#hoarded niceties | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angsty-twihardxx · 1 year

Note

heyy victoriaaa!!

i was reading thru your tommy masterlist (because i'm just craving good tommy content) and an idea popped in my head.

if you're taking requests/concepts in, maybe you could do a tommy x reader where reader is shy and "innocent", but to their friend (insert random name) they talk about how badly reader wants to "save a horse, ride a cowboy" w/ tommy miller, and juuust as reader finishes saying that, tommy hears it, so he just spends a week teasing + seducing reader, until she does something about it (maybe tease him right back)

JUST AN IDEA I THOUGHT YOU'D ENJOY! 🤫

MICHELLE—!! Your very much correct because I did in fact enjoy! ❤️

Warning: 18++ (minors y’all better get outta here I stg) smut, PnV. Tommy being such a tease, but it’s okay you get him back.

AN: y’all voted for smut on the poll so I provide, come get y’all juice <3

P.s teehee imagine him looking up at you like this when your riding him 🫣

SUCH A TEASE | T.MILLER

Springtime in Jackson had a lot of benefits, like more animals to be hunted, better harvest with lots of different types of crops which made for better food. The only downside, for you at least was how more precise patrols had to be. When the weather was warmer meant a higher possibility for infected and poachers. Which unfortunately for you meant that Tommy was out slot longer than you would like.

It was nearing ten at night when Tommy, Joel and the others finally arrived back home from patrol. Being stuck dealing with hoards of infected, it came to be no surprise that all he wanted to do was come home and see you.

After packing away his horse and gun, Tommy began his walk down to the Main Street. When it came to you staying up late for him to come home, which was alot more often as of late— Tommy knew exactly where you would be waiting for him.

Down inside the Tipsy Bison you were currently leaning against the bar along with one of your girlfriends, who came to keep you company. You were grateful that she stopped by because you always had the tendency to worry whenever Tommy would, your mind would flip through every worst scenario in your head like a good book. But Louise knew how to distract you, which apparently was by telling you her latest late night rendezvous with a particular coworker of yours.

“Okay Lou, please spare me the details. I’m working with him tomorrow morning and I don’t want to be traumatised.” You giggled, the few drinks the two of you drank together were already beginning to have its effect.

Absently your eyes drifted towards the saloon doors, your boyfriend still nowhere in sight. Sadly no amount of alcohol could ease your worries when it came to Tommy, the man was headstrong— which wasn’t always a good thing. “Hey I’m sure he’s okay.” Louise squeezed your hand reassuringly, despite your bubbly personality, she could still see how worried you were. “Now c’mon enough about me and more about you.”

Tommy smiled when the sound of your laughter filled his ears, after being gone all day all he wanted to do was spend the rest of his night with you. He felt bad, as of late he had been gone out on patrol longer than he was home with you. As he walked up behind you though, he was not expecting his hears to perk up at the mention of his name.

“Oh my God! You're worse than me! Does Tommy know about this?” Louise exclaimed hysterically,

“No-no but it's a thing I swear, I heard it's a saying. ‘Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

Tommy couldn’t help but raise his brows in surprise, you never mentioned such interests to him before, his sweet innocent baby had a dirty little secret.

His mind instantly flooded him with images of you bucking your hips on top of him, his hands gripping on your warm velvet skin. The moans that would fall out of your mouth as you rolled on top of him as you reached your orgasm.

“Hey Tommy!” Louise called out to him, her pestilential voice rang through his ears. He returned her wave with a painful smile for the sake of niceties.

Your head quickly spun around to look behind you, the man you had been worrying about for the past couple of hours was standing behind you with a wide smile. “Had me worried for a second there.” You mumbled against his denim jacket, his muscly arms engulfing you into his chest. Everything felt perfect again now that you knew he was back safe with you.

"Sorry darlin.” He spoke softly as he kissed your hair, taking in your scent. A quiet groan falling from his mouth but luckily for him it was far too loud for you to hear. Tommy really couldn’t believe that you were hiding this little secret from him, especially one that he was quite fond of.

Tommy had a plan to get it out of you though, that was for sure.

. . .

You had no idea what your boyfriend was up to but you didn’t know how much more you could take. Since that night out with Louise he had been nothing but an absolute tease, and he knew what he was doing. He was always a flirt but he had taken it to a whole new level. His hands wandered more than usual, he flirted way more than he usually would.

What would usually be a quick peck in the morning before work, turned into a steamy kiss with his hands gripping onto your ass; making it absolutely infuriating when he’d pull away with some bullshit excuse. Leaving you high and dry, it was driving you insane!

The morning after your night out with Louise he got you as far as a writhing hot mess with both of your lips locked onto each other, only stopping to take gasps for air. You moaned against his mouth, as his tongue danced against yours. Arousal begins to pool in between your legs as he drops his warm kisses down to the nape of your neck, every now and again sucking on the soft skin.

“S-shit Tommy.” You let out a broken moan, your fingers gripped onto his crimson curls. Tommy couldn’t help the playful smile when an evil idea popped into his head, lifting his lips away from you.

No words left your mouth as it fell agape, your eyes looking up at his confused. “Why don’t you take what you want sweetheart?” Tommy whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. For a moment you stood still in shock, never had he just plainly offered up the power to you like this. You had no idea what to do so instead you sat beside him frozen, noticing the devilish grin on his face.

“I-I dont–” Your head shook in confusion as you stuttered, this wasn’t the first time he had you lost for words like this. Tommy was a flirt, just as bad as he was the night he met you.

“It’s okay baby, why don’t you get ready for work? Wouldn’t want you to be late.” He gave you a chaste kiss on the lips before getting up from the spot beside you on the sofa and moving to the kitchen to make your coffee for the morning. Tommy wasn’t able to wipe the smile off his face as he thought about how wet you’d be all day thanks to him. Maybe you would give in quicker than he thought.

. . .

The next time was a few days after when he informed you that Joel invited the two of you to his home with Ellie for dinner, which you were elated about. Maybe if you were with the company of his brother, Tommy might actually calm down. You were beginning to get agitated with your lack of orgasm in the past couple of days, Tommy was the biggest tease and you didn’t know how long you could hold on.

You figured that he was surely finished with whatever game he was playing.

Well, that was what you thought until you arrived home and moved straight to your shared bedroom to get ready, and out waltzed Tommy in nothing but a towel wrapped around his toned torso. You froze because of course you did, he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

The muscles in his arms flexed as he brushed his teeth but your eyes fixated on his hands, you wondered what he would do with them if you rode him. If he would run them through your hair and pull on the ends so he could leave purple marks on the soft skin of your neck. Or if he would wrap his hands around your neck, taking the air straight out of your lungs.

His hair was still wet, beads of water dripped from his curls onto his bronzed shoulders. The faint remnants of how close you got to getting him the way you wanted only a few days ago. Red scratches lavished his olive skin like an artist's signature on a painting. A sense of pride washed over you with the thought of him taking his shirt off during the hot days in Jackson, how he loved the idea of everyone knowing you were his and vice versa.

You were so busy admiring the man in front of you that you didn’t even realise his eyes on you. When Tommy offered you a wide smile you quickly adverted your gaze, pretending your eyes weren’t just greedily glued to the raven hair path that stopped at the top of his towel. Your cheeks reddened as you turned to get changed, ignoring the pulsating yearning feeling you had to take him right here. Dinner be damned!

Tommy knew that his plan was working from the way you always avoided his gaze when he’d catch you watching him. He was driving you crazy and he knew it, he loved catching you in the act. How flustered and embarrassed you’d get. You wanted him just as much as he needed you.

He had you exactly where he wanted you.

Tommy couldn’t for the life of him, stop thinking about you. His teeth pressed against his knuckles, his eyes would glance back at you as you would speak. His usually soft caramel eyes were nearly black as he undressed you with his eyes. Those devilish denim shorts that were driving him wild, he wanted your thighs wrapped around his waist as he drilled into you. Fuck he needed his hands on you.

You jumped the second Tommy’s hand reached over to graze along the soft skin of your thigh, the two of you sitting beside each other at Joel’s home. Surely he wasn’t going to try anything with his brother and Eillie in the same room? His thumb kneaded your skin as he kept his eyes on Joel, the two of them engrossed in conversation.

You tried to ignore the arousal that was pooling in your underwear, his rough fingers danced dangerously close against the end of your shorts. Silently, you cursed the hot weather for giving your boyfriend the upper hand. Without warning he nonchalantly extended his arm so his pinky grazed against the soft fabric of your underwear.

With a shocked gasp you turned to face him, with eyebrows raised you stared at him I’m disbelief. Tommy only smiled in return as he knocked down the last of his whiskey, sending a wink your way.

‘Oh two could play that game’ You thought to yourself as you stood up, excusing yourself and making your way to the bathroom. You had an idea up your sleeve, for the perfect payback for teasing you all week.

Now it was his turn.

“Y’alright baby?” Tommy teased in your ear as you took your seat beside him, thinking he was getting you all roused up.

Little did he know.

Joel had called Ellie to help him with dessert, this was the perfect time for you to get your revenge. You returned him with an smile, nodding innocently has you placed your hand in his.

Tommy almost felt bad for teasing you all week, especially with small intimate moments like this. When you were happy with something so small, finding comfort just having his larger hands envelope yours. Key word being ‘almost’, moving your hand into your lap Tommy looked down to see what you left in his palm.

Your fucken underwear.

Quickly he stuffed the thin material into his pockets as he covered the smirk off his face with his hand. He was going to get you back for that one.

Dinner couldn’t have finished quicker, the two of you swiftly say your goodbyes to both Joel and Ellie before making your way home in the dark. Your hand instinctively reached out for Tommy’s, which he took before pulling you into his chest. “Pretty good trick you pulled in there.” He mumbled into your hair, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You feigned ignorance, enjoying how the roles were reversed, now it was you that was driving Tommy insane.

As soon as the two of you were in the warm confides of your home Tommy's mouth latched onto yours, pushing till your back came into contact with the wall. You returned him the same amount of desperation, a whole week you had been waiting—you didn’t want to wait any longer. Both of your tongues fought for dominance as you groaned back into him.

“You’re going to be the death of me, women.” Tommy groaned against your mouth, his hot breath fanned against your mouth. “Could say the same for you, y’don’t think I know what you're up to?” You gasped in between touch-starved kisses, it felt like you had been waiting since forever for this moment.

“What was it you were sayin’ the other day to Louise? Telling your friend your dirty little secrets but not your boyfriend.” He tsked, shaking his head as his hands cupped your cheek, almost studying your face to see your reaction. “You heard that?” Your voice jumped, you knew you shouldn’t care. But a part of you worried with the thought of your boyfriend knowing your sexual desires.

“Yeah, n’here I thought you were all innocent, keeping dirty secrets from me.” Instantly you felt your cheeks redden in embarrassment, Tommy actually heard you that night and your drunken rambles. “I–I didn’t–” You stuttered but Tommy quickly shushed you, “I didn’t say it was a bad thing darlin’.” His Texan accent sends chills down your spine.

“Stop talking.” You breathed against his mouth, silencing him by sliding your tongue back into his. “You’ve been teasing me all week, I think it’s only fair if I get what I want.” The fingers you laced through his hair tugged just enough on his curls, a surprised gasp fell from his lips. “Yes ma'am.” Tommy drawled, feeling the blood rushing down in between his legs. Even though he hadn’t yet admit it to you, he loved it when you took control. Since he heard about your secret desire, he couldn’t stop thinking about you riding him and now it was finally happening. He felt like the luckiest man on earth,

Tommy dropped down onto the sofa, shimmying his jeans off in anticipation. His cock springing to life, your eyes instantly glued to the angry red tip that glistened under the light. Standing in front of him you made quick work throwing off your shorts and leaping onto Tommy’s lap. You wasted no time lining yourself up and slowly inching yourself down his thick shaft, a moan falling from your lips as you stretched around his cock.

Your cunt swallowed him eagerly as you started to rock your hips, his cock hitting all the right places. Once you had eventually adjusted to his size you picked up your pace, occasionally lifting your hip to then slide back down to his pelvis. “O-oh shit baby.” Tommy let out a shuddered breath as his head fell back onto the sofa. You felt a sense of pride, seeing how quickly you could render him speechless.

As you grinded into him the familiar arousal began pooling in the pit of your stomach. Tommy teased you all week, getting you so close to climax without you actually orgasming— you weren’t going to last long. And by the gasping mess that was Tommy, you knew he wasn’t going to as well.

Tommy's hands then clasped onto the soft flesh of your hips, you already knew his death grip was going to leave marks—Tommy was a sucker for letting everyone know who belonged to.

Suddenly you were lifted up, only to be slammed back down at a bruising pace. A loud slapping sounds echoes in the room as your thighs collide with his hips, your mouth fell open as you felt his cock hit the top of your cervix.

“Shit Tommy—" you mewled into Tommy's shoulders as you used your momentum to bounce on top of him. You clenched your eyes shut only being able to focus on how perfectly Tommy filled you up, feeling your orgasm fast approaching. “M’gonna come!” You whined as your body trembled, the tight knot in your stomach finally releasing as your orgasm washed over you.

“Oh fuck yeah baby—“ Tommy groaned into you as his dick twitched inside you, with his fingers still dug into your skin he sunk you back down with a bruising force. The two of you caught your breath in each other’s embrace, your hip still twitching as you felt him coating your walls. Neither one of you dared to move. “Holy shit.” You sighed out of breath, slight amusement in your voice.

“Baby, you gotta promise me to do that more often.”

#Tommy miller #tommy miller fanfic #tommy miller smut #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x y/n #tommy miller x female reader #tommy miller tlou #tommy miller fic #gabriel luna #gabriel luna x reader

388 notes · View notes

cassynite · 6 months

Text

Look guys! I can still write!

Done for Owlcatober's prompts 4: Luck and 22: Nobility. Have some very early Sparrow and Daeran interactions :)

Sparrow had been very lucky, all things considered. Lucky to have found an artificer who might help with the problem prickling at the base of her neck. Lucky that he was willing to meet with her, to undo a Cheliaxian tracking brand for the right price. Lucky to have survived whatever attack had given her the ever-bleeding wound on her chest, as well as the demonic attack that tore the city in two afterwards.

She's no believer in fate, but luck is chance, a die cast to fall on the six. Though it's random, the patterns in the chaos can be a comfort, even if the comfort is a lie. Sparrow is used to hoarding the moments of good luck she receives, counting them out like coins and budgeting them the same way, stretching out the hope they offer as far as it can go. The string of good events can give her the strength to push on past the bad ones--that she is trapped in a burning city under demonic siege to begin with, that the man who had offered her salvation is very likely dead.

All streaks of luck must come to an end, however, the pattern returning to random chance once more. And Sparrow finds the end of hers in a broken banquet hall, staring at the one man who might destroy the last remnants of her plans to escape with just a few simple words.

In retrospect, Sparrow should have anticipated the complication. When the liveried footman who had begged for the help of her and her companions mentioned the surname "Arendae," Sparrow had recognized it from the snatches of conversation she regularly overheard during her mandatory appearance at Mendevian court functions. Old family, old blood, royally inclined, marked in tragedy.

But the Count Arendae, known for his raucous parties and and his disregard for social norms, lived in Kenabres, and his time in Nerosyan was filled with events Sparrow rarely attended. They'd crossed paths, but briefly, and the incidents were of so little note Sparrow barely remembered them.

However, after the demons are left bleeding on the floor of a party that had been going well into the destruction of the city, the glittering aasimar who had fought instead of cowered steps forward with a cold green gaze that focuses on her immediately out of the group, and Sparrow realizes that she had miscalculated. She might have only barely remembered him, but he somehow remembered her as well, and recognizes who she is.

The count gives an elaborate bow. "Greetings, valiant stranger who has just burst into my life. I am master of this house, Count Daeran Kael 'Myriad-Mellifluous-Monikers' Arendae. No need to introduce yourself--"

I already recall the last time we met in Nerosyan, Lady Evaethi, Sparrow hears, and steps forward before the count can finish his sentence. "I am called Sparrow." The words come out a little too forceful.

The count raises a single golden brow, amused and condescending all at once. "--As I was saying, I find insignificant details such as the names of passing acquaintances a bore." He gives her a mocking smile and says nothing else about the matter, not even as the rest of her companions begin to make comments. It doesn't ease the tension ready to break Sparrow's spine; she's on the knife's edge of this conversation, and the count can turn the blade whenever he likes. He knows it, too, judging by the looks he gives her as he trades insults with Lann about his curtains.

"Now that we're finished with the niceties," the count finally says, "tell me--how did all these thrice-damned demons end up at my soiree?"

There is a pause where someone needs to answer, and doesn't. Sparrow can feel the others' gazes on her, crawling on her skin--she'll never get used to this, the way that the people she fights with cede the space to her to answer the questions, take charge. She never asked for it, did less than nothing to imply she wanted it or was qualified for the role, and yet the righteous paladin, the savvy hunter, the sharp-tongued noble, they all look to her to be their leader.

When she answers, her words are stilted and blunt. "Demons attacked the city. Kenabres is in ruins." There's a murmur of shock, not from the count but from the other party attendants. Sparrow had almost forgotten they were there.

"I wanted to ask if you were joking, but what little expression you have tells me you are not." He turns his attention to the curtains he had just been inviting Lann to blow his nose on, seeing the telltale flicking light of raging fire through the gaps in the velvet.

The conversation turns away from Sparrow, letting her step back as her companions trade verbal blows with the count--Seelah in half-amused disapproval at the count's callous lack of regard for the situation at hand, Camellia making unsubtle hints to the count's terrible childhood losses as if it were ever an appropriate thing to bring up, and Ember successfully disarming the count's barbed tongue if only for a second by her genuine distress at the thought that the count could not have a lamb as a pet.

The entire time, though, she feels the count's attention never truly leave her. Paranoia, perhaps, but he knows, he has to be asking questions about how and why, and even if he isn't questioning her identity now in front of her companions, that doesn't mean he won't. He could just be waiting for the right moment, the perfect time to strike--Sparrow's impression of him in Nerosyan had been vague, but his defining feature had been his propensity for cruelty as entertainment.

She wanted away from the count and his malice as quickly as possible, so she finally gathers the courage to step forward, addressing the room at large. "The Defender's Heart has been fortified under the Eagle Watch. It should be safe."

The other drunken nobles and poor servants at this revel take Sparrow's flat statement as the call to action it's meant to be, gathering in groups and approaching Seelah, who is more than happy to provide help and instructions on safe passages to the tavern. But the count doesn't turn his attention from Sparrow.

"I thank you dearly for the invitation," he gives another mocking bow, "but I am not quite as desperate as I may seem. In fact, I do feel like stretching my legs. I know rudimentary divine spells, I am no friend to demons, and I elevate any society that I deign to grace with my presence. I shall accompany you--only for a short time, of course. I have no desire to remain at the vanguard for a protracted period. What say you, my ephemeral but highly diverting acquaintance? After all, Lord Deskari spoiled my party. I now burn with the desire to spoil his."

Highly diverting acquaintance. He's laughing under the thick coat of false sincerity. She wants to tell him no, but she can't afford to. The city is burning to ash around them, and no matter the count's true intentions, she saw what he did to the demons in that fight. They need all the help they can get.

She gives a small, shallow nod, half-hoping the count doesn't see her acquiesce.

Of course, he does. "Capital. Good acquaintances that begin and end at just the right moment often leave the most pleasant memories, wouldn't you say?"

Sparrow ruminates on his words for a long time after, as they continue to claw their way through the demons in the Market Square and try to collect information and allies for the assault on the Gray Garrison. Did he mean to imply that their 'acquaintanceship' beginning at that moment meant he would not bring up her past? Or was it a veiled threat of some kind, the mention of memories an indication that he remembers her and will bring it up if she crosses him? She wouldn't even need to cross him, really; the count is notorious for destroying livelihoods and reputations out of boredom.

By the time the crew returns to the Defender's Heart for a much-needed rest and restocking, Sparrow decided to confront him about it. She hates the thought of it, but it needs dragged out in the open. Regardless of how it resolves, she will at least know where she stands, what to anticipate from him. She cannot continue with him as an unknown factor.

She finds the count near the sleeping quarters Irabeth insisted Sparrow still use, somehow having managed to snag one of the nicest chairs in the place. He's quiet, watching the survivors trying to create order out of the chaos of their situation: groups of injured and war-shocked civilians resting in clumps across the floor or consulting with a haggard Vissaliy and his assistant; the Eagle Watch and other soldiers discussing plans with shadowed gazes, or bartering with Gemyl for ale to drown the world out with; Irabeth grimly going over the assault plan with Anevia on the other side of the room; the Storyteller, still recovering from his burns, resting nearby; the rest of their companions, talking or preparing or simply sleeping. The count's expression is blank, and Sparrow wonders what he's thinking of, what story he is making out of the disorder.

Then his attention catches on her approach, and his eyes hood in disdain, a familiar mocking smirk spreading across his face. It's strange, the abruptness of it; Sparrow is reminded of a performer stepping out from the shadows into the spotlight of a stage.

"I must commend the crusade's choice on an outpost," he comments as Sparrow nears. "The very sight of these walls brings back such fond memories of drinks and revels."

Sparrow stops, the rehearsed opener she'd planned to drag out his intentions disappearing in an instant. "...I don't believe they had a choice," she says, wrong-footed. "It was the best available option at the time."

"So you plan on migrating all and sundry if a better symbol of shelter comes along then? A nice Iomadean cathedral would do nicely, I imagine. Though if I were a demon I would burn those down first."

Sparrow opens her mouth, then closes it. Finally, she says, "It wouldn't be up to me either way."

"Would it not? I'd taken from this endeavor that you're the banner these stalwart defenders are rallying behind, what with that angelic sword you can pull out. Where does it go, anyway, when you aren't talking down fanatical zealots from murdering supposed traitors?"

Sparrow looks away. She doesn't know--she doesn't know why she's able to wield a sword meant to burn mortals, or where it goes when it's not there other than in reach when she needs it. She doesn't know why the scar on her chest still bleeds, throbbing in pain, or what anyone in this tavern sees in her that makes them think she can appropriately lead anything. It's a yawning chasm of uncertainty she's been doing her best to ignore up until this point. She has no answers and no solutions, so there's no point in tackling it. At least, not until the immediate threat has been taken care of.

If the count expected an actual answer from her, he mercifully doesn't act like it. Resting his cheek in one long-fingered hand, he regards her with a catlike slyness, like he's silently laughing at a joke. "I shall admit, I did not quite expect to see you favor a celestially gifted weapon. Forgive me if I am incorrect in my understanding of your culture, but you prefer more...infernal sources of power, do you not?"

Sparrow lets the barb fly by painlessly; his misplaced insult is as good an opening as any. "About that. I would be grateful if you did not mention my...past...in front of others."

"But my lady, how could I deny a woman of such fine breeding as yourself the respect you deserve?" His smirk grows wider at whatever he sees on Sparrow's face. "To find the mouse of Nerosyan among these ruins was quite the surprise, and with such a different title than before--I would gently suggest changing your name, if you are open to constructive criticism. It's embarrassing to me to think that you picked such a moniker of your own free will."

Sparrow's hands find each other, fingers interlocking tightly together. "I have left that life behind me. What would you want to do the same?"

"Are you trying to bribe me?" The count barks out a delighted laugh. "This is straight out of some paltry penny novel--what are you even planning to offer? Money?" He laughs again, like that's the funniest thing in the world. "Or, what, your virtue or some other such nonsense?"

Sparrow stares until the laughter dies down, the mirth draining from the count's features. Finally, he scoffs and turns away from her silence.

"You really are the most tedious woman alive, aren't you," he mutters. "Let me be blunt: I could not care less what shade of youthful rebellion has led you to renouncing your identity and playacting a pauper. If you wish to be named after a bird, I will not stop you--go forth and chirp as you wish."

"You would swear to that?" Sparrow presses, and immediately regrets it. The emotion that flickers across the count's face is cold and snakelike, and it takes all of Sparrow's willpower not to rear back.

"I would not force some kind of oath from me, if I were you." The count's smile is poisonous. "I would feel the urge to break it out of spite. You will simply have to take my word, as-is, that whatever little mess you are wading through is not consequential enough for me to bother with during the brief acquaintanceship we must endure. Now, do you have anything of actual interest to say, or is this topic finished? I'm sure there are far more entertaining subjects to actually speak of."

At Sparrow's silence, the count continues on, though his gaze remains glass-sharp and watchful. "Perhaps you would like to hear of some of my own youthful exploits then? Those always do well among the highborn sort--not that you'd know anything about that, as I understand it."

When Sparrow finally escapes the conversation some time later, she is certain that Count Daeran Arendae is a cruel, childish, and capricious man, but that he was almost certainly honest when he told her he didn't care about her secrets--he is far too self-absorbed to give a whit about anything that doesn't directly concern him.

It seems that Sparrow's luck has held out after all.

#cassy writes #pathfinder wrath of the righteous #pwotr #wotr #daeran arendae #oc: sparrow #you can immediately tell what's canon dialogue and what's made up but this was a lot of fun regardless #pwotr pals

27 notes · View notes

dragimal · 4 months

Text

Fixing Fontaine

as a continuation of my Fontaine review, I'd like to suggest my personal fixes for the biggest fuck-ups in Fontaine

1) Catacombs and Wrio

at worst, the Fortress should have been treated the same way prison is treated in the other nations-- that is, it exists, but we're not gonna dig into it.

but I get why Hoyo was so interested in prison for the nation of "Justice" so Fontaine's narrative could still involve the prison system. but obviously it should be a critique of the prison system, and the idea of "justice" used as a punitive measure rather than a way to seek fairness and equality in society. and in that case, not much time should be spent in the prison bc it's, y'know, fucking awful, and players would hate it there, once the forcefully-positive veneer is pulled off of it.

so here's my suggestion for an alternate setting for the 4.1 archon quest: Catacombs!

it feels so obvious to me, the catacombs are a rly unique, well-know bit of French culture, why not throw them into Fontaine? it could even be an extension of the steampunk theme going on in other underground areas, like Poisson, but it gets even darker and more morbid the further down you go. hell, this could be the setting related to the Primordial Sea-- instead of exiles creating their own "prison", they create their own networks of tunnels to survive in, and eventually discover a connection to the Primordial Sea. maybe religions and cults have grown around this discovery, idk

and here we could meet a sort of underground/criminal culture, with gangs and factions of various sorts. I could very easily picture meeting Wriothesley as one of the gang leaders-- intimidating and clearly deadly. but then as we learn more abt him, it turns out he really doesn't consider himself the head honcho, and kinda just does his own thing. many ppl in the catacombs have just gathered behind him cus' he's so tough and capable. he kind of hates the attention, but he can't rly do anything abt it, so he might as well use them as he needs.

in either case, Wrio and the ppl who follow him run an underground network of safe havens and services, protecting accused persons from Gardes, smuggling goods/services into/out of the prison, and hoarding prisoner assets until their release. they rarely try to break inmates out of prison due to the high stakes, but have attempted it a few times-- in particular, Wrio and co. try to help Traveler break in to find Childe, only to find he's missing (they don't know he's missing beforehand, in this version).

Wrio also runs an underground fight club for funsies <3

perhaps Wrio and co. even have dealings with the Spina di Rosula? I can picture Spina as one of the more "respectable" gangs, according to above-ground Fontaine-- they work through the courts, after all! Spina straddles the line between the above and underground just enough that they don't find themselves at odds with the Gardes. but if they help with Wrio's services of prison smuggling and inmate protection, then no one needs to know that~ Wrio doesn't mind serving as the scapegoat for the more criminal activities the Spina may find themselves helping with-- above-ground has already painted him as the bad guy, so he'll just play the part

thus, Wrio is no longer a pawn of the state, but a much more respectable leader imo. he sees himself providing the protection and services he was denied in his hour of need as a youth-- if the state won't protect you, Wrio will. I wouldn't even mind him being a smug bastard in this situation, I'd LOVE to see this Wrio giving Gardes lip

2) Furina

instead of bulldozing over her trauma and forcing her to act again, Furina's story quest SHOULD have focused on self-acceptance and self-confidence.

namely, I think Furina should have been re-introduced to the world. all that Furina really knows of the world is acting-- acting for social niceties, acting as an art, and acting for survival. it's a very narrow world view, and it's tragic to think that she knows so little else of the big wide world.

Traveler picks up on this, and being rather worldly, thinks they know exactly what to do. in this version, Traveler is written to be far more understanding of Furina's situation-- no more mocking her house or depression meals. but that doesn't mean Traveler may not approach this situation a bit too... eagerly

I'm picturing Traveler pulling Furina out of the house, insisting that she needs to see more of the world (or at least, more of Fontiane) than she's been able to see from the limited scope of the stage. bundling Furina in disguises so she's not recognized, Traveler takes her to experience more remote areas-- fishing at the beach, painting up in the mountains, etc.

and throughout this journey, as they pass by the city or Palais Mermonia, they keep running into Neuvillette. he and Furina keep acting awkward around one another, though it's unclear to Traveler why.

and Traveler's trying so hard to show Furina the world, that they don't notice that Furina's getting a bit overwhelmed with everything, and she's trying to tell them to slow down. Furina gets fed up, and runs off back home, and Traveler thinks they failed.

Traveler walks the streets of the city for a bit, trying to think of how to approach Furina, when they bump into Neuvillette again. after discussing the situation, Neuvillette makes a suggestion-- one that Traveler readily agrees to, pulling Neuvillette along. he and Traveler grab the supplies they need-- with perhaps a few pointers from Navia, at Traveler's suggestion-- and return to Furina's house.

Furina opens her door to Traveler and Neuvillette holding a precarious stack of cooking/backing items, and Traveler begging for them to be let in. Furina begrudgingly allows it, her "haughty" mask back in place as she demands to know why they're bothering her at her home.

Traveler says they have just one more activity planned, if Furina is willing. having learned their lesson, Traveler merely waves their hand at the baking supplies, waiting for Furina's response. Furina, a little dazed, picks through the supplies and asks, "Just... baking?"

"Just baking," Traveler replies, Neuvillette nodding along.

"Ok... if it's just baking," and Furina's quiet voice shifts to one of confident bravado, "Then I'd be happy to teach you two a thing or two about the fine art of pastries! Hand me a mixing bowl!"

it turns out, eating pastries for 500 years is not quite the same as baking pastries for 500 years. Furina and Neuvillette both end up fumbling several steps, covering themselves in flour and sugar, and Traveler has to come to the rescue with their advanced cooking skills.

it's only once they're all finally enjoying their pastries-- some a little more wonky than others-- that they all begin to really talk.

Traveler apologizes for overwhelming Furina-- they just wanted Furina to know that the world is so much bigger than she's been allowed to see. but as a traveler, they're used to seeing many people and places in a day, and forgot that not everyone is made for that.

Furina playfully turns her nose up at Traveler, "I suppose I can find it in my divine heart to forgive you. After all, I am a kind and just Arc-- or. Person, now. I am a kind and just person."

"That you are," Neuvillette agrees.

Neuvillette apologizes for not checking in on Furina more, and explains his own fears of not understanding her. he's not human, after all, and still doesn't believe he fully understands human emotions. and after all this time, does he even really know Furina? does he deserve to even call her a friend, when he couldn't see the pain she was in, and judged her seemingly "childish" character so harshly?

Furina reaches for Neuvillette's hands as the sky darkens with rain outside the window, gripping them with a strength she hasn't shown in many days, "Neuvillete, you couldn't have known-- I didn't want you to know. That was the whole point, it all would have failed if I had slipped up even once."

"But perhaps, if I had thought to ask--"

"I would have lied. And nothing would have changed."

Neuvillette shakes his head-- he has no response to that.

Furina giggles a little hysterically, "And all this time, I thought you hated me!"

"Hated you?" Neuvillette looks stunned

"All I've ever done is annoy you-- don't deny it, it's true. And now I have the face of the Archon who... who forced you to watch her demise. What have I even done for Fontaine, really? All I did was sit there and cry. Surely, I'm only a reminder of terrible moments--"

Neuvillette stands abruptly, gripping Furina by the shoulders and looking straight into her eyes, "Lady Furina, you are nothing short of a hero. You sacrificed every moment of your time and happiness for a people you barely knew at the start, and have only grown to love them, even in your most painful moments. Your will and courage is beyond comparison, and I only hope to serve as half the Sovereign that you served as Archon to this nation."

Furina's eyes fill with tears as she throws her arms around Neuvillette's shoulders, laughing with relief, "S-stop calling me 'Lady'! I'm just Furina now. Only Furina."

Neuvillette stands stunned for a moment (has he ever hugged anyone before?), before returning the embrace, "As you wish, Furina. Just know that in my heart, you will always be this nation's Lady."

Traveler thinks to themself that perhaps the Furina and Neuvillette understand each other better than they realize.

and it is in this moment, where Furina's wants and needs come first, where her closest friends have provided her a safe place to release her worries, where she has finally made something for herself with her own hands--

that her Vision flashes into existence, twinkling with inner light. Furina reaches for it with wonder, wondering what she's even done to deserve it.

but Neuvillette and Traveler know, and now they have all the time in the world to convince Furina why.

3) Nicer Traveler

I think the above section covers Furina's treatment, but just, make Traveler (+ Paimon) be nicer to Lyney and Lynette? it's not even that hard of a fix, just stop giving Traveler weird double-standards towards different Fatui. Traveler is literally friends with Childe "war crimes" Tartaglia, c'mon

4) Melusines

the Melusines in my head are Actual Slugs and are treated like a genuinely different species who are also people instead of infantilized toddlers. that's it

#sorry parts of this accidentally turned into fix-it fic #shut up ashley #genshin impact #fontaine genshin

7 notes · View notes

fettesans · 9 months

Text

Left, Mona Hatoum, Bourj III, 2011, Mild steel tubing, 180 x 80 x 55 cm. Via. More. Right, Matias Faldbakken, Parts Cabinet, 2013, metal cabinet, plastic bins, screws, bolts miscellaneous, 200 x 70,5 x 37cm. Via. More.

In popular culture we have “the bachelor pad,” and “the bachelor lifestyle,” but no such phrases for women. Women who live alone are objects of fear or pity, witches in the forest or Cathy comics. Even the current cultural popularity of female friendship still speaks to how unwilling we all are to accept women without a social framework; a woman who’s “alone” is a woman who’s having brunch with a bunch of other women. When a woman is truly alone, it is the result of a crisis—she is grieving, has lost something, is a problem to be fixed. The family, that fundamental social unit, dwells within the female body and emanates from it. Women are the anchors of social labor, the glue pulling the family, and then the community, together with small talk and good manners and social niceties. Living alone as a woman is not just a luxury but a refusal to bend into the shape of patriarchal assumption and expectation. (...)

I cleaned my apartment when no one was coming over, and cooked elaborate meals with no guests in mind but myself. I began to learn to say “no” to things, to define space for myself. I considered decisions longer, and hurt people less. With no one else’s needs into which to escape, it becomes much more difficult to skid through life on self-delusion and comfortable ignorance. Living alone is a confrontation with the mirror, a removal, if only for certain hours of the day, from the social contract, outside the systems of manners that grow up around women like strangling vines. It is becoming the witch in the forest, powerful and watchful and silent, setting visitors on edge. (...)

Living alone is a reminder that we can make our bodies antisocial, hoarding our selfishness and our silence. Loneliness and solitude are privileges of thoughtless and full-throated adulthood traditionally handed to men and kept from women. They are the strange and rich pleasures of the world beyond the social, beyond the structures of home and family.

Helena Fitzgerald, from The Fierce Triumph of Loneliness, for Catapult, May 18, 2016.

#diptych #reoccurrence #linked excerpts

2 notes · View notes

pazodetrasalba · 7 months

Text

Poisoned chalices

Dear Caroline:

This anonymous question you were made seems, at the very least, impertinent. The again, almost any topic of discussion is fair game amongst Rationalists, as well as doing away with social niceties, it seems. If one were trying to be charitable, perhaps the question is just meant to express some surprise at your choices, given that Rationalists are (in)famous for the poly stuff.

Still feels like you are being offered a poisoned chalice from which you are supposed to drink, and that you were very good at feinting it.

At the time you wrote this post you hadn't as yet read Heinrich's book which, among other things, does make a case for the effectiveness of monogamy as a social tool to minimize female hoarding and violent/angry young men, but I imagine you would have found these sorts of arguments elsewhere -the redpills included-, along with further pragmatic perks of having only one partner, like stability for child-rearing (and, by extension, for society), economic cooperation, paternity certainty and disease mitigation.

I haven't had a chance to read any Evolutionary Psychology yet (I have Geoffrey Miller's "The Mating Mind: How Sexual Choice Shaped the Evolution of Human Nature" in the waiting-to-be-read list), but have been sown seeds of distrust on the scientific credentials of the whole area: Massimo Pigliucci takes every oportunity that comes his way to lambast it in The Rationalist Podcast (starting hearing it a few months ago; I do some things besides reading, especially while driving to work...).

Quote:

Historically, humans did not begin to put up with lifelong marriage until they could no longer live off the land, property inheritance became the key to children's survival, and couples had economic incentives to continue cooperating long after they were no longer on speaking terms.

Geoffrey Miller

#caroline ellison #evolutionary psychology

0 notes

violetren · 2 years

Text

Transistor Chapter 21

She’d been convinced the place would be like something out of Downton Abbey. Instead, from what she could see, the place was simple, modern, and minimalistic.

Eurion might be a little slow (damn near disinterested) in picking up modern social constructs and niceties (she is improving though) but that doesn't mean she's not gonna take advantage of any advances in comfort.

And I'm not surprised the foyer looks minimalistic, you don't keep your hoard at the front door, you put it back behind a few more lines of defense.

← Prev - Next →

#transistor spoilers #transistor #eurion #naomi woodward #fantasy #trans fiction #sapphic fiction #speculative fiction #sci fi #queer fiction #lgbt fiction

0 notes

gazelessmenagerie · 3 years

Note

My god...your art is *chef's kiss* FABULOUS!!!

( okay honestly i was holding onto this one bc it gave me a dosage of happiness every time looked at it and im sorry i only answered it now. )

#|| Tag: OOC #|| Tag: Kuro the Eternal (Bastard)#|| Tag: Kuro's Treasure Hoard #( hLKFSJFDJG look. im like a dragon. a very anxious dragon. )#( i just keep hold of things that make me happy ahflsdjjgngj )#( but thank u so much for sending this ;3; i hope your days have been wonderful )#( fnlkjg I JUST FIGURED I'D ADD IT TO THE NICETIES ;3; )

0 notes

gentlemen-of-fortune · 2 years

Text

we are all love treasure planet, of course, but one of my favorite divergences from the original text is that the majority of flint's hoard is lost forever when the planet self-destructs.

that shot of silver grasping at this river of gold and jewels slipping through his fingers - both flesh and metal - underscores the themes of loss and sacrifice in the movie so beautifully.

(gif by @gothamcity)

and the thing is, both treasure planet and rls' book are meant to be fun, coming-of-age adventure stories for kids, but while the on-screen deaths in treasure planet pale in comparison to those in the book, it's treasure planet that ends up feeling more mature, and that's due in part to how it addresses loss, sacrifice, and grief.

in the book, jim's father, whom he says he loves deeply, dies in the first act, followed shortly by billy bones. jim finds himself grieving for both men, but little of that emotion is effectively passed to the reader. we're not invested in these characters, and their deaths feel like tools to move the plot and little more.

treasure planet, conversely, in a similarly short amount of time within the scope of the narrative, shows us baby jim's great admiration for his father and the betrayal and hurt he feels at his father's rejection and abandonment. jim becomes a broody delinquent who, because he couldn't be good enough for his father, decides he's not going to bother trying to be good enough for anybody. he wants to be completely independent emotionally, because when he relied on external approval before, when he tried to show his father his toy ship, he was ignored and abandoned. aside from a few lines about how grief-stricken he is, jim's father's death in the book is of little consequence, whereas in treasure planet, jim's father's abandonment shapes jim's character.

jim's impetus for finding treasure planet is that he might "redeem" himself. despite his bad boy front, he's still seeking external approval - in this case, the praise and acceptance that would come from others were he successful. then on the voyage, we get silver stepping in as a father figure to jim, defending him, comforting him, offering him the love that he so desperately needs, and we want to see a resolution of jim's pain; we hope that jim could have the kind of relationship with silver that he had wanted with his father when he was a child.

silver, of course, is after the treasure, too. to rls' credit, i do appreciate that he elaborates more on silver's motivation. the whole former walrus crew feel entitled to a share of flint's hoarded wealth, but silver specifically criticizes the others for their short-sightedness and habit of feverishly spending any money they get and finding themselves penniless again after a short while. silver prides himself on his forethought and saving, and has shored up a handsome little fortune for a man his age, while still indulging in good food and other niceties while ashore. his goal, then, is not just money for its own sake, but security and respect. he was not born a gentleman, but with flint's hoard he could become a wealthy and respected member of society. i would have liked to see a bit of that in treasure planet to really cinch that jim and silver are seeking the same thing, both materially in the form of treasure and socially/psychologically as acceptance, admiration, and respect.

in any case, the movie still establishes silver as a shrewd man of intense determination, particularly with his line to jim about "giving up a few things" in pursuit of a dream in the conversation about how he became a cyborg. @humanityinahandbag has a great analysis of this scene with regard to jim and silver's goals here, and the implication of the line is that there is nothing silver wouldn't sacrifice for his objective - he's given up a great deal, even lost parts of his body, and he's still trying to claim flint's treasure.

then we get to the apple (or purp) barrel scene, where the question is put to silver which he values more - the treasure or jim. jim's father's betrayal at the beginning of the movie is repeated as silver asserts to the other mutineers that he only cares about the treasure. the notion that jim and silver might find what they seek in each other, rather than in the acquisition of wealth, is dashed, and both parties are again focused solely on securing the treasure as a means of fulfilling their psychological needs.

at the climax of the film, as the planet begins to self-destruct and the loot of a thousand worlds is pouring down into fiery oblivion, we see silver grasping at it in vain with both hands. he's given up years of his life and even parts of his body in pursuit of this treasure - he's even given up jim, whom he loved as a son and who cared about him if no one else did* - and now it's slipping through his fingers.

of course, when it comes down to it and silver has to choose between escaping on flint's ship, laden with treasure, and saving jim's life, he chooses the latter, sacrificing wealth for love. the crew of the rls legacy make it to safety by the skin of their teeth, but nearly all of the treasure is lost as the planet explodes.

there is enough money, sure, to rebuild the benbow and for silver to keep a little, but the thesis is clear: the real treasure is the friends we made along the way. the love and respect between silver and jim are more important to both of them than the material wealth they originally pursued. what they sought to gain through fortune, they gained through vulnerability and trust in one another.

(gif by @gothamcity)

the book ends differently. silver's early relationship with jim is not explored in depth, and his betrayal doesn't hit as hard, especially because it lacks the parallel with jim's father. silver still makes off with a bit of treasure, but the faithful crew of the hispaniola get as much gold as they can carry. when silver escapes, jim and the others are glad to be rid of him, though jim hopes that he is comfortable. it's not a bad ending, but it lacks the emotional depth, in my opinion, of treasure planet, and doesn't resolve the themes of loss and sacrifice as effectively.

*treasure planet makes silver a bachelor, but in the book he is married

#this is a bit rambling and i'll need to revise it later but posting it for now #john silver #jim hawkins #treasure planet #treasure island

505 notes · View notes

spice-chan · 3 years

Text

Ethereal

Yan!Dragon King!Bakugou Katsuki x Water Nymph!f!reader

The water nymphs send an unusual peace offering this year...

Warnings: Reader sent as a peace offering so feelings of objectification are present. Yandere themes. Possessiveness. Yandere bakugou but only becomes outwardly yandere towards the end. Death (killing). Not too descriptive about wounds though, although they are mentioned (not inflicted on reader). Bakugou is a bit of a douchebag at the start.

wordcount: 4.5 k

tags: @angie-1306 (your ask got deleted but thank god you werent on anon) @axther @reddriot

A bundled-up body was dropped under his throne, the body writhing and trying to get muffled screams to be heard.

“My king, the water nymphs made a peace offering. She was dropped off in front of the castle entrance.”

Bakugou’s rich red eyes calculatedly glanced down, breath hitching for a second at the beauty of the roped female—a water nymph. An offering to him. His eyes made contact with yours, seeing the clear defiance and disdain in them, but he knows this look, behind made walls of resistance and will of steel is a petrified woman afraid of her fate. How unfortunate for you. Your eyes were wide and glassy, cute in their attempt at conveying anger, brows furrowed in a glare that merely made Bakugou smirk in amusement. Your mouth, even with the rope muffling every sound you made, clearly showcased a pair of sweet and kissable lips.

The nymphs who sacrificed you did you no favour as well, for they left you scantily dressed, leaving you exposed to the hungry eyes of dragons around you, irking Bakugou slightly that others are looking at his prize.

He left his throne, languidly walking up to you before crouching down to inspect you, to see what’s so special about you. The water nymphs never usually offered one of their own in their attempt at maintaining neutral peace. This ritual which they adopted since ancient times became nothing more than a nicety, they usually offered rare fish, nuts, never a full-fledged nymph, and an attractive one at that. Perhaps the fact that Bakugou, the most renowned dragon shifter finally claimed the throne made them feel unsettled. For his savage and bloodthirsty need to be the absolute best was second to none.

His calloused palms took a hold of your face, ignoring your attempts at deflecting his hold as his massive palm dwarfed your face and made it plenty clear he can easily crush you. He inspected your face from different angles, seeing nothing extraordinary. He took this opportunity to feel up your soft skin which had been tempting him ever since he noticed you laying helplessly on the floor. He then confirmed the validity of the rumours that claimed water nymphs had skin supple and silky as water. It felt like he was running his finger across the surface of a ripple, a mere dip of his finger could breach the surface.

Heh, you’re kinda pretty. So very different from draconian women, who had thick builds paired with excellent survival skills and shifting abilities, but you...he bets it was so easy to overpower you and wrap you up nicely for him to unpack his gift.

He lifts you, his muscles bulging and tensing, proving that carrying you was not a struggle to him in the slightest.

He ignores your useless thrashing, kicking and resisting like a wild bird held in a tyrant's hand. Its wings contained and nails not doing any damage, freedom seeming further and further away. He walks with you on his shoulders, his massive, hulking shoulders.

Soon enough, the rowdy chatter of the men becomes scarce, and their figures even more so, making you double your efforts in trying to escape the tyrant lumping you on his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

“Tsk, keep bein’ a brat and I’ll have to tie your shitty hands.” He turned his head to look at you as he said this, cementing his statement with a fiery glare that only infuriated you further.

He ignored any protest you made after that, walking with you and entering a wing that looked to be heaven-sent from the sheer luxury, gold highlights emphasized in every corner, treasures and artefacts littered around the corridor in a painfully tidy and organised to the very centimetre, clearly they got shined twice a day. However, the further he ventured, the more the previous shine lost its glory, it appeared clean, however, the stark contrast to the speckless shine from before was clear.

Bakugou stopped in front of the grandest door, he twisted the golden doorknob, finally appreciating your quietness. You couldn’t help it, you weren’t particularly rich back home, so to see this reincarnation of decadence really has your eyes glassing, bright in some semblance of joy, you forgot your situation for a second.

You were rudely reminded when you were dumped down on a hard surface.

“OUCH, YOU ASSHOLE.”

When you looked down, however, every profanity disappeared from your tongue as it twisted in awe. You were thrown on a pile of fucking treasure. A huge, mountainous pile of glittering gold and brandished silver, rubies, and every single gem one could imagine.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, scowling at how much he liked the view of you on top of his hoard. He smirked, feeling prideful and accomplished until he noticed that the walls of fury and fire you built up ever since he saw broke in the worst way possible. Your face was scrunched, it felt like your cheeks were lit aflame in humiliation as tears streaked down your adorable face.

Bakugou felt like the biggest douchebag to walk the earth.

You brought your knees closer and hid your face behind them, body shaking as you sobbed. Your tribe sent you as a peace offering, not caring for the slightest about your well being and fate, and now you're stuck here with a brute of a king who has no qualms with treating you like a glorified piece of jewellery. You didn’t want him to see this side of you this soon, you didn’t want him to see how petrified you are, how weak and defenceless you are compared to him. You wanted to rivers of anguish gushing from your eyes to stop, but they wouldn’t.

“Hey…” he tried to console you. It was a poor attempt from an unpractised dragon.

You tried to speak, navigate around that lump in your throat to shout at him, tell him to leave you alone, but your voice failed you just like everything tends to.

You felt him clumsily try to lift your head in a gesture that fell between a forceful demand and a soothing touch. What is up with him now?

You relented and showed him your puffy eyes, glistening eyes, looking at him with trembling lips.

“Tch, stop crying! You—you’ll get snot and tears all over my hoard.”

It was the wrong thing to say, because a fresh batch of tears came, staining the apples of your cheeks.

“Fuck—no. I didn’t mean that.” Your sniffling was reduced to mere hiccups, break down halting at the sight of the most feared man on the earth, the legendary dragon king bakugou, most hardened warrior and skilled shifter, attempting to apologise.

“Shit—I wouldn’t have to be so rough if I knew it bothered you this much.” He pouted, cheeks turning a shade of red that seems almost adorable, turning away from you to scowl at the floor.

Fuck, his mother taught him better, yet the sight of you made him forget any semblance of manners, eager to get his hands on you and away from the prying eyes of people to who you didn’t belong.

An innate sense of possessiveness engulfed him, one that can only be appeased with you sitting on the one place most intimate and guarded by him: his hoard.

But, he’ll tone it down until he gets you more pliant and accepting.

“Stay where you are.” He simply commanded before walking off.

You stayed there, mind urging you to run away, a foolish choice your pride keeps urging you to make. Runaway, in a castle heavily guarded, without having the slightest clue how to get to the exit.

Yeah, bad idea. You’re sure you aren’t welcome back ‘home’ anyway. The thought feels like a sharp dagger slicing your heart, taking its time carving the pain into you.

Soon enough, Bakugou is back, trying to tone down his intimidating aura, but to no avail, for he noticed you shrinking at the sight of his hulking figure. It stung him a little, making his frown a little tighter.

“Come with me,” he said curtly, then walked swiftly out, his cape swishing behind him, making you scramble to follow him, struggling to keep up with his fast steps, frustration slowly rising like bile up your throat and making it harder to stay silent and compliant.

He took you out of the castle, ignoring the curious looks to the best of his ability, but before he could step a foot outside the gate, he grits his teeth in anger and took off his cape. He bundled you in it and lifted you, once again, like a sack of potatoes. But you were too busy feeling like you were lit on fire as you realised that you were walking around in the outfit you were donned in or lack thereof. You buried your face in the fabric, unintentionally making a sound that’s caught between a groan and a whimper.

He walked behind the castle, climbing places with you on his back until he got to where he needed to be

When you arrived, however, you are almost glad you didn’t voice your woos. The sight before you was breathtaking, so much so that your previous plights evaporated even if for a minute.

The scenery was breathtaking, it was a cave, and in the corner, if it was a treasure pile, except merely saying it's a pile was an understatement as it was a mountain in its own right. The hoard you saw back at the castle was incomparable. But that’s not what truly captured you. As he led you further in, you realised the true purpose of this journey.

There was a medium-sized pool, wide enough to fit comfortably in the cave without hogging up all the space, but deep enough that even Bakugou with his stature could enjoy a swim in it. It was clear too, so clear you felt like you could dip your leg in it and see through your very own flesh, that it would make your skin translucent. It was a shade of blue one could only dream of seeing, and after doing so would live their life content.

Perhaps you were biased, seeing that it’s in your very nature as a water nymph to be needing close contact with water, and to be enamoured with it.

All rationale left you though, needing for the water to cleanse you of all your stress and pain, and so bakugou’s cape slipped off your shoulders and hit the floor, your figure leaving it behind as you approached the water and slipped inside. You felt a rush of dopamine override all the negativity inside of you, feeling the water hug you, surround you, shield you.

“So it's true, huh?”

You almost forgot he was here, but Bakugou didn’t forget about you, not even for a second. He was watching you, fascination swirling in his pupils as your expression melted to one of near happiness, heart lurching with every cute expression you made, that *he* caused.

“What is?” You replied, turning in the water to face him.

“That water nymphs live such carefree lives because they spend them inside ponds and lakes.”

You scrunch your nose at that, unable to fathom the exact meaning of his words but having an idea. “We don’t live carefree lives. Not all are given that luxury, at least not me.” You said, giving him a once over with a glare to signify that he’s the problem. He’s the root cause of your misery, Bakugou doesn’t know how to feel about that. It’s quite unfortunate really.

He shrugs his shoulders and reverts to his default face, feigning nonchalance.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like much goes on in your ditzy head.”

You felt your face warm, could very well hear the aggressive thrumming of your blood as you gritted your teeth in anger. And you were about to unleash the full force of your fury until you heard wings flapping outside.

You turned your head, trying to take a glance at the disturbance, but your view was shielded by Bakugou, who moved unnaturally fast for someone who made it clear how nothing phases him. And not fast enough for you to think it’s a real threat.

He came back moments later with an attire you regretfully recognized.

No, scratch that, he brought several. Pale, light flowy dresses that are often worn by your people. Light enough that they wouldn’t mind an occasional soak in water.

Your anger dissipated, melting into confusion, then quickly becoming embarrassment as you realised you were comfortably standing in front of him in your underwear.

You should feel happy, but bile rose up your throat, the taste of humiliation clear on your tongue as you realised with distaste that he was indeed right, you did live carefreely. You also realised you won’t be able to live like that ever again, and that very realisation brought tears to your eyes once again.

“Tch, just take one and wear it. I don’t need you crying again.”

Your face fell, and Bakugou felt his heart twinge a little when you responded with silence, looking at your sad face made him feel oddly protective. It’s probably because you were his treasure. Like his hoard right? He always needs his treasure to be kept in optimum conditions.

Having justified that to himself, he didn’t feel as weird now regarding what he was about to do.

While you changed into one of the outfits he got you, he dug through his hoard, knowing exactly what item he wanted to dig out. His fingers slithered through countless gold pieces, shining enough to cure a greedy man’s blindness. He finally found it, a delicate golden chain, but what demands attention is the ruby hanging from it. He brings a thumb to it, rubbing the rock appreciatively, liking the semblance of the colour to his eyes.

You coughed, signaling you you were done, snapping away his wondrous gaze from the necklace.

You looked really pretty in the dress, he’s got to thank Kiri for the speed run to the shops that he did. The light material hugs your skin, looking stretchy, yet form fitting that it hugged your body in a way that made Bakugou jealous.

You looked in your element now, but somehow the awkwardness still lingered in the air as you avoided his gaze.

Bakugo didn’t try to be subtle when checking you out, in his eyes, you were *his* whether or not that’s what he chose so he can at least check what he has right?

Bakugou didn’t pay heed to the slow spiral of his morals, of the things he worked so hard to uphold. His justifications were slowly manifesting into delusions.

He approached you, ignoring the way you tensed when he went behind you, turning around to question him, but he was quickly done. Your eyes caught the glistening red ruby hanging from your neck, the colour rich and deep like red wine. You didn’t hate it, but confusion swirled in your veins at his actions.

“Looks good on you.” The colour looks like my eyes, it reminds me that you’re mine.

Bakugo wasn’t sure why he held off on telling you what’s on his mind, he usually doesn’t hesitate once to tell the truth.

Your wide, glittery eyes stared up at him, trying but failing to hide their awe. The anger and resentment took a backseat to intrigue, so did he pick this out for you because he thought it would look nice on you? How strange of him.

He lifted a calloused finger up, face now cleared and relaxed that he looked pretty, not intimidating, not barbaric, but pretty. He caressed your cheek, smiling slightly when he felt how warm it was. It slipped off his face all too soon when he took the reins back. He squished your cheek, lips once again taking the shape of a sadistic smile.

“You look dumb”

Your features hardened, gaze narrowed in anger and hatred that it made Bakugou surprised. Surprised by how much he hated it, or by the sheer intensity? He didn’t have much time to dwell on his thoughts though, because a dainty hand flew his way and slapped his hand away.

“You-“ you nearly growled in anger, tears once again coating your eyes because of him. “You rude, barbaric, selfish, egoistical “jerk!” You shouted at him. Why were you this angry?

“Just when I think you might be a decent person.” You rub furiously at your eyes, shoulders slouched in disappointment as you disappeared deeper into the cave and out of his sight. You were always so naive and easy to fool.

Bakugou felt the full weight of your words weighing down on him, but he tried to shrug it off. He walked out, silently brooding with his thoughts until a servant came and delivered dinner.

He stood up, walking to you with tje food in his arms, hoping he could butter you up with it. He found you in the deepest part of the cave, face hidden behind your knees, unmoving.

You were sleeping.

He set the food down, bending down to try and confirm his observation, only for a remorse to hit him like a truckload after he saw the semi dried tear tracks. He didn’t have to be that mean to you. Maybe his dragon subjects can handle it because they have thicker skin, naturally, and they’re used to him. But you were just thrust into his life today and he’d been laying it thick on you. He’s coming to terms with his attraction to you and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

He nudged your shoulder, not wanting to test his voice right now, afraid it might be too gentle.

You stirred awake, your face relaxed and serene as you blinked blearily.

“Hm?” You rubbed your eyes, looking at your surroundings with confusion. Your eyes were red.

He wondered how much you cried.

He mumbled something unintelligible, you turned your gaze to him, the sleepiness now almost all gone.

“What? I can’t hear you.” Your tone was sharp and cutting, and your gaze, now devoid of all confusion, was similarly icy.

“‘didn’t mean to make ya’ cry.” You nearly believed him, nearly.

“What’s this? Another act to make me lower my guard? Well you don’t need to, I’m at your mercy. You can skip the pleasantries and just laugh at how pathetic I am.”

He stared at the floor, well, *glared*.

“You’re not pathetic.” He simply said, glaring at you in a way that dared you to challenge him”-and I’m not going to laugh at you.”

He could speculate about his feelings all day, drown in this euphoria of infatuation, hate you for making him weak but one thing he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want you to hate him. He wants your eyes to look at him in wonder again, to admire him and fill him with endless pride, to maybe smile at him, he hasn’t seen you smile yet but he bets it’ll be gorgeous.

It’s only because he wants his treasure to be in optimum condition, nothing more, nothing less.

“Then why do you go out of your way to demean me?” You questioned accusingly.

“I don’t, that’s just how I am, you’re going to have to accept it because you’re not going anywhere.” Dread filled you, knowing your days would be filled with humiliation, mocking words echoing in your head like an endless loop.

You stayed silent, accepting your fate because what else could you do? At least you got your greatest companion to keep away the loneliness; water. He once again waited for a response that never came, and he stood up with a sigh, stretching his limbs.

“Just eat your food. I guarantee you’ll like it.”

He said, hanging his cape around him once again, reminding you just who he is, making it flutter behind him as he left you all alone.

He was back early the next day, he found you asleep inside the pool, your head resting on your folded hands on the ledge. The sight had his worry spike so much that a vein was visible on his forehead. He woke you up and scolded you.

And then he proceeds to lay food in front of you, climbing up to sit on top of his hoard to watch you while you eat, not minding the fact that his gaze was sealed on you for minutes, nor the fact that at some point you scolded him for making you uncomfortable.

You didn’t like the glint in his eyes.

In the afternoon he was back with blankets, pillows and other gifts, hoping to sooth the raging waves of your ire. Trying to convince you that he isn’t that bad.

After a while, his daily visits, gifts…reluctant kindness was all you knew. You were starting to let the memories of your home slip, you were accepting the fact that the previous bonds you forged were inevitably breaking. You were accepting the fact that you’re now stuck in a cave as glorified treasure.

And it showed, the sadness on your face would linger, numbness in your tone. Even the water was suffocating.

“CAN YOU STOP ACTING SOULLESS?” And Bakugou eventually couldn’t take it anymore.

You turned to him, no longer was there a fire raging in your eyes. He’s losing the girl he met in his throne room on a fateful day. He no longer cares whether he has to bare his raw feelings to you, the intimidate, gushy, soft, mushy feelings he feels every time he sees you. He wants to hold you everyday, not like you’re an exotic treasure, *but his* treasure. He wants you have his hatchlings with you, and he wants to see you smile at him.

“Why should I?” You replied with dullness, not particularly moved.

“Because…” he looked constipated, his lips clamped together while his cheeks were dusted a cherry red.

“Because?” You didn’t get it. You’re just like a piece of jewelry right? Why does it matter if you become quiet and compliant?

“Because I love you.” He said softly, too softly for someone who looks as rugged and rough as him. Now that broke your composure. Your eyes widened, surprise painting your features as the dragon king Bakugou Katsuki just confessed to you. The greatest soldier in the land, the most terrifying shifter.

He cupped your cheeks, softly stroking the skin, appreciating the soft texture against his scarred hand. His face was so red, even his ears but he was smiling. He was smiling so hard that you wondered whether this was the same person. “I love you, I want you to be happy.” He said, now louder, prouder and more confident in his honeyed words.

You slapped his hand away.

“I don’t believe you.” You cruelly stomped on his confession, making his smile fall.

“But why? Have I not treated you well? I’ve never cared about someone as much as you”

“Prove you love me.” You challenged, staring him in the eye before adding.

“I’m pretty sure you can’t though.”

You turned around and walked away from him, but he decided that wasn’t the end of the conversation and he grabbed your wrist.

“How?!” Frustration was evident in his voice, but so was desperation. He was genuine about wanting to prove his love to you, what would people think if they saw the great dragon king behaving like this over a woman?

You ripped yourself from his hold and spat “figure it out.”

He came back at the dead of night, grunting, laughing and calling your name. You stirred from slumber, eyes fluttering open and peaking out from the blanket you cocooned yourself in. Yoy felt a hand brushing the hair away from your face, lips pressing to your forehead before the fog cleared away to reveal a bloodied Bakugou.

You screamed, scrambling to move away from him, but he held you back, keeping your supine form in place. With his arms on either side of you, not only holding your arms in place but also supporting his weight above you as he stared down at you like some sort of predator.

He laughed heartily, and if he wasn’t drenched in blood you’d find it kind of cute.

“What? Ya’ scared of a little blood? That’s cute.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, asking shakily whose blood it is.

His eyebrows rose, humming at your question before a cocky smirk took over.

“You’ll see. This will show you for sure that I love your bratty ass.” He got off you, walking towards the entrance of the cave, dragging a lifeless figure with him before discarding it carelessly in front of you.

It was the chief of water nymphs. Her old and withered frame looked pale and lifeless, yet brutal gashes littered her body.

“She was the one who sent you here, right?”

You wordlessly nodded, eyes glued to the corpse in front of you.

“I couldn’t set you free, ‘cuz I loved you, I won’t stand to have you around. But she hurt you a lot didn’t she? If she didn’t send you here as simply a peace offering, I would have found my way to you eventually and fell in love with you anyway. I don’t keep you because you’re another treasure on my hoard.” Despite the flaw in his justifications, his manic ramblings and his lovesick eyes, you weren’t repulsed, you weren’t mourning the death of the monster who sent you as a peace offering for objecting to her new rules.

No. Maybe you’re as fucked up as he is, but in a moment of pettiness, you turned to him and smiled.

You weren’t sure whether the redness on his cheeks were blood or a blush. But his eyes were looking at you like you were a miracle, a shining star, it’s like he had heart for eyes but who can blame him? Who can blame the wild thumping of his heart, that’s hammering against his ribcage like a woodpecker does to a tree? He finally got to see you smile.

“Do you believe me now?” He said, leaning closer to you, his eyes looking misty, glistening like the ruby on your neck.

“I do, Katsuki.” You replied, letting your eyes hold his own as you also moved closer to him, cupping his cheek, hand tangling in his surprisingly soft hair.

He was mesmerised, breath lost at your soft touch. The only physical contact he’s had before was when he was out in the field slaughtering enemies, hurting, grabbing. Not being caressed, because that’s soft and he’s never done soft until he met you.

You pecked him softly, lovingly. But you soon moved towards his ear, whispering carelessly.

“You know this could cause war with the forest creatures, right? You broke a centuries long treaty.”

He growled, giving you a bloodied grin. “Whatever those shitty extras throw at me, I can handle it. They wouldn’t pick a fight with me if they are smart.”

You squeezed his bicep, marvelling at how hard it was, he’s not infamous for nothing.

Is that all it takes to win you over?

You looked down at the chief, or ex-chief. You could still remember her cold, cruel grin as she saddled you up, to make an example out of you. No one questions her rule, no one has the right to, even if she endangers them, even if she takes the land that they always freely enjoyed.

Yeah, maybe that’s enough, you believed him. Or maybe you’re picking your own poison.

#bnha #bnha scenarios #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #bakugou x reader #yandere bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #yandere bakugou #yandere katsuki #yandere bakugou katsuki #yandere bnha #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bnha fanfiction

826 notes · View notes

ronearoundblindly · 8 days

Note

The root of all ransom is just Amazing . Times wanna smack his pearly white teeth out the next i wanna kiss him and support causes we care hahaha Your always amazing!

RoAR is the baby I never f***ing wanted lol.

He's awful, the worst, I'm glad he went to jail in canon, f*** that guy...

...but like...GAHD he's hot.

🥵🤬

Of course, somehow, this douche is gonna get a sequel, much to my chagrin, but until then...let's just look at him and imagine doing all the dirty awful nasty worst things to him, yeah???

#ro answers #hoarded niceties #from 2 7 23

6 notes · View notes

simplepotatofarmer · 3 years

Text

techno & kindness vs. niceness: a follow up to this post

since a few people asked to hear my thoughts on this, here we go.

first, i want to talk a bit about my grandpa. he was a gruff man. he taught me how to skin rabbits and squirrels, wasn’t much for conversation, and once pointed a loaded shotgun at land developers.

he also told me that the best way to judge who someone is, what they are at their core, is to look at how they treat animals.

now, being that it’s minecraft and animals are needed for resources for potions, etc. i’m not going to lean too hard into this. i also want to be upfront that i’m not excusing anything techno’s done or even saying he’s a good person. i don’t really like labeling people as good or bad because i think people are capable of both and i think techno is the perfect example of that.

when it comes to animals, techno clearly has a soft spot.

not just for the ones he owns himself, but for other people’s pets. he fed both max and jackmanifold’s fox golden apples, gives his own pets golden apples and diamond swords. he worried about the bees him and phil were collecting getting hurt in the rain/snow. the distress in his voice when the zombie crushed his turtle eggs was palatable.

why i think this is such an important thing to note is because by game design, feeding foxes or polar bears golden apples or using potions on them, benefits him in no way. techno is someone who hoards resources as a way to protect himself and feel safe, but he’s perfectly willing to use those resources on animals that give nothing in return. he displays a level of kindness towards them that i think most people probably find surprising.

it makes sense, though, because techno is very often kind but not nice.

i focus a lot on his treatment of animals and that’s because for someone like techno, who takes being hurt by people very hard, it’s easier for him to display that towards something that can’t hurt him.

but that doesn’t mean he’s not kind to other people.

the vault is the first example of this and while it’s clear he was receiving something in return, the sheer amount of work that he put into collecting resources was something else that even the others noted. he also didn’t push for the emeralds back from tubbo.

that’s not the only examples, of course. telling phil to reach out to ranboo to offer him a place to stay when ranboo had been a part of (unknowingly/unwillingly) one techno’s biggest traumas, letting tommy stay in his house when he considered what happened a betrayal, giving tommy golden carrots later on and then giving the remainder of the ones that he had gotten back from tommy to ranboo, saying he was now out of food because he kept giving it away. the friendship emeralds and everything with his relationship with phil.

but techno is not nice.

he doesn’t shy away from telling people how he feels or what he thinks of them. it’s often in a joking or teasing way but he rarely couches it in any sort of niceties. he flat out told tommy it was the consequences of his own actions which might not be accurate because i’m personally not sure most of that was tommy’s doing but it was what techno believes, he’s blunt with his opinions of quackity, fundy, and tubbo most notably though he’s the same with others as well.

he’s also willing to do things that hurt others if it’s in line with his beliefs, which he truly and clearly feels is what will benefit others. whether or not you agree with his actions and beliefs, they are centered around what he sees as something beneficial: no oppression or mind control, no nationalism that can be used as a weapon, no forcing people to do things they don’t want (which i know is a sticking point and i agree/acknowledge that but not going into it in this post, i’m just focusing on techno’s pov which doesn’t always line up).

at the heart of it, technoblade is just a person, not good or bad, capable of both.

he’s someone who can be exceedingly kind to those he cares for (and even those who have hurt him) but isn’t necessarily nice.

#man this took forever to write and i'm nervous 'cause i think it's my most controversial take #but you know. it's just how i see it.#also re: the hound army let's be real. cc!techno has always said he wanted to do that sooooo #technoblade #dsmp techno #dream smp #dsmp analysis #i'm gonna tag the people who wanted this in replies fyi #slkdfjdsklf j #loyal does meta

581 notes · View notes

dabilove27 · 3 years

Text

How Far We've Come

Paring: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, Smut (female-receiving oral), A Cocky Dabi, Cussing, A lot of Pet Names

Word Count: 7.8K

A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile Apocalypse Collab! If you have the time check out some of the other amazing pieces! Everyone has worked so hard to make some beautiful fics!

Thank you so much to my wife @lady-lunaaa for reading, encouraging, brainstorming, and helping me the whole way from start to finish. I have said it before but I will say it again. You are absolutely amazing and this fic wouldn't exist without you! 💜 Also thank you @/deathcab4daddy (not sure if you want to be tagged) for taking the time to read through and for your advice!

You've seen all those movies, the decaying zombie hoards, the massive explosions that wipe out nations, or an unexpected illness that mysteriously kills off the population. But you had never really expected for any of those apocalyptic things to become true in your own world. They were just fiction, never something that could actually occur. Yet here you are faced with the reality of a hoard of rotting zombies. Like you have been thrown into one of the many movies or TV shows yourself.

People aren't even sure how it happened, especially in a world full of quirks where this should be somewhat controlled, right? Wrong, whatever caused this zombie apocalypse also seemed to nullify quirks over time. There was so much speculation whether it came into the water supply or passed through the air. But none of that really seems to matter anymore when you are fighting for your life every day.

And as the mass of decaying, walking corpses steps closer and closer to you, it seems like your end is near too. The smell of organs exposed to the air and sun stink up the room. You can see the blank, milky white eyes of the undead that somehow can still find you even though they can't really see. You've had a partner, at least—the man who has stood with you during this entire shit show.

He stands close to you, a single rusted knife covered in stagnant blood, not nearly enough even combined with whatever you could find for fighting off the seemingly endless mindless bodies coming your way. He's covered in burn scars and rusted staples that pull at his healthy skin. People used to jab at him for looking like the walking dead before all this went down. His firepower from before would have solved this problem in an instant. This rotting mob wouldn't have stood a chance.

But instead, it looks like it's the conclusion for the two of you. Memories flash through your mind. A memory of escaping the daily struggle of your mundane life by sharing take-out on your old couch. Or how his kisses always felt like burning flames against your lips. Your regular life consisted of trying to numb the pain of the past with alcohol or working endless hours. Even though you didn’t have a traditional relationship where you could go on public dates, being in a relationship with a well-known villain was worlds better than this. But if you were going to die, at least it was together. Solidarity in times like this seems to help the never-ending dread that the Reaper looming around every corner ready to take you. Every moment in this new hell had you wished you had more time to develop your romance with him instead of the tragedy that was about to befall you. You wished you had more time with this romance and that it wouldn't end in tragedy. It's hard to believe that there was ever a time when you couldn't stand this man, but even now, that's a fond memory for you. You would give anything to return to that old bar where the two of you met and relive all of these memories.

It really isn't a surprise that you met Dabi in a dark, run-down bar near Kamino. No, not the "bar" run by Kurogiri; everyone who lived in this area knew that it was just a setup. This bar is a tiny little hole in the wall with paint chipping off the walls and where the seats were hardly held together anymore, but that didn't really matter to people who lived in this area. You didn't come to this bar for a luxury experience.

The main reason people came to this bar was its location. It sat deep in a seedy area which meant no police patrolling nearby so you wouldn’t need to look over your shoulder constantly. Plus, the cheap liquor was enticing enough.

Every Friday night, you were perched on one of the worn-out bar stools as you nursed your gin and tonic. This was your place to unwind after another hellish week of your mundane job. It was still early enough in the evening that the bar wasn't thoroughly packed with bodies trying to get their drink. The music was still soft, later it would blare whatever song was currently sitting at the top of the Billboard charts. You were able to turn your brain off and listen to other patrons' mindless chatter in the background. You could just sip your drink, maybe take a shot or two if you felt like, and then head home to pass out.

You relished this little getaway, an oasis in the slums that made up your small world. The bartender and regular patrons didn't bother you, so you could have your own peace. But your Eden got interrupted by a cocky, fire-wielding asshole who had set his sights on you.

You didn't stir when said asshole plopped himself down in the barstool next to you with a thump. It wasn't until the jerk actually spoke to you that you were brought out of your mindless daydreaming.

"Hey, pretty girl, what are you doing in a place like this?" He said with a smooth tone. You didn't even have to look at him to know he had an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

Who the fuck does this asshole think he is? The irritated thought instantly pops into your head. Anyone who frequented this bar knew you were from around here. You weren't some soft, delicate flower that wasn't supposed to be "on this side of town." Preparing yourself by putting on your best "I'm not interested face," you maneuvered your body to face him, ready to tell him off.

Your words caught in your throat as your eyes met his two endless pools of cerulean. Your gaze shifted to take in the burnt skin clinging onto the shining staples that were rooted in his healthy skin. A familiar black coat spread across his frame that was even more recognizable than those eyes, and the patronizing smile that you wanted to slap off his face. As much as you wanted to throw up your middle finger at him and tell him off, you knew who this was. Hell, everyone knew who this was.

The League of Villains didn't necessarily keep quiet around here. They didn't have to. This is the area where they recruited people to join them. You didn't just flick off and ignore a LOV member. Especially the infamous Dabi, who wasn't really known for his kindness or compassion. More for his ability to burn anyone who defied The League to a crumbling crisp.

But still, who did this asshole think he is? Waltzing in here like he owned it and saddling down into your escape from the world only to tell you that you don't look like you should be here? Fuck that nonsense, League member or not.

You swallow down a bit of the initial anger as your eyes narrow into a glare at the cocky asshole. "Thanks but no thanks, I'm not interested in being involved with the League. So if you don't mind going somewhere else to scout, that would be great." You try to say without a tremble in your voice as you wave your hand in a "shoo" motion.

You aren't sure what you expect Dabi to do next., burn down the whole bar you included? Tell you that you have no choice but to join, and you're coming with him? Rip you out of your seat and reprimand you for disrespecting The League? But instead, none of those things happen. Instead, he does something you don't expect, and his grin grows a little wider as the staples begin to pull more at his healthy flesh.

You can feel your anxiety rising. Get out, get out, get out, this asshole will kill you, leave NOW, your mind is practically sending off every warning signal it can.

Your chest tightens when Dabi lets out a low chuckle. "Oh no, sweetheart, you've got it all wrong." He says with a dark tone. "I'm not recruiting you for work. My interest in you is personal." Dabi points at you and then at himself and finishes with an infuriating smirk that seems to be mocking you. He's moved his hand and placed it on your forearm that was resting on the smooth bar top.

A shiver runs through you as the mismatched textures of his skin and the cool metal of the staples. You feel your anger bubbling up again. How dare this jerk think that you will just fall for him like a desperate fangirl. You are livid at this point, frustration coursing through your veins, fuck the niceties and preservation. He needed to be put in his place.

"I know you think you are some big shot because The League is doing so well right now but fuck off asshole. I'm not a League groupie that will just kneel down and suck your dick just because you want it." You spit out at him while shrugging off his hand and moving your body to face the way you were initially sitting. Grasping your drink and lifting it to your lips, you try and down what was left so you could leave immediately, any extra moment around Dabi was a moment you didn't want to have.

You were sure Dabi would have given up or at least killed you by now. You can't imagine that he is used to being rejected by women. He's handsome in a way that doesn't fit with the norm. He fills in that bad boy check-list like it's his job, which it practically is given his profession. Again though, Dabi surprises you with his response. He doesn't yell, he doesn't use his quirk, and he doesn't kill you. He lets out another dark chuckle like he's enjoying this and continues the conversation you had tried to cut off.

"I didn't say anything about sucking dick, but if you're offering, who am I to turn down a gift?" That smooth tone is back as he moves his hand to your hair and runs it through his fingers.

Bewilderment overcomes you, and you can't even stop yourself before you are turned towards him again, glass in your hand, ready to throw what's left of your drink on him.

As if he anticipated the response, Dabi moves quickly and grabs your wrist in a tight grip. "Now, why would you want to waste what you have left, doll? That's not a very smart choice." His grip tightens a little more around your wrist, and you can feel the staples begin to dig into your skin as he lets out a deep chuckle. He moves your hand back down to the bar but doesn't let go even after your glass has left your hand. "There we go, good girl. Now let's talk just a bit." He says sweetly, loosening his grip just a bit, but not enough for you to move your hand.

If looks could kill, Dabi would have died a cruel death by now. You are seething at this point. But instead, you're stuck there as he continues to do whatever it is that he’s trying to accomplish. "What were you drinking? I'll buy you another one and then leave, okay doll?" He says playfully and with a cunning grin on his face as you mumble out your drink order. You just want him to leave, and you really hope he plans on keeping his word.

Dabi motions for the bartender's attention, gives your drink order and plops a few bills on the bartop. He still hasn't let go of your wrist, and each and every moment he is even touching you, you can feel your annoyance continuing to build. You want to ask him if he's done yet and will kindly get the fuck out, but you have a sneaking suspicion that he likes the cat and mouse game, which would just lengthen the amount of time he sticks around.

The bartender finally delivers your drink, and it takes everything in you not to rip your wrist out of his grasp and grab the new glass to pour over Dabi's head. "Okay, one last question, and then I'll leave." He drawls out as you put all your focus into the condensation forming on your glass. You stay silent, waiting for his stupid question so you can move on and never see him again. Dabi continues with that condesending tone that is starting to cause your head to ache, "How often do you come here? I'd love to see you again."

Your heartbeat picks up, and little shots of adrenaline start to flow through you as you contemplate how to respond. Of course, you don't want this asshole to know when you come here. This is your escape from the world. You never want to even see Dabi again, but something from this interaction tells you Dabi isn't going to give up easily. So you tell him your regular time that you show up at the bar every Friday.

Dabi squeezes your wrist a little bit before letting out another "Good girl, sounds like a date. I'll see you then." You never want him to know how those few words send a shiver down your spine. He saunters out of the bar without having a single drink himself. Patrons stare dumbfounded between you and the doorway that Dabi just exited, trying to comprehend what just happened.

You let out an exasperated sigh before leaning your head down into your folded arms. The bar top isn't necessarily the cleanest of places to lay your head, but it’s pounding and racing with thoughts, and you can't really bring yourself to care right now. You try to formulate a plan so you won't ever see him. You'll just move your regular day to Saturday instead of Fridays. But then that stubborn anger flares inside of you again, and you sit up straight, glancing at your newly unwanted drink as the ice slowly melts, lifting the remaining liquid in the cup. No, I'm not going to let that asshole ruin my spot for me. He can come around here every Friday, but I'll turn that jerk down a million times. You think a little smugly to yourself. We will see how the big bad Dabi feels being turned down over and over. Maybe that will sting his ego.

And so you and Dabi play this game of cat and mouse. He comes every Friday when you are there without fail, buying you a drink, chatting to you with sentences filled with pet names, and planning another "date" each time. And every time you tell him you aren't interested or to go away, or really anything to try and get that stupid fucking smirk off his face. But it always remains cemented there as he watches you get fired up. And what you don't realize is the two of you are getting to know each other. Dabi adds in little questions, "what's your favorite food, least favorite, what do you do for work?" And the questions go on and on. You don't realize your walls coming down as the two of you find similarities in each other. And if there is one thing anyone who sees these frequent interactions between the two of you can say, it is that Dabi is determined.

You are so used to Dabi's Friday visits that they don't bring headaches anymore, and you realize something more has developed when he doesn't show up one week. A mixture of feelings rests in you, anxiety, confusion, anger. You wonder if he's okay, or has he finally given up. And then anger if he has. You don't want to admit it, but you miss his company, and you don't even have a number to reach out to him. You feel a sense of loss in your chest. How could he just give up? He's been trying for months! You think as tears begin to sting for a moment in your eyes.

You leave the bar that night not feeling uplifted or relaxed but sad and angry. And you aren't necessarily looking forward to returning the week after, but you do come back to your regular spot and hope Dabi will show. Your heart almost stops in your chest when you see him walk through the entrance of the bar, and before you can contain the words, they tumble out in a frantic sound, "where were you last week?" You are standing in front of him now, looking up at that little grin he always has on his face whenever you get annoyed with him. You cross your arms over your chest and exclaim, "Well? I'm waiting."

"Aw, did you miss me, baby girl?" His poker face never falls, but his grin grows a tiny bit wider as he stares into your fiery eyes. And without warning, he wraps one of his long arms around you, pulling you into a tight side hug.

A small eep escapes you at the movement, and you move to push him off. "What the hell are you doing? Answer my question, you jerk!" You practically yell as you push away from him. He doesn't let go and just pulls you tighter to him, and you find yourself not struggling anymore as you take in the weathered texture of his coat pressed against your arm and the smell of cigarettes on him. You feel your walls starting to fall entirely, "I was really concerned about you." You let out in a whisper, not really wanting to admit it to him, but you weren't sure how you would feel if something like this happened again.

"Aw, babe, you did miss me." The delight in his voice makes you shiver a little. He gestures you over to your regular spot at the bar, and the two of you sit down in the weathered chairs. He puts a calloused finger under your chin to bring your gaze to his. You stare into his cerulean depths that you used to hate and find yourself softening a bit. "I had to do something for The League, but I don't have your number, love. So I couldn't call and let you know I wouldn't make our date." His face relaxes a bit as he watches your frown turn into a bit of pout.

"Okay, well fine, I'll give you my number. But don't just text me randomly, okay?" You huff as you lay your palm flat and motion for his phone. Dabi chuckles and shakes his head before handing you the phone without another word. Lifting the phone, you type your number into the cracked screen and hand it back to him. "Okay, now text me, so I have yours. " You say, moving to grab your phone to wait for his upcoming text.

"Hmmm, I don't think so, doll," Dabi says, taking in your furrowed brow and then relishing in the way you roll your eyes at his taunting.

"Fine, whatever, Dabi. Just text me next time you can't make it." You say sourly while searching for the bartender to order your drink. You don't want Dabi to see the slight sting of hurt in your eyes because he won't give you his. The rest of the night goes as expected, drinking and talking, and you find yourself laughing more, not realizing how much you truly enjoyed this time with him.

The two of you depart with another hug, this one much shorter than the first, but you find yourself leaning into the warmth that radiates from him instead of wanting to push him off. As you begin walking down the street home, you feel a buzz in your pocket. Pulling out your phone, you unlock it to the message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Hey babe, see you same time next week - D

A small smile comes to your face as you type a response back.

The following year you grow in your relationship with Dabi. There are never really any titles between the two of you. Just that the two of you are together. You never meet The League. Dabi is insistent you aren't involved with them in case things go awry. But you spend a lot of time together when work or villain work doesn't take up the time.

Your relationship together comes to a head at the very start of the apocalypse. The two of you sit snuggled together on your worn-out couch watching the news as a young reporter stands in front of a local research building in town and goes through the facts of citizens becoming "mindless and violent in a matter of hours." And how they have people under lockdown who are experiencing symptoms of this "mysterious illness."

A slight shiver goes through you as the reporter goes on. "That's really scary. No one knows what's causing it," you reflect aloud while you lean in closer into Dabi's outstretched arm that is resting around your shoulders.

"Aw, babe, don't be scared. Those mindless fools wouldn't stand a chance if they tried to lay a hand on you while I'm there," Dabi says with a glint of amusement in his voice. He always sounds so condescending, but you know it's the truth. Remembering a time at the bar when a guy wouldn't take no for an answer-not that Dabi really followed that either- but Dabi didn't hesitate to let the guy know you were already taken. He flirts and likes to jab a lot, but there’s a complete shift in the atmosphere when he's serious.

"Ugh, Dabi, you know I don't mean them attacking us. It's whatever is causing it that worries me. What happens if one of us gets it? There's no cure right now," You say and worry your lower lip between your teeth.

Dabi picks up on your anxious state, and his cocky facade fades. He pulls you on his lap so that you are fully facing him with legs pressed on either side of his. Dabi holds one large hand on your waist, and the other he presses to your cheek. Leaning your cheek further into his hand, Dabi moves his thumb to trace over the slight marks in your lip where your teeth were just placed. "Hey, listen to me, nothing is going to happen, okay? I won't let any of these maniacs hurt you, and we won't catch whatever they have," Dabi says tenderly as he gives you a small smile.

It's nice to see him like this- when his mask of superiority disappears, and he's focused on encouraging you. It doesn't happen often because you like to keep walls. Comfort from Dabi doesn’t need to happen often but you can’t say you don’t like it when he does. You enjoy these softer moments with him that only you get to see.

You pull Dabi into a light kiss. The gentle pressure of his mismatched lips fit seamlessly against yours. You pull away after a moment to look into his deep blue eyes that now captivate you. Dabi has that coy smile still on his face, and as his eyes meet your in that moment, it's like the horrible events of the world aren't happening anymore. All that seems to exist is the two of you, not the TV still prattling in the background or even the noises outside your city window.

Dabi lightly caresses your cheek down to the length of your neck and finally ending near where your collarbones sit. Everywhere he touches leaves behind a trail of goosebumps on your skin. Even with these simple touches, you can feel yourself starting moving against him, trying to create a bit of friction. Dabi knew how easily he could rile you up with simple touches. It was frustrating at times, and you wished you could have the same effect on him.

"I love you, babe. And no matter what, I won't let anything hurt you," Dabi tells you, and you swear his voice seems to be cracking, but the moment is gone before you can think about it. Dabi lives on being mysterious most of the time, and you rarely get to see this vulnerable side of him. Even if he doesn't say it behind that mask of cockiness, you can feel that there is fear of what's happening right now. Or at least that's what you think the fear is from, but Dabi will never admit the fear is from losing you to whatever this is. He isn't sure he could survive this hell of a life he's been given without you.

Your heart aches at his sincere words from earlier, and you whisper back, "I love you too, Dabi." Drawing him into a more intense kiss. Dabi begins to run his fingers along the hem of your t-shirt and delicately brushes the skin right under with his fingertips. You feel a moan bubble up inside of you, but his mouth moving against yours swallows the sound.

"I want you so bad, doll. Let's just forget what's going on right now, let the world fall away," he says in a husky voice after breaking away from the kiss.

You nod to him before letting out a content sigh and letting your eyes fall shut while Dabi continues to trace his hands over your body. Dabi trails his massive heated hands under the thin shirt you are wearing and down to your hips. You can feel the bulge of his cock through his jeans as it begins to press against your clothed core.

Opening your eyes, you meet Dabi's half-lidded lustful eyes and bite your bottom lip and allow yourself to give into Dabi taking over you.

You can feel your heart beating a little faster, watching Dabi drink in every ounce of you. Dabi is one of the only men you have ever trusted like this. To have you so totally vulnerable. It's strange how someone you didn't want anything to do with for months has become someone you rely on for everything- love, comfort, pleasure.

Dabi places open-mouthed kisses along your neck that leave you breathless. "Fuck, I'm obsessed with every inch of you," Dabi growls out before returning to kissing and sucking your neck and exposed collar bone.

You grip Dabi's shoulder to ground you back from floating away into complete bliss and tip your head out to give him more access to your neck. Dabi's mouth is like a flame that licks at your sensitive skin as he continues to trail his mouth all over. You could be trapped in this pleasure forever.

Dabi grasps the back of your head and roughly brings your lips back to his. With your mouths slotted against each other, you moan as Dabi finesses you to where you are lying on your back on the old couch, and he is hovering over you.

You break the kiss to quickly pull off his jacket and expose Dabi's scarred arms. And just as you have only trusted Dabi fully with yourself, he has done the same. Of course, the two of you have had sex with other people, mostly with lights off clothing still left on to hide the imperfections. But with each other, there is no more hiding.

Heat begins to pool in your belly as you watch Dabi pull off your shorts and slide his warm hands all the way back up your leg and massage the plush skin of your thighs. Once your shorts are removed, Dabi brings himself back to your face and, with a lustful sigh, traces kisses on your jaw and neck.

"Just relax and let me take you away from all of this, love. I want to hear every sound you make." He growls as he moves down towards your pussy and lays himself between your spread legs. Dabi lifts your thighs to rest on his shoulder as you let out a little gasp. You can feel the excitement and heat rising in you.

Dabi kisses down the inside of your soft thighs and stops to suck at certain spots, leaving minor marks in their place. He stops for a moment until you are looking directly into his captivating gaze, and then he licks a stripe up your pussy over the cotton of your underwear. You let out a breathy moan at the sensation. That jerk knows precisely what he's doing.

Dabi then grabs the thin material of your underwear and rips them away from your body with a tear. Groaning, you are about to curse at him for ruining another pair but are cut short when he sleekly licks up your folds. A delicate, playful moan leaves your separated lips. Your eyes close, and you cling onto his white shirt to ground yourself.

"Baby girl, you're soaking wet," Dabi teases as if you weren't aware but cuts off any retort again with a quick suck to your aching clit. You can't hold back the loud moan that bubbles up in your throat.

Dabi smiles against your lower lips and continues his ministrations. His mouth is open wide, so he can move back and forth from quickly licking up and down your sensitive pussy as well as suck softly on your clit. You feel light-headed at the extended sensations, little whimpers and moans falling through your lips. Dabi has always been able to leave you speechless with just his mouth.

"Dabi please," Your breathing hitches, and you moan out as he flicks his tongue repeatedly over your small bud. You can feel that hot pressure building in your stomach as Dabi continues. He laps at you like you are holding the only source of liquid left in this world, his tongue working wonders on your dripping hole.

Dabi pulls back and looks up at you as you eagerly meet his blue eyes, begging him to continue. He smirks before lowering his mouth back down and laps at your sopping core teasingly. Fucking bastard. Always a tease from day one.

Dabi licks his lips before returning to eating you out even faster as a series of cries and obscenities continue to fall out of your mouth. You can't hold them back. His mouth is so hot and wet against your core.

With another curse, you tell him you are close. A sigh escapes your lips, and your head tosses back onto the cushy arm of the couch. Dabi pulls away but inserts two fingers inside of you in place of his mouth.

"Fuck, sweetheart, as much as I want to hear you beg and plead for me, I want to taste you right now." Dabi lets out with a rough voice filled with desire. You whimper as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. He smirks at your blissed-out face and then returns his mouth to your pussy. His tongue flicks over your clit repeatedly as whines and cries continue to be let out of your mouth. Back arching, you bite at your lip, barely able to even process the words that came out of Dabi just a moment ago.

"Oh, fuck, Dabi, please. Please, I'm gonna cum soon." The words fall from your lips, and your mind feels numb to everything except the feeling of Dabi's tongue on your pussy.

Dabi grunts and gives another hard suck to your clit before pulling away just a bit. "Hell yeah, babe, come all over my face."

Your eyes roll back, and your mouth opens with another cry as your legs begin to tremble as the tension starts to rise in your stomach. One more lick, and you know you'd come. Dabi's continued suckling of your clit sends you careening over the edge. Your cries fill the room, and your back arches as your legs try to squeeze around his head. Dabi continues to suck and lick as you orgasm. Panting and with your eyes twisted shut, you cling to his shirt as you start to come down. A final curse gently leaves your mouth as you wait for your legs to stop shaking. Dabi takes one last long slow lick before sitting back and wiping his face with the back of his hand. You can't bring yourself to move from the couch, still panting and weak.

Your mind starts slowly coming back to you as the bliss begins to leave. The realization of everything happening in the world washes over you. But you were thankful Dabi took the time to distract you from the horrors of what's going on. You move over so Dabi can cuddle with you on the couch. It isn't much room, but it feels good to be this close with him, wrapped in each other's arms. You both slowly start to drift off to sleep, but you don't miss Dabi's final words mumbled into your hair, "I'll never let anything happen to you."

Shortly after that, the world seems to descend into madness. The illness grows more and more rampant. People are getting infected every day. Whether it's through the original source of contamination or by those contaminated biting or scratching someone. Panic spreads throughout the country. But through all of it, you and Dabi stick together.

From the moment it was declared an emergency Dabi was banging at your door, insisting the two of you find somewhere safer than your run-down apartment. Because while the two of you needed sleep, whatever these things are could go non-stop, and your apartment was not fortified.

You and Dabi lost your quirks a month after the emergency declaration, along with the rest of the population. People couldn't fight these zombie-like creatures off anymore. Like all the movies and TV shows, the bodies became more zombies than actual living people.

After a while of jumping around from a destroyed place to another, the two of you found yourself in an apartment building that had a sturdy enough entrance that the zombies couldn't break through. The daily struggles were still hard, though. Finding food and water to survive became a daily task for the two of you. Through all of this, he never left your side. He always insisted the two of you stay together. And so you did. Fighting the living dead, but sometimes the living too when things got even more terrible, and scavenging was your everyday routine now.

You lost track of time and could only follow when the seasons changed. But Dabi was really the only thing getting you through this. Seeing people destroy one another for food or shelter destroyed you inside. Never knowing if these zombies you were killing were someone you had known at one point, or just another faceless dead person tore at every corner of your brain. Dabi stayed strong for the two of you. Holding you every night on the ripped blankets, you could gather for the strange bed the two of you slept in. You would sob into his muscled chest about how you couldn't live in this world anymore, how you couldn't kill another person, alive or dead.

But Dabi would never let go. He would hold you close and let your never-ending tears stain the only shirt he had now. He would rub your back with his warm hands; even though his rusting staples would catch on your shirt and rip from his skin, he still did it. He would hold you until you fell asleep, whispering how strong you were and how he could never do this without you. And after all the tears, you were thankful too. Because without him, you'd be dead or alone. You knew that without Dabi, you would have never survived this long.

But you could see Dabi was hurting too. You couldn't find supplies to treat his decaying skin. He hid his daily pain from you, but when Dabi thought you weren't looking or listening, he would hiss at the pain of another staple pulling at his burnt skin or let out a huge sigh when he would try to put it back together, but it wouldn't cooperate.

The only hope the two of you held onto was each other and that possibly a cure would come soon. Not that either you could really access that information with no electricity; there wasn't any way to get information other than hearsay. You survived the best you could in this world.

And as much as this wasn't what you would have picked for either of you, at least you had each other. You tried not to think of a time when you wouldn't be together, even though the chances of that happening were high- it hurt too much. To survive in this world without Dabi would be too fucking much.

It's almost as if fate chose to play a cruel game with the two of you. It seemed like a "normal" trip out to scavenge for food and water. The two of you had to expand your search area since places closer were mainly empty.

This time you found yourself outside of a convenience store, a reasonable distance away from your home. It hadn't been completely destroyed by some miracle and was not overrun by the zombified people. Still, in a state of decay, though, Dabi was quickly able to kick his heavy boots through the door and get the two of you in.

Sauntering through the gas station, you quickly begin to pick up canned food and stale bags of chips and shove them in your worn backpack. Dabi is doing the same on other aisles until he lets out a chuckle. "Hey babe, look what I found." He says with a cocky voice holding up a few boxes of wrapped condoms above the aisle for you to see.

You roll your eyes. "Thanks, Dabi. Is sex really what we want to be thinking about right now? Let's just get this shit and get out." You let out with an annoyed huff and continue to push the limits of how much your bag can hold.

Dabi comes over to your aisle and snakes his arms around your waist with your back pressed to his chest. He places his chin on your shoulder and whispers in your ear. "Yes, all I can think about is getting your beautiful body back home and finally being able to finish in you, and with these, I can." He lets out a dark chuckle as he pulls you closer against him and bucks his hips playfully.

"Okay, horn dog, let's get this shit done, and then we can do whatever you want back home." You let out with an eye roll. It's hard to stay mad at him. You know he's trying to keep things light for you, to keep you happy because he can see how hard this is. And his regular teasing is one way he knows will bring a smile to your face.

As you are finishing up trying to take inventory of anything else in the store that you can take back, you spot the clear plastic that holds the cartons of cigarettes behind the cashier counter. While you didn't necessarily want Dabi smoking, you knew he missed the vice. Cigarettes were just as hard to find as medicine in this new world. Smiling to yourself, you move behind the counter and reach for the plastic flap to lift it up.

As you try to lift the latch, it doesn't budge. You look around for what might be blocking it before seeing the tiny silver keyhole to one side of the compartment. Crap, of course, it's locked. You really wanted to surprise Dabi with this. Maybe you still could. The key had to be here somewhere, right? You think while scanning around the counter. You try searching through the counters for a hidden key but no luck. Letting out a heavy sigh, you call Dabi over.

Dabi wanders over to your annoyed face and can't help but smile at your slight pout. "I wanted to surprise you! But I can't open it. Can you get it, please?" It comes out almost like a whine as you gesture to the cigarettes.

Dabi's smirk turns into a genuine smile, and he pats the top of your head before saying, "My sweet doll. Thank you for thinking of me. Let me help you out." You could smack him, but instead, you watch as he hastily rips the plastic covering away and slips his hand below it to grab one of the wrapped cartons.

At that moment, everything changes. The fun times the two of you were having shatters as a loud alarm rings through the store. Panic floods your system as you stare at Dabi wide-eyed. "There is no electricity. What's happening? There shouldn't be an alarm." Horror is laced in your voice as words spill out of you. Every walking corpse within miles will be here soon with the sound.

"Fuck, must have had a battery attachment. Come on, let's go." Dabi's usual playfulness is gone as he abandons the cigarettes and grabs your hand. He's grave now. Getting the two of you out of here safely is his only goal.

You follow Dabi quickly, a hand grasped tightly in his as he runs towards the broken-down front door. And that's when even more terror settles into you. Zombies are pushing their way through the open door. Their rotting bodies and white eyes focused on the area where the alarm is coming from. There weren't many around when you broke in, but now it seems like they are multiplying by the moment.

"Fuck fuck fuck." Dabi curses under his breath, quickly turning around and pulling you towards the building's back exit. You follow behind adrenaline surging through your veins fueled by your flight response. Dabi grasps at the metal handle to the back door and shakes it only to find it locked. "Damnit!" he shouts before kicking the door violently.

Your heart is pounding, and you feel helpless as you stare at Dabi while he continues to slam himself at the door. While the front door was glass and flimsier, this door was only budging slightly. With all your focus on the door, you don't notice the continuously growing herd filtering into the gas station. Not until you feel one brush against your shoulder.

Your eyes widen as you feel a scream bubbling in your throat. This is it. This is where the two of you die and either become fodder for a herd of living dead or turn into one yourself. Your brain is pure panic as thoughts fly through faster than you can catch them. You don't even realize you have screamed out Dabi's name until you see his face turn towards yours.

His typically blue eyes are almost entirely covered by his dark pupils as he takes in the monstrosities behind you. But unlike you, he doesn't hesitate. He pulls out a knife he keeps in one of his pockets and slams it into the decaying skull of the zombie that is right behind you. Splurts of dark blood hit your cheek as he pulls out the knife, and the creature behind you crumples to the floor.

"Keep trying the door! I'll keep them off you." Dabi shouts, pulling you into the spot he previously stood. Your heartbeat is so loud you can feel it in your head, and you can't even make a coherent response as you begin to slam your body against the solid surface. You can feel it give a little more with each push of your body, and everything in you is screaming not to give up. Doing your best not to glance at Dabi's grunting and movements as he continues to try and put down zombie after zombie.

You can't give up; this can't be the end . Desperately your brain is screaming as you continue to feel the door give more and more. Your shoulder hurts from the continued impact, but you aren't letting it slow you down. You can feel it; it's almost there.

Suddenly the door gives, and you can see the sun shining through on the other side. You cry out in relief and turn back to tell Dabi to come with you. But as your eyes meet, fear fills every ounce of you.

He's still fighting them off, but there is a gaping bite wound on his right arm— rows of teeth marks embedded in his skin. You feel like you're going to be sick. There is no coming back from this; there's no known cure. At any point within the next twenty-four hours, he would be another one of the walking dead, no sense, no logic, and looking to consume others. This can't be happening, this can't be happening. Your heart is sinking with every second that ticks by.

"What the fuck are you waiting for? Get out! Get out!" Dabi screams at you as he embeds his knife in another zombie.

"No, no, I can't leave without you! I-we can find something. I'll find something, please! Come on, Dabi, I can't do this without you!" You are sobbing now, hot tears streaming through the dirt and blood mixed on your face. An ache in your heart starts to form. You know you don't know how to help him, but you'll do anything to not leave him behind.

Dabi lets out a grin despite the feral dead people closing in on him. And gives you a wink before saying in a voice that seems too calm for the situation, "Come on, doll, you are the most intelligent person I know. You have to go. Live for us, babe. Look at how far we've come. Go show this world that it won't ever break you down. I love you, and I'll come to find you wherever you are in the afterlife and annoy the shit out of you. Now go!"

It's like your heart is being ripped into a thousand pieces. Your breath comes out in short huffs, moving towards hyperventilating. You want to go back to Dabi and cling on for dear life, but you won't let him die in vain. Not after that speech. That would be an insult to everything the two of you have overcome. So with all your strength, you give your lover, the man who has come so far with you, the last look before letting out a final "I love you too" and burst out the door.

You don't look back, aching feet propelling you forward as tears continue to stream and fall off your face. When you first met Dabi, you would have never thought you'd miss him. But you will , you'll miss every snarky comment, every flirty glance, and the tender way only he has loved you. The man that you were sure was just some asshole trying to get laid became the love of your life and sacrificed himself so you could live. And you could never let that go to waste.

#smut pile collab #Dabi x reader #Dabi smut #tw: character death #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #Dabi fanfiction #my fic #how far we've come

277 notes · View notes