#I'M CHECKING NEON OUT AND HE'S NOT HAPPY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cheapshrimpysheep · 8 months

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A Break Under The Lights

SUMMARY: You suggest taking turns for some to rest while others peel potatoes on the boat. You can choose who will pair up with you outside to enjoy the boat lights under the night sky.

CHARACTERS: Port Fest Steering Committee (Floyd, Ruggie, Rook & Jack)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Flirting; Kissing

WARNING: Spoilers from the Port Fest Event; Vignettes from Floyd's Port Wear and Rook's Port Wear

WORD COUNT: An average of 600 words per character.

COMMENTS: I wanted to write something for this event, but I couldn't remember anything. Until I finished the story and saw what they said about the lights on the boat. That was asking to write something romantic about it. I didn't get Jack's card, so I don't know his vignette story. 😔 But I'm pretty happy with what I wrote. 😊

My logic for the order of the characters was: R > SR > SR > SSR

I hope you enjoy 😉

CONTEXT: You were all peeling potatoes in the hold of the boat while talking about the festival. Remembering what they say about the exterior: It’s gotten real quiet since all the guests have gone home at the end of Port Fest.

Ruggie: “The neon lights on the Golden Straw sure are pretty.”

Rook: “Oui, more dazzling then even the stars twinkling in the night sky. I believe they only turn them on for Port Fest.”

Floyd: “So today’s the last day they’ll be on, then.”

Jack: “Yeah. This’ll be our last chance to check them out until next year’s festival.”

And that's why you remembered to suggest that you take turns to rest and enjoy those lights outside. You suggest pairing up and while one pair is outside the other two continue peeling potatoes. And then you take turns. Everyone wants to be paired with you, so they let you choose who you want to be paired with.

“Looks like Koebi-chan is getting slier.” Floyd tells you with that cunning smile of his on his face. You say you don't know what he's talking about, in a tone that shows you're lying. What makes him laugh.

“The break thing was a good idea, thou. I was getting tired of those stupid potatoes.” He walks to the bow of the boat and rests his elbows on the railing as he looks out over the sea below you two.

“I heard you won a music contest.” you tell him, approaching the railing as well. “Congrats”.

“He he. Thanks~ But it was too easy. They were all amateurs.”

“You mean it was a contest for amateurs? And you didn't tell anyone you were already experienced?”

“Nobody asked. Aha ha ha ha.” The disapproving look on your face just makes him laugh harder. When his laughter calms down he adds: “Winning the contest was cool and people applauding me too. But I got pretty fed up with that shoal that wouldn't let go of me.”

“A shoal? Are you talking about literal fish or people?”

“I wish it had been fish. So I could just have eaten them. But no. I'm talking about the people who seen me play the saxophone and have been asking me to keep playing for them.” then he looks at you with that creepy smile “You wouldn't be that annoying, right Koebi-chan~?”

“Awww. I was going to ask you to play something for me. I didn't hear you play in the contest.”

“You saw me play at that concert in the end of Port Fest.” He reminds you. You try to look sad and pout at him. But it doesn't seem to work and he seemingly changes the subject. “What about you? You may not have won first, but I heard that your photo won a good place in a photography contest.”

“Hum? Ah yes. Rook was the one who won first place.”

“And he was the one on your photo, wasn't he?” there was that creepy smile again “It really was a good photo. It deserved the place.”

He gets closer to you. You take a step back and your back ends up meeting the railing of the boat. He grabs the railing, each hand blocking your way out. Looking up you could see his face and the neon lights of the boat above the two of you.

“You took pictures of me too, right?” he was smiling, a little creepily, but he wasn't showing his teeth.

“Of course I took. But I didn't get as good an angle of you as I did of Rook, unfortunately.”

“You have the camera with you, don't you?” He asks. You had. You always carried it with you like a shoulder bag. Floyd lets go of the railing. “So you can take some more now.” His good mood returned in a flash. Mood swinging as always.

You seize this opportunity. A photo of him illuminated by those neon lights at night is sure to be beautiful. You take some pictures of him, until he asks if he can try taking some pictures too. You allow it and hand the camera over to him.

He starts randomly taking pictures, until he stands behind you, with the camera in front of you to take a selfie of you bouth. His chin resting affectionately on your shoulder. He takes a photo. Then kisses your cheek. Takes another photo. And if you turn your head to let him kiss your lips, he'll take one last photo.

Ruggie stretches, his arms up high. “AHHH Freedom... For a limited period of time.” he drops his arms. “Good idea. I really needed a break.”

There are no deckchairs or anything to sit or lie on, so Ruggie just lies down in the middle of the deck with his hands behind his head. “*Sigh* I'm exhausted.” he looks at you standing next to him. “There is enough deck for two if you want to rest too. Didn't you walk around taking pictures? Besides, the neon lights are really pretty seen from here.”

You decide to accept Ruggie's offer and lie down next to him. He was right. Those neon lights with the night sky behind it was really a beautiful sight.

“I heard a photo of yours won a place in that photography contest. Congrats.” he smiles at you. “Did you gain anything else from it?”

“Nah. Just that honourable mention I guess.”

“Not even a free snack? Man, what a prize... You know, if the picture had been of me, maybe I'd have considered giving you a waffle with whatever topping you wanted, for free.”

“Really? Oh, wait. The key word here is considered, isn’t it?”

“Shye hee hee. You're getting to know me too well.”

He's messing with you, so you decide to mess with him too.

“Well, maybe that's why I took that picture of Rook and not of you.”

“Oh yeah?” he sulks a little and his ears tip back. “What did he offer you in return? A bunch of praise?” he looks at you with a mocking expression.

“Better that than a possibility of waffle that in the end I might not even get to have.”

“Fine. I would definitely give you a plain waffle. Better?”

“For free?”

“Yah, for free. Too bad you didn't take a picture of me.”

“Actually, I took some pictures of you too. They just weren't the ones to win the contest.”

“Hmm? Really? Shye hee hee... I can see them?”

You always carried it with you like a shoulder bag. You take it and show the pictures to him. The best one was one you took from him while he was "playing" the broom. He smiles when he sees it. Then he has an idea.

He sits up, while you're still lying down, then turns to you and takes a picture of you. You ask what he's doing as he looks at the picture he just took.

“You have a lot of good pictures of me. It's only fair that I have at least one good picture of you in return. Send me this later will ya? Shye hee hee.”

“Do I still get the free waffle if I send you the pictures?”

“Hey, that was if the photo won something in the contest.” he reminds you. You pout for a second, but accept it. “*Sign* You really are such a goody-goody sometimes.” He leans over and kisses your cheek. “There. How's that for a prize? And for the photos.”

If you say it's not enough, he'll answer with a smirk: “Looks like I'm not the only greedy one here. But that's a higher price. You'll have to let me take more pictures of you in return.”

You agree and he lies down again beside you on deck to kiss your lips.

“Ah, it's so good to be able to enjoy these dazzling neon lights.” Rook inhales as if the scent of the sea is a breath of fresh air. “Merci, Trickster! Et merci for choosing me as your partenaire dans le crime.” he looks at you with his sly smile.

“Crime? What do you mean? Now it's a crime to want a little break to appreciate these lights?” You say, pretending badly that you feel offended. “You yourself said that they only turn them on for Port Fest. We must seize this moment.”

He laughs. “I certainly agree with you.”

You start walking towards the railing at the bow of the boat, leaving Rook behind you. You stop and look back when you hear the sound of a photo being taken. You see Rook holding his digital camera pointed at you and with a smile on his face.

“What are you doing?” you ask

“Exactly what it looks like.” he answers casually “I'm taking pictures of you.”

“Well, yes, I can see that, but what for?”

“Mainly for myself, but if you want me to send them to you it will be my pleasure.” You get flattered and he takes another picture of you. “Beauté~” he whispers to himself before turning back to speak to you. “Unfortunately, I didn't have many opportunities to take pictures of you during the festival. My attention was already quite divided between the food stand and photo ideas for the contest. Although I know that any photo with you as the subject would be beautiful.”

You never know what to say when he starts to praise you like that. He starts walking towards you.

“These lights, this place, this moment are beautiful. And ephemeral. So could I ask you for something très spécial, my dear Trickster?” While one hand holds the camera, the other takes your hand and he leans slightly in a bow to you. “Would you be so kind to model for me on this deck? I'm sure all the photos will be magnifique.”

You take your time to answer, but you end up agreeing. And when you do he kisses the back of your hand. “Merci beaucoup mon cher!”

He asks you to act casually, to lean against the railing as if enjoying the view of the sea, to sit on top of a barrel or even on the deck, to stretch your arms as if you want to reach the neon lights. And every time he comments on how beautiful the photo and you are.

Later, towards the end of the photo session, he takes the hat off his head and puts it on yours. “I had an idea.” And then you see him take off his coat, leaving him in just that tight shirt with the blue and white stripes. He puts his coat on your shoulders like a cape. And keeps taking pictures of you.

“I fear our time is running out.” he says sadly after taking several pictures of you in his hat and coat. “Merci encore, Trickster. Each photo is more beautiful than the last. You were so very kind to let me take pictures of you. I wonder...” he gets closer to you and places his index and thumb on your chin, with that smirk on his face. “what kind of thanks you would most like to get from me.”

If you let him, he will kiss your lips. You will feel the smile on his lips and the adoration he has for you. And you will hear one last sound of a photograph being taken by your side.

“Hey, um, I'm sorry I got you into this mess too.” Jack tells you, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It's okay.” you tell him “Well, I'm not a big fan of peeling potatoes, but at least it allowed me to be here with you.” you smile at him, and he gets flattered. “This neon lights are really pretty. And you said this will be our last chance to check them out until next year’s festival, right?”

“Yeah, we should make the most of them. I'll just go get us some drinks. You must be thirsty too.” He leaves you on deck for a minute and when he comes back he hands you your favourite fresh juice.

You thank him and show him how very happy you are that he knows your favourite flavour of juice. He gets flattered again while saying it's nothing. You two go to the bow rail. You can see how the neon lights reflect in the sea water.

“I heard you won a spot in the photo contest. I'm no photography expert, but I thought the photo was pretty good. Congrats.” He smiles at you, that big smile like he's proud of you.

“Thank you. And you were amazing on the show.” you see him rub the back of his neck as he thanks you. “I also took some pictures of you, you know?”

“Y-you did?!”

You finish your drink and grab your camera to show Jack the pictures. He is so flattered he could blush. And then you show him one you took from him without his coat "playing" the dustbin. You took the photo from the top, and he was smiling so happily that you tell him it's your favourite picture. You leave him speechless of how flattered you make him. And then you look at the boat with those neon lights at night.

“Hey, can I take some more here?” you ask him. “The deck is so pretty with these lights.”

“You want more pictures of me?! Hmm... I... guess that's okay.” His tail is wagging like crazy.

After taking so many photos of the boys, you've already started to realize that the best photos, especially in the case of people like Jack, are the ones where they are more relaxed, not focusing on the camera. So you chat with him and making him more comfortable, only taking pictures here and there.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” He asks you, more comfortable around the camera. “Could we take a picture together? I would like to have something to remind me of this moment.” he says this slightly embarrassed.

You agree and even say it's a great idea. You would love to have a photo with him from that moment too. You decide to put the camera down to take a self-timer photo. But then you think that maybe it's a good idea to let the camera take several pictures, remembering that the best ones are the ones you forget about the camera. And you tell Jack that.

For the first photo you have one arm around each other. Then Jack remembers to take his hat off and put it on your head. He laughs at how cute you look in such a big hat. After that he ends up doing the same with the coat when he sees that you seem to be getting a little cold. It's also way too big on you which just makes you look even cuter in his eyes. His tail goes back to wagging wildly.

You can't take anymore how sweet he is being with you. And you make a gesture for him to bend down as if you were going to whisper something in his ear. But instead, you surprise him with a kiss on the cheek. And he feels entitled to do the same to you.

And if you keep teasing him like this, he'll pick you up so your faces are level and allow you to kiss his lips.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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shadesoflsk · 3 months

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MILLION DOLLAR BLOODLINE — Adam & Eve

A political candidate has been found dead and a well known agent is working alongside you. Check my million dollar bloodline masterlist for general warnings.

Chapter 1

pairing: Vampire/Agent Leon x Fem Detective reader

warnings: Rivals to lovers (Kinda one sided at first because reader doesn't get along with men) misogyny, sexism (from the press) gore, violence, death, suicide, blood, mentions of kidnapping and experimentations, fucked up government.

author's note: Hi! So, this took me longer than I expected lol. I had to delete and redo so many parts but at last I'm comfortable with the result. This is basically an introduction to both characters hence the name I gave to this chapter. I hope you guys like it.

Blinded by the constant flashes of cameras, numerous police officers make their way out of the tumultuousness of journalists and reporters who have gathered —in the name of informing— to be the first ones to publish headlines that will surely raise more commotion in the already horror-stuck citizens.

Thank God the scene of the crime is away from those prying eyes that won’t hesitate to snap a picture or two just for the sake of popularity or being contacted by those trashy and shitty newspapers that fall into the sensationalism homicides and crimes attract.

The eighties are certainly… one of a hell decade to live in. Exuberant neon lights and flashy outfits weren’t enough to silence the crimes that were occurring each day in a city led by white-collared dicks who are ‘better than anyone else.’ The citizens’ words, not yours.

It was easy to despise everyone right now. From those politicians who share their condolences but deep down they have the same fucked up ideal and sentiment—they were happy their enemies keep dying. To the obtuse and short-sighted journalists who kept asking the same questions.

Not even your disdain and witty answers could push them away to the hell hole they came from. Catchy and well-sold tabloids were their objectives and you were the perfect subject to them. A woman in the eighties being the leader of a politic-related case? Oh God, the newspaper loves dragging down women.

Misogynistic terms were chanted even more than the national damn anthem. “God, spare us from a woman leading this case!” “Is this a new gold digger searching for a politician that isn’t dead?” Those were the most ‘tame’ titles they could come up with. However, rumor has it that directors and journalists love calling you names. Ultimately, those whispers die down as soon as the window from your Porsche 959 rolls down and the flashes of cameras turn your way.

“Ma’am we received news that the body you found was in fact, Mr. Clark. Our Major Candidate. Is there any clue this time?” The young journalist asked you. He was definitely a rookie, that ma’am that fell so easily from his lips, and his stance gave it away. Maybe you could be softer with him, aggressiveness was starting to wear you off.

You take out your sunglasses, the snaps of the pictures get harder to bear but for once, you try holding eye contact with this said journalist. In his gaze, you admire his inexperience and eagerness to get something out of this conversation.

Sadly, there’s nothing to offer from a lifeless body and a pool of blood that could flood the entire apartment of the deceased.

“It’s still unknown. We shall wait for the forensic team to provide us with the results of the autopsy.” Your voice is uninterested, an automatic reaction each time a question is asked.

“So… The police department is once again showing signs of inability to complete a case?”

Fuck them all. All of them.

A few hours ago, you had received a call which informed you about the disappearance of a candidate, a major candidate. Of course, a crime would occur when the elections were just around the corner. A perfect scenario to bring the already most famous and glamorized case in the decade more mystery and gore.

A disappearance meant a homicide, it would take just minutes before you were notified that a body had been found.

And you were right.

Eventually, a coworker of yours informed you—with an annoyed expression on their face— that a drained body was found in an apartment.

Working on two cases simultaneously was definitely tiring, and it was starting to show on your face. On one hand, multiple crimes are occurring in Raccoon City, all of them involving people from high society: CEOs, ex-presidents, and candidates. Idle good-for-nothing people who can wipe their asses with a one hundred dollar bill, to put it simply.

Difficult to deal with was an understatement. Everyone at the police station knew one thing though— someone important is leaking information. This said individual doesn’t want to get their hands dirty with blood. Acting like a vendetta, in the darkness, they are cleaning the government in a way.

However, the catch of this case was rather sui generis—not even decipherable. Corruption was the root of all problems and it even showed in various scenes of the crime. Politicians were found dead in certain ways that didn’t match up with their own lifestyles. Suicides, disappearances, homicides without a murder weapon. Someone important must be behind all of this and those victims were merely their pawns.

And on the other hand, a case that seems to get more sinister and fucked up was brimming in the shadows. One that also involved those who justice can’t reach. Besides politicians disappearing, numerous citizens were also missing without a trace. Families were left alone without their breadwinning fathers, without their nurturing mothers, and especially without their loved ones.

The government’s reputation was unmistakable, they didn’t care. Protests were organized without any response or reassurance that a solution would be provided. And then again, the damnation and torment of those who searched through hell and earth was once again brought to them.

Without further ado, you walked out of the police department and embarked on the fantastic journey of seeing another dead body. Not the best sight to see after having your lunch but if you don't go, no one else will.

You arrived at the scene of the crime and luckily, you didn’t run into any reporters, word hadn’t reached them yet. You showed your ID to the cops that surround the apartment complex, they let you in.

The excruciating silence as you wait in the elevator was always agonizing. It allowed your mind to create the most gut wrenching scenarios. You’re a veteran at this point, you have seen 10 dead politicians over the course of the months. However, it doesn’t get any easier.

The first thing that welcomed you as the door of the elevators opened again was the metallic smell of blood. With a deep breath, you fixed your hair and expected the worst.

“Good morning everyone.” Your voice rang through the living room of the apartment. There was no trace of violence or self defense, but the rancid reek continued filling your nostrils. Nonetheless, the authority in your voice never faltered, you simply didn’t allow it.

Acting tough was the norm and giving no shit about anyone was the rule that followed. It’s always been like that. You can’t crack jokes or show a smile just like your male superiors can. Bullshit, you thought. People love saying that the 80s are the best, but everyone is fucking misogynistic.

When you saw that your team had your attention, you proceeded. “Where’s the body?”

“Inside.” A cop said. He was a veteran, the wrinkles forming around his eyes and the one-word phrase told you as much. “There’s a federal agent there, though.”

A federal agent?

It was a matter of time before the government decided to send one of its people. They should have after the first one. But as you already know, they’re scavengers, they don’t give a damn about the country nor themselves. If the death of a candidate could bring more votes to another party, they would close their eyes for the sake of it.

“Anything I may know before going inside?” You ask.

“Nothing much. The state of the body is the same as the ones we have found before.” The dull and repetitive tone of his voice was proof of how everyone was getting frustrated with this case. “Although this one really looks like a suicide.”

Interesting, a politician who actually killed himself instead of being killed.

“Thank you.” Your legs worked on their own and strode off to where the body was. The main bedroom. For a moment, you hesitated to turn the knob around. Your eyes were fixated on your red nails —the same color you’re expected to see once you enter the room.

And you were right, your gaze which was now looking at the floor only witnessed the ruby red color that painted the rug. And, as your eyes traveled, you observed the man who was lying lifeless on the floor.

Your eyes then stopped when you noticed the man who had his back facing you. 5'10 inches with dirty blond hair, black leather jacket that hugged his figure just right. Undoubtedly, the build of an agent yet you couldn’t care less about his appearance right now.

Clearing your throat, you made your presence known. Even though a part of you believed that this man must have heard you as soon as you entered the scene of the crime.

He turned around and you could see the solemn expression that soon turned into a polite smile. So, the blue-eyed male that was in front of you was the federal agent the government has sent? Interesting.

“Hello. You may be the leading detective of this case, right?” There is no accent in his voice nor a belittling hint in his speech. You were used to being questioned about your position or straight up told not to waste time before you could even identify yourself.

“Indeed.” You nodded before stepping closer and showing him your badge which had your name and occupation there. There’s a moment of silence before Leon speaks again, with a faint smile on his lips.

“Kennedy. Leon Kennedy.” He stated his name, a muffled chuckle leaving after his phrase.

At first, you remained expressionless, not expecting this stoic ‘professional’ to introduce himself in a rather comical way. Not when there’s a dead body lying at his feet.

“What are you? James Bond?” You were genuinely dumbfounded.

“Do I look the part?” He had a hand on his hip, casually standing in front of you. If audacity and lack of decorum had a name, it would have Leon written at the top of a dictionary. “I'd call myself hilarious, though.”

“Kinda goofy, I'd say.” You retorted, walking past him and looking through your pockets to pull out a pair of gloves, the sound of latex being stretched followed your answer. This part was always the hardest, even when the body has been already inspected by the team of criminalists, you ought to re-check.

“Let's keep it at funny.” His eyes darted to where your figure was, the scent of your perfume couldn’t override the constant smell of blood but he could sense the faint aroma of coconut and vanilla.

"So... the government sent you?" You adjusted your gloves as your eyes locked on Leon's. His blue eyes were piercing yet they weren't threatening.

"Yup." Leon crossed his arms as he continued watching you. "Kinda late, I'd say. Mr Clark was... the eighth victim?"

"The eleventh." You corrected him.

"Damn, they keep falling like dominoes."

You crouch down to inspect the body, there’s nothing visibly new compared to the other subjects of the crime. Lifeless eyes, and a nasty open wound on his forehead which resembled a shot. But other than that? Nothing much.

“Agent Kennedy, I don't think you're being professional.” You absentmindedly trailed off as you checked the candidate’s finger, paying close attention to his nails. Just in case this wasn’t a suicide case and there was DNA left in the victim’s nails.

“You're right.” He shrugged off as he sighed. He had done his part of the job before you arrived, so his presence was no longer required there. However, he stayed. “But then again, do you truly care for that asshole?”

Your ears perked at Leon’s sudden question. Sure, your disdain for politicians wasn’t exactly a secret. Everyone at the station knew about your hatred for the rich. But needless to say, you weren’t expecting the government’s boy to speak in such a manner.

Nor did you anticipate that he knew about you.

“Careful. Aren’t you supposed to be an agent?” Your demeanor slightly shifted into a more serious one. One that warned him he shouldn’t stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. And while you were a rightful civilian who actually wanted to restore peace in the city. If this rumor reached the newspaper, it would be the end for you.

“Sure. But that doesn’t mean I’m fond of them.” And Leon wasn’t dumb, not at all. He caught the meaning behind those simple yet blunt words. “Or are you going to tell me you like working for your boss?”

“I’m the boss here.” Your expression quickly turned sour as Leon expressed his own opinions. You just noticed the tick of a clock, a persistent noise that only served to highlight the already growing tension.

See, you weren’t a bland person, far from that. You appreciate jokes and even engage in light-hearted teasing with your friends. Not with colleagues.

But at that moment, antics and pranks weren’t something you easily accepted. Living to be compared to men who were incapable next to you built walls that made it impossible to reach your core, to your true self.

“See? Maybe your subordinates don’t like you.”

“You should learn when to stop biting, Mr Kennedy.”

Leon just laughed and shook his head. His eyes stopped being focused on yours and decided to gaze through the large window the room had. The perfect view of the city was in front of him, a perfectly corrupted place.

A welcoming silence—after their awkward banter— set in. You took this opportunity to ask for more information related to the dead candidate. As you let go of his hand, you got up and took off your gloves.

“So… Agent, any background information the now deceased may have?”

“Besides the obvious? Not really.” A sigh slipped from the blue-eyed man. “He had a beautiful wife and beautiful kids. The white picket fence kind of life.”

“Minus the obvious opulent lifestyle he had.” You said.

“Minus the obvious opulent lifestyle he had, indeed.” Leon replies in tandem.

He shook his head, letting out a sigh you didn’t know he was holding. A headache was already brewing and you simply massaged your temples. The sensation of running in circles was once again setting and penetrating your mindset—there’s no clue to even pinpoint the cause of so many crimes.

“There’s nothing else here. Maybe your coworkers have something you could work with?”

And while you felt frustrated for not being able to do more, you let your irritation die down as you nodded.

As both of you exited the scene of the crime, flashing lights and camera shutters could be heard around the building as if they were annoying bugs that wouldn’t stop bothering you. Mosquitoes sucking the blood out of your systems.

Between noises and judging stares from the journalists, Leon’s stride led him to his bike that was just parked in front of your car. As you could already guess, the lenses of the cameras were getting the perfect take for tomorrow’s diary, especially since people love to read about the woman of the year being close to a man. To assert their sexist stance.

“Hey,” Leon called you, his voice barely audible as the constant background noise was still pretty much present. “Take this with you.”

A confused expression set on your face as you eyed the manila envelope Leon gave you. Before you could even open it to inspect what documents were in front of you, Leon’s voice stopped you.

“I don’t think it’d be wise of you to open that here.” Your attention returned to the blond man who was now putting on his helmet. Immediately, you pressed the folder against your chest, protecting the contents inside of it.

“What's it?”

“You’ll know later.” His hands gripped the handlebars, already turning on the engines. “For now, don’t do anything stupid.”

Haunted by the plethora of degrading terms you were called, your first instinct was to roll your eyes as you watched the agent driving away from the building and from the horde of journalists.

Nonetheless, a part of you couldn’t help but read between the lines. Leon hasn’t been particularly cruel to you like every other cop or colleague. So, his statement could be related to what’s inside the folder.

For now, you simply walked towards your car. Or rather, tried. Ready to be cornered by the starved media while cops attempted to serve as a protective wall around you.

Who am I if not exploited, abused, and corrupted?

A question that used to haunt Leon’s dreams and nightmares. His life purpose has been nothing but being the Government's puppet. Images and memories of being exploited and destroyed build up the man he is now.

Or rather, the beast.

In the search of the ultimate soldier, who would fight against every adversity. A creature that didn’t belong to this world was created. The once human could no longer be classified as one, and he gained the name of a vampire.

His hunger for food was replaced by a maddening and unbearable desire for the vital fluid of blood and his right to die was robbed from him as numerous experiments proved that, in fact, no human weapon could kill him now.

Leon’s spirit was bonded to eternity therefore dying meant nothing to him. He doesn’t belong to life since his humanity was stripped away from him the moment he sold his soul to the nation. But death didn’t want him either, since now mortality runs away from him as the monster he has become.

It was a statement he grew accustomed to. The world was cruel and he was reduced to a simple and mere battle machine. The best weapon the nation had.

Although, he knew he was far from being the best arsenal the government could come up with.

They were greedy. It's always been that way. And the moment the disappearances started, Leon's nature was once again brought to the surface.

It all started when he once switched to a News Channel. The slow and grim music was playing in the background as the headline read: NEWS REPORT: FATHER OF TWO IS MISSING. Followed by another update that indicated he was the third man who has disappeared in May.

No hell could be hot enough for whoever was behind all of this. However, Leon was terribly sure that this case wasn’t something orchestrated by just one individual. The anger he had so deeply buried now flourished as a flower. Yet this time it came with thorns that would cut and stab those who wished nothing but to set the world in despair.

He didn’t wait. If he stood still more innocent people would pay the price of being victims of the same destiny he faced.

— August 14, 1987 —

Mr Clark,

I send my most sincere congratulations to you as I’ve come to know that you’re people’s favorite candidate. I’m so sure your image must be impeccable and flawless to reach such level of popularity.

However, It’s so strange to me that as a public figure, you condemn those corrupted politicians who indulge in nothing but richness, crime, and sinful activities when your past (and present) does nothing but stain your image.

But, I’m a generous individual. I’ll give you two options which you can choose from. You come out clean, show everyone the type of sick criminal you are or, you simply end your life. Easy, right?

After all, you didn’t hesitate to end someone else’s.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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crusty-chronicles · 10 months

Text

Airheaded S/O Headcannons #10: Kurapika (HxH)

He is completely dumbfounded by you

Like how did you end up working for the Nostrade family?

How did you even manage to become a hunter?

You have to be faking, right?

I mean nobody just loses Neon's new diamond earrings.

Nobody just trips and takes a whole countertop with them. (Marble countertop if he may add)

Nobody just forgets they can use nen?

"What's your ability?"

"Sometimes if I squint real hard, I can see in the dark."

"Your nen ability????"

"Oh! Don't remember!" 😃

Finds out you are in fact not faking

It kinda reminds him of Leorio

But at least Leorio could read and doesn't have the attention span of a goldfish.

Sometimes he swears he can hear your single braincell rattle around in your head when someone's shaking you in their frustration.

It worries him why you were hired to be a bodyguard

Mainly because the Nostrades had been very thorough selecting candidates.

And you were here before his team got selected.

So Kurapika has a hunch.

He'll make Melody ask you questions and check your heartbeat for lies.

And every ridiculous answer you gave was true

Which irritated him a little

He didn't want a braindead idiot to get in the way of his goal

Buuuuut his opinion of you changes for the better after his fight with Uvogin

He came back feeling defeated, even though he won

The blood on his hands was icky and he had gotten no information out of the ordeal.

The only thing he left with was an even worse hatred for the Phantom Troupe.

The very same people who didn't remember they had massacred an entire clan.

He arrived at the hotel when mostly everyone had left.

Everyone except you and Melody.

He eyes were still that scarlet color, not bothering to hide them.

Then he felt arms wrap around him and went to lash out, wanting anything but to be touched right now.

Except his movements stopped completely

And he became completely calm and relaxed.

"Your eyes are really pretty like this, but I don't like you mad. Just calm down a little, okay?" It was you.

And why had you said that to someone you barely knew?

Why were you trying to comfort him?

And why had he let you?

He realized this was your ability: controlling emotions. Or at least altering them.

It was...nice

He hadn't been hugged in a while.

And yours was warm.

The scarlet at last fading away.

"Thank you for that... I appreciate it."

From then on he's seeking you out.

With melody, he has to be cautious with what he says.

He doesn't want to say anything that would frighten her or complicate things for himself.

But if he's talking with you, he could say just about anything and you'd listen.

You would have no clue what he was talking about, but you would be there.

And it was like talking to a wall

Except the wall brought temporary joy into his very dark and devoid world.

A bright light that couldn't be darkened no matter what thanks to your naivety.

And maybe it's endearing when you trip on air in public and say-

"I'm stumbling over my success."

Maybe it makes him smile when you ask about his nen chains and narrow it down to 'a portable prison.'

Maybe he does want you to fill the silence he's used to with ramblings about 'why vases are too fragile these days.'

He may like you, but his motive comes first.

His clan's eyes will always come first

However, he can't stop himself from indulging with what might be a happy future with you.

Especially after seeing you cave someone's skull in with one punch during a task from the Nostrade family.

He's so relieved that yes, you had great physical strength and a useful ability.

It means he'll let you follow him to fulfill his vengeance against the Spiders

He only babies you when it's something serious.

Like if you're about to chop your finger off while cooking.

He's running into the kitchen and taking the knife from you.

"Y/n, what do you have?"

"A knife 😃😃😃"

"NO!"

Or if you're about to get hit by a car because you saw something cool across the street.

He's using his chains to pull you back, and then proceeds to lecture you for the next ten minutes.

But anything else?

No. You can figure it out.

If you're lost, you'll find him eventually.

If you swapped out the pepper and salt, he's laughing, but hopes you learned your lesson.

You brought the wrong item at an auction?

Good luck explaining that to Neon and her father

Doesn't buy you fancy things because he knows you don't care about stuff like that.

Instead, he'll leave you little notes where he knows you'll find them.

He tried to take you to a nice restaurant for dinner claiming it was to 'Keep up the Nostrade's Appearances'.

It was just him being a little embarrassed to admit it was a date.

And you know what happened?

You two got kicked out because you kept breaking the fancy silverware and plates.

But it did make him laugh to see you try to hide the evidence under the table cloth

Calls you: my love, dearest, sunny, little clown, baby (derogatory), and if he's feeling playful-mighty warrior.

He has trouble communicating, so having a stable relationship is difficult.

But he tries, even if he's not there all that much.

Won't feel jealous, but instead a little insecure that you would get bored and leave.

Even if he knows you're a fool with a heart of gold and would never do that

It's just the part of his brain that has to consider every possible outcome.

But if the way your eyes light up every time you see him, even if it's just been five minutes, is anything to go by....

Then he has absolutely nothing to worry about.

Kurapika just hopes his pursuit of his clan's eyes don't scare you away or dim the light you bring with you.

UP NEXT: Monkey D Luffy

MASTERLIST

An: Sorry it took longer than usual, the fucking heat is draining and it makes me lazy 🫠

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter x y/n #hxh x reader #hxh x y/n #kurapika x reader #kurapika headcanons #kurapika kurta #hxh kurapika #airhead s/o #stronk s/o

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starrystevie · 1 year

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"ids?" the curly headed bouncer asks and honestly, for a seedy hicktown bar, steve's surprised they have a bouncer at all, let alone one who looks that good under dim neon lights.

he can feel robin, ever the queen of nonchalance, freeze next to him before shoving her hand into her vest pocket and fumbling around for her fake. steve on the other hand pulls his license confidently out of his wallet and holds it out for the guy to see, turning to ask robin a question.

"so what are you going to get first-"

"no good, buddy." the bouncer looks regretful and already has his sharpie in hand to mark the back of his hand. steve sputters and drops his hand before double checking that he pulled out his id and not something dumb like a frozen yogurt punch card or family video membership card.

"what do you mean, 'no good'? how can it be no good? robin-"

his license isn't expired, it's not a fake, his face is clearly there and visible in all it's beautiful glory, and it should be able to get him into some shitty dive with no problem. the bouncer already has robin's hand in his and making a large black x on the back as she grins sheepishly at steve.

"sorry, i had to cave," she whispers while inspecting the marker lines under the dingy street light. "it's not exactly the most convincing fake."

"and you," the bouncer interrupts with a finger pointing in steve's direction and a very attractive smirk that steve is absolutely not going to think about later, "are a few weeks shy of 21, so give me your hand."

steve scowls, eyebrows pulled together and crosses his arms over his chest. "oh, come on man... look. i wasn't even going to get anything hard, just a beer or something. gotta be good to drive this thing home, you know?"

he hears robin squawk at being called a thing and bats his hand away from where he gestured to her with his thumb. he hears the bouncer laugh at either steve or robin, he's not sure, but he's very sure that he wants to hear the laugh again. he smiles in return, tries to flash the harrington charm to worm his way out of being resolved to ginger ale all night and he thinks he might have cracked the guy but then-

"nice try, pretty boy." his hand is being pulled up and the cool tip of the sharpie is pressing into his hand. steve rolls his eyes, ignores robin cackling in the background and crowing something about how it serves him right, and looks down to see the bouncer writing even more on his hand than just an x.

there's a scrawl of numbers underneath the black lines that force him to stay sober followed by a name, eddie, and a smaller x followed by o. cute, he thinks, and feels his cheeks flare up like a light.

"steve, let's go!" robin yells through the doorway as the band they came to see kicks up, the smooth voice of their singer already greeting the crowd through the tinny speakers.

"for later, if you want." the bouncer smirks and pats the back of steve's hand, his fingers trailing over the drying marker in a very not subtle way, leaving fire in it's wake. "i get off at 1 and i have beer that i'm willing to share without the eyes of the law following us. consider it an early birthday present, steve."

steve gives him a smirk in return and nods before turning to follow robin into the bar, throwing a wink over his shoulder. "happy birthday to me, then."

#can you imagine that i tried to make this a short lil hc and instead ended up writing like way more than i intended #the crowd pretends to be shocked #i literally have so much work to do today and i chose to do this instead whoops #steddie #steddie headcanon #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet

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respectthepetty · 11 months

Text

So . . .

I'm fucked.

Pisaeng is now my baby boy, and I'm fully invested in his well-being. He took so many hits this episode, and I'm taking it personally.

Let's recap exactly how this episode hurt Piseang's and my feelings because I need to make sure I deliver the maximum damage to myself:

Kawi telling Piseang that he is intentionally creating distance between them because Pisaeng makes him feel uncomfortable and unsafe in front of the pink neon light and sign that reads "Extending our friendship, connection, and happiness to you all" was the cherry on top of this shitty pain sandwich.

Kawi chasing Pisaeng to the parking lot just to shove money into his face, so he won't owe Pisaeng anything.

DJ Squirtle! Pisaeng was so excited to give Kawi this, only to throw it at him from the car after such a horrible day.

Pisaeng turned down Pear's invite, but lit up when Kawi invited him out for drinks, only to be ambushed by a group that included Knot.

Pisaeng mentioned not being comfortable around him. Knot is misogynistic and Kawi KNOWS he is an asshole in the future, yet Knot keeps making comments about Pisaeng's sex life and the fact that they went to an all-boys school. Knot also mentioned believing Kawi was with Max (aka GAY), so is Knot homophobic and this is another reason Pisaeng does not want this dumpster in his life?

On the topic of Max, my other baby boy - Is this the reason for their dispute? Max could be gay and Kawi didn't like the implication that they might be in a relationship? Also, he was supposed to meet Max later. Did he? Or did he go out with Knot and the guys instead? He check-marked Max off his list, but this won't be as simple as he is making it if he continues to be friendly with Knot if his issues with Max really do stem from queerness.

Back to my other baby boy - Pear does like Pisaeng, but more importantly, IS MY BABY BOY DEPRESSED?! He is lonely. His old friends suck. His new friend said he makes him uncomfortable. He doesn't want to feel the pressure from Pear's dad. What is his relationship with his own parents? WHO IS THERE FOR MY BOY?!

He looked like he was going to cry in that classroom when Kawi told him he was annoying. He was trying to keep his shit together but was *this* close to having a breakdown when he was scrambling to gather his stuff so he could haul ass out of there. He didn't even turn in the quiz.

LOOK AT HIM!

I'm glad Kawi chased after him, but Pisaeng is really begging for someone to care about it, yet Kawi refuses.

He is quick to forgive and share his food with Kawi, so when Kawi told him that he is bothered by Pisaeng's behavior (thinking it's funny when Kawi is upset), Pisaeng clearly looked pained to know he unintentionally hurt Kawi. He wanted to fix it, but Kawi left immediately when Knot showed up.

Kawi turning down every offer Pisaeng extended to hang out upset him, and he even mentioned it later in the classroom. He tried to joke it off in the class, but he was hurt when it happened.

He went from being happy seeing Kawi and Pear together, to being somber since the realization of what he set in motion hit him.

Because he likes Kawi, a guy he can't have.

And he has liked him the entire time. TEN YEARS!

The worst part of all of this is Kawi isn't bad. He is trying to fix this, yet is delivering the most blows to my guy. He doesn't want Pear to be hurt in the future, so he must keep his distance from Pisaeng. He doesn't want to owe Pisaeng, so he pays him back. He doesn't want Pisaeng to be lonely, so he tries to mend his friendships. He wants his life to be better, which includes befriending Max again, saving his dad's life, and being with Pear, but he is missing what is right in front of him. He needs Pisaeng for his life to be better.

And then next week?!

Yeah, so like I wrote.

I'm fucked.

#be my favorite #be my favorite the series #pisaeng x kawi #is this show about to be a Hot Tops for me?#Pisaeng is my baby boy and I'm about to fight everyone in this show #Treat him with kindness and love!#And then Max!#I can't believe this is happening #I'm feeling feelings for the pursuer in a JittiRain show

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sheepiemc · 8 months

Text

Seven Stupid Reasons to Summon a Demon

Reason #2: drunk and can’t get home

CW: implied alcohol use (MC is drunk)

You’re on an empty street.

You don’t know what time it is but last time you checked it was definitely after midnight.

You concentrate and think and wonder what it is that you're supposed to be thinking about. It was definitely something important… you pat your pockets to look for clues, there's gotta be a reason you were thinking so hard in the first place.

You pull out your phone from its secret safe spot and check it for messages. Nope, just blackness. No juice… Juice… Blame it on my juice… Your eyes wander from your dead phone to the myriad of stamps and fluorescent paper wristbands decorating your forearms. The neon clashes with your outfit but the colors make you happy. Blame it, blame it on my juice! The song continues playing in your head and you start to dance.

Your feet throb with pain and all you know is you have to sit down right now. Normally you wouldn't dare to sit on a dirty street curb but your legs almost give out from under you before you can even think twice about where you are planting your ass. Ah, that feels so much better… but the sudden change in altitude makes your head spin. You put your head between your knees to steady the world.

You take a deep breath and hold it…

1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7…

Why are you counting again?

Your lungs burn and you remember to breathe. You start to giggle uncontrollably. What kind of idiot forgets how to breathe? You look back down at your phone and something sparkly catches your attention.

It's the Harrison Porter keychain Mammon gave you. It's too big to be a phone Keychain but it's something you like to keep on you at all times. You absent-mindedly spin the keychain and watch it dangle from your phone. Your favorite idiot probably doesn't forget how to breathe… Do demons even need to breathe? They're so fucking weird already it wouldn't surprise you.

You keep giggling, shoulders bouncing, when a warm gold light washes the floor beneath your feet. You would've noticed it if your eyes weren't closed with how hard you were laughing.

A startled noise interrupts your thoughts and you look up to find your favorite idiot, standing right in front of you, with a worried look hiding behind yellow tinted glass.

You gasp and clumsily shoot to your feet, ignoring the throbbing protest of pain, and throw your arms around the demon, "Mammoney!!" If you didn't have his neck in a vice grip, you might've noticed his face reddening at the silly nickname.

"M- MC… were you just crying?" He asks warily. You can hear the concern in his voice.

You loosen your arms - but don't remove them from around his neck - and look at him. When your eyes meet his searching ones, you cock your head to the side and blink a couple of times. The gesture reminds Mammon of a dog trying to understand English. You touch a hand to your face to feel if any stray tears were rolling down but you catch nothing.

You return your hand back around Mammon’s neck and shake your head slightly, "I don't think so?"

"B- but you were sitting on the curb… a- and you were shaking?"

You turn your head to look over your shoulder and back down to where you were sitting. You take a moment to think about what you were doing just a moment ago.

"Hmmm…" You think audibly.

"Well, if you weren't cryin’ then what did ya summon me for?"

You turn your head back around to look at Mammon… What did you summon him for?

"And why are you in the middle of a street all alone?? What time is it?!"

"Ugh, so many questions…" you close your eyes and plant your forehead against his chest.

Time… time… You can check the time on your… phone! You pop your head up and check your phone!

Oh right… it's dead.

You show Mammon your blank phone. He grabs your wrist and inspects the stamps and bands.

"Wha- MC… are you drunk??"

"Whaaat? Pshhh, noooo I'm having fuuun…" you slide your arms from behind his neck and down his arms. You grab his hands and start swinging them. "The night is still young! Now that you are here, the party is just getting started!"

You let go of him and spin out into the empty street, dancing to music only you can hear. If your inebriated mind were paying any attention, you might’ve heard mammon whisper, "That explains it…" under his breath.

"Okay,” he says, louder so you know he’s talking to you, “maybe you can answer this: shouldn't you be out with friends? Where are they?"

You stop dancing and squint at Mammon.

"Friends? Some friends! They ditched me!" You fold your arms and pout at the memory just now surfacing.

You're new at work and you really wanted to make new friends. You overheard some co-worker’s plans to go clubbing this weekend and were excited by how fun it sounded. You asked if you could come along and they agreed politely, though with the way they were acting all night you really wish they had just said no from the jump.

"I was basically a third wheel until I was a fifth wheel, then I lost them in the third club…"

You feel an angry warmth radiating off Mammon as he practically snarls, "Those jerks… What if something happened to you out here?" You calmly approach and wrap yourself around his tense arms.

"Don't worry about that, now I have you to protect me, Mammoney." You press your cheek against his bicep and you can feel him tense again before he relaxes. You look up to him and see that cute dusting of red across his cheeks before he looks pointedly away from you.

You entwine both of your hands with one of his and pull him, "C'mon… let's go have some fun!!"

Mammon looks back at you, redness fading, and searches your face for something. You tug harder, letting practically your full body weight fall to the earth, with Mammon being the only thing keeping you from hitting the ground. You try to take another step back when a sharp pain prevents you from going any further.

You cry out and Mammon quickly pulls you into him. He fully supports you with a hand against your lower back. You look down at your feet. Man, they hurt. You let out a small whine and Mammon sighs.

"As much as I would love to go out with you right now,” he says, reluctantly, “I think it's time for you to head home…"

"But I wanna partyyyy," you look up at him and whine again.

"You can't even stand up on your own."

"SO true bestie…" You slump against him, cheek pressing to his chest. You hear mammon softly chuckle and mutter, "I'm supposed to be the irresponsible one here." He lightly pushes you off him so he can shift around with his back facing you.

"Alright, let's go."

You sway on your feet and cross your arms in protest. "BUT I'm too heavy!" He looks back at you from over his shoulder, grinning wolfishly.

"Need I remind you, you are talkin’ to THE great Mammon, second -most POWERFUL Avatar of Sin in the Devildom! And you ain’t nothing but a puny human." He crouches down so you can climb on his back much easier. "Now, c'mon! We gotta get you to a bed… and some water probably. When's the last time you had water, huh?"

You drape your arms over his shoulders and wrap your legs around his waist. He stands up, lifting you with no effort at all. You tighten your arms around his neck and close your eyes. Comfy…

Mammon chuckles. Oops, did you say that out loud?

"Alright, human, where are we headin'?" He says with so much affection, your heart swells.

Until you process what he says and remember you have no idea where you are or where that is in relation to where you live. Your eyes shoot open.

"UHHHH…"

"Whaddaya mean 'UHHHH'??"

"WELL! I UBERPOOLED HERE! And My phone is dead!! You know how bad I am at directions!!"

Mammon sighs in frustration. "How the hell are we supposed to get you home…?" He asks, more to himself than you.

"Well! Can't you do some Devildom magic and just whoosh us right over there or something??" You reply indignantly.

"Ya know teleportation magic is kinda a big deal right? And even if I could right now, I don’t even know where ya live!"

You blow raspberries, deep in thought. You didn't even know your address that well because you had just recently moved. Curse your shoddy memory!

Mammon sighs again and starts walking, which startles you out of thought. "Woah, what-"

Before you can finish, Mammon interrupts, saying "Might as well pick a direction and start walking. Beats standing around doing nothing."

"Wait, wait, wait…" you bring a hand to your forehead and start rubbing, activating the memory juices. Maybe there's something Solomon taught that you could use?

"Oh! Let me try something!" You stick out the hand that wears the ring of light and concentrate on home.

"MC… what are you doing?" Mammon asks.

"Shut up, I need to concentrate. Trust me, I saw it in a movie once."

"Movies ain't very realistic, MC."

You close your eyes and ignore him and think think think: about home, where you're most comfortable, where you can be your true self and not have to hide any facets of yourself.

You open your eyes and are actually surprised when you see a red line shooting out of your ring… and pointed directly behind you!

You laugh triumphantly! "SEE! It worked!"

Mammon looks impressed for a second before rolling his eyes dramatically and turning around, "Well, ya got lucky this time but don't expect things to work out the way you want them to just because you want them to."

You pshh him dismissively before noticing that as he turns around, so too does the line pointing home.

"Uhh…" you move your hand around and notice that no matter where you move, it always points to where you're standing.

"Hold on, lemme down." You let go of Mammon as he crouches to let you off his back. You take a step back from him and realize what the line is pointing at.

You slowly circle Mammon and start grinning like a fool when you step out in front of him, holding out the hand with the ring. The thin red line points directly to the center of Mammon’s chest. His eyes widen as they trace the line to his chest and his eyebrows attempt to leave his face altogether. He looks back up at you and the red on his cheeks spreads all across his face, down his neck and to the tips of his ears.

“MC what-” he sputters.

You burst out laughing and quickly cover your mouth. “Oh that’s so cheesy, I love it!” You just can’t help the giggles that escape.

Mammon scoffs and looks to the side, attempting to hide his blushing face behind his hand. You run up to him and wrap your arms around his middle and rest your cheek on his chest.

You close your eyes.

You can hear his heart thumping.

“You’re my home, Mammon.”

“I mean- of course, I am. I’m THE-”

You shush him, “Nooo, nope, don’t say it- let me savor this moment before you ruin it.”

Mammon chuckles softly and wraps his arm around you. He clears his throat and says, “As cute as that was, it doesn’t get us any closer to getting you to your… apartment or whatever.”

Your eyes shoot open again.

“Oh yeah,” You pull out of his embrace just enough to look down at the ring on your hand. “Maybe home was too vague… I guess the ring in the movie also pointed to a person rather than a place.”

You think apartment? But the ring doesn’t point away from Mammon. Hmmm… bed? Still nothing.

“OH!” you say out loud, “what about my sweet little boy, my prince??”

Mammon looks at you incredulously. “Who???”

“My cat!!”

Right before you close your eyes to concentrate, you see the relief in Mammon’s face as he quietly says, “Oh…”

You picture his fuzzy face in your mind, his cute whiskers, his soft paws. “Hey, it’s workin’!” Mammon says as the line starts to twitch. As you get more excited about seeing your little bean, the thin red line gets stronger.

“Alright, let’s goooooo!” Mammon picks you up bridal style and takes off running. You shriek and laugh, holding onto his neck and shoulders for dear life, knowing he would never let you fall.

#obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me mc #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #mammon fluff #happy birthday mammon!!#originally posted on ao3 #but i want attention so im posting on tumblr too now lol #if u kno the movie im referencing i give u a kees #op #fic

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pinkiealexie · 2 years

Text

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇.𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ♡ 𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘰 𝘏𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘰

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❥ REQUESTED: Anonymous

❥ REQUEST:

"Hello ‼️ I liked you raph hcs and I was wondering if you can do Leo hcs?"

❥ WARNINGS: None!

[ HELLO ‼️ Also sure thing, and I'm so glad that so many people enjoyed my Raph headcanons! I have like 11 more requests to do after this 💀 ]

════════════════════════

♡ Leo is very teasing plus flirtatious to his love, a reaction is what he is looking for from you. Give him that exact reaction that he is looking for and it'll only encourage his behavior even further

♡ Very bad pick up lines, and I mean very bad, but I personally find them funny.

♡ "Are you from Tennessee? Because you're the only ten I see."

♡ Omg Leo- but like I said. Anyways pick up lines aren't his only treat as he loves to tell you all of his jokes and one liners no matter how stupid they are. All that he is looking for is a laugh because he loves seeing you crack up at his jokes!

♡ He actually very clingy and needy towards you as he feels like he can't spend a day without seeing you at least once! Anytime you have to leave to take off somewhere else he gets all dramatic as if you're going off to war or something. Basically acting like he is going to die without you here.

♡ Just a very big drama queen honestly. You're slightly hurt? He cries like it's your final days of breath. Jokingly say something mean? Clutches his heart with his hand and does an exaggerated gasp. Flirt back with him? Giggles girlishly while fanning himself with his hand.

♡ Not very overprotective because he trusts you a lot actually! Only times he does get protective is when things start to get physical in a very bad way. Other than that everything is a-okay with you!

♡ He can get a bit jealous at times though

♡ You know how he can make portals? It very neat actually; for example, if both of you or just yourself are late to attend something? Nothing a little portal magic can't do as Leo says

♡ Shows himself off you to anytime he can. You need help picking up multiple boxes? Leo is already picking up 7 at a time while flexing about how strong he is to you. You happen to walk but while he's training? Shows off his super cool skills to you while his brothers are there confused because before you came Leo already said he was apparently "Strong enough", "Didn't feel like training", or "Doesn't need the extra training"

♡ A sucker for nicknames

♡ He'll show you off to anyone he knows or encounters

♡ "Have you ever met my amazing, caring, sweet, and loving (Y/n)?"

♡ LOVES physical touch no matter where you are, so PDA is a big green check mark on the list as long as you're okay with it of course! Leo just loves to swing his arm around your shoulder or waist, just to show that you're in fact in a very happy and loving relationship with none other than himself, Neon Leon.

♡ The legendary Neon Leon loves when you kiss him anywhere on his face, especially on his two red stripe markings. Bro will literally melt into a puddle because of this

♡ Compliment him at anything and he'll have a major boost in his already massive ego. His family tells you to not make it any bigger than it already is but will you listen?

♡ Is most likely the type to take embarrassing photos of you when you're not looking and teases you for it. Leo finds it adorable you're begging him to delete that photo while he extends his arm away from you, the phone way out of your reach

♡ 11/10 overall giggles, not sure he would give you his last pizza slice though

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#rottmnt leo #alexdough.write #rottmnt leonardo #leonardo hamato x reader #leonardo x reader #leonardo rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #headcanons #x reader #leo x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2018 #tmnt #rottmnt x reader

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morallyinept · 4 months

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ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS - A Frankie Morales Christmas One Shot

Summary: Frankie is facing the prospect of a lonely Christmas, and this time of year is particularly difficult for him with maintaining his sobriety. He and the Miller brothers go to a bar on Christmas Eve for festive drinks, and perhaps a chance encounter with you might make Frankie believe again in the magic of Christmas.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 5.9k

Scoville Smut Rating: None, it's fluff. You're safe.

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - None, this is pure Frankie fluff. The only warning is tooth rot from how sweet it is.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: This might be one of my favourite stories in this Christmas story collection. I love writing some angsty fluff for my boys. 🥰 Cameo's from the Miller brothers too.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

Laughter and festive music spills onto the wet sidewalk from restaurants and bars; a whiff of seasonal spices and cooked meats waft in the air.

Neon lights reflect back into Frankie’s eyes as he traipses alongside Benny and Will, a reserved contemplation etched into his tan features.

Will can't contain his wild excitement about proposing to his long term girlfriend. "I'm gonna pop the question, boys. Right there tomorrow on Christmas morning," he explains as he sidesteps puddles.

“About fuckin’ time!” Benny roars, clapping his big bro on the back, as Frankie hides behind a supportive smile in the shadows of his worn and slightly fraying cap.

“That’s great news,” Frankie says, as he pats his friend’s shoulder affectionately.

“Thanks, Fish.” Will eyes him carefully, noting the tight knot his face has become. “How you doing?”

It’s a daunting prospect, answering a question like that, which feels pretty loaded these days.

Frankie can remember all the times he’s been asked how he’s doing, and all the times he’s lied, convincing everyone that he was, indeed, perfectly fine. A well crafted façade as his life spiralled away from him right under everyone's noses, and the words feel hollower now.

The white, powdery gap has wedged itself in all of his relationships to note. The strain, and shame, of having and carrying the stigma of an addiction - something that he had tried to convince himself he didn't have for too long - has damaged some of those relationships permanently, most notably the one with his closest friends, his brothers in arms.

The separation caused by his addiction weighs heavily on him; he sees the way they step carefully around him now. Frankie’s acutely aware that the person they knew him to be during his darker days might be vastly different from the Frankie they once called a comrade on the front line.

Frankie's return to the fold of his former, closest friends, is a gritty experience, filled with the raw emotions of both redemption and remorse and the heavy load they drag. The scars run deep, and some days it feels like he won't ever escape the haunting spectre of the person he used to be.

Reunions like this, are like stepping into combat where trust is always the first casualty, and he has to navigate the minefield of scepticism whilst trying not to lose a limb should one detonate in his face.

The estrangement from his military buddies has left wounds on both sides. Benny was genuinely concerned, while Will harboured resentment for the times when Frankie’s struggles had impacted the cohesion of their once tightly knit phalanx.

The camaraderie that previously thrived in the crucible of combat and beyond, has been fractured by the corrosive effects of his weaknesses. He prepares himself mentally for the conversations that lie ahead, adopting the same meticulous planning mindset he had during his time serving in Delta Force.

Although, a fat lot of good that will do.

“I’m good, doing alright.” Frankie replies in a tired monotone.

“Six months, buddy!” Benny says, knocking into him. “That’s more than alright.”

And Frankie lets a crooked smile slip from lips that are constantly downturned as of late. Benny was the only one to really check in on a regular basis, to help him move what little belongings he had into the shitty apartment the VA had assigned to him after weeks of crashing on Benny’s lumpy couch.

He’s not mad at Will for taking a step back, he gets it; the man is in love and swept up with it, which Frankie is actually pleased about. Will needs a sturdy woman to take care of him when he faces his own darkness trying to claw at him in the middle of the night.

Pope’s absence is what cuts the deepest; it's been over a year since Tom’s passing in the Andes on that fucking stupid mission, leaving them all to try and pick up the pieces without him, and each of them failing miserably in their own ways. As resilient as Benny is, he still takes the punches in the ring to help quiet the tornadoes in his mind.

Frankie’s not heard a word from Pope, except for a text message, months ago, informing him he had moved on to Australia.

“Six months? Fuck. That’s great.” Will agrees. And he seems genuinely pleased.

Frankie nods, head down as he follows along with them. He squeezes the sobriety coin inside his pocket to the point it could absorb fully into his skin.

Six months into his journey of being clean, the pull of old habits still linger and twitch at his fingers.

The holiday season, with its emotional complexities, is akin to flying in low visibility conditions. Frankie recognises the familiar dreaded terrain of festive traditions, obscured by the fog of past memories and cravings. And navigating his way through this time of year in particular, alone, is something that has stunted his rotary blades in mid-flight.

“Any chance of Pope meeting us here, early Christmas present?” Will asks.

Frankie shakes his head. “No. He’s not back.”

“Still loved up with that gorgeous chick in Aus.” Benny interjects.

“Shit. Pope in love.” Will chuckles in bewilderment.

Benny laughs. “Never thought I'd see the day.”

“What about you Fish, you patch things up with Carmela?” Will asks Frankie.

“That’s long dead in the water.” Frankie replies bitterly as he pulls skin from his bottom lip with his teeth.

“What about your kid, you’re seeing her for Christmas, right?” Will queries.

“Carmela's being… obstinate.” Frankie says.

“Carmela's being a bitch.” Benny corrects. “She got back to you yet?”

Frankie shakes his head and bites down on his cheek.

“Like I said, bitch.”

“Come on. That’s the mother of his kid, Ben.” Will interjects, softly.

“Don’t matter. She’s withholding visitation.” Benny explains.

“What the courts say?” Will addresses Frankie and he shrugs.

“Can’t afford a lawyer so we’re kinda freestylin’ it right now.” He bows his head further, almost tucking his chin to his chest, shoulders hunched up.

“You know, if you need money-” Will begins.

“Jesus.” Frankie mutters and shakes his head.

His ex-partner's decision to withhold visitation rights is a gut-wrenching blow, another barricade on the path to rebuilding a fractured life.

The pain of being separated from his daughter, especially at Christmas, only adds another layer of complexity to his struggles, testing the limits of his newfound sobriety.

It cuts deep as he squeezes round the coin tighter now, trying to drown out the voice that reminds him of all of his shortcomings.

Frankie, the single dad; the recovering addict, the deadbeat. Frankie, who can’t even afford a cheap condo or his own mattress, and can't help but feel a stabbing twinge of loneliness sweeping in beneath the sociability of some drinks on Christmas Eve with his friends.

Man, he fuckin’ hates Christmas, and all the schmaltzy shit that comes with it. Passing by windows lined with glitzy tinsel, he'd like nothing more than to wrap it around his neck and step off the stool.

He shakes the grisly thought away as his thumb runs over the familiar ridges of the coin.

Amid jokes and banter, mainly spurred on by Benny, they reach the bustling bar, squeezing through the door. A last get together before Christmas whisks them away with families and significant others, and Frankie goes back to staring at four walls on his own each night.

Frankie nervously checks his phone before he pushes in. The phone in his hand, a cockpit instrument, displaying crucial data for the upcoming flight - his daughter's presence on Christmas day - glancing at the obvious void of being left on read by Carmela.

It's cutting close to the hour, almost nine PM and he still hasn’t a clue about plans for tomorrow, so he taps out another quick message and pushes send with a growl on the cusp of his tongue.

Well? Can I see her 2morrow or not?

He shoves his phone back in his jacket pocket, along with his hands, grips around the coin in there again, and pushes into the bar after the guys.

Mismatched, but cosy furniture fills the space, from worn leather booths to tall barstools that line the crowded bar with bodies perched on them.

Laughter and lively chatter fills the air, punctuated by bursts of holiday cheer from groups engaged in boisterous and animated conversations. Behind the bar, bartenders expertly pour draught beer and craft seasonal cocktails; their hands moving in a dance of mixing, shaking, and smug pouring.

The clinking of ice cubes and the subtle hiss of carbonation adds to the melange of sounds. A tinkling of Slade echoes around the bar, muted out somewhat by the cacophony.

As Frankie navigates the crowded bar, the festive ambiance a rotor wash, swirling around him and lifting the spirits of those caught in its currents. However, beneath the surface, the turbulence of emotions echo his past experiences where clarity often comes after navigating through complex conditions.

His gaze lingers on the phone again, a lifeline dangling like a rescue hoist, awaiting confirmation that he could airlift his plans for Christmas with his daughter to safety. Instead he’s left in a holding pattern, patiently waiting for clearance to land.

Mierda.

Gritting his teeth, he dodges bodies coming at him.

Unable to find a table, the trio settle to standing at the end of the bar, squeezed in as Benny signals for the bartender as he pulls out his wallet, immersed in the festive chaos orbiting around them.

“So much for a quiet one.” Will smirks at Frankie.

“It’s fuckin’ Christmas eve, man.” Frankie responds with a shrug, taking off his cap, smoothing back his hair and settling it back on again. Curls billow out wildly behind his ears like he’s been electrocuted.

“So tomorrow’s the big day, huh?” Frankie questions.

“Yeah.” Will nods.

“You nervous?”

“Shitting myself, man.” Will says.

Glasses of whiskey are pushed into their hands by Benny. “Who’s shittin’?” He asks.

“Tomorrow.” Will explains.

“She’s gonna say yes, man. You don’t need to worry. She’s a good girl.” Frankie states taking his drink and sipping it.

He’s only met Will’s partner once and she seemed nice enough. Unmemorable, as he struggles to recall her face, but nice. The sharpness of his drink hits his tongue and warms his mouth.

“Too good for this asshole.” Benny ribs.

Frankie glances around the bar idly as Benny lets rip into his brother some more.

He’s pulled back into the conversation when he feels a light jab in his shoulder.

"Fish, when are you getting back into the dating game?" Will queries.

Frankie shrugs and his eyes find the floor again, looking at his feet. “I dunno man, I’m not exactly a catch right now.”

“Shut up, you handsome bastard. You just need to get laid.” Benny cajoles. "Fuck dating. Get you some pussy."

"I'm focusing on staying sober and being a dad right now. Or trying to be-” He’s acutely aware his phone hasn’t buzzed in his pocket.

“Fuck that bitch Carmela, man.” Benny hisses.

“I did. Look where it got me.” Frankie smirks.

“You’re on the up, Fish. Stop with the melancholy.” Benny says.

“You heard back about your licence appeal yet?” Will queries.

“They’re still reviewing it. S’been almost fourteen fuckin’ months. Got a letter last week."

“Shit.” Will says.

“Yeah. My sponsor’s putting in a good word.” Frankie explains. “Reckons it oughta get it rolling now.”

“Fuckin’ A!” Benny grins.

“I don’t wanna get my hopes up.” Frankie shrugs. “But it could be looking promising.”

“We’ll get you outta that workshop and in the air again!” Benny says.

“You still wanna fly for the Military?” Will queries, surprised.

Frankie shakes his head. “Private. Lessons, maybe for hire, that kind of thing.” Frankie explains.

“Fish has got a whole business plan mapped out.” Benny praises. “Even designed a business card.”

“You did.” Frankie corrects. “And you spelt aviation wrong.”

Benny flips him off.

“Well, I’ll drink to that,” Will says, holding out his glass. “New business venture.”

“Let’s drink to you getting engaged instead,” Frankie counters, feeling prickly. "Salud!"

They chink their glasses together and neck back the whiskey. Benny gathers the empties and leans over the bar again. “Same again?” He asks the guys.

“Yeah. I’ll be back. Gotta take a leak.” Frankie turns towards the direction of the toilets.

He squeezes past clusters of people and pushes through the door that feels sticky on the tips of his fingers.

A waft of ammonia tinged in the air, mixed with the lingering scent of various cleaning agents, assaults his senses. Dim, flickering fluorescent lights barely illuminate the small, cramped space. The walls, once painted a neutral colour, now showcase peeling paint and patches of unidentified grime.

Random graffiti and scratches mar the surface, telling tales of forgotten nights and transient patrons, and Frankie skims his eyes over them as he unzips his flies at the urinal.

Drying his hands on crunchy, blue paper towels, he pulls out his phone to check again for a message that he already subconsciously knows isn’t there. Sighing, he glances himself in the mirror and stares at his tired complexion.

The weariness etched in his expression doesn’t diminish the underlying determination. His jaw sets firm, a silent resolve evident even in the tired lines of his face, anger and frustration bubbling inside.

He takes the coin out of his pocket, staring down at it and grounding himself. Remembering to breathe as the vibrations in his skull begin to whir. He tucks it away quickly when the door opens and a couple of guys bundle in, chattering away.

The bar's atmosphere is electric, and the holiday spirit seems to amplify it with every step.

He bumps into a body on his way out of the bathroom, the encounter is a gentle collision, enough to pause him momentarily as a bright pair of eyes and gentle smile renders him still.

It takes a second for the wetness to register as it seeps through his shirt and jacket and onto his belly skin, cooling it.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” You gasp at him, your glass now empty and all over this rugged stranger who’s smiling at you, wiping himself down with his large hands, although it does absolutely nothing at all, and reassuring you it’s alright.

"My bad, I should’ve looked where I was going." Frankie says, offering a sheepish smile.

"No, I regularly make a habit of being a klutz.” You assure. “You’re the innocent party.”

“In that case, I’m glad for your lack of co-ordination.”

“Smooth.” You remark with a grin, eyes twinkling at him in amusement.

“Can I get you another?” Frankie offers.

The accidental spill on his jacket becomes a metaphorical bird strike, a sudden encounter with the unexpected. Yet, much like dealing with a bird strike in flight, Frankie handles it with some flooding, composure, brushing off the impact and continuing on his course. Even if he’s running on the subconscious act of keeping true.

“What? No. I should be buying you one for ruining your shirt.”

“S’not ruined. Just a little damp.” He explains.

“Well, I’m glad. It’s a nice shirt.”

“Now who’s being smooth?”

“Dude, I live for Fleetwood Mac, okay. I would be devastated if you had to throw it away on my account.”

And suddenly Frankie’s brain envisions you wearing it, the t-shirt depicting his favourite band under his shirt and jacket. Nothing else, but his faded t-shirt that he should have thrown out months ago, as the holes under the armpits get a little wider with each wear, but he can’t bear the thought of parting with it.

He swallows dryly and tries to remember to breathe again.

“Come on, I insist.” You say. And he doesn't have time to resist or object as you promptly link his arm and drag him towards the bar.

As you wait for the attention of one of the bartenders, you tilt your head curiously to him. "So, what brings you out on this busy Christmas Eve?" You ask him.

Frankie leans in so you can hear him. “Insanity.”

“Oh, you too?” You smirk.

He chuckles. “My friend’s getting engaged tomorrow. We’re out celebrating.”

“Oh nice, he’s doomed.” You cajole and Frankie nods in agreement.

“Something like that. What about you?”

“Drinks, work colleagues. Blah. Blah.” You say.

“Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“You’re not. I can’t stand them. Besides, you're much more interesting.”

“I doubt that.” Frankie blushes.

“Oh come on. You love Fleetwood Mac. I’m already hooked.” You smile.

He smiles back at you and you notice the deep richness of his eyes stunning you for a moment. He nods just over your head as the bartender approaches, and you turn to order your drinks, breaking the spell.

“Let me get this.” Frankie insists as he pulls his wallet and thrusts a twenty into the bartender's hand before you can.

“That was supposed to be my round.” You say.

“Early Christmas present,” he confirms to you with a lazy shrug.

“You play dirty.”

“Surely that’s the only way to play.” He smirks.

“Well, thank you.” You say handing him a glass and you notice a subtle tremor in his fingers as he takes it from you.

There’s a pause between you, a moment where your mutual smiles bleed into the surroundings and turn the noise down.

You glance around the bar as you sip your drink, the colours of Christmas lights twinkling in your irises and Frankie tries his best not to stare at them. But it's difficult because he’s drawn to them, like a magpie in want of something shiny.

Smiling, you point them out in wonder. “I love all this tacky shit, don’t you?”

Frankie looks around and nods subtly. “We’ve even got mistletoe.” He nods further down the bar at a plastic sprig hanging over the oblivious revellers underneath.

“That's so cliché. I prefer the subtlety of strategically placed tinsel."

"Ah, a tinsel strategist. Now that's a title. Do you have a manual for that, or is it all instinct?" He asks.

"It's an art form, my friend. Requires a keen eye for Fung Shei and a touch of OCD."

“I’m a bauble man myself.”

You scoff into your drink, choking a little as you giggle and Frankie feels like he’s just been immolated on the spot at the sound of it tittering out of you.

“Is that a euphemism? Should I just cut my losses now and go?”

“Funny.” He smirks.

You pretend to fan yourself, "I try my best. Making handsome guys laugh is just a side gig, you know."

“It’s a look, it’s working for you.” You confirm. "I like me a bit of scruff."

“Handsome? That's the second time tonight I've heard that."

"Really? Look at you, Mr Popular. Am I encroaching on someone else's staked claim of you?"

He shakes his head. "Not at all."

"Good. I wouldn't care if I was anyway." You smile.

"Fighting talk."

"You better believe it, handsome." You chuckle.

"I mean, I’ll take it.” A small pink blush settles in over his nose.

Frankie baulks. “Well good. I haven't washed this t-shirt for like, eight days…” he laughs.

“Hot.” You laugh back. “But let’s get into the nitty-gritty here.” You say. You thwack your glass onto the bar top as you lean on it, studying him.

“Alright.”

"I bet your holiday playlist includes some seriously cheesy tunes. Care to share your guilty pleasures?" You prompt.

He laughs. "Guilty pleasures? Please, my playlist is a masterpiece. Mariah Carey's 'All I Want for Christmas' is a holiday anthem that frequents. No guilt, only joy."

"Mariah Carey? Bold choice for a man in a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt.”

Frankie shrugs. “I’m eclectic.”

“I respect the commitment. Maybe I'll have to reconsider my stance on disliking holiday music." You say. You swirl the ice around in your glass.

“You don’t like a bit of Mariah? What is wrong with you?” Frankie sneers with a grin as he raises his own glass to his mouth.

"Everything. I’m a lost cause.”

“I doubt that, querida.” He murmurs.

“So, what's your go-to holiday movie? This is crucial information." You question.

"Die Hard, obviously. It's a Christmas movie and an action masterpiece. What more could you ask for?"

"A man of macho culture, I see. I concur. Die Hard, it is. Now we just need to settle the pineapple-on-pizza debate, and we'll be golden." You smirk. “And there is a correct answer by the way…”

The banter with you stirs something raw within Frankie - he can feel it - a feeling he hasn't experienced in a while. A long while.

Your smile and the daring glimmer in your eyes at him chokes him up in a solar flare; he’s finding it hard to breathe.

It’s a gritty, unfiltered connection that cuts through the tarnished facade he often wears, but comes surprisingly natural.

The jokes and playful challenges become a form of rebellion against the loneliness that has silently plagued him.

In the midst of the crowded bar and flashing Christmas lights, Frankie finds a refuge in your shared banter - a reprieve from the weight of his own battles that have been pushed aside like the empties stacking on the bar top between you.

Your sharp wit and unabashed humour becomes a tonic for the rough edges that shape him, a remedy of a soothing salve for the scars he carries.

As Frankie leans into the quips and jokes, he finds solace in the cracks of vulnerability it exposes, instead of rushing to seal them back up.

The conversation isn't just light-hearted snaps coated in something flirtatious; it’s a reminder that, sometimes, the least expected connections are the ones that break through the walls built around ourselves, offering a chance at genuine, unfiltered connectivity in the midst of the holiday chaos.

It pulls him back sharply into reality and everything comes flooding back. Looking at you, the way you look back at him as though something incredible has landed in your lap, stunts him.

He shares another drink with you, paying for it again at your insistence that he doesn’t have to, even play fighting him to see who can get their note into the bartender's hand first. Your laugh is infectious as it warms his blood.

And then he remembers he’s left his friends hanging at the top of the bar as he catches their prying grins, gurning animatedly at him.

He can’t drag you down with him, he’s being ridiculous, selfish even.

“Okay. Yeah, I should show my face again I guess.”

“I should probably let you get back to your colleagues.” Frankie says, and turns as you hop off the stool.

He realises only now, that his phone still hasn't buzzed in his pocket.

He wonders if that’s disappointment in your voice, a subtle resonance reaching out to tug him back by the collar of his unwashed t-shirt.

“It was really nice talking to you.” You say, earnestly.

“And you.” He agrees, nodding.

“Have a good evening.” You say, with a warm smile and make your way back to your table.

“You too.” Frankie says, floundering.

Fuck.

He just let you walk away. Watches you go back to the table, no fight in him. Carmela was right, maybe he has no passion anymore.

He retreats back towards the guys at the end of the bar who are stunned and wide-eyed at his return.

“Dude!” Benny scolds.

“Did you get her number?” Will asks as Frankie approaches, hands shoved in pockets.

Frankie shakes his head and bows it again. “No.”

“Are you crazy? Go back over there and ask her for it, she clearly likes you, man.” Will encourages.

“I don’t know.”

“Fuck it. I’ll do it. I’m your wingman, Fish.” Benny knocks his drink back bracing himself for manoeuvre, but Will tugs on his bicep.

“Leave it.” He says, noting Frankie’s unease.

Frankie tosses a weary glance over his shoulder towards your direction and catches you glancing back. You smile and he smiles back thinly.

“I need another drink,” he says back to the boys.

“You alright, man?” Will says, putting his arm over his shoulder.

“Yeah.” Frankie sighs.

Although he’s pretty certain he’s sweating all over, and that Will can feel him shaking.

A while later and the boys have found a small table that they’re crowded around.

Frankie’s not sure how many he’s had, but he’s starting to feel warm and his arms are tingling from the alcohol consumption.

Something he knows he probably shouldn’t do.

“Fish,” Benny nods over his shoulder and Frankie turns to see you approaching gingerly, tossing your purse over your shoulder.

He can just hear his sponsor's nagging voice scolding him in his ear about other vices being the gateway back to the coke, Francisco. But he’s never had a problem with booze, never really getting wasted beyond all control.

He always stops when his fingers start to feel numb.

“Hi,” you say, warmly.

“Hey,” Frankie greets, immediately standing up like he’s been tasered.

You smile at the boys who look back at you grinning behind their tumblers as they sup.

“Urm, I’m about to head off. I don’t live too far from here, I just wondered if perhaps you’d want to walk me home?” You offer to Frankie.

“These streets ain’t safe for a woman on her own, Fish.” Benny pipes up and Will nudges him sharply in the rib cage.

“Fish?” You query with a smile.

“Nickname.” Frankie says with cheeks turning pink again.

“Well, you can tell me about it on the way.” You suggest with those sparkling eyes again, and Frankie swears he’s never seen a pair like them before.

They literally take his breath away.

“Uh, sure. Yeah.” Frankie says, he puts his glass down on the table. “I’ll walk you home, hermosa.”

“Great.” You smile and head towards the door.

Frankie glances back at the boys, who clearly can’t contain their excitement as they laugh and punch the air, and Frankie simply flips them the bird discreetly as he follows behind you.

“So, you’re Spanish?” You query once outside in the cool air.

“Texan. I'm from from El Paso. But beyond that it’s a mix of Mexican and some Colombian thrown in.”

“That’s cool.” You smile.

“What about you, where are you from?” He queries as he throws his hands inside his pockets. The weight of his phone tugs lightly at the frustration spiking on the edge of his mind.

“Here. Born and raised. I’ve not seen you around before though.”

“Should you have?”

“It's a small town.” You remark.

“I’ve been out of it for a while.”

“Just moved back?” You ask.

“No. I was… in the military for a while and then-” he pauses as you walk along together.

“Ah, the nickname. Fish.”

“Catfish.”

“Dare I ask?”

Frankie smiles. “Used to fish a lot with my pop growing up. Caught a big fish once, a catfish, that almost threw me overboard. It was twice my size. Told the guys about it one night when we were on duty, it kind of stuck.” Frankie explains with a wily smirk.

“Nice. What did you do in the military?” You question genuinely enthralled to hear him speak.

“Pilot. Helicopters, mostly.”

“Oh wow, you fly?”

He nods subtly. “Used to.”

“So, you’re not in the army anymore?”

“Special Ops. And no, retired.”

“You’re not old enough to retire surely,” you say with a smile.

He shrugs. “Feels like it sometimes.”

You smile at him as you clutch your hands over your purse and he walks with his hands fisted in his pockets. Grasping tightly around the coin and his phone in equal measure.

“So you live close by?” He queries.

“Yeah. A shitty apartment block on third. Work’s close by too. Glad I can walk because my car packed up weeks ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I'm a triple threat.” You say and he laughs.

“You not got it fixed?” Frankie enquires.

“Can’t afford it right now. It’s a sore subject.” You say bitterly.

“Say no more.” He smiles. “I can... take a look, if you want?”

You turn to him with a small, coy smile. “Do helicopter pilots know how to fix cars?”

“It’s a combustion engine. They’re all pretty much the same.” He shrugs.

“Well, then. I might take you up on that, Pilot.” You say glancing at him and he smiles.

“So, obvious question, but why are you alone on Christmas?” You ask him.

You both walk along with some comforting sense of ease. As you stroll through the quiet streets, the banter that had filled the bar now gives way to a more subdued, yet charged atmosphere.

The occasional laughter and shared glances add a layer of unspoken intimacy, a peep of vulnerability; a departure from the boisterous energy of the crowded bar you’ve just left that settles into your pores with ease.

Frankie glances at you with a knotted tongue.

"No ring, you’re not married. Unless you are, and you’re a player. But you don’t strike me as the type.”

“Not a player.” He confirms with a side smile.

"Divorced?"

"Not lucky enough to have been married yet." He confirms.

“And you’re not gay. Despite a penchant for baubles.”

He laughs. “Definitely not gay.”

“Good.” You chuckle.

“How about you? What’s your situation?” Frankie questions tentatively.

“Lonely.” You say after a few moments to deliberate, and he feels the sharpness of your choice of descriptive pierce his skin.

“I’m tired of being the awkward third wheel in my group of friends.” You say.

“You too, huh?” Frankie smiles gently at you and you smile back nodding.

And the sincerity in your eyes mirrors his own. He knows how that feels, only too well.

“Me too.” He agrees.

“Any existing Christmas plans tomorrow?” You ask as you both round off the street and down another.

“Hoping… to see my daughter.” He braves.

The unspoken truth about his life - being a single dad and probably a failure at it too - is out there now, and he wishes he could cram the scathing truths back into his mouth when you don’t say anything.

He expects you to recoil.

Expects you to say thanks, but you’ll walk the rest of your way by yourself. He comes with baggage, so much more than what your little, dainty purse is equipped to carry.

He can’t expect you to shoulder the weight of his as well.

When you allow him to hang there, suspended in the awkwardness of laying himself bare.

He expects a change in your expression, waits for it. That subtle shift that often accompanies the revelation of such personal details.

But instead, you simply nod and smile curiously; a reassuring gesture that eases the tension instantly in his shoulders.

“That’s cute. How old is she?” You query and your interest seems genuine.

“Almost two.” He replies.

“So you’re a daddy?”

“Yeah.”

“Hot.” You smirk. And he laughs.

“I don’t know about that.”

“I think so.” You confirm.

“Yeah?” He queries with raised eyebrows.

“Absolutely.”

"You got kids?" Frankie asks, feeling his cheeks burn.

You snort. "Please. I'm not insane. I can barely take care of myself."

You both laugh as you come to a stop outside an apartment block.

“So, this is me.” You say, turning to him.

“Nice.” Frankie says inspecting the building.

Your apartment block stands at the end of a weathered street, surrounded by buildings that bear the scars of time and neglect. It’s a little shabby and run down with yellowing lights that emanate from inside the lobby doors.

"It's really not nice. It's not much, but it's home, I guess." You say, clearly embarrassed about the state of it.

“That's all that matters, trust me.” Frankie says. It’s far more than he’s had of late.

“I’d invite you in, but I’ve had a bit too much to drink.” You say, sheepishly.

“I wouldn’t come in because you’ve had a bit too much to drink.” He clarifies.

“A gentleman. That’s rare these days.”

“That I am, ma’am.” He says, saluting with two fingers under his cap gently.

You rummage in your purse for your keys. “Well, thank you for wal-”

“Have dinner with me?” Frankie interrupts. “I mean, if you’d like to, I'd like to take you out for some dinner?”

You smile widely and it takes his breath from his lungs. “I’d really like that.”

“Yeah?”

You nod smiling. “Yeah. Give me your phone.”

He hands it over and you put your number in there. You then call it from his phone and pull yours out of your purse. Fleetwood Mac’s Gypsy plays as your ringtone until you silence it.

“That’s my favourite song.” Frankie smiles.

“Mine too. Told you I had good taste in music.”

The air between you both shimmers with the unspoken tension of another, new shared commonality. The banter and laughter has woven in a comfortable bind around you both, seemingly pulling you both in tighter.

Charged with a quiet anticipation, the kind that precedes an intimate moment, your eyes meet, a silent agreement passing between you both as you instinctively step forward and so does he, without hesitation.

Leaning in, the gentle press of his lips against yours is soft, breaching.

A delicate meeting of lips that convey a sense of mutual understanding, some semblance of painful hesitation lying on the outskirts, that this is truly a Christmas miracle of some kind.

The cold night air contrasts with the warmth exchanged in that fleeting touch, creating a sensation that’s both electrifying and comforting.

And mildly terrifying.

Frankie can feel himself tremble as you moan gently into his mouth, seeking you out with an explorative tongue.

His heart is racing, he’s convinced you can hear it clattering around bruised ribs as it fills his ears with a thumping bass.

Your hands clutch onto his arms, winding up the length and thickness of them gently, carefully feeling him out too.

His hands settle tentatively on your waist, pulling you into him further as he tastes you.

You lean up on tiptoes, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as you kiss him with more fervour, enjoying the way he tastes, the way he sounds as he grunts into you hungrily.

He can feel himself stiffen, the oncoming rush of blood coursing through his body and centering in the length of his cock.

Fuck, it’s been too long since he’s felt a rush like this. One that wasn’t chemical and burned away the cilia in his nostrils.

The way his hands clutch onto you desperately as if he’s convinced you’re going to fly away. And the way you hold onto him too, trying to convince yourself that he’s real as your fingers scratch gently into the subtle greying hairs on his cheek.

You feel the visor of his cap clip your forehead and you pull back giggling a little as he chuckles. You plant another kiss on the side of his scruffy face, his beard soft and fuzzy against your lips.

“That was really nice,” you whisper in awe.

“Yeah.” Frankie agrees, his thumb stroking across your cheek.

“I’ve never kissed a Catfish before.” You muse.

He snorts and you giggle. "How was it?"

"Good. Real good." You smile. “Thank you for walking me home.”

“My pleasure, hermosa.” He kisses your mouth again, a delicate lingering smooch before you reach in to pull out your keys.

“Get yourself inside. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

He watches you walk up the steps, unlocking the door and pushing it open with your behind as you turn to smile at him.

You nod enthusiastically. “You better.”

"I will be, don't you worry." He says, smiling and blushing further.

“Merry Christmas, Pilot!” You call out to him.

He waves, smiling. Frankie doesn’t leave until the door closes behind you.

He pulls it out. There's a message from Benny that he didn’t feel come through:

He walks up the street, trying to contain the grin on his lips that now make his jaw ache. His body feeling like it could give way any second.

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

You score yet?

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes. He types out another message to Carmela, noting her lack of response, despite clearly reading his messages.

And he feels that he can finally see straight.

I’ll b ova 2morrow whether u like it or not. I’m seeing my daughter on xmas day. If u think that I won't fight u 4 joint custody, ur wrong.

His phone buzzes again. A response from her almost immediately.

FINE. U can stay for some lunch. 2pm.

Frankie smiles again, tapping out a message, but it's not a response to Carmela.

Instead, Frankie types out a message to you:

Merry Christmas, hermosa x

You message back a minute later:

All I want for Christmas is you, Pilot. Merry Christmas from me & Mariah xx

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal charcters #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales triple frontier #triple frontier fic #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x you #christmas stories #jett's writing

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kyannae · 1 year

Text

ILIKEU，↷ nagi seishiro.

summary: reo invited you to hang out with him and nagi, and who were you to refuse? except, with a twist where he ditches you two. sucks to suck. (gn!reader)

category: FLUFF BROOOO

warnings: gn!reader, ooc characters(?), friend cancelling last minute :rolls eyes:, cursing, nothing else i think

a/n: here's one for my skrinkly little nincompoop 🤭 also a super late valentines special! i'm having sm fun writing these HAHA (yes this is the fic i mentioned in my previous post. this was the one sitting in my drafts for over a week.)

"m' so tired. hey y/n, is reo comin' or not?" nagi sighed, leaning on your shoulder. you frowned, before checking your phone for the nth time that day, while nagi continued playing video games on his. and that was when you saw reo's recent text, sent a minute ago.

'oops, sorry guys, my parents asked me to stay home today. just hang out with each other!'

an irk mark appeared on your forehead and you nudged nagi's shoulder, drawing his attention to the message shown on your screen. he sighed again, before turning his attention back to his game.

"what a pain..." he muttered, and you chuckled. "wanna go to an arcade, then?" you asked, before typing a furious response back to reo. nagi's head perked up at the mention of an arcade. "sure," he replied, and the both of you set off.

"WHAT THE FUCK?? HOW DO YOU DO THIS SHIT BRO." you yelled, trying your hardest to shoot at all the zombies appearing on your side of the screen. nagi seemed like he wasn't even trying at all- even helping to clear YOUR side too.

"your posture and positioning is wrong." nagi pointed out, before standing behind you, adjusting your posture carefully. you froze, muscles tensing up at his touch. when nagi was done, you returned to the game- finding it much easier.

"yeah! i cleared it! take that, dumb game." you cheered, quickly keying in your name so that you'll be shown on the leaderboard. definitely not the top 10 or 5, but you were still happy nonetheless.

nagi hummed, a small smile appearing on his face at the sight of your childlike happiness.

"heyy, hey! nagi! i'm going to go and top-up my arcade card." you waved your hand infront of the spaced out male, whom blinked before mumbling out an "okay."

he eventually got bored waiting, opting to play a nearby game while he waited.

he stuck out his tongue slightly in concentration, fingers skillfully maneuvering the controls. he sighed in relief upon completing the game, and stretched when he saw that he got first place- again.

he was about to key in his nickname so that his score could be saved on the leaderboard, but that was when you appeared.

"I'm back! oh, you got first again. tch." nagi looked up at you, and although cliché- you looked...like...woah. the glow of the neon arcade lights behind you, the jealous look on your face which you weren't doing a very good job at hiding- it was all so, so perfect in his eyes.

he nodded, turning back to the screen- unconsciously keying in what he wanted going to say as his nickname, ILIKEU.

"nagi? your nickname?" you pointed out, and the boy let out a 'hm?' focusing on the name he keyed in, he was shocked and undoubtedly dismayed when he realised that he already pressed enter.

there it was, big bolded font right on the screen as the number 1 on the leaderboard- ILIKEU.

"oh." he muttered, the tips of his ears turning a slight pink in colour, and you chuckled. "did you mean to say that out loud instead?" you teased, and nagi pouted, hiding his face in his hands.

"aww nagi, don't be like that." you laughed, before leaning down to his level.

"i like you too." you smiled, and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "although, this nickname is actually pretty embarrassi-"

please, let him be embarrassed in peace.

485 notes · View notes

nameless-ken · 2 months

Text

Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - Billy Hargrove x Reader Series

(Please reblog!!!) Happy reading! Comment below to be added to taglist.

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: bullying, fight scene, cursing, the usual angst and fluff

Introduction | Chapter one | Chapter two

Masterlist

(song for this chapter <3)

The neon lights of the state fair illuminate the warm August night. You and Robin weave through the crowd, laughing and chatting as you take in the sights and sounds. Cotton candy vendors, Ferris wheels, and carnival games fill the air with excitement.

“This is my favorite time.The end of summer. The amazing smell of funnel cakes in the air.” You sniff the air, stomach grumbling.

“Oh, you know we're getting some of those. But first, let's check out the petting zoo!” Robin shouts, excitement dripping from her voice.

As you make your way through the fairgrounds, Robin spots Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan by a photo booth. You approach the group, exchanging greetings and catching up. Jonathan and your eyes meet. You used to see him around school, a familiar camera always hanging around his neck but not much anymore since he graduated last year.

“Hey, Y/N right?” Jonathan introduces, holding his hand out to you.

“Yeah, nice to officially meet you Jonathan.” The warmth of his touch lingers in yours for a moment longer than necessary. You never noticed how cute and shy he was until now.

“Nice camera.” You compliment, pointing to the camera resting against his chest.

“Thanks. Are you into photography too?” He asks you, leaning against the photo booth that Robin, Steve and Nancy are in, arguing over what expressions to do.

“Yeah, it's a hobby of mine. I love capturing moments.”

“That's cool. What kind of camera do you use?”

“Oh, I have a Canon AE-1. It's my pride and joy. What about you?” Jonathan's eyes light up at the mention of the camera.

“No way, I have the same one! It's such a classic. There's just something special about shooting with film, you know?”

“Absolutely! The whole process of developing the film and seeing the prints come to life—it's magical.” You enjoy sharing a moment of understanding, how easily the conversation flows effortlessly.

“So, do you have a favorite subject to photograph?” He asks and you take a pause, surveying the crowded fairgrounds, deciding your answer.

“Hmm, I love capturing candid moments of people, especially when they're lost in the moment and unaware of the camera. What about you?”

“I think I'm drawn to landscapes. There's something serene about capturing the beauty of nature. It's like freezing a moment in time.”

“It sounds like we have a lot in common when it comes to photography.”

“Um, speaking of photography, there's this local art show happening on Saturday. I was wondering if you'd like to go with me?” You’re a little shocked at his forwardness and the invitation but smile in appreciation. “I mean, if you aren’t busy. I just thought you’d probably enjoy it and-”

“I’d love to!” You give his arm a squeeze in reassurance. Jonathan's shy smile widens at your enthusiastic response, a wave of relief washing over him.

“Great! It's at this small gallery downtown. I heard they have some amazing photography exhibits.”

“That sounds so cool. I’ve never been to one.”

As the camera flashes inside the photo booth, capturing moments of laughter and silly poses, Robin, Steve, and Nancy emerge with wide smiles plastered on their faces.

“How many shots did that take to get one perfect pose?” Robin sighs and Steve chuckles, playfully nudging Robin as they join you and Jonathan.

“Hey, it's quality over quantity, Robin. Besides, we had to make sure we nailed the perfect expressions.”

“I don't know about perfect, but I'd say we definitely nailed the "awkwardly adorable" look.” Nancy laughs along, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

As you all share a lighthearted moment, the atmosphere shifts abruptly as Billy and his group of lunatics make their presence known.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here. The freak show. Shouldn’t you guys be getting back to the circus?” Tommy, an old friend of Steve’s and Billy’s new sidekick blurts out with a laugh, nudging Billy in the side.

You look at Billy, watching his body language and assessing what he’s going to do next after he “promised” you to be better.

“Leave us alone. We don't want any trouble.” Jonathan surprisingly steps up first. But Billy and his friends show no signs of backing down, reveling in their torment.

“Aw, did I hurt little Jonathan's feelings? Maybe he should go cry to his mommy and freak of a brother.” Tommy responds tauntingly.

Carol joins in, her laughter ringing out like a bell. “Or better yet, maybe he can take some pictures of his tears. I'm sure they'd make great art.”

Steve steps forward, his expression hardens with determination. “That's enough Tommy.”

You look over at Billy again to find his eyes already on you, looking down at your hand. You didn’t realize you grabbed onto Jonathan’s arm when he spoke up and haven’t let go since. You see Billy’s eyes narrow and jaw clench.

Without warning, Billy shoves Steve, his jealousy boiling over into violence. Steve staggers back, caught off guard by the sudden attack.

Steve squares off against Billy, his muscles tense as he braces for the next move. Billy charges forward with a fierce yell, his fist aims straight for Steve's jaw.

Steve reacts quickly, dodging Billy's blow and retaliating with a powerful punch of his own. The impact sends Billy staggering backward, but he quickly regains his footing, his expression twisted with fury as a loud cackle escapes his mouth.

In the midst of the chaos, you rush forward, attempting to intervene and pull Billy away from Steve. But Billy, blinded by his internal jealousy, lashes out wildly, narrowly missing you as he swings his fists in Steve’s direction again.

Nancy and Robin work together to pull Steve away. Steve's frustration mounts, his eyes burning with determination as he tries to break free and confront Billy once more.

“Billy, stop it! This is ridiculous.” You push at his chest as your friends take Steve away as Tommy and Carol run when you notice security getting closer. “Let’s go before you get us in real trouble.”

Billy grabs your hand, leading the way to his car. “So now you don’t care if people see you with me? What was the problem back there? That was so uncalled for!” You exclaim, dragging your feet behind him as you make it to the empty field that’s been transformed into a parking lot.

Billy drops your hand once you make it to his blue muscle car, lighting a cigarette and taking big puffs, blowing the smoke at thes sky. "How long have you and Jonathan been a thing?"

"What?" You stare at him in disbelief, crossing your arms in defense. "He's just a friend."

Billy scoffs, shaking his head, signature smirk gracing his roughed up face. "You're naive if you think he just wants to be your friend."

Your brow furrows as you struggle to comprehend Billy's accusations. "What are you talking about? Jonathan and I are just friends. Even if we weren’t, how is any of that your business?"

Billy's eyes narrow as he steps closer, his voice laced with jealousy.

“Because... because I care about you, okay?” You take a step back from him, the intensity of his words catching you off guard. You know Billy enough to understand how he’s probably never said those words out loud to someone before.

“Just forget it.” Billy runs a hand through his hair and opens his door, getting into his car and roars the engine.

“Billy-” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, backing up quickly and speeds off, leaving you taken back by his admission.

You stand in front of your mirror, fidgeting nervously with the hem of your dress. Robin flits around your room, pulling out various outfits and accessories.

“Okay, how about this one? It's cute and a little flirty, and perfect for a date at the art show.”

“It’s not a date, Robin.” You pout at yourself in the mirror, thoughts elsewhere as you try to shake off the lingering memories of Billy.

“Oh come on, the way you two were geeking out about cameras and shit. He’s so into you.” You force a laugh, but inside, your heart feels heavy with uncertainty. The moment of Billy's jealousy lingers, casting a shadow over your excitement for your evening with Jonathan.

‘Yeah, well, we're just friends. That's all.” Robin studies you for a moment, her expression filled with concern.

“Are you sure about that? Because it seems like there's something more there.” Robin asks softly, sitting on the edge of your bed with a pointed look.

You shrug, trying to dismiss Robin's observation. “It doesn't matter anyway. Let's just focus on finding the perfect outfit, okay?”

Robin nods, sensing your reluctance to delve deeper into the topic. With a determined smile, she resumes her search for the ideal ensemble, hoping to lift your spirits and set the stage for an amazing night, regardless of what may or may not be brewing between you and Jonathan.

Jonathan's car pulls up outside your house, and you emerge, nervousness fluttering in your chest. Jonathan steps out of the car, a warm smile on his face as he approaches you.

“Hey, Y/N. You look amazing.” He opens the door for you.

You blush, grateful for his compliment as you climb into the passenger seat. “Thanks, Jonathan. You look nice too.”

As Jonathan starts the car and pulls away from the curb. You’re thankful for the conversation that comes easily between you as he drives towards the local art show, nerves slowly disappearing.

You both wander through the art gallery, admiring the various exhibits on display, pausing in front of a striking black-and-white photograph, lost in silent contemplation.

“This one is beautiful. The way the photographer captured the light... It's mesmerizing.”

“Yeah, I love how photography has the power to evoke such strong emotions. It's like a window into someone else's world.”

The silence between you feels nice, the shared appreciation for the art binding you together in a moment of quiet reflection. It’s refreshing to spend time with someone who shares the same interests. As you continue to explore the gallery, each new exhibit sparks conversation and sparks a deeper connection between you and Jonathan, solidifying this new bond formed through your shared love of photography.

As you both exit the art gallery, the crisp evening air greets you with the gentle hum of the bustling streets. You and Jonathan walk a block away to the local diner, one of your favorite spots in this sleepy town.

As you and Jonathan walk inside, your eyes inadvertently drift to a corner booth where Billy and his friends are seated. You quickly avert your gaze, hoping to avoid any unnecessary confrontation. You both settle into a booth, hoping for once, Billy and his friends leave you alone.

However, the air in the diner grows tense as Billy and his friends become increasingly boisterous, their voices rising above the ambient chatter. Your jaw clenches as you overhear some of their rude remarks, directed not just at you but also at Jonathan. You start to feel a surge of anger and frustration, but you try to maintain your composure for Jonathan's sake.

Jonathan notices the change in atmosphere and offers you a reassuring smile, silently urging you to ignore Billy and his friends. The tension in the air remains palpable, casting a shadow over the otherwise pleasant evening.

Jonathan tries to lighten up the mood and tells you the story of when Will got a lego stuck up his nose. You lean back in your seat, laughter bubbling up in response.

Billy's irritation mounts. He can't stand the way you look so carefree and happy in Jonathan's presence. With a determined stride, Billy stands up and walks over to your table, his smirk laced with malice as he takes a seat beside you, ignoring Jonathan's attempts to diffuse the situation.

"Billy, what are you doing?" Your voice is tinged with annoyance as you shoot him a warning glare, but Billy brushes off your protest with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Just thought I'd join in on the fun," Billy retorts, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Jonathan tries to intervene, his voice calm but firm as he urges Billy to leave you alone, but Billy refuses to listen. The tension in the air thickens as your anger reaches its boiling point.

"Billy, enough!" your voice cuts through the diner as you confront him head-on. "You always have to ruin everything, don't you? Can't you see that you're not wanted here?"

Billy's smirk falters, realizing how much he’s affecting you in the moment and stands up from the booth. “Fine but don't come crying to me when this little thing of yours falls apart.”

Your jaw clenches at his hurtful words, patience wearing thin as you rise from your seat, Jonathan following suit.

“We're leaving.” You respond icily, glaring at Billy and grabbing Jonthan’s hand, pulling him out of the diner and into the cool night air.

“Are you okay?” Jonathan wonders as you walk to his car.

You nod, slight tears prickling at your eyes due to the frustration you feel with Billy. It’s becoming overwhelming the way he picks and chooses when he’s nice to you.

“Yeah, I'll be fine. Let's just get out of here.”

As you settle into the car, the tension begins to dissipate, replaced by a sense of relief as Jonathan starts the engine and pulls away. The soft hum of the car fills the silence as you drive through the quiet streets, each of you lost in your own thoughts over the ruined evening.

“Thanks Jonathan. I’m sorry for how the evening ended but I had a nice time.” You give him a graceful smile as he drives up to your house.

“Thanks for coming with me. We should do this again sometime, you know, without the rude interruptions.”

“Definitely.” you laugh lightly, opening the door and stepping out of the car. “Thanks again.”

“Goodnight Y/N.” Jonathan says softly as you wave goodbye and watch him drive away into the night.

"Goodnight, Jonathan," you murmur to yourself, feeling a sense of gratitude for his understanding and support amidst the chaos that is Billy Hargrove. With a sigh, you turn and head inside your house, hoping that the next time you and Jonathan spend time together, it will be free from any unwanted intrusions.

Your heart sinks to the floor immediately as you walk into school on Monday morning, spotting Billy at your locker. He’s never willingly appeared anywhere you are, especially at school where everyone watches his every movement. You are still upset about the way he treated you and your friends this weekend, it almost makes you sick thinking about it again.

Without a second thought, you quickly turn, hoping to avoid any confrontation. But as you walk away, you can feel Billy's eyes burning into your back, and sure enough, you hear his footsteps quicken as he strides after you.

“Y/N, wait!” He catches some students' attention as he calls after you across the hallway.

Your steps falter momentarily, but you quickly regain your composure and continue walking, determined to put as much distance between you and him as possible. But Billy is persistent, stepping in front of you and blocking your path.

“Y/N, please can we talk?” Your patience is already wearing thin as you push back.

“We have nothing to talk about, Billy. If this is about our book project, it can wait until after school.”

Billy refuses to back down, he grabs a hold of your wrist, pulling you through the hallways behind him. His grip tightening as he crosses the gym and pushes open the heavy doors leading to the small alleyway beside the gym.

“Billy, let go of me! You’re hurting me.” You cry and Billy immediately lets go.

“I’m sorry.” Billy spits out frantically, softly grazing your wrist with his thumb. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

All you can hear is your heart pounding in your chest as Billy pulls out a cigarette, the smell of smoke filling the air as he lights it, his actions speaking louder than words. You watch him silently, waiting for him to explain himself, but he remains silent, his eyes clouded with a mixture of regret and need.

“Billy, what do you want?”

He doesn't answer, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You take a step back feeling the cold brick beneath you, a surge of frustration and confusion welling up inside you.

“Why did you have to do what you did on Saturday? And to Steve? I was having a great time, and you just had to step in for no reason.”

Billy's expression softens slightly at your words. “Did you mean it when you said I ruin everything?”

Your brow furrows in confusion, your memory flashing back to the heat of the moment inside the diner. “... I don't remember saying that…” Billy interrupts you, his voice tinged with bitterness as he stomps out his cigarette with his boot.

“Well, maybe you should, because it's true. That's what my dad has been telling me since I was a kid—that I ruin everything. And maybe he's right.”

The pain in his voice makes your heart break all over again for him. You didn’t realize how hurtful that can be to someone in his position. Your frustration slowly melts away as you realize the depth of his inner turmoil. You reach out tentatively, hand hovering in the space between them.

“Billy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that.” He scoffs at your apology, eyes flashing with self-loathing.

“You don't get it, do you? You don't understand what it's like to feel like you're constantly screwing everything up. And maybe I am jealous, okay? Maybe I'm jealous because I'm afraid of losing you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his confession, your own emotions swirling as you struggle to process his words. You reach out to him, hand brushing against his arm in a gesture of comfort.

“Billy, you don't have to be afraid. I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be here for you.” He meets your gaze. “But it’s not an excuse for acting like an asshole. You said you’d try to be better and then you go and beat up Steve. When will things change?”

“Fuck, I know, Y/N. And I'm sorry for what happened with Steve. I messed up.” You can see the pain etched into his features, the weight of his struggles bearing down on him like a heavy burden. He leans one arm beside your head against the brick, face closer than normal.

“I understand what you’re dealing with, Billy. But you can't keep hurting people because you're hurting too. You have to find a way to deal with your anger and your pain without taking it out on others.” Billy's shoulders slump, his expression weary as he runs his other hand through his hair, breath fanning out in your face, hints of mint and tobacco filling your nose.

“I know, Y/N. I'm trying, I really am. But sometimes it feels like I'm drowning, and you…you make everything feel lighter.” He whispers, eyes closing and softly bumps his forehead against yours.

“Come over after school. I’m giving you one more chance, Billy.” You give him another opportunity to show you he’s willing to try and be different, not just say it but do it.

“I promise I won’t screw this up again.” Billy’s eyes meet yours intensely.

“4 pm. Don’t be late. I have work later tonight.” You command and he steps back to put distance between you. You find yourself missing the warmth his body radiates.

“See you then, little mouse.” Billy offers you a small, almost shy smile before turning to leave, his footsteps echoing against the pavement as he disappears around the corner.

As Billy disappears from view, you can't help but cling to a sense of hope that your words have resonated with him, sparking a genuine desire to change. Despite the weight of his past actions, you can't shake the empathy you feel for him and the turmoil he endures every day. You're determined to be a beacon of light in his darkness, to show him the beauty and gentleness that life has to offer when given a chance. You know it won't be easy, but you're committed to walking alongside him on his journey toward healing and redemption.

As the clock struck the agreed-upon time, there was a knock at your front door. Opening the door, you welcome Billy in with a smile.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” Billy steps inside, glancing around the modest entryway of your small two-bedroom house. You motion for him to follow as you lead the way into the living room.

"Come on in. I'll give you the grand tour," You say with a hint of amusement, knowing there wasn't much to show.

He follows you through the living room, which doubled as your dad's makeshift office space, cluttered with paperwork stacked high in a worn-out armchair. Billy’s eyes scan the room before following you down the narrow hallway to your room, which serves as a sanctuary of sorts amidst the messiness of our humble home. Pushing open the door, you usher him inside.

"Welcome to my domain," You declare proudly, gesturing around the small space.

Your room was certainly a reflection of your eclectic tastes and passions. Photographs adorned the walls, capturing moments from your life that held special significance. Stacks of vinyl records and cassette tapes sat beside an old record player. Film rolls were scattered across your desk, waiting to be developed into cherished memories. Cameras of varying sizes and ages rested on shelves, each one a tool for capturing the beauty of the world around.

Books lined the shelves, their worn spines bearing the marks of countless readings. Yarn and crochet hooks lay strewn about, evidence of your latest creative endeavors.

You can’t help but watch as Billy takes it all in, his eyes widening with curiosity and appreciation. There was a warmth in his gaze, a recognition of something familiar in the midst of the unfamiliar.

"You've got quite the setup here," he remarks, his voice full of genuine admiration.

You smile, feeling a sense of pride in sharing a special piece of yourself with him. In that moment, you realize that despite the modesty of your surroundings, there was beauty and richness to be found in the things that mattered most to you. And you couldn’t help but admit that Billy has become one of those things.

"Thanks," You respond, settling onto your bed with a sense of contentment and Billy joins you.

As you delve into the next chapter of the book report, the quietness of your room envelopes you both like a cozy blanket. Billy pauses for a moment, looking around with a contemplative expression.

"You must enjoy the quiet," he observes.

"Yeah, I do. It’s nice to be able to bask in peace."

Billy's gaze lingers on your for a moment before he speaks again. "But it must get lonely, being here all by yourself most of the time."

"Yeah, it can," you admit quietly, meeting his gaze. "That's why I like books so much. They give me comfort and escape, you know? It's like I can lose myself in the words on the pages and forget about everything else for a while."

Billy nods understandingly, "I get that," he says softly and retreats suddenly from your bed, his eyes drawn to a box of photographs sitting on your desk. Curiosity piqued, he begins rifling through them, his fingers delicately handling each image as if afraid to disturb the memories captured within.

You watch him from the bed, pen pausing mid-sentence. The photographs were a glimpse into your past, a collection of moments frozen in time that told the story of your family's journey. Among them were pictures of a woman who bore a striking resemblance to you, along with snapshots of your dad, sister, and you growing up.

"That's my mom," You break the silence that has settled in the air.

Billy looks up from the photographs, his expression softening with understanding. "She looks... she looks a lot like you.”

"Yeah, she did. I got my love for photography from her," A bittersweet smile playing at the corners of your lips. "She used to take me and my sister on all sorts of adventures, capturing moments with her camera."

There was a heaviness in your words, a weight of sorrow carried by the memories of a mother lost too soon. You could see a flicker of recognition in Billy's eyes, a shared understanding of the pain of losing a parent.

"I don't have many photos from my childhood," Billy confesses quietly, his mind drifting to the lone picture of his mother that he kept tucked away in his wallet. "Just one of my mom. She left when I was ten."

You felt a pang of empathy for him, a deep ache for the loss he had endured. "I'm sorry," You murmur.

Billy's eyes meet yours, a silent understanding passing between you. In that moment, you were not just two teenagers working on a book report and figuring out what this truly was between you—you were kindred spirits bound together by the shared experience of loss and loneliness.

"It gets hard sometimes, doesn't it?" Billy asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, feeling the weight of his words resonate within. "Yeah, it does," The vulnerability of your shared pain forging a bond between you that feels both fragile and unbreakable.

And as you sat there, two souls united by grief and longing, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected connection that had blossomed amidst the quiet solitude of your room. In each other's company, the burden of loneliness felt a little lighter, replaced by the warmth of companionship.

"You're so polite with your sadness," he tells you, his voice gentle yet piercing. "It's like you don't want to ruin anything for anyone else."

His words struck a chord within you, stirring feelings of guilt and self-awareness that you had long tried to suppress. It was true—you had spent so much time trying to hide your pain, to shield others from the weight of your sorrow, that you had forgotten how to truly acknowledge it yourself.

"I don't feel the need to bother other people with my problems," You reply quietly. It was a defense mechanism, a way of protecting yourself from the vulnerability of opening up to others. But in doing so, you had inadvertently closed yourself off from the possibility of genuine connection and understanding.

Billy regards you with a mixture of empathy and concern, his eyes searching yours for any sign of need. In that moment, you felt a flicker of something stirring within—a longing for connection, a yearning to be seen and understood for who you truly are.

"You don't have to carry it all on your own, you know," His words are a gentle reminder of the strength that could be found in vulnerability. "Sometimes, it helps to share the burden with someone else." Billy sits back down beside you, thighs touching but you need more. You graze for his hand, softly running your fingers against the top of his hand and slowly turning it over. You trace his calloused palm, feeling him go tense, trying his hardest to not clench his fist together. You finally thread your fingers through his, squeezing a few times. You look up at him, his gaze locked on your hands, bound together and resting on his thigh.

“You don’t have to carry everything on your own either, Billy.” Your whisper, and he repeats your words over and over in his head.

And as you sit there, two souls united by grief and longing, you believe you both can find the courage to confront your pain and begin the journey toward healing together.

Taglist: @msbillyhargrove @uselessbutinteresting @milestellergfs @periwinkle-quill @ghostcastaway @iletmytittiestitty-russ @missingbillyhargrove @lotionlamp @billys-pretty-babe @isimpfortoomanypeople @rosey96

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove smut #stranger things #stranger things billy #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things billy hargrove #Spotify

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jinnie-ret · 4 months

Text

perfect places

lee know x reader

genre: fluff

content warnings: alcohol, smoking

word count: 1.1k

summary: y/n never thought she'd be talking to a stranger til the sun rose, but it was better than feeling trapped at the local bar

This is a bit shit but oh well haha

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She really couldn't be bothered for a night out clubbing tonight. If you asked her a couple of years ago then she'd be up for it any day of the week, but now, she much preferred a cosy night indoors, wallowing about not knowing what to do with her life over a warm hot chocolate.

Well, she could do without the wallowing, but that was besides the point. Forced to go out clubbing with her friends, she was not designated driver, for none of them drove there, but she was designated responsible adult. She didn't know what she preferred more, drinking so she actually enjoyed herself, or not having to feel sick the next morning.

The bassy music was loud, and regretfully, she and her friends had only been there for about half an hour now. She knew this because she checked her phone.

"Y/N, outside!" her friends shouted over the music to her, all of them holding hands and connecting a chain to make it outside to the smoking area.

Ah, a moment of peace. A break for the ears.

Y/N rustled through her handbag for a cigarette before cursing when she realised she didn't have a lighter.

"Shit!" she huffed, rolling her eyes and leaning back against the wall, before her prayers were answered and a handsome guy stood in front of her with exactly what she needed.

"Need a light?" the guy smirked at her frustrated expression before offering her his lighter, curiously decorated with cat stickers.

"You're a Saint," Y/N exaggerated, gratefully taking the object and lighting her cigarette.

"Far from it, I'm Minho," he introduced himself, laughing lightly as the girl in front took a relieved sigh after a puff.

"I don't know I think I've seen that name in the bible somewhere," Y/N joked, happy to be talking to someone sober even if she was exhausted.

"Yeah, yeah," Minho laughed, "what's brought you out tonight then? Normally all the girls here end up off their faces hammered."

"You'd have to at a place like this. 'HooBAEs' is an awful name and an even more awful place," Y/N scrunched her nose whilst nodding back at the dodgy neon light. "Only good thing about it is the cheap drinks."

"Not taking advantage of them tonight then?" Minho quirked a brow, joining her in leaning against the wall as he smoked from his own cigarette, tilting his head back to look at her.

"Nah, I'm DRA. Designated Responsible Adult," Y/N sighed, looking over at her friend's who were drunkenly giggling and mingling with a group of boys that seemed their age.

"Tell me about it, I'm on NONSS duty. No one night stand shenanigans," Minho laughed, following where her eyes were looking.

They must be his friends.

"Awfully specific," Y/N commented.

"Very," Minho took another drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out. "I'm bored, wanna ditch this place and-"

"Oh I'm not looking for that tonight. You're very nice but-" Y/N blushed, looking away from Minho.

"Woah, woah, hold your horses, you didn't let me finish. You do flatter yourself," he chuckled before standing on front of her, "what about we leave babysitting duty for tonight and find somewhere else to chat?"

"Hmmm, ok," Y/N shrugged and nodded, watching her intoxicated friends stumble back inside to the chamber of doom. Ok, maybe that was an exaggeration but it really was the last place she wanted to be right now.

They walked for five minutes, peacefully taking in the night time air as Minho led them to a bench that overlooked the town.

"Wow, it's so peaceful," she glanced across at the little lights that lined the buildings.

"Better than that bar, right?" Minho nodded, taking a seat on the bench and patting the space next to him for Y/N to sit down.

"Want another?" Y/N passed a cigarette to Minho and they both proceeded to light them and sit in the quiet night air. "You know, I've never felt so calm before, it's so relaxing here."

"I come here all the time. It's a good place to think," Minho said as he stared out at the stars. He'd never felt so comfortable around a stranger but some reason he felt compelled to talk to Y/N.

"What do you like to think about?" Y/N leant back in the bench, tilting her head to the right to look at Minho.

"I try to think about what I wanna do in life," Minho sighed, "my parents wanted me to become a lawyer."

"Oh, booo, well, some like it but I couldn't," Y/N shook her head, "my parents wanted me to become a doctor, but all I wanna do is work with cats," she took another drag from her cigarette.

"I love cats too," Minho said, flicking the flame on his lighter on and off.

"Couldn't tell," Y/N laughed sarcastically looking at the cat stickers on the item.

Minho giggled shyly to himself as he rubbed his thumb across the stickers of his cats. The two them ended up chatting til sunrise basking in each other's company.

"Here, give me your phone," Y/N bravely and uncharacteristically spoke up, taking Minho's phone as he gave it to her with a raised eyebrow, leant back in the bench with his arms folded behind his head.

"Oh, you've got a text from 'Quokka' and it very drunkenly says... Hyung, where are you, Prince is off the rails," Y/N handed his phone back to him after putting her phone number in on it.

"Oh shit," Minho's eyes widened.

"Oh shit indeed, I swear Prince was dead, although that could just be your drunk Quokka friend-"

"We better get back, come on," Minho hurried her as they headed back to the bar, and when they got back, they saw all their friends stumbling out of the club.

"Hyungggg!" a guy waved Minho over.

"Y/Nnie!!!" her friends cheered her over.

"Where's Hyunjin?"

"Where's Minji?"

"Oh they went to f-"

"They left early."

"Come on, let's get you home," Minho grabbed who Y/N assumed was his Quokka friend by the arm.

"I better get you both home," Y/N sighs and gets her two friends to start walking with her.

"I'll text you!" Minho calls over his shoulder with a smirk, knowing full well that Y/N had put her number in his phone.

Y/N turned around with a shy smile, waving as Minho got his friend into a taxi as she did the same thing. They had met by chances but hopefully things would go somewhere, who knew she'd meet someone and like them instantly. Perhaps it was worth it coming out that night.

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top listeners: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kai-lee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist

#skz #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fic #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #minho fluff

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yuujispinkhair · 2 years

Text

Comfort from the King

When you catch the flu, your Yakuza husband is there to take care of you.

Pairing: Yakuza!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: Mentions of flu symptoms, crime-related themes, Yakuza, there is some blood on Sukuna's clothes. All characters are of age. My blog is 18+. Minors don't interact.

This story is set in my Yakuza AU, but you can read it without reading the main story. All you need to know is that reader is married to Yakuza King Sukuna.

I wrote this for a request I got for Yakuza!Sukuna taking care of his wife when she is sick. I hope it can offer you some comfort! Get well soon!

It happens pretty fast. Suddenly you feel dizzy and too hot, and an hour later a dull headache makes your head pound uncomfortably. The short nap you take on the couch doesn't help. You feel even more drowsy afterwards. You barely make it to the kitchen to get some aspirin and water.

A temperature check tells you that you have a fever. Great. Just great. You caught the flu, apparently. You slowly walk to the master bedroom, falling onto the luxurious bed with a pained sigh. All you want to do is sleep.

For a moment, you contemplate texting someone. Your first thought is Sukuna, of course. But you know that your husband has a lot of work today. He told you this morning that he has some important business in the casino.

You could also ask your bodyguard Nobara to come over. Or maybe Yuuji, your brother-in-law. But on the other hand, they have other things to do too. Nobara was happy about the free day and wanted to go on a shopping spree. And Yuuji has a lot of work with his arcades and pachinkos and the pizza delivery service too. You would feel bad about bothering them.

So you put your phone back down and tell yourself that you'll be fine. Sleep will have to do!

Several hours later, you wake up from a restless sleep filled with fever dreams. Your pulse is racing, you feel dizzy, and the headache is back, even worse than before. But you feel too weak to get up and get more painkillers.

You groan as you roll onto your left side and press your burning face onto your pillow, hoping that the silk bedding will provide some comfort.

It's already dark outside. The city lights sparkle in the near distance, a million little lights in countless skyscrapers, joined by neon signs and the busy Tokyo traffic.

Usually, you love this time of day, when the city turns into this colorful sea of lights. But tonight, you can't see the beauty in it. Instead, the lights hurt your eyes, and you turn back onto your right side, facing away from the large floor-to-ceiling windows.

The penthouse lies in darkness, except for the dim lights in the hallway, which buzzed to life when the light sensors noticed the growing darkness. It's completely quiet in here. How late is it?

Your hand pats weakly at the pillow in search of your phone. You find it and lift it with a shaky hand. Almost 8:00 pm. You slept so long, yet you feel like you ran a marathon. Your whole body aches, and you feel cold sweat on your temples. The fever must have gotten higher. You are so cold, your body is trembling slightly and your teeth chatter as you pull the blanket tighter around yourself.

A sudden longing hits you, making tears gather in your eyes. You want Sukuna here with you. You feel so sick, so weak, and all you want is for your big and strong husband to pull you into his arms and hold you.

Just as you finish that thought, you hear the faint sound of the elevator door opening. Sukuna is home! Almost as if he sensed that you were thinking of him. Sometimes you think he has some secret superpower like that. He always seems to know when you need him.

His velvety voice calls out:

"Darling, I'm home! Where are you?"

"H...here...in the bedroom."

Your voice comes out hoarsely, followed by an immediate cough. You press a hand to your chest as your whole body shakes from coughing so hard when your husband's familiar tall and muscular figure appears in the dimly lit doorframe.

"What's wrong? Why are you in bed?"

Even in the almost dark room, you can see his eyes sparkle as he fixes you with an intense, searching gaze.

A second later, he crosses the small distance between the door and the bed with several long strides. The mattress dips lightly when he sits down and leans over you.

A large hand lands on your arm, warm and comforting. And then Sukuna's low voice speaks soothingly to you,

"Are you sick?"

You nod slightly as Sukuna's hand wanders to your forehead, pressing gently against it. He makes a soft sound, a light gasp, before taking his hand off your forehead and wrapping his strong arms around you, to pull you into his comforting embrace.

"Poor thing, come here! You have a fever, hm?"

You can't stop a sob from escaping your lips as you snuggle bonelessly into your husband's arms and press your face against his buff chest. He feels so warm and solid, so comforting.

You inhale his scent. Expensive perfume and traces of cigarette smoke on his suit. He probably had to meet a business partner in one of the backrooms of the casino. There's also a faint iron smell indicating that your husband had some rather tough business to deal with today.

It should be terrifying to smell traces of blood on your husband's clothes. But it isn't. Not to you. Not when it comes to Sukuna. You know his job. You know everything about it and about him. The King can be ruthless and deadly with the ones who threaten him and his loved ones. But here with you, he is the most caring and loving man you have ever met.

"Kuna...I'm so glad you're home."

It feels so good to be in his arms and snuggle against his broad chest. One of his hands comes up to pet your hair soothingly.

"If I had known you were sick, I would have come home sooner. Why didn't you call me?"

"I didn't want to bother you at work. It's just a fever, Kuna. I thought a bit of sleep would be enough. It's not like you could have done anything anyway."

At that Sukuna pulls slightly away to look at you. His large hand cups your chin and gently tilts your face upwards, making you look at him.

You're still feeling dizzy, and everything looks a bit blurry to you at the moment. But you still admire the handsome face in front of you.

Sukuna is beautiful. A face that would be far too pretty for a Yakuza boss if it weren't for the black filigree lines showing everyone how powerful this stunning man is. But he looks at you with nothing but love in his gaze. His pretty maroon eyes glitter in the dimly lit bedroom as his thumb rubs over your bottom lip in a tender caress.

"I am the King of Tokyo. I can do anything."

The comment could be arrogant, said to a business partner. Or threatening, said to an enemy. But here in your bedroom, it is said with an amused tone. The typical boyish smirk spreads over Sukuna's handsome face, and he adds:

"You know you are always more important to me than anything else. So for the future, keep it in mind: You call me or text me when you aren't feeling well, ok? And I will find a way to help you. Either I come home to you and look after you myself. Or if that isn't possible, I send someone over. Nobara is literally always on stand-by. And Yuuji would be very willing to take care of you too, you know that. Please get it into your pretty head: You never bother me. I will always take care of you, no matter what. Even if it just means bringing you soup and aspirin."

You feel the corners of your lips lift in a soft smile, despite your exhaustion. Your heart feels so full.

"You're the best husband."

Sukuna blesses you with one of his genuine smiles, so dazzling and pretty that it still makes you stare in rapt fascination anytime it happens.

He leans closer again and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek as his strong arms envelop you once again in his comforting embrace.

"Get some more rest, darling. And I'll make you something to eat."

You can only nod as your husband's strong hands gently make you lie back down on the bed. You mumble a soft thanks before drifting off to another round of sleep as the exhaustion wins again.

The next time you wake up is when Sukuna walks back into the bedroom, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of freshly cooked soup and a large glass of water, and some more aspirin.

He must have taken a shower because his pink hair is slightly damp, and he changed into comfy grey cashmere sweatpants that ride low on his hips. He doesn't wear a shirt. Even in your current drowsy state, you can't help but admire the sharp v-line and the defined abs and pecs. A strong body full of gorgeous muscles and filigree tattoos.

A body that is very warm and comforting when you are snuggled against it twenty minutes later after you finished eating your soup and your husband carried you bridal style to the bathroom and back to bed before handing you the pills and the glass of water, watching you with a stern but loving gaze to make sure you drank everything.

And now he is hugging you from behind, keeping you warm and making you feel loved. You sigh happily and close your tired eyes.

Sukuna is so big and strong. His hugs always make you feel safe. But tonight, it feels even more comforting than usual. The fever makes you feel weak and over-emotional, tears welling up all too easily because of the exhaustion, pain, and overall feeling of helplessness. But here in Sukuna's arms, everything is ok again.

He is warm and comforting. He is your home, just like you are his. Even his voice is soothing to you, a low and tender whisper:

"How are you feeling, my love?"

"Hmmm, still lousy, but your soup and your hugs help... maybe I should have really called you."

"Yes, you should have. Don't hesitate to do it next time. You're my Queen and my wife. You're my everything. I love you. I want to take care of you, darling. Always."

And you know that it is true. Because Itadori Sukuna is a man of his word.

"I love you too, baby. Thank you for taking care of me."

You can feel him smile against your neck upon hearing the pet name, and his muscular arms tighten around you even more as he pulls you against his firm body.

"No need to thank me, sweetheart. This is part of the package. See it as my all-inclusive deal. And you are the only one who gets all the benefits."

His words make you chuckle, but it turns into a loud yawn. You put a hand on top of Sukuna's, where it's resting lovingly beneath your breasts.

"So tired... 'm gonna sleep again... g'night, Kuna..."

"Good night, my love. Get well soon."

And this time, you fall asleep in your husband's strong arms. His muscular, firm body is pressed tightly against your back, strong arms holding you safely in his embrace while soft lips trail gentle kisses over your neck, and his low velvety voice whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

Words of love and affection that are even more precious somehow because they come from a man who is feared by everyone else in this city. But not by you. Because to you, Sukuna is your lovingly devoted husband.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope this little story can give you some comfort! Yakuza!Sukuna always makes me feel better. There's just something about a powerful and dangerous man like him going all sweet and caring for the ones he loves that makes me weak! It was nice to write for Daddy Kuna again :)

Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs make me happy!

#sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader

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sugarpasteltmnt · 2 months

Note

Hi there! I've read a lot of ROTTMNT fics, and I mean. A LOT. But holy fuck The Neon Void is literally the most amazing thing I've ever read.

The pacing is FANTASTIC? I'm way too impatient for reveals to take so long in my own writing, the fact you've managed to make it last 20 chapters (so far)? INSANE. /POS.

The characterization is absolutely phenomenal, it genuinely feels like this is something that could have happened in canon. It FEELS like the characters in every sense, even with Leo being the way he is! Its genuinely amazing.

Not to mention the ANGST. Presumed death is my favorite trope ever, and the fact all of their grief feels so palpable? The way you described Raph's grief in one of the chapters stuck with me so much, I forget the exact wording but it was like "He couldn't be more grateful to have had Leo for a brother, or more proud of the fact he had been his big brother" I don't know something like that AND IT FELT LIKE A KNIFE TO THE CHEST. WONDERFULLY DONE.

AND THE TELEPORTATION THING- making true teleportation so difficult in such a smart way was such a great move. I LOVE that aspect so much.

I'm gonna cut this ramble off here before I further go off the rails, I just wanted to say this is my all time favorite fanfic EVER. Even long when this is over I expect myself to come back to reread it VERY often. You're doing an amazing job, and you're a really awesome writer!

Have a wonderful day! :D

SOB THANK U SO MUCH

But seriously, that means a lot ;w; I’m always worried that my pacing is too slow, or if I’m hitting the marks on the boys’ personalities. ESPECIALLY with Leo fighting between insane giggle fits and self-loathing. It's been a challenge for sure. The reassurance that it’s somewhat believable makes me incredibly happy ;w; The story beats of this fic are honestly new territory for me—so it means the WORLD to me that you took the time to let me know you like my silly story!!! Especially since this is the first fic I’ve ever published—it’s a huge relief knowing that people enjoy my brain worms LOL

Honestly the amount of positive feedback I’ve gotten just from my silly little fic has totally floored me. Everyone has been so sweet and so kind and honestly writing this fic has brought me so much joy and I’m so happy that it makes other people happy too ;w;

But like??? The fact you feel like it could be canon?? THAT IS SUCH A HIGH COMPLIMENT THANK YOU 😭😭😭 I will admit I am proud of the teleportation aspect, and while I have some other silly particle physics lessons planned I just hope it all makes sense to readers in the end ;w;

Thank you again so so so much ;w; I love big dramatic reveal fics too, so it’s been VERY painful for me to have made it this far without a reveal LMAO. Seriously, I can’t wait to get this silly guy written and moved out of my head to free up rent space for some fanfic READING again (I WILL get distracted if I let myself read other fics rn SOB) I’ll def have to check yours out too because it sounds DELICIOUS 🤤✨

#thank you again so much ;w;#TNV asks #pastel prattling #this was such a nice pick me up while struggling to polish this chapter #[do it for her meme but it's all my readers]#writing action is hard af but hopefully it sounds cool in the end lmao

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orphicdazai · 1 year

Text

strangers in the night | mafia!dazai x fem!reader

❛𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦❜

mafia!dazai x fem!reader. slight angst. lots of fluff. both dazai and reader are 17 here. underage drinking. mentions of depressive thoughts. it's actually pretty long. my first time publishing something like this oop. i have a one shot book fully dedicated to dazai on wattpad! check it out!

also read this with Frank Sinatra's "strangers in the night" for a better experience!

USELESS.

Dazai's existence was absolutely useless.

He never once considered his own life to have any significance or value for him being deemed worthy at any point of his life. How could he when all he experienced was suffering and trauma. He was weak. The weak fear happiness itself. They harm themselves on cotton wool. Sometimes they are wounded even by happiness.

That's why he was so afraid to feel any happiness. He knew he'd get some kind of disappointment sooner or later and that short and small spark of joy will turn out irrelevant and useless.

Dazai's throat burned due to the sake which was poorly held by his bandaged hand, his baggy, red eyes narrowed and just kept looking down to the glass, his depressive thoughts consuming him as per usual. If you actually took a look into his brown eyes, you'd see nothingness itself staring right back at you. Nihilism. Emptiness. Uncertainty. Hopelessness.

His body was usually cold as well and very malnourished at times as he only drank himself to sleep and never seemed to care about his outer appearance at all. It was all irrelevant. As long as he was present at the mafia to do his work, nothing else mattered.

The mafia was the only thing that gave him some type of purpose. If he could call that.

He seemed to be motivated a year ago when he first joined but now... he wasn't sure anymore. He felt stuck.

The young boy was at his lowest point in life. As if he hadn't been through enough already. That his life was capable to go downhill even more wasn't something he ever thought was possible.

Breathing no longer felt like a common thing for him. It was a chore at this point. Everything was. Getting up in the morning especially was very disappointing. Dying while he had finally managed to sleep sounded the most pleasant and painless way to die. But he kept meeting his ceiling every morning, being able to sense and feel his futon underneath him and wrapped around his thin body. He'd smell the alcohol from the bottles scattered around him. He'd have to hear the cars and busy people slide through his ears. And he'd taste the bitterness of not caring to brush his teeth properly every day.

It was the same thing every time.

He wanted everything to stop.

He wanted nothing.

Sir?

Why can't he just disappear?

Sir? Hello?

Why does he have to exist?

"Sir!"

Dazai abruptly awoke from his small dozing off with tired eyes and saw how the bartender of his favourite bar stared at him in pity, his hands cleaning the glass that was now removed from his rough hand. He exhaled through his nose and crossed his arms to lay his head on them for a second, a groan leaving him.

His head hurt.

Inhaling very deeply he stood up and wrapped his dark coat over his shoulders and exchanged goodbyes with the other man, catching onto his body language that the bar was closing and that he should leave. The handsome boy ruffled his hair exhaustedly as he opened the door to exit the bar as the red neon light of the logo illuminated the left side of his face.

Thud, thud, thud.

Someone bumped his shoulder as he turned to his left, not being bothered at all since he felt slightly numb all over and had his head elsewhere for him to register anything.

"Oh I'm sorry."

His head turned slightly to the right, all droopy and empty.

There was you, a young student who had to run errands and just was about to return home and you always did so by walking through this alleyway where the bar was. You stopped in your tracks and locked eyes with the stranger.

You couldn't help but notice how malnourished he looked, hair all unkempt, reeking badly of alcohol. Scrunching your nose at the stench, you took in the rest of his appearance. He was young, handsome but yet so... empty. The way he stared at you with his right eye covered by a bandage - in fact his neck and hands were covered by them too - his gaze on you was brief yet delivered so many things all at once.

Nothingness. Hopelessness. Exhaustion.

He had not said a word after you had apologised and just slowly turned around, his focus on the ground as he didn't want to be a burden to some random stranger like he always was. He was a burden. A heavy rock that just wouldn't leave his close ones' lives.

"Wait."

Dazai ceased his steps and just stood there, his long black coat that Mori gave him swaying a bit when he halted, never turning around still.

You sighed as you began to stride over to him before you were right next to him, slowly and gently making yourself present so you wouldn't overwhelm him. Dazai's eyes moved to your face again, this time having a much better view of your soft features, his eyes unconsciously analysing you as he did with everyone. His brain was always working, even when he wasn't sober.

"What are you doing here, drinking until you can't think?" you asked suddenly, a slight frown on your brows, sensing a new found urge to check up on this random stranger's well being.

You were always like that.

A bright person, who would always make sure that people were okay, that they were happy, taking them into your precious time to give them what they deserved. It's just who you were. You were practically molded to behave this way, you just couldn't help it.

When you saw the stranger's terrible state, you couldn't help but let your empathetic nature take over you.

Dazai, who was still drunk and felt his head getting pierced repeatedly from all the alcohol, not being able to think properly, parted his lips to say something, but didn't yet. His eyes lazily and exhaustedly watched your face, blinking and raising his brows to bring himself to do literally anything.

He was able to form a thought in his so fogged and messed up mind. He thought that you were only wasting your time on him and shouldn't care about him like this. He wished you'd go away.

"'Am tired... that's why," he finally uttered with a slight raspy tone. His voice was smooth and pleasant to hear, it made you calm down immediately for some reason, like honey would calm down a sore throat. His answer was short, his breath stinking of sake to which you dipped your head back a bit, still not trying to seem rude.

It took you a moment to understand at what he meant with 'tired'. It wasn't just him wanting to sleep. No. It was something way deeper than that. He was tired of lots of things, things that may have plagued his mind and he wanted an escape.

You didn't think about it any further as you didn't want to jump to any conclusions and it was none of your business. He's a stranger after all. With a small nod, you shifted on your feet a bit, your hands at your back, standing with a straight posture - a contrast to Dazai's, who was a bit slouched, legs a bit unstable from being so intoxicated.

"I see. You seem quite unstable... do you..." you spoke carefully, the words rolling off your tongue in a gentle manner as you trailed your eyes along his tall frame, "do you want me to help you?"

The brunette didn't say anything for a while. Again, he was reacting delayed, his dark eyes focusing and refocusing while he breathed out of his mouth in a laboured way. This shitty feeling was eating him up at the moment. Yes, he wanted your help. Yes, he needed company but-

"No. I'm fine..." he answered instead, being hesitant about his reply but settled for it. He didn't want to be a burden, that's what he kept telling himself the whole time. Dazai shut his eyes as he held in an unconscious breath before releasing it and licked his dry and chapped lips, tasting the sake again on them.

"I'm... fine," he repeated, though for more to himself than to you.

A big sigh left you at that and looked down once before you stared back at him, who had his attention to the ground now. "You're clearly not,"

Dazai heaved a bit of an agitated sigh at your words, turning his head to you once more, "Look, I appreciate your help but I already told you. I'm fine. I've handled this by myself many times," he gave a sigh of his own, beginning to move his limbs so he could walk.

But before he could, you immediately gripped his arm, halting him again and caused him to look at you with an irritated expression on his face, although there was another emotion that was hidden deep under that shell of his irritation. There was a pleading glow in his eyes, it was very very subtle which you weren't able to see. He wanted to leave. Dazai didn't want to stay here with your (e/c) eyes staring at him like that.

Please leave me alone. Please- just don't look at me like that.

He begged internally but he knew the instant you had that firm grasp on his arm, you had already made up your mind. The mafioso couldn't do anything about it, you had him under your grasp - metaphorically and literally.

At his reply, you breathed out through your nose and formed a small smile, your gaze never lifting off of his face, removing your hand from his arm and stood directly in front of him, face merely a few inches away from his own. The sake breath was now much stronger as it was hitting your face while you took in his features a bit more, finding him so pretty under the moonlight.

"How about this: I will take you to my place and I'll nourish you for a bit, take you to a lovely place where I always hang out when I feel down and take care of you. Physically and mentally. Does that sound good?" you offered, having leaned back to give him more space and intertwined your own fingers behind your back, anticipating his answer, regardless if he said yes or no.

You didn't know why you were so adamant to help this young boy out, but something inside you said that it was the right thing. That he needed this badly, this plan of yours.

Dazai just stared with a slightly surprised face. He was speechless for a moment. The brunette thought he misheard you. What? Nourish him? Take him somewhere lovely? This had to be a joke. What were you thinking? Did he seem that approachable to you at the moment? What did you even like about him, in this ugly state of his?

As he didn't reply yet again, you let out a huff and became a bit impatient. "If you let me do that, I swear I'll leave you alone afterwards. I promise. Just let me take care of you," you spoke, minimal desperation lingering in your tone. You yourself didn't understand your own actions.

The boy opposite you inhaled deeply, a bitter expression on him before he shut his eyes once more and opening them again, "Fine," he breathed out, eyes and the rest of his face softening.

He couldn't help it. Not when you stared at him like that with your (e/c) eyes. He let his inner desires get the best of him, to escape this agonising loneliness for a while.

It wasn't like he was unfamiliar with women wanting to spend time with him after a few drinks at the bar Lupin. He was a well known catch for the ladies and he loved them just as much. Dazai was a natural flirt, natural smooth talker that would get any woman or girl fall to her knees for him. He had that talent in him. And he used it for his own selfish needs or other things. For information or manipulation if needed.

But what he found in your eyes wasn't something lustful. It was actual care and concern swimming in them. You genuinely wanted to treat his terrible state, you actually cared about him.

No woman or girl had ever done this before. He didn't know how to feel about it. Should he be glad? Scared? He simply didn't know.

So after he agreed, you began to head to your place which wasn't far from the bar. As mentioned earlier, you'd always take this route through the alleyway as a shortcut and you would normally take it if you ran for errands.

"What's your name, by the way?" you turned your head as you two walked slowly, since the stranger was still somewhat unstable with his footing.

He turned to you, being ripped off of his thoughts and managed to smile a bit, which you thought was absolutely beautiful.

"Dazai."

He simply answered, no need to say anything else.

You nodded at that and smiled a bit wider as you kept staring at him. "It's nice to meet you, Dazai. I'm (Y/n)," you said politely, his arm occasionally brushing against yours the further your legs moved.

The young man gave you another faint smile of his which you just had to catch a glimpse of and then silently followed you to your home. He didn't have to say anything further as you knew he wasn't exactly in the mood to speak that well. Dazai would sometimes drag his feet forwards, his body losing balance to which you would immediately catch him and keep him up straight.

"Thanks," he'd mutter, absolutely indifferent at this point and not embarrassed since he'd been in situations such as these before. Being touched by a girl, feeling comfortable in her embrace.

"Don't mention it," you'd softly say back with a small smile, the cool air of the night subtly hitting your skins, swaying your hair gently. There weren't many people around where you lived, so you two wouldn't be bothered or interrupted by anyone as you calmly kept walking.

About ten minutes later you'd arrive at the familar neighborhood you grew up in and went up the small stairs that led to your front door and unlocked the keys. Your apartment was relatively tall and average looking to Dazai, who would wander around his eyes in much interest and absentmindedness, his hands in his pockets. The names of your neighbours and the buttons for the bell were plastered on your left side in the booth-like entrance. He'd memorise every name by skimming over them with one pointed look of his, just out of boredom.

You entered the lobby and walked over to the elevator and pressed the button which glowed red around the edges in a circle as Dazai stood next to you, having begun to look better since he took some fresh air. His brown eye wasn't so tired and unfocused anymore but he still felt the strong effects of the alcohol in his system, his head hurting a bit.

Glancing to your left side a bit, you got a short view of his side profile which consisted of a sharp jawline, a perfect nose, soft yet chapped lips and that bandage wrapped around his head to hide his right eye. He was very handsome, you realised again. His hair looked sweaty yet you wanted to run your fingers through them. His mere presence looked so inviting, which was probably the reason why you offered him all of this the first place most likely. But you genuinely wanted him to feel better. He needed it.

Upon the elevator making a 'ding' noise and opening its doors, you both entered and you chose to break the silence. "Dazai, how old are you?"

His eyes found yours again as you two settled in the elevator and then looked ahead of him, shrugging his shoulders before he answered, "Seventeen. You?" the brunette moved his head so it was focused on your direction again while you had pressed the floor number for the elevator to take you upwards.

You looked back at him and smiled timidly, "Me too,"

His face seemed to look even better under the elevator lights, making you see his red cheeks from the alcohol, the shade of his brown eye shining a bit more which made your heart skip a beat. You immediately broke your eyes away from him and fixed your attention to your feet, the mirror beside you, the digital number that went higher the higher the elevator went - anything except his eyes.

What was wrong with you? He's a stranger. Sure you'll be spending time with him but you guys just met.

Still having a rather hazy mind, Dazai's gaze lingered on you, trailing it down your shorter figure and closed his parted lips before turning his head back to his front. A small micro-expression of smugness was evident on his face in a lazy way when his tiredness took over again and his face fell back to indifference.

Cute.

When you reached your floor level, you exited the elevator and went to your door, unlocking it and lead him inside as you two removed your shoes.

Immediately, Dazai would dart his eyes around your place, having noticed other used shoes - female and male - which indicated that you didn't live alone and with your parents in full picture. He seemed glad for you. Someone as sweet as you deserved that. A roof above your head, decent clothes and a family that cared about you and loved you. Then he'd take notice of your place in general. The wallpaper, the aesthetic of it all, pictures, decorations, clothes or items lying around or hung at places. Your house's scent was pleasant. It smelled like fresh coffee beans, even being able to sniff out some laundry that had been recently done. Dazai immediately felt cozy by just standing at your apartment door in those ten seconds alone.

"Welcome to my home. Make yourself comfortable," you said with a polite grin and began to head inside more, guiding him to the living room. Your eyes threw him a short glance as you ran your hand through your (h/c) locks.

"You can remove your coat, you know?" you said, having seen his black coat hanging on his shoulders the whole time, him still being in a somewhat daze.

Upon hearing your words, he blinked, words a bit stuck in his throat as he felt a bit caught off guard. He gave you a nod, slowly grabbing his coat and slid it off of him.

You suppressed a giggle at his expression, finding it a bit amusing. As he had removed his coat, you came closer to him and gently took it from his hands, moving your head up a bit because of your height difference, heart fluttering a bit at that fact as you plastered a small smile. "Let me take that. You go sit on the couch and relax,"

Dazai returned your smile and shook his head in agreement, "Alright. Thank you," he said before he went to the couch and sat down, a quiet groan leaving him at how exhausted he was and only realised how sore his muscles actually were. From stress, his mental condition and his job at the Port Mafia. He leaned against the soft couch and threw his head back, letting out a relaxed sigh with closed eyes.

You had hung his coat next to all other jackets your family owned and then returned to your room, taking a fresh towel with you from your closet and then entered the living room again. When you saw Dazai sitting on the couch that way, a small blush crept up on your cheeks as you found it very attractive. He looked super good in that white button up shirt and that black vest with a matching tie, appearing professional and sophisticated. You cleared your throat at the thought with a frown and then went to stand next to the couch.

"What's up?" Dazai suddenly spoke, his eyes never opening.

Biting your lip at his intruiging yet attractive behavior, you found the words in your mouth and began to speak. "Would you like some water? You know, to sober up a bit,"

The brunette opened his eyes again before fixing them to you, a small smile displaying his lips and straightened his head again, his arms laid on the top of the back pillows. He had a certain glint to his visible eye which you couldn't place your finger on, but it seemed to be amusement. "I'd like that,"

At his answer you nodded and went to the kitchen to get him a cold glass of water and then placed it on the coffee table in front of the couch. Dazai sat up and leaned forward to grab it before drinking down the water, letting its cold sensation slide down his throat and finally ease that throbbing pain in his head. Your mouth formed an 'o' at the sight and then quickly walked off away to bring something.

Dazai watched you leave with a quizzical look when he saw you come back with a water jug and something else in your other hand. You placed the jug next to his now empty glass and stretched your hand out to him.

"Here," you said softly and opened your palm to reveal a set of painkillers to which his eyes perked up and his lip corners turning upwards slightly.

"Thank you again," he said genuinely and took the set and popped out one pill and brought it to his mouth before filling his glass with water again and swallowed the pill down.

You then shuffled to sit on the couch opposite the one he was on and began to relax yourself as you observed his movements with a faint smile.

Dazai had drunk a few more glasses of water and felt much better and more sober and leaned back again, his eyes locking with yours. "I know I said this a few times, and I can't thank you enough, but thank you for doing this," he said, his mood improving as you had been distracting him well from his previous depressing thoughts.

A giggle escaped from you at that and beamed at him, feeling warmth spread in your chest. "It's really no big deal,"

The mafioso's smile widened even more and laid his hands on his lap as he took in your face once more, absolutely pleased at the sound you made. It was very adorable to him.

After a few seconds you let out an "oh" and turned your body so you could grab the towel you had taken with you from your room and showed it to him. "Right. Since you have quite sweaty hair, I thought you might wanna wash it? You don't have to if you don't want to, but I do recommend you to do it," your tone was gentle and calming as the smile was still sitting comfortably on your lips.

Dazai couldn't help but chuckle at your considering nature, feeling so unfamiliar to such acts towards him and just smiled. As he always tried to. Convincing others of emotions he was supposed to show, yet struggled to even understand them. He'd always worn a mask in front of everybody - except Odasaku. He was different. If Dazai wasn't sure how to act, he'd hoped if he gave a simple smile that the person would accept it and move on.

"I guess I should take up the advice of a pretty girl such as yourself," he said in a smug tone, his flirtatious side returning as usual and stood up from the couch.

A warm sensation made its way to your cheeks at his words, your heart beginning to beat faster as he came closer to you and took the towel from your hands carefully, still smiling down at you. You were stunned and couldn't form any sentence and just stared up to him.

The boy merely grinned at your reaction in delight, knowing you'd do so since he could predict the actions of girls after he chose the right words every time. He then began to move his legs and turned to you again, his hands in his pockets. "Oh right, where's your bathroom?"

Gathering your composure, you cleared your throat and uttered your reply, "Just go straight ahead, the door right next to the kitchen,"

Dazai nodded and disappeared from your vision as you could hear the bathroom door lock. You let out the breath you were holding and rested back against the couch, your heart still beating profusely.

"Why is he like that?" you pouted annoyed with a frown before turning on the TV and chose to watch any show available for the moment.

The sounds of the shower could be heard and you figured that he now began to wash his hair as you suggested. That brought a smile to you face, that he decided to listen to you. Dazai had every right not to, you were still strangers after all but he still did as you asked him to and went to properly take care of him self for once.

You wondered just how much he actually cared about himself - if he actually ever did. The thought made you sad, that someone like him, who seemed charming was actually in a dark place and suffered all by himself. Then your thoughts wandered over if he had someone who cared about him like you did. If he had someone to talk to, to vent out to, share his inner most feelings. The imagination at that not bring an option for him released such an unpleasant and upsetting feeling in you.

Poor guy.

Minutes later, the bathroom door opened and Dazai stepped out, the scent of your shampoo spreading throughout the apartment, hitting your nose which soothed you greatly. He then walked in the living room with his hair all wet and messy, looking way more refreshed than before. He might've become even more handsome.

You managed a smile and looked him up and down, content with everything at the moment.

The young handsome man stared back at you with the same smile and would dry up his brown locks with the towel you gave him, stepping closer to you. "You were right with this. I feel much better," he beamed, his brown eyes having more light in them now.

Joy spread inside you at his words and giggled softly, "I told you so," you sighed and tapped your fingers on the armrest of the couch. "I'm glad you're doing better,"

He didn't answer as he kept his gaze on you, the eye contact between the both of you longer than needed, making your face grow a bit red before you spoke up again to get rid of the awkwardness within you. "So... you wanna dry your hair, I assume?" you teased a bit.

Dazai chuckled at that, "Yeah, that'd be very much appreciated (Y/n)," he threw you an amused look.

As you had taken a closer look at him, you had noticed something. "Wait- Did you take one of our bandages for your eye?" you observed, narrowing your eyes.

He looked away from you for a second, bringing a hand behind his wet hair and shrugged with raised brows, "Maybe?" he admitted by meeting his gaze back with yours and grinning cheekily.

You shook your head at that with a soft chuckle and stood up, "Seems like you got the skills to spot and find things quickly, even in unfamiliar places, huh?" you mused, very impressed by him, even though rummaging through some stranger's stuff was a bit questionable but considering his rather reasonable nature, you knew he didn't have bad intentions or was rude.

The male shrugged once more as he looked down at you with a small smirk, holding the wet towel in his hand as his brown hair stopped dripping of droplets of water. "I suppose so,"

You then led him back to your bathroom and brought your blow dryer from your room and handed it to him. He thanked you again and you stayed at his side this time while he did his job, having crossed your arms as you watched him stand in front of the mirror.

The heat of the blow dryer would reach you from time to time, actually feeling quite nice, the hair on your body standing up at the warm feeling, the sound echoing throughout the bathroom. When Dazai was finished he unplugged the object and wrapped the wire around it before giving it back to you. You smiled in response and continued to pin your eyes to him, who adjusted his hair a bit more, staring into his reflection. His eye met yours again through the mirror and you both found yourselves smiling upon that unconsciously, a certain atmosphere hanging between you.

"Alright then," you started, taking a basket and filled it with fresh fruits your mom had bought recently with some chips, sweets of all kinds, biscuits and soft drinks as well.

Dazai quirked an eyebrow at your actions as he kept eyeing your movements, growing more and more perplexed by each second. "What are you doing?"

You turned to him next to you and began to smile widely. It was the way your face brighened up as you glanced at him, radiating that warmth he grew to like the moment you had declared to take care of him just minutes before. The sentiment of it so right, so delicate, he could drown and bask in that warmth of yours any time. And your eyes shone in a way that would send a small shiver down Dazai's spine and that smile... Oh that smile of yours.

"You'll see," you gave him a teasing giggle as excitement continued to fill you. Stuffing some more things into the basket, you asked him, "Could you give me that red and white checkerd cloth, please?"

He did as you told him, walking over to the corner of your kitchen and then gave it to you which you put in the basket as well before shutting it closed, its weight making your arm go weak. Dazai took notice and formed a small smile holding the object from underneath so it wouldn't be too heavy for you.

"Here, let me take it," he offered and slid the handle off your arm and gripped it with his right hand, the bandages wrapped around it really accenting all the curves and bones. You accidentally stared at it a bit longer than you intended and then immediately looked away, to his eyes, a faint tint of pink on your cheeks.

"Thank you."

You then led him out of your home after you two wore your coats, as it was almost 2 am in the morning, the weather much colder than before with the moon shining brighter onto you both, illuminating every inch of your path beautifully. The only sounds that could be heard were your footsteps since you were the only ones outside, complete silence except for some grasshoppers engulfing you.

Both of you loved the night.

It was the best time of the day, providing you a period of time fully to yourselves, your thoughts, your wishes. Was it the way the darkness of the night that hung above you every day resembled the one that lived inside you? Was that why you loved it? Did you find an odd sense of comfort knowing you were surrounded by that very darkness?

"So tell me... where are we headed?" Dazai questioned as his footsteps synced with yours.

His voice reached your ears after a long pause of silence, the tone gentle and full of curiosity. You could sense how much better he was doing. This made you so happy.

"Just trust me on this. I want to surprise you," you grinned at him to which he chuckled beautifully.

You took the handsome stranger to the place you'd escape to when you felt mentally drained, spending your time there as long as you wanted, being comforted by the stars themselves than your own people. It was at a meadow further away from your place but not very far that you'd grow tired. The exact spot was something like a cliff of some sorts but the area was filled with all kinds of flowers and nature. If you were to look up at the night sky, the moon would smile back at you, sitting close to you at that very spot.

Arriving at your comfort place, you faced Dazai, still wearing a big smile as he looked down at you with a soft expression, anticipation flowing in his dark eyes. "Close your eyes,"

Again, he did as you asked him to, unintentionally smiling, awaiting this surprise of yours. The beat of his heart grew stronger as he sharpened his ears to listen to anything you did, becoming impatient by each second due to excitement.

You immediately took the basket from him and took out the red and white checkered cloth and spread it on the grass ground and then put the basket on top of it. Taking the food out one by one, you made sure to make everything presentable for Dazai. You wanted this to be a memorable night for him after all. The ripping of flower stems could be heard faintly as you placed various types of flowers across the cloth and properly seated yourself among the things you set up.

Then you looked back to the young boy in front of you who was waiting patiently and had his eyes closed the entire time, looking so cute.

"You can look now."

Upon that Dazai unsealed his eyes and met with the sight of you having prepared a night time picnic for him to which his mouth hung open in utter shock, his eyes growing a bit wide. You kept surprising him every moment and he wasn't complaining. Something in your eyes was so inviting. Something your smile was so exciting. Something in his heart told him that he must join you, to not hesitate even one bit, to spend this precious night with you. He felt something so unfamiliar within himself. He just couldn't explain it. What was this feeling? The boy hadn't felt it in a while he gathered.

It was the feeling of pure joy.

Without wanting to waste any time, he sat down opposite you, his sparkling eyes marvelling at the food he saw you pack in the basket with confused ones moments before. He never expected this night to go to any of this direction when he was rotting in that bar before. Never would he have thought to have someone as enticing as you by his side when he had those agonising and life draining thoughts. Never.

"You did this... all for me?" he locked eyes with yours after taking in everything around him on the ground, absolute admiration living in those brown hues.

A blush tainted the soft skin on your face, nodding your head as you took a strawberry in your hand and smiled gently towards him, "Yeah. To make you feel better. I told you, didn't I?" your voice was so sweet, so pretty, Dazai loved the tone so much. That sincerity which would always cling onto every each word leaving your soft lips.

He'd smile greatly at you, his heart fluttered at your actions. He absolutely didn't deserve any of this. He didn't deserve you.

You brought the strawberry near his mouth and kept holding onto that softness on your face. "Eat it," you urged meekly.

His lips stayed in the same position as he leaned in and took a bite of the juicy fruit, it's sweetness spreading on his taste buds, earning a hum from him. Dazai took more bites until it reached the white part, which you then put away in an extra plastic bag for the trash and extra. The lovely flavour still lingered in the brunette's mouth, the saccharine sensation having given him a push of serotonin.

Just like her own sweetness.

"That was splendid, dearest," he commented, his eyes never leaving yours.

You let out a soft giggle, tilting your head, also not breaking eye contact. "I'm glad, Dazai,"

After that you both tried everything you had taken with you for the night picnic. You made him eat the chips, the sweets and the biscuits and each time he'd give you such an adorable reaction. He was so precious. It warmed your heart so much to the point you swore it was beginning to become dependent on his presence. Seeing him so joyful at the littlest things actually made you sad in a way. Spending time like this was the bare minimum.

Did he really never get any of that?

This caused you to nourish him even more. To help him, take care of him even more.

"What brand is this?" Dazai asked as his cheeks were stuffed with the biscuits you brought with you.

You laughed at his adorable little antics and pinched that very cheek of his. "It's (brand name). You like it?" your entire being relaxed by just looking at him.

He nodded in response, gazing back at you, "Very much,"

You hummed, a smile tugging at your lips, "You can take the whole package then if you'd like,"

"Really?" his eyes shone bright, a childlike wonder on his face.

Heart racing deeply within your chest you giggled once more, "Yes. Take it,"

Dazai couldn't describe the feeling he had when he was with you in this very moment. It was like he could be a child again, make up for all the times and experiences that were stolen from him. He wished nothing more than to just spend the rest of his time here with you, at this wonderful environment, away from blood, violence, the stench of dead bodies and that physician's cold and piercing glare.

When you two had craned your necks to look up at the sky, the time being 2.30 am, you just enjoyed each other's company while admiring the stars, which stood out in the darkness more than usual.

"That one looks like a bunny, don't you think?" you pointed towards the stars above you as you two were sitting next to each other a bit more, having decided to filter out some star constellations.

Dazai raised a brow at that with a chuckle, "A bunny? You think so? Looks like noose to me," he corrected with a casual shrug.

Your mouth hung open at that with wide eyes and a frown, "What the hell? A noose? Are you serious?" you asked in disbelief and genuine confusion.

He nodded in honesty, seeing no problem with his claim, "Yeah? Is that bad?" he had an innocent spark in his eyes which really made you question things.

Moving your head upwards again, you asked him yet again, "And that one? What do you see?" you wanted to be sure if he was joking or actually serious.

The mafioso glanced to the spot among the beautiful stars and moved his mouth, "A gun or knife of some sort... I don't know," he said with another shrug, turning back to you.

A huge sigh left you at that and made your whole body face towards him a bit more, face growing a bit concerned now. "Dazai... are you... are you okay?"

When you questioned him that, he made note of your tone, how soft and wary it was. The question made him look down to his lap, taking a breath before answering you.

"Not really."

So your suspicions were right about his mental state. You decided to ask further.

"I'm sorry to hear that... Do you want to... maybe talk about it?" your eyes scanned his now more serious face.

He was breathing calmly and then latched his eyes back to your own face. "I suppose we could... but only a few things..."

"Of course, that's totally fine," you formed a comforting smile.

Dazai instantly mirrored your expression before he told you about some of his struggles. His heavy and deep depression. His suicide attempts which made you sick to your stomach but served as an explanation for the bandages around his whole body. Your heart would sink every time he'd describe his emotions... if he could even call them that.

"What about your eye? Was that self inflicted or...?" you tried to act as carefully and respectfully as possible, not wanting him to feel at unease at all.

The brunette merely smiled at your question, grateful to your politeness, "No it isn't. My boss... who happens to be a physician, treated my eye long ago. It's still healing though," he explained, running a hand through his brown locks.

Nodding at his reply, you looked down to your lap. "I see..."

"What about you?"

You heard his voice as you had been in a small daze for a second.

"Hmm?" your focus returned to the boy beside you.

"Did you go through something too? If so, you don't have to share," he wore a warm expression, pools of tenderness in his eyes.

"Do you think life has meaning?" he added once more.

You had to think about that for a moment, gathering your thoughts and emotions, the question being a very deep one of course.

"I suppose to me it does have some meaning. But even if I described it to you, it would be kind of useless don't you think?"

He had to nod at that, pointing his lip corners downwards while he pondered for a second. "You're not wrong, however I'd still like to hear your version of the reason to live," he smiled softly.

That made you smile as well before you stared towards the sky once again, "If you say so... I think that the true meaning of life can't be found so easily. You have to search for it. It isn't presented to you on a silver platter or anything. Life is deceitful, destructive and down right unfair. But despite all of that, it has it's beautiful moments... for someone like you that might seem impossible but trust me... you should cherish even the smallest spark of positive emotion. Just keep it to yourself like how you'd want your wife to treasure the ring you gifted her. I've been through a lot too, not nearly to an extent like you did but I understand how you feel, Dazai. You're stuck in a place I'd never want to return to. I'm glad I escaped that void. And I hope you do that too,"

He listened to every word you spoke, being attentive and tried to understand everything. Dazai liked the way you talked. It was soothing and tranquil. He nodded at your reasoning, finding it somewhat logical.

"I see what you mean. Seems plausible to me," he responded with authenticity. A long and tired breath escaped his mouth as he stared upwards again. "I really do hope to leave this hell hole called mind. I feel so trapped every damn day. I'm just waiting to see the day where I can look at the world through your eyes,"

You smiled with deep emotions within you at his words, feeling the same hope accompanying you, wanting nothing more than his happiness. You didn't say anything after that, thinking your facial expressions were enough to assure him you agreed with him. Darting your eyes around you, you studied the beautiful area again that you had memorised by having come here so many times. No matter how many times you'd return to this place, it would always give you solace like nothing else in the world. Every blade of grass, every tree, every single flower, every brush of wind and every company of the moon was enough.

Your nights here were drenched in long talks with yourself about things that should've been but couldn't be.

"Dazai?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" he answered almost immediately, as if it was a reflex to him to call you sweet names.

You looked back to him with a wide grin, redness coating your cheeks.

"Wanna dance?"

At that you had taken out a CD player and put a Frank Sinatra album into it and skipped to a certain song and pressed play. The sounds of a lovely melody reached your ears, flutes, violins, the bells and drums echoing around the beautiful area, the scent of the flowers making the experience much better.

'Strangers in the night exchanging glances. Wondering in the night. What were the chances we'd be sharing love before the night was through'

Dazai made a satisfied sound at the song playing and smiled broadly. "Excellent song choice, belladonna," he moved his head to you as you two were standing now, next to the picnic set up.

"I know," you said cheekily with a giggle when you held your hand out to him. "Will you allow me to dance with you, good sir?" you joked playfully.

He chuckled, completely enthralled by your idea, giving you a short nod and placed his hand on yours, gently holding it, his slightly rough skin colliding with yours. You two came closer, having had this proximity again like before, when you had asked him to come with you. There was this tension, this feeling that was constantly clinging onto you which just never let you tear your eyes from each other. It was like time had came to a halt whenever your eyes met.

Dazai's other hand found your waist as yours did with his shoulder without any question, as if you two had done this multiple times before. You'd smile like idiots when you two got ready in a comfortable stance to dance along. And that's what you did.

You let him take the lead as the calming and nostalgic song played in the background, laughing amongst yourselves. Whenever he'd take a step, you'd follow immediately, his hold on you so careful and graceful, you felt as if you were a princess in his arms. The sound of his breathy laughter was like music to your ears. He was just too breathtaking to you.

His hand that was gripping yours moved above your head and made you spin for him, you giggling at the action before he caught you again, pressing your back against his chest. The whole time your smiles wouldn't disappear. How could they when you were having such a lovely time together. Your stomach flipped at the feeling of his body pressed to yours, never ceasing to blush at Dazai's every little movements.

Right after you turned around and took his hand again to make him spin as well, earning a pretty laugh from him yet again, his brown eye glistening under the moonlight like never before this whole time you two had been together. Your hand was practically glued to his as you didn't want to let go, since his skin was so comforting, like a pillow. Everything about him was, to he honest.

"Turned out so right, for strangers in the night."

You both sang in unison, absolute glee dancing along with you, the words somehow having latched themselves onto your brains, making you think further, to other places. The young boy's face was close to yours, close enough to feel his breath on your skin, having a great close up view of his beautiful features that you found yourself adoring each time. Impossible was it to rip your gaze away from those deep, profound and complex chocolate eyes.

The air around you changed yet again, your hands on his shoulders, his on your waist, the gap between your bodies almost non-existent, just breathing calmly. You could swear his eyes flickered down to your lips, yours doing the same automatically. But you both never went any further. The two of you had flushed faces and had your throats stuffed with unspoken words.

You inhaled deeply with a deep blush, eyes darting to your side, to the picnic before you got too lost and too comfortable in his hold, "We should..." you trailed off.

Dazai's hands relaxed on your waist, a short exhale coming from him, sliding his touch down to your hips cautiously and smiled in understanding, "Yes we should,"

As it had become 3 am already and the weather was getting colder, you both chose to pack the leftover food back into the basket, Dazai carrying it again for you while you slowly made your way back to your apartment. He had given you his coat since he could tell how you were trembling a bit, you holding it close to your body, smelling his cologne and a bit of alcohol and sweat too, but it wasn't that unpleasant. Just having spent this time together you could feel how much closer you had gotten. You were so much more comfortable in each other's presence.

The thought of each other's lips wouldn't leave your minds or your scents, and how intoxicating they were to the other. It felt like both of your presences were now actively and permanently living inside your heads, sending waves of happiness to each other.

Once you arrived back at your doorstep, you spun around to face him again, wanting to see that soft expression of his again. A bitter feeling washed over you at the thought of never seeing him again after this. Not being able to hear his laughter anymore or to just listen to him talk.

Dazai travelled his eyes down to the basket and held it higher, "Should I come with you again? To help you carry the basket upstairs?" he asked with care.

He was such a gentleman, you appreciated it so much. You shook your head slowly and stepped closer to him. "No, it's fine. I can do it myself," you reached out and took the basket from him, it being much lighter due to you two having eaten so much of the food. He was still gripping the biscuits package you let him take for himself though.

Your eyes found his again and you just kept staring in silence, his brown ones examining you once more, wanting to burn your memory into his vision and mind as much as possible. You did the same, your attention glued to his gorgeous face.

"Um... my..." Dazai pointed towards you, a small chuckle leaving him.

"Oh. Sorry, I forgot," you smiled in embarrassment and slid off his long black coat and handed it back to him, which he accepted eagerly with a giggle and draped it back onto his shoulders just like when you first met him.

The young male released a breath and scratched his hair, his eyes looking a bit gloomy. "So this is goodbye huh?"

Your whole face frowned at that, not actually ready to take the final step as your heart strings were tugging you towards him, telling you to not leave him. Pouting at his words, you nodded, your own emotions of dissatisfaction evident on the outside.

"It seems like it."

Silence had filled in again for a moment longer after that. The tension grew even more heavy, almost as sharp as a knife.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me. I really enjoyed every second together with you, (Y/n)," Dazai spoke wholeheartedly, even a bit of affection lurking in his smooth voice, his eyes and cheeks no longer red from the alcohol he had consumed. No longer tired, in pain or irritated.

A wide and beautiful smile tugged on your lips, delight and happiness welled up inside you, causing your cheeks to turn crimson. "I'm glad that I was able to make you forget things. Even if it was just for this short time at night,"

He managed a grin, growing so soft for you like for no other girl he had ever before. Man, he was really going to miss you.

"Alright then... goodbye, (Y/n). Belladonna," he said that pet name with such fondness and vulnerability it really made you melt on the inside.

"Goodbye, Dazai. Until we meet again," you spoke with a clouded mind, unlocking the door to lead to your lobby, your eyes always fixed to his.

You'd both stare for a while longer, Dazai walking backwards to keep up with your staring contest, heart pounding in his chest at this bittersweet moment.

"What about your parents though? Where are they?"

He wanted to prolong this a tiny bit more. Wanting to hear your voice.

Your head perked up at his concern, chuckling softly, "They'll return soon enough. Both have their night shifts today," you elaborated rushed in an assuring way, almost fully inside the lobby.

The brunette nodded firmly, smiling brightly only for you once more before he began to turn his body. Your (e/c) eyes watched him do that, biting your lip at the emotions you were experiencing this very moment. It kept eating you up.

Dazai's back was turned to your apartment as he slowly moved his feet to head to his own place but could hear fast footsteps approaching him and he twisted his body back. Having done so, he could see you running towards him, with your pretty (h/c) hair flowing with your movements, that look of determination and yearning in your eyes, those eyes that he would always remember now.

"(Y/n)? Wha-"

That's when he felt you wrap your arms around him tightly for an embrace and he stood still, absolutely frozen on the spot. He could feel your face nuzzled against his chest, that warmth he was so drawn to having made itself present again. Snapping out of his shock, he slowly brought his own arms to your back and pressed you against him, a huge smile making its way on his handsome features, burying it into your shoulder as he inhaled your addicting scent.

The hug lasted only for a few seconds when you pulled away to look into his eyes and examined his beauty once more before leaning in and planting a soft kiss to his cheek. When Dazai felt your tender lips on his skin, he was frozen yet again, your warmth having disappeared in a flash as you had gone inside the lobby already, the door closing behind you, any evidence of your existence having completely vanished.

The young executive was still trapped in a trance, replaying the scene in his head multiple times with a racing heart before he eventually left the area. What drove him insane was that your scent was still lingering on him, not just the shampoo he had used on his hair before but that sweet perfume of yours.

In fact your beautiful face was still swimming in front of his eyes. The heat that you radiated when you walked side by side. The food you ate together with the taste still present on his tongue. The Frank Sinatra song unconsciously playing in the back of his head and the sight of you dancing with him among a flower filled meadow, the moon gleaming onto you both.

He'd glance down to the biscuits in his hand every now and then, hearing your lovely voice saying he could take the package with him. So kind. So generous.

He wanted to feel every emotion you had brought out of him this whole time. From the moment he met you until the sweet kiss you gave him. He wanted you by his side again but his job wouldn't allow that and he certainly wouldn't want someone as precious as you to be involved with the mafia in any way. You didn't deserve him nor did he ever deserve you.

Never did Dazai ever think he'd genuinely get attached to a stranger, a girl so quickly like he did with you. And it scared him. He was so torn. Part of him wanted your angelic aura next to him, the other wanting you far away so he wouldn't get either of you hurt. He couldn't risk it.

He cared about you. He was actually concerned about your well-being. Just what kind of spell did you use on him that it was a bit agonising to leave you behind? If he had a chance to re-experience the night, he'd do it in a heartbeat. As many times possible.

Dazai Osamu ached for the way you treated him. He wasn't used to it - it was super foreign to him but he wanted to dive into that sensation again. Just once. Just a little drop of it even. Just one look into your eyes would've been enough.

All he could think about was you on his way back, your very being burned in his memory now. Forever.

He was never, ever going to forget you.

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