabi's body, touching him everywhere that makes his body sing with pleasure, as he shifts so that his cocks can push out into the open air. They've fucked so many times since the first. Tomura has always been so attentive to him, but there is a franticness to their movements now, a passion that Dabi is only just realizing was missing before. A barrier that he had put up between them to keep himself from sinking into what Tomura was offering him. Love. Everything. He was offering him a future.

Tomura doesn't stop when Dabi pulls him in to get another kiss, his mouth desperate against his mate's as he pushes between his legs. Dabi gasps, the pressure of both of his cocks always so deliciously large as they stretch him open. He just pushes in, and in, and in, until Dabi is seeing stars as his arousal is so high from feeling the way that they're joined together forever now, that it takes him over the edge. If Tomura were anyone else, he thinks that he might be embarrassed about how easily that did it for him, but his lover lets out a low rumble of approval before his lips are peppering kisses all over his face as he starts to grind into his body again and again, loosening his muscles further so that he'll accept the thrusts when they work up to that point. Even that, as Dabi's orgasm washes through him, is enough to have him gasping and seeing stars.

"Gorgeous, princess, fuck," his voice is deeper with his own arousal, making him slip and hiss on the syllabate sounds in his words more than he ever does normally. "Love to watch you fall apart on my cocks, baby girl." He rolls his hips again and Dabi nearly sobs because his whole body goes even tighter with pleasure, his legs twitching around where they have been spread wide by Tomura's tail. His lover reaches a hand between their bodies and cups his much larger palm over him, his hand able to completely cover his sticky clit. His nerves squeal with oversensitivity, but he can't escape the touch. Tomura is just licking at his neck again, rolling his hips into his again as he sets them to a harder pace that leaves him seeing more stars. "Show me it again, princess. Let me see how good I can make my pretty bride feel." 

The words, the feeling of his insides stretched as far as they can go, the friction of Tomura's palm against him, has him keening as his clit is forced to stay hard even though his body wants to soften. He can't, not with his mate trying to push every inch of pleasure into his body that he can possibly feel. Dabi whimpers, but he manages to rock his hips up into his lover again. He wants it. Wants to be his, wants to let this pleasure take away every bitter, hurt thing that he's clung to for years. He wants to let Tomura fill up those spaces inside of him with his love, and if the only physical way he can have it is by feeling his cocks spill his cum deep inside of him, then that will be more than enough. 

"I love you," the words are gasped, more a desperate promise than a declaration. He wasn't made for love, but for Tomura? He'll remake himself to give him that every day for the rest of their lives. It's the least he can do when the other man has given it to him for months now even knowing Dabi might leave him, that he might have stolen away his only chance to have a mate after losing everyone else in his life that was ever important to him. 

Tomura kisses him again, the movements slowing, but dragging against his insides all the more tantalizingly. "I love you, firefly. My bride, my bonded, my mate, I'll tear down this world to make it perfect for you." 

Dabi shakes his head weakly, pulling him in tighter. He doesn't need Tomura to change anything about this. About his lifestyle, about the nature of the world around them. Dabi's world never wanted him, he doesn't need to make this world more like that. Not when he has a chance to be with Tomura and make all of this better than what it was when he was there. He can be better, can be happier. They can do that together just as they are. "Just like this," he begs. 

And Tomura proves that even across worlds, they were made for each other, because he doesn't need any clarification before he kisses him again so sweetly Dabi's heart aches as he continues to make love to him.  

By the time he's full of his cum, his clit is sore and aching from the three orgasms he's dragged out of him, and for the first time in all of these months, Tomura uses the strength the heat generated between their bodies has given him, and he goes and gets water, soap, and the washcloths, and then he spends a careful hour, cleaning away any drop of filth that clings to Dabi's skin, pressing kisses to each scar and seam with a reverence that has Dabi crying again. Tomura cleans up those tears too, and when he curls around Dabi's body when it's time for them to get settled back in the nest, Dabi feels like he's finally been allowed to come home. 

///

It's with a healing poultice on his neck that he sits outside the next afternoon and he turns on his phone. He doesn't know when the battery will not only die, but rot, but he doesn't have to keep it inside of the device for what he wants it for. He uses what's left of the power to type up a message. He writes down who he was, what he suffered, everything that Enji did to him and the rest of his family before he burned to death. He writes about the League and how they were a mess of fuck-ups who got him sent to another world and probably killed his only way back home. He writes that if they want evidence of his claims, then a DNA test against his relatives will prove the truth of it all. And he writes... that he's only making this brief memoir because he doesn't know if he'll magically poof back into his own world when he dies. It doesn't seem likely, but it is possible and he wanted a record of this all. He wanted someone to know that he ended up in a new world, that he gave up on getting home because quirks are magic here and witches are few in number. He wanted some record of the fact that he chose to be happy with this world's version of Tomura Shigaraki who is a far cry from the one he met that tried to kill him. He wants it all written down so he can take the battery back out of his phone and tuck the device back into his belt pouch, and let it sink to the bottom, not to be touched again. 

He writes it all so he can disown it and go back to the reality that he wants to live in so badly now, before he goes back into the den, immediately letting his own heart warm as his sleeping mate reaches for his body instinctively the moment he strays close enough. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed please consider leaving a comment/ask. If you'd like to get a commission, consider checking out my guidelines at the bottom of my pinned post!

[gunsatthaphan]

MarkTong got me, JossGawin got me, MGB got me, Tonkla and Nakan got me, this show is my new personalty, what tf is happening? I wasn't really sold til ep5 and now this ep!!! Like, fkin how? I was writing on MDL how the show was mid but now I'm highkey obessessed with it, it's the best thing ever??? 😭😭😭😭😭 I love it so much, I love them so much!

anon you speak my mind 😭

Who knew I would ever come to love a vampire show with cheeky jokes, tight speedos and mid CGI but here I am vibrating every Wednesday lmao I’m really getting more obsessed with this shit every week 😭 It’s still getting a lot of hate for multiple reasons so I was hesitant at first but idc anymore because I won’t pretend like they don’t own my entire ass atp lmao.

I love seeing the upward curve of the show, I’m so enchanted by joss and gawin’s chemistry, way more than I thought I would be and more than I thought they were even capable of lol. The cast in general is A+, they’re a very harmonious group imo and the characters are all on point, Mark and Tong are excellent, Tonkla is a darling and Mond as Nakan is the galaxy brain move of the century, same goes for Um as Thara. That's vamp clan casting done right.

10/10 cast, 10/10 characters, 10/10 humor, 10/10 chemistry, 10/10 visuals. What more do you want. Gonna tell my kids this was the real Twilight.

xxx

[toxicrelief]

Crawling Back to You

Chapter seven

Synopsis: Rex and Rudy have come together to theorize about your real reason for joining the team. But none of that matters, because now you're standing in Rex's room, alone, with a bottle, asking for forgiveness.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Chapter: 7/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: Alcohol, Mild Description of Wounds

Note: I have a love-hate relationship with Rex chapters. But they are good for plot and I love seeing a man confused.

“What is that?” Rudy’s gaze sweeps over Rex’s torso.

“The new kid just did this to me. One punch.” Rex admitted sourly, his eyes following Rudy as he walked over to his robot counterpart.

“Is that the only hit she landed?”

“…no,” Rex responded slowly. How incompetent was he coming across right now? It was suddenly very apparent to him that he just got his ass beat by the newbie.

“Interesting.” Rudy put a hand to his chin, turning as one of his robots began to scan Rex. “So, she can control it. Whatever it is.”

“Do you think it is enough?” Re questioned, lowering his shirt with delicate precision. The shock was wearing off and all he could think about was the heavy throbbing and how every move hurt like hell.

“No.”

“Seriously?”

“Killdeer landing that hard of a hit after admitting to having minimal practice is good evidence that she is capable of something beyond healing, but it is nowhere near concrete enough substantiation to bring up to the team.” Rudy began to type furiously on the computer that resided nearby. Pictures of Rex’s wound flash by on the screen, leaving Rex with a weird feeling after not seeing the camera. He eyed the motionless robot exoskeleton but stood up to read over Rudy’s shoulder.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Rex finally said, he was more than happy to spy on and report findings about the girl, but to what end? The wound he was sporting already felt like plenty of evidence to get her kicked to him. But the more time he spent with her the less passion he managed to evoke at the idea of her absence. He didn’t like her when she first arrived, but he didn’t like Monster Girl either. She ended up being a pretty good addition and he even respected her. Why was he having such a hard time swallowing that Killdeer might be just as worthy as the rest of them?

He scoffed to himself at the intrusion of the thought. She had never even been in combat before yesterday. There was no way she was nearly as prepared as anyone on this team. Minus Shapesmith, but no one really knew what was going on there. Is no one looking further into that whole situation still? Now that Rex thought about it, maybe he was getting too distracted by you to think about someone who was just as much of a threat and much more prominent on the team.

“I’m not sure.” Rudy shrugged. “I am close to getting access of footage that I think should reveal something. So far all I have been able to find out is that she has excessive records related to hospital visits, but she never stays more than a day. Hypochondriac maybe.”

“She doesn’t seem like the kind.” Rex stated flatly even though he was by no means an expert in this area.

“It is a long shot, but my running theory right now is that she can both heal new injuries and bring back old ones.” Rudy turned to Rex, his computer dimming as soon as he did so. “Have you ever been injured that badly in a fight in that exact region?”

Rex thought for a moment. He had been in a lot of fights, and it was very difficult to say. In fact, Rex was not sure there was a single part of his body that had gone untouched through all his years of combat. So…probably?

“I think so?” Rex pursed his lips trying to think about it more fully.

“It is just a running theory.” Rudy reiterated.

Rex could hardly focus on the conversation at this point. The pain was only amplifying and with every moment he spent upright he was starting to convince himself he was going to retch.

“Well let me know if you learn anymore… I’m going to go lay down or…some shit.” Rex did not wait for a response before trudging towards the exit of the room. His feet dragging slightly on the hard metal floor.

It was a blur. He could hardly remember making it up the elevator and into his room. But now he was lying down, his back straight against the mattress and his gaze on the ceiling. As long as he did not move it was not so bad. The biggest problem, at the moment, was he had to move to breathe. So, with every breath, a sharp pain ran through his chest.

He should have let her heal it. He sighed lightly, sending another stabbing pain through him. This shouldn’t take too long to heal right? The look on her face once she saw it kept playing through his mind. Either she was a phenomenal actress, or she really was completely dumbfounded at what she had done.

He laid for a minute just running over secret intentions she might have. Theories coursing through his pain-addled mind. But no matter how much rationalizing he did he still came back to her shock. The genuine apology she attempted to give him. It just all didn’t make sense.

__

If he thought he was in pain last night, then he must be in a living hell today. Upon sitting up he immediately knew he was not doing anything today. Rudy must have informed someone Rex was going to be out of commission today because it was at least four hours after when he was meant to be in the training room, and no one was coming to collect him. That was until he heard the first knock.

Rest time’s over. Rex sat up, scooting to the edge of his bed, with full intentions of pretending he had been up for hours to whoever was at the door.

Probably Immortal.

He groaned in annoyance, the end of it forced out of his lungs as a ripple of hurt ran through him. He put his head in his hands for a moment, now very aware of a headache forming behind his eyes.

Another knock.

Oh god.

“One day off dickhead!” So much for pretending to have been up. Either way, he hoped Immortal would just fuck off. Go hide in some backroom with Kate like a bunch of horny teenagers. Gross.

The door opened and he didn’t immediately look up. His thumbs digging lightly into his eyelids, trying to relieve a bit of the pressure from the oncoming migraine. Usually by now Immortal would have started to lecture him for not taking the Guardians seriously, fooling around when he had a ‘God-given duty’ or something like that. That sounds like something he’d say.

Rex didn’t really listen when the Immortal spoke.

But it was quiet, with no lecture and no feeling of judgment. The silence felt loaded, tense.

“I said-!” Rex started to snarl, turning his gaze directly towards the perpetrator but the words died in his mouth. “Oh shit.”

“Hi.” She said with an awkward smile.

Rex’s mind went completely blank, he was so prepared for an argument over failing to fulfill his daily tasks that he was now not sure now what to say. His eyes trailed over her body down to her hands that were holding a bottle in front of her.

A better view than he would have had if it had been Immortal.

“Hi.” Hi!? That it!? He squinted slightly at his nonresponse. Why was she here?

“I feel really bad about yesterday and I don’t want it to be a whole thing.” Ouch. Glad she’s so broken up about it. Guess she wasn’t as shocked as he had thought she was. If he was feeling more himself maybe he would tell her to get out. Leave. Begone. All tempting, but she was holding liquor. And maybe he wanted to see her. He was still convinced this might be a side effect of her powers. Maybe a kind of mind control.

“A whole thing?” He raises an eyebrow and leans back. She rolls her eyes but closes the door behind her. Was she making a move on him? He sits up a little taller, his mind running once again.

No… Right?

Girl comes to your room alone. With drinks. And a very awkward demeanor about her.

“That’s not what I meant.” She says to his previous question, holding out the bottle to him.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” He smirks, looking her right in the eye. Her slight smile immediately dries up. Damn it. Not getting laid.

“I’m saying sorry.”

“You said that already.” He tilts his head slightly, still analyzing her face.

“I know.”

“Multiple times.”

“I know.”

“I said to leave it be.”

“I know.”

He swept his gaze over his room for a second as if checking it was indeed just the two of them.

“Yet here you are, alone in my room, offering me a drink?” He grins, very obviously trying to drop hints.

“Don’t let it go to your head, it’s cheap.” She says dryly, practically dropping the bottle in his hands. He sighed while turning it over in his hand. Disappointing. Kate folded fairly quickly to his charms, why did it seem to have close to no effect here? The brand he recognized though, and it was not that cheap. Promising. Maybe she was secretly interested. Or he was making a complete ass of himself, either way. There was a crinkled yellow bow tied to it, it was fraying at the ends and looked extremely manhandled.

“Nice bow.”

“Thanks, it cost extra.”

Rex looked up from the sad-looking ribbon and watched her as she quickly took an interest in different things around the room. Maybe he should have cleaned up a little. She stopped in front of pictures he had haphazardly taped to the wall. Eve had sent them to him after their breakup and one night after drinking a bit too much he decided the walls were too empty.

She paused looking at a picture of him and Eve. A drink sounds pretty good right now, and that migraine was really starting to set in. After getting the bottle open, he took a long swig. “So… was there anything else you wanted?”

She briskly turned around, her eyes immediately landing on the bottle. He felt a little uncomfortable now, what time was it? Too early to drink?

“I-”

Rex straightened up slightly and immediately felt the searing pain in his chest he had been able to forget about for a few minutes.

“I want to fix that.” Oh, fuck off.

“No.”

“Why?”

How about I don’t need your damn sympathy! He gave her an annoyed glance, but he was already considering it.

“How do I know you’re not going to make it worse? You did the fuckin’ thing in the first place.” He grumbled, knowing it was a pretty weak argument, but he felt the need to put up a fight. Pride motivated probably.

She takes a few steps forward, obvious annoyance radiating off of her. “Rex, be serious for five seconds, I was brought on as a healer. Why not let me do my one purpose huh?”

“One purpose my balls.” Probably shouldn’t have said that. Rudy wouldn’t be happy to know he was being overtly suspicious of her. Or maybe it would be more suspicious to not act suspicious of her?

“Very mature.”

“Look, I just don’t want it okay? Back off.” He grits his teeth, but his resolve is quickly giving.

“It obviously hurts; you’ve been in your room all day-”

“No I haven’t who said that?” He all of a sudden felt very self-conscious at what her perception of him must be.

“Rae.”

“Ugh.” They seemed to be getting very buddy-buddy…

Suddenly she’s right in front of him, a look of determination on her face. She’s very close and he must look up to maintain eye contact.

His mind is blank again.

“Let me help you and I’ll leave, you won’t have to hear from me until the next time Cecil makes me come to Headquarters. Don’t let me help you and I’ll be back every day, and I’m taking that with me.”

Dilemma. If she came every day, then she might do something that Rex could relay back to Rudy. And…he’d get to see her every day. Not that that is something he wants. Definitely not.

But it also really hurts, and if it’s healed then he can get back into actual work.

“Every day?” He says with a sigh, not looking her in the eyes.

She nods and he looks away completely. Even just turning his head sent a shiver down his spine. Yeah, this needed to go.

“Will it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Are you lying?” He turns back to look at her again, examining her eyes.

“A little.” Of course.

He groans in annoyance and nods, but his expression completely turns to confusion as she starts to pull up a chair. Immediately he’s trying to stop her.

“Woah, can’t you just heal it from over there or some shit?”

“No.”

“No, you can’t or no you won’t?”

“I have to have direct contact with the skin.” Naturally. He bites at the inside of his lip, thinking. This was bound to be very uncomfortable. Sitting directly in front of him, after rejecting several advances. Maybe he could deal with the pain.

But to another point, if she can only heal with direct contact. Does that work the same way with the retrieval of old wounds? If Rudy’s theory was correct, then she was lying about needing direct contact. She had not needed it when bestowing the bruise on him yesterday. She had definitely landed the blow against his shirt, not directly to his skin. But if she was telling the truth, Rudy was wrong. It would be impossible for her to have enough connection.

“Are you just trying to get me to take my shirt off?” Last ditch effort. The look she is giving him immediately shuts that down and he sighs. Hopefully this doesn’t take long. “Fine. Jeez”

She positions the chair right between his legs, and he takes another swig of the bottle before setting it down. If she was anyone else, he’d probably find this hot. After managing to get the tank off, Killdeer moved closer, he didn’t even know she could scoot the chair any closer. Her eyes were focused, determined on the bruise. He could admit this did not happen often, even when he was sleeping with someone, they were not looking at him with this much scrutiny. Rex leaned back on his arms, trying to make a bit of space between them. Their eyes met for a moment and then she was immediately back to work. Her hand gingerly pressed against his chest.

His nerve endings were not working optimally from the injury, but he could feel her.

Her hand was cool, soothing, distracting. Then the healing process actually started. It felt like she was trying to pull his heart through his chest. It was a duller pain.

“The fuck?” There’s no way she is actually pulling his heart out right? That was fairly unlikely?

“I warned you.”

“Hardly!” He snapped back.

“You should feel what it’s like with a broken bone, it’s so much weirder.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Why are you assuming I’m trying to make you feel better?”

She has a small smile on her face. So, to some extent she must have been enjoying this, which filled Rex with indignance. But he was immediately distracted, after a few moments the pain was no longer as intense. There were sharp pains here and there, but it was nothing compared to what he had just felt. It felt like his senses were elevated almost. He felt…relief. That layer of exhaustion, the migraine, random aches from various injuries over the years, he couldn’t feel any of it. All he could feel was the cool of her hand splayed across his chest.

That feeling he felt the other night during drinks was back again to haunt him. He suddenly found he didn’t want to do anything but watch her. The way her brow pinched in concentration, the way her eyes moved slightly as she was obviously deep in thought. For a moment Rex feels like the biggest piece of shit. Was he really content trying to get her removed from the Guardians? She hadn’t done anything to him. Well, nothing she could control.

“Why do you hate me?”

She didn’t even look up, just kept her focus on her work.

“Who said I hated you, Joy?” He said it softly, he knew why she thought he hated her. And maybe he did sometimes.

“You’ve been rude to me since the day we met. You don’t even call me by my real name.” She glanced up but Rex didn’t look away immediately. She looked genuinely hurt.

Rudy’s suspicions flashed in his mind, grounding him for a moment. He tore his gaze away, reaching down to grab the bottle and take another drink.

“You don’t deserve to be on the Guardians.” Every time he said it, he meant it less, but at this point, he did not know what else to say.

“And that’s it?” She says with a tone of incredulity in her voice. “Something completely out of my control and you use that to hate me?”

“You could tell Cecil you don’t want to be a part of it-” He doesn’t finish, her gaze snapped back to her hand. A look of anger ghosting over her features rather than the semi-peaceful look of concentration.

Several moments pass in silence and Rex debates what to say. He doesn’t owe her anything. He really doesn’t. At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

“I don’t hate you.” He couldn’t believe he said it as soon as it left his lips. But it didn’t seem to matter. If she heard she showed no sign of it. All his mind could concentrate on was the fact she was touching him. And how much he didn’t want her to leave. She could yell at him, bruise him again, he didn’t care. For some reason, he didn’t want her to leave.

And then she was done. He could feel it. Even still, she hesitated. Her hand did not immediately leave his skin, slowly tracing a small line. Rex blinked a few times, letting out a quiet exhale. In what felt like an instant she was standing and putting the chair back.

As soon as her hand was gone the exhaustion returned. He ran a hand over his chest, noting how it was back to normal.

“I don’t hate you.” He repeats again, suddenly desperate for her to know.

She pauses at the door, an unreadable look on her face. As she’s closing it she says:

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

__

Rex is in the training area, it’s very late. But after a day of laying in bed he suddenly has a lot of energy. With each punch he is landing on the boxing bag his frustration is rising. He wasn’t sure when Killdeer would be back, but it was bound to be a few days at least.

The sound of the door opening broke his concentration, and he turned his head suddenly to the source.

“Oh god.” He muttered grabbing his towel to dry his face.

“You don’t own the place. Stop making it weird.” Kate said with annoyance, making her way over to a different machine.

“I’ll stop making it weird when it stops being weird. Which it won’t, ‘cause Immortal is like a million years old.” He retorts.

She rolls her eyes, as one of her duplicates grabs her weights to put on the barbell bar. “Oh please, because you’re so hurt about it. I saw the new girl waiting outside your door with that wine bottle or whatever it was. You obviously didn’t have much trouble finding someone else so let me be.”

“What?” Rex bristled, maybe a little more than he should have. “Nothing was happening.”

“Sure, Rex. Just like nothing was happening when Eve found us in the showers.” She gave him an incredulous look. “I’m honestly not surprised though. You can’t see anyone without trying to get in their pants.”

Rex glared at her but didn’t say anything, returning his attention back to the punching bag.

“I’m just surprised she’s so easy. Didn’t quite peg her as the type but I guess you can never really know huh.”

“Knock it off, Kate. We didn’t do anything.” Usually, he would take this opportunity to pretend he just had that good of game. But it was irking him that Kate felt so comfortable as to say something like this. At least he said shit about Killdeer to her face.

“Then why was she at your door?”

“You ever think she might just be being friendly?”

“You don’t do friendly Rex. You’re only nice to something if you think you can fuck it.”

“Fuck you.” Rex grits his teeth.

“You did.” She sighs before flashing him an unimpressed look. She then lays back to begin lifting weights, effectively ending the ‘conversation’.

Rex looked at the bag in front of him, he was angry, but suddenly there was no longer any appeal. He grabbed his towel and simply walked out. He didn’t need to fuck the new girl; they could just coexist, right? All while he was trying to get rid of her… nothing abnormal there.

Either way, he knew that what he had been thinking today while she was in his room couldn’t happen again. He was letting her distract him, and he was in pain. He didn’t like her. He just had to coexist. At least until she was off the team.

Author's Note: I kept trying to come up with reasons why pre-arc Rex wouldn't try to sleep with the reader. I really needed to channel his distaste just enough to keep the conflict but also keep him questioning. Show Rex I fear doesn't think anything through enough and so Kate ended up being useful for once in her entire life.

divider credit: @/ saradika

[rubylace]

PART 4. WHAT WE DON'T SAY

m.list

pairing: musician!jay x reader (f)  

genre: coming-of-age, new adult, personal growth, sexual tension, fams dynamic, lovehate

wordcount: 19k

nb: I took a little bit from jay's enlog

+a/n: [re-up] ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT *sad brutally* luckily I had the notes

You wanted to go backwards, back in time and hug him. Never let him go. Still reeling from his admission, you dug your nails into the back of the couch and said, “I don’t want us to be virtual strangers. You still mean so much to me. The fact that you’re angry at me won’t change that.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want us to try to be friends again. I want us to be able to sit in the same room and talk to each other, maybe have a few laughs. We’re gonna always own this house together in any case. Someday, we’ll be bringing children here. We need to get along.”

“I'm not gonna have children,” he said emphatically.

The fact that Yunjin had confided in you about Jay’s not wanting kids had skipped your mind.

“She told me.”

“She did, did she? What else did you talk about? My d*ck size? You tell her you got a good look at it?”

You chose not to entertain the quip and stayed with the subject at hand. “Why don’t you want children, Jay?”

“You of all people should understand that it’s asinine to bring a child into this world if you’re not 100% sure of your capabilities. My parents are a prime example of people who should have never procreated.”

“You’re not your parents.”

“No, but I’m a fvcked-up product of their mistakes, and I���m not gonna repeat history.”

It made you immensely sad that he felt that way. Thinking back to how protective he always was of you, you knew Jay would make an amazing father. He just couldn’t see that. Knowing that you had promised yoj wouldn’t rehash the past beyond tonight, an urgent need to get more off your chest overtook you.

“I beg to differ. I think that you are so much stronger as a person because you had to grow up a lot quicker than kids who were coddled and handed everything easily. You’ve given to others what your parents neglected to give you. I’ll never forget how you always managed to make me laugh even when it seemed impossible, how you always knew exactly what I needed, how you always protected me. Those are the qualities that would make someone a good parent. And whether you have children or not, you are an amazing human being. Not only that, your musical talent completely blows me away. It makes me so sad to think of everything that I missed because of my stupidity and fear. I know we’ve both changed somewhat, but I still see all the good in you even when you are trying so hard to hide behind a mask.”

Your eyes started to water, and a teardrop fell. “I miss you, Jay.” It felt like everything had just come pouring out of you before you could think about the consequences of being so open about your feelings.

He startled you when he reached over and swiped a teardrop from your cheek with his thumb, prompting you to close your eyes. His touch felt so good. “I think we’ve talked enough for tonight,” he said.

Nodding, you said, “Okay.”

He lifted himself off the couch and turned off the television. “Come on. Let’s get some air.”

You followed his lead out the front door and down to the beach. You walked in silence for what seemed like an eternity. The night was still except for the sound of the waves crashing. The ocean breeze was calming, and as strange as it was, the silence between us seemed like a therapeutic exorcism of some kind.

It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted because you’d gotten to say what you wanted to. Even though there wasn’t really a clear conclusion to our conflict, it was more closure than you’d ever had with him.

The sound of Jay’s phone interrupted the quiet of your walk. He picked it up. “Hey.”

“Everything is good?”

“That’s great. It’s really happening. What are you doin?”

“Just taking a walk.”

You found it interesting that he didn’t mention he was with you.

“Okay. I love you.”

“Alright. Bye.” After he hung up, you looked at him. “How’s Yunjin?”

“She’s good. She’s going to get to perform tomorrow night because the lead’s grandfather died.”

“Wow. That’s amazing. Well, not that the grandfather died.”

“Yeah. I got that.”

Not another word was spoken until you started to approach the house. Jay pointed to something in the distance. “Do you see that?”

“Where?”

The next thing you knew you felt weightless. Jay had lifted you off your feet and was running toward the shore. Judging from his laughter, there was nothing to point out he’d just been trying to distract you long enough to snatch you up.

He dumped your fully clothed body into the ocean. Salty water ran down your throat and up your nose. Jay immediately ran back to the sand, leaving you to wade through the water after him. He’d planted himself on the sand and was still laughing. He’d taken off his shirt which had gotten wet, and his pants were soaked.

“Do you feel better now?” you huffed.

“A little.” He chuckled. “Actually a lot.”

“Well, good. I’m glad for you,” you said, wringing out your dress.

He stood up. “Let me.” Jay surprised you when he stood behind you and twisted your long hair to help get the water out.

His hands lingered for a few seconds, causing your ribs to tingle. You turned around to distract from it and was met by his brown eyes staring into yours. They were glowing in the reflection of the light coming from your house. He looked heartbreakingly handsome.

Fumbling your words a bit, you said, “Um.. thank you. Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be thanking you, because you caused it.”

“It was a long time coming. I’d wanted to throw you in the water since the first day I got here.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Really.” He smiled mischievously.

“By the way, why are you still here?”

He squinted. “What do you mean?”

“You could have easily gone back to NY with her. You know that.”

“Are you implying something?”

“I’m not implying anything. I just know that you’ve been using the Yeonjun’s gig as the reason, and I find that hard to believe.”

“What do you want to hear, Y/n? That I’m here because of you?”

“No, I don’t know. I..”

“I don’t know why I’m here. Alright? That’s the truth. It just didn’t feel like it was time to leave.”

“Fair enough.”

“Are you done interrogating me for one night, pain in my ass?”

“Yes.” you smiled. “‘Payne in my ass’” was another name he used to call you. It was a play o the last name, Payne.

“Good.”

“For the record, I’m really glad you stayed.”

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes then said, “Trying to hate you is so exhausting.”

“So, stop trying.”

Your teeth started to chatter, it was getting chilly out.

“We’d better go inside,” he said.

Following him to the house, you couldn’t help thinking that the cold air outside had nothing on the warm feeling inside of me from having reconnected with him tonight.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Starving, actually.”

“Go change. I’ll make dinner.”

“Really?”

“Well, we gotta eat, don’t we?”

“Yeah. I guess we do. I’ll be back.” You smiled all the way to your room, giddy from the idea of him cooking for you.

When you returned with a dry outfit, your heart fluttered at the sight of Jay standing at the stove. He was still shirtless and wearing his gray beanie while frying some vegetables in a pan.

You cleared your throat. “Smells good. What are you making?”

“Just a teriyaki stir fry with rice seeing as though you have a limited palate. When the hell did you stop eating red meat anyway? You used to be a carnivore.”

He must have remembered how much we enjoyed Burger Barn together in the old days.

“One day, I just woke up and thought about how bizarre it was to be eating a cow. It made no sense. And I just stopped cold turkey.”

“Seriously? That’s kind of ridiculous.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve always been a little bizarre, Y/n. I can’t say that surprises me.”

You winked. “That’s why you love me.” You’d meant it to come out facetiously but immediately regretted using the word love given his prior admission.

When he didn’t respond, you panicked and diarrheal of the mouth developed. “I didn’t mean that you still love me. I was just joking.”

He held out his palm. “Stop while you’re ahead. I knew what you meant.”

You pursed your lips, trying to think of a quick change of subject. “Do you think you’ll go back to playing at Yeonjun’s tomorrow night?”

“Probably.”

“Good. I’m really looking forward to hearing you perform again.”

He grabbed two plates and emptied the contents of the pan onto each of them and slid mine across the counter. “Here.”

“Thank you. This smells delicious.”

The dish he’d made was actually very tasty. He’d added sesame seeds and water chestnuts. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“Self-taught. I’ve been cooking for myself for years.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“I thought we were done talking about this stuff.”

“Sorry. You’re right.”

Despite his having said that, he looked up from his plate and answered your question anyway. “My mother moved back to Cincinnati when I was in college. They sold the house. My father lives in.. I don't know, he likes to work abroad.”

“How long after I left did things continue between my mother and him?”

“About a year. My mother found out about what they were doing under our roof and kicked him out. He lived with Helen for a while before things went sour between them.”

“He moved in with her?”

“Yeah.”

You couldn’t believe it.

“My mother kept that from me then. That explains why Ameryn stopped speaking to her around that time. She was mortified by their actions.”

“I spent a lot of time over there with your grandmother before I moved away. She was the only person who kept me sane.”

“Did you ever talk about me to her?”

“She tried to get me to, but I wouldn’t.”

“Do you think she left us both this house because she knew it would force us to face each other?”

“I honestly don’t know, Y/n.”

“I think she did.”

“I had no intention of coming here and trying to make amends with you.”

“No, really? I didn’t catch on.” When he cracked a slight smile, you asked, “Do you still feel the same?”

“Things don’t change overnight. We talked. That’s not gonna erase years of shit that happened. We’re not going to just be able to magically be best friends again.”

“I never expected that.”

Playing with the remnants of your food, you thought long and hard before speaking again. “I’m just gonna say one last thing. And then I promise I won’t harp on it anymore.”

“I wouldn’t put money on that.” When his mouth curved into another smile, it was enough to give me the confidence to spill your guts one last time.

“I'll probably spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t run away, if I’d just put my fear aside and told you everything I was feeling. You told me tonight that you were in love with me back then. I truly didn’t know that, Jay, but I wish I had. I really had no clue you felt that way. I need you to know that I loved you, too. I just had a really shitty way of showing it. And to think that you spent all of these years hating me. I just want you to be happy. If being around me makes you angry or stressed, then I don’t want to force anything, and if that’s the case, maybe it is best that we keep our distance. But if there’s a chance that we can truly be friends again, I would want nothing more. And I’m not stupid. Of course, I know it won’t happen overnight. That’s it. I won’t say anything else about it.”

You got up from the table and put your plate in the dishwasher. “Thank you for dinner and for talking to me. I’m gonna turn in early.”

Just as your foot hit the first step to go upstairs, his voice stopped me. “I never hated you. I couldn’t hate you if I tried. Believe me, I have tried.”

Turning around and smiling, I said, “Good to know.”

“Good night, Payne in my ass.”

“Good night, Jay.”

You was having my morning coffee when a text notification lit up you phone. It was from Dr. Dino. ‘How about dinner tomorrow night?’

You pondered your reply. It would probably do you some good to take advantage of a distraction from Jay. Since your talk the other night, things had been more cordial between both. At least he was no longer avoiding you. After he performed last night, you actually drove home from Yeonjun’s together. It was a quiet ride, but it was a step in the right direction. So, things were as good as they could have been.

The problem was you. You still couldn’t curb your attraction to him and didn’t know where to draw the line on your emotions. You thought about him every second of the day. You’d be going your separate ways soon, not to mention the not insignificant detail of his committed relationship with Yunjin.

You would never do anything intentionally to jeopardize that. But you still couldn’t control your feelings. Your fingers forced out a response to Dino. ‘Tomorrow night sounds great. Just let me know what time.’

Jay’s deep morning voice startled me. “I see you made coffee fusion.”

You jumped, quickly putting down the phone.

He snickered. “Oh. Did I interrupt something? You texting a boy?”

“No.”

He glared at you suspiciously. “Liar.”

A nervous laugh escaped you. “Want some coffee?”

“Trying to change the subject?”

“Maybe.”

“So, who was it?”

“Will.”

“Dr. Dino?”

“Yes.”

“Ever heard of stranger dinosaur?”

“Yes.”

“They created that term about him.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’m pretty sure. Yeah.” He poured himself a mug of coffee and turned to me again. “Seriously? Dr. Cheesehall? You’re gonna go out with him?”

Nodding, you said, “Tomorrow night. What’s your problem with him anyway?”

“He’s disrespectful.”

“In what way?”

“That guy was eyeing you before he even confirmed we weren’t together.”

“Maybe he’s just perceptive.”

“How?”

“He sensed your disdain toward me. It was quite obvious.”

“Where’s he taking you?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You should find out.”

“What does it matter?”

“In case you go missing, I’ll know where to tell the police to start looking.”

Evening rolled around, and you had absolutely no clue what to wear. Dino said he was taking you to this restaurant on the water in nearby Tiverton. It was going to be a humid night, so you opted for a lightweight floral tube dress that you’d bought one afternoon while out shopping with Yunjin earlier this summer.

You could hear Jay panting from down the hall. Didn’t dare go over there to assess the situation after what happened the last time, you found myself witness to that jerk-off jamboree. After several minutes, what sounded like punching was added into the mix.

You broke your vow to stay out of it and marched out of your room to check things out. It turned out that Jay was in the exercise room beating the shit out of an Everlast punching bag.

Beads of sweat were dripping down his sculpted back. The room smelled of sweat mixed with his cologne. His hair was drenched. He had headpone in, and you could hear the music blasting through them. Gritting his teeth, he hit the black rubber contraption harder and harder. Your heart beat faster with every punch.

When you inched cautiously closer, he growled, “Get out of the way.”

you flinched as his arm swung dangerously close to you.

You backed up but stayed watching him from the corner of the room. you’d seen him working out before but never like this. He was like a beast, so strong and virile. It occurred to you that with Jade gone so long, he must have been sexually frustrated.

Maybe that was why he was taking it out on the punching bag. Whatever the reason, you was transfixed by the energy he was expending and found yourself unable to take your eyes off him.

He suddenly stopped, lowering the headphones on his neck, and moved over to the doorway where he’d set up a metal bar for pull ups. Your eyes followed.

He jumped down from the bar and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Nothing better to do than to watch me work out? Aren’t you supposed to be getting dressed for a date?”

“I'm dressed.”

“That’s Yunjin’s dress, isn’t it?”

“No. It’s the same one she has, but this one is mine. We both bought these from the same shop on clearance the same day.”

“It looks normal on her. On you…it looks ridiculous.”

Your stomach sank. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

“No, but your body is different than hers. That dress looks obscene on you.”

Looking down at yourself, you suddenly felt naked. “What are you talking about?”

“You want me to spell it out?”

“Yes.”

He came up behind you, grabbing your shoulders and positioning you in front of the full-length mirror on the wall. Shivers ran down your spine from the feel of his rough hands on you.

“Look. Your tits are busting out of it. Your nipples are poking out of the middle of those daisy flowers.”

Your mind was in a fog because all you could see was you in the mirror with Jay’s hot, sweaty body behind you. Then, he flipped you around fast and his stare was burning into yours.

He was too close for comfort, and your legs felt like they were going to collapse under you from the surge of sexual awareness. “Look at your ass in the mirror. The material can barely wrap around it. You think Dr. Diilittle is going to be able to look you in the eyes when you’re dressed like that?”

“You really think this looks that bad?”

He suddenly walked away from you and returned to the pull-up bar. Your nipples were tingling. You just wanted his hands on you again. “I think it makes you look like a whore,” he said before doing a few more reps in silence.

He hopped down, the weight of his body causing a large thump against the wood floor. “You really are that oblivious, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You never did have any clue what kind of effect you have on people.”

“Be specific, please.”

“When we were younger, you would sit on my lap, put your hands on me, run your fingers through my hair, hug me all of the time with your massive tits pressed against me. I spent half of my teenage years walking around with a hard on that I couldn’t do anything about. The entire time you apparently had no clue.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know that now. And you have no idea how many times I had to defend you behind your back. Guys talking about your body, saying sexual things about you right in front of my face. Do you have any clue how many fights I got into because of you?”

“You never told me.”

“No. I didn’t. Because I was trying to protect your feelings. I tried so hard to fucking protect you from shit, and that was the one thing that bit me in the ass in the end.”

“I’m sorry.”

He held his hands up. “You know what? Never mind. My bad. Let’s not do this again. I told you we were done talking. And we are.”

“Okay.”

“I’d like to continue my work out in peace if you don’t mind.”

“Alright.”

Back in your room, you could hear that he’d returned to the punching bag in full force. Still reeling from his words, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Maybe you was really just a clueless person.

But he never exactly expressed his feelings to you back then, either. “Was I supposed to be a mind reader?” you felt like you needed to make that point. It was bugging you. You returned down the hall and spoke through his violent hooks to the bag.

“The other night you asked me why I never told you how I felt. Well, clearly you didn’t have the balls to tell me how you felt, either.”

Jay stopped punching but kept his arms on the bag, leaning against it. He took a few seconds to catch his breath. “I thought it was understood. How much more obvious could I have been? All the f*cking songs I wrote you? Did you ever even see me with any other girls?”

“No. But you did admit to kissing someone before that night at Sunghoon’s.”

“I did kiss one girl before that night. Wanna know why? Because I didn’t want to be clueless as to what the f*ck I was doing when I finally got the courage to kiss you. I never considered it a real kiss. I wanted my first real one to be with you. I wanted everything with you. But I was afraid you were too young, so I was waiting. I didn’t want to rush things and ruin it. But you’re right. A part of me also didn’t have the balls to tell you how I felt.”

“I wish you had. You were being careful, and I was just clueless. Together, we were…careless.”

“Careful plus clueless equals careless? Did you just make that up right now?”

“Yes.”

“That’s pretty cheesy.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“You’d better get ready for your date with Trapper Dinosaur.”

You laughed, relieved that he was smiling about things now. “Will you help me?”

“Help you? What the f*ck do you need help with?”

“Help me pick out what to wear. Because I think you’re right. This is a little skimpy.”

“A little skimpy? Hustler would be calling you tomorrow if I sent them a picture.”

“Alright. A lot skimpy.”

“You can’t figure this shit out on your own? It’s pretty simple. You cover your tits and ass. Done.”

“Yeah. But I still want to look good. You know I have a tendency to pick weird stuff. Potato sack couture and all. I feel like I go from one extreme to the other, and I don’t know how to dress in between.”

“Fine.” Jay let out an exhausted breath and followed you to your room.

You started to take dresses out of your closet, throwing them on the bed one by one. “How about this?”

“Slutty.”

“This one?”

“Sluttier.”

“Okay. This?”

“You got Birkenstocks to go with it?”

“Alright? This one?”

“Well, that would be one way to get rid of him.”

You covered your face. “Aargh! This is so frustrating.”

“I know a solution.”

“What?”

“Don’t go on the date.”

“Because I can’t figure out what to wear?!”

“Yeah. I think you should stay home.”

“You just don’t like him.”

“You’re damn right.”

“Again, why?”

“He just wants in your pants, Y/n.”

“Well, he’s not getting in my pants.”

“You sure about that?”

“I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”

He lifted his brow skeptically. “You’ve never slept with a guy on the first date?”

“Well…”

“Exactly.”

“Even if I wanted to sleep with him which I don’t, it wouldn’t be tonight.”

“Why is that?”

“I stabbed myself again.”

He shook his head and chuckled when he figured out you was referring to your period. “I see.”

“Why do you think that he’s only interested in me for my body anyway?”

“It was his eyes. I don’t trust them. You can tell a lot about someone by the look in their eyes. His gave me a bad vibe.”

“Well, I have more going for me than my tits and ass. So, hopefully you’re wrong.”

“You’re right. You have nice deep-set dimples when you smile, too.”

My body felt flush from the compliment that had come out of the blue. I didn’t know how to respond, so I simply said, “Shut up.”

“Just be careful,” he said seriously, reaching into his back pocket. “Speaking of which.. take this with you.” It was his old red Swiss Army knife from when you were younger.

“You still have this?”

“I’ll never stop needing this.”

“You really want me to take this with me?”

“Yes.”

Taking it from him, you said, “Okay.”

“Are we done here?”

“We still haven’t picked out what I’m wearing.”

Jay walked over to your closet nd ran his hand slowly along the lineup of outfits, eventually stopping at a simple black sleeveless dress that was far from revealing. It looked more like something you could wear to a funeral. Actually, it was the dress you had bought to wear to Ameryn’s funeral before you realized she had explicitly written that she didn’t want one. She wanted to just be cremated with her ashes thrown in the ocean without any fanfare.

“This one? Really?”

He held the dress in his hand. “Don’t ask for my help if you’re not gonna listen.”

“Okay. This one it is.” I took it from him and watched as he made his way out the door. Your eyes focused on the rectangular tattoo on his back.

Even though you always thought it was sexy as hell, you was never able to get a good enough look at it for some reason until now. “Jay.”

He turned around. “Yeah.”

“What is that tattoo on your back?”

His body stiffened. “It’s a bar code.”

“That’s what I thought. I always wondered. Does it mean anything?”

Refusing to answer my question, he simply said, “Get dressed. You don’t want to be late for Dr. D!ck.”

“Dino!”

“Yeah. Whatever you say, Payne.”

taglist: @rikizm @sumzysworld @xyzcxx @morganaawriterr @maccaab @jungwonie

PREVIOUSLY | NEXT

[agirlsawalittlerose]

This is Me Trying

ModernAU!Aegon x OFC

Fresh out of rehab, Aegon Targaryen is looking for a way back into music when he meets Victoria, a talented but stubborn singer-songwriter who wants nothing to do with his family’s record label. Reluctantly thrown together, they form an unexpected creative partnership, finding common ground in music and shared struggles.

TW: Alcoholism, Addiction, Sexism

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 22: Rock'n'Roll Suicide

There was only one thing more unbearable than meetings with Jen, Emily, and the entire team—and that was when meetings also had the incredible appearance of Viserys Targaryen. With the added bonus that Vic still hated him for the situation he’d put her and Aegon in. His overly cheerful demeanor still gave her the creeps. And that was despite the endless conversations about the album, despite the hours spent arguing over marketing strategies long before this.

But the Stevie Nicks shows were getting closer, and—aside from still being bummed that she hadn’t gotten to meet her idol (even if she was quietly proud they were only one degree of separation apart now)—Vic was starting to freak the hell out. Because now, the meetings seemed to point to something way bigger than her. Now that the album was nearly done, and her “online presence” had taken form, today wasn’t just about music. It was a cold war—a group of men arguing about things that concerned her. Oldest story in the book.

Today’s hot topic was a damn interview with Vice—a magazine that hadn’t been interesting for at least a decade, maybe longer. But still, apparently, it was a good look: her face, her new bob, and the few lines they’d dedicate to introducing the album and, by extension, her appearance at Hyde Park this summer. Viserys Targaryen, however, was not on board with the plan.

“Absolutely not,” he’d said, his voice dipped in a level of exasperation Vic hadn’t even known he was capable of. He sat safe and smug behind his desk, ironically alone, while she, Aemond, and Allen—who was casually leaning against the wall, full of quiet confidence—stood opposite him.

“Vice is a big window,” Allen said, not missing a beat. “Vic should be front and center in that conversation. Their readers are exactly her demographic.”

Vic smiled dryly at the idea that he even knew what her demographic was.

But Viserys didn’t seem convinced. He actually scoffed, almost spitefully. Vic found it hard to believe these two even called themselves friends.

“You mean the same demographic that tore Aegon to pieces in print last year?” he shot back, voice sharp. “Let’s not pretend this is about exposure.”

A dig to Allen. One Vic didn’t fully understand—or maybe she did, and just didn’t want to give it weight.

“Also, according to who? You? Or the editor who’s been holding a grudge at me ever since I pulled her niece’s record contract two years ago?”

“Technically, you never signed it,” Aemond corrected him, with a kind of arrogance Vic found oddly out of place. Viserys noticed too, shooting him a look that promised a long-ass lecture later. He was about to say something when Aegon, unapologetic as ever, knocked at the office door.

Viserys let out yet another sigh, while Allen raised an eyebrow at the interruption.

But Vic couldn’t give less of a fuck. She’d let these walking testosterone clouds wedge themselves between her and Aegon for too long, and today she just wasn’t in the mood to let them win again.

She stood up without a word, not bothering to glance behind her, and opened the door.  

Aegon greeted her with a smile before scanning the room, clearly unimpressed by the tension clinging to the air.

“What happened?” Viserys asked, as if bracing for his son’s next disaster.

“Relax, for fuck’s sake. Nothing happened,” Aegon replied, with zero interest in losing their quiet, private war. “We have plans later,” he added casually, as Vic took her seat again. He stood behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder in a small show of support.  

Aemond let out a dry scoff from the chair next to her—something Vic noticed had not gone unnoticed by Allen.

“Vice is a tastemaker, whether you like it or not,” Allen resumed, shrugging like that was the end of it.

“It’s exposure. And exposure matters,” Aemond added, more emboldened now.  

Vic noticed how his perfect posture lined up neatly with the confidence in his voice.  

She also noticed no one was asking what she thought.

“You want to keep pushing this indie-messiah narrative like it won’t backfire into a trainwreck interview and make me lose a lot of money?” Viserys snapped at his son, and Vic felt a stab of anger hearing how this asshole really saw her.

Not surprising he didn’t give a damn about what she had to say—or her music.  

Well, maybe he should’ve thought twice before getting involved in this whole mess for whatever thirty-year pissing contest he was having with Allen.  

Fucking idiot.

“She needs to have coverage because she’s a good investment,” Aemond replied, remarkably unfazed by his father’s venom.

Vic shifted slightly in her seat, her face unreadable.  

Allen caught it, and leaned forward toward her.

“That’s exactly it. Call it an indie-messiah narrative, fine—but Vice is great exposure,” he pressed, beginning one of his signature pacing sprees until he reached her chair.  

“You remember what we talked about, Vic? The theory—recognizability. Hair, voice, angle, songs, where your face lands—it all plays.”

Vic felt her throat tighten, in the same strange way she’d felt Aegon’s hand grip her shoulder.  

It wasn’t comforting anymore.

“You mean branding,” she said quietly, with a small smile.

“I mean mythology,” Allen replied a bit dramatically, leaning in, eyes gleaming like he was proud she’d finally gotten it.

She felt Aegon’s gaze on her, careful.  

She wondered if he’d seen it too—that flicker of pride in her eyes, the way she clung to Allen’s words just a little too long.  

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“You want mythology? Let’s wait until we’ve actually sold an album, shall we?” Viserys snapped again, lashing another blow straight into Vic’s gut.  

Thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole.

“What we’re building here—it doesn’t work if no one hears about it,” Allen said sharply, finally breaking eye contact with Vic to square off with Viserys.

“You mean what you’re building. You always did love chasing shiny things,” Viserys shot back.

“And you always did love being right more than being relevant,” Allen snapped, and Vic was floored by how much raw energy was still pulsing between these two washed-up old men locked in a never-ending dick-measuring contest.

“It’s not the ’80s anymore, Dad,” Aemond chimed in suddenly, smirking the second everyone’s eyes landed on him.  

“I’ll talk to the editor at Vice. Maybe he doesn’t even remember who you are—or what you did to his niece,” he added, finally drawing the line in the sand and showing exactly where the power had shifted inside the Targaryen family.

Viserys was alone. Cornered. His face was flushed red, and Vic couldn’t help but notice a vein pulsing at the base of his neck.  

She’d never seen him this furious.  

Actually, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anyone this furious.

Allen dismissed himself without ceremony. As far as he was concerned, the matter was settled: the Vice interview was happening.

Another classic Allen move. Vic had started noticing more and more that sharpness of his—how precise his mind was. Sharp enough this time to get even Aemond to stand up to his father. She’d also noticed something else: how Allen wasn’t even remotely intimidated by Viserys basically owning her music. Unlike her. She could still feel the heat of Viserys’ rage simmering in the room, like a bomb ticking down to detonation.

So when Allen turned back to her and gently brushed her hair like she was a child, Vic let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“Look, no pressure,” he said, low and steady. “But you walk into that room, own it, tell your story—people will remember. You’ve got it, Vic. You just have to let them see it.”

“Right. Let them see it,” she repeated under her breath.

“What is it, exactly?” Aegon cut in suddenly, removing his hand from Vic’s shoulder and leaning on the armrest instead—his posture mirroring the challenging glare he was now aiming squarely at Allen.

Vic blinked, momentarily thrown. Allen, of course, wasn’t.

“The myth, Aegon. You weren’t paying attention,” Allen replied smoothly, unbothered.

To Vic, it didn’t sound cruel. But she saw Aegon’s whole body tense up anyway, every muscle going rigid—and that confirmed it.

His jaw clenched.

“Right,” he muttered through his teeth, laced with sarcasm.

*****

Allen’s voice still echoed in the back of his skull—“Come on, we’ve earned lunch, haven’t we?”—but all Aemond had done was nod, offering nothing more than a blink and the slow stretch of his jaw. His brother had already stepped into the hallway, Victoria trailing after like a weight unhooked, Allen her leash and her savior all at once.

And Aemond had stood frozen, statue-still in the chair.

Because he’d seen it coming the second their father turned toward him.

“Stay,” Viserys said.

Just that. No anger in his voice yet. Just command—cool and sharp, like the snap of piano wire.

The door shut behind them.  

Silence fell.

Aemond didn’t move, except to straighten his spine further, as though posture alone could stop the coming storm.

Viserys didn’t speak right away. He walked back to his desk instead, slow, deliberate. Each step a countdown.  

And Aemond hated how familiar it felt. Like standing outside the principal’s office, or waiting for a verdict that always came with the same bitter taste.

“Tell me something,” Viserys finally said, turning on his heel. His face was unreadable—but the vein at his temple was still there, pulsing like a loaded gun.  

“Was this your idea?”

Aemond didn’t answer right away. He picked a spot just over his father’s shoulder and stared at it, like neutrality could pass for innocence.

“Was it,” Viserys said again, and this time the tone landed.

Aemond’s jaw clicked.  

He forced a breath in. Measured it. Released it.

“She deserves a platform,” he said. “And Vice is—”

“Don’t insult me.”

The words hit harder than expected. Flat, unshaken, but laced with something hotter underneath.

“You went behind my back. Again.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did.” Viserys took a step forward. “Don’t lie. Don’t play semantics. Not after I warned you.”

Aemond stared at him, heat rising in the back of his throat.  

“Why does this threaten you so much?” he asked. “You act like Victoria doing a five-minute press hit is going to ruin—”

“This isn’t about Dawson,” Viserys snapped, his voice suddenly sharp. “It’s about you. Undermining me. You spent months breaking my balls to sign this damned girl, scheming behind my back with my own team, forcing me to sideline your brother—and now you’re taking liberties with outsiders we have no relationship with? People just waiting for an excuse to drag this label through the mud?”

Aemond’s lips parted, but he had nothing.

Viserys didn’t stop.

“You think you’re smarter than me. You think because you sit in a few board meetings and clean up your brother’s messes, you’ve earned the right to steer this ship.”  

He pointed a finger now. “But you haven’t. You’ve coasted. You’ve performed. And you still don’t understand the difference between the illusion of power and the cost of it.”

No. No, that wasn’t true.

He’d studied every number, reviewed every contract, sat in meetings no one else had time for. He’d cleaned up disasters without complaint, without thanks. He had bled for this label.

Aemond felt something split—quietly, inside his chest.

It had always been this way. His competence seen as arrogance. His precision mistaken for ambition.  

He worked harder than anyone. Smarter, too, most days.  

And yet—he was never trusted. Never the golden child.  

Just the one who was expected to keep everything from falling apart, only to be punished when he tried.

“This label—” he began, low.

“—Is mine,” Viserys finished. “Not yours. Not Allen’s. And you clearly need reminding.”

Aemond felt the shift before the words even landed. It moved in Viserys’ eyes, a flicker of resolve that carried the weight of decades.  

“You’re fired.”

The world went still.

Aemond blinked once. Twice.  

There was no dramatic gasp. No flash of rage. Just nothing. A white, endless silence in his mind, like the shock of stepping outside into snow barefoot.

“You’re not serious,” he said, voice even.

“I’m dead serious,” Viserys replied, with a kind of cruel calm. “As of now, your contract with the label is terminated. You can have legal review the paperwork tomorrow. And I expect your keycard back by the end of the day.”

It hit him then.  

Not the words.  

The finality.  

Like he was watching his life shut behind a steel door.

“Why?” he said quietly, eyes narrowing. “Because I don’t roll over? Because I don’t want to fade into whatever pathetic idea of legacy you’re trying to salvage?”

“Because I’m done cleaning up your version of control,” Viserys hissed. “This place was never about your ego. And I’m not going to let you drive it off a cliff for the sake of proving a point.”

Aemond stood, slowly.  

His hands were steady. His eyes weren’t.

“This place is my life,” he said. “And you know it.”

Viserys didn’t respond. He turned away instead, already half-dismissing him.

“Get out,” he said.

Aemond didn’t move for a full five seconds.

Then he stepped back.  

Then another.  

And finally turned, walking out without another word.

He didn’t slam the door. Didn’t yell. Didn’t give his father the satisfaction of seeing him break.

But when he hit the hallway—when the air changed and the distance grew—he felt it:  

That hollow rush in his lungs.  

The weightless, awful silence of a future he hadn’t planned for.

He had no plan B.

No version of himself that existed outside those office walls.

And for the first time ever, Aemond didn’t know what to do next.

*****

She was glowing. Practically levitating.

The shitty pub lighting did nothing to dampen it—if anything, the flickering bulbs made her buzz harder, all sparkle and teeth and eyes sharp enough to carve through glass.

Vic was so happy she could’ve floated right off her barstool and into the fucking ceiling.

“I mean, I knew it was going to happen, of course I was going to meet her, but actually getting invited to a party thrown by Stevie Nicks?” she started, practically vibrating, gesturing wildly with both hands, recalling the conversation they had with Allen at lunch.

Aegon looked at her, beaming. Damn Vic Dawson and the way seeing her happy gave him that weird twisty feeling in the pit of his stomach he’d been forced to admit was called emotion.

“Yeah, no doubt fangirling will totally win her respect,” he teased, just to see her crinkle her nose in that overly offended way she did when she was pretending not to be delighted.

Vic threw a coaster at him. “Don’t ruin this for me, Aegon.”

Aegon caught it midair, grinning despite himself.

“Hey! Stating a fact.”

He looked at her—hair messy in that intentional way, rings flashing, eyeliner slightly smudged like she’d just stumbled out of a backstage photo from the ‘70s.

He could see the kid she used to be. The one who sang into a hairbrush and cried to Silver Springs.

And yeah, it made his chest ache a little. But in a good way.

“What do you even wear to a Stevie Nicks house party?” he asked, sipping his beer.

Vic raised her pint like a prize. “Guts.”

He laughed. “That’s not an outfit.”

“It is if you wear it right,” she said, then took a long sip—too long, actually. He watched her drain nearly half her drink without blinking.

He frowned. Not enough to show. Just filed it away.

She was on her second already. Maybe third. He couldn’t remember. And maybe that wouldn’t be weird if she’d touched the chips he’d ordered twenty minutes ago. But she hadn’t. And now she was slurring the slightest bit when she said “Nicks.”

“So what, we show up and it’s like a coven meeting?” he asked, nudging her. “Do we bring crystals? Sacrifice a drummer?”

Vic rolled her eyes. “You are such a hater.”

“I’m not hating. I’m preparing. Mentally. Emotionally.”

“For what?”

“For watching you fall madly in love with a 76-year-old woman and leave me for her Malibu guesthouse.”

“I could never ever leave you! You could be out there… serving drinks or something,” she joked, her eyes half-lidded from the beer.

“Might work,” he replied, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek.

She grinned at that, but there was something else behind the smile. Something quieter.

She was chewing on something inside, and he could feel it—knew her too well not to.

“Hey,” he said, touching her knee under the table. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” she said, too fast. Too automatic.

He tilted his head. “You sure?”

Vic leaned back against the wooden booth, stretching like a cat, then gave him a look. “I’m about to hang out with the most legendary woman alive and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

“Yeah,” Aegon said, slowly. “Because I know what it looks like when you’re riding the high, and I know what it looks like when you’re white-knuckling it.”

That landed. Just for a second.

Her smile slipped—barely—but enough.

Then came the deflection: “Christ, you’ve been hanging around Allen too much. That sounded suspiciously like emotional intelligence.”

There it was.

And just like that, Allen was in the room again.

Not literally. But enough to twist something in Aegon’s chest.

He took a breath. Careful.

“Speaking of Allen,” he said casually. Too casually.

Vic glanced at him sideways, but didn’t respond.

He tried again. “You’ve been kind of… synced up with him lately, haven’t you?”

She arched a brow. “Synced up?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No,” she said, raising her pint again. “Spell it out for me.”

“I mean,” he said, tone a little sharper now, “you quote him more than your own lyrics. And it’s getting harder to tell whose voice you’re listening to when you talk about the album.”

There was a pause.

A long one.

Vic set her glass down harder than necessary. The clink echoed between them.

“Wow,” she said, leaning in. “Didn’t realize you were keeping score.”

“I’m not,” he said. “I just know you. And I want to make sure you’re doing okay. You look… tired lately.”

‘Using drinking as a palliative more than usual’ was his exact thought, but it definitely wasn’t the right time to hit her that hard.

She took another gulp from her pint and shrugged. “Well I am tired. That’s why I’m grateful Allen’s doing the hard work with all the ‘branding’ stuff I don’t know shit about.”

Aegon watched her fix her bangs, and yeah—if there’d been any doubt—that was her tell. She was worried. Uncomfortable. Maybe both.

“You mean like cutting your hair?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Vic blinked, her expression turning softer, sadder.

“I thought you liked my new hair,” she said, a little whiny, fingers brushing the part of her neck that was now always exposed.

“I’d like you even if you were a bug, princess,” he said gently, kissing her forehead and luckily she smiled at him.

“I feel like Allen believes in me,” she said. “And obviously he pushes me, but that’s a good thing.”

“Yeah,” Aegon said quietly. “I noticed.”

Boy, had he noticed. Give a girl with daddy issues a semi-authority figure who showers her with praise for five minutes and watch what happens.

Aegon wondered if Allen had noticed it too. If he was just a manipulative asshole, or if he actually believed his own bullshit about branding and myth and bobs and Vice.

They stared at each other. The gig behind them swelled, someone launching into a distorted riff, the crowd whooping in approval. But they weren’t really listening.

Vic was the first to break.

“Don’t do this,” she said softly. “Don’t make me feel bad for trusting people in an industry I didn’t grow up in.”

Aegon sighed. Rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m not trying to. I’m really not. I just…” He trailed off. “…Think the way he’s all over you is a bit shady?”

“Well, he is a manager,” she said, still missing the point.

“Is he a good one though? I’ve never had one…” he replied, trying to nudge her toward it.

Vic looked down suddenly, as if hit with a wave of guilt or shame, though Aegon couldn’t tell exactly what for.

“Well Stevie Nicks trusts him. Do you think she’s an idiot?” she said, trying to lighten the mood, finally grabbing a chip from the plate.

“No, but he…” Aegon muttered under his breath, and Vic nudged him with a mischievous smile.

“‘The way he’s all over you,’” she echoed, clearly taking the piss. “My hot boyfriend is jealous of a 65-year-old man,” she added, giggling.

Aegon stared at her in exaggerated fake shock, absolutely floored she’d said something that ridiculous. She had to be wasted if she thought that was the issue.

“AS IF, Victoria,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Don’t call me by my full name!” she laughed, snuggling into his chest to soften him up.

And just like that, the tension popped like a balloon.

They settled into a gentler silence. Her knee still pressed against his. His fingers brushing her wrist when she wasn’t looking.

Damn Vic Dawson and how exhausting it was to care about someone’s wellbeing.

Fuck her.

[uhdrienne]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

ch12. a man who loved his son

🌼 pairing: wonwoo x reader

🌼 genre: fluff

🌼 word count: ~1.2k

🌼 warnings: mentions about death

Wonwoo opens his door, and fresh spring air rushes in. Suddenly his house is too warm, too stuffy. He thinks he needs a walk, and some coffee to clear his head.

He startles at the man sitting outside his door.

"...Jay."

The man turns, his eyes red-rimmed. "Chief Jeon."

Wonwoo's rooted to his spot. He doesn't know what to say. Or if he should even say anything.

Jay turns away and falls silent again.

After an eternity-long pause, he finally speaks. There's a tremor in his voice, a certain vulnerability that renders Wonwoo completely unable to speak.

"My father was a good man," Jay begins.

Wonwoo nods, although the man with his back faced to him can't see it. Even verbally agreeing sounds like too much.

"He did everything he could for my mother and I," Jay says, hand raising to wipe a stray tear away. "He took odd jobs, worked sixteen-hour shifts just to make sure we were comfortable. My mother was so happy when he got a steady job as a security guard."

Wonwoo swallows hard.

"He spoke highly of the people he met at your firm," Jay continues. "He said the people there were polished, well-educated, polite, and successful. He said he wanted nothing more than for me to be like them."

"I always wondered what you were like after my father passed away," he said. "I wondered if you were still a successful bastard, and I wondered if you had already forgotten who Park Shin even was."

"I never will," Wonwoo murmurs softly.

Ignoring him, Jay continues. "I always found it odd. After his death, I expected us to truly hit rock bottom. My mother stayed home full-time to care for the house, and with the medical bills, the home.... I always anticipated us going out on the streets. But we didn't."

Wonwoo glances at him, and blinks back tears.

"We even moved into a better house," Jay looks directly at Wonwoo. "Were you behind it?"

Wonwoo glances away. "It was the least I could do. It couldn't even compare to what your family went through. I... I figured at least easing the financial burden would be a small start."

"Was it because you pitied us? Or did you think an only son wouldn't be able to get the family out of trouble?"

"No, of course not," Wonwoo is quick to deny. "Never. I never doubted what your father told me about you. I knew you were a smart and capable young man. I just... I couldn't stand by and watch your family grieve on your own."

Jay stifles a soft sob.

"He never got to see me succeed."

Wonwoo stills.

"After so long of failed interviews and me stumbling home, drunk out of my mind because I was so desperate... after all that, he died before I could buy him a house, enough equipment to let him fish all he wanted. I tried so hard when he was around."

"But I just couldn't find a job," He mumbles. "My parents never said it, but they worried just as much as I. I mean, a twenty-something-year-old man, still relying on his parents for food and board?"

"They were always proud of you," Wonwoo finally makes out, his voice soft and uncertain.

Jay turns around, just an inch. "What did you say?"

"You weren't the only one who heard stories of his life," Wonwoo begins. "He always told me about his son. How he was talented and limitless when it came to making people look good. He always said he believed that someone wonderful would come along and give you a good chance to prove yourself."

Jay scoffs bitterly.

"He didn't understand your profession fully, but he always spoke well of you. He insisted that one day you'd get past the interviews and get a good job at a good production firm."

Wonwoo swallows again.

"He taught me that first impressions are the most important," Wonwoo explains softly, finally daring to take a seat on his wooden bench, a short gap away from Jay. "He said our suits were smart, and he wanted one just like that for his son. He wanted to get it fast, so he asked if there was something he could do--"

"So it was me," Jay remarks dryly.

"What?"

"It was my fault he wanted to invest. If not for my worrying him, he wouldn't have gotten himself into anything --"

"That wasn't... what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?"

"I meant... that if anyone was to blame, it would be me. I didn't grab on to him when he needed us. I wasn't there when he needed someone to tell him that everything would be okay."

Jay sniffs. "I know."

Wonwoo shakes his head. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness. It's not your job to forgive me. I know that... this is... inexcusable. I just..." Wonwoo breathes softly. "He would be proud of the man you've become. I... I just thought I could try to make things easier. But I guess I went about it the wrong way."

Jay sobs, loud and unabashedly. Wonwoo lets him cry, lets him drain every drop of water in his body, the strain of it shaking his entire body and air coming out in short, gasping heaves.

"I'm not forgiving you now," Jay cries. "That's a long time coming. But I want you to do just one thing."

Good. Jay could ask him to kneel, to beg for mercy, to cry and repeat just how sorry he was, and Wonwoo would do it. It came as a relief to know that there was something Jay wanted from him, as a form of retribution.

"Name it." He meant it.

"Don't ever...." Jay hiccups softly. "Don't ever forget that there was a man who loved his son... and that he was just one of many security guards at your investment firm. Just remember..."

Wonwoo looks at him.

"Remember the name Park Shin."

You're writing out a new recovery report for Grandma Lee when your phone rings.

The name on the screen makes you jolt right out of your seat, but you immediately collect yourself and pick it up. "Wonwoo?"

"Hey," His soft voice comes over the phone. "You must be busy. Sorry I called while you were at work. Are you in the middle of something important? Should I call later?"

"You can call anytime you want, you know that," You reply. "How are you?"

"Better."

"That's good," You breathe, relieved. "Need me to drop anything off for you? Food? Fruits?"

"No, I'm fully stocked, thanks to you," You hear him huff in amusement, and the sentiment makes you just about ready to fly. "I just..."

"Hm?"

"I just miss you," He replies, and you swear to every higher being, the sun is shining. "You think we could have supper tonight?"

Wonwoo's back. He's back, and he's here, and he's better than he's been for some time.

Perhaps things could really get better.

"Of course," You reply, trying to stay calm. "I'll head to your place."

"Sounds amazing," He mumbles through the phone. "I've done a poor job at being a boyfriend, it seems. I haven't... let you see me much."

"Well, I suppose you can start by catching up on Grandma Lee," You say wryly, surveying the screen in front of you. "She's recovering well. The cast is working, and she's in good spirits. She's talking about preparing more corn for the village dinner."

"Is that right?" He hums. "I suppose it would be poor taste if I didn't show up and help?"

"Extremely," You reply.

"I'll be there," You can practically feel him through the phone. "From now on, I'll be there."

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

🌼 summary: going back to the countryside where you grew up was at the bottom of your list. unexpectedly, your life changes course, and you eventually find your home in weekly village cleaning, the sound of the waves, and with the local jack-of-all-trades, jeon wonwoo.

🌼 pairing: wonwoo x reader fic (written, fluff, angst, hometown chachacha!inspired)

🌼 genre(s): fluff, mild angst, yn can be mean sometimes at the start (this is inspired by the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha, so some parts of the plot and characters are similar), wonwoo is an overall sweetheart

ch.11: can i tell you something?

prev. masterlist. next.

🌼 taglist: @gaslysainz @lev1hei1chou @mingycr

[ofgutfeelings]

Matt was someone who took pride in taking care of himself. He hated being given special treatment or that extra care that brought on attention to himself. A fact Sylvie knew because even when his love Hallie had passed he was given the sympathetic expressions, he was given the stares he experienced his friends his firehouse bring him food, or in Severide’s way of caring a six pack of bar, now that was laughable when Severide echoed out the words it helps the pain. Or forgetting. But Matt was no stranger to the caring, the family feeling this firehouse feels like. And Matt was in no mood to fight with Sylvie given how awkward he still felt from where the pair left things that night. Nor did he have it inside of him to hurt her feelings. So he had no choice but to be polite about her treatment towards him. 

He liked Sylvie she was one of his closest friends. And he understand the care, the tenderness came from nature and her massive heart for others. And each time Matt felt as if he was getting annoyed with her; and let’s be honest when she insisted on making his plate he felt irritated, but he also appreciative how much the blonde cares about him, and he remembers those days after the funeral when he was forced to take a step back from the job, she was the one who catered to him, who was holding his arm through that storm. And now he didn’t want to tend this joy this need to cater even if the male felt he was more than capable of handling himself. “ And something tells me if I asked you to stop after this shift, you wouldn’t. Pausing as he felt himself fall into a thought knowing that was horrible assumptions on his part. Tilting his head to glance at her, a softness on his features. “ Listen, I’m sorry that was wrong of me to say, I shouldn’t assume but I do want to get back to normal next shift. I know I scared you Sylvie, I scared myself. But I’m okay and you know me I hate this feeling of needing to depend on someone or being fussed over, but I also know if the roles were reversed I would’ve been the first at your door to ensure you were okay, but please..” Try was the word that was stuck on his lips. 

Matt wasn’t selfish, he cared deeply of how the female thought about him, and yeah he scared himself with the fall, and he was terrified to say the words his head wasn’t okay, but he was more terrified of losing his job, of not being able to come back from the head injury, and with time Matt may come clean. Turning down to his food, he heard the whispers, but Matt didn’t do gossip, he zoned it out as he chewed down on his breakfast, probably the best version of it he had in days. Zoning voices out, while that dizzy feeling started up in his head again, the ringing, god please stop he thought to himself.

Continued

@callsitasiseeit

Matt Casey had closed himself off to the idea of getting close to anyone again. Not after losing Hallie. Her death had haunted him. She was once the love of his life; the woman he was planning a life with, and suddenly she was gone. And he felt like it was his fault. He was the one that wanted to go after Voight; the dirty cop and as repercussions his girl got the burn. Casey never forgave himself for that. He carried the weight of her death with him for years. 

Through all my impatience, all the pain I’ve felt there was one person who never made me feel guilty for what happened and that was Sylvie. We hung out off shift; we would grab a bite from time to time. She was great friend; but recently I started to experience the notion that it could be more. The way I felt when her eyes were on me, the way I found myself letting my glaze linger after her. I had realized I looked forward to seeing her; it felt familiar and safe for me to keep these pent up feelings to myself. I knew in house romances tended to fizzle out; it was about the chase, to who you could be with. And once you realized the spark was a fleeting feeling the relationship fizzles out. And Sylvie I couldn’t open that can of worms when I was unsure if what I was feeling was real. Last night I had tossed and turned with the idea all night. To say Sylvie kept me up all night was an understatement. I knew what Severide would say; he’d say go for it fuck the consequences Because he was all about the risk and gain philosophy. But i liked to play it safe; so all I could do was act normal. 

Wear a smile, and pretend like my eyes weren’t aching to close. I spotted the blonde at the back of ambo; she looked like she was adding supplies; or doing her own morning inventory. I had walked until I paused besides the ambo, I had offered a smile; it was cute the way she jumped before turning to face me. 

“ Looks like your morning has been eventful. “ Words echoed out; as he heard the story of all the christmas decorations gone wrong; I had to laugh at the humor of it. Christmas was a joyful time, all the lights, the music playing in the background; Herrmann made use we felt the spirit; I could already hear the christmas music playing in the house. It was nice; to feel that sense of home here at the firehouse. “ Remind me never to attempt to set up lights on my own. I might need you to stop by as standby ensure I don’t get tangled up.” A joke; but of course the female kenw she was always welcomed to save me. There’s no one else I’d count on. 

Last night; my plans, a drink with Severide; we chatted, got a beer or two, Stella was there and one of the single ladies; which meant Severide was attempting to set me up for the holidays; I had to roll my eyes at the memory. “ Unless you count Severide trying to tell me I need to date again nothing too out there.” Causally saying the words; or perhaps I was testing the waters; see if the blonde cared; I suppose this is when I’d have the answer if this relationship was worth the risk.

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Rebound

Part two to Underground

Pairing: Fighter!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: You lose your last tether to the normal world and Bucky has to make a decision. You’re officially part of the Underground. Does he help you, or not?

Warnings: 18+. Angst, violence, fluff and smut.

Words: 5OOO

The demanding throbbing in your feet nearly feels delightful as you drag yourself home to your cramped apartment. As the sun rises and the city turns pink and orange, your building starts to come alive. Though you can barely manage to keep your eyes open.

You can tell the Underground is starting to toughen you up. You make longer days, are a bit paler in your face, making your features sharper, and the bravado you muster as you survive every night is surely something that has started to cling to your face and posture permanently. The people that start their days at sunrise, the ones that weren’t blipped from society and still have a life to return to, they walk around you in a big circle now.

It only makes you feel smug. The society slowly casting you out – starting to fear you.

However, your confidence has a short lifespan when you walk up to the front door of your apartment. The fresh paper with red capital letters stamped on it shouldn’t come as a surprise. You have tried to hold this moment off for as long as possible, going even as far as to take small side jobs in the fighting dome to make some extra money.

You suppose it was only a matter of time before you’d have the words ‘EVICTION NOTICE’ stamped across your door.

And your adrenaline spikes again, realising the time has come that you are officially homeless. You have been well and truly cast out by society, something both you and Natasha had been trying to fight and hold off for as long as possible. This is why the spy had introduced you to the Underground, to make some sort of living. And Nat had never judged you for staying in denial a little longer, even though you knew you would have to get used to the Underground fast, because it was only a matter of time before it would be your new home.

So no sleep for now.

You rip open the door and start packing, leaving all the old furniture that was already there and ending up with one big, stuffed duffel bag and a smaller bag. And then you stand in your place that is no longer your place and truly has never really felt like your place. You look around and feel angry …and hurt. After all, you have been chewed up and spit out, like so many before you.

You stuff that feeling far, far away and vacate the building right as de evening rolls back in. Evening already – since you have tried to put off this moment for as long as possible, have extended packing for hours. Since you don’t have a clue where Natasha lives, if she even resides in the country right now, you are forced to step to the one person you do not want to go to…

As you enter the dome, the place eerily quiet since the nightlife is a long way from commencing, you mildly greet the bartenders and crewmembers readying for the night. You scrunch your face at the stench, wondering if the place ever really gets cleaned. In the darker corners you see things that you decide are none of your business and you drag yourself through centre of the Underground, the capitol of dodgy business.

Making your way to the locker room, you breathe a sigh of relief when you find it empty. Finding a locker in the far back, you stuff it full with your last belongings and pray that none of it gets stolen. Maybe you can find a place in this building to sleep in. You have definitely seen other people crash here for the night, though you debate how safe you’d be. You hardly think you’d close an eye in a place like this.

Then, all the hairs on your body stand up straight.

You slowly turn to find Bucky staring at you, one brow quirked and that being the only sign of his curiosity. “Why are you already here?”

You swallow, “Just trying to get some extra work in.”

Neither of you have talked about what happened nearly a month ago. How you rode his leg with his fingers inside of you until you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. And how that had been enough for him to come nearly untouched. Well, you say untouched, but you had felt just how heavy he was on your tongue and that’s where you wanted him coming next. Badly.

And you can’t exactly say the tension between you has shifted much. Something that made you realise just how high tensions between you already were. But you dropped it, so had he.

“You have to be careful with those side businesses,” he tells you as he turns to his own locker, one that does have a lock. “People will take advantage of a woman like you.”

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you,” you snap at him and move to find your bag of supplies for the fight. You try to calm your breathing as you find the bag, kneel down and rummage through it, checking if you need to restock any of your supplies, if only to give yourself something to do for the upcoming hours.

But your spine stiffens again and it’s a little darker around you. So you turn and immediately stand up with you see Bucky looming over you. His eyes rove over your face, peering straight through to your soul, where it quivers before him.

“If you could take care of yourself,” he drawls, “you wouldn’t be homeless right now.”

You startle, “What? How do you know?”

He smiles, but it feels more vindictive than smug. “Because word travels fast, sweetheart, and a pretty girl like you on the loose is gold in the Underground.” He pauses and then his smirk turns smug, “Especially when she’s desperate.”

“I’m not desperate!” you squawk in outrage and he takes a step closer, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face.

He clenches his jaw, eyes hardening. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“How?”

“That is none of your concern.”

Bucky lets out a humourless laugh, tilting his head up and running his tongue over his teeth in annoyance before he lowers his gaze back to yours. “You see, it seems like I’ve signed a stupid fuckin’ contract where that is my concern. So please tell me you have a plan and I don’t have to intervene.”

“Intervene?” you sneer and roll your eyes. “Please, it’s not like you can offer me anything out of this place. You’re not here by choice.”

He quirks his brow, seemingly intrigued by that assumption. “Is that what you think? What if I was here by choice, huh? What if I chose this life?”

You fall silent at that, and decide to keep it like that. An argument with him won’t be worth it. Besides, what are you going to tell him? You have nothing and no one. You are officially at your wit’s end and for you, that is saying a lot. The silence stretches… and stretches…

“Give me something to do,” you tell him quietly –deflated– when he doesn’t break the silence either. You don’t see Bucky’s face soften when he watches the defeat in your face before you stare down at the ground.

Bucky’s skin prickles like there is electricity in the air. Because he’s angry. He’s pissed and furious and so fucking angry. That the world can spit out a woman like you, like it has let down so many good people after the Blip.

And the anger doesn’t cease. It only gets worse, like magma bubbling under his skin and boiling his bones. That night, he beats up opponent after opponent in what seems like a record time. People get killed in these fights all the time, they fight to the death all the time. After all, there are too many people and they know what they signed up for when they enter this place. Yet, it’s a line Bucky has never crossed, never will cross. Not anymore.

It’s difficult, to stay of this side of that line tonight. He wants to kill. He feels the soldier crawling under his skin, flipping knives in anticipation, begging Bucky to unleash him. And he thinks he has hardly been this angry before. Bucky yanks on that leash and fights, each punch and kick doing nothing to quench his thirst for justice.

Win after win, Bucky ruins everyone who dares to take it up against him. But he doesn’t hear the crowd – the screams for more blood and sensation, the cheers that he is the most dangerous man in the Underground. He only hears the rushing of his blood in his ears as he thinks about the woman the world has abandoned – as he thinks about you.

…

“Grab your bags. You’re coming with me.”

You gape at your two bags sitting on the leather bench and peer back at all of the lockers, each of them seeming like they have been ripped open with brute force, some of them dented in a manner that looks like a metal hand gripped its edges. You briefly glance at his metal hand and then up to his face.

Unflinching. His command and his face.

So you grab your bags and follow after him silently. Through countless of alleys and wild crowds that seem to think the night of violence has only just begun, even though the sky is turning lilac with dawn. You sometimes hobble to catch up with the soldier, your arms quaking under the weight of your duffel bag. But you keep marching onward, the last dregs of your energy fuelled by what is to come.

The stairs of the industrial building are almost too much, but you try not to stumble since Bucky is walking behind you and that would severely hurt your pride. The fatigue is making every step feel like torture, like you’re climbing a sandy hill and you have to move carefully to keep from slipping into the dark depths. When you do stumble slightly, the weight of your duffel tipping you backwards, you feel the faintest nudge of a warm hand at your lower back, just enough to tip you back and let you continue your trek up the stairs.

Bucky overtakes you at last and opens a door with around twenty locks attached to it, all of them unlocked. He walks in like it’s habitual and you trudge after him, your energy spiking enough to take in the sight. Bucky walks over to the floor to ceiling windows and rolls down the beige canvas curtains. Just as the sun peaks over the horizon of the city and orange light pours into what you can only assume is Bucky’s home.

It's big. Simple and imposing, but cosy nonetheless. There are plants, a fact that has you fighting to keep from smiling. And brown leather furniture, a beautiful and clean kitchen… You turn your gaze back to the man of the house, who is now standing beside a massive bed with cream sheets and fluffy pillows. Your eyes become bleary at the sight, sleep fighting its way to the surface and threatening to drag you to the floor.

Bucky panics slightly at the look on your face and strides over, grasping your bag from your trembling arms. He has to hold back from cursing at the thought that you must not have slept for over forty-eight hours and how dreadful the past day must have been for you.

He guides you to his bed and lets you collapse into the sheets as he pulls off your boots. Bucky knows you would have put up more of a fight if you weren’t so exhausted, but he won’t use it against you. Just like you didn’t use his weakness against him when you were massaging him.

That massage.

He cannot cast the thought from his brain. Never mind what followed the massage. The woman that was on his knees for him, that came around his fingers and was moaning for him so beautifully – she seems like such a far cry from the woman before him. How you can be so careful and feisty, yet such a dream when it comes to his most sinful fantasies. What you did to him in that locker room that day has been playing in his head on repeat. And he wants to slap himself for wanting to crawl beneath the sheets now, drag those clothes off your body, spread your thighs and bury his face between them–

He quickly stands from the bed and clears his throat, casting you one more look before he’s off to the kitchen area and refill his energy in other ways.

…

When you wake up, it’s dark again. It takes you a while to orient yourself, your body fighting off the heavy blanket of sleep you have been swaddled in. The bed below you is more comfortable than anything you have ever felt and the smell–

Pushing up to a seat, your body becomes alert of your surroundings just in time to hear the rattle of about twenty locks opening. In walks Bucky, slumping as he moves his bruised body across his own floors. He notices you, doesn’t pay you any mind, and then plants himself to sit at the edge of the bed you are laying in. He bends down with a quiet grunt, unlacing his boots and peeling them from his feet.

He seems exhausted. And judging by the darkness, he has called in an early night. You push off the sheets and crawl towards him. Bucky tenses almost imperceptibly, but you gently put your palms on his wide shoulders. You swear you see him shudder, before his back bends over more in relaxation.

“I lost tonight,” he tells you as you slowly circle your warm palms over his back.

He lost. That’s unlikely. Something must have happened for him to lose. He must have been distracted. Or someone new has joined the Underground. Something’s maybe different. Shit, you were supposed to take care of him yesterday. He’d fought harder than you’d ever seen him fight. He must have been broken this morning– But, no. He has fought fights without your care for God knows how long. It couldn’t have made a difference now.

“What happened?” you ask, doubtful he’ll open up to you.

His head snaps backwards and you flinch at the look in his eyes. “What do you mean ‘what happened’? You happened. Can’t fucking focus with you being all dramatic with your personal bullshit.”

You draw back. “Excuse me?! I don’t recall making my problems yours!”

“Well, they are now, aren’t they?” he snipes back and runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

And you think maybe it’s not you he’s frustrated with.

“What do you want from me?” you ask quietly. Timidly.

You barely hear him, his voice muffled by his hands as he speaks, “I want you on all fours.”

But you did hear him. Some part of you heard him, that’s for sure. The heat that left your body after your endless sleep is returning to you in a different form, pebbling your skin with anticipation. You swallow hard and barely manage to get out, “What?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and slowly turns to you.

“Lie on your stomach.” The order is soft, but so, so clear and not gentle by any means. You search his eyes frantically, but only find his immovable self. Your traitorous body lights on fire at what she finds. So you do as you’re told.

And you wait.

Two large, warm hands travel up your clothed legs. Kneading your calves, your thighs, until they knead your ass. You cannot help but push your hips back to seek the pressure. You feel his looming presence crawl over you and you hold your breath. Soft lips press to your shoulder that got exposed after your shirt slipped slightly.

His hands slip around your hips and under them. The feeling of your jeans popping open, makes your core throb with need. He pulls your jeans down, but not off. No, just far enough down for access and to keep you in place, barely enough give even allow you to squirm.

Then, you feel his weight press into your body and you could have never imagined feeling his weight would be enough to make you want to moan. That’s when you register the feeling of his hard bulge against your ass and you push up against him again. Bucky answers with a muffled growl against your shoulder, followed by a gentle bite as a warning.

“Careful,” he drawls, one hand holding him up slightly as his other spreads over your side and slips under your shirt to feel your bare skin. You shudder at the feeling and bite your lip, your fingers curling into the pillow below your head.

How is this even possible? How can you deteriorate so quickly when he has barely touched you? His breaths turn heavy against your neck and you twist your head to hear him better, your mouth so close to his now. You wonder why it is that his breathing is coming out more laboured, but the only thing you can come up with is that it’s plain old restraint that is stiffening his body, his lungs.

One of your hands reaches back and up, and you scrape the pads of your fingers over his stubble. Bucky’s grip on the sheets tightens and his hips roll down into you in response. His mouth attaches itself to your neck and he hums as he grazes his teeth over your skin, his tongue soothing the pain instantly.

“Bucky,” you whisper and he rolls his hips again. The hand under your shirt slides to your front and grabs your breast, kneading the flesh in his hand. Desperate, clingy. He groans.

Something is shifting between the two of you and you feel a rawness coming to the surface. You remind yourself Bucky is requesting this for a reason, but he might be lost in it. In you. Then, you hear him mumble against your skin. Something you’re not sure he wants you to hear, but you give a soft coo to urge him to repeat himself.

“Please,” he moans softly. “Please.”

His hand slides down and wastes no time before slipping into your underwear, his entire hand cupping your cunt as he rolls his fingers through your folds. You gasp and let out a moan, writhing your hips when you cannot choose between moving up or down.

He’s rutting into you like a starved man, his fingers indulging in their exploration like he’ll find salvation between your legs. You open your mouth to ask him what he wants, but he rolls his fingers over your clit and you let out a whimper instead, making Bucky nuzzle his nose right below your ear.

“You’re all warm,” he mumbles and kisses your neck, your jaw – so close to your lips. His fingers are torture, so devious yet so innocent. As if he’s completely content playing with you like this for hours. Your belly flutters and tightens and warms at the sensations he coaxes to the surface.

It’s selfish, what he’s doing. This is all him, trying to console himself.

“Don’t,” you breathe desperately and roll your hips into his hand. “Don’t tease, Bucky.”

“ ‘M not. Just feeling you,” he whispers and you open your mouth to fight him on it, but then his warm mouth covers yours and the moan that spills from your throat is sinful. His tongue immediately invades you and you melt as he consumes you everywhere that he can. One finger slips through your wetness and into you and Bucky inhales the response you give him, groaning in response.

He grinds down, so do you, completely out of sync and with mouths moving desperately over each other. You cling to your pillow with one hand and bury your other in Bucky’s hair, pulling when he adds another finger and his weight keeps you from moving into him more. You whine against him, sensations at war within you when he keeps playing with you like a selfish cat.

“I’m so fucking wet,” you whimper and Bucky grunts in agreement, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Just stop playing–”

Bucky laughs then – laughs – a manly chuckle as he nudges his nose against yours. You want to cry for mercy and your toes curl when his fingers do, making you clench around him tightly. Your orgasm is being dangled in front of you like a carrot and you wonder if he just wants you to feel the way he feels. Frustrated, angry. Like he has no control whatsoever.

But what he does next goes so fast, it makes your head spin. Your body goes cold when his fingers leave you and when his body rises from yours, leaving you behind. But your hips get lifted and the pillow below your head gets snatched and shoved beneath your hips. You try to move, if only to accommodate his inexplicable actions, but your jeans are keeping you from moving.

You feel him crawl over you again and this time, you do moan at the pressure, bending your back to press up against him. He grinds down in response and you feel the pressure of the pillow against your womb, shooting tingles through your limbs when you realise what he’s done.

One of Bucky’s hands slides over yours and pins it to the mattress, your fingers automatically curling around the security of his. And it’s nice, the feeling of him engulfing you. It feels safe and warm and insanely intense. You turn your head, hoping to find him near. Your heart swells when he presses a kiss to your cheekbone.

“I want to fuck you,” he murmurs against you skin and you nod frantically, making him chuckle again. “I’m not against begging for it at this point.”

And apparently, you’re not entirely gone, since your lips curl into a smirk and your voice drops to a low purr when you tell him, “Please beg for me.”

How ironic, to beg someone to beg for you. Though, your brief confidence doesn’t falter. If anything, it is about to skyrocket.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs against your ear, his soft lips moving against the sensitive skin. “Let me inside you. Let me make you feel good.” He sounds so genuine, so depraved and full of longing. You have to swallow down the carnal desire that crawls up your throat. You nearly choke when you feel the tip of his bare cock nudge against your folds. “Open up for me. Let me slip right in and I’ll fuck you into the mattress, okay? My mattress.”

You nearly whine, all ready to completely cave for him. And then he finishes it with a whisper in your ear, “Please, sweetheart. Let me have you.”

Yeah. Yes. Oh, yes. You mouth the words, but no sound comes out. You might be slipping outside of your body. The way Bucky sounds – his voice so deep, yet needy. You can only nod your head and squeeze his hand, rubbing yourself up against the tip of him.

“Hm, good girl.”

He slides home with one easy thrust, pressing you down into the mattress and skating his cock over each of your swollen walls. You cannot form a sound, or a thought, or catch a fucking breath. Especially not when he rotates his hips slightly and presses down even further.

You nearly choke, quiet for a long second, before you heave in all the oxygen that you can manage, “Oh my god!”

He pulls out slightly and rolls back in, keeping you full and stuffed and only nudging your spot with the tip of him. Over, and over, and over–

“That’s the spot, huh?” he pants against your ear and ruts into you further. “Right… there.” You gasp on a whine and he presses a kiss to your temple. The pillow adds a delicious pressure and you wish to put your hand there, just to feel him move in and out of you.

It’s so perfect, so sating, so much and deep and– You didn’t know it could be like this. Didn’t know it was possible to suddenly realise how screwed you are for the future. How nothing and no one will ever be able to compare to this. To him.

Your orgasm crawls closer and it feels like nothing you have felt before. Your clit is throbbing and aching and your walls are hugging Bucky like he’s never allowed to leave. Your hips tighten and your shoulders scrunch as your orgasm clamps down on you like a snake ready to strike.

“Bucky, I’m–”

He tightens his grip on your hand and latches onto your hip. “Yeah, I know. Me, too.”

You hear the strain in his voice, the hint of disappointment and you scramble to get your brain back in order. “Come in me, Bucky. Come inside me,” you rush out through quick breaths. You can’t elaborate. You just need him to fill you.

He leans back over and slows his thrusts, his breath fanning over your flushed skin. “Yeah? You want me to make a mess of you? You want proof that I fucked you deep enough?”

You let out a grumpy whine and he laughs beautifully as he drops his forehead to the back of your head. He picks up his thrusts, slow and deep and steady. His swollen cock slides over every cushion inside of you and you shudder at how sensitive your are so close to your orgasm. But it comes quicker than you anticipated. You wanted him to go faster, but with this tempo, you feel the orgasm that is coming closer might drown you.

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him to speed up, but the wave has already reached the shore and your ears hollow out.

The tremors seem to start from within as you swell with pleasure, seizing around Bucky and threatening to curl up. You think you might be grasping for something to hold onto as Bucky remains consistent through your orgasm, fucking into you with a steady rhythm and meeting you with every contraction of your high.

It is so completely overwhelming that you barely feel it when he comes, if it isn’t for the litany of beautiful moans and whimpers from him against your neck. He bites your skin to ground himself through his own orgasm and then melts over your body, pulling your hand to his lips.

Bucky quiets his own breaths to make sure he hears yours and is happy to learn how sated and satisfied you sound with your soft pants. He crawls off of you and gently tugs you over on your back, smiling as he watches you bend to his will.

Peeling off your jeans, he keeps his eyes on you, mesmerised with the sight and the feeling of having you in his bed. A feeling he had yesterday, too. Not just lust…

Your eyes peel open and you peer down at him while he strokes his sweaty palms up and down your calves and thighs. “Is this part of my ruse as a physical therapist and personal nurse now?”

Bucky quirks a brow at your wit and you feel something unfamiliar at the relaxation on him. How he seems more expressive and gentle and less guarded.

“No, this is private.”

Bucky’s eyes rove over your body and you flush with warmth, both from his words and from his assessing stare. You feel him drip from between your legs and swallow, fighting the urge to close your thighs. But Bucky, ever the trained assassin, immediately notices and lets a smirk crawl over his face.

He leans down and presses his lips to your left knee, eyes narrowing in on your cunt. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack when you told me to come inside of you.” You freeze at his words and keep a close eye on him. “I fucking knew the sight would be good, but–”

He lets out a starved groan.

You sound wary, “Bucky.”

He spreads your knees and crawls down to kneel at the foot of the bed, tugging you towards the edge. Surely, he wouldn’t–

You throw your head back when Bucky dives head first between your legs, running a flat tongue through your folds. You’re not sure if it’s the taste or simply the idea of him licking you clean of himself, but Bucky growls and hauls you closer, nudging his nose against your clit like he’ll never find anything better than what’s between your thighs.

You cannot help but bury your fingers in his hair, the wild throbbing between your legs pushing your mixed essences out and onto his tongue where Bucky drinks it up appreciatively. His fingers dig into your flesh and it takes a while for Bucky’s ministrations to have any other purpose than to taste you. But when he sucks your clit into his mouth, you tug on his hair with warning, making him chuckle.

“You don’t fight fair,” you choke out and he grins up at you.

“Oh, sweetheart, if you knew what the prize was, you wouldn’t fight fair either,” he murmurs and moans in delight as he continues his feasting. “Now how about you give me that prize and come on my tongue, huh?”

No, Bucky didn’t lose tonight.

[quinnverse]

"I agree that sons have more pressure placed upon them than meets the eye, but men also have far more ways to have hide their pains. Women face many of the same pressures, if not more, and we are expected to grin and bear it. Could you imagine how different the world would be if men weren't allowed to drink their sorrows away, or gamble their earnings, or act upon their carnal desires?"

The last time she had partaken in a conversation like this was when she had been told by a suitor that he was willing to look past her bluestocking tendencies in favor of her appearance. In practically the same breath with which he said that, he implied that women are too weak in constitution to gamble or drink excessively, the way men do. It took everything in her power not to throw her drink at him and stomp away, but Belle knew lashing out in such a way would only further prove his point. Instead, she had offered him a smile and walked away, but not before reminding him that women, too, were capable of acting upon their carnal desires. The look on the man's face had been enough to fuel her for the rest of the night and the memory of it still tickled her to this day.

“You are the only one here who’s been fined for such a thing, because you’re the only one who’s been careless enough to get caught. Ladies are far more… calculated in their mischief, you know. You would not believed some of the things I've gotten away with in my life, all thanks to being cautious."

Belle began to roll her eyes as he seemed to begin agreeing with her mother's sentiments, but the more he spoke, the wider her smile grew. Belle had always trusted her intuition and it had saved her behind in more than one occasion. Her intuition was the only reason she had dared to slip away from the party and wander into an empty study with an unmarried man. Her intuition had been the reason she'd boarded the boat and set off for Boston in the first place. Her intuition hadn't led her astray yet, but she supposed there was always time for that to change.

“Is that so? Because my intuition tells me that you’re rather charming and intelligent, as well as gentlemanly, which is why I am not concerned about any intentions you might have. But, if you truly want me to ignore those instincts, I suppose I could…” Belle bit at the inside of her cheek as she tried to suppress a grin.

“‘Borrow’ implies returning, Mister Bolton. So, unless you plan on visiting England any time soon, it would be more akin to theft than borrowing. A notion I’m not entirely against, as you can see.” Gesturing to the room around them, it took Belle all her strength not to burst out laughing. When she was younger, Belle always found herself in midst of giggle fits when she and her cousins would play hide and seek. Something about sneaking around always made her giggly, even now into her adulthood. “Or do you mean to say you plan on waiting until the next time I visit my cousin? Because I don’t think my mother will be letting me go on any more trips until I’ve scored a husband. I would, of course, return it eventually, but the ‘when’ exactly is out of my control.”

“Yes,” Scoffing, Belle playfully swatted at him before shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest. “I am quite sure. Now I admit to being clumsy at times but not when the great bard is at risk. I take very good care of my tomes, I’ll have you know.” Other than the ones she brought with her on excavations to the garden, or to the pond, or in the tips of the trees she’d climb in. She was usually rather careful with her books, but reading in strange places had a way of dirtying the paper more easily than if they were kept indoors.

“Be careful in insulting my balance, Mister Bolton,” Belle shot him a teasing glance over her shoulder before disappearing into another row of shelves. “Or I might accidentally drop a book on your foot.”

Benjamin's smile faded a fraction. "Being the only son isn't always a blessing," he offered. "But no, I...I suppose in his case, it would be beneficial." Refusing to fall into a maudlin state, he forced a smile and tugged Candide from the shelves -- an old favorite -- and started flipping through the pages. "Not that I intend to defend Ned, but I can assure you: boys in each household carry far more pressure than what meets the eye."

Belle spared him a skeptical glance. “One can only be corrupted if they held any semblance of innocence left, though, correct? As much as I’m confident in your ability, I think corrupting me would be the challenge of a lifetime. If anything, I would be the one corrupting you."

A slight flush curled against his cheeks, and with a self-conscious laugh, Benjamin challenged, "How so? In our short acquaintance, you have been nothing but charming -- a true delight who my father would undoubtedly love." Arching a brow, he added, "So unless there are secretly some devil horns underneath that hair of yours, I fail to see the threat. And as far as I'm aware, I am the only one here who's been fined for disorderly conduct."

Belle pursed her mouth, amusement flashing across her eyes. “Hmm… I’m not sure I entirely believe you, but I won’t pry. Your scandalous secrets are safe with me.”

"Scandalous, are they?" Benjamin echoed, grinning as he set Candide back onto the shelf. "Your mother is correct: it is wisest to trust your intuition. Though if I'm such a scoundrel, I suppose I'm hoping this is one instant where you ignore your instincts."

When Belle inquired about Roderick Random, he smiled and replied, "It's a bit difficult to explain succinctly, but in short, the naive protagonist goes on a series of misadventures. Despite all the abuse, grief, and shame he endures, it all ends quite happily -- and I suppose that is the appeal: that no matter what happens, our lives can always turn around for the better."

Belle glanced at him briefly, though once their eyes locked, she was quick to look away again. And as she explained her plight with Titus Adronicus, an odd sinking sensation formed in Benjamin's stomach despite his grin.

"I don't have to see any," he replied. "I own several tomes of Shakespeare...both gifted and purchased. So if you wished to borrow...?" Trailing off, he promptly dismissed the idea of bringing her into his home, and instead, decided to tease her with, "Are you sure it was sea turbulence? It sounds to me as if it was more of a balance issue."

[mollysunder]

If I've said it once I'll say it again. I'd love to see Vander's memories of Silco run contradictory to Jinx's memories of him. Both their respective last moments with Silco should filter their other memories of him with bias.

Maybe Jinx's memory Silco would be slightly more whole, the sequences of events make more structural and logical sense. Maybe her memories are literally rosier in hue thanks to the pinkish glint of shimmer coloring the scene.

Meanwhile, years of torture and isolation have at best turned Warwick's memory into Swiss cheese. He can remember names and faces okay...ish, but the more it makes him angry (or just in a way he can't process) the more the memory distorts. Warwick remembers Silco, but he can't remember Silco young. He can give Silco an unscathed face, but he still adds lines of age because his most vivid memory of Silco was his last.

I want Silco to tell Jinx one thing in her memory, while Warwick's memory plays out a whole other sequence of events. But it's only fun if Silco's story in Jinx's memory is the one that makes more sense. No one is reliable narratir, still some people are more reliable than others.

Bonus points if Warwick's deteriorating memory reflects how trauma could affect Vi's own memory down the line.

[uncanny-tranny]

The most infuriating form of sanism is this idea that mentally ill people/people with mental disorders are just too stupid or too unenlightened to know how to be a proper, well-adjusted person

So many therapists have ignored signs of my unwellness simply because they assumed I was just... being stupid, and I just needed educating about why I'm acting disordered (apparently, mental disorders stop disordering you once you are condescendingly told why you're just disordered and dumb, who knew (sarcasm)).

Like, I could tell them that I knew my behaviour wasn't "rational," wasn't "reasonable" to do or believe and I'd still be treated like I was so dumb I needed hand-holding and scolding about why I'm acting disordered.

I truly wish that people would be able to take the idea of guidance and stop twisting it into "I am superior and enlightened and the people I am trying to help are stupid and wrong and beneath me!"

[castlebuilt]

“  that's  a  nice  way  to  put  it,  ”  buck  told  her,  a  slight  smile  spreading  across  his  lips.  he  admired  the  way  she  was  able  to  put  a  positive  spin  on  things.  he  knew  that  not  everyone  was  capable  of  doing  something  like  that.  it  took  more  strength  to  remain  positive  and  kind  than  it  did  to  be  a  shitty  person  in  his  opinion.  the  world  could've  broken  anyone  down,  but  evidently,  maddie  wasn't  the  type  to  let  it  do  that  to  her.  he  was  proud  of  her  for  that,  even  if  he  was  confused  about  it.  they  were  supposed  to  be  strangers,  but  he  was  certain  he  wouldn't  feel  this  way  about  a  stranger.  sure,  he'd  be  proud,  but  not  to  this  extent.  almost  as  if  he  knew  that  maddie  had  endured  hell,  but  lived  to  tell  the  tale.  “  yeah,  i  do,  ”  he  stated,  a  nod  following.  she  just  seemed  like  the  person  who  tended  to  be  right  about  most  things.  buck  imagined  he'd  find  it  a  little  frustrating  at  one  point  or  another.  he  had  a  feeling  she  would  be  able  to  read  him  like  an  open  book,  even  when  he  wasn't  prepared  to  be  perceived  by  anyone.  buck  scoffed,  feeling  his  cheeks  heat  up  a  little  bit.  there  she  went,  reading  him  a  little  too  well.  “  what  .  .  .  you've  never  flirted  with  anyone  on  the  job  or  thought  about  it  ?  ”  he  asked  teasingly.  though,  he  supposed  it  would  be  slightly  more  unprofessional  for  a  nurse  to  flirt  with  a  patient.  still,  he  knew  he  should've  kept  calls  strictly  professional.  his  past  self  was  the  one  responsible  for  those  questionable  decisions.  buck  chuckled,  his  brows  furrowing  slightly.  “  well,  right  now  .  .  .  i'm  definitely  not  looking  to  meet  anyone.  especially  not  someone  on  a  call.  that's  in  the  past.  ”  half  of  his  mind  was  a  little  too  fixated  on  eddie,  the  other  half  focused  on  figuring  out  what  was  going  on  in  terret's  cove.  “  yeah,  maybe  he  will,  ”  he  said,  shrugging.  he  wasn't  going  to  push  about  it  or  anything.  he  would  understand  if  eddie  was  still  waiting  for  chris  to  properly  adjust  to  their  new  lives.  either  way,  buck  respected  whatever  choices  eddie  made.  it  wasn't  his  place  to  question  why  he  was  doing  things  a  certain  way.  if  he  went  and  did  that,  it  would  just  mean  he  was  no  better  than  their  parents.  the  male  couldn't  stop  himself  from  snorting  at  her  words,  head  shaking  in  amusement.  “  don't  worry,  your  dibs  are  totally  safe  and  respected,  ”  he  assured  her  before  laughing.  chimney  was  a  great  guy,  but  he  definitely  wasn't  buck's  type.  he  did  think  chim  and  maddie  would  complement  each  other  well,  even  if  he  technically  barely  knew  maddie  if  he  was  going  off  of  the  memories  he  did  have.  “  i  do  think  so,  yeah,  ”  he  insisted.  it'd  be  nice  to  see  chimney  actually  get  a  date  for  a  change.  he  was  sure  he  could  convince  him  to  go  on  a  date.  hell,  maybe  he  could  just  give  him  the  false  assumption  that  it  was  a  simple  hang  out  and  invite  someone  else  along  like  eddie  to  make  it  a  little  more  believable.  “  oh,  yeah,  no.  you  could  definitely  stop  by  the  firehouse.  i  think  that'd  be  a  great  idea  actually.  there's  no  harm  in  stopping  by.  i  could  tell  chim  you're  there  for  a  tour  or  something.  he  wouldn't  question  it.  i  can  be  casual.  ”  buck  nodded,  taking  a  moment  to  think.  “  i'll  figure  something  out.  trust  me.  you  two  would  be  like  .  .  .  perfect  together.  ”

❝ every scratch and scar has a story , ❞ she mused. maddie perhaps knew better than anyone that an emergency visit warranted some sort of story ; ranging from a kid's broken bone from playing too hard to something far more terrifying. she watched as doctors practically demanded the truth from patients , but maddie used to be first to lie about injuries. call it shame , embarrassment , pride. if it weren't for being a nurse herself , there likely would've been a much longer paper trail of all her supposed ❛ accidents. ❜ some co - workers thought her just clumsy , but others knew better yet stayed silent. however , if she learned anything from that time in her life , it was that sometimes you have to admit the truth before you can truly start to heal. ❝ you think ? ❞ she hummed with some satisfaction. a sense of relief warmed her chest. if the feeling was mutual , she could hold out hope that somewhere some part of buck recognized her ; that despite everything , they were still siblings. she couldn't hide the smile that pulled on her lips , though she tried to contain it as to not come off too eager. ❝ once or twice ? yeah , sure ... ❞ her disbelief obvious. she knew buck's history , or maybe she could only make extremely strong assumptions of this buck's history , to know better. ❝ perhaps i shouldn't judge , ❞ she smirked as her tone conveyed otherwise. ❝ plenty of people meet their partners through work before dating apps. you're just as a firefighter just make those meet - cutes a bit more ... interesting ... ❞ if she recalled correctly , a majority of his past relationships in los angeles were started in some way or another through some emergency. buck's love life was far more plentiful and colorful than maddie's. she saw chimney , thought he was cute , and ended her search there ; even got a precious baby girl out of the thing. her smile only grew as he repeated her words , made her a promise. it was the thread , the connection , she needed in that exact moment. ❝ he'll come around , ❞ she assured , unclear if she was talking about chris visiting the firehouse or something else entirely regarding eddie. regardless , she knew she was going to harass the former army medic , though she knew she wasn't the buckley sibling he listened to ; no , she was just the one who sent him photographic evidence sometimes. ❝ good. good. dibs are sacred , after all , ❞ she chuckled. it was weird , to be calling dibs on her husband , but ... this entire situation was weird. the least she could do is try to play it off. after all , isn't that what chimney would do in this situation ?? too bad she was worse at the one - liners. ❝ oh , you really thing so ? ❞ she tried to sound casual. when their courtship first began , it sort of happened outside of buck's presence. their friendship escalated so quickly that it took buck pointing out they were practically dating before they even acknowledged it. this time around , however , she didn't have the same reasons to hold back , and maddie was keen on making her romantic intentions clear from the start. that is , if she even knew how to begin with. ❝ maybe i'll have to swing by the firehouse ... or is that weird ? ❞ her brows furrowed slightly. she shook her head slightly. ❝ listen , i need my own excuses to get out , okay ?? though i have a kid to blame ... not sure your friend's excuse , but i'll more than happy to agree. ❞

[thedreadvampy]

we interviewed like, literally the perfect candidate today (for another job I'm on the panel for, sadly not for my team) but also they work with Sam so I was like 'NO. I SHOULDN'T ask Sam 'hey is [name] sound?'

but because I have no boundaries instead I went into his room as soon as I got home and went 'THE INTERVIEWS WENT WELL. BY THE WAY WHO ARE THE PEOPLE WHO YOU LIKE AND HATE AT WORK.' which inevitably triggered a guessing game which. is just asking 'is [name] sound' with extra steps

(they are, evidently, as good as they seemed)

(which is lucky. already finalised my scoring so.)