#i'm reading and watching this just for him

[dr0wnme0ut]

Synopsis: Four university students have been murdered by a Ghostface killer. With the murders getting more vicious and frequent, you and your best friend Jungwon decide to spend the weekend indoors. He insists you stay over at his apartment with him and his two roommates;you would just be safer there.

Pairing: Ghostface!Heeseung x Female!Reader x Ghostface!Sunghoon

Warnings: DARK CONTENT. YANDERE HeeHoon. NONCON. Violence, murder, descriptions of murders, slight knife play, blood, slight blood play, degradation, threesome, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (m+f), face fucking, choking, size kink, slapping, spit, breeding kink, angst, kidnapping, drugging, mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 11k+

Author Note: Does this look familiar?! Yes! Have you read this before?! Probably. This was posted on my original blog "HooniesHoney" (You may know me as "Honey", "little ducklings") This is a new start on a new blog, I'm sorry I left you so abruptly (especially since we had just hit 1k followers!) But, I hope you all find your way to our new home! See you there little ducklings baby bats!

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"There’s always two," Jungwon mumbled, watching the reporters swarm the Dean.

There was another murder Friday night. Still no leads, no clues, just a sighting of someone in a Ghostface mask.

You looked up from your textbook and saw his weary face staring in the direction of the press conference. You were supposed to spend the morning with your best friend Jungwon prepping for an English midterm. But his focus is on the media circus that’s invaded the University campus.

"Two what?" You asked highlighting a sentence from your textbook.

"Two killers. The reporters keep saying the murders have similarities to the Scream movies but no one is talking about how there’s always two Ghostface killers in the end." He sighed, picking at the dry skin around his fingernails.

After 10 years of friendship it was always easy to tell when he was nervous, he always fiddled with his fingers and chewed holes into his bottom lip. You put your highlighter down and gently grabbed his hand to distract him from his nervous picking.

"Not necessarily", you shrugged. "The third movie only had one killer." you smiled trying to joke but his worried expression didn’t falter. He just rolled his eyes and swatted your hand away from his.

Damn, he really is nervous. You had only seen Jungwon this rattled with nerves after his parents divorce when you were kids. That was also around the time your friendship really bloomed into a type of dependency on each other. You hadn’t left each other's side for more than two days at a time, switching classes to match schedules in highschool and now you were at the same University together. Platonic soulmates you two always say. 

"Why are you so worried Won? If this is really like those movies we are safe! The killers always targeted one friend group and not to be super insensitive but the people that have been murdered weren't our friends."

He looked at you while he chewed his bottom lip watching you as you spoke. "Wonnie, we don’t go to those parties and we aren't friends with people that do. We’ll be okay."

You grabbed his hand again, rubbing circles on his palm to help ground his nerves. Skinship always calmed him down. The situation was scary, but you weren’t worried. The first two murders took place at frat parties, the third one was after a football game, and the recent one was at make out point. Places you or Jungwon don’t frequent.

"But isn’t it kind of weird?" he asked, scooting closer to you. He looked around making sure no one was in an ear shot of your conversation. Before bringing his face closer to yours and staring into your eyes.

"Keeho, Mark, Yeji, and Winter were all murdered."

"Yeah and? What’s weird about that? They’re all in the same friend group like I said." You tried to focus your attention back on your textbook ignoring the loud yelling from the reporters signaling the press conference had begun.

"The same friend group that has been tormenting us since day one of university." He said shutting your textbook and turning your body to face him fully. He grabbed your hands and held them in his, he wanted you to take him seriously. 

That was true. Those four were pretty notorious for having a mean streak. But it wasn’t just targeted at you and Won. Lots of people were constantly on the end of their mean words and cruel jokes. They were the typical rich kids who thought their parents' money made them better than everyone else, partying and drinking every weekend, with the mindset that rules didn’t apply to them. 

"They tormented lots of people Won, stop overthinking or you’ll get stress wrinkles." You mused, smoothing his brown hair down and kissing the tip of his nose. He smiled showing off the dimples you loved so much. He bumped his forehead against yours, "I’m just saying,"

He looked back at the reporters as they started to talk about what they knew about the latest murder victim that happened over the weekend, Keeho.

"I hope no one we know is Sydney fucking Prescott in this scenario." 

“Don’t worry Wonnie, no one we know is that exciting.” you joked tapping his knee, “come on cutie, we’ll be late for class.” Standing up from the courtyard table you stuffed your work into your backpack and extended your hand out for Jungwon to take. 

“As if I can focus with all this going on.” He grumbled wrapping his larger hand around yours. 

Walking into the classroom you found your usual seats next to each other and started prepping for the lecture. Out of your peripheral you saw Choi Yeonjun take the empty seat to the right of you. “Hey, bunny” A small smile gracing his pretty face and pouty lips. The cute nickname he had given you the first day you moved into your dorm. You had accidentally knocked into him with a box of your belongings causing your favorite item from home to tumble to the ground. He didn’t tease you, despite Keeho being there and making fun of you for bringing a stuffed animal to college, Yeonjun only smiled and picked up the white plush bunny from the ground and kindly offered to take the box up to your dorm for you. 

“Hey Junnie, how was your weekend?” You smiled, turning your chair to face him.

“Kind of boring actually, did you hear about Keeho?” He asked, adjusting the black rimmed glasses on his face. Such a cute nerd. 

“Of course, everyones talking about it.” They news said they found him hanging from a tree limb in the woods behind the campus at a known make out spot. He was supposedly disemboweled like Drew Barrymore’s character in the first Scream movie. He was a jerk, but no one deserves to die like that. How can someone even stomach doing something like that? 

“Yeah..my little brother Gyu tried to tell him not to go out alone so late at night but he was too egotistical to listen.” He sighed leaning back in chair. Gyu and Keeho were best friends from what you heard, which was odd considering how many times Keeho stole Yeonjun’s glasses and tripped him in the halls.

“He’s always been one to do..whatever he wants.” You say trying not to come off a little bitter at the end. He chuckled softly, knowing what you were trying not to say. “He was an asshole, it's okay to say it.” He mused nudging your arm playfully. You cracked a soft smile, “no comment.”

He smiled and scooted his chair closer to yours. You spent the last few weeks since the ‘bunny’ incident getting closer to Yeonjun. You had a few study sessions together, and texted each other everyday. He was an absolute sweetheart and never made you feel uncomfortable. He was also incredibly shy, the one time his hand accidentally brushed against your thigh he couldn’t even look you in the eye. He was a blushing stuttering mess the rest of the study date. 

“So I was thinking..maybe we could hang out this weekend. How about we go out Friday night?”

Younjun’s cheeks were tinted pink and he was fiddling with his fingers in his lap avoiding looking into your eyes. He was afraid your answer would be no, or even worse you would laugh straight in his face. 

Jungwon scoffed and mumbled something under his breath, his face never leaving his laptop as he overheard the conversation. You mentally reminded yourself to kick him for that later. Jungwon was definitely the protective brother figure in your life, no guy was ever good enough for you according to him. He took care of you after too many loser guys broke your heart, and he didn’t want that happening again. 

“Oh? What would we do?” leaning toward him propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin in the palm of your hand staring at him playfully. “We can keep it classic? Dinner, movie, and see where the night takes us.” He smiled, “but we can do whatever you want. I’d be fine with whatever you decide Bunny.”  

You scooted your chair closer to him and grabbed his fiddling hands the same way you do for Jungwon. You were close enough to smell his cologne and see the cute beauty mark he had under his right eye beneath his glasses, it was making you dizzy. He was so undeniably cute. “Well..”

Professor Jang walked in and started his usual morning greeting. You pulled apart from each other and straightened your chair to put you back facing the front of the classroom.“I get to pick the movie.” you whispered to Junnie keeping your eyes facing to the front of the classroom. You saw the grin spread on his face out of the corner of your eye, “of course bunny.” 

“You shouldn’t be alone with him..” Jungwon whispered as you left class waving bye to Yeonjun. “Why not? Junnie’s a sweetheart, and your bestie is in a dry spell.” You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively. He wrinkled his nose and laughed, “TMI..but seriously. With Ghostface running around killing people, it's not a good idea.” He was shaking his head. “I mean, what if he is the one...”

“Won, don’t finish that sentence. Yeonjun is a sweetheart, he could never do anything like that..” you huff growing slightly annoyed at what he was insinuating. How could he even think that? Yeonjun wouldn’t even step on the flowers outside, much less butcher someone.  He picked up on the shift in your demeanor quickly, he didn’t want to upset you but he doesn’t trust anyone right now, especially with you. 

“I’m sorry babe..I just don’t think it's safe.” He opens the exit door for you letting you walk out first. “I don’t want you mad at me Y/N, it’s just..I couldn’t live without you.” You stop walking at his soft voice and sighed. You wrap your arms around your best friend's waist, “I couldn’t live without you either, Wonnie.”

He rests his chin atop your head and hugs you back. He wasn’t trying to sabotage your potential new relationship, he just didn’t trust your safety in the hands of someone who couldn’t even throw a punch. Jungwon wasn’t a fighter himself but he’s never been afraid to get his knuckles bloody for you. He’s done it four times. 

 “I just want you to be safe.” He whispers in your hairline. You nod understanding his reasoning, you pull away to look up at him, “I’ll take your concerns into consideration Wonnie, but I really like Yeonjun..” He sighed and ruffled your hair, “I know. You have that dopey lovesick grin on your face everytime you see him.”

“I DO NOT!” You very much do. 

Thursday morning was only good for one thing, treating yourself to pastries and lattes before an obnoxiously early history class with Jungwon. Whoever decided to teach history at seven thirty am was a menace. But these early morning meetings with Wonnie at seven am to eat sugary foods and get loaded on caffeine were moments you wouldn’t trade for the world.

When you arrive at the coffee house he’s already sitting at your usual table with his nose buried in his book when you arrive. Your usual latte waiting for you as well as three chocolate chip scones to share. “Good morning sunshine!” He beams as you sit down across from him. “Way too early for all your energy Wonnie..” you grumbled drinking the warm latte. He just smiled knowing this version of you all too well. 

“HE DID IT AGAIN! GHOSTFACE KILLED AGAIN” a loud yell startles you. Looking out the large window, students are running out of the science lab screaming. Panic started filling the coffee house, not knowing what the man that yelled meant, people started to assume Ghostface must be lingering around.

Jungwon stood up quickly and grabbed you by pulling you to him, backing you against the nearest wall, “people are panicking and you could get hurt.” 

He was right, people were running around and knocking into each other to get out of the shop. The small courtyard outside was a mess of students running and crying. Police cars and ambulances were speeding in and the loud sirens only added to the loud chaos. “Do you think he's here..” you asked, watching the scene of chaos unfold in front of you. “I-I don’t know..Let’s get out of here, before it gets worse.”

He wraps his arm around your waist pulling you with him, you both leave the coffee house, “let’s go back to your dorm it's closer.” He’s pulling you tightly against him maneuvering you both around the mass of running students. 

“Y/N!!” 

You snap your head to the familiar voice of your roommate Jen. “Wonnie wait, it’s Jen.” You stop him from walking and point to your roommate running toward you. She stumbles in front of you both, crying as she throws her arms around you. You catch her and look at Won giving him a look signaling you weren’t sure what to do. Jungwon wrapped his other arm around her and moved you both away from the center of the courtyard. He dragged you two behind the coffee house to let her catch her breath. 

She looked at him and cried into his chest, “I saw-I saw the room..there was so mu-much b-blood..who could do this..” she was wailing as Wonnie held her tighter, shushing her softly to try and soothe her. 

“What do you mean..What happened Jen..” You latch onto her side to help comfort her. Jen also had an early class on Thursday, Chemistry. The building everyone was running and screaming out of was the same building your roommate was in.

“The professor found him in the science lab..his throat was slit..they said he was ne-nearly decapitated..and st-stabbed..as if it's not horrible enough to almost decapitate him but to stab him over and over..”She sobbed harder against Jungwon. 

“D-did you see the body Jen..”you asked, rubbing her back. 

“I didn’t see the body..but there was so much blood Y/N..so much of it..it covered the whole room..” Her eyes were frantic and she couldn’t focus, it was as if she was searching for the killer around you three. 

“Do you know who it was?” you ask, brushing the hair stuck to her wet cheeks away from her face. She was quiet and gripped Jungwon’s shirt tighter and tried to ground herself. “Jen?..” Her face was apprehensive and she swallowed hard before grabbing your hand. 

“Yeonjun..” she whispered looking at you knowing the pain it was about to cause you.

Jungwon tenses up and you could see the color leave his face as he looked at you. The tears started to pour out of you before your brain could process what Jen just said. There was a loud ringing in your ears, and it felt like everything around you froze for just a split second. 

Choi Yeonjun..was..dead…?

Your breaths became shallow as you started to sink to the floor unable to hold your weight.

“Whoa, baby breathe..you’re okay. I’m here and you’re safe..breathe baby..” Jungwon gently detached from Jen and caught you in his arms before your knees hit the gravel.

He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, “match my breathing baby, come on. You’ll make yourself vomit if you keep crying like this.”

You hadn’t realized how hard you were sobbing, hiccuping as you struggled to breathe. You just saw Junnie yesterday..and now..now he's gone? Just like that? No goodbye..no final hug..no more comforting smells of his cedarwood cologne..he was dead. Someone murdered him..he must have been so scared..Junnie…

You clung harder to Jungwon, he let you break down in his arms. Your loud wailing hitting straight to his heart, he knew how much you liked Yeonjun, it‘s killing him to see you this way. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you cry this hard before, and it terrifies him. Jen slumped against the wall covering her face with her hands, she couldn’t handle your wails only making her sob harder. 

Jungwon let you both cry for a few more minutes before deciding he needed to get you both away from this mess. Being around here would make it worse, not to mention the large van labeled ‘Coroner’ was just arriving on the scene. He couldn’t let you see Yeonjun get taken away in a body bag. “Come on, let's get you guys back to your dorm. You both need some space away from here.” 

He helped you up and grabbed Jen’s hand and led you away keeping your back turned away from the scene. He supported both of your weights as he walked you to your shared dorm, which thankfully was only half a block away. He watched you struggle to keep your composure for a few minutes before deciding to send Jen ahead to open the room. He lifted you carefully into his arms and carried you the rest of the way back to your room. 

He placed you on your small twin size bed, taking your shoes off and wrapping you in one of your soft blankets. Your sobs died down, but your tears never stopped. You were barely blinking and it scared the fuck out of him. You looked broken. He kissed your forehead. “Take a nap baby, I’ll stay with you..you need to sleep. Your body needs to rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.” He stayed repeating soft words to you, running his fingers through your hair. Your little whines and hiccups dying down as you let the mental exhaustion take over. 

This was a nightmare. 

You heard soft movements and whispers breaking your dream state. Opening your swollen eyes you adjust to your surroundings. You slept the entire day away, seeing the sun starting to set from your window. The reality hitting you again of what happened a few hours prior. This wasn’t a nightmare and Yeonjun really was gone.

You looked around the room and saw Jungwon was packing your duffle bag and Jen was on her side of the room packing a suitcase. “What’s going on?” Your voice is sore and hoarse. You sit up from your bed confused. 

“I can’t..I can’t stay here. I want to see my mom..I need to get away from here for a few days.” Jen whispered, zipping her suitcase shut. She looked at you sadly, she didn’t want to leave you in your state but she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t even take care of herself right now.

You nod understanding, “yeah, you should go.” Even though it pained you. It was selfish of you to want her to stay, you knew she saw the mess of the crime scene and she needed to get far away from this fucking University. 

“I’m not leaving you here alone..you’re staying with me until Jen comes back.” Jungwon smiled softly while packing your favorite sweater. What? You shook your head and frowned. “Won you have roommates, I don’t think they want some girl crashing at their place..”

“Heeseung and Sunghoon are fine with it, I called them while you were sleeping. And you're not some girl, you're my best friend” He cut you off while grabbing your toiletry bag and shoving it in the duffle and zipping it shut. He grabbed your sneakers and sat on the floor at the foot of your bed grabbing your legs to help put your shoes on. 

“I don't want to intrude, Wonnie..”

“You’re not an intrusion, Y/N.” He sighs, tying your shoes tightly. He rests his forehead on your knee and takes a deep breath. “I’m not taking any risks, not with you..you’re not staying here. I’ll throw you over my shoulder if I have to.” He looks up at you and his eyes are glassed over and his bottom lip is quivering. He is trying so hard to keep it together for you, but he’s terrified. 

“Go with him, Y/N..please. It’s not safe here..” Jen sniffled, grabbing her suitcase from the bed. 

You didn’t want to worry either of them unnecessarily. Maybe a change of scenery would be good. You needed space and you needed to heal away from this place. “Are you sure it’s safe?” 

“Y/N,we have an off campus apartment. It's safer than here, baby..” 

“Are you sure they're okay if I stay?”

“Of course, you’re always welcome.” 

“Alright, I’ll go.”

You both walked Jen to her cab, Jungwon insisting on making sure she got into it safely. You hugged her tightly. “Text me when you get there, I love you.” You mumbled into her hair. You were both lucky that housing roomed you two together, you had been inseparable since move-in day. Only having been friends for a few short weeks you had grown to love and care for her. You wanted her safe, and she needed to get out of here.

“I love you too..stay close to Jungwon until I get back.” She whispered and kissed your cheek. She parted from you with a final hand squeeze and got in her cab and shut the door. She rolled down the window, “Keep our girl safe Wonnie.” 

“With my life.” He smiled softly, waving her off. 

You watched her cab drive off and wanted to cry again. A part of you felt like she wouldn’t come back, she packed for way more than a few days. But you couldn’t blame her, you couldn’t imagine what she had seen. You only hoped this wouldn’t be goodbye and you’d be reunited with her eventually. Jungwon grabbed your hand, breaking your thoughts, “come on.”

He tossed your duffle bag into the backseat of his car and opened his passenger door for you, helping you in and even buckling your seatbelt for you. He was treating you like glass, afraid you could break at any moment. You felt like glass, all you needed was one more thing to hit you and you’d break. Maybe you should go home too, but you could never leave Jungwon behind. You were the only family he had, aside from his roommates Heeseung and Sunghoon, and you didn’t know them well.

Jungwon met the two older guys in his computer class the first week of University, all three hitting it off instantly bonding over videogames. They offered their spare room to him after finding out Jungwon was sharing a single dorm room with three guys thanks to a housing mistake.

“It's been a while since you’ve seen Heeseung and Sunghoon. Heeseung is excited, he’s making your favorite for dinner, pasta.” He smiles starting the car. “At least he likes me, Sunghoon hates me..” You murmur leaning your head against the car window. The two times you met him at Jungwon’s apartment he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but near you. 

Sunghoon was polite, but he didn’t smile at you and he seemed tense the entire time, with his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. And any time he did look at you he had this unreadable hard expression on his face, it was unsettling. It made you feel like he didn’t want to be around you which is why you made every excuse to not hang out at Won’s place. 

Heeseung on the other hand was a sweetheart, his big bambi like eyes caught your attention first and he had you laughing all night. His infectious smile and dorky humor had you laughing all night. He was warm and inviting to be around. Also, very affectionate like Jungown, hugging you and ruffling your hair, even kissing your cheek goodnight on the way out. 

“He’s just shy, I promise he likes you. He just has to get to know you better is all” Jungwon smiled pulling out of the campus parking lot. You hummed softly and watched the traffic as Wonnie drove. You felt numb, at first you didn’t pay mind to these killings but now it was close to home..Ghostface took Yeonjun from you. It was personal. 

Thankfully, Jungwon’s apartment was only a twenty minute drive from the dorms. He grabbed your duffle and held your hand as you walked up the steps to the door. It was a cute little complex, Jungwon definitely got lucky to live in a place like this as a first year University student. You walked into their shared apartment and nervously smiled at the two tall boys in the living room playing a random video game on their flat screen.

“Hey Y/N! Welcome!” Heeseung stood up, pausing his game to wrap his arms around you tightly, “it’s been a while!” He was much taller than Jungwon, his body engulfed yours with his hug. It was comforting, something about Heeseung and Jungwon’s hugs felt safe. 

“Thanks for having me…” your eyes land on Sungoon who was sitting on the sofa still, manspreading with his phone in his hand texting. “It’s nice to see you Sunghoon..” you try to break the tension with the quiet boy.  “Hey.” his voice was monotone as he shifted his eyes from his screen to you, but only for a split second. 

“I'm glad you’re here. The University dorms aren't safe right now.” Heeseung sighed, rubbing the sides of your arms soothingly, “I’m um..I’m really sorry to hear about your friend..” 

You tensed and met his worried gaze, tears stinging your waterline. “I have to go to the bathroom..sorry..” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze and walking to Jungwon’s room before they could see you cry. You could hear Jungwon talk to Heeseung before you shut the door. Sitting on his bed you covered your mouth with your hand and cried trying to muffle the sound of your sobs. Fuck, this hurts so bad.

You stay like that for a few minutes trying to calm yourself, you knew Heeseung meant well, but hearing it makes it real. You weren’t ready to deal with it. 

The cell phone you keep in your pocket starts to vibrate, Jen must have made it home. Pulling it out you see the UNKNOWN NUMBER flash on your screen. Maybe it’s Jen? She’s notorious for letting her phone die and was always quick to use whoever's phone that’s around her. It could be her parents phone she’s calling from. 

“Hello? Jen?”

There’s a light static sound followed by a deep distorted chuckle, “hello, Bunny.”

The nickname had Yeonjun’s face flash in your brain before feeling the uncomfortable churn in your stomach. You were shaking, you clutched the phone harder in your hand turning your knuckles white.  

“I-I think you have the wrong number.”

“Oh, Bunny, bunny, bunny. What am I going to do with you?”

You felt all the air leave your lungs and your chest felt like it was caving in. Shaking your head, you hang up the phone and throw it on Jungwon’s dresser. No fucking way. This was not happening. Was that..Ghostface? That couldn’t be Ghostface. No way. 

Replaying the distorted voice saying ‘bunny’ over and over in your head was sending you spiraling. The once sweet nickname rolling off the tongue of the boy you wanted so badly was now being tainted by a monster. Choked sobs racked your body, how many more times could you break down before it was enough to kill you? How would he know that nickname? Nobody but Yeonjun ever called you that..was someone stalking you? Why is this happening? Oh, god..were you..next? 

Panic. 

“Wonnie?! Won?!” you yell sprinting out of the bedroom. Sunghoon watches you from the same spot on the couch with furrowed eyebrows as you frantically search the apartment for your best friend. Heeseung emerges from the kitchen in an apron and a mixing bowl full of salad in hand, “are you okay, Y/N?” 

“Yeah, you look like you’ve seen a ghost..” Sunghoon says, cocking his head to the side with a small humorless smile. Wait..what? 

Jungwon walks into the apartment holding an empty laundry basket, "what's going on?" he asks as he sees your worried expression. He must have been in the laundry room. You run to him and wrap your arms around him tightly making him drop the basket, “please don’t leave me alone..” you softly beg still crying.

“Never baby, what’s wrong?” He asks gently, patting your hair and rubbing your back. You shake your head and bury your face in his neck. He doesn’t push it, he knows you’re vulnerable right now. He assumes your tears are for Yeonjun.

“Dinner is almost ready, Y/N. You should try to eat something and you can sleep, you need it.” Heeseung softly says walking back to check on the food he’s cooking. “He’s right baby, you haven’t eaten all day and your body must be exhausted.” Jungwon whispers kissing your temple. How could you eat? After that? After everything? Do you tell Jungwon about the call? 

“I’m not hungry,” you mumble looking up at him. 

“Oh come on, Y/N. You need to eat something,” Sunghoon’s voice startled you. You looked at him walking toward the kitchen, smirking at you, “you’ll need your strength.” 

A loud vibration disturbs your slumber. You groan and try to ignore it, but it keeps going. You reach over to feel for Jungwon but he’s not in bed. Opening your eyes and squinting at his alarm clock, 2:47 a.m. Looking at his side of the bed, it's empty. Where was he? You fell asleep together..

The loud buzzing catching your attention again, it's your phone on his dresser. It stops only for a few seconds before ringing again. Standing on shaky legs to walk to his dresser and pick it up but it stops ringing again. 7 missed calls. You jump when it starts vibrating again.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

It was obvious whoever this was wasn’t going to let up anytime soon. You weren’t going to be a part of this. You powered the phone off and shoved it in the top drawer. You couldn’t deal with this, you were going back home first thing in the morning. Fuck this school, fuck these shitty detectives that couldn’t find this asshole, just fuck everything. 

A harsh vibration startles you, causing you to jump and yelp. “Fuck!” 

Jungwon’s phone on his nightstand lights up and starts ringing. There’s no fucking way..But panic creeps up your neck. Where is Jungwon? Does Ghostface have Jungwon?...Why else would he call both your phones..

UNKNOWN NUMBER

You take a deep breath, you have to find Jungwon.

“Hello..?”

“Hello, Y/N. I want to play a game.” The voice distorted laughs. Your stomach drops, this is real. 

“I’m hanging up..”

“If you hang up, I’ll slit your precious Jungwon’s throat.”

“W-wonnie?!” Your voice came out shaky. Your worst fears become reality, Ghostface had Jungwon. 

Clutching the cell phone, you try to keep it together. You have to be strong. 

“Wh-where is he?”

You step out of the bedroom into the living room in hopes he's there and this is some cruel prank. But, it’s not. The living room is dark, only the street lights giving a warm orange glow around the quiet home. 

“I want to play a game, dumb baby.”

Your eyes land on Heeseung and Sunghoon’s closed bedroom doors, were they in danger too? Stepping forward to Heeseung’s door you reach out to grab the door knob. “If you touch that door I’ll kill your ‘Wonnie’ right now.” The distorted voice spat, making you freeze in place.

The realization that Ghostface could see you made you panic more. Frantically looking around the dark home for any sign of him. Walking in circles in hopes to see something, anything. “What do you want from me!?” You yell into the phone sobbing.  

“I told you dumb baby, I want to play a game.”

There was no getting out of this, but you had to try. Jungwon wouldn’t abandon you and you wouldn’t abandon him. “F-fine. But..but only if Jungown is safe.”

“He’ll be safe, as long as you win the game.”

“What game?” your voice barely whispers as you stand in the center of the living room. A loud creak from Won’s bedroom catches your breath in your throat.“...it's called catch the dumb baby”

Pure fear and adrenaline courses through your body carrying your feet faster than you could think and you run toward the front door. Throwing it open and screaming, there he was, Ghostface stood hovering over you. In his classic black robe and the famous scream mask covered in dirt and speckles of dried blood. His head was tilted to the side, he had a syringe in hand, he shook his head looking at you.

“Dumb baby, you lose.”

Taking a cautious step back, you bump into a hard figure, turning your head only slightly only to see another Ghostface mask out of your peripheral vision. Standing just as tall as the one blocking the front door. 

Fuck

It all happened so fast, before you could blink or open your mouth to scream for help, the one behind you grabbed you, covering your mouth and pinning your arms to your side with one of his long arms. He maneuvered your face upward harshly exposing your neck to the Ghostface with the syringe. You felt the pin prick in your neck and your body slumped against the one holding you. Whatever they gave you was fast acting and you lost all movement in legs and arms. You slump against the Ghostface holding you, unable to stand on your feet. 

I failed you Wonnie..I’m so sorry.

Your sobs are muffled behind his gloved hand, feeling yourself slowly slip away from reality.

Cold, that’s the first thing you felt. Your limbs feel heavy, mouth dry and head full of eye burning pressure. Everything is blurry and the only thing your vision can make out is the mattress on the floor you’ve been placed on, laid on your side. Realizing you’re also fully nude you try to move your limbs to cover your body and give it some warmth but they’re too heavy to move under whatever sedation they gave you. 

“Our pretty girl is finally awake.” 

Snapping your head to the bottom of the mattress your vision can make out the two figures standing at the edge. Their voices are no longer distorted but the masks are still on. 

“Dumb baby made it too easy,” 

Wait..that voice..He took his mask off first, shaking his hair out of his face. Bambi eyes fully drinking you in. It was terrifying how quickly the doe eyes you trusted narrowed darkly. No signs of innocence, just wild, black, and hungry. Heeseung..Heeseung was Ghostface, he’s the one that drugged you.

Looking at the other Ghostface figure, you already knew who it had to be..He took his mask off, throwing it to the side, a wide smile showing his fangs to you. The first time you had actually seen him smile with his teeth. The smile was anything but friendly. It was deranged and held no humor or comfort behind it. Sunghoon.

“What the fuck..” Your voice cracked and raw, it hurt to talk “Why..I trusted you..Won-wonnie trusted you.”

“Why? God, I hate that fucking question.” Sunghoon snorted, removing the black Ghostface robe off his body, leaving him shirtless and in black denim jeans. He really did, it pissed him off. They all sounded the same when he killed them, why me? What did I do? Why are you doing this? Blah, blah, blah. 

“Does there really have to be a reason why?” Heeseung smiled, nose wrinkling. How could someone that looked as sweet as Heeseung do something like this?

“Stop teasing her Heeseung. We had a good reason to kill each one of those assholes, pretty girl, do you really want all the gory details?” Sunghoon smirked, cocking an eyebrow. You shook your head, you were already on the verge of puking. You didn’t want to know. 

“Are you sure? Because...there was a special one in particular.. we had a really good reason why he had to die.” Heeseung said in a sing song voice. 

Sunghoon dropped his smile and glared at Heeseung, they agreed not to bring him up. Not that he cared about him, or regretted it, he just didn’t want to make this harder than it had to be. Heeseung could feel Sunghoon’s glare on him, he didn’t care. It broke his heart when you agreed to that date, Heeseung spent the whole day crying and screaming when he found out. Really? Choi fucking Yeonjun.

You hurt him, and he wanted to hurt you back. 

Heeseung dropped his body on the mattress and crawled down next to where you were laying and caressed your face gently, “you definitely should have turned down that date with that loser Yeonjun.” Heeseung said in a whisper. Despite the soft voice he used he was boiling in anger at saying that fuckers name. Heeseung took great pleasure in slitting that motherfucker's throat. He never liked getting messy, letting Sunghoon take most of the credit when it came to the murders, but when he heard you were going on a date with Choi fucking Yeonjun he wanted that kill. He craved it. You signed that poor bastard's death warrant when you said yes. Dumb baby. 

God, the way his eyes looked when his blade went into his neck sent him on the most euphoric high he had ever been on. He didn’t mean to cut his neck so deep, but fuck, how dare that motherfucker even think he had the slightest chance to have you. Even watching him bleed out and choke on his blood wasn’t enough, he had to suffer. Driving his blade into his chest over and over until Sunghoon had to physically pull him off of that stupid fucker. 

“You killed him..you killed Yeonjun..” you cried. You were the reason he was dead, it was your fault. “Oh god..Junnie..” You wanted to die, you didn’t deserve to live. You wanted to trade places with Yeonjun, he didn’t deserve that..How could Heeseung do something so vile?

His nickname has Heeseung seeing red. You dumb baby, are you really crying in front of me over him?! He grabbed his knife. “Heeseung,” Sunghoon warned. He wasn’t listening. He pushed your body flat down on the mattress and straddled your waist in a matter of seconds. He held his blade against your neck, the same one he used on him, he was shaking with anger. You had never seen this side of him, the snarl on his face, his eyes wild and black, his honey skin turning red, he was terrifying.  

“What the fuck did you call him?” He pressed the knife harder against your skin, you cried out feeling the blade break skin. He watched his knife tear a thin layer into your skin, blood seeping out. Not enough to cause any major damage, just barely tearing through the first layer of skin. “Do I have to carve my name into your fucking skin so you know who you fucking belong to?!” He was screaming at you only inches from your face. 

“Enough, Heeseung! Get off of her.” Sunghoon grabbed him by the back of his neck, shoving him aside. Heeseung always got a little too emotional when it came to you. Sunghoon had to keep him level headed or else any person who even accidentally looked in your direction would end up dead. 

“Forgive him, pretty girl.” He kneeled next to you, “he’s just protective of you” Sunghood smiled wiping your falling tears. His fingers grazed the line Heeseung made on your throat, coating the tips of them with your blood. He brought them to his lips and licked them clean. He couldn’t resist, his body and soul desired to taste every part of you. The scene makes you want to gag in disgust. 

Heeseung rubbed his temples and sighed, he didn’t mean to scare you. He looked at you apologetically. “Sorry sweetheart..I just don’t like you saying his name. You belong to us…and the thought of any guy touching or looking at what’s mine..makes me insane.” He leaned down to your neck and placed soft kisses on the cut he made. “Seungie will kiss it all better.” He mumbled against your skin. 

You laid there emotionless. Had you missed the signs of their obsession? Did you ever say something that gave them the wrong idea? You barely talked to them, why? Why is this happening?

You were trapped here, Yeonjun was dead because of you and Jungwon is missing because of you. It was all your fault.

“You know, pretty girl, I heard from a little bird that you think I hate you,” Sunghoon mused, twirling pieces of your hair around his fingers. He pushed Heeseung’s face off of your neck and climbed on top of you, caging you with his arms on either side of your face. You looked so scared and helpless underneath him and it was only turning him on even more.

“I don’t hate you, pretty girl, in fact I love you. I love you so much it's scary. I crave you. I want every part of you. I want to fucking break every part of you so we’ll be the only ones you’ll ever need.” 

You just stared up at him as he spoke, you had never seen this side of him before. The stone features he always gave you were replaced by lustful eyes and a giddy smile on his face. “Do you know how hard it was to watch you all this time and not act on all of the things I dreamed about doing to you?”

Heeseung was lying next to you on his side, propping his head on his hand while watching Sunghoon stare down at you. Finally, you were here, they had you right where they wanted you. Everything they did was for you, their girl. “It’s true, we’ve talked about this for so long and now you’re finally here. It’s almost like a dream come true.” Heeseung hummed tracing your delicate facial features with his fingers. 

“Wh-what are you going to do to me..” your broken voice going straight to their cocks. 

“Now that..pretty girl..is a good fucking question.” Sunghoon smiled leaning down rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. Their “affectionate” touches felt anything but sweet. “What are we going to do with her Seung?” his voice condescending. 

Heeseung chuckled softly and placed wet open mouth kisses on your shoulder down your arms, “I don’t even know where to start..but I’m growing impatient here..” Heeseungs’s hips grinded against your bare thigh and you could feel his hardening cock in his sweats. Fuck, he needed to calm down or he was going to cum before they even got to the good part. 

“Me too..our pretty girl has kept us waiting long enough.” Sunghoon smirks and kisses the corner of your mouth. Licking the streaks of wet tears on your cheeks. Reality hits you like lightning and your fight or flight finally kicks in at the realization. They’re going to rape you..

There was no way in hell you could take on two grown men, especially in your state, but you couldn’t go down without somewhat of a fight. You couldn't control your limbs, you could only twitch the tips of your fingers but you could roll your head, maybe that would be enough. Maybe.

You jerk your head as hard as you can toward Sunghoon’s face since he was closest to your head, it wasn’t a lot of force. But your forehead made direct contact with his nose, not enough to break but enough that had a few drops of blood trickle out and land on your cheek, he let out a slight groan from his throat. 

Heeseung scoffed a laugh and shook his head. If you thought he was bad when he was mad..you weren’t ready for Sunghoon, “dumb baby, that was stupid of you.”

Sunghoon wiped the blood from his nose on the back of his hand before making eye contact with you again, his gaze was unreadable which made it more scary. His hand shoots out at you and harshly grabs your neck and squeezes, cutting off your air supply abruptly. He brought your your face closer to his, “I was going to be nice and take it slow with you pretty girl, but you fucked that up..” His voice is low and slow as his demeanor shifted.

You couldn’t breathe and your face was turning red from the lack of oxygen, your choking sounds and wet cheeks only turning Sunghoon on more. Wet gurgling sounds, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You couldn’t even lift your arms to try and pry him off of you. Fuck, he needed to get his cock into you fast. He let your neck go but before you could catch your breath he slapped you, with so much force it jerked your head to the side.

“Hoon, we agreed not her face!” Heeseung scoffed, grabbing your face softly placing soft kisses against the cheek Hoon backhanded you on. Heeseung was all for forceful punishment to keep you in your place, but never on your face. He told Sunghoon that, never your face, any other part of your body was fair game.  

“I didn’t agree to shit Heeseung, if she’s going to act like a fucking brat I’m going to treat her like one.” Sunghoon moved his body up, carefully placing his knees on both sides of your arms hovering over your chest, careful to not drop any of his weight on you. He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them low enough to release his aching cock from its restraint. 

You turned your head to the side in a panic and squeezed your eyes shut refusing to look at him. “Please..please Hee-Heeseung..don’t let him..don’t let him do this..please..” you sobbed. It was clear Sunghoon was the one in charge and Heeseung would be your only chance at a saving grace. If you could, you wanted to reach any remorseful part of him to help you. 

He smiled softly and stroked your stinging cheek turning your head to face him. You opened your eyes hoping to see him take your cries and begs into consideration. “Dumb baby, you were a bad girl. We don’t want to punish you but you’re going to have to learn the rules. And rule one is to be a good girl for us. You were naughty for hitting Hoonie, after everything he’s done to keep you safe. You're going to have to make it up to him.” Kissing your sore cheek he looks up at Sunghoon with his big doe eyes and nods.

Sunghoon grabs a fistful of your hair and jerks your head straight forcing you to look up at him, “I’m going to train you to be a good obedient girl…you bite me, and I’ll slit Jungwon’s throat in front of you.” Bottom lip trembling you nod. They knew you would do anything for Jungwon’s safety, and they were going to use that to their advantage. Letting go of your hair his hand runs down your face softly taking in every beauty mark, eyelash, and the smear of his blood on your cheek. So fucking pretty.

He taps your bottom lip with his thumb, “open.”

Closing your eyes, you refuse to even look at him while he does this, you obey. He leans forward positioning himself over your open mouth, tapping the head of his cock against your tongue. Steadying himself with his right hand he uses his left to guide himself into your mouth. A long strained groan rumbles in his throat, your mouth felt better than he imagined. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He drags the underside of his cock on your tongue slowly before quickly forcing his full length in your mouth. 

He’s careful to not slam his full weight onto your face with each drag of his cock. The amount of spit and precum forced down your throat made you gag around him struggling to breath, but your noises made him fuck your face faster, salty fat tears pooling into your ears. 

He continued to pull out and thrust his aching cock back in, making sharp painful jabs down your throat. The way your mouth gagged and struggled around him only had his orgasm approaching quicker. His pace grew more unsteady and quick as he felt his high approaching. You tried your best to relax your throat around him, but it was too uncomfortable and the way his stomach hit the tip of your nose with each hard thrust only added to your misery. “O-oh fuck,” he grunted and forced himself even deeper into your throat, your nose completely smushed against his stomach blocking all your airways. 

His cum spilled from his cock and down your throat as you struggled not to choke. You swallowed as much as you could in a panic trying to find a way to breathe. Some of it seeped out of the sides of your mouth and down your chin. His body shuddered at the tight contraction of your throat around him, he stilled himself for a few seconds to catch his breath.

He pulled himself out of your mouth slowly, watching the strings of spit and his seed connect his softening cock to you. What a sight for sore eyes, he can’t imagine an even more perfect vision of you as he watched you cough and choke trying to catch your breath. He climbs off of you and lays beside you to really take a minute to admire how perfect you look right now. Your face is red, spit and cum dribbling from your chin, tears still falling. He wanted to burn this image of you in his head forever. He tapped your mouth with his index finger, “open.” 

You open your mouth. Sunghoon smiles, you’re listening. Maybe breaking you in was going to be easier than he thought. Leaning in he licks his cum and your spit from your chin before sticking his tongue in your mouth, making sure every part of your mouth tastes entirely of him. 

“You did good, pretty girl,” He mumbles, “made me feel so fucking good..”pulling away and pecking your lips softly. He smiles and looks at Heeseng on the opposite side of you. “You can reward her.” 

Heeseung smiles brightly and practically jumps on top of you. Immediately latching his mouth to yours, Sunghoon notices you’re not kissing him back and clicks his teeth. “Pretty girl, don’t be rude, Seungie is trying to reward you. Do you want to be punished again? Or should I go grab Jung-”

You don’t let him finish, squeezing your eyes shut you kiss Heeseung back, you need to. You needed to for Jungwon. You can feel Heeseung smile against your puckered lips. Lightly nipping your bottom lip before he slips his tongue inside and gently massages yours. Unlike Sunghoon, Heeseung was softer and took his time exploring your mouth. Not even caring Sunghoon’s cum was just in there he happily slurped everything his tongue swiped. 

You kissed him back like your life depended on it..because it did..Jungwon was your life.. 

He pulls away with a small hum, a string of spit still connecting your mouths together. “I wonder if every part of you tastes as sweet as your mouth..” He kisses your jaw, your neck, your collarbones. His eyes locked onto yours as he moved lower, his face hovering over your left breast. He lightly traces your nipple with the tip of his tongue and smirks at the way your body shivers underneath him and how your back slightly arches off the mattress, Sunghoon catches it too. 

Heeseung smiles at you sweetly before moving even lower. “I’m going to make you feel so good..” He slots himself between your legs and places your legs over his shoulders. He kisses the inside of your thigh, “I love you..so much..” The “loving” act only adds insult to injury in the situation. If he really loved you, he wouldn’t force you to do this. 

Hesseung dragged his tongue along your folds and you squirmed. His eyes fluttered shut and he hummed against your core. The amount of times he's snuck into your dorm and stolen your dirty panties to shove in his mouth while he jerked off couldn’t have prepared him for the real thing. Only a few seconds in and he was already pussy drunk on your taste and smell.

You bit down on your bottom lip hard as he worked slowly through your folds; teasing you as he flicked his tongue across your clit. Your fingers dug into the mattress, your knuckles turning white. You refuse to make a sound..you won’t give them the satisfaction. Heeseung watches you as he takes your clit  into his mouth and sucks hard. The first moan accidentally slips past your lips at the sensation. You couldn’t withhold the pathetic noise you made and you felt shame. Your breath hitched and your eyelids started to flutter as his tongue skillfully worked its way through your folds licking and sucking every crevice before dipping into your hole. He grounds loudly, as he starts to tongue fuck your hole feeling you clench around him. His hips started grinding against the mattress aching for some relief on his cock. 

Sunghoon studies your face, he knows you're holding back. “It feels good doesn't it pretty girl..let him hear more of those pretty sounds.” You glare at him, but you know your body is betraying you. Your face is flushed, legs shaking around his head, stomach caving in every time he hits that special spot. “Let Seungie…” He grabs a handful of Heeseung’s hair and presses him harder against your cunt, “hear you.”

You screw your eyes shut and moan at the newly applied pressure of Heeseung’s nose on your clit. Heeseung’s hooded eyes watch you as you arch and moan out. He pulls away slightly and spits on your pussy, adding more moisture before running the pads of his fingers through your folds making you shudder harder and throw your head back. He collects his spit and your arousal around his pointer and middle finger before shoving both of them inside of you.

“Ah!”

“Stretch her nice and good Seungie..”Sunghoon smiled, leaning down and capturing your lips in another dirty kiss of tongue and teeth. The room filled with the disgusting squelching sounds of your pussy around Heeseungs fingers. Heeseung’s tongue went back to sucking your clit as continued to finger fuck you at a fast relentless pace. He could feel how close you were by the way you were gripping him. You tried to hold it, you tried to move your hips away, he just held your waist down with his free hand and sucked harder. Against your will, it happened, your stomach concaved and you cried out in Sunghoon’s mouth feeling your forced release gush out of you. Sunghoon pulled away from your mouth so he could watch your face when you cum.

So pretty.

The way you sounded was enough to make Heeseung cum in his pants. “Fuck, I need to be inside of you right now..” Loud sobs rack your body, this was it..”do-don’t do this..” Heeseung stripped quickly, not bothering to wipe your arousal off of his face. “Hee-Heeseung, please..please don’t..”

Sunghoon sighed and kissed your forehead, “pretty girl, Seungie let you cum, don’t be rude. Be a good girl and let him cum too..I don’t want to have to kill Jungwon because of you. This is supposed to be a special night.” 

Jungwon. You had to for Jungwon.

“Not-not inside. Don't cum.. Not inside..please..”

He looked at Heeseung, and they shared an unspoken conversation through their eyes. “Okay, pretty girl. Seungie won’t cum inside of you..tonight.”

Heeseung ran his hand up and down his length, lubricating himself with his precum. He placed his thick cock head at your entrance and you whimpered from sensitivity from your orgasm. He pushed into you sharply. You gasped, screwing your eyes shut as he forced himself all the way to his base, allowing no time for you to adjust his large size. 

“Oh my god…” He panted, closing his eyes. His self control is no longer present, he pulled out of you slowly and slammed back in setting a pace. He was thrusting into you just as violently as he had entered you, his pace was unrelenting as he worked into your tight gummy walls. You whined with each jolt of force from his thrusts. Your back arched in pain, fingernails clawing helplessly at the mattress. You could hear the change in his breathing signaling he was nearing his own release. At least he was fast, this would be over soon. 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, of course Heeseung was going to cum already, he didn’t know how to pace himself. But more annoying, he was going to finish before you, treating you like some quick random hookup. He was going to have to talk to him about that later. To Sunghoon, your pleasure came before theirs, unless of course you were being punished. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking on the bud and slipped his hand down to your cunt.

His skillful fingers found your clit and he rubbed the nub tenderly, applying the perfect amount of pressure. The pain from Heeseung’s cock quickly turned into pleasure. Your pained squeaks and whines tuning into soft moans and pants. Heeseung’s hands went to your waist as he held your hips in place rutting against you faster. Your eyes fluttered shut as you started to shake under him, unable to fend off the building orgasm, thanks to Sunghoon. Small grunts escaping his parted lips, the only sound he was capable of making. He was too lost in the feel of your pussy. 

“Cum on Seungie’s cock pretty girl..” Sunghoon smiled, releasing your nipple from his mouth. He rubbed your clit harder causing a loud moan to bubble from you. Your back arched off the mattress as you were suddenly overwhelmed with white hot pleasure, his fingers helping draw forth your second orgasm.

So fucking pretty.

You clenched hard around Heeseung as you came, he snapped his hips forward harshly and a deep whine escaped his lips. He hung his head back and pulled out of you quickly, he hissed wrapping his hand around his red sensitive cock and jerked himself off above you. His cum spurting out of the red tip, strings of his seed coating your stomach, and reaching your breasts. 

His chest rose fast and hard as he collapsed next to you, sweat gathered on his forehead, he smiled softly at you. “Thank you baby..so good..so good for me..” He mumbled kissing your lips in soft little pecks. Sunghoon grabbed one of their discarded Ghostface robes and wiped Heeseung’s cum off of you. “Excuse him, pretty girl, he apparently doesn’t know how to be a gentleman.”

“Fuck you,” Heeseung grumbled. “I couldn’t help it, she’s so tight and warm.” He hummed relishing in the way your sweet little pussy gripped his tongue, fingers, and cock. He wasn’t phased by how quickly he came, he has all the time in the world to learn your body and how to pace himself. All the time in the world. 

You felt disgusting at the way they have your body reacting to their touches. 

Sunghoon discarded the rest of his clothes away and took his position on his knees in between your aching legs. You blinked a few tears away, you already knew he was going to have his turn with you but it didn’t stop the fear. You had to do this. They had Jungwon and you were his only chance at making it out of this alive. 

You made the mistake of looking down at him and let out a shaky breath. He was ready for you; he was fully hard and throbbing, from the way your mouth struggled to accommodate him you knew this was going to hurt. He saw the worried look on your face and cupped your cheek, “it won’t hurt after a while. I’m going to train your little pussy how to take it pretty girl. Hoonie’s going to take care of you.” 

He kissed you tenderly, “I love you.”

He feels your legs twitch around him, and sees your arms twitch at your sides, only meaning the drug will be wearing off soon. He didn’t want you to realize that and start acting out again, he smiled at Heeseung, “Seungie will you hold our girl for me? She’s a little nervous and maybe you can comfort her.” 

Heeseung was more than happy to oblige. He moved to the side of the mattress and sat with his back against the wall. Sunghoon picked your body up and moved you over to Heeseungs awaiting arms. He sits you with your back and head pressed against Heeseung’s firm chest, Heeseung hooks his hands under your knees and spreads your legs open wide for Sunghoon. He bites his bottom lip at the sinful sight of you sprawled out like this waiting for him. Your wet and swollen pussy only looks more appetizing for him when you're being held like this.

“Keep her there Seung,” He smirked watching Heeseung hold you in place for him. He gripped the base of his cock as he moved closer to you. He rubbed the tip along your folds, coating it in your juices. Your body jerks at the sensitivity from your previous two orgasms.

“Be a good girl for Hoonie, he’ll give you a special treat.” Heeseung whispered, kissing the crown of your head. Unless the treat was Jungwon you didn’t care. You wanted this over fast, you prayed he’d be as fast as Heeseung. 

Sunghoon watches you intently as he slides into your tight cunt. A low rumble in his chest feeling you suck him in and tighten. “Fuck....” He bottoms out and it hurts how full you are. More tears spill from your eyes, your mouth dropped in a silent scream. He can see the outline of his cock in your stomach and it fuels his fire.

“Look at that, I'm all the way..” He presses down on the bulge of his cock under your belly button, “in here.” You involuntary moan at the pressure and you clench around him.

He chuckles as he starts to move. Every movement has him deeper inside you. Your walls unwillingly cling to him and you close your eyes not wanting to see him. You want so desperately to mentally check out and forget where you what's happening to you, but you can’t as he brings you back to reality with each burning thrust.

“God, pretty girl, you feel so good..” The sounds of your flesh clapping together, the disgusting sloppy squelching sounds of your pussy only fueling his animalistic desires. He wasn’t gentle with you, each thrust inside of you jerked your entire body and had you sliding up and down on Heeseung’s chest. You were still sore from Heeseung’s assault on you and the pain of Sunghoon’s thick cock ramming into you had your entire pelvic region burning. Whimpering louder each time as he rocked into you.

“Look at me,” He growled. 

You hesitantly open your eyes and look at his sweaty face, he watches you with hooded dark eyes, he has an odd look in his eye. The same one Heeseung sees when Sunghoon has his blade buried in someone. He was gone. 

“Say my name.” 

“W-Wha-”

He slaps you, the action splitting your lip open. You cry out and try to move but Heeseung’s grip on your legs is firm, keeping you open for Sunghoon’s assault. He thrusts into you harder, gripping your hips hard, digging his fingers into your flesh, bruising the skin. “Say my fucking name. NOW!”

“S-Sun-Sungho-hoon..” Blood is dribbling from your wounded lip down your chin.

“Again!”

“Sunghoon!”

“Keep saying it..or else..” He grunts.

Lowering his face to yours he licks the blood from your chin. Watching you shake and write underneath him had his orgasm nearing. He guides your hips up and down on his shaft, impaling you deeper on him with each painful thrust on his thick cock. Groaning at the sight of your creamy essence coating him, he wasn’t going to last long. He gave a particular hard thrust that had you squealing and kicking your legs, a cheshire grin taking over his face.

He found it. 

He keeps hitting that spot with all of his strength and watches the way your eyes cross and roll back helplessly. You’re screaming his name over and over, it was happening again. The band in your belly is ready to snap. “Cum for me..cum for me and I’ll breed you..” He breathes reaching between your bodies and rubbing circles on your clit with the pad of this thumb.

“NO!” you screamed, “you-you said-” 

He laughs breathlessly, throwing his head back. Heeseung gave you the appropriate nickname, you really were just a dumb baby. He rubs your clit harder, “pretty girl, I said Seungie wouldn’t cum in you..I never said I wouldn’t cum inside of you..cum for me..come on baby..let go for us..” 

The tip of his cock hits your spot and you squeak loudly, unable to stop it, throwing your head back on Heeseung’s chest letting your orgasm hit you hard. Your body convulses as you clench around Sunghoon coating the entirety of his cock in your release. He chokes out a moan, thrusting only a few more times before he stills, painting your insides with his thick white cum. Sealing your fate to him, to them. You’re theirs and you weren’t going anywhere. 

Heeseung held your shaking body as you tried to catch your breath. He was whispering sweet praises in your ears and kissing your wet cheeks, “such a good girl for us. So perfect..tell Hoonie thank you for your treat..”

“Th-thank you..Ho-Hoonie..”

Sunghoon smiled widely at the nickname rolling off your tongue, he gently pulled out of your sore cunt and smirked looking at the creamy mess leaking out of your gaping hole, “you’re very welcome pretty girl.” He kissed you tenderly, lightly licking at the remaining blood left on your busted lip.

A few minutes had passed and the post orgasm brain fog was finally clearing and you gasped remembering Jungwon. Lifting your head off of Heeseung’s chest and searching around the dark room panicked. Sunghoon was still kneeling in front of you and Heeseung, he was watching your panicked gaze with an amused smirk. He wasn’t stupid he knew what you remembered.

“Where is he? Wh-where is Jungown? Can I see him..please..” You asked slowly, afraid of the answer. 

A small breathless laugh left Heeseungs lips, Sunghoon moved from his place in front of you and sat next to you and Heeseung. He grabbed your chin forcing you to look to the side of the room at the dark corner. 

“Ah..pretty girl, why don’t you see for yourself.”

The big “finale” was finally being unveiled. He wasn’t lying earlier when he told you he wanted to break so all you would ever need is them. 

What? What was he talking about? Jungwon was here? Squinting your eyes to adjust to the darkness you saw him. Sunghoon smiled widely watching your eyes slowly widen with realization, your mouth dropped open and you screamed. The room was spinning, all the air knocked out of your lungs as you felt the bile rise in your throat as you cried and wailed against Heeseung, but he kept his grip tight on you. 

You wish they would have just killed you, death would have been better than this. 

Jungown sat in a wooden chair smiling in your direction softly, holding a camcorder. His eyes trained on the tiny camcorder screen before finally looking at you. 

“What’s wrong bunny, aren't you happy to see me?”

🦇Every like/comment/reblog gives Jungwon a chocolate covered strawberry!🦇

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[wordsarelife]

—endgame

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: mattheo is absolutely in love with you, but now it seems like he spent a bit too long not telling you that

warnings: cursing, suggestive language

notes: guys this was not supposed to be posted lmaooo!! but i‘ll just leave it here, now that it’s too late anyway 😭

the slytherin boys were lazily slumped over the couches in the common room, casual chattering as the fire burned in front of them.

"and then she asked me to show her how to fly sometime" enzo shrugged as he finished his explanation "i mean she was there when we learned that in first year, so i'm not sure why i would have to show her"

"you oblivious little idiot" blaise slapped a pillow against enzo's head, who let out a whimper at the sudden hit.

"she was flirting with you" draco exclaimed with a roll of his eyes and without even looking up from the newspaper he was reading.

"oh" enzo said dumbfounded.

"she knows that you're crazy about quidditch" theo added.

"yeah" mattheo agreed "she probably wanted to flatter you, telling you how good you are at flying and you didn't even understand that"

"oh" enzo mumbled once again and the regret in his voice made his friends perk up.

draco let the newspaper rest in his lap. "what did you answer?" he asked, quirking a brow.

"the exact same thing i just told you guys" enzo admitted shamefully, which was accompanied by blaise and mattheo loudly groaning.

"you really are an oblivious idiot" draco shook his head in a disappointed manner, before going back to his newspaper.

before enzo could say anything else to defend himself, there were giggles coming from the stairs. blaise and mattheo looked behind the couch simultaneously.

"speaking of oblivious" blaise snorted, before he earned himself a slap from mattheo and a simple hand gesture that told him to get off the couch and find another place to plant his arse.

blaise was barely on his feet, emptying the spot next to mattheo, when pansy and you stepped into the common room.

"hey guys" pansy greeted before she let herself fall in between draco and enzo, half onto draco's lap, which the former only grunted at.

you smiled your usual smile, waving at you friends, before you walked around the couch on which mattheo was sitting. you held up the book you were carrying to him and mattheo immediately got into position.

he turned his body, so that his legs were now resting on the couch before him. he opened them up so you could slip between them, laying your head onto his tummy, as you opened your book and got comfortable.

mattheo softly started moving his fingers through your hair. theo, on the armchair on the left of both of you, raised his eyebrows. even draco lowered his newspaper for a second, to inspect your cuddly position.

"so, y/n" theo said "why don't you tell us something about your date with that seventh year ravenclaw?"

now it was mattheo's turn to furrow his brows. theo looked perfectly innocent, but mattheo recognized a hint of mischief in his blue eyes. blaise giggled into his fist like he had just witnissed the biggest burn and enzo looked between both theo and mattheo, wondering if theo was even allowed to ask that question.

"oh" you smiled awkwardly, as you let your book sink onto your chest. "you mean leslie?"

theo nodded and closely watched mattheo's expression, who's face was full of disdain.

"go on" pansy smiled "you can tell them" she started giggling and you joined her laughter.

it was like a switch had been flipped as both you and pansy recalled the day a week before. you did not leave out one detail, from how the boy had asked you out to how the actual date went.

mattheo was not happy to hear what you had to say (or how pansy couldn't stop mentioning how handsome and attractive leslie was), but he had to admit that it was kind of funny to see theo's face fall more from minute to minute and how much regret was evident on it when you ended the story after half an hour.

it seemed like the only person who enjoyed listening was enzo, who spend most of his time asking about certain things you had said and if you had meant them in a flirting or normal way. mattheo had to admit to himself that it was probably his and the rest of the boys' fault that enzo outstretched the story with his unnecessary questions. it seemed like he wanted to make sure that nothing what happened the day before would repeat itself.

"was that everything you wanted to know?" you asked theo, admittedly a bit amused, as you noticed the panicked look on his face and the quick nod he was giving you.

"why didn't you tell me you had a date?" mattheo asked you and you almost broke your neck as you tried to look at him without sitting up.

"sorry, i didn't think it was that important" you shrugged "and i never thought that you wanted to hear anything about it, but now that i know that you guys are interested in that kind of conversation, we can speak about stuff like that more often"

it was only after pansy and you had excused yourself to go to bed, that there was a debrief happening in mattheo's and theo's room.

mattheo was walking from side to side, as the earlier events replayed themselves in his head.

"pansy and y/n are yappers" blaise noted matter of factly "and now you've actually gotten them to yap even more"

"thank you, theo" draco added sarcastically, while theo just shrugged his shoulders.

"i didn't know it would spiral into that" he excused "i was just trying to get someone to get off of his arse and talk to a certain someone, considering something between the two of them"

"it doesn't help anyone if you're talking in riddles" enzo rolled his eyes, before he got ellbowed by blaise, who pointed at the still walking mattheo. "oh" enzo nodded "you're talking about mattheo and—"

"what kind of name is leslie anyway?" mattheo cried, succesfully shutting enzo up.

"i mean have you seen the guy?" blaise laughed "his name should be the least of your concerns"

"thank you, blaise" mattheo nodded, spotting a sarcastic smile "very helpful actually"

"listen, mate" theo said and all eyes turned to him "i'm not saying you should just be happy about what's happened, but it's a bit your own fault"

"my own fault?" mattheo repeated stunned.

"he's not wrong" draco shrugged "if you had the balls to go and speak to y/n, we wouldn't even be talking about a guy who obviously has a girl's name"

"i mean i get alex, but what is unisex about leslie?" enzo looked between his friends, who all shrugged.

"can we stop mentioning his fucking name, please" mattheo threw up his hands helplessly.

"well, would you rather like to talk about his huge—"

"blaise!" both mattheo and theo called loudly.

blaise raised his arms, spotting a face of innocence "geez, chill i was talking about his arms. i mean the guy is jacked"

"yeah, we get the picture" mattheo rolled his eyes, before he changed the tone of his voice, trying to imitate pansy and you from earlier "he's so good looking and funny and—"

"he's read almost every book y/n has" enzo added and all of the boys looked at him.

"whose side are you on?" theo asked tiredly, rubbing his face and realizing in that second that he was not going to sleep any time soon.

"sorry, pansy's words, not mine"

"okay, well" mattheo exclaimed, his anger subsiding momentarily "what if i'm not that handsome or well-read? i always listen to her talk about her latest book, and i don't just act like i want to hear it, i really do and i could be such a better boyfriend than this lola guy"

"leslie" blaise corrected and immediately received a dirty look from mattheo.

"look, mate" draco interrupted the staring contest between blaise and mattheo. "whatever it is that has been going on between you and y/n, we've all had the pleasure to observe it this past few years. so i'm sure we're all are at a point now where we are just fucking tired. i'm begging you, just do something about this please" draco was more emotional than he had been in years and all his friends were surprised at the sudden concern for mattheo's and y/n's love life "for the love of god, i cannot bear to try and extend any friendly behaviour further than this group, so it would be kind of unfortunate for y/n's boyfriend if he isn't part of it"

"well, aren't you just a ball of sunshine?" theo rolled his eyes.

"it's not easy being nice to all of you" draco send a side-eye in enzo's direction "even harder with certain people"

"hey!" enzo losely protested.

"i don't really care who she dates at this point" draco added "hell, let's give her blaise, at least he's not too restrained to actually do something"

"i'm not restrained" mattheo said with distain evident in his voice.

blaise smiled smugly, completely ignoring his friend. "i would show y/n a good time"

"what the fuck?!" mattheo turned to blaise with a look of betrayal "i'd rather have lucy--"

"leslie"

"--have her before you do" mattheo finished.

"this is really not the point now is it?" enzo asked, with a helpless look in theo's direction.

"enzo's right, as weird as that sounds" theo nodded "you have to do something and you have to do it fast, before she's losing the least bit of liking she seemingly has for you"

"i really have to thank you guys for your deep and honest trust in me and my abilities"

"well you've practically spend the last six years simping for her, so excuse us if we're not quite seeing the end of that yet" draco snorted.

"yeah, fine, whatever" mattheo rolled his eyes "even though all of you were wrong in many things, you're right about y/n, i'll tell her first thing tomorrow"

"tell her what exactly?"

"ehh, that i'm in love with her" mattheo said as if it was obvious.

"a bit rushed isn't it?" enzo asked, exchanging a look with draco, who seemed eagerly as critical.

"what?" mattheo asked helplessly "wasn't that what you all wanted? i mean lilly certainly didn't waste any time"

"leslie" blaise corrected once again "asked her out on a date first. maybe you could really learn something from him. i hear he's quite smart"

"are you gay?" draco suddenly asked and enzo snorted.

"i'm a realist" blaise answered "i like to scout out the competition, see what they've got on me"

"okay, sure, then i'll ask her on a date and tell her that i love her then. is that alright with you?"

"you should at least wait two to three months" draco advised.

"maybe four" enzo added.

"oh, heaven, i'm going to sleep" theo turned around and climbed into his bed.

the next morning, the slytherin boys were sitting in their usual spots at the slytherin table. there had been no sighting of either pansy or you yet, so mattheo had decided to ask you on a date during breakfast.

"what do you think is taking them so long?" he asked draco, while keeping a close eye to the entryway of the great hall.

draco, who was only a second away from answering, was quickly interrupting, when he got nudged by theo, who pointed at something - or rather someone - at the ravenclaw table.

"what?" mattheo turned his head, after draco had not answered and his friends seemed to have noticed something.

"they're already here" draco said softly, before both of his hands, landed on mattheo's shoulders, turning his body in the right direction.

mattheo's eyes found your body quickly. you were sitting next to an unfamiliar boy, pansy across from the both of you. you were engaged in a seemingly friendly conversation, throwing your head back laughing from time to time.

"lydia" mattheo said between clenched teeth his voice close to a growl.

"leslie" blaise corrected, matching the sound and tone of mattheo's voice.

mattheo stood up abruptly and all eyes followed him. "i'm gonna do something about this" he declared, before he started walking into the direction of the ravenclaw table.

"i think he could need some backup" blaise shrugged his shoulders, running after the other boy, before one of the others could protest.

"hey" mattheo greeted when he arrived at the table. pansy furrowed her brows, but you smiled when your eyes fell on him, not noticing the angry tone in his voice.

"hey" leslie smiled. "mattheo, is it?"

"sure" mattheo sat down on the bench next to pansy without so much as another word.

"so, luna" mattheo began.

"ehh, my name is leslie actually" the older boy corrected.

"whatever" mattheo rolled his eyes "nobody cares about that"

"i do" blaise quickly corrected, coming to a halt behind mattheo and outstretching his hand in leslie's direction "blaise zabini, big fan. what kind of book would you recommend to get girls?"

"i'm not sure i understand that question" leslie looked to you in confusion, but you just shook your head. "but, uh many girls like pride and prejudice by jane austen"

"ignore him" mattheo advised "you seem like you have everything in order, so i think it's the right time to ask what your intention's with y/n are"

"excuse me?" leslie asked stunned, while pansy snorted loudly. blaise nodded approvingly and you had your mouth and eyes wide open, not believing what you had just heard.

"well, young man" mattheo patted leslie's shoulder "we've all been your age once, so i don't think the question is too farfetched"

"i'm actually older than you" the ravenclaw looked to you helpingly "sorry, is he your brother or something?"

various different answers of no echoed around the table, followed by disgusted noises as pansy, mattheo, blaise and you answered the question at the same time.

"then why are you even asking that question?"

"well, lane" mattheo started, before he quickly added (successfully preventing someone to correct him) "y/n doesn't have a brother and her father is not here right now, so someone has to look out for her, right?"

"pretty sexist" pansy remarked "these aren't the 1800's, riddle"

mattheo shot pansy a quick glare before refocusing on leslie, determined to make his point. "look, I'm just trying to make sure you're treating her right," he stated, with an edge of jealousy in his voice.

leslie glanced at you, clearly bewildered. "i promise, y/n and i are just friends. we were talking about our shared interest in ancient runes."

"sure, just friends" blaise mumbled so only mattheo could hear.

"shared interest, huh?" mattheo leaned back, trying to appear nonchalant but failing miserably. "is that what you call it these days?"

you couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. "mattheo, relax. leslie's just being friendly."

blaise, sensing the awkward tension, decided to stir the pot a bit more. "yeah, mattheo, maybe you should take some lessons from leslie on how to charm a girl with ancient runes. it's clearly working."

mattheo shot blaise a look that could melt steel. "blaise, could you stop being helpful for once?"

blaise, feigning innocence, raised his arms.

mattheo, deciding he had seen enough, concluded it was time to pull out the big guns. "so have you kissed yet? because i have done that. kissed y/n i mean, not kissed someone in general"

"matty!" you scolded, feeling embarassed by his behaviour.

"no, we haven't actually" leslie shook his head, uncomfortably looking between the people around him.

"well, we've done a lot of things" mattheo continued, easily slipping back into the familiar cockiness he normally wore with pride, even if you had hit his leg under the table more than a few times already. "you should ask her about her first time" he muttered, winking at the older boy.

pansy, who had been drinking, accidentally spit some of her pumpkin juice on her plate and blaise's mouth was wide open.

"mattheo" you shrieked, quickly stubbling onto your feet "could i talk to you for a second? alone"

"whatever you want, love" mattheo winked at leslie once again, before he followed you out of the hall.

"so about ancient runes"

outside of the great hall, mattheo was standing across from you, head down, while you were ripping him a new one.

"what has gotten into you, matty?" you asked when you had finished screaming at him.

"i'm sorry" mattheo said truthfully "i had this great plan of asking you out this morning, but seeing you with him made me so jealous and realize that it's probably too late anyway, but it's my own fault."

"what are you even talking about?" you asked confused.

"i mean you're obviously going on a second date, right?" mattheo asked "you very clearly said how charming and handsome and smart he was"

"that's true, he is all of those things"

"cool" mattheo nodded and you swore you could see a hint of sadness in his eyes "i'm happy for you then"

"yeah seems like it" you giggled, before you shook your head "well, matty you knows, leslie is amazing--"

"i've never heard anyone been complimented so much than i have heard him in the last twenty hours"

"let me finish" you smiled "he's really great, but i'm not interested in him like that"

"you're not?"

you shook your head "i think we could become good friends, but nothing more"

"but why were you sitting with him then?"

"well, he had a book he wanted to lend me" you shrugged "and i was actually on my way back to our table when you interrupted"

"oh"

"yeah, oh" you smiled "if i had known you would take all of this so harshly, i would've told you about me telling leslie i'm not interested yesterday"

"okay, that's embarrassing" mattheo admitted "i should've spoken to you in private, before i made such a scene"

"yeah, you should have" you nodded. "so, are you going to ask me out?"

mattheo grinned at you, before he grabbed your hip, pulling you closer with one fast gesture, connecting your lips.

you pulled him close by the hem of his shirt. your fingers curling into the fabric as you deepened the kiss. his hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pressing you firmly against him. The world around you seemed to blur, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against yours.

his other hand moved up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. the kiss was both passionate and tender, a perfect blend of his usual confidence and a softer side he reserved just for you. you could feel the intensity of his feelings, the months—years, even—of pent-up emotions pouring out in this single, breathtaking moment.

your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel his racing too. it was as if all the teasing, all the uncertainty, had culminated in this moment. his lips were soft yet demanding, and you responded eagerly, your fingers now moving to tangle in his hair.

you both were breathless when you broke the kiss, heavy breathing quickly turning into laughing about how both of you had acted like idiots.

"we should get pansy and blaise and return to the others, right?" you asked and mattheo nodded eagerly.

"but you'll go out with me, yeah?"

"i think we're already past that" you joked, hinting at the years of longing gazes and physical affection between the both of you. "but sure"

you walked back into the hall holding hands, while blaise and pansy were already waiting for you.

"what happened to layla?" mattheo asked, trying to catch sight of the boy on the ravenclaw table.

"leslie—"

"—left, after blaise had gone a bit too far, asking for flirting advice"

"oh god" you hid your face in your hand "i can take you guys nowhere"

"well, you've got enough friends already, haven't you?" mattheo nudged your shoulder, as pansy's eyes fell on your connected hands.

"took you long enough" she smiled, before all of you walked into the direction of the slytherin table.

as you approached, the group noticed your intertwined hands. draco, theo, and enzo exchanged knowing glances.

"finally," theo remarked, leaning back in his seat. "i was starting to think you'd never figure it out“

draco smirked, lowering his newspaper. "i suppose this means i don’t have to pretend to be friendly to more people than absolutely necessary now"

"i think we're all just relieved we don’t have to hear more about leslie and his 'charms'" enzo grinned.

"speaking of which," draco said, looking at you and mattheo, "how did that go?"

"oh, you know“ you replied with a smirk "mattheo decided to mark his territory in the most subtle way possible“

"well, at least he's more direct than other people" theo almost giggled "i just have to imagine enzo recalling and telling holly anything he could remember from our flying classes"

"i'm sorry that i genuinely thought she wanted to know that"

"when these two can get it together, you'll get there too some day" pansy nudged enzo's shoulder and the boy send her a grateful smile.

"who needs enemies when you have friends like this" mattheo laughed with a roll of his eyes.

blaise chuckled, leaning back in his chair. " hey, at least we keep each other entertained"

enzo grinned, shooting a playful glare at blaise. "yeah, and who else would i have to embarrass myself in front of if not for you lot?"

draco raised an eyebrow at that "well, enzo, it's a good thing you have us to keep you humble“

theo nodded, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "exactly. otherwise, you might start thinking you're actually good at flying"

"now this is just unfair, you're telling me she was not only flirting, but lying too?" enzo exclaimed frustrated.

"you can't always have everything" blaise shrugged, taking a look at the vacant spot leslie had left at the ravenclaw table "at least that way there are still girls left for the rest of us"

"you do realize that y/n is not really left anymore, right?" theo ellbowed the other boy.

"well, y/n" blaise smirked "i'm sure mattheo has never even seen a copy of jane austens pride and prejudice, but guess who read it, you're right this lovely—"

"oh hell no" mattheo quickly shook his head, as he clasped a hand over blaise's mouth. "don't you even start, bethany"

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle headcanon #matty riddle #hary potter #slytherin #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin group #pansy parkinson x reader #pansy parkinson #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini #theo x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo riddle fanfiction #marcuslopez #benjamin wadsworth

[sunrenity]

attention ✶ enhypen

s  —  they want your attention on them.

p  bf! enhypen x fem! reader  .  g  fluff, est relationship, comfort  .  wc  562 (0.5k)  .  bookshelf

이희승ㅤ✦ㅤlee heeseung

heeseung notices you deeply engrossed in your phone, a slight frown creasing his forehead. he slides closer, nudging your knee with his own. "hey," he whispers, his voice soft but insistent. when you don't respond, he tugs at your sleeve, leaning in until his face is inches from yours. "what's so interesting over there? don't you want to hang out with me, your boyfriend?" his eyes twinkle with mischief, and you can't help but smile at his playful persistence.

박종성ㅤ✦ㅤpark jay

jay sits across from you, watching as you scribble away in your notebook, oblivious to his presence. he drums his fingers on the table in a rhythmic pattern, but you don't notice. with a sigh, he leans over, doodling a goofy face on the corner of your page. you glance up, a laugh escaping your lips. "really, jay?" he grins, his eyes meeting yours. "just wanted to see that smile. come on, take a break and talk to me."

심재윤ㅤ✦ㅤsim jake

jake plops down next to you on the couch, noticing your attention fixed on a book. he leans his head on your shoulder, letting out a dramatic sigh. "i'm so bored," he murmurs, his voice a soft hum in your ear. you feel the vibration of his words against your skin and glance at him. "jake, i'm reading." he pouts, wrapping an arm around your waist. "but i need attention too. just for a little bit?" his puppy-dog eyes are impossible to resist, and you close your book with a smile.

박성훈ㅤ✦ㅤpark sunghoon

sunghoon watches you from across the room, your concentration fixed on your laptop. he decides to play it cool, picking up his own book and settling beside you. every few minutes, he glances your way, waiting for a sign that you're noticing him. when that doesn't work, he leans in, whispering, "did you know that the human brain is more active at night?" you look up, slightly confused. he grins. "just thought you might find that interesting. but you know what's more interesting? spending time with me."

김선우ㅤ✦ㅤkim sunoo

sunoo sees you hunched over your desk, your focus unbroken. he quietly heads to the kitchen, returning with a plate of your favorite snacks. he stands just out of your line of sight, holding the plate tantalizingly close. "guess what i made," he singsongs, waving a cookie in front of your face. you finally look up, eyes widening in delight. "sunoo! you made these?" he nods, a playful smirk on his lips. "only if you promise to share them with me. deal?"

양정원ㅤ✦ㅤyang jungwon

jungwon watches you from the other end of the sofa, your attention glued to your phone. he scoots closer, his hand gently covering yours. "hey," he says softly, his voice filled with warmth. you look up, surprised. "what's up, jungwon?" he smiles, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your hand. "just wanted to remind you i'm here. let's do something together, okay?"

西村力ㅤ✦ㅤnishimura riki

riki notices you zoned out in front of the tv, a distant look in your eyes. he stands in front of you, blocking your view. "riki, i can't see," you complain, trying to peer around him. he starts making funny faces, contorting his features into exaggerated expressions. you burst out laughing, unable to keep a straight face. "okay, okay, you win. what do you want to do?" he grins, pulling you up from the couch. "anything, as long as it’s with you."

© sunrenity , don't plagiarize, steal or repost my work on any platform !

#엔하이픈 ✧ enhypen #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #⊹ 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 ୨୧ 🌸 ₊˚๑ #enhypen imagines #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fic #enhypen comfort #enhypen drabbles #enhypen blurbs #enha #enha x reader #enha fluff #lee heeseung #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #yang jungwon #nishimura riki #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #riki x reader

[cxffecoupx]

realizing that they're in love with you

seventeen × gn reader fluff, svt being soft for s/o, comfort warnings: mentions of food, alcohol word count: 1.4k author's notes: my first ever requested article. to the anon who sent me this, i love you so much and thank you so so much for sending it in, i hope you like it, and i'm so sorry it took so much time, my brain was smoked for a bit😭 but i absolutely loved writing it. i had to read similar stuff by other svt writers (mainly @emocheol how seventeen realized you were ‘the one’ and @suhnshinehaos the soft italicized 'oh' moment) to get into it. please do check them out too, i love it!!

➼ choi seungcheol

seungcheol had come home late in the evening, tired and exhausted. work was rough, the boys were chaotic, and all he wanted now was some peace and quiet. the moment he sees you at home, however, all his stress just melts away. you're just there, smiling at him, asking about his day, but he already feels so much better. and when you stay up all night, sitting with him and helping him work through his troubles, that's when it hits him. he wants you by his side as his support, forever.

➼ yoon jeonghan

you both were out for dinner with your friends. two hours and 3 glasses of beer in, the chatter had cooled down into private conversations. you were talking to one of your colleagues when you notice jeonghan zoning out in the middle of the gathering. realising he's run out of his social battery, you say your goodbyes and stand up, and drag a drowsy han back to your car. it's not until the next morning that jeonghan understands everything and smiles to himself. a person who deciphers him state of mind? maybe you were his best match after all.

➼ hong jisoo

jisoo had gone to his hometown for some two weeks to spend with his mom. he was so excited for it he didnt even notice how much you hated him leaving you. he had been quite busy during his vacation, meeting friends, spending time with mom, but something kept troubling his mind. something he had no answer for. even the voice calls and facetimes didnt help. then he returns and sees your face among all other blurred people and smiles. he never wants to stay away from you, he realises.

➼ moon junhui

between work and practice, jun hadnt really noticed his birthday approaching. coming home after work one day, a familiar scent welcomes him. he goes to the kitchen to find a pot of simmering hotpot broth and its ingredients sliced and kept aside. with the emotions flooding in with every whiff, he doesnt notice you hugging him from the back while singing a 'happy birthday' softly, and turning him around to kiss a gentle kiss on his forehead. he has no words to say; he only embraces you tight and cries on your shoulder as the members, who had arrived a little after him on your request, watch. he doesnt say anything, his eyes conveying that he's grateful for everything you've done

➼ kwon soonyoung

if you ask his friends, kwon soonyoung was a very weird person. he says he's an introvert (well, his MBTI said that), but he's as extroverted as they get. he pretends to be a tiger most of the times and his behaviour is VERY unpredictable. everyone thought he'd be difficult to tolerate or balance out. but then you came along. now they've got two very weird people to deal with. they had talked to soonyoung how he'd met his match, but he never thought more of it, until he sees you with his friends and sees something of himself in the way you are with them. he'd finally found someone who'd match his weird.

➼ jeon wonwoo

wonwoo's camera roll was full. which only meant one thing: time to save all the pics to his laptop. he inserts the sd card into the computer and opens the file. his face instantly lights up. you had always been shy in front of camera lens. meeting wonwoo was one of the best moments of your life, but it still took time for you to adjust to his captures. that didn't stop him from considering you his muse, the one he's love to click again and again and again. seeing you smiling in the pictures he took warmed his heart. you could be camera shy, but he only ever loved capturing you.

➼ lee jihoon

jihoon is a workaholic through and through. he wouldnt think twice about missing food and sleep if its to get his work done. you'd often complained about him working saturdays too. imagine the surprise his team had when he called in to announce a day off. like, what caused the mighty lee jihoon to take a day off on a saturday?? the answer was at his home, lying between his arms, a sleepy you that had cuddled your way into his arms in the early morning hours. he'd fallen in love watching you be so comfortable with him. you'd convinced him to stay home once in a while.

➼ lee seokmin

company celebrations usually always ended with fireworks. and usually, you watched it with everyone else in the hall. but this time, seokmin arranged for the keys of the roof for you two to have a better and private view of the sparklers. you sneak in with him, giggling and tripping over your own feet in the dark as you reach the roof to see the spectacular show. you walk ahead, mind blown by how much more beautiful it looked from up here. but seokmin had his eyes locked on something else. you. he'd rather admire you than watch the fireworks.

➼ kim mingyu

food was mingyu's love language. he absolutely LOVED cooking food and feeding it to his loved ones. but since after he met you, he realised he especially loved cooking for you. he loved cooking your comfort food for you. he cooked your mom's recipes when he felt that you missed home a little too much. he loved to listen to your comments when he experimented with the ingredients. it's during one such preparation when it dawned on him. he'd love to make food for you for a very long time.

➼ xu minghao

you'd always been mesmerised hearing hao speak chinese. he doesnt use it very much; pretty much only when he's calling his family or sometimes when speaking with junhui, who's also from china. to say chinese was becoming second to him wouldnt be false because he's using so much korean in his daily life. one day, while walking around the house, he hits his toe on the couch and lets out a sharp curse in his mother tongue. you gasp and say "oh my! hao just cursed," and hao quickly turns his head towards you. it's not what you said, it was how you said it that surprised him. you had responded to him in chinese?? you explain to him how you started taking small classes in learning chinese so that he could converse comfortably with you too. you even asked him to help you. hao swore once again, but in his head. someone was ready to go to such lengths for him? he's truly fallen in love with you.

➼ boo seungkwan

seungkwan had begged for you to stay overnight. it was difficult of course, because you both were tired from work. but when he pulls the ultimate puppy eyes, you couldn't really refuse. you went through an elaborate routine of doing skincare and bathing as a way of relaxing, and watching sappy sitcoms until you both fell asleep to the white noise of the tv. seungkwan woke up first, but his breath hitched seeing you asleep next to him. apart from the little snores and a string of drool from the corner of you mouth, you looked so adorable, snuggled in next to him; so tiny, and so so cute. he stayed there, watching you, silently wishing he could see you like this every morning.

➼ chwe hansol

everyone says hansol has a weird sense of humour. it's not that he doesn't make good jokes, it's just that no one reacts in the way he wishes. so when he goes, "why did the bicycle take a nap? because it was two-tiered" and you end up crying of laughter among the dead silence of his friends, he feels a blush creep up his cheeks. someone who laughs at his corny jokes? that has to be the soulmate he never believed in.

➼ lee chan

chan cannot deny that he loves smiling. laughing. chuckling. he loves to be filled with happiness at all times. whether it's through his own jokes, or his friends' crazy antics, he wishes to be happy most of the time. that's how he realises one day that being with you makes him smile automatically. there is absolutely no specific reason. seeing you, talking to you, listening to you talk about anything and everything. no matter what you do, you always manage to bring a smile to his face. he doesnt really understand it though, how it happens. but one thing's for sure. he wishes to remain happy with you always.

#seventeen #svt #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt reactions #svt scenarios #svt fluff #svt ot13 #scoups x reader #jeonghan × reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi × reader #mingyu x reader #the8 x reader #dk x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon x reader #dino × reader #articles.ris

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 FRANCESCA

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: fate will always find a way. {wordcount: 22.1k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: wow guys i can't believe it's over. i won't lie this chapter was an absolute monster to write, i cried and rewrote several times, but i think it came out the way i was hoping. i'll leave some more notes at the bottom so as to not spoil, but i hope you enjoy, it's been such a crazy ride, ily all lots. as always, reblogs appreciated

GENERAL WARNINGS: mcd. dissociation. explicit mentions of past self-harm & suicide attempts. dazai describes his scars as "gross" and "ugly". implications of child abuse. suicide. i believe that's all, if there's any i'm missing, pls let me know, this is a heavy chapter obviously.

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“... You said you have a brother?” 

You look up from where your head is resting on Dazai’s chest, peering at him with furrowed brows. He raises his eyebrows, hoping the curiosity on his face comes across as innocent. In his defense, it mostly is—Dazai only wants to know because he’s wondering if he’s correct in assuming the mentions of your brother were in the present tense because he’s still alive. 

If that’s the case, then that’s another first in this universe, he thinks. As far as Dazai is aware, in every other universe, your brother has been long dead by the time Dazai meets you and if that’s changed, it had to have been because of something Dazai unwittingly did, otherwise what else would’ve led to such a drastic change from the norm.

He doesn’t recall if you ever mentioned anything of significance about your brother in any of the other universes. The most he remembers is that in some, he passed away when you were sixteen and that he was involved with some shady business. You claimed that it was something to do with underground rings but if Dazai’s right in assuming that he is still alive, then Dazai thinks that the underground ring business was a cover for Port Mafia business, because the only thing that so drastically changed in the years your brother would have died was Dazai coming into contact with the Book and upending the Port Mafia’s operations.

“I do,” you say, shifting to prop your chin up on his shoulder, you lean in to brush your lips against his jaw and Dazai’s eyes flutter shut, lifting his hand to caress the small of your back. “We don’t speak anymore.”

God, Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, watching as you lean into his touch. He lifts his shoulders up off the bed to tilt his head down, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. He can feel you smile against his and he swears his heart is in his throat, hand sliding to hold the back of your head as he lets his fall back against the pillows. You settle back against his chest and Dazai cards his fingers through your hair as his mind spins.

It’s been two weeks since the event, and while the upcoming conflict with the House of the Dead and their allies has been eerily quiet, Dazai thinks it might be for the best because things with you have not been quiet. The past two weeks have been tense and strained, once the fog of the night the two of you spent together finally disappeared, the realization of your situation hit you hard. 

It’s been cycle after cycle of you shutting yourself off from him—curling up in the corner of his bedroom and staring out the window before sending yourself into a steep spiral of fear and paranoia. You haven’t dared to leave the headquarters in two weeks, even when Chuuya and Atsushi and half the Black Lizards offer to escort you, too scared to even step out of his apartment and go down to the lower floors. Sometimes you lash out at him, angry and accusatory; other times, you just cry, terrified sobs that rip Dazai’s heart right out of his chest, and he can only hold you until it passes. And it does pass, it always passes, and he gets a day or two with you like this, peaceful and pleasant. He can pretend that the two of you are just a normal couple in love with each other and not have to face reality.

He hasn’t been much better off. Every day that passes, the corners of the pages of the Book edge further into his vision. He knows it’s coming—his face-off against Dostoevsky, the first trial he has to face to ensure you can live in this universe—and he knows he can’t let himself falter even once or make a single mistake. He’s good at putting up a front around the executives—although he’s sure that Chuuya and Kouyou are realizing just how anxious Dazai really is—but he has to keep his hands beneath the table to hide the way his fingers tremble. He thought he would have more time to prepare for this, he doesn’t know why the timeline sped up so much in this life.

He tries to distract himself from the growing fear by keeping his attention focused on you because you need him right now. Desperately. He’s never seen you like this before. And it’s his fault, he knows it. In most of the other universes, you never knew his enemies were hunting you down; and in the ones that you did know, you’d been eased into a life with him already, you’d known what you were getting into. He threw you into this life without any regard for how it might affect you, like tossing someone who doesn’t know how to swim into stormy waters.  

Guilt claws at his throat again, as it always does when his mind drifts to what he’s dragged you into, so he forces his mind back to the conversation at hand. Another welcome distraction from the anxiety, a way to keep his fear at bay—trying to figure out who your brother is, a mystery that he hasn’t solved in any other universe. It’s easier to actively avoid the creeping fear than to face it upfront, especially when he’s not sure he’ll be able to overcome it.

“Why is that?” he finally asks, and then after a moment adds, “... I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, but he can hear the strain in your voice and Dazai understands that it’s entirely not fine, and if your brother does happen to be part of the Port Mafia, Dazai is going to put him through the most excruciating and uncomfortable missions before forcing him back into your life because how dare he make you feel this way. “It’s been like this for like six years now. He cut off contact with me, I don’t know why, he never explained. He still sends me money but I don’t care for any of that, I just want to see him.”

Interesting. Six years ago. When he usually would have died in all of the other universes. Dazai’s mind spins as he tries to narrow it down. So many things happened that year. The Dragon’s Head Conflict, the incident with Verlaine-

The incident with Verlaine.

No.

Dazai shifts a bit and you instantly shoot him a disgruntled look, the apologetic smile he gives you in return is only half-hearted. He ghosts his lips across the top of your head before wrapping an arm tighter around you, fingers rubbing absent circles against your bare skin.

Of all of the events that occurred after Dazai came in contact with the Book, the incident with Verlaine had been the one that changed the most. Dazai had gone out of his way to ensure that the Flags survived the incident so Chuuya would still have people after Dazai finished the final stage of his plan, just like how he made sure to put things in place for Atsushi and Kyouka, Gin, pushing Akutagawa to the Armed Detective Agency. Everything would fall into place after the final stage, everyone could have their mostly happy ending.

Everyone but him.

His mind drifts a bit at the thought of his original plan, the phases that he’d enacted to ensure the preservation of this world—long, happy lives for you and Odasaku. Dragging you into his life shattered that and he still hasn’t figured out how exactly he needs to adjust everything to account for this.

You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow

Your words ring through his head. His eyes slide shut and the reminder of Phase Five flashes before his eyes. He can feel a headache coming on already, his throat swelling with frustration. No. Now’s not the time to focus on this. 

The incident with Verlaine. The Flags. Is it possible…?

It doesn’t necessarily have to be one of the Flags. He’s sure that dozens upon dozens of subordinates managed to live in this universe with the Flags still around, Doc especially, butterfly effect and all, but Dazai can’t help but hesitate, a gut feeling drawing him to them. You didn’t recognize Albatross or Piano Man, obviously it can’t be Lippmann. That only leaves Doc and Iceman. Doc doesn’t have a family, Dazai remembers the man mentioning it offhandedly after he was wrangled down into the infirmary for a checkup a few years ago, but Iceman…

“Nah, Iceman ain’t gonna be around this weekend, his kid sister’s graduating uni. He’s going to the ceremony. Hit me with whatever you needed him for, I’ll get it done.”

Albatross’s words from a year and a half ago echo through Dazai’s head. He fully sits up this time, eyes widening, ignoring the way he jostles you around. You scowl at him and shift into a sitting position yourself but Dazai is already fumbling for his phone. You claim you haven’t seen your brother since you were sixteen, and Dazai supposes that doesn’t entirely fit in with the fact that if his theory is right, Iceman went to your graduation, but he also supposes that the man didn’t necessarily have to make himself known to you to attend your graduation.

What other pieces is he missing?

Dazai should have recognized Iceman in the picture on your wall, shouldn’t he have? 

Not necessarily, he thinks—you and your brother had been young in the picture, no older than ten and fourteen, and Dazai doesn’t even deal personally with Iceman anyway. The man reports to Piano Man, and Piano Man reports to Dazai as the middle-man. He hardly sees Iceman more than once or twice a year, if even that. 

And…

Oh.

Dazai exhales, realizing that Iceman being your brother might explain more things than just some oddities in this universe. His mind races as he tries to mentally flip through the pages of the Book, remembering some of the stranger universes out there. Some are so distinct from this one that there are hardly any similarities to this one—universes where the world is still being torn apart by the Great War, universes where you and he had been born hundreds of years prior during an era of warring feudal lords, universes where the world is entirely flooded and universes where the world has become a wasteland.

But there are other universes so similar to this one, with just a few distinct differences, that Dazai struggles to understand what makes them turn out so outrageously different. Everything is functionally the same until the two of you are thirteen or fourteen, where it’s as if the timeline abruptly branches off into countless routes for no apparent reason. Sometimes, he ends up with Odasaku rather than Mori, but in that same universe, you somehow end up with the Port Mafia. In other universes, he ends up with the government as a member of the Hunting Dogs, you end up with the Port Mafia too in that one. Sometimes you have an ability that manifests, sometimes—like in this universe—you don’t. 

He never understood what causes the timelines to go down these routes when everything else is fundamentally the same. He assumed that he was somehow the root of it: it was a decision that he unwittingly made that caused the abrupt branching off of the timeline, but he was never entirely convinced of it because he couldn’t make sense of how him ending up somewhere other than the Mafia led to you joining the Mafia, or triggering the manifestation of your ability.

It makes a lot more sense if you already have a connection to the Mafia that he was unaware of.

That would leave your brother as the variable affecting where you end up, and whether or not your ability manifests. Not Dazai.

“What’re you doing?” you complain, flopping back onto the bed and tugging at his shirt as he puts together the mystery that’s been plaguing him for almost seven years.

“Gimme a second,” Dazai murmurs, only half-listening as he shoots a text toward Piano Man, telling him to summon Iceman back to headquarters from where he’s been dealing with a slippery target abroad for months, not bothering to wait for a response as he tosses his phone back onto his dresser and returns his attention to you, significantly more pleased than he was moments before.

The best way to test his theory is to drag Iceman back to base and see the man’s reaction to you being here. Is it smart? Maybe not, but Dazai doesn’t really care.

“What’s got you so happy all of a sudden?” you ask, eyes narrowing a bit in suspicion.

Dazai’s lips tilt upward as he leans down, half-rolling on top of you as he ghosts his lips against your forehead, nose, and then your lips before resting his head on your chest. “I’m spending my day with a beautiful woman.” He tilts his face up to kiss your jaw, relishing in the giggle you let out. “Of course, I’m happy.”

“Yeah?” you ask, nuzzling your face into his hair as you wrap your arms around him. Dazai thinks that if he died now, he would die in a state of bliss—tucked away in your arms with no threat of the outside world to weigh over him. You trace over the thin cotton shirt he’s wearing, drawing absent patterns over with the tip of your finger, up his chest to his shoulder, trailing down his arm.

“Mhm,” he agrees, eyes fluttering shut momentarily as he basks in your touch. He glances back down again when he feels your finger brush over the bandages covering his forearms, hesitating for a moment.

He peers up at you through his lashes, watching the curious expression cross your face as you look down at them, not noticing that he’s caught you staring—he knows what you’re thinking, how could he not? He’d known this was going to come sooner or later, that one day you’d wonder what was beneath the rest of the bandages. You’d never looked at him differently for it in any other life, but Dazai can’t help the lump that rises to his throat as he prepares for you to ask.

You don’t.

Instead, your gaze lifts back to his and you lean down to press your lips to his forehead. He hums lightly and tilts his head up, waiting to see if you’ll say something, but you only lift your hand to brush your fingers through his hair.

“Aren’t you going to ask?” he murmurs, eyes sliding shut again as you trace your fingers over his face, drawing along the slope of his nose down to his lips.

“I don’t plan to, no,” you say lightly, smiling as Dazai nips at your finger when you press it against his lips lightly.

“Why not?” he asks, gaze lidded as he looks up at you again. He almost frowns, wondering if you don’t want to see what’s beneath the bandages, but that would be ludicrous and makes him feel a bit insecure, so he waits for your answer instead.

“Because I figure you’ll show me on your own when you’re ready,” you tell him and the lump returns to his throat, bigger this time as he catches sight of the soft expression on your face.

He’ll never get used to it, he thinks again, breathless.

“What if I’m never ready?” Dazai questions quietly, watching your face carefully for a response.

You’re entirely unbothered by the prospect. 

“I hope one day you will be, but if you’re not, that’s okay,” you say as your arms tighten around him, leaning down to bury your face in his hair again—he can feel you smile against the top of his head.

His lips part to respond but no words leave them. Instead, he lets out a sigh and takes one of your hands into his, smoothing his thumb over your palm. “What did I do to deserve you?” he says more to himself than anything else as he lifts your hand to his lips so he can kiss your knuckles.

His eyes flutter shut for a second as he considers what to do, but before he can make a decision, he feels you shifting a bit behind him. He glances back at you, brows furrowing in confusion when he catches the sudden conflict plaguing your expression. He twists around to face you, lifting his hand to cup your cheek, frowning at the downcast look in your eyes as you lean into his touch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you, wondering if he said something wrong but he has a feeling that it’s something running deeper than that. He keeps his voice soft as he searches your eyes for an answer. You don’t respond at first, and Dazai feels significantly more concerned, shifting to his knees to kneel on the bed next to you, tilting your face to make you look at him. “Talk to me.”

“... I have orientation in a few days,” you finally say and Dazai instantly knows what has you suddenly on edge, swallowing thickly. “For school. On Friday. I can’t not go.”

He runs his thumb along your cheekbone, hoping that the small smile on his face does not convey the nerves that eat at him—he doesn’t need to stress you out any more than you already are. A part of him wants to curse himself for being so selfish; none of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to live out your life happily without this weight hanging over you; you were supposed to go to school and graduate, not be so scared to leave the bedroom that you hardly even want to go anymore.

God, the guilt is suffocating; it takes all of Dazai’s self control to keep himself grounded here with you and not lose himself in regret.

“Sounds exciting,” Dazai hums, careful to keep his voice light. “You’ll meet all of your new classmates, you better not forget about me.”

He finds a small victory in the way your eyes turn up slightly at his comment, but it’s only brief, returning back to that downcast expression that makes Dazai feel sick to his stomach. He brushes his lips between your brows before pulling back to look at you again, the tips of his fingers running through your hair.

“I’m scared,” you admit softly, “what if-”

“Don’t be,” Dazai cuts you off, doesn’t even let you finish the what if that’s been haunting his thoughts since he came in contact with the Book all of those years ago. If you voice it out loud, he’s scared that it’ll shatter the dam that’s been holding back all of the fear threatening to consume him. “You have nothing to be scared of. Nothing will happen to you.”

“You can’t promise that,” you say, trying to look away, but he forces you to look at him again. His heart feels like it’s in his throat when he sees the way your eyes have welled with tears, one spilling over to trickle down your cheek—he leans down to kiss it away, trailing his lips up to the corner of your eye before hovering over you.

“I can,” he corrects gently. He tells himself the same thing he told you the night he decided to see you again—he has the knowledge, power, and resources, and Dazai is never as motivated when he has you as an incentive. Already, his mind is racing, making plans to get his own men into the building, trying to figure out what would be the best course of action to maybe have Chuuya pose as another enrolled student so he can keep someone close to you. “I can.”

You don’t look convinced, your bottom lip wobbles as you look up at him doubtfully and Dazai is instantly leaning down to press his against yours. Softly. Gently. It’s an innocent kiss, a plea for you to trust him to protect you because he will protect you.

“Do you trust me?” he asks and then falters instantly, reminded of the argument the two of you had two weeks ago. He amends the question and instead asks, “Do you trust me to keep you safe?”

You stare at him for a moment and for a terrible second, Dazai thinks you might be about to say no, but after what feels like an eternity, you nod, and Dazai lets out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. He has to go talk to Kouyou, and the Black Lizards, and Chuuya. He doesn’t give a fuck if he turns this into the Mafia’s biggest operation since the Dragon’s Head Conflict, if that’s what it takes to keep you safe. 

Dostoevsky won’t win—not this time.

When he comes back to the penthouse after spending nearly the whole day trying to work out plans for your orientation on Friday, he can already tell that you’re teetering off of the edge. Dazai lingers in the door frame for a moment, the corners of his lips turning down and all thoughts of the upcoming operation fizzling away as he lets out a soft puff of air, studying you.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed staring out the window blankly, hands sitting loosely in your lap. You’re still wearing the pajamas he’d left you in this morning, but there are stains on the front of it—he wonders if you tried to cook something but gave up halfway, it would explain the sudden influx of dirty dishes in the sink. 

You look beautiful—you always do, even when you’re littered with stains and half out of it—but you look so fragile that it makes Dazai sick to his stomach. He’s never seen you look so fragile before than he has the past two weeks. You’ve always been willful, the most fearless and headstrong person that Dazai has ever known. Seeing you like this because of him, nonetheless, breaks something in Dazai that he didn’t even know was still capable of being broken.

“I’m back,” he says quietly, so as to not startle you, but you don’t react to his words anyway. 

In fact, you don’t acknowledge his presence or even blink as he brushes his hand against your shoulder before coming to kneel in front of you, eyes searching your face. His throat tightens as he reaches up to cup your cheek and it’s only then that your gaze tracks down to him, but he can tell from the distant look in your eyes that you’re probably not even really seeing him.

“What’d you try to make earlier?” he hums, resting his free hand on your knee, drawing absent circles over your skin.

You stare at him for a moment and when your lips part to respond, he can barely hold back the sigh of relief—if you’re still responsive, maybe he can catch it before you steep down into your spiral, he just has to figure out how. He needs to distract you, obviously, drag you back from the ledge as you’ve done for him—not him—so many times before. 

“… Cupcakes,” you finally tell him softly. “They burned.”

His lips curl upward into a smile, hand sliding up your thigh to grab your hand, lifting it to press a kiss upon your palm. “We can try to make them together later, hm?” he offers. “I’ve never made them before.”

“... Okay,” you respond quietly after a few seconds of silence, and Dazai considers it a win—or, well, he does until you start speaking again: “I don’t think I should go on Friday, Osamu. Maybe I should just unenroll… at least until things calm down, then I can figure it out. I’ll just start later. It’s fine. A lot of people do it.”

Dazai’s eyes slide shut. He holds your hand to his face and rests his forehead against your knuckles—this time he can’t hold back the sigh that slips from his lips. This is his fault, he did this to you. In a world where you’re supposed to be free of the dark, fulfilling all of the dreams you couldn’t because of him in other lives, you’re too scared to even start school, wanting to drop out rather than step outside his penthouse.

God, what has he done?

He drops your hand back to your lap and looks back up to you, hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your head, fingers intertwining with your hair as he looks up at you. Your expression hardly shifts, watching him absently as you wait for a response, but he doesn’t know how to convince you yet so instead he gives you a soft smile that he’s sure doesn’t meet his eyes, but he doesn’t think you notice in your distant state. 

“Come take a bath with me,” he says, half a request, half a plea as he squeezes your thigh gently. “Then we’ll talk, yeah?”

You avert your gaze from his again, but you nod, so Dazai considers it another win. He stands up quickly, helping you to your feet before guiding you into the bathroom. You’d do this for him sometimes in the other universes; when he goes through really bad slumps and can barely bring himself to eat or move, you’ll coax him out of bed and into the bathtub, bringing him a tray of breakfast and letting him rest against your chest as he soaks in the hot water and picks at his food. Sometimes it brings him out of the slumps, sometimes it doesn’t, but it never fails to make him feel less alone so he figures it’s about time he’s able to return the favor to you. 

He hums a familiar jaunty tune as he leans over to get the water running in the tub—hot, you always like the water just a bit less scalding than he usually has it—before turning to you. He crosses the bathroom in three long steps, standing in front of where you’re still leaning against the counter. He cups your cheeks and purposely smushes them so he can lean down and place an obnoxious kiss right upon your squished lips. You don’t look amused by his dramatics, but your eyes are tracking him now—another win. He’s on a roll now, maybe he’ll be able to pull you out of this before it spirals.

“Let me help you get undressed?” he proposes, smiling as he lifts a finger to his cheek and waits for your response. 

“Okay,” you agree—a quicker response than the last ‘okay,’ a good sign. 

Dazai doesn’t waste time as he presses his lips to your forehead, fingers curling around the hem of your soft cotton shirt. He carefully pulls it up above your head, placing it on the counter behind you. You’re not wearing a bra beneath it, so Dazai only lets his hands settle on your hips before he props his chin up on the top of your head.

He lets out a soft breath, eyes tracing the smooth skin of your back in the mirror before he lets them flutter shut. Just as he’s about to kneel down and slip off your shorts and panties so he can get you in the tub, he feels your arms wrap around his waist, and oh. Dazai’s throat tightens as you lean your head against his chest and press your bare body against his clothed one; one of his arms curl around you, large palm splayed against your lower back, while the other cradles the back of your head.

Dazai would do anything for you. Build empires or burn them. He’d gift you the sun and the moon and the stars. He can feel your body trembling against his and he knows that he’d rot in the depths of hell if it meant keeping you safe. There’s no length he wouldn’t go to, no depths he wouldn’t stoop to. His arms tighten around you and he presses his lips back to the top of your head, letting out a shaky breath.

Fyodor Dostoevsky will die. Agatha Christie will die. Both of their organizations will burn. Anyone who’s a threat to you—whether it’s ten bodies or ten thousand, he doesn’t care.

“C’mon,” he says softly, “let’s get you in there.”

He feels you nod against his chest and with much reluctance, his arms drop from where they’re wrapped around you as he kneels in front of you. He kisses your navel as his fingers curl around the hem of your shorts; he pulls them down until they’re loose on the floor around your ankles. When he scoops you into his arms, your eyes widen and he tosses you a playful wink before easing you down into the tub.

Once you’re mostly submerged in the water, you draw your knees to your chest and prop your chin on top of them, staring ahead. Whatever light had managed to return to your eyes fizzles out almost instantly and Dazai bites back a sigh, intent on getting into the tub with you and distracting you from the thoughts plaguing your mind. He slips off his jacket and drops it onto the floor, pulling off his tie haphazardly. He reaches up to unbutton his shirt and-

Oh.

Oh.

Dazai has made a fatal mistake.

His vision tunnels in on the bandages peeking out from the sleeve of his shirt, envisioning the mess of ridged scars that stain the skin beneath them. Slowly, his gaze draws back to you. To the tub. To the water. If he wants to get in with you then-

You don’t seem to notice his sudden predicament, too focused on whatever spot on the wall you’ve been staring at since he set you down, but Dazai thinks that his world might be on the verge of collapse because he loves you, he does, but he doesn’t know if he’s ready to take off the bandages. Not yet. Maybe the fear is irrational, maybe it’s not—you’ve already done things in this universe that you’ve never done in any other, and he’s terrified that when you see the deep, ugly scars that litter his skin, you’ll look at him differently.

Shit.

His eyes slide shut, trying to figure out what to do.

He could leave the bandages on—he could, but they’ll become soggy and loose and they’ll probably slip off anyway, not to mention it’ll irritate his skin. And he’ll feel gross after. And he’s sure you’ll take notice of the fact that he won’t even take the bandages off to take a bath with you. He’s evaded it pretty casually up until now and the conversation yesterday morning, but this would be so glaring that there would be no denying that he’s actively trying to not let you see beneath the bandages. Yes, that is what he’s doing, but he doesn’t need you to be aware of that, though distantly, he notes that you probably are already at this point.

Or he could just… take them off. He’s going to eventually, he knows that; he’s not going to hide his body from you forever, but he thought he’d put it off for as long as possible. But maybe this is for the best—it happening now. Him putting it off for as long as possible is exactly what he tried to do with telling you about his position in the Mafia and that obviously blew up in his face—not only did it not happen on his own terms but it happened in the worst way possible. At least now, he can control the situation.

It is with great reluctance and severe anxiety that he finally starts unbuttoning his shirt. He fumbles a few times, fingers feeling extra clunky, but he pushes through because his comfort doesn’t matter right now, helping you does. He reminds himself of that over and over again. He can hardly even count the number of times that you’ve put aside your own comfort for him in all of the other universes, even in this one; he shouldn’t even hesitate to do the same for you. His shirt hits the floor and Dazai’s heart leaps to his throat, the first plate of his armor shed. His pants are next, and Dazai feels sick with nerves as his fingers brush the pin holding the bandages of his left arm in place.

Just do it.

His fingers work to unfasten the pin—he tells himself that he’s being ridiculous. That this is you. He wears his bandages like armor, a shield to hide himself from the rest of the world, but you’ve always been exempt from the ‘rest of the world.’ You’re you, the woman he’s loved since he laid hands on the Book when he was fifteen, the only person in the world who has accepted him for all of the good and bad and-

“How could I accept any of this?”

Your words from two weeks ago ring through his head and Dazai freezes from where he’s about to unwrap the bandages. Doubt sweeps through him—fear, cold and debilitating because he really doesn’t think he can handle your rejection. Not now, not ever, especially about this.

You won’t reject him, he insists again and forces himself to continue, but instead of looking down at the scars that line his arm, deep and discolored, lumpy to the touch—gross, he thinks again, ugly—he looks at you. You’re still staring ahead, oblivious to his rising anxiety and Dazai uses it as motivation to keep unwinding the bandages, letting them fall to the ground carelessly. 

First, his arms, then the bandages around his calves and thighs, his abdomen and chest, and finally his neck—he grimaces as his fingers graze the rough scar that circles his neck, one of the more prominent ones that mar his body, a reminder of his near-successful attempt at fifteen after he first got his hands on the Book and couldn’t cope with all of the knowledge of the different universes. With the knowledge of Odasaku. With the knowledge of you. He was fifteen. Lonely. In the worst mental state of his life, desperately searching for a reason to live and only finding more and more reasons why he should die. He’d found out he was just as isolated from the world in every other life as he was in this one, just as empty—and that the only people who could fill the gaping hole in his chest died because of him in every other universe. 

He was fifteen. It had been too much.

It’s still too much.

His gaze tracks down to the floor again, a heavy feeling settling over him. He’s second-guessing himself again, he’s feeling guilty again. He’s tired.

He’s so tired.

When he moves forward to join you in the tub, he’s hardly present; his body is moving on autopilot and it’s only when his toes dip into the hot water—a few degrees short of his liking, but the perfect temperature for you—that he’s finally drawn back to reality. He’s already in motion, so he can’t stop himself from joining you in the tub, but he is very hyper-aware now of the scars on his body, making an active effort to not let them brush your skin so as to not draw attention to them.

Luckily, his tub is large enough that you can sit comfortably between his legs without being too squeezed between them, so the deep scars that are littered across his inner thighs are not necessarily pressed against your outer thighs. But… the scars on his chest and abdomen are not as easy to evade, nor are the ones that line his wrists. His fingers brush your shoulder from where he was about to pull you back to lay against him and wrap his arms around you, eyes fluttering shut. 

There’s no way you won’t notice them when you lay back.

The largest scar that mars his body runs from his shoulder to his opposite hip—he doesn’t remember how he obtained it. It was from before he found himself in Mori’s hands, and everything before his time with the Port Mafia is vague and blurry, if not entirely blank. Either way, it’s deep and ridged, discolored. Gross. And there’s no way for you to lay against him without feeling it rough against your skin.

He barely withholds the sigh that nearly escapes his lips, but he forces himself to close his fingers around your shoulder to pull you into him. He reminds himself that your comfort comes before his insecurity, you’ve put your own wellbeing to the side for him so many times before—it should not be so hard for him to do it once for you.

For better or for worse, you don’t react when your back lays flush against his chest. For better because you didn’t have an adverse reaction to feeling the worst of his scars against your bare skin. For worse because he thinks it might only be because you’re still half spiraling into a dissociative state. He presses his lips against your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your body, and instantly he flinches because he realizes that he’s just rubbed the scars on his forearms right against you and that has seemed to catch your attention. For better or for worse.

He’s frozen when he feels you shift against him, head turning down toward where his arm is tucked against you. He’s angled it so that you can’t see them, hidden in the water and against your skin, but you’re undeterred and Dazai can hardly bring himself to breathe when he feels your fingers curl around his wrist, gently easing his arm off of you to cradle it between your hands like it’s something fragile, turning over so you can look at scars that litter his skin.

He can’t see your face. A part of him is glad, still plagued with the terrible fear that you’re going to see the scars and be disgusted, but the larger part of him wants to know, wants to see you, wants to-

His breath hitches when you bring one finger to his skin. Soft, gentle, you trace your finger across the ridged lines. Dazai’s lips part to speak, he has the distinct urge to say something, to explain even though you haven’t spoken a word, but he doesn’t know how to explain the emptiness that has plagued him ever since he was a child, that only became even more exacerbated once he made contact with the Book. He doesn’t know how to explain that he was so desperate to feel something that he resorted to this to distract himself from the void. He doesn’t know how to explain that the only reason he never actually killed himself was because he knew he had to survive to ensure you and Odasaku’s survival in this universe. 

But he doesn’t have to speak, because all of the air in his lungs whooshes right out of them when he feels you lift his arm up out of the water to your face—you brush your lips against the pulse point on his wrist before settling back against him, wrapping his arm back around you and covering his hands with your own. 

Dazai’s cheeks suddenly feel wet—it was a simple action, short and sweet, you didn’t even say anything, and he doesn’t know why it affects him the way it does. He should have expected this, right? You’ve never looked at his scars and found them off-putting, you’ve always accepted him for how he is but-

“How could I accept any of this?”

“No amount of time or charm would have made me accept this easily. Accept you easily.”

Again, your words shatter his thoughts and Dazai has to force himself not to physically react. As if you can sense his distress, you shift in his arms a bit to tilt your head back to ghost your lips against his jawline before settling back against his chest, eyes fluttering shut. His arms tighten around you, heart steadying in pace to match yours. He rests forehead against the top of your head, shivering when he feels you nuzzle your face into his skin, nose brushing the wretched scar that mars his neck.

“Osamu,” you finally say, voice soft. He hums in response, waiting for you to continue. “What I said the night of the event…”

Dazai’s throat spasms. He swallows thickly and tries to play off your words with another soft hum and a brush of his lips against your temple. He’s careful to keep his voice light as he speaks. “You had every right to be upset, I-”

“I… have had a lot of time to think the past two weeks.” You don’t even let him finish his sentence and Dazai is suddenly frozen, no air gets to his lungs as he waits for you to speak. “What I said that night… it doesn’t reflect how I actually feel. I said them in the heat of the moment.”

“… Yeah?” Dazai’s voice is too raspy, too quiet, the vulnerability in the single word is so palpable that it almost makes him want to curl in on himself. Without his bandages, without his masks, he feels as if he’s been stripped bare to his core, his rotted heart laying in your gentle hands, thumping erratically as he awaits your judgment.

“The past few months I’ve spent with you have been the happiest I’ve been since my brother left,” you admit, lacing your fingers with his. “No matter what happens, I wouldn’t give this up for anything. If I could go back in time and redo all of this, I’d still choose to meet you that night at the club, and every time after that.”

He’s grateful that you’re not looking up at him now. He stares ahead at the wall blankly, tears streaming steadily down his cheeks. His chest is warm, breath a bit shaky, and he thinks he might be holding you too tightly but you don’t complain.

“Nothing will happen,” Dazai promises you, voice cracking. “Nothing.”

“I know,” you say quietly, and he can feel the small smile on your lips as you kiss his neck gently, right over his scar. “I trust you.”

“I’m so nervous,” you laugh as you smooth out the dress shirt you’re wearing. Dazai watches as you keep glancing at yourself through the window of the elevator leading down to the first floor. He smiles to himself as he leans against the wall, observing you. “Are you sure I look okay? I don’t even know what the dress code is for this thing, they didn’t say in the email. What if people are just wearing jeans? I’ll look dumb all dressed up.”

“You look beautiful,” Dazai murmurs, lifting his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You worry too much.”

“I’m not the best at making friends,” you say, voice quick and riddled with anxiety. Dazai raises an eyebrow, lips quirking up because he thinks that might be the silliest thing he’s ever heard you say. “I hope I can at least find a few people to talk to. I hate going to events where I don’t know anyone. I wish you could come with me. What if they all hate me?”

Dazai has an answer to that question, but he doesn’t think you’ll like it, so instead he hums softly, fingers brushing your cheek and smiling lightly to himself as you lean into his touch. “I wish I could come with you too. If only to make sure you don’t forget about me when you find yourself surrounded by all your new friends.”

Dazai wishes that he could tell you that you’re worrying over nothing. That in every other universe, you were quite literally the center of your class. Brilliant, beautiful, kind, Dazai sometimes struggled to get you away from people because you always had someone wanting to grab coffee with you. Struggled even more to understand why you wanted him when you could have any man of your choice. But he can’t say that, and he’s definitely not going to be pleased if he suddenly loses all of his time with you to a bunch of undeserving nobodies, so he resigns himself to just making you feel better.

“Dazai Osamu,” you giggle as you turn your attention toward him. “Nothing in this world would ever make me forget you.”

Dazai’s cheeks heat up, lashes fluttering as he averts his gaze from you. You grin at him and hook your arms around his waist, tilting your head up to look at him. He leans down to press his lips against yours, letting out a pleased sigh against your lips when he feels you kiss him back, smiling against him.

You’ve been better the past few days, a bit more excited over starting school, spent all of yesterday trying on new clothes for him to pick out something to wear for today. Dazai, on the other hand, has been a nervous wreck, although he’s been doing his best to ensure you don’t realize that. 

Everything has been put in place—Chuuya should be waiting at the train station already, Albatross will be driving you there, the Black Lizards are going to escort you into Tokyo, and Mishima offered to have his men do sweeps of the streets to scope out for any enemies before your arrival. As long as everything goes according to plan, it’ll be fine. The riskiest part will be the train station with how busy it is, it’ll be easy for you to get separated from your escorts, but so long as Chuuya gets to you, no one will be able to touch you.

“Everything will be fine,” he unintentionally says out loud as he separates his lips from yours to kiss your forehead.

You look up at him, eyes searching his face for something, and he prays you can’t see his growing anxiety. Finally, you say without any doubt, “I know.”

Dazai lets out a soft breath as his eyes slide shut, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his as the elevator comes to a stop at the first floor. He leads you out of the elevator and across the vast lobby, various lower-ranked members still linger around the room, but much less than there usually is considering he’s sent almost all of them out to ensure everything goes according to plan. For a moment, Dazai’s head throbs painfully—there are so many variables. He starts to question his decision of making this such a large operation but he knows that this is the only way. 

He knows Dostoevsky. He knows that he’ll leap onto this opportunity. Keeping this a small, secret operation would do more harm than help when Dazai is sure that Dostoevsky is about to use the full force of the Three Deaths, the Pale Flame and the House of the Dead to make his move. He’d be shooting himself in the foot if he didn’t use all of his available resources to keep you safe.

“Can I ask a silly question?” you suddenly ask, playing with his fingers as the two of you walk across the lobby.

“Ask away,” he says.

“Do you think there are other universes out there?”

Dazai almost laughs, but he refrains. “I do,” he agrees, and then smiles a bit to himself, repeating words spoken to another him by a different you, a joke only he’s privy to. “String theory, multiverse. I think the world’s a lot bigger than just ours.”

“Yeah?” you ask, looking up at him, a soft expression on your face. “Do you think we’re together in all of them?” 

This time Dazai does laugh, squeezing your hand gently when you jolt in surprise, giving him a dirty look. “I’m sure of it,” he says, trying to push away the smile that keeps threatening to rise to his lips. 

Your smile softens at the edges, gaze averting from him, but before he can ask what’s wrong, you ask: “Do you think there’s maybe one where things aren’t so hard?”

Dazai suddenly has no inclination to laugh, smile falling and throat swelling. He doesn’t know how to respond to that, but luckily, he doesn’t have to.

Kouyou and Piano Man are waiting at the entrance of the building, both having remained behind to guard him while most of the Mafia’s other forces are elsewhere. Kouyou doesn’t look pleased, Dazai can see it in the way her brows are furrowed and her lips are tight, but Piano Man still has the same easygoing expression on his face that he always has, gaze focused on you.

“Lippmann told me to pass along his regards,” Piano Man sighs. “He’s been lamenting all morning not being able to be here himself to send you off. The struggles of celebrity life, I suppose.”

You laugh. Dazai can tell from the way your lashes flutter that you’re flustered by the comment. “It’s not a big deal, really. It’s only orientation. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“It’s exciting though,” Piano Man sighs whimsically. “We never have normal things to be excited about around here. It’s only ever bloodbath after bloodbath. It’s a nice change of pace.”

Dazai’s smile tightens and thins, eye twitching at Piano Man’s blase reminder of their occupation, noticing how you cringe a bit. Piano Man catches wind of Dazai’s irritation and his casual smile widens a bit.

“Sorry,” Piano Man hums, sounding not at all sorry and entirely amused. “But honestly, if you think this is bad, wait until your graduation. Iceman didn’t let any of us attend his kid sister’s graduation, we’ve all been dying to see what one’s like. I’m sure Lippmann and Albatross are already plotting out some type of party.”

“I haven’t even started yet,” you complain, but you look a bit giddy and Dazai can’t help but let his gaze linger on your soft smile, one rising to his own lips as he observes you. “It’s so far out. It’s a three year program.”

“I think they plan on making it the grandest event of the year, so it’s never too early to start planning,” Piano Man says easily, tossing you a wink before focusing his gaze on Dazai. “Speaking of Iceman, he’s on the way back now. Should be back in Yokohama in the next hour or so. Are you going to deign us with the reasoning as to why he’s been called back so abruptly?”

“Nope,” Dazai says dismissively, letting go of your hand to press his hand to the small of your back, leading you out of the building and toward the sleek, black car waiting for you.

Albatross instantly is rolling down the window, grinning wildly. “There ya are, doll. C’mon, let’s get out of here. We gotta make it to the train in ten.”

You suddenly look a bit nervous, turning back to look at Dazai as Tachihara steps out of the car and holds the door open for you to slide in the middle seat between him and Hirotsu. Dazai tilts his head, questioning as he lifts his hands to cup your cheeks gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say with a sigh. “I just wish you could come.”

Dazai leans in to kiss your forehead one last time, hands settling on your hips, ignoring all of the gazes of his subordinates watching the two of you. “I know, I do too.”

Dazai thinks that the next six hours are going to be the worst of his life, only able to sit back in the meeting room with Kouyou and Piano Man and watch the CCTV, unable to do anything if something happens to go wrong.

“Stay with Hirotsu and Tachihara,” he finally tells you, voice taking a more serious tone. “They’ll stick with you the whole time. Chuuya is at the station already, went early to scope things out, he’s going to meet you there.”

“Mkay,” you agree, giving him one last long look before making your way into the car.

Tachihara nods deeply at Dazai before entering the car and shutting it behind him. Dazai feels a weight on his chest as soon as you’re out of sight, and he stands there waiting for the car to pull off.

It doesn’t.

After a few moments, the window rolls down, and Dazai watches fondly as you lean over Tachihara to prop yourself outside of it.

“I’ll see you later,” you say, leaning out the window of the car with a soft smile. For the first time in weeks, you look alive. Your eyes are shining, your lips curved upward, and Dazai falls in love with you all over again. The smile on your lips takes a more teasing edge as you push yourself out the window a bit more to grab his tie and drag him closer so you can brush your lips against his and whisper, “I love you.”

Dazai’s eyes shoot open, lips parting to speak but no words leave them, your words leave him caught off guard and dizzy, hardly even registering in his head. You let out a giggle and before he can even think of formulating a response, you let yourself fall back into the car, urging Albatross to start driving already. 

“To think I’d ever see the day that the infamous Demon Prodigy is ever rendered lovesick,” Kouyou hums, fanning herself as she watches Dazai curiously. “You’re actually happy now, aren’t you?” 

“Refreshing, isn’t it?” Piano Man sighs. “Now, we don’t have to worry about being shot in the head if he has a sudden mood swing.”

Dazai looks to the side to give Piano Man a look so withering that it has him instantly giggling to himself.

“Or maybe we do,” he sings, retracting his words. “Come, let’s go back inside. It’s gross out today.”

Piano Man instantly starts making his way back into the building. Dazai sighs as he casts one last long look to where the car is disappearing around the bend in the direction of the train station, gaze lingering before he turns his attention back to Kouyou, who’s still watching him with a contemplative look. Dazai is suddenly reminded of her late lover, who the old boss had killed after Kouyou tried to escape with him, and Dazai wonders if she’s feeling bitter.

As if she can hear his train of thought, she shakes her head and says, “I’m glad you’ve found someone, boy.” Then hesitates before adding, “For all of our sakes, I hope it lasts.”

Dazai doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he frowns and turns to make his way inside, but he doesn’t get more than a few steps before he’s freezing midstep, the sound of a familiar engine roaring down the street in the direction of the main tower reaching his ears. At once, everything tunnels around him, vision blurring and body stiffening. He can’t even bring himself to turn around. Distantly, he hears Kouyou asking him what’s wrong, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

He swears that his bones creak and ache as he physically forces himself to look over his shoulder, unfocused vision falling upon a familiar head of fiery red hair skidding to a stop in front of the building. Chuuya doesn’t even bother to turn his motorcycle off or prop it up, it thuds hard against the ground, metal screeching against the pavement as he rushes toward them.

“Chuuya,” Kouyou asks, as confused and caught off guard as Dazai feels. “What are you-”

“Get him inside,” Chuuya shouts. “Get him inside now.”

“Why are you here?” Dazai speaks the words so quietly that he doesn’t think anybody hears him. He feels Kouyou grab his wrist, Chuuya reaches them and pushes Dazai from behind, but their touches only feel like faint tingles. His chest suddenly feels cold, numbness spreading from his core to his limbs. “Why are you here?”

“Tolstoy just blew up our main port, Dazai,” Chuuya hisses, and just before Dazai’s shoved into the safety of the building, a bullet whizzes past his head, lodging into the sign behind him. Only a graze, but it stings, and Dazai can feel the blood seeping through the bandages of his left eye, sticky and uncomfortable. “This is happening now. I thought I could make it before they left. All cell lines are fucking down. That rat bastard Dostoevsky did something.”

No, Dazai thinks, head twisting to the side to look back toward the road you disappeared down with Albatross, Tachihara and Hirotsu, but before he can even force any words from his lips, he’s pushed into the building, listening as Chuuya gives sharp orders to immediately lock it down.

Dazai shakes his spinning head, body on autopilot as he’s ushered to the elevator and up to the most protected floor of the building. He tells himself to think, that now is not the time for him to start slipping up, for him to freeze. You’re out there—in danger—he has to think, he can’t afford to make a single mistake. 

“You have to go. Chuuya, you’re supposed to be at the station,” Dazai says, finally focusing his attention on the one person who is not supposed to be here. The one person he trusted to protect you. 

“You’ve sent three quarters of our forces out on a protection detail for her. She’ll be fine,” Chuuya spits, eyes wild as he turns to face Dazai. “You’re here in this building alone with a handful of men, Ane-san and Piano Man. You’re the one in danger right now. I told you—your head is mine to take one day. I’m not fuckin’ letting you go off and get yourself killed because you’re hyper-focused on your girl.”

“Get to the train station,” Dazai repeats, voice low and cold and entirely too steady compared to the way his mind is falling apart.

It’s happening.

It’s happening.

He knew this was going to happen. He knew it. He knew this was coming. He knew Dostoevsky would take this opportunity to make his move, that’s why he had everything planned so carefully. That’s why he sent everyone out. That’s why Chuuya was supposed to be with you, because Dazai isn’t Dostoevsky’s target. He never is. You are.

Chuuya ignores him, stepping into the executive meeting room. Dazai’s blood pressure spikes. Fear begins spreading through him, cold and debilitating. The mindkiller. He needs to focus, he can’t let himself freeze up. Not now.

“Chuuya,” Dazai says. “That’s a direct order. Go back to the train station now.”

At that, Chuuya finally turns a furious look into him. “Me not being there isn’t going to make a difference. Me not being here might. You’re all but fucking defenseless and Tolstoy and Nabokov are coming now. We don’t have time to argue about this. Hirotsu and Tachihara, Atsushi and Kyouka, all of the fuckin’ Black Lizards—they’re all with her or at the train station, she’ll be fine.”

If Dazai was any less riddled with fear and rage, he might laugh or maybe even cry, or both—he feels close to hysterics, really—because of course now, of all times, is when Chuuya decides to grow a fucking brain for himself. 

“And if you’re wrong?” Dazai doesn’t even want to speak those words, but Chuuya leaves him no choice. “If she dies because the dog thought himself smarter than the master? What then, Chuuya?”

Chuuya all but snarls at him, taking a step forward, but before he can say anything else, Kouyou clears her throat.

“Boys,” she calls quietly, eyes trained on one of the screens streaming the city’s CCTV feeds

Dazai follows her gaze.

On the top left corner of the wall of screens, one of the live footage is flooded with static—gray, shifting into a deep purple before a familiar symbol flashes onto it. The coldness in his chest spreads so quickly that Dazai almost shivers, dread anchoring his feet to the ground.

Dazai doesn’t have to look at the screen to know what’s coming next. 

Oda Sakunosuke is a patient man.

He is. He really is. It’s just that Ranpo Edogawa enjoys testing the boundaries of said patience. He bites back another sigh, watching as the man—man, he questions—complains loudly about an ‘entitled mother’ who had the nerve to ask for his candy to calm her upset child down. Oda has half a mind to step away out of embarrassment, acutely aware of all of the eyes on them, but he knows that if he steps away even for a second, Ranpo is going to find himself lost and then Oda is going to have to track him down again.

Oda sighs, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he tilts his head up to look at the ceiling, listening to the announcements over the loudspeaker, signaling the arrival of the next train. Two minutes until it pulls into the station, an hour to get to Tokyo—gives him plenty of time to go back over the files for the mission. Should be a quick in-and-out case, probably won’t even have to stay the night in the city; a string of ability-user murders in Tokyo that have the TMPD in shambles trying to figure out, so they reached out to the Agency to come take care of it.

Oda doubts it’ll take more than half a minute for Ranpo to put the pieces together once given the known evidence by the TMPD, but the issue will be actually getting the ability user in custody. From what Ranpo theorizes, he has some type of invisibility ability that makes him slippery. 

With Oda there, it’ll be an easy grab—with his ability, speed and reflexes, few people can outmaneuver him—but it’s just a matter of when he decides to show himself.

Oda frowns when he notices that Ranpo suddenly stopped rambling, gaze cutting to make sure that he didn’t wander off again, but he’s hardly able to turn his head halfway to the side before his ability is activated. Everything blurs out around him, watching as a girl a few years younger than him—panicked and not looking where she’s going—crashes right into Oda while he’s already off-balanced reaching for Ranpo, sending the both of them hurdling over the edge of the platform and into the tracks just as the bullet train comes barreling into the station.

Oda’s jaw tightens as he’s flung back into reality, surroundings reappearing. His head snaps over to where the girl had appeared from and he catches sight of you just as you’re about to throw yourself out of the crowd, eyes wild and anxious. He watches you trip, hands darting out to steady you before you crash into him; you look up at him, eyes wide and a bit starstruck, lips parting to speak but no words leave them.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice a low monotone as he helps you stand back up straight on your own feet. His head tilts to the side curiously as he watches the way you stand a bit closer to him, eyes peering around as if you’re reaching for someone. “Hm?”

“Oh!” you suddenly say, looking up at him with a wobbly smile. “I’m sorry. Sorry. That was so rude of me. I… got separated from my friends. It’s really busy today, isn’t it? It’s not usually so busy.”

Oda hums, looking around curiously. It is a bit busier than it usually is—Friday trains are usually busy, but midday like this, people are usually at work. The late night trains are the ones typically packed and impossible to get on, people leaving from work and traveling for the weekend. Today’s not a holiday either, as far as he’s aware.

“It is, isn’t it?” Oda says, scanning the crowd once more before letting his gaze settle back on you. “You look rattled, is everything okay?”

Your smile wavers at the edges, and Oda frowns, eyes trailing over to Ranpo, who’s already frowning, green eyes squinted and trained on you.

“I’m just… not used to traveling alone! I’m nervous,” you answer, a blatant lie, but you don’t seem like a threat. In fact, you seem more scared than anything else. “I want to find my friends.”

“Is someone bothering you?” Oda asks carefully.

You hesitate, smile straining. Your eyes flicker around again, seeking someone out and Oda can see the despair in them when you don’t find whoever you’re looking for. 

“I’m okay,” you say finally, nodding. “I’m trying to get to Tokyo. I have orientation today for grad school. I don’t like traveling alone.”

Oda tilts his head to the side, he takes a step closer to Ranpo than you as an experiment, watching as you immediately match his step, sticking close to him as you continue seeking out your ‘friends.’ You don’t seem like a threat, and his ability has yet to be triggered, but it wouldn’t be the first time underground organizations use civilians as decoys to set up traps for the Agency. He spares another look at Ranpo, knowing the man must’ve figured out whatever is going on, only to find him staring at you with a tight jaw and an uneasy expression.

“What school are you attending?” Oda asks in an attempt to calm your nerves and hopefully get some answers out of you. 

You look at him, a bit more clarity in your eyes and smile more steady as you say. “Waseda,” you say, brighter now, more relaxed. “Their school of political science.”

“You tryna go into politics?” Oda asks curiously.

You nod. “One day, hopefully,” you say with an easy smile before giving him your name. “What’s your name?”

“Oda Sakunosuke,” he greets. “Nice to meet you.”

“You’re heading to Tokyo too?” you ask curiously, and Oda doesn’t sense any ill intent behind the question so he answers.

“Yes,” he says. “Going there for work.” 

“Oh? What do you do for work?”

Oda pauses for a moment, choosing his words carefully on the off-chance this is some sort of setup, before saying: “I’m trying to write a novel.”

You light up. “Really?” you ask, delighted. “That’s so impressive, what about?”

“… Humans. The human experience,” Oda answers, glancing back at Ranpo again with furrowed brows, but the man hardly budges, gaze pinned on you.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, the smile on your lips becomes a bit teasing. Oda finds his own lips twitching up in amusement. “What’s your take on the human experience then, Oda Sakunosuke? Will your story have a happy ending?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” he tells you honestly, and then tilts his head to the side and asks curiously, “How would you end it?”

You click your tongue as if to chide him. “Shame on you, Oda Sakunosuke, trying to poach ideas from broke grad students,” you say, voice taking a dramatic lilt, but there’s a light to your eyes that hadn’t been there before, so Oda thinks his plan at least partially worked.

“Almost grad students,” Oda corrects, matching your tone as he lets his eyes drift around again, trying to pinpoint what exactly had you so frightened before running into him. “Take pity on an old man plagued with writer’s block, won’t you?”

“I suppose I can grace you with my boundless wisdom,” you quip, and Oda snorts to himself, eyes drifting back down to you as you grin up at him. After a few moments, your smile falls a bit. “I think a happy ending is nice to imagine… We like to indulge in such fantasies because real life is never so easy. I think if you’re going for an accurate telling of the human experience, a bittersweet ending would be more realistic.”

“Bittersweet?” Oda questions.

“Bittersweet,” you agree. “I think many people die content, or even happy… I don’t think many people die without regrets. So, I think a story on an accurate telling of the human experience should have a bittersweet ending to reflect that.”

“Hm,” Oda hums, considering you in a new light now, the way your eyes are a bit sadder, the smile on your lips soft on the edges. He finds himself far more into this conversation than he expected to be, so absorbed that he hardly even realized that the train has finally pulled into the station. “What about you, then? Do you think you’ll die with regrets?”

“Who’s to say?” You shrug with another bright smile. “I think if I were to die right now, I’d die with one regret. But I’d be happy.”

“Only one?”

“Only one,” you confirm. “I… wish I’d met someone sooner. That’s all. What about you, Oda Sakunosuke? If you died right now, would you die with regrets?”

“Countless,” Oda says quietly. “... But I think I would also be happy.”

“See.” You wink. “Bittersweet.”

Oda’s lips flicker up into a ghost of a smile, lips parting to speak, but suddenly someone is calling your name frantically, loudly from across the train platform. You light up, head twisting in that direction and Oda follows your gaze to where a young man with short orange hair is waving his hand, perched up on a garbage can, looking around for you.

“That’s one of my friends,” you say, looking relieved. “I’m going to head over to him. It was nice meeting you, Oda Sakunosuke.”

“Nice meeting you too,” he replies.

You toss him another wide smile before turning to leave, but before you can even take the first step, Ranpo finally moves, fingers curling around your wrist to stop you in place. Oda looks down at him, alarmed, and you look back, surprised.

“You should… be careful,” Ranpo tells you, more serious than Oda has ever seen him before, and Oda feels a sinking feeling in his gut as Ranpo lets go of your wrist.

You look a bit disturbed, but you nod. “I-I will. Thank you.”

“What was that?” Oda asks, voice low and concerned as he looks down at Ranpo, whose brows are still furrowed. He still looks uncertain, and Oda doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ranpo Edogawa uncertain before.

Dread weighs heavily on Oda’s chest, his gaze turns back to where you’ve started to quickly make your way across the platform along the yellow line in the direction of your friend, who has finally caught sight of you and is rushing toward you, looking too panicked for someone who’d just found someone they lost.

“Something is wrong,” Oda murmurs more to himself than Ranpo, and at once, he activates his ability.

The world slows and grays out around him, but his gaze remains focused on you. He watches. 

One second passes, you take another step forward, your friend is still too far away. 

Another second passes, another step forward. 

A third second, and something is shimmering right next to you, a gold circle to your left, swirling with patterns—an ability.

A fourth second passes, and you turn, eyes wide and fear painted on your face as a gloved hand darts from the circle and wraps around your wrist; your friend reaches down to his waistband, revealing the gun strapped to his side. 

A fifth second passes, and you’re gone. 

His ability fades away, leaving him back reeling in reality, ready to act on what he’d seen. He rushes forward, heart racing in his chest, and he can hear Ranpo giving chase after him.

One second passes—you’re still too far away, you’ve made it across half of the platform already, Oda knows he won’t get to you in time, but he tries anyway.

Another second passes—Ranpo is yelling for him, Oda ignores him. 

A third second passes—the swirling gold circle appears to your left, and Oda knows that it’s too late.

Oda Sakunosuke is fast, but this time, he is not fast enough.

Chuuya knows that this is his fault.

The sickening scene taking place on the screens set up in the executive meeting room has his stomach turning inside out. He has to manually force himself to breathe, slow and steady, because if he doesn’t, he won’t get any air to his lungs. Next to him, Kouyou stands stiffly, gaze trained on the damning video and on his other side, Piano Man looks resigned, head turned to the side, attention focused on the blacked out windows looking over the city. 

Chuuya can’t see Dazai’s expression from where he’s standing, and he’s glad for it. 

You’re sitting at a table with Dostoevsky. It’s a small, square table in an equally small, unassuming room. Tiled walls, a thick steel door, no windows—it’s an abandoned office room down in the lower floors of the metro, emptied out besides the table, two seats, and you and Dostoevsky.

A small room. Unassuming. Enclosed and suffocatingly confined. Cold and damp. There is no sun, no warmth, and no life.

Not a place where anyone should die, much less someone as bright as you.

“Ah, there we go!” Dostoevsky smiles as if this is all some big game to him and Chuuya’s temper spikes, blood simmering in his veins and eye twitching as he glares at the Russian. “The cameras should now be connected.”

Chuuya did not hold you in high regard for a long time. He thought you were a pretty face, but more than that, you were a distraction. You showed up one day and suddenly Dazai couldn’t focus on anything but you. He evaded important meetings, and the ones that he attended were spent either zoning out or tapping away at his phone talking to you. It left Chuuya as the one to pick up the slack, so yeah, he certainly did not hold you in high regard, and he’s not entirely sure when it began to change.

Or, maybe that’s a lie.

He thinks back to the day he ran into you coming out of the elevator, when you dragged him around half of the city looking for a very particular brand of white chocolate for whatever sugary concoction you wanted to make Dazai; and the way you pouted and begged and pleaded with him to try some when you make it for Dazai to the point that he wanted to agree, if Dazai wouldn’t have tried to blow his head off for intruding on his time with you. 

He thinks that’s when his view on you started to shift, because it’s not often that Chuuya is treated like an actual human being, a twenty-two year old with a love for fine wine and music, instead of the mafia executive he is, a weapon of war that can bring down nations. As irritated as he was having to take time out of his day to babysit Dazai’s new plaything, he found you made for good conversation and that it was nice talking about things other than missions, politics and violence. 

You like talking about music with him and you ramble a lot about conspiracy theories and history—he thinks he’s learned more about the classical era of Europe and the Sengoku period the past few weeks joining you on outings than he’s learned in his entire life. Chuuya thinks you might be the first real friend he’s made since the Flags. You have more life in you than anyone Chuuya has ever met before, and Chuuya thinks it’s fucking sick that you’ll be drained of it by the likes of a soulless bastard like Dostoevsky. 

Chuuya also thinks, again, that this is entirely his fault.

“I had a nice talk with your lover, Dazai,” Dostoevsky says with a facetious smile. “She’s quite enchanting. It’s a shame that she ended up with the likes of you.”

Chuuya thought he’d be able to make it in time. He really thought he did. He thought he’d be fast enough to get back before you took off with Albatross, Tachihara and Hirotsu; he thought he’d be able to drag you with him and Dazai, lock the two of you up in the most well-protected room in the headquarters to wait out the assault of Dostoevsky’s tripartite alliance; he can still hear the gunfire now as they bombard the lower floors of the building. Chuuya should be down there helping his subordinates but he can’t bring himself to move, staring at what his decision had caused with a heavy heart and more guilt than his mind can come to terms with. It was never his intention to leave you out there to die. 

He wouldn’t do that to you.

He wouldn’t do that to Dazai. No matter how much he can’t stand the asshole, he wouldn’t fucking do that.

“I have offered a deal to her, Dazai,” Dostoevsky muses, head tilted to the side as he looks up at the camera in the corner of the room, thin fingers wrapped neatly around your wrist. “A fair exchange. But I leave it in her hands, not yours. Either way, I will get what I want.”

How the hell does that work? 

Chuuya lets out a shaky breath, gaze flickering over to Kouyou, who stares at the screen with a tight expression, brows drawn together and lips cut downward. He can hardly bring himself to look at Dazai, but he forces himself to shift to the side, looking down to where Dazai is sitting in front of the wall of screens, eyes trained on where you’re sitting with Dostoevsky.

Dazai’s expression is eerily blank, more so than Chuuya has ever seen it before. It makes his throat swell, the air to his lungs catching in his windpipe. He’s seen Dazai distraught before—the night on the roof years ago when he was drunk and screaming at Chuuya to just let him jump. He’s seen Dazai upset before—a few months after his sixteenth birthday, before the Dragon’s Head Conflict commenced, when he returned to headquarters with an expression so haunted that Chuuya didn’t dare utter a single snarky word to him.

He’s never seen him like this before. Visible eye entirely void of life as if whatever part of him that had been reanimated by your arrival in his life has been killed off. As if he knows exactly what’s about to happen, as if he knows there’s no stopping it. But Chuuya can see the way the corner of Dazai is pinched, the way his face, while blank, is hard, and Chuuya knows Dazai well enough to know exactly what that means: that if there’s any chance of preventing this, Dazai is going to do whatever it takes.

“Fair exchange is a funny way of saying I’ll die either way,” you say softly. Your voice is bitter; you’re not looking at Dostoevsky or the camera, instead your gaze is set on the wall next to you, an unreadable expression on your face. 

Dostoevsky turns his attention back to you, eyes curious. “I am no liar, I gave you my word that you’ll leave this room alive, myshka,” Dostoevsky hums, lips curved up into an entertained smile. Chuuya’s eye twitches at the pet name. “Go on and tell Dazai what I ask for in exchange… I am quite curious to see how far he’s willing to go for you.”

How far? 

Even Chuuya knows the answer to that, and from the expression on Dostoevsky’s face, he must know the answer too.

Ah, Chuuya realizes, his own question now answered. How does that work? Dostoevsky tells you the deal, and you have to make the decision of whether or not to tell Dazai. If you tell Dazai, there’s no lengths he wouldn’t go to fulfill Dostoevsky’s demands if it means saving you. And Chuuya suddenly understands why Kouyou looks so grave, because there’s only one thing Dostoevsky wants: Yokohama and the Port Mafia out of his way. Dazai out of the way. 

Dazai would hand it all to him on a silver platter if it meant saving your life. Yokohama. The Port Mafia. He’d let Dostoevsky put a bullet through his head if it meant you’d get to live.

“Dazai,” Kouyou begins, and her voice wavers. Chuuya doesn’t think he’s ever heard Kouyou’s voice waver in the seven years he’s known her. “You cannot-”

Kouyou doesn’t finish her sentence. Doesn’t need to. They all know what she’s going to say, and Chuuya doubts that Dazai is listening anyway. He looks at Kouyou from the corner of his eye and she meets his gaze, a heavy expression on her face.

“You gave me your word that I’d leave this room alive. What happens when I step outside?” you ask with a sigh, looking back over to meet Dostoevsky’s eyes. “You’ll get what you want from Dazai and kill me anyway.”

You look tired and Chuuya’s stomach weighs down with guilt again. God, what the fuck has he done? You were on your way to your fucking grad school orientation and Chuuya signed your goddamn death warrant. You had so much ahead of you. You never belonged in this shitty world, and an instinctual part of Chuuya wants to curse Dazai for it, for dragging you into this and putting you into this situation.

But even as the thought crosses his mind, he tosses it away, because how the fuck is he supposed to condemn Dazai for clinging to the only damn thing that makes him happy as if Chuuya doesn’t do the same? His gaze turns back down to Dazai, frowning when he sees that he’s no longer staring at the screen intently. He’s leaned back in his chair, still looking at the screen but his eyes are glazed over, as if he’s not fully present.

As if he’s given up.

“So meticulous,” Dostoevsky murmurs, he reaches to brush his knuckles against your cheek. The noise that Chuuya lets out is close to a snarl when he sees the way your lips tighten in disgust as you turn your face away from him only for him to pinch your chin between his fingers to force you to look at him. He glances down at Dazai, only to find that he’s hardly even reacted to what’s happening. “You are very intelligent… I would have loved to have a woman like you at my side.”

“People like you are fated to be alone, Fyodor Dostoevsky,” you reply, lips curved down as you stare at him. “What a terrible fate. I’d always prefer a short and fulfilling life than a long and solitary one.”

Your gaze draws back up to the camera as if you’re desperately trying to convey something to Dazai: I don’t regret this. If I had the choice, I’d do it all the same.

Chuuya doesn’t even think Dazai can understand it in the state he’s in.

Chuuya’s stomach twists and turns, he has to take a step away, breathing in a shuddered breath as he pulls his hat off to run his fingers through his hair. He presses his hand to his face, trying to calm himself down, but his ears are ringing and the black coffee he’d downed before heading over to the train station is threatening to come right up his throat.

And if you’re wrong? 

Dostoevsky’s hand drops from your face, but his other remains wrapped around your wrist. He smiles as if telling a joke that only he understands. “Maybe in another universe you and I can work together.”

Dazai jolts at the words and Chuuya looks at him again, watching the way he draws in a sharp, shuddered breath. Chuuya’s lips part. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to speak or force himself to breathe, but his eyes land on Dazai just as the man finally breaks.

If she dies because the dog thought himself smarter than the master?

It’s brief. His expression crumbles and he quietly wheezes for air, hand flying to his chest as if trying to claw his own heart out, as if his brain has only finally registered what was happening. Kouyou and Piano Man are too focused on you and Dostoevsky to notice, but Chuuya thinks if he stares any longer at the screen, he might fall apart. His expression smooths out again immediately after it shatters, his eye takes that distant look again, as if he’s totally separated himself from reality.

“Is that your decision then, myshka?” Dostoevsky asks, voice deceptively soft. Chuuya has to drag his eyes back to the screen, teeth grinding together when Dostoevsky’s hand leaves your wrist to cup your cheek, running his thumb over your bottom lip. 

To your credit, you don’t look scared and for a second, Chuuya doesn’t know what the fuck you’re doing. Dazai would do anything for you, give up anything, you have to know that. All you have to do is say what Dostoevsky wants and Dazai will do it no matter the cost. The irrational part of him, the one riddled with guilt and regret, almost wants you to just say what Dostoevsky wants, tell them and maybe they can figure something out, buy enough time to get you out of there. 

(Another part of him, deep down, knows that it’s hopeless. With Dostoevsky’s hand in contact with you, your fate is sealed. No one will get there fast enough to get you away from him before he can trigger his ability.)

Chuuya realizes, a bit dully, maybe you do know that and maybe that’s exactly why you’re not saying anything. Whatever Dostoevsky wants of Dazai is not something that you can allow him to give up.

Chuuya also realizes, chest sinking, that Dazai probably knows you well enough to know this too. To know that you’d give up your life for his. He looks over at Dazai, the vacant look in his eye and the hopeless air about him. He knew this would happen the moment Chuuya showed back up on base, desperately trying to get him to go back to you.

A crash against the heavy metal door leading to the room that you and Dostoevsky are sitting in shocks Chuuya out of his thoughts, gaze snapping up as Dostoevsky lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“It appears our time is up,” Dostoevsky hums. “What a pity. I would have liked to talk with you more.”

What then, Chuuya?

Chuuya’s vision spins as Atsushi and Kyouka burst into the room you’re being held in. Atsushi, half-transformed, throws himself at you, trying to get you away from Dostoevsky. Kyouka, with her cell to her ear, commands Demon Snow to sever Dostoevsky’s hand from where he’s touching you, trying to sever the physical connection between the two of you before he can activate his ability. 

Behind Dostoevsky, a gold swirl appears, a hand reaching out to grab his arm.

For a moment, Chuuya’s chest swells with hope, breath catching as watches raptly.

And they do it. 

Dostoevsky’s expression twists as Demon Snow cuts through his elbow, severing his lower arm from the rest of his body, Atsushi’s arms wrap around you as he tackles you away from the Russian onto the ground. Dostoevsky is dragged backward into the gold swirl—Gogol, the teleportation ability—and Kyouka and Atsushi focus their attention on you.

He watches with bated breath, waiting as Atsushi fumbles to shift you into a more comfortable position. He leans forward, eyes a bit wild and nails digging into the palms of his hands.

Kyouka kneels next to Atsushi, blue eyes wide, and Atsushi’s expression crumbles as he finally turns you over in his lap. Chuuya’s breath slows, he takes a step back as he shakes his head. 

What then, Chuuya?

Blood stains the corner of your lips, eyes empty, body limp in Atsushi’s arms. No one is faster than the triggering of an ability. Chuuya knew this. How many people have tried to kill him only to be thwarted in a split second by Tainted Sorrow? Still, he had allowed the hope to claw its way up into his chest, clinging to the thinnest thread that maybe, just maybe, his decision won’t have cost you your life, and in an instant, that hope is stripped and Chuuya is forced to face the consequences of his actions. 

Next to Chuuya, Piano Man lets out a shaky breath, turning away from the screen and pacing over to the window. Kouyou makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, eyes sliding shut.

Chuuya’s eyes drag from the screen back down to Dazai. Dazai stares ahead blankly, eye so black and void of light that if Chuuya didn’t know any better, he’d think he was staring into the eye of a corpse. 

Dostoevsky might’ve been your executioner, but Chuuya had been the judge to impose the death sentence.

Onto you, and onto Dazai.

You thought that you would be scared of dying.

Your mind is distant and dazed as you fall backward to the ground, familiar hands wrap around one of your arms and your waist as you’re dragged away from Dostoevsky. You taste iron in your mouth, red tints the corner of your vision, you don’t feel any pain but from the way your limbs become numb and heavy, you know what’s happening.

Maybe you’re just in shock, mind unable to comprehend what’s happening, but you don’t think that’s it. You’d known what was going to happen the moment you were pulled through that ability into this room, the moment Fyodor Dostoevsky told you the only way you’d make it out of here alive is if Dazai offered his own life in exchange.

Dazai would’ve done it. You know he would have. He would’ve accepted the deal and laid his life down for yours in an instant, but you couldn’t let him do that. He’d face pushback from his executives, they might even lock him up to prevent him from following through, and then he’d have to live with the fact that he had the chance to save you but failed. 

You couldn’t force that choice on him.

Your vision blurs and tunnels, eyes fluttering shut, but your body jolts as someone flips you around, hazy gaze focusing in on someone kneeling next to you, whoever is holding you in his lap. Two vaguely familiar wide swirls of violet, gold, and blue hover above you and your surroundings start to bleed out, the white tiles of the walls around you and the two people who’d barged into the room disappear, the violets and golds and blues spread across your vision, melding into a sunrise painted across the early morning sky.

The hand on your body falls limply to the ground next to you, the tips of your fingers brushing through soft white sand. Your head tilts to the side, something warm trickling down your cheek from the corner of your eye. 

You let out a weak breath, your vision clouds red and for a second, you swear there’s a figure laying next to you—lips curved up into a small, sad smile, dark eyes soft as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair out of your face. Dazai wears tan instead of the black you’re used to, both eyes uncovered as admires you. You can feel the ghost of his touch against your skin, warm and familiar.

Osamu… 

You can hear the commotion around you, more people bursting into the room. You can feel your body weakening, but all you can think of is him.

Maybe in the next life.

Dazai doesn’t know where he is. Doesn’t know when he is. Doesn’t know what he’s doing. Doesn’t know who he’s with. Doesn’t know who he is.

Every step he takes, every second that passes, his surroundings become more and more indecipherable. He can hear the vague sounds of Chuuya, Kouyou and Piano Man talking around him but he can’t make out what they’re saying or what’s going on. He finds himself walking but he feels like he’s trudging through slush, as if time has slowed around him and he’s trying to impossibly push through it.

“Pull yourself together,” Piano Man murmurs as Dazai mindlessly moves forward, unsure of where he’s even being led to. 

Every time his eyes slide shut, he’s faced with the image of you in that room with Dostoevsky, the sight of his fingers on your skin. He turns to look at Piano Man and for a moment, he’s lost, wondering how a dead man is standing before him. His lips part to speak but no words leave them, the black walls fade into the vaguely familiar tan and brown walls of the Agency, the coat he wears lightens and Piano Man’s face morphs into Yosano Akiko’s as she tries to snap him out of the stunned stupor he’s left in after finding your body in your apartment. He’d figured out Christie’s plot, but he’d been too late, and his mind had been entirely unable to come to terms with it. Because Dazai never fails, everyone relies on him to know what to do but-

But when it comes to you he just can’t win. No matter how hard he tries, he’s never enough. He’s never quick enough. Never smart enough. Never enough. 

“...ey, hey, boss, are you even listening?” 

Dazai blinks, gaze focusing back on Piano Man and he notices that he’s in the elevator, heading down. Chuuya and Kouyou are watching him carefully but Chuuya doesn’t meet his eyes. Dazai realizes Piano Man must have said something—asked something—but he doesn’t know what.

“We’re heading down to the first floor,” Piano Man finally says again. “The onslaught from Tolstoy and Nabakov ended-” Of course it has, Dostoevsky got what he wanted. “Albatross and-Albatross and the others are on the way back… We must be there to meet them.”

Dazai doesn’t respond. Doesn’t think he’d be able to if he wanted to. His brain is slow, still hasn’t comprehended what happened, still doesn’t entirely know where he is. The pages of the Book keep piling around him, endless and suffocating. He jumps from one reality to the rest, each time seeing the same scene in different fonts. He sees Piano Man and Kouyou exchange a look with one another but Dazai’s gaze is already pointed ahead again, staring through the reflective surface of the elevator doors.

Dazai doesn’t even recognize himself.

They still talk around him but all of the words sound muffled and faraway, like he’s underwater and they’re speaking above the surface. As Dazai stares into the doors, he swears he can almost picture you standing next to him, tucked beneath his arm and leaning into his side as the two of you wait for the elevator to reach the first floor. You smile up at him, he watches it through the reflection, heart in his throat as you lean up on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his jaw and he swears he can feel the ghost of your lips, the warmth.

But then the elevator doors slide open and the illusion of you is shattered.

Dazai’s breath shakes as he forces himself forward but he’s careful to keep his expression flat, ignoring the lines of subordinates already awaiting his arrival. They kneel as he walks past but Dazai hardly takes notice of them, eyes trained ahead.

And then-

And then Dazai sees it.

Hirotsu is holding you, your body is limp and lifeless. Dazai stops dead in his tracks. You look small in his arms and Dazai feels bile rise to the back of his throat, threatening to burst from his lips. Even from a distance, he can see the blood staining the corners of your lips and eyes, can see the way one of your arms dangle loosely from your body, can see how you’ve been entirely drained of life by Dostoevsky.

He wants to move forward, wants to pull you in his arms and shield you from all of the prying eyes around you, hates the way everyone is staring at you, wants to scream and curse the gods above who play with human lives like they’re some sort of game, who are laughing at Dazai for thinking he could get away with defying fate.

Most of all, he’s tired, and he wants to be with you.

The crowds of subordinates who’ve gathered on the lower floor of the building whisper amongst themselves. Some of them, who havent seen you around the base with him, are trying to figure out who you are. Others, who know exactly who you are to Dazai, let out low murmurs as they watch Dazai carefully, waiting for some type of reaction from him. A few, likely those who’ve spoken to you personally, lower their heads in respect.

Dazai tries to make himself take another step forward, pull you away from Hirotsu into his arms, hold you close, stop them from taking you away, but his feet are rooted to the ground.

One voice rises above the whispering crowds.

“What the fuck?”

Dazai’s gaze slides slowly to the side, watching as a vaguely familiar figure pushes to the front of the crowd, walking in the direction of you and Hirotsu. He blinks slowly, not recognizing who it is until Chuuya and Piano Man start moving toward him, both with furrowed brows and concerned words.

Ah, he realizes. Iceman.

Dazai had called him back to headquarters from abroad—but why? The cogs in his mind move slowly as he tries to remember why he brought Iceman back, why the man is having such an adverse reaction to the sight of-

To the sight of you.

Dazai’s eye shifts back to you, all of the air pushes out from his lungs when he notices the way your head has fallen to the side. Your eyes are shut but your face is tilted toward him and you look so-

You look so dead.

Everything around Dazai begins to tunnel and crumble. The buildings around him blurting into indistinct blobs and all of the crowds of his subordinates melding into the background. Iceman’s arrival, Chuuya and Piano Man trying to settle him down, it all becomes white noise as Dazai stares at you blankly.

How did this happen?

He’d-

He’d done everything right, hadn’t he? He’d done everything to make sure you would be protected. He’d clawed his way to the position of boss, annihilated all of the Mafia’s enemies to ensure that Yokohama would be safe for you. He’d sacrificed everything, how did it still turn out like this?

The white noise, the buzz of people around him, it all slowly shifts to laughter. The sight of Hirotsu holding your body turns into Dazai—a different Dazai—hunched over your limp form screaming his throat raw in your apartment. It turns into him sprinting through knee deep water with Yosano Akiko at his heels to get to your lifeless form floating face down in the water of the same beach you met him at. It turns into Chuuya catapulting himself through the air, desperately trying to get to you as you fall because Dazai can do nothing but watch—he fails. It turns into Mori stepping out of the hospital room he was treating you in, Dazai can’t hear what he’s saying but he knows—then Mori turns into Fukuzawa, Fukuzawa into Ango, all the same grave expressions, all the same fate. 

It was never the Port Mafia’s enemies that were at fault for your death. Wasn’t Mimic or an affiliation with the Mafia, like it was for Odasaku. Wasn’t Dostoevsky. Wasn’t Christie.

It was Dazai.

Dazai is the reason you die in every universe. 

The only way for him to save you from your fate is to stay away from you, and he couldn’t even do that. The only chance for him to give you a normal life—a long life—squandered because of his own selfishness.

The laughter gets louder, more manic—they laughed at him when you stumbled into him at the bar, when he tried to stay away, when he gave in to meeting you again. They laugh louder now that things have played out exactly as they knew it would. Dazai danced along perfectly to their marionette strings, as they knew he would from the beginning.

Fate. 

Fatefatefatefatefatefatefatefatefatefatefatefate.

The word that’s haunted him since he was fifteen years old tears apart his mind, claws open his rotted heart from the dark crevice it’s slipped into the past thirty minutes. His vision goes spotty and his head feels light. He knew better. He knew this would happen. He knew-

“That’s my sister.” Again, Iceman’s voice rises above the laughter, a broken gasp that jolts Dazai from his spiraling thoughts. “That’s my sister—what the fuck?”

Ah. Dazai suddenly remembers why he called Iceman back to headquarters. Remembers laying in bed with you a few mornings ago—you were in his arms, warm and happy and alive, and Dazai was excited, figured out the mystery that’s been plaguing him for years. He put together who your brother was, wanted to give you the chance to see him again. Wanted to do something good for you.

And now-

Iceman whirls around, eye wild and expression feral as he focuses on Dazai. Dazai doesn’t know what Chuuya and Piano Man told him, but whatever it was has the man unhinged as he pushes Piano Man hard out of the way to throw himself at Dazai.

“What did you do?” Iceman roars. “What did you do?”

He reaches for the gun at his side, pulls it out and clicks off the safety in a split second—quick and efficient, as expected of the Port Mafia’s best assassin. Around Dazai, other members of the mafia raise their guns in defense of the boss, Dazai only distantly has the mind to raise his hand to order them to lower their weapons.

Chuuya stops Iceman before he can steady the gun at Dazai’s head and pull the trigger. He wrangles the larger man to the ground, using his ability to keep him down, yelling at him to calm the fuck down and explain himself. Iceman clearly has no intention of doing that from the way he futilely tries to throw off Chuuya and go for his gun again.

Dazai watches absently until Kouyou ushers him back into the building, not even giving Dazai the chance to hold you one last time. His chest caves in as soon as you’re out of sight, breath weak and ragged. Kouyou pinches his arm hard.

“Pull yourself together, boy,” she warns. “You cannot let them see you weak.”

Dazai wishes that Iceman had pulled the trigger.

Iceman has never been a good brother. 

He was four years old when you came into his life, and when his mother tried to introduce him to his newborn sister, he’d turned his nose up and pouted, upset at no longer being the only child. 

He was nine years old when his mother died, sacrificing herself to save a child in Motomachi Shopping Center when a drunk driver barreled down the sidewalk. When you tried to cling to him and cry, he pushed you away to mourn by himself, angry and grieving.

He was eleven years old when his father started to see his mother in you, taking out the bitterness he felt for her decision on you with cruel words and crueler hands when he would come home drunk after a long night of gambling away all of his money. A good brother would have stepped in to protect his little sister, but Iceman chose to turn a cheek and plug his ears when you would curl in bed at night and cry.

He was thirteen years old when he came home to you physically hurt for the first time, blood trickling down from a split lip as you curled in the corner of your shared room. Iceman had already started involving himself with the underworld by the point, so it only took a few sniffles and your fingers curling around his wrist for him to stay up all night, waiting for his father to fall asleep so he could press a pillow to his face, smothering him to death and leaving the two of you homeless without a dollar to your name.

He was fifteen years old when he officially joined the Port Mafia, desperate to get a roof over your head. Sixteen when he killed his second man. You never asked questions when he came home covered in blood and wounds, even though you definitely should have. He lied and told you he’d joined an underground fighting ring to try to make some money for you. You took care of him in a way that he never did for you, patching up his wounds with an easy smile and tender hands.

He was eighteen when he met the rest of the Flags after making a name for himself as one of the Mafia’s best assassins. He stopped coming around as much, spending his time at bars with the Flags, afraid that one day you’d figure out what he’s been doing for money, afraid that you would start to see him as a monster instead of the brother you still loved for whatever god forsaken reason.

He was twenty when he cut you off. After his near death experience at the hands of Verlaine, Iceman realized his life was much too dangerous to keep you in it. To provide for you and give you the life you deserve, he had to abandon his name and leave you behind, otherwise you would forever be at risk of people trying to kill you to get to him.

The best thing Iceman ever did for you as an older brother was cutting you off to let you live a long, fulfilling life away from the dark. Away from him.

And for what?

Iceman sighs as he fumbles in his pocket for another cigarette, already on his second pack of the day. He tilts his head back against the tree he’s leaning against, the muddy ground staining his pants. He lights the cigarette and takes a long drag, tilting his head down as a heavy feeling sweeps over him.

And for what?

It’s been two and a half weeks since he came back to Yokohama.

Two and a half weeks since your death.

Your death, the words still make him sick to his stomach, make him feel as if the world is collapsing around you. Iceman had always been sure of the two of you, he’d be the one to go first. The thought of outliving you—his little sister, the one person in the world he’d sacrifice everything to protect—was never even an option in his mind.

He’s spent just about every waking hour with you, trying to make up for the times he didn’t while you were still alive. You’d always hated the dark; he used to bitch and complain when the two of you shared a bedroom because you couldn’t sleep without a night light, and now he feels sick to his stomach thinking of you stuck out here in the dirt alone and in the dark. 

The Flags have tried to drag him away, Lippmann pleading with him to come inside and sleep and Piano Man trying to coax him back with promises of drinks and fine food, but Iceman refused to budge. Chuuya sometimes joins him, brings a nice bottle of wine, cracks it open and after three glasses, starts choking over air, apologizing and begging for forgiveness—sometimes to Iceman, sometimes in front of your headstone. 

Iceman enjoys their company—he does—but he thinks he prefers to be alone with you.

Which, unfortunately, seems to be a rare occurrence.

He sighs as he hears leaves crunching on the path leading up to your grave, gaze drawing to the side. At first, he figures it must be Chuuya dragging himself back to your grave, ready for another round of drinks and regret, but he pauses when he recognizes the long black cloak and red scarf donning the figure making his way over to your grave.

His fingers twitch down to the gun holstered down to his side, resentment and anger simmering dangerously beneath the surface.

Dazai Osamu kneels in front of your grave for the first time since your death. He did not attend your funeral. Didn’t come to see you laid into the ground. Didn’t pay respects. He’s spent two and a half weeks holed up on the top floor of the centermost building of headquarters with only Chuuya and Kouyou as company. 

Iceman thinks he has some fucking nerve, being the reason that you’re six feet under and not even bothering to come see you.

His first reaction is to make himself known, rise to his feet and pull out his gun—an offense worthy of execution in the eyes of the rest of the Mafia, pulling a gun on its boss, but Iceman’s self-preservation was thrown out the window the moment he came back to headquarters to see you dead in Hirotsu’s arms and Dazai Osamu standing there like an emotionless statute as if he didn’t cause this.

But he hesitates when he sees the expression on Dazai’s face, lips trembling and visible eye glassy. Iceman doesn’t think he’s ever seen the boss in such a sorry state before—his bandages are yellowed and grimy as if he hasn’t changed them in weeks, his coat is wrinkled, scarf dirty, lips chapped and cracked. Dazai Osamu is a man that most people see as untouchable and unflappable, and even Iceman, riddled with grief and fury, can’t help but pause at the sight of him breaking.

“I thought I could stop it,” Dazai breathes out. Iceman startles a bit, irrationally thinking that the man is talking to him, but settles down when he realizes that he’s talking to you, eyes slid shut as he kneels before your headstone. “I tried so hard. I tried so hard to stop it.”

Iceman’s eyes lower at the sheer pain in Dazai’s voice, the hoarseness of grief that has his throat red and raw, has him stripped him bare to the bone. From where Iceman is sitting out of sight, he can see the way Dazai’s fingers are trembling in his lap, shoulders shaking.

“All of this was for you,” Dazai’s voice wavers as he speaks, cracking over his words. “All of it was for you-I don’t-what am I supposed to do now? Shit. What do I do? It’s all gone to waste, I knew it. I knew I shouldn’t have-”

The noise that escapes Dazai’s throat is more belonging of a wounded animal than of a human. He curls over at his waist, blunt nails digging into the marble of your headstone, forehead resting against the cool stone. 

Iceman squeezes his eyes shut, throat swollen, letting out a full body shiver at the sound. He forces himself to his feet, fingers enclosing around the grip of his gun, and makes his way over to where Dazai is kneeling. The man stiffens when he hears Iceman approach, straightening and tilting his head to the side to look at Iceman from the corner of his eye. His mouth dries a bit when he sees the tear streaking down Dazai’s pale skin.

“Are you here to kill me?” Dazai asks, voice raspy and throat sore. There’s a mocking edge to it that makes Iceman’s jaw click, as if Dazai is purposely trying to antagonize him. “Go on then, I left Chuuya behind. There’s no one to stop you this time.”

“You think you deserve to go see her already?” Iceman asks coldly.

He stares down at Dazai, watching as the facade cracks at Iceman’s words. The corner of Dazai’s lips twitch downward and his eye goes a bit hazy as it tracks back down to your headstone. He takes in another shuddered breath and Dazai’s shoulders finally slump over, lashes fluttering.

“I knew this would happen,” Dazai finally croaks out, voice weak and wavering. Iceman’s lips tightens at his words, flicking the safety off on his gun and pulling it from his holster. “I knew this would happen and I still sought her out.”

“Even a blind person could’ve seen how this would turn out,” Iceman spits out, pressing the muzzle of his gun to the back of Dazai’s head. He doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t react at all. A part of Iceman wonders if this is what he wants—to be put out of his misery. “This is on you.”

“I know,” Dazai says hoarsely. “... I know.”

Iceman knows that you loved Dazai Osamu for whatever fucked up reason. The same fucked up reason you probably still loved Iceman even after all of the bullshit that he did, and didn’t do, during your childhood. He forced Chuuya to get him the tape after he’d calmed down, watched the way you sat there with Dostoevsky, accepting your fate. Heard that you were given a choice, and the choice you made. He hadn’t been able to understand it at first—you’ve always been so full of life, excited for the future even at your lowest, he couldn’t fathom what could’ve possibly made you so accepting of death.

So he dug further, got Piano Man and Lippmann and Albatross roped up in his schemes. Heard the way you would act with Dazai, how happy you were and how happy he was. Forced Piano Man to get him tapes from around the base; he saw the way you looked at him and the way he looked at you. 

You loved Dazai Osamu, and Dazai Osamu—a man that everyone had been convinced was incapable of emotion, a demon without a heart or conscious—loved you.

He takes in the dark bag beneath Dazai’s tired eye, the glassiness and lack of life within them, the sickly pallor of his skin, and the dirtiness of his clothes. His nails bleed from where he dragged them against the marble of your headstone and he can see a murky redness staining his yellowed bandages, peeking out from where his coat rode up his arm.

Iceman has not been the only one grieving you.

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” Dazai finally rasps out. Less of a question, more of a beg, a far cry from the cold and brutal mafia boss that Iceman has come to know, and Iceman knows that Dazai Osamu died in the same moment you did, only a walking corpse remains in his place.

Iceman scoffs, holstering his gun. “Nah,” he says. “Whatever you’re doin’ to yourself. That’s worse than death.”

“…oss. Boss.”

Dazai’s gaze drags from the photo on his desk to where Chuuya has entered his office, tilting his head to the side as he waits for Chuuya to say whatever he came here to say. Chuuya hesitates and Dazai’s jaw tightens in annoyance. He’s been like this since you-

For three and a half weeks. He’s been like this for three and a half weeks. Constantly hovering, afraid to leave Dazai alone for too long. If Chuuya isn’t hovering, Kouyou is. Dazai can hardly get a moment alone and it’s becoming increasingly hard to continue the preparation for phase five, the final part of his plan. Everything is set in place, if all goes according to plan, tomorrow morning will be the long awaited moment. 

In a little over twelve hours, he’ll be able to be with you again at last.

Four hours until Atsushi is to go to the Armed Detective Agency with the files that will antagonize Akutagawa into attacking the Mafia headquarters. Dazai expects that by three in the morning, the Agency would have managed to fully infiltrate the building, and Atsushi and Akutagawa will be clashing on the roof of the headquarters. 

By dawn, it’ll be time.

But one major obstacle remains. 

Dazai’s gaze draws back to Chuuya, who’s still standing in the door of his office, becoming increasingly more irritated by Dazai’s lack of a response. As long as Chuuya is around, Dazai is going to have trouble following through with the final step. The executive will do whatever it takes to prevent Dazai’s death, so Dazai needs to get him out of the way.

“Chuuya,” Dazai hums, “Wh-”

“We’ve captured Gogol.”

Dazai halts, fingers pausing from where they’d been thrumming against the desk as he thought. His gaze sharpens as he tilts his head to the side, “Is that so?”

Gogol. Gogol. The one who captured you, handed you to Dostoevsky on a silver platter. Dazai might’ve been the cause of your-

Dazai might’ve been the one at fault for all of this, but that doesn’t mean he can let your executioners get off scot-free. He rises to his feet, the pads of his fingers pressing into the dark wood of his desk. For a moment, he doesn’t move, his ears ring and his eyes slide shut. Dazai didn’t think he’d get the chance to handle either of them—he’d resigned himself to accepting that he would have to forfeit personal vengeance to ensure that at least Odasaku will be able to live out his life in this world.

But now…

From the corner of his eye, Dazai swears he can see you barge into his office from his apartment, a wild smile on your face as you wave around the TV remote, claiming you found a good movie for the two of you to watch. It’s only for a split second, but Dazai’s heart leaps from his throat, breath catching. He hasn’t dared step foot in the apartment since… everything happened—it’s too big now, too empty. Your coffee mug still sits on his kitchen table, clothes strewn across his room from where you’d been having a fit trying to find the perfect outfit for orientation.

“Dazai.”

Chuuya speaks and the mirage of you is gone. Dazai lets out a heavy breath before shaking his head and making his way toward Chuuya. Neither of them speak again as they make their way into the elevator—they’ve hardly had a full conversation with one another since… since Chuuya chose to disobey orders—heading down to the belly of the headquarters where Gogol will be held. Dazai’s mind spins, lashes fluttering as he thinks.

He knew that Dostoevsky would be well out of reach, that he would have to leave your justice for when the Russian makes his real move in the hands of Odasaku, Akutagawa and the Agency, in the hands of Chuuya, Iceman and Atsushi. There’s no way that Dazai would be able to get his hands on the man in a timely manner, and Dazai can’t risk being in this world any longer than he’s already been. The longer he remains, the more Odasaku is at risk of meeting the same fate you did, and then all Dazai has done and sacrificed over the past seven years would be for nought. The only chance he had to protect the two of you squandered because of his own selfishness and incapability.

But Gogol. He hadn’t dared hope—Dazai lost any semblance of hope the moment he saw Chuuya show up at the Port Mafia headquarters—but he couldn’t help but want.

Kouyou and Piano Man are already waiting in the torture chambers when Dazai and Chuuya finally arrive. Gogol has silver shackles around his wrists, military-grade ability nullifying cuffs that the Mafia had stolen from a government shipment a few months back, and when he sees Dazai, he laughs wildly as if he’s just been told a hilarious joke.

“It’s really you,” Gogol cackles. “Dostoy thought for sure you’d have offed yourself by now.”

Dazai hums, but otherwise doesn’t react to the words. He supposes that they’re not too off the mark, Gogol is only unlucky in that he managed to get himself captured the day before it’s meant to take place.

“Are you going to kill me?” Gogol coos. “Avenge your pretty little thing? Not many people manage to catch Dostoy’s attention, y’know? I was so curious about her.”

Dazai tilts his head to the side and smiles thinly, a cold one that makes Gogol look impossibly more entertained.

“I hear that you enjoy freedom,” Dazai says more to himself than to Gogol, but finds a bit of sadistic pleasure in the way Gogol hesitates. “What makes you think I’d ever give you the mercy of death? The ultimate freedom?”

Gogol does not respond, so Dazai continues, “So long as you live—and you will live—you’ll never take another breath of fresh air or feel the wind against your skin ever again. My men will ensure you live to a ripe old age. They will feed you when you try to starve yourself, force water down your throat when you refuse to drink, they’ll heal you when you try to kill yourself to free yourself of this prison. For the rest of your life, until you rot of old age, you’ll be caged in the basement of this building. A bird clipped of its wings, trapped forever behind gilded bars… I think that’s quite the fitting fate for you.”

Dazai relishes in the way that Gogol freezes at his words, but even that is not enough to heal the gaping wound in his chest caused by your absence. The pleasure is hollow, like the hole you left in him. Dazai is so tired, he just wants to get back to his office so he can finish finalizing the last step for the final phase.

He just wants to be with you.

Dazai turns to leave, motioning for Chuuya to join him, but as soon as he turns his back, Gogol is speaking again, letting out another manic laugh: “Aren’t you curious as to what the deal was? I can tell you.”

Dazai stills, Gogol laughs louder. 

“It was a life for a life. Your life for hers. I thought Dostoy was crazy for it, I mean, who would think a random girl’s life would be equal to that of the boss of the Port Mafia,” Gogol snickers. “But looking at you now?” 

Dazai’s jaw tightens, he looks over his shoulder as Gogol doubles over laughing and then says quietly, “Her life was worth ten of mine.”

He doesn’t hesitate this time as he walks back toward the elevator, ignoring the way Gogol howls with laughter even as Piano Man has his men drag Gogol back into the most secure cell in the Mafia headquarters. Chuuya follows behind Dazai dutifully, and it’s only when they reenter the elevator does he finally speak.

“You sure you don’t just want him killed?” Chuuya asks, voice a bit stunted and awkward.

Dazai doesn’t respond. “I have a mission for you.”

“Hah?” Chuuya demands. “Now? What’re you talking about?” 

“A meeting with Goldoni of the Family in Rome, he’s insistent that it’s done in person. It’s essential that it takes place as soon as possible. I’ve booked a flight for you, it leaves in two hours.”

“Two hours?” Chuuya hisses. “What are you planning, Dazai?”

Dazai doesn’t respond again. Instead, he turns his head to the side, looking at Chuuya dead on. “That’s a direct order, Chuuya.”

Chuuya draws back as if he’s been slapped, but he doesn’t speak up after that, and Dazai knows that he’s won. By the time Chuuya lands in Rome, everything will be over—the last step of the plan will be complete. His eyes flutter shut as he leans back against the wall of the elevator; he feels a type of contentedness that he hasn’t felt since he watched you drive off with Albatross, Hirotsu, and Tachihara.

Soon, he sighs to himself softly, eyes reopening to focus on his reflection. He swears he can see you again, feel the ghost of your touch against his skin as your fingers lace with his. All he has left to do is talk to Odasaku, and then he can be with you again. 

We can watch one last sunrise together.

“I had someone once, y’know?” Dazai Osamu says, expression distorted and eyes distant, drawing to invisible figures sitting at the stools with them. Oda stares curiously, watching as he opens and closes his mouth, as if trying to figure out what to say. “It was hard. Without you and her, everything was so much harder. I tried so hard to do things right, to protect this world; I did what I could, but I couldn’t stay away from her.”

Dazai’s words disappear with his ragged breathing, dozens of emotions crossing over his face as he stares at his lap. Oda doesn’t speak, trying to put together whatever piece he’s missing—figure out who this her is that Dazai is referring to so that he can understand what’s going on. He keeps his gun steady, pointed at the boss of the Port Mafia in case this whole thing turns out to be a trap even if he’s slowly starting to doubt it.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to her,” Dazai says airly, talking more to himself than to Oda. “She said she’d see me later. Told me she loved me. I didn’t say it back. Do you think she knew, Odasaku?” 

The man in question chooses his words carefully when Dazai looks at him, black eye wide and imploring, much like a child seeking out advice from a trusted adult. After a few moments, Oda finally says, “Women are a lot more intuitive than men. If she said it, I’m sure she knew you felt the same.”

Dazai lets out a quiet laugh, a soft smile on his lips and a fond, but faraway expression on his face. “You always know what to say, Odasaku,” he murmurs softly, saying that odd nickname again. Oda frowns, but Dazai only continues. “She was good. A lot better than me… Deserved better than me. She was so smart, Odasaku, I think you would’ve liked her. She got into one of the best grad schools in the country, y’know? Was on her way to orientation when-”

Dazai stops talking suddenly, takes in a sharp and stunted breath, eye going a bit wild as if he can’t even force out the words. Oda is suddenly frowning, recognition sparking in his head as he remembers you, the sharp girl from the train station that he’d failed to save; the one who's been haunting his mind since the moment that golden swirl appeared and dragged you away. Ranpo had deduced it was mafia business rather quickly, but Oda couldn’t convince himself of it because he couldn’t figure out how someone like you was affiliated with the mafia.

This… It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Still, Oda couldn’t imagine you with someone like the man sitting before him, or maybe he could, he reconsiders, watching the adoring expression that paints the mafia boss’s face as he talks about you, the smile on his lips and the enamored look in his eye, the pride. Oda doesn’t think he’s ever seen a man look so entirely lovesick before.

Dazai looks at him curiously, must have caught the spark of recognition on his face. “Do you know her?”

Oda pauses, trying to figure out what to say. He doesn’t know if he should admit to seeing you in the moments before you were killed; Dazai Osamu is clearly not stable, fickle and capricious with his emotions, Oda worries that the mafia boss might abruptly turn on him, become hostile when he realizes Oda could have saved her but failed. 

“You did,” Dazai breathes out, excited suddenly, eye lit up like a child who has been told Christmas is coming early. “You knew her, you did, didn’t you? How did you meet? Wasn’t she incredible? Tell me.”

Oda inhales slowly, testing the words on his tongue before he says: “... I met her at the train station… that day.” Dazai’s smile wobbles at the edges, a glassy look in his eye like he’s looking right through Oda. Oda continues speaking quickly, “She was brilliant. She gave me a good idea on how to end the book I’ve been writing.”

Dazai’s smile softens, the childish appearance disappears as he looks down at his drink. “Will you use it?”

Oda responds honestly, “I think I will.”

Dazai looks as if he’s been given a precious gift and for a moment, Oda hesitates, gaze lingering on the expression that is somehow both sorrowful and content at the same time.

“It’s almost dawn, isn’t it?” Dazai says, a bit distantly. Oda watches carefully as an unfocused look clouds Dazai’s black eye, his head turning to look out the window of the bar. “She loved sunrises… I promised her we would watch one more together.”

The sun breaks the horizon in the distance, Dazai smiles wistfully as the colors spread across the morning sky. Endless pink clouds dance in the dawn, orange paints the skies; he stands at the edge of the roof where you sat with him that first morning, leaning your head on his shoulder as you watch all of the shapes the clouds make.

“Doesn’t that one look like a cat?”

Dazai hums in agreement as his gaze traces the sky; he’s never been able to see all of the figures you point out in the clouds, but he likes listening to you talk. Sometimes, you’d spin stories as you rest on his chest, and he’d doze off to the sound of your voice. He wants to look down to where you’d normally be sitting, but he’s afraid that if he looks, he’ll find you disappointed—sad eyes staring at him as if you know what he’s about to do. 

Worse, he’s scared that if he looks, you won’t be there.

Distantly, he can hear Atsushi and Akutagawa still arguing with one another, shouting questions at Dazai, but it all sounds distant and muffled—he couldn’t make out the words if he tried. He’s hyper focused on the sound of your voice in the billowing wind; he can almost imagine that each brush of the gusts against his skin is your touch.

He waits, even as he hears Atsushi creeping toward him, trying to get to him before he lets himself fall over the edge. He promised you one last sunrise, and it would be remiss of him to not stay long enough for you to watch your favorite part.

“She loved sunrises,” Dazai repeats again, this time for Atsushi and Akutagawa to hear. Atsushi halts at the words and he can hear a wavering ‘boss’ escape Atsushi’s lips. He closes his eyes and he can picture you in front of him, a soft expression on your face, lips curved up, and a dreamy smile tugs at his lips. “I’ve waited for this moment so long. I’m pleased, I really am… I just wish things had turned out differently. I wanted her to live, and I wanted to read his novel when he finished it, but I guess what I want doesn’t matter anymore… It’s enough to know that they were able to meet here.”

“Please wait,” Atsushi cries out, and Dazai can hear him moving again, stumbling as he tries to get closer. “Dazai-san, wait!”

“Atsushi-kun, Akutagawa-kun,” Dazai says. He opens his eyes again, watching as the sun finally crosses the horizon in its entirety, basking the world in an ethereal morning glow. His breath catches, and Dazai sees you again standing before him, haloed by the light. He reaches out hesitantly, but draws his hand back before his fingers can graze you, not wanting to taint you with his touch. “I’ll leave the rest to you.”

Dazai takes a step forward closer to you. He ignores Atsushi’s screams and Akutagawa’s shout. His eyes slide shut as he falls, the wind whistling in his ears and ripping the air from his lungs, but Dazai feels at peace for the first time in weeks. A smile curls to his lips, he swears that he feels your arms wrap around his waist, the familiar weight of your head resting on his chest. 

Dazai hopes, maybe a bit irrationally, that there might be a universe out there that he missed, one where the two of you are able to live out your lives. Maybe if he’s lucky, Odasaku will be around too. He’ll have finished the novel with your help, just like in this universe; and Dazai will pout and whine whenever you push him out of the room to brainstorm with the older man, but he’ll always smile as soon as he’s out of sight, content, happy. He’ll get to read the novel once it’s published—you refuse to let him get any peeks until it’s done and you yell at him and Odasaku when Dazai tries to guilt him into showing him it—and he’ll get to be with you.

He’ll get to be with you.

Find me again. Next time, I’ll make it right. 

I promise.

GUYSSSSSS WATERLOO IS OVER I'M ACTUALLY GOING TO CRY. this series has been my baby for so long i don't even know what i'm going to do with myself now that it's over. :(

some notes to share with u guys:

fyodor's ability. SIGH. the past few chapters fucked up my plans, so we're going to imagine that that his ability is still the kill on touch for the sake of my sanity. or maybe he used someone else's ability to kill her. who knows. i had this scene set in mind from waterloo day one so i didn't want to change it.

THE ODASAKU-READER CONVERSATION WAS ACTUALLY SO ANTICIPATED, i had the idea from side a when dazai chose to bring her to his grave, and then i was like ... wait, what if in side b... and i think it's a neat tie in to the beast movie too, because if i rmr correctly, he sought out fyodor later on and i think witnessing reader's capture & not being able to prevent her would give him even more of a reason to go after the man.

uu!chuuya hurts my heart truly. he really did care sm about reader the more he got to know her, and he blamed himself so much for her death. and then dazai uses the fact that he disobeyed orders and got her killed against him to make him leave so that dazai can kill himself. poor man will never not blame himself for everything

ICEMAN AS READER'S BROTHER. look, i know a lot of you wanted odasaku but it just didn't fit. she would've recognized his name in side a

badlands!reader -> i fear she is dead and gone, as you all probably have come to terms with by now at the end of the uu. but i want to add in HOW she dies because it's touched on in this chapter & i posted an ask about it a few weeks ago.

in badlands universe, fyodor isn't actually the one to kill reader, it's agatha christie when the order of the clocktower finally makes their move on yokohama for the book. for this, i also have to get into christie and what i think her ability might be - obviously we know it's based on "and then there were none" which is the mystery novel that involves 10 people w various accusations against them being killed/dying according to a nursery rhyme. i dont know exactly how i want the ability to be executed, but i know for the purposes of the fic that involves 10 ppl dying in various ways according to how they died in the book. christie targets various ppl that have been close to the agency/pm and reader is one of them. so over the course of 10 hours, the 10 people start dying. it takes to the 5th hour for them to realize that this is an ability user and not coincidences because by that point 2 ppl affiliated with the pm and 2 ppl that have close ties with the ada die and the two organizations approach each other about it, and obviously ranpo figures out during that meeting that it's an ability targeting ppl affiliated with both organizations. and that's when dazai starts getting a really bad feeling, tries to call her but she doesn't pick up, and then ends up ditching the meeting to go find her but </333 he doesn't get to her in time. her death is the death on the 5th hour and it parallels emily brent from the book: injected with cyanide after drinking poisoned coffee. dazai finds her in their apartment </3 he is too late to save her.

also a fun side note about badlands: reader and dazai were, in fact, engaged.

anyways, i love you all, thanks for sticking along the ride with me

(。♡ ‿ ♡。)

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hurray 🎉 more asks!!

First off love-love your writing!

I'm not sure if you were the writer or if you've read the snippet. But there was one that I read where Captain Marvel gets de-aged into a child, a speaks an unrecognizable language child (like he was an actual adult not a kid pretending to be an adult). Everything is mostly fine until he asks for his parents and nobody knows who they are. Kid Marvel screams and a giant hole tears open and I assume the JL meets the Everlasting Trio.

I would love to see how you would continue something like this or write something of this nature.

Ironically, the champion of Magic was turned into a child with magic. It was one of those things that he was sure would be funny in a few years but not in the moment. Initially, Bruce had been horrified to see his teammate fall like that from the sky, his form shifting and changing into what could pass as a five-year-old right before his eyes.

The spell caster had unfortunately gotten away with a convenient portal, and they were left scrambling to catch Captain Marvel. There was also the issue of all the civilians that were displaced due to his rampage through the city of Fawcett City.

Bruce quickly worked to have Wayne Enterprise start funding the relief program for them, but it would take time, which was not something they had. He left it to Superman, Flash, and Wonder Woman to get everyone sorted—the three were the best at working with scared civilians.

In the meantime, he Zeta-beamed himself, and the small child Marvel had become up to the watch tower. The boy had been unconscious the entire time, which worried Bruce. After a few tests and scans with the medical staff, as well as his own studies, it was decided that besides being de-aged, there was nothing physically wrong with Marvel.

They would just have to wait till the Champian woke himself.

Bruce wondered how he would take his new form. In all the research he had done on Marvel and the legends of the Wizard, the champion had never been depicted as a child. He had assumed this was due to the champion repeating in various forms- sometimes female, sometimes male- but never as a child.

If anything, Bruce had discovered that they were always at peak physical age, usually from twenty-two to thirty-five. He had assumed this meant the reincarnation or the selection for the champion was just made that way.

How foolish to think they were never children that grew to that age before proclaiming themselves as Captain Marvel.

"Where am I?" a child's voice called, surprising Bruce from his files on Captain Marvel. Twisting around, he finds himself staring into the doe-blue eyes of Captain Marvel.

For a moment, he is reminded of his various children with similar coloring, and it pulls on Bruce's heartstrings to see the distress on that little face. He raises his hands, making sure his voice is softer than his usual growl. Bruce became the vengeance, so every child should feel safe with him after all.

"You're safe here." He reassures, watching the boy's face twist. He steps closer, portraying comfort but not reaching out to touch. "Do you recognize me?"

"Are you a ghost?" The boy's voice is low, slightly fearful. There is no hint of recognition in his posture, expression, or voice. Bruce bites back a swear.

So much for that hope. Still, his teammate needs him. "No, my name is Batman. A few hours ago, we were, in fact, together against a magic user. You were hit and turned into a child. Does any of this sound familiar?"

The boy grips his blanket, bringing it up to his chin, and stares at Bruce with growing distress. He shakes his head just as tears start to swell in his eyes. It's not good at all. "Where are my parents? I want to go home."

He filed that away, wondering if there were any parents to contact for Captain Marvel. He's been around for hundreds of years. If he had been selected as a human, the myths implied, then his parents would have likely been long gone.

Bruce wonders if there is any way he can conceive Captain Marvel coming to live in the Wayne manor until he is turned back. He could leave him to live in the Watch Tower, but he hates the idea of it just as he thinks it.

His face crumbles as Bruce tells him honestly, "I'm not sure where your parents are, chum."

Captain Marvel's tears fall to the bed as he curls up. Bruce reaches out to give him a hug, trying to comfort the distressed child. He is just about to assure him he is safe again, and Batman will help him when the child lets out an ear-piercing scream.

It's high pitch enough that Bruce can't tell if the ringing he hears is from the sound or if it's only in his ears. He opens his mouth to ask when a portal—unlike the one the magic user had cast—rips open in the room.

Out steps a man with snow-white hair. On instinct, Bruce gathers Marvel in his arms, flinging them to the corner and throwing a Batarang at the intruder. He shields the boy behind him, pushing him toward the wall and growling at the man.

His batarang is shot out of the air with some kind of green ray, as the man's eyes narrow.

A sound escapes the man. The structure and expression of the man indicate that it's obviously a language, but Bruce doesn't recognize it. He can tell that the man is angry, though, and that's not something he wants anywhere near Captain Marvel in his current state.

"Who are you!?" He demanded, raising more weapons. "How did you get in!?"

Oddly, Captain Marvel speaks, his words similar to the language the others use, and the white-haired man's face softens.

"You have my son," The man says in perfect English. Bruce raises a brow.

"Do you know him?" He whispers to the wiggling child.

"Yeah, that's one of my dads." The boy whispers back, sounding a lot calmer now that his apparent father is around. Bruce cautiously steps away, watching Marvel run straight into the arms of the stranger.

The man meets him halfway with a loud, excited chirp and purr, bringing the boy into his arms and squeezing him into a tight hug. Bruce watches every hint of body language, concluding he is not lying about being the boy's father.

"I'm sorry about the scare. It's been a long time since Billy used his distress call. I got a little worried." After a few minutes of chirps and purrs exchanged between parents and child, the man says. He raises his head to stare at Bruce with a regal air.

An aristocrat. Bruce's mind whispers, wondering where this noble hails form. Nowhere on earth with his glow or bright eyes. Was Captain Marvel half-human? "It's alright."

"I'm Danny Phantom," Danny tells him, flouting over with an outstretched hand that is not holding his son up. "It's an honor to meet you."

Bruce returns the handshake, keeping his voice and tone even. "Batman."

But inwardly, he swears up a storm. He knows that name and recognizes the legends and myths. Danny Phantom, the Ghost King, ruler of the connecting dimension of the muli-verse. It was one of the first beings he had encountered in his in-depth religious and culture studies, having seen the Ghost King be depicted throughout history even when he was lost in it.

One of the strongest beings to ever exist. Alongside, his wife and husband, who each ruled their own powerful area on the mortal plane- The Green that Posoisin Ivy and Swamp Thing gain their powers were said to be Samatha, the wife of the ghost King.

The meta gene—identified by the scientific community in recent years but proved to exist long before the first ancient Egyptians—was said to be a blessing from Tucker, the Husband of the ghost King. He was the one who appointed the first pharaohs, destroying the meta gene through their bloodline.

And Captain Marvel was their child.

No wonder the man was the champion of Magic. Who else was more qualified than the Heir to the Ghost King?

"It seems like a simple curse. It should reverse on its own," King Phantom comments while continuously turning his child this way and that, making the boy giggle. "It will wear off in only ten years."

Bruce wondered if he knew that was a very long time for humans. But what was a decade to a god?

"Batman was it?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Call me Danny. I was thinking, since Billy will be stuck like this for ten years, maybe my family should go on vacation while he recovers." Bruce does not like the sound of this, but he can't deny the king's action as a bright light overcomes the glowing figure, and a regular-looking human is left in its wake.

"I'll call my husband and wife. Do you know if any properties are for sale in your neighborhood? I want Billy to be close to his work friends."

Bruce was right. He did not like this one bit. Should he risk war with the Infinite Realms to keep them out of Gotham? The answer was no, unfortunately, and he could try to push the family to move to Metropolis so they can be Clark's problem, but he knows that lying to higher beings is never a smart thing.

He sighs, tapping his wrist computer. "I know a realtor."

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Billy's Parents #Part 1 #Everlasting trio move to Gotham #Tucker is the god of the metas since he bestows powers onto people #Form all the times he was possessed and gain powers himself #Billy was made from all three dna but he looks the most like Danny #The trio have forgotten what being human is like #Bruce is tired man

[11cupid-tarot11]

What has your future spouse been dreaming about lately?

For the divine feminine seeking the divine masculine •°. *࿐

1 -> 4

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Pile 1- The Chariot, Two of Swords, The Hanged Man

I'm getting the feeling your spouse really wants to make a move on you! He's dreaming about what it's like to be all in your space, he really wants to know what you're like. I was thinking at first that maybe he wants to spend time with you and know what it would be like to do mundane things with you like grocery shopping, but I think this guy is more curious than that. I think he wants to know just about you in general and what you like doing, he's the type to watch what you pick up and glance at during shopping just to get a feel of what you like. He wants to know your schedule, how your day went, he'll probably ask this a lot.

I feel like this person has a crush on you? He feels kinda stuck, like the hanged man lol. I'm not sure the circumstances or the dynamic of the relationship/how you'll come together but it surely feels like this person is very secretive with his thoughts of you, like he's very open telling me but he's scared to tell you? Like maybe this is someone you know of and you guys are friends and they're secretly crushing lol, that was very specific so it's okay if it doesn't resonate with everyone. This could also be a secret admirer for some.

But he's dreaming about changing something with you, planting roots and something stable. I'm not sure what the change will be, but I am seeing him thinking of different approaches to overcome whatever hardship is happening between you two, it could also be something on their end like maybe shadow work still needs to be done or they're still dealing with a karmic relationship of some sort.

It seems to me like they're sorting through everything, they might fantasize about things finally coming to an end and being able to start something with you. I know as soon as this is finished they're spreading towards you. I think they really just want you to know they're still coming? I got this rush feeling, like an adrenaline rush feeling? I think this person just wants you to know they're still clearing through some things! "Just hang in a little longer!" I'm hearing with a cute little smiley face ☺️. Your person is adorable! I think they love acts of service too!

I think if this were to be a 18+ reading they'd definitely tell you about all of the things they'd love to focus on your body and needs lol.

I have to make an 18+ version of this now 😂 stay tuned!

Don't forget to do the poll below! Talk again soon!!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Pile 2- Six of Coins, Eight of Swords in reverse, The moon, Temperance, Ten of Cups.

Your person dreams about spoiling you, pampering you, taking you out on really fancy dates (plus showing you off 😵‍💫) just treating you like you are their everything. I hear it's because you are their everything! They adore you so much!

This person talks a lot too and wanted to pull extra cards when I usually only do a three card pull spread lol.

This card makes me feel like your person kinda feels like a spider stuck in it's own web right now, they're really in their head :( I getting your person has a negative mindset? For some of you it could be specific as they feel like they're not on the same level as you whatever that might mean to them. They dream about cutting out of their web, I think for the benefit of the connection really but also for their piece of mind, yk?

Maybe this person feels like they have to achieve a certain amount of wealth before they come to you, which goes hand in hand what I was saying about really wanting to spoil you lol they want to save up a bunch so they can have a great future with you and for those of you who want children they also want to build a family for you so of course they want to save for this too.

They dream about having a steady home with you, I think they like to fantasize about your future a lot lol. They say it won't be perfect but it'll be the definition of love like a real family should be lol. They want a balance with you, they're also the type to be very balanced in a relationship, they'll balance work and you at the same time. I honestly get the vibe that's why they're working so hard right now, so they can spend the rest of their time with you more!

I think this person dreams about the day you two unite! With the ten of cups I feel they dream about a happy home with you a lot, but also a happy relationship. I can guarantee this relationship will be very fulfilling and healing and loving. Their energy feels so excited to meet you if you guys haven't already, a healthy and loving relationship could be something they've always wished for so this is a wish fulfillment for them, they can't wait to experience real love with you. 🩵 The color blue might be specific for a few of you?

Don't forget to do the poll below! Talk to you soon love :))

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Pile 3- Knight of Coins, Justice (clarification cards- Death, and Strength), Two of Wands, Seven of Cups (clarification cards- Ten of Cups), and King of Swords (clarification cards- Knight of Wands)

I needed so much clarification for this group xD

Every time I look at the ducks eyes they always look so full of administration, anyone else see it? It's adorable. I channeled right away your person will adore you like this picture so I chose it!

I heard they think about this every day straight away lol.

Your future spouse fantasizes about putting hard work into you, really showing up for you I'm feeling. Like I feel like it's deeper than a materialistic matter, I feel like he really wants to support you emotionally. He doesn't want to be your therapist or anything it's like he just wants to make sure you're okay, he really cares about your well being. A better way to put this is that they really want to show up as a man in your life, one that doesn't have a toxic sense of masculinity and really respects women and wants to understand your needs, wants and boundaries I'm hearing. He likes to solve your problems because your problems are his problems.

He's dreaming about justice in a situation, I'm going to pull clarification cards for the Justice card to help understand a bit better because I want to know possibly in what situation, I can't figure that out on my own I'm not hearing much channeling on this card. The clarification cards just are making me feel it's probably a too personal situation they don't want me to know about, but maybe when you meet this person you will know because it's making me feel like it's linked to you, he probably doesn't want you to understand much either right now but he says he's working hard on getting justice in a situation he really wants to come to an end soon, I think when it's over it'll bring a lot of happiness, a shift in energy, a really big change :) He wants you to encourage him to be strong as he encourages you, it's a very tough situation maybe? Heavy energy kind of just came through me, like a little random rush of sadness just thinking about the question so I will move on now :)

This person fantasizes about making everything perfect a lot in a way, he really likes to plan. You'll notice this about them right away lol. They probably have a hectic schedule right now I'm hearing. They're possibly planning on how to get to you? This feels like a soulmate connection, something that's just supposed to happen because it just makes so much sense because you two love each other and really care for one another. This is someone who you can spend the rest of your life with because they're confident you two are a perfect match. Very equal in the relationship which is why it would work perfectly I'm hearing. He's just doing a bunch of planning right now, lots of thinking things over and through.

He dreams about probably having a lot of money, a level of fame? Maybe he's a celebrity or wants to be, he could be very creative and expensive. He dreams a lot very dreamy they could have water in their chart, they do feel emotional. They're so cute 😭

This person dreams about picking a path and advancing in it basically, they really want to be the boss, be at the top of their game whatever career or field it might be. They want a lot of abundance! They fantasize about being given an opportunity to present themselves, show off maybe. They could be a really good singer/rapper or some kind of performer. They could play an instrument.

I feel like they really want to settle down with you for sure though, they want to offer you a lot as well so they work really hard to show up financially, they could've grown up in poverty I'm hearing a specific message for some of you so being financially stable is everything for them. They want you right by their side ;)

This person was kinda hard to read but I think that's cause how dreamy they felt, thoughts kinda bouncing around everywhere haha, so take this how it resonates with you!

Don't forget to do the poll below!! Talk to you soon!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Pile 4- Seven of Coins, The Magician (clarification cards- Three of wands), Seven of Wands (clarification cards- Death and Queen of Swords)

This person wants to start off with the seven of wands first even though it was the last card to be pulled lol.

They want to maybe draw attention to dreaming about fighting for something? They are very protective and will stand their ground and fight for what's theirs. I can't really tell, so I'm going to ask for clarification ;) I don't know why but I feel like they want to sabotage a relationship between you and someone else? I feel like they fantasize about this a lot! I feel like your energy is the Queen of wands but you don't really see this person! This could be a clue your future spouse is someone you already know!

They dream about making you theirs lol stealing you away. 😋

So with that, they're also dreaming about the future with you! Working on their finances as well, but also thinking about what it would be like in the future with you. This person feels like they're confident they will have a future with you lol. Maybe they're not making a move right now because they want to build up their finances more for the long run with you, because when they do make a move on you they plan to commit deeply and I'm hearing they fell hard for you, and you possibly don't even know it 😵‍💫.

😭 ��� you probably drive this person crazy lmao

He's probably manifesting you lol?

I asked for clarification for the magician as well and it just makes me think he's really brainstorming a lot right now? I think every pile had a lot of thinking in them but never really being too specific on what and I'm always left with so much quietness so I'm left in the dark😭

They're just really thinking a lot which makes me think it's only about you. They seem shy, they could be younger than you? They seem like they're too scared to tell you how they really feel. Could be scared of rejection? But they really do fantasize about you a lot! They think about you constantly and different ways to impress you, how to get your attention. They really want you my pile 4's and they're fighting hard hehe. They won't back down either!

They think you're very pretty, like the bunny in the picture 😻. Hehe cute.

They might call you princess a lot, or other cute little pet names. They feel very affectionate, they have a lot of love to give! This person isn't someone to be scared of, they do care about you! It's not all about lust, there's love here as well as admiration! They do adore you!

Don't forget to do the poll below!! Talk again soon love!!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

#pac love reading #pac tarot #pick a card #spirituality #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarot love reading #tarot messages #tarot card reading #love tarot reading #love reading #tarot community

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

How did it end?

Summary: A flashback to the night that changed your lives forever.

Pairing: past Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.4k

Rating: T

Warnings: angst (so much angst), flashbacks, some really hurtful words, cursing, crying, pregnancy tests, Joel being a dick, Calvin being the best supportive brother

A/N: somehow I feel in my mind like this should have been worse, but I am sure you all do not feel like that at all so I'm sorry lol

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part three of invisible string

Even before the outbreak you dealt with your anxiety or with big life decisions the same way.

You were stress cleaning. 

After walking out from Joel you made your way into the town centre, picking up your kids and then got back home where your brother Calvin was already trying to cook something but you mutually made the decision that you were gonna cook while he bathed the kids. 

You both did not want him to burn the house down.

He wanted to ask you how it went, having run into Maria on his way home from the Patrol meeting, who had told her that you had been at the clinic to see Joel. 

But this wasn’t the time or the place. 

It ended up being a nice evening all things considered. 

You had dinner, played some boardgames, read a good night stories to your kids and watched them sleep in their little beds until the nervous energy in your body left you walking back downstairs.

Once the house got quiet after the kids and you brother were asleep (he had an early morning with his first big day on Patrol the next day) you were alone with your thoughts. 

And your thoughts were loud, and demanded to be heard. 

So you went into the kitchen, took a look at all the cleaning supplies that were still stocked under the kitchen sink and got to work. 

You started with the top of the kitchen cabinets, standing on the counter as you scrubbed what felt like centuries of dust off of them until you were satisfied and moved to inside the cabinets. 

What a picture it would be if one of your new neighbours caught the crazy lady next door deep cleaning the kitchen at 2 am during the literal apocalypse.

Cleaning usually had the power to make the thoughts inside your head shut up. 

But as you emptied the cabinets so you could clean them inside, your mind drifted to the last time you had tried to deal with whatever was going on in your life by extensively deep cleaning every surface around you. 

The Outbreak might have been an excuse for many people to let things like cleaning the place where they lived become unimportant. 

Which deep down it was of course.

Why have a clean kitchen when just down the street, behind the fences and walls the so called new government had pulled up, there were people and what once were people dying or fighting (or eating) each other?

But you always lived by the mindset of clean home, clean mind. 

And what you desperately needed right now was a clean mind. 

Two ten year old positive pregnancy tests you took this morning after feeling off for the last couple of weeks and missing you period were enough reason to freak out. 

But you couldn’t freak out. 

Joel would do that for you, you were sure. 

That was, if he ever decided to come home to you again after being on a run with Tess for the last four days. 

He hadn’t even told you or kissed you goodbye this time. 

You had woken up to a note on the kitchen table telling you that he’d be gone on a run with Tess and he didn’t know how long.

Something about your husband had changed in the last few months. 

It changed ever since Tommy left and Tess was his only influence outside of you. Not that you had much influence on anything he did nowadays. 

It wasn’t like he was the most attentive men to begin with. 

But you fell for him. 

You fell for the complicated, traumatised and closed off man who to this day was the most handsome man you had ever met. 

And deep down you knew he fell for you, mumbling his confessions of love into your skin when he thought you were asleep. 

It was the way he looked at you. 

The way he brought home a new book to read whenever he went out of the QZ. 

The way he made you forget about the fucked up word outside of the walls you made your home whenever he gave you his full attention. 

He wouldn’t have put a ring on your finger years earlier as you laid in his arms, asking you to be his until the day you both died, if he did not love you, would he?

You loved him, you loved him even when he seemed to make it his personal goal to make you hate him. 

He used to be home every night in the beginning. 

He used to love to spend time with you and you with him. Staying up just talking for hours if he wasn’t making love to you. 

Because even when he was fucking you, it felt different. More… intense. More passionate.  

He used to smile at you. 

By now you couldn’t remember the last time he smiled at you now. 

And by the time you had practically polished the whole shitty apartment you and Joel lived in it was dark outside and he still wasn’t home. 

In hopes he would be home and it would lift his mood you had made dinner that now sat cold on the stove.

It was after 11pm and you were tired, having been in the bathroom brushing your teeth when you heard the door unlock and open. 

A nervous flutter in your stomach made the dinner you had earlier almost come up but you took a deep breath, looking at yourself in the small mirror over the sink. 

You were wearing one of Joel’s old worn flannels, his familiar scent in your nose. 

What was the worst that could happen?

It was not like you could just turn back time?

You were pregnant and he just would have to deal with it. 

Right?

You would never forget the way his eyes hardened once you said the words

„I am pregnant.“

He had been in a relatively good mood when you joined him in the small kitchen, having already taken his shoes and coat off, his hair damp from the rain outside. 

It made you reconsider telling him for a tiny moment, wanting to just enjoy this with him. But maybe he would not react like you thought he would? Maybe he would be happy?

You wanted to ask a million question about how it went but you were too nervous, having instead kissed his cheek with a whispered „I miss you“ and then offered to warm up some food for him. 

He had put his hand on your waist, his fingers brushing over your stomach as he went into the bathroom, his lips against your temple telling you that he would just take a quick shower. 

It was after he ate, the table cleaned that you told him. 

Sitting across from him at the tiny shitty table you had, your hands flat on the surface, the silence after you told him the news sickening.

His whole face had changed, expression hard, by the time he opened his mouth to speak. 

„Is it mine?“ He asked and you just blinked at him, speechless, your head falling back as if he had slapped you, before you answered. 

„What do you mean? Who else would it be? We’re married,“ you said and he scoffed. 

„Doesn’t mean you don’t open your legs for anyone else while I’m gone,“ he sneered and you flinched at the accusation and the tone he used. 

Sucking your bottom lip in you looked at your hands, still on the table, nodding your head slowly. 

„Good to know what you think of me after all these years,“ you whispered, still trying to process his words. 

„What did you think would happen? That I’ll be happy? Newsflash darlin’, this isn’t one of your dumb romance novels you keep reading,“ he said, before he brought his fist down on the table, making you jump. He got up from where he was sitting, walking over to the cabinet that held all the liquor he scavenged, opening the one bottle of original Jack Daniel’s and taking a long sip. 

„You gonna get rid of it,“ he said and you looked at him. 

„Excuse me?“ You asked. 

„Don’t want no kids of mine in this fucked up world. And especially not with you,“ he said and you felt slapped again. One blow after the next coming from him. You crossed your arms in front of your stomach protectively. 

You had imagined his reaction would be bad, but this wasn’t bad. This was destroying you.

„So that’s it, you don’t want a kid, and I have to just comply?“

„That’s exactly how it is, sweetheart,“ he grinned darkly at you, shaking his head and leaning against the wall and you desperately tried to find the tiniest part of the person you had fallen in love with as you looked at him. 

But there was nothing left. 

Maybe you just had been too blind to see it until now.

„I thought you loved me,“ you whispered, tears in your eyes. 

„How can someone love you? You thought because I put a ring on your finger everything would be okay? We’d be a happy little family and live in this shitty apartment in this shitty QZ while the world around us is fucking dying? How did you think this would go?“ He asked. 

„You made it sound like I planned this. Do you think I like this? Do you think I like being pregnant by a man who even though treated me like the fucking dirt beneath his shoes for the last months, was still the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with?“ 

„Then get rid of it and we can get back to it,“ he said and you scoffed.

„You really think things are gonna get back to how they were after you said all that?“ You asked. 

He shrugged. 

„Where would you go? You have no family. No friends. All you have is me,“ he said. 

„And you’re so different? Who do you have? Tommy left because…“

„Do not talk about my brother,“ he threatened and glared at you. 

You shook your head, taking a deep breath. 

He was drunk. 

This was not going anywhere. 

This would never go anywhere.

„Things are not going to go back. I can find someone better than you on every corner,“ he said and you could not stop the sob that shook your body and you were pretty sure you could hear your heart breaking. 

„I don’t love you. I never did,“ he said and the tears you had tried to hold in finally fell. 

„Get rid of this, before I take care of it,“ he said, and a chill ran down your spine at his tone. 

„And then get the fuck out of my life.“

You were in the last touches of finishing cleaning the kitchen when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. 

You hadn’t even noticed the tears until Calvin pulled against his chest, his hand running soothingly up and down your back. 

„You wanna talk about it?“ He asked and you shook your head. 

„Not yet. Not ever if I’m honest,“ you mumbled and he chuckled. 

„Need to talk to him though,“ you said and leaned back, turning around to turn on the stove to heat up some water and make some tea for the both of you. Looking at the clock hanging on the wall you noticed that it was just before 5 am. 

„Don’t need to do anything,“ he said and opened the fridge, getting the lunch he had prepared the day before for his day out and grabbing some stuff to make himself a sandwich. 

„I can’t ignore him forever. As much as I would like to. He’s…. He’s here and he won’t go anywhere. Neither will we. So we have to…. Co-exist somehow.“

You both get to your tasks before you both sat down at the table, you with two mugs of tea, one for him, him with two sandwiches, one which he pushed towards you. 

„You still love him,“ your brother said after a while and you sighed, looking up at him. 

„Yeah. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t think I’l ever be able to forgive him for everything that happened,“ you smiled sadly. 

„Well,“ your brother said before he got up and put his plate in the sink.

„Then you should talk to him and tell him that so you can both move on with your lives.“

You followed him towards the front of the house where he put his shoes on and checked if he had everything in his little backpack for this first patrol. 

„What if he wants to be in their lives?“ You asked, nodding upstairs to where both your children were still sleeping. 

„Do you think he wants to? He made himself pretty clear from what you’ve told me,“ Calvin said. 

„I don’t know. It’s been a long time and he seemed…. He seemed really sorry? I just….“ You took a deep breath, shaking your head.

„Nope. I am not gonna spend any more time thinking about Joel Miller. I’m gonna go upstairs and take a two hour nap and then I’m gonna go and explore our new home while my children are learning stuff in an actual school,“ you said. 

„There you go!“ Calvin grinned.

„Be safe today!“ You said, grinning back and hugged him quickly. 

„You too,“ he smiled, before he opened the door, your face falling as you saw Joel stand on the porch, his hand held up in a fist as if he was about to knock. 

„I’m here to pick you up for patrol? Tommy’s gotta stay home today,“ Joel said as he looked between you and your brother. 

„Well that is gonna be fun,“ Calvin said, winking at you, before he stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him, giving Joel no chance to try to say anything more if he wanted to.

You watched them through the window next to the door as they walked down the porch and then down the street until they were out of sight. 

Letting your shoulders fall while you exhaled with a sigh you shook your head before you made your way upstairs. 

This was gonna be a long day. 

#my fic #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Joel Miller #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[jobean12-blog]

Hello friend! I'm here on a Pedro Scout Asknado mission. 🫡😘

What's your dream date with your dream Pedro character?

Getaway

Pairing: Joel Miller (no!outbreak Joel)

Word Count: 564

Summary: You and Joel enjoy every minute of your vacation.

Author's Note: Thank you so much my sweet friend! What a fun ask! I took this as more of a getaway than a date because one date just wouldn't be enough and the beach really is my favorite (a dream!) and I think I read somewhere Pedro loves it too- so we'll just pretend Joel does as well haha! It was hard to leave Javi behind but Joel is my #1. Thank you again and I hope it's cool I wrote a little blurb for it! Just had me thinking how nice it would be to have this time with him! Have a lovely weekend! Hugs and love! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: Soft, sweet and fun fluff, little spicy bits too! :)

“Are you almost rea…?”

You walk out of the bedroom just as his words trail off and dissolve into a low rumble.

“Darlin’.”

“What?” you ask. “I’m ready! Let’s go! The beach awaits!”

He groans and grinds his teeth. “Let’s skip the beach.”

With two long strides he meets you in the hallway and wraps you in his arms. He steps back until he has you pinned along the wall, his lips hovering above yours and his body pressed close.

“No way!” you say. “You’ve been waiting for the beach all year.”

“Are you gonna be wearing these the whole vacation?” he whispers against your lips as his finger slips under the flimsy strap of your sundress.

“I have a few with me…”

His eyes close with a pained expression and his hand slides down your arm to grab your waist. The press of his hips to yours shows you exactly what he’s thinking and you nibble his bottom lip before soothing it with a kiss.

You take his hand and slip from his grasp. “Come on!”

He follows you with a pout, his curls falling in front of his face and framing his soft brown eyes.

“Joel?” you ask when you feel him staring.

“Hm?” he says, clearly distracted and staring at your ass.

You tsk lightly and continue setting down the blanket.

“I could use some help you know.”

“I’m enjoying the view,” he murmurs.

“The ocean is beautiful,” you counter.

He chuckles and leans forward, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“What’s beautiful is your ass in that bathing suit darlin’.”

“I thought it was the sundresses that drive you crazy,” you tease.

He gathers you closer and slides his hand over your ass, his gaze growing more heated.

“It’s you. You drive me crazy darlin’.”

“You’re not holding back are you, Mr. Miller?” you whisper, staring greedily at his mouth.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that Mrs. Miller, I’m going to have to drag you back to the beach house.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

You flatten your palms on his chest and stand.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” he calls.

“For a swim!”

You wade out into the warm water and turn, watching your husband approach. He dives under the water before you can get your fill but when he breaks the surface again and droplets glisten along his tan skin, your breath catches.

He reaches you and takes you in his arms.

“You’re stunning,” he whispers letting his eyes follow the trail of a drop of water as it travels down your neck and into your cleavage.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

You kiss his neck, his skin warm and salty and then run your hands through his wet and slicked back hair.

“I’m not sure I can take much more of this,” he murmurs, catching your lips as they pass his. “I think it’s time for a beach break.”

“Like I’ll ever say no to you.”

Tenderness sweeps through his intense expression and your fingers continue to smooth over his damp skin, the droplets of water on his shoulders tickling your fingertips.

“I’m one lucky son of bitch, aren’t I, darlin’?”

“We both are,” you answer and curl your fingers into his dark hair to pull him in for a kiss.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader

[foreseersgaze]

— On this note, I love Zayne's medical talk sooo much 🥺

— Every time Zayne talks about something nerdy he read in the library, or whenever he just randomly brings up facts about the heart or heart surgery I just have the worst urge to suck him off, so here's a little drabble about doing just that.

— 18+ only! MDNI!!!

It's a lazy Sunday morning—one of those rare days where Zayne isn't working his ass off in the hospital, but of course, he chooses to spend his time reading up on one of his books specializing in knowledge of the heart while you sit next to him playing video games.

You hear a casual hmm, coming from him, and, curiously, you press the pause button on your controller and look over at him, peering over the pages of his book, wondering what he's so interested in.

Zayne flicks his gaze over to you, looking over the rims of his silver-lined glasses when you lean in so closely and he raises an eyebrow, a small smirk tugs on the corners of his lips before closing his book, which makes you huff.

"You know you can ask what I'm reading instead of putting your nose quite literally into my book, right?" He quips, and you roll your eyes at his smart remark. You roll over onto your stomach and your legs move to dangle into the air while listening to him.

"Yeah, yeah... sorry for taking interest," you mutter before looking over at the cover of his book, which looks very familiar. You squint your eyes at the cover, recognizing that he's definitely read this book before. Now it's your turn to poke fun at him. "Besides, haven't you read this book already?" You retort, a small grin forming on your lips when you see him take off his glasses with an amused sigh.

"I have, actually. I'm just refreshing my mind on a few heart cancer facts," he replies, folding his glasses and hanging them over the collar of his shirt.

Your eyebrows raise at this; your interest is immediately piqued. You look up at him with wide eyes and you rest your chin on the palms of your hands while dangling your feet into the air, already wanting to listen intently.

"Oh? Do share them with me, Dr. Zayne." You smirk, and you can feel a rush of warmth going to the apples of your cheeks when Zayne begins to talk about a few facts that he knows that might interest you.

"Well, did you know that heart cancer is extremely rare? In fact, it's so rare that we at the Asko Hospital see a case of heart cancer once per year..."

You continue to listen to Zayne talk, watching his every move. His eyes avoid yours, just staring at the TV, looking at the paused video game screen while he talks, and every now and then, his gaze will shift back to yours to see if you're still listening to him, which, of course you are. You can't help but not listen, always finding his vast knowledge of the heart extremely sexy.

While he talks, one of your hands mindlessly begins to wander up and down his thigh, just keeping your eyes on him. He feels this, so his gaze turns to yours and he raises an eyebrow, figuring you're up to something, but he's not sure what. He pauses.

"...What do you think you're doing?" He asks, his eyes narrowing on your hand before his green eyes flick over to your eyes, trying to read your mind. He has a good guess on what you're trying to do, but, he's not quite sure since you're clearly still showing interest in his heart knowledge.

You can't help but giggle in reply. "Nothing. Just keep talking."

Zayne hesitates for a moment, but he goes on anyway. "...Right. So, anyway, still, other cancers can spread to your heart, but..." He resumes talking, and your gaze is still focused on his lips, listening eagerly to every single word he says while your hand slowly slides up his thigh, and starts palming at the growing erection in his pajama bottoms, which quickly makes him stop talking as he lets out a groan and heavy breath.

"W-What... what are you..." He groans again, and he looks down at your hand as you palm him through his clothes. He wants to capture your wrist and turn the tide on you, but as waves of pleasure fill him, he realizes why exactly you're doing this.

"Keep talking, Zayne," you say, looking up at him with those sweet, pretty eyes of yours, blinking innocently as if your hand is still underneath your chin and not palming his hard dick through his pajamas.

He huffs, his nose turning a slight pink and a slight grin appears on his face.

"Really? You want me to keep talking?" Amusement is thick in his voice when he notices his realization is correct. "It seems you truly are interested in what I have to say," he says lowly, as he brings a hand down to cup your face gently, a calloused thumb swipes over your bottom lip which makes you immediately heat up.

You nod slowly, and, moving away from his hand, you climb over to lay between Zayne's legs and gently pull on the drawstrings of his pajama bottoms so you can pull them down. You grin when you see the hard imprint of his dick in his underwear—knowing your touches worked while he was talking—so you gently pull his underwear down too and let out an amused hum when he's fully erect in front of you, long and thick, with veins at the base of his dick that make your mouth water.

"Yes, yes, now keep talking," you urge while taking him in your hand, wanting him to keep talking not only because you genuinely find it so interesting, but also because for some reason, it makes you so fucking horny to hear him talk about this.

Zayne huffs at this, wanting to engage in having sex with you and be present in this, but, since you keep insisting, he gives in since you clearly love it so much.

"Fine..." He sighs, continuing from earlier. "...Other cancers can... fuck." His breath escapes lowly from his throat when you suddenly surprise him by gently sucking on his tip, just hardly suckling on it while your tongue flicks on it gently.

You look up at him while sucking on it, keeping those wide eyes of interest on him, making him realize that he needs to continue to keep your mouth on him.

"O-Other cancers can metastasize, or spread, to your heart, but cancer doesn't usually form within the heart itself..." He gets more breathy as you suck harder with every word, and a deft hand goes to grip your hair, wanting to guide you down his cock, but he lets you suck him off how you want, keeping his hand still and firm in your hair. "...A-And treatments like chemotherapy that look for... ah, damn." He grunts when he feels you suddenly suck harder on his tip.

He takes in a sharp inhale, hating how good you are with your mouth, because he's feeling close already. He swallows thickly, continuing.

"...For malignancies that can damage the heart's tissue..." He groans, and his long fingers grip your hair even tighter which makes you hum against his tip, focusing more on the underside of that sensitive spot, making him grunt. "...You know, if you keep this up, you're going to make me cum," he says almost bluntly before groaning again when you hallow your cheeks around him.

"Damn... I... and, heart cancer results from the tumor angiosarcoma..." He continues to get more breathy and he grunts, gripping your hair tightly when you finally move that tongue of yours on his sensitive tip, making him throb and quickly release ropes of his hot, white cum into your mouth. He takes deep breaths when he finishes, his head falling back against the headboard of the bed, and you pull away, grinning once you swallow all of his cum.

He's silent for a bit, trying to catch his breath before he looks over at you with a grin.

"Did you know studies also show that men who have sex twice a week or more are less likely to develop heart disease?"

#my fics. #posts. #lads. #lads #love and deepspace zayne #lnds #love and deep space zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x reader smut #zayne smut #zayne fanfiction #zayne li fanfiction #zayne li smut #love and deepspace smut #lads smut #zayne love and deepspace smut

[permanentswaps]

Hello, Dad

Read Part 1 by @possessionbodythief.

Two years have passed since that fateful night, and I’ve settled into my new life as Jake with surprising ease. Watching the residents of the house over the years has proven invaluable in adapting to the modern world. My mannerisms have changed, but since the real Jake had always been uncertain about how his dad would react to being in a new body, it didn’t matter much. People around me simply chalk it up to growing up and finding myself.

After some time living with "my dad" - or Jake now in Robert's body - in the old house, I realized I needed my own space to truly embrace this new life. Moving out was a big step, but one I knew I had to take. I found a small apartment downtown with a view of the city skyline, a far cry from the haunted house I was confined to for decades. This place, with its modern amenities and vibrant surroundings, felt like a breath of fresh air. The sense of freedom and independence was exhilarating, something I had never known in my previous life.

"It's so good to be free," I whisper to myself, a smile spreading across my face.

My phone buzzes, pulling me out of my reverie. It's a text from "my dad."

"Hey Jake, you wanna grab dinner tonight? Been missing you."

My smile widens. I quickly text back.

"Sure, Dad. There's a new spot near here I've been meaning to try, wanna meet at 7?"

"Perfect. See you then, kiddo."

I put my phone down, thinking about how much has changed. Lately, I've been working out a lot. I feel a bit bad for Jake; he was just kinda impatient. It would've happened for him eventually if he had kept with a routine. I mean look at the transformation from then to now:

But hey, his impatience is my gain. I'm still more lean than buff right now, but that's how I like it. There are a bunch of cute guys checking me out all the time. I've even managed to get a hot boyfriend.

But it seems Jake has noticed the changes the most. He even jokingly muses, "Damn, what I would've done to have a body like yours at that age." He's kidding, of course. He never experienced this age. In fact, we still have never mentioned the swap – thank God, 'cause I don't want to risk him finding out who I really am in this body. Jake seems to be completely comfortable in his new body, never showing any signs of sadness or jealousy. He truly embraces his role as Robert and appears genuinely happy.

But sometimes, he throws in these playful comments that catch me off guard. Like the other day, I was stretching after a workout, and he walks in, giving me an exaggerated once-over.

"Look at you, all limber and toned. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to impress someone," he said with a wink.

He smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "Well, you're definitely turning heads. Just make sure you don't break too many hearts."

I grinned back at him. "And look at you, Dad. You're in fantastic shape. You've got those muscles everyone dreams of."

Jake's eyes gleamed with pride as he flexed his bicep. "Damn right. I know I've got it going on."

Another time, we were out for dinner, and I mentioned I was thinking of getting a new wardrobe.

"Oh really?" he replied, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Trying to show off those gains? I can't blame you. If I had your body, I'd probably never wear a shirt."

I chuckled, feeling a flush creep up my neck. "Maybe I'll take your advice and start a new trend."

It's not just my body that's improved, though. Jake has also been hitting the gym hard. He's in fantastic shape, even better than when I first took over this body. His muscles are more defined, and his confidence radiates in every movement.

As I step into the upscale restaurant, the blend of modern design and rustic charm immediately catches my eye. String lights are draped across the space, casting a warm, inviting glow over the wooden tables and cushioned benches. The walls are adorned with lush greenery and vibrant flower arrangements, creating a serene and picturesque ambiance. The gentle sound of a nearby water fountain adds to the tranquil atmosphere. The tantalizing aroma of freshly baked pizzas and herbed garlic bread fills the air, making my mouth water.

Jake is already there, waiting at our table. He looks up and grins when he sees me.

"Hey, kiddo," he says, standing up to give me a hug.

"Hey, Dad," I reply, embracing him warmly. "This place looks amazing. Ready for a feast?"

"You bet," he says with a laugh as we take our seats.

We start by ordering a variety of appetizers: bruschetta topped with fresh tomatoes and basil, crispy calamari, and a charcuterie board that looks almost too good to eat.

"These bruschettas are amazing," Jake says, biting into one.

I nod. "Definitely. This place is awesome."

As we work our way through the appetizers and move on to the main course, a handsome waiter catches Jake's eye. He can't help but flirt, turning on the charm with every word. The waiter, clearly interested, flirts back, and by the time dessert arrives, Jake has the waiter's phone number scrawled on a napkin.

I can't help but laugh. "Wow, Dad, you're really on fire tonight."

Jake grins, waving the napkin. "What can I say? When you've got it, you've got it."

We finish our meal with splitting a tiramisu. As we're wrapping up, Jake leans over, a serious look in his eyes. "Hey, why don't you come back home tonight? I've missed having you around recently. I'd really like it if you stayed over."

"Sure, Dad," I say, smiling. "I'd love to."

When we get home, he catches me looking at myself in the mirror, admiring my progress. The muscles I've worked so hard to develop are finally starting to show, and there's a newfound confidence in my reflection. Jake walks up behind me, his presence warm and reassuring.

"You know, you've got this whole 'boy-next-door' vibe going, but with an edge. It's... intriguing."

I chuckle, a bit embarrassed but also pleased by his words. He steps closer and grabs my waist, his hands firm yet gentle.

He looks at me in the mirror, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "See, I told you," he says with a twinge of irony, "You just needed to wait for your growth spurt."

I turn to face him, our eyes meeting. "I guess you were right," I say, with a knowing smile. "It just took a little time."

A look of lust flashes over his eyes, and I feel a thrill run down my spine. He moves closer, his hands sliding up to my shoulders, giving them a firm, appreciative squeeze.

"And now you’re all grown up," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

Before I can respond, his lips are on mine, capturing me in a deep, passionate kiss. My body reacts instantly, pressing against him, the heat between us igniting something primal and intense. It's been two years since we last shared this kind of intimacy, and the hunger in his eyes tells me he’s been waiting just as long.

He guides me to the bedroom, our kisses growing more urgent, our touches more desperate. The anticipation builds as we shed our clothes, revealing the bodies we’ve both worked so hard to perfect. The air is charged with electricity, the desire between us palpable.

Jake pushes me gently onto the bed, his eyes roaming over my body with a mix of pride and lust. "You're perfect," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

He joins me on the bed, his hands exploring every inch of my skin, rekindling the flames of our past encounters. I gasp as his lips find the sensitive spots on my neck, my chest, my inner thighs. The pleasure is overwhelming, each touch sending waves of ecstasy through me.

When he finally enters me, it’s like coming home. The connection between us is deeper than ever, our bodies moving in perfect harmony. Every thrust brings us closer to the edge, the intensity building until it’s almost unbearable. I grip his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as I match his rhythm, our breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"It's been too long," Jake groans, his breath hot against my ear. "I’ve missed this."

"Me too," I gasp, my hands clutching at his back, urging him deeper. "God, I've missed this."

His pace quickens, each thrust more powerful than the last. The room is filled with the sounds of our passion—the slap of skin against skin, the low moans and gasps, the whispered words of desire. I can feel myself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in my core.

Jake's hands grip my hips, pulling me closer, deeper. "You're mine," he whispers fiercely, his eyes locked on mine. "Always."

"Yes, Daddy," I moan, the words slipping out naturally, a thrill of submission coursing through me. "I'm yours."

The intensity of his gaze, the possessiveness in his voice, sends me over the edge. I cry out, my body arching beneath him as pleasure crashes over me, wave after wave. He follows moments later, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he finds his release, collapsing onto me, spent and sated.

We lie there, tangled in each other’s arms, the afterglow of our lovemaking still shimmering around us. His weight is comforting, his presence a soothing balm. I run my fingers through his hair, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine.

"That was incredible," I murmur, my voice soft and breathless.

He leans down to kiss me again, slow and sweet, a promise of more to come.

[idkwhatever580]

Country Girl

Masterlist

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x singer!reader

Prompt: One night a drunken Tony forgets y/n’s Texan roots and dares her to sing something different.

Warnings: dumbass Tony, songfic, swearing

A/N: okay guys. I usually dislike country but it’s growing on me. Yes this is low key a vent lol but in a good way? Idk I know the people that I’m linking the songs to. Like I literally know them. (Well the second one I know know and the first one I know her kids better but I know her too lol)

Disclaimer: I do not own these songs. The first song in the fic is not going to be y/n’s but the second one is. I would like to preface this by saying it’s like a face claim but for a song lol idk how to describe it 😭

Y/n’s Pov

I just finished my last song of the night and I am saying my goodbyes to the drunk people of the infamous Stark party.

Then suddenly Tony walks onto the stage (more like trips) and slurs

“You can’t sing good! Only good singers can sing every genre”

I chuckle at him and say

“Tony I can sing every genre. I just don’t.”

He smiles at me like he’s about to win something.

“Prove it. Sing a country song.”

I smirk and look over at Natasha who is on one of the couches watching me from afar and she gives me an eyebrow raise so I say

“What’s in it for me?”

He thinks and says

“You know how you always want me to make you your own iron man suit?”

He waits for me to nod and when I do he continues

“I’ll make one for you if you can sing a country song with no lyrics”

I hold my hand out immediately saying

“Deal”

He pauses and says

“But! You can’t sing one of the popular ones that everybody knows like before he cheats okay?”

I keep my hand out firm and say

“Deal”

So he takes it and we shake on it. I make it a point to look at the crowd and say

“Y’all are seeing this right?!”

They all nod and I once again give Natasha a little smirk knowing I’m getting an Iron Man suit.

So I go backstage for a second and grab my guitar and then I pull up a stool and adjust my mic.

I take a breath and say

“Here goes nothing”

Making the crowd laugh a bit. Honestly anything can make a drunk person laugh.

Either you can listen to this or just read the words. Idc. It helps if you listen. (It’s only part of the song btw)

I start strumming the guitar like my teacher taught me. I learned how to play on this song so it’s in my heart.

But it doesn’t matter. I’m still nervous as fuck. I might have learned how to play with this song but I never had to perform it.

I never stay in one place too long

A dirt road's singing me a siren song

I smile when I start to feel the music. I can see a couple people recognizing the song. But not many since it’s only like half way popular.

I gotta find a field

I need to spin my wheels

I got a hankering for four wide tires

And I can't help it it's the way I'm wired

'Fore you get too close

At the last minute I decide to change the words since I’m gay and I don’t like boys. Don’t wanna send the wrong signals.

Girl you need to know

I got a heart like a truck

It's been drug through the mud

Runs on dreams and gasoline

And that ole highway holds the key

It's got a lead foot down when it's leaving

Lord knows it's taken a hell of a beating

A little bit of love is all that it's needing

But it's good as it is tough

I got a heart like a-

“Hold on hold on hold on!”

Tony cuts me off so I stop playing. I give him nasty look and everyone in the crowd boos him since he literally cut into the song I was singing. But before I can say anything he says

“I know this song. I wanna hear something I haven’t heard before.”

I roll my eyes and say

“Stark, you actually only asked for a not super popular country song. I’m singing a half way popular country song.”

He shakes his head and says

“Okay me something you know I’ve never heard before.”

I smirk and look over at Natasha and she nods her head.

So I run backstage and tune my violin so I can play the bridge and then I set it on my stand and oick up my guitar again.

“You wanna hear something you’ve never heard before? I’ll give you just that”

He narrows his eyes and says

“What’s the song name?”

I sigh and say

“Leave Texas Dry.”

He folds his arms and sways a bit. He’s still drunk as fuck

“Who’s it by?”

I smile at him sweetly and say

“Y/n motherfucking Y/l/n”

His face goes white knowing he just lost and I say

“You seem to have forgotten my roots Anthony. I was born and raised in Texas. In other words you just lost a bet with a country girl.”

He scoffs and says

“Not yet. The song has to be good. How do I know it’s not chicken shit?!”

I smirk and say

“Let me fucking play and you’ll see”

The crowd low key goes wild and I sit my happy ass back down and start playing.

I’ve only played this song for Natasha, but I sure as hell practiced so many times that I memorized it. I was not about to get it wrong in front of my possible girlfriend at the time.

I remember asking her to be my girlfriend after singing it.

Once again I am NOT Kay O’Neil. I am simply an acquaintance that loves her music and also happens to write fanfics lol.

Here’s the song if you wanna listen before reading.

She’s like summer rain

Takes my cares away

Drives me insane

She’s all I need

Just for her to stay

Is all I plead

While singing I start thinking of her. I am only looking right at her and I think of the first time I met her. Before we dated I could not handle myself. It’s almost funny how clumsy and awkward I got around her.

‘Cause when she smiles

My heart can’t take it

And I’d go miles

Just so we could make it

‘Cause I’m startin’ to see

How hard it would be

To let her pass by

And leave Texas dry

I was just a girl from Texas that ended up with powers. I had no idea what my life was to hold.

She’s pourin’ down

And I can’t get enough

Wanna keep her ‘round

I remember the first time we danced in the rain. I was sad and sitting on the roof. She, being my best friend, had come out and sit there with me. Then it started raining and she pulled me up to go inside but I stopped her and asked her to dance with me.

I stepped on her foot a few times but she didn’t mind.

‘Cause when she smiles

My heart can’t take it

And I’d go miles

Just so we could make it

‘Cause I’m startin’ to see

How hard it would be

To let her pass by

And leave Texas dry

I pick up my violin for the bridge and start playing with all my heart.

Then I look at Natasha and smile seeing her bright smile on display. She can make me melt from one look. And I start singing the bridge.

It’s hard lettin’ go

When her love is all I know

But I want her to do

What she wants to

I wrote that because I was terrified. We had a situationship, but she was scared of love. And I was scared of life without her. But I wanted the best for her so I was ready for rejection.

Then I slow it down for the last chorus.

‘Cause when she smiles

My heart can’t take it

And I’d go miles

Just so we could make it

‘Cause I’m startin’ to see

How hard it would be

To let her pass by

And leave Texas dry

She blows me a kiss and I send her a dopey smile and I suddenly remember the black box in my pocket. I kept it on me for any time that was perfect. And honestly. What a better way to do it?

So I move my hand to signal her up here and I give Wanda a look to make sure Tony doesn’t get in the way of it.

She immediately understands and nods her head having her mission set out.

Then Natasha makes it onto the stage as I sing the last few lines.

Oh don’t leave Texas dry

Leave Texas dry

I stand up and look at her and she has a surprisingly watery smile.

I hand her my violin since the stand is behind her and while she turns around I shush the crowd and get down on one knee while getting the ring box.

She turns around and gasps.

I give her a loving look and say

“Natasha. You have been there for me from the very beginning. I remember my first day here and Clint was showing me around telling me not to get hurt if you didn’t like me. But you surprised everyone by volunteering to help me get my things and you were so kind. I knew in that moment I wanted you. I have known for so long I love you. I love you so so much and I will never stop loving you.”

She has her hand covering her mouth and her eyes are watering. The crowd, thankfully, is dead silent except for the few coos from them since the mic is still on. I have my head mic on today instead of using the normal microphone.

“I asked you to be my girlfriend three years ago with this exact song. And when you said yes I almost passed out. I completely expected you to reject me by punching me in the face. I honestly am surprised you haven’t punched me even now. And I thought, what a better time to ask this question than doing it like I did in the beginning. So please. Make me the happiest woman alive and marry me?”

I look hopeful and she pretends to think about it like she did the first time but ultimately she nods and says

“Yes y/n I would love to marry you”

After that I break and let out a sob and shakily place the ring on her finger. She actually had to help me because I was so shaky. But she pulls me up to stand and kisses me in front of everyone.

And then our moment is ruined by Tony patting me on the back.

I look at Wanda and she sends a sympathetic look that says ‘I did all I could’ and then I smile knowing we at least got a moment. But Tony says

“Look at that ladies and gentlemen and everything in between”

I smirk knowing I rubbed off on him. And he continues regardless

“All of this happened because of me.”

I roll my eyes and instead of fighting with him I just let him have his moment knowing he won’t remember this in the morning and say

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. But you still owe me a suit”

He groans and runs off to get another drink. I turn to Natasha and say

“Let’s go to our room fiancé”

A/N: I hope y’all liked it!!! I def let my country out a bit. But not a lot. You can tell I’m from Texas from the y’all

Taglist comment or message me to be added to Taglist!!!

@ilovesnat @ihartnat

#natasha romanoff #avengers #fanfic #marvel #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #fanfiction #black widow

[quinnylouhughesx43]

“He's been a bit of a jerk”

Summary: quinn suddenly ditches his childhood best friend on new years eve when they have spent every NYE together since they were 6. luke saves the night

Warnings: use of y/n and I think one or two uses of y/n/n, only brief mentions of quinn not actually active in fic but substantial to the plot, like has internal dialogue via italics, if I missed anything please let me know

Word Count: 1.8k

requested: yes - “luke pining after Quinn’s best friends and he finally gets the girl.”

Authors Note: edited as may 31, 2024 - if you read before May 31 the word count is now 800 more than it is was previously 🫣

On the frost-tipped grass, (Y/N) sat beneath a canopy of stars, her back propped against the rough bark of an old oak tree. A light dusting of snow had settled over the ground, transforming the world into a perfect winter wonderland. She shivered, not necessarily from the cold evening, but from the heart wrenching realization that tonight was supposed to go different. It was New Year's Eve, and every year since they were six, she and her childhood best friend, Quinn had celebrated together. But this year, he had up and ditched her last minute. Just like that. He gave her zero explanation and no apology. He had just vanished into the night with his middle brother, leaving her feeling more alone than ever. Which when he left for the NHL was pretty hard to top, yet he somehow managed to do it when he was only somewhere in the same town. The two barely get to see each other anymore as it is. He lives in Vancouver and she lives in Michigan. Quinn flies her out to a few games a season and of course she attends any Canucks vs Redwings games as well as Canucks vs Devils games. However the time the two have available with one another is so restricted at that time, she may as well be just another fan in the arena.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching through the frosted snow. A warm blanket was draped over her shoulders, and a steaming cup of hot chocolate was pressed into her hands. She looked up, her eyes falling on her best friend’s youngest brother, Luke, as he joined her. She briefly looked over his features, his cheeks were already flushed from the growing colder night, but the smile he gave her was warm and genuine.

"Hey, (Y/N)," he whispered as if they were amongst a huge crowd of people and not alone in an empty yard. His voice still highly audible over the silence of the night. "I came out here for a few reasons but one being because I…” Luke’s words ran out into the night. His right hand pulling off his beanie then he was slipping his fingers through his messy curls. A tell tale sign he was nervous about whatever he was about to say. “I wanted to apologize for what Quinn did to you tonight. He had no right to leave you like that. I don’t know what is going on with him and what would make him decide to leave behind the one person who has been consistent for him that isn’t family. The one person in his life that still sees him as Quinn and not as big shot Quinn..” Luke shoved his beanie back on and sighed. He had been looking up at the night sky watching the night clouds move uncovering the stars. “He has been a bit of a jerk here lately, and I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to stop him."

(Y/N) smiled weakly at the rambling boy next to her. Her gaze slowly drifting back up to the now clear sky and where the stars were twinkling like Christmas lights. "It's fine, really. I mean, it stung a lot at first, but..." Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged halfheartedly. "I'm just glad you were here tonight." The butterflies in Luke’s stomach flapped back to life and were going insane at her last statement. “Who knows Lukey. Maybe we can start our own tradition together this New Year’s.” Luke was watching her body languagefor any signs of a joke before speaking up. “I wouldn’t mind. It would teach Quinn to ditch someone as special as you.” (Y/N) slightly smiled, still looking up at the stars. “Special? No. Just me Luke.” (Y/N) argued, Luke didn’t want to have the silly argument back and forth. He knew just how special she is. Given the chance he would show her too. After all, a girl like her deserves to be treated, loved, and respected the way she treats, loves, and respects everyone else. (Y/N) was the girl has sought after ever since Luke stopped thinking he was supposed to marry his mom when he was older. Luke shook his head and groaned at her words. “One day (Y/N/N). Just you wait, one day you’ll know just how special you truly are.” He tells her before they fell into another comfortable silent state. His words confidently spilled out. (Y/N) turned her head opposite from Luke so he couldn’t see the true smile she was wearing across her face because of him. She also hoped he couldn’t hear her heartbeat as a result of his words.

The silence stretched between them, as she snuggled further into the blanket, (y/n) suddenly became aware that Luke was only wearing a thin jacket as he shivered. She glanced over at him, her eyes meeting his. "Here," she said, pulling the blanket off from around her shoulders. "You can have this. It's getting kind of cold out here." Luke hesitated for a moment, debating on offering to share the blanket. "No, really. It's fine. I'm warm enough." She shot him a glare. “Luke Warren Hughes. I just saw you shiver.” Her tone, at best, was barely strict. He held eye contact waiting for her to continue, he could practically see the gears turning in her mind. “If you won’t take it for yourself, we will share it.” She says wrapping it around him and snuggling into his side. Luke was trying his best to calm the butterflies and his racing heart. While also fighting the mental battle on if he should shoot his shot at midnight.

(Y/N) is the girl I have wanted for years now. She is right here. Cuddling into my side, a couple moves and I could easily be her new year’s kiss. If she hates it? I just play it off as a friendly new year’s kiss. Her and Quinn have been each other’s midnight kiss before, I can play it off as if I’m filling his shoes if she questions me and she’s angry. I can do this. I can do this. I think I can do this?

As midnight was quickly approaching the air was thick with anticipation between the both of them and more people were gathering outside.

The countdowns echoed throughout the night, each one louder than the last.

Fireworks lit up the sky, casting a multitude of colors over everyone. The fireworks also casting iridescent colors across the blanket of snow on the ground. Making a beautiful picturesque scene.

Luke decided it was definitely now or never. He may not have done it 12am but right now under the colorful display of the many fireworks was perfect. He smiled down at (Y/N), feeling a warmth spread through his chest, for the first time the butterflies in his stomach calmed. He leaned in, his breath fanning her cheek. "Happy New Year, (Y/n)." She felt his lips brush against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. That is when he froze up. Her reaction to his lips barely touching her sent his heart racing. He was scared she was going to send him flying into the snow. Her best friend’s baby brother’s lips just touched her. But she didn’t move. She was waiting? Luke quickly finished his well wishes to her before she snapped out of it, "I hope this year brings you everything you wish for." Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled back, their gazes locked.

“Do it Luke. Her eyes are basically screaming, begging for you to.” why do you have to be in my head now jack dear god please shut up.

In a seconds time he was leaning back in, his left hand making its way softly to the back of her head. His fingers interlacing in her hair. (Y/N)’s breaths were slow and deep awaiting Luke’s next move. “Tell me if this isn’t something you want.” Luke swallows down the anxiety he was feeling. Mentally silencing the jack he hears in his head telling him to go for it. “Because once I do this once.. I’m going to want to do this again and again. Everyday for the next foreseeable future.” Luke’s voice was trembling in want, desire, need. All of his feelings rushing to the forefront of his mind. “Shut up and kiss me Luke.” (Y/N) sighed grasping his face pulling him to her.

As their lips touched, the grand finale of the fireworks show was set off. The energy of the grand finale matching the energy sparking off the two of them. Luke and (y/n)’s kiss was hot enough to melt the snow underneath them. The way their mouths moved in perfect harmony. The small nips Luke made against her bottom lip as he pulled away. It left them both wanting more, needing more.

“Remind me to thank my brother for being an ass.” Luke mumbles against her lips before getting lost in another languid kiss. “Lukey let’s go home. It’s the new year, I’m cold and I also want to thank Quinn, because now I know who the better kisser is...well I’ve not kissed Jack.” She pauses and makes a playful gagging noise. “And because it finally got you to make a move.” Luke’s face went more red than it already was where it was tinged from the cold. “That..what?” He was baffled by her admittance . “I had my assumptions. I’m just happy I wasn’t wrong. Now let’s goooo. I wanna go get in bed and get warm.” (Y/N) sent a wink his way.

She was hinting towards cuddling. But with how fast Luke was grabbing up the blankets that they had been sitting on and were wrapped up in, before grabbing her hand and heading to the car…She is pretty sure his mind went a different direction.

“Quinn now owes me $10, he said you didn’t like me.” (Y/N) says once they were in the car and headed down the road. “You two had a bet on if I had a crush on you or not?” Luke laughed while asking. “No we had a bet on if you even liked me as a person. Because you avoided me. He’s going to be so shocked to know that you like-like me.” She clarifies with a giggle when she says ‘like-like’. Luke rolls his eyes at the thought of his older brother being naive enough to believe he didn’t like his best friend. “So back to what you said earlier tonight…Same thing and same place next new year’s?” Luke asks her. She nods with a smile. “New tradition, with you. Starting this year.” (Y/N) confirms with a nod. “Only maybe we hang out inside until right before midnight.” She adds grabbing for Luke’s hand to wrap both of her freezing ones around. The two sat in a comfortable silence stealing quick glances, with smiles plastered across their faces, and glimmers in their eyes the rest of the way to the Hughes home.

#luke hughes request #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes #cay writes #nhl writing #writblr #nhl #nhl fics #nhl imagine #quinn hughes fic #hockey fics #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #luke hughes blurb #fic request #nhl requests #anon request #lukey pookie #hockey #nj devils fics #nj devils fluff #nj devils fic #new writers on tumblr

[yan-lorkai]

Hi, so I've read the rules, but I'm not sure how much I can ask for. Can I get a headcanon about the TWST Housewardens finding out that the GN! reader has a boyfriend? Oh, and the reader's boyfriend is just some random student NPC in their dorms. If it's too much, just some of them reacting would be cool. Thanks!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Finally done, yay! Been a while since I wrote for all the housewardens so it is a little lengthy. Hope u enjoy, darling!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Tw: Yandere content, stalking, implied violence and kidnapping.

He's been watching you this whole time, feeling his heart beat inside his chest whenever he heard your sweet laugh and saw you smiling. His feelings slowly start to grow as you become friends, but there's just one problem: You have a boyfriend. What an unpleasant surprise! Well, what a shame that your boyfriend will disappear under suspicious circumstances that will never be resolved and he will be right here by your side to comfort you :)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Azul know just what to do. He plots and plans and trap your boyfriend on a deal he can't refuse. It's a tricky deal, trickier than usual, I mean, a one in a lifetime chance, whatever it is. However you won't never know what happened to him, not when you come to Azul asking if he knows something, not when he is comforting you and rubbing your back as you cry while he pretends to be just as sad as you. As if he ever feel sad to lead your boyfriend to his demise when he can have you like this, when he can mend your heart himself and love you like you deserve. Though when you recover Azul will show you just how devotion and love truly feels. He has been deprived of it for too long, bullied and teased, and he will have you, even if you found out about the deal, even if you claim to hate him, he can bear it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Kalim is a sweetheart on the surface level, so happy all the time, so friendly. But he is oh so suffocating, always touching your arm and pulling you into a hug, kissing your cheeks and forehead and laughing when you tell him to knock it off. People always tend to assume he is your boyfriend and tell you that you too are a very cute couple, and they're always shocking when you tell them that Kalim isn't your boyfriend but just your bestie. Not yet, at least. On an intimate level, he likes to think about what to do with your actual boyfriend. People love money more than they love humans. Can he bribe him? If so, how can he guarantee that he won't go back on his word? Or should him send Jamil to do his dirty work? Mmm, so many options, either way, by the end of the month your boyfriend will disappear and you will need a friendly shoulder to lean on and Kalim is more than happy to be there for you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Idia already has Ortho investigating this student and is so easy to watch him since he is in Ignyhide. He isn't worthy your time, your love and care, he is but a little plankton, not very smart or interesting, Idia don't know what you had seen on your actual boyfriend but he is never going to tell this to your face. Instead, he invite you to his room to play and study, assuming a more softer approach about this little problem than most yanderes, telling you how your boyfriend has been acting strange and visiting another person's room for a very long period of time. He even show you a very factual and not at all fabricated camera footage as a proof. Idia considers himself a very good friend when he comfort you and wipes your angry tears, telling that you deserve better, that he can treat you better. After all, it wasn't your fault that your boyfriend was a cheater. And Idia can show you what true love is.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Vil is horrified about your taste in men. Like, really, Liebling? You love this... Thing? Well, He has to give recognition where it is due and as a Pomefiore student, your boyfriend tried to polish and better himself. Though it wasn't enough. He wouldn't be good enough for you even in thousand years. Vil likes to imagine how he would take care of you, love you, polish you. He likes to imagine how he'd let down his walls around you and told funny stories from his movies or backstage gossips. Knowing you have a boyfriend kinda of shatter those thoughts. He tried to be happy for you, he really tried but in the end he couldn't help himself. So he created a potion, so sweet and yummy, and gave it to your boyfriend. Simple as that. Having you crying on his lap was just a bonus, a bonus Vil would cherish dearly.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Malleus has what he wants. And he wants you. It's only natural that things will fall in order after he states his claim on you, every single little thing start to goes wrong in your relationship and you, stressed and sad, tells Malleus every single thing while he comforts you. Sweet words are whispered in your ears, great dreams greets you everytime you sleep and in your dreams you are always so happy by Malleus's side, exploring woods and swimming in lakes, petting sheeps and listening to the birds singing. Simple things. Great things. While you sleep, Malleus send nightmares to your boyfriend, makes him so horrified and paranoid that he can't even form coherent thoughts. He wants you and he will have you, even if he has to tear you two apart like this, since your boyfriend took to isolate and murmur to himself.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Riddle doesn't like this. He quite dislike your boyfriend a lot, he is messy, a rule breaker, a bad student, he isn't worthy your time and love. Riddle is consumed by a jealousy that make him see red, nowadays he is always collaring your boyfriend, always making him busy so you two can spend less time together. And if you come to Heartslabyu to try and spend time with him, Riddle will just lie to you and tell you he didn't do anything and has no idea about what you're talking about. Yes, he gaslight you. But he is doing that because he knows what's good to you and that is certainty not your boyfriend. Instead, he fills your head with doubts and lies, and takes you to the Unbirthday party so you can have a little fun. Savor the present moment, the little snarky jokes Riddle tells you and the delicious tea. Forget about your boyfriend before Riddle takes matters into another level.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Leona is smug. Like, really? You love this guy? He is so much better than your boyfriend, more smarter, stronger, he huffs whenever he see you two being all cute and chummy together. He should be the one holding you, kissing you, cuddling you. You are his precious mate so he put all his effort in conquering your heart and love. And when Leona is determined to do something there's nothing in the whole world that can make him stop. He plans and make so many strategies in order to be successful all the while he has Ruggie making the dirty work for him. Kill him, bribe him, whatever, Leona will make you a single person again before making you fall in love with him. Even if he has to turn your boyfriend into dust, he will without thinking twice.

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere kalim al asim #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere malleus draconia #leona x reader #yandere leona x mc #malleus x reader #yandere malleus x reader #vil x reader #yandere vil x reader #yandere azul x reader #azul x reader #kalim x reader #yandere kalim x reader #riddle x reader #yandere riddle x reader #idia x reader #yandere idia x reader

[ckret2]

Chapter 53 of human Bill Cipher not properly appreciating the fact that Mabel is his only friend on Earth:

Mabel has read a book about Bill's home dimension and is prepared to interrogate him all about where he comes from.

Bill is willing to do anything to avoid being interrogated.

(Featuring SEVEN illustrations, provided by 🌈 MABEL 💖)

####

Flatworld, from what Mabel had read, was probably literally the worst place to ever exist. 

The book was a hundred pages of an old-fashioned formal-sounding super boring guy rambling on about the most egregiously evil society Mabel had ever had the horror of reading about.

Society consisted of a bunch of geometric shapes—which in concept sounded half nerdy and half adorable—but they'd made a brutally oppressive government organized by quantity of sides, with infinite-sided circles at the top and three-sided triangles at the bottom, and one-sided lines—women—oppressed into near silence. Career options, educational opportunities, who you could love, were all determined by your sides. Irregular shapes—quadrilaterals that weren't squares, triangles that weren't equilateral, anyone with a side too long or too short—were presumed from birth to be criminally insane. Each generation had sons with one more side than their father—and they had to, because having higher-ranked sons was the only way families could climb out of poverty. When babies were born with too few or irregular sides, poor families abandoned them—or worse—and rich families put them through oft-fatal bone-snapping surgeries to regularize or increase their sides. Knowledge of the third dimension was considered heretical, and anybody claiming it was real was locked in an insane asylum.

There was a lot of mathy stuff in the book about a square meeting a magical sphere and going on educational adventures to the higher and lower dimensions; but most of it passed by her in a blur. When she'd finished reading last night, Mabel had lay in bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about dead baby shapes and fighting the urge to wake Bill up just so she could hug him; until she'd finally drifted off and woken up in her own bed.

At least, thank goodness, the bit about banning colors so lower shapes couldn't contour themselves to look like higher shapes was false. But she was sure that at least part of the story was true. And it had happened to somebody she knew. It was a lot to process.

So she processed it the way she usually did the stories that weighed on her: by creating a self-insert and pulling out her art supplies.

####

"You're drawing fan art of Flatworld?" Bill asked warily.

"I wouldn't call it fan art. I'd say it's more of a... thoughtful artistic critique. I don't think I'm a 'fan' of the second dimension," Mabel said. "No offense."

"Sure."

Mabel had designed a shapesona of herself: a pink heart with a rainbow-colored outline, a big sparkly eye, and skinny black stick limbs like Bill's. If, as Bill had said, colors weren't illegal, she didn't see any reason she couldn't be rainbow. The heart shape was maybe unconventional, but Bill hadn't said she couldn't be a heart yet, so she was sticking with it for now.

She'd honestly expected Bill to come over and interrogate her about her creation long before now. Usually, when she was doing art and he was unoccupied, he was hovering right by her, examining her work and dropping hints—some more subtle than others—that she should draw him next. But she hadn't immediately noticed when he'd silently drifted into the room, and she wasn't sure how long he'd been there before speaking up. He was still leaning on the wall, arms crossed, watching askance from halfway across the living room as Mabel worked with her crayons, as if she were playing with a chemistry set and he was trying to figure out if she was building a bomb.

"Is Flatworld really about your world?" Mabel asked. "Did you tell Edward Bishop Bishop all that stuff? With the circles and all the laws about shapes and stuff?"

Bill mulled over the question, staring into space. Mabel had never seen his face look so inexpressive before—at least, not since his first night as a captive, after he'd gotten all the screaming out and had looked too exhausted to feel. "We talked," he conceded. "I'm surprised you got your hands on it. I suppose Stanford brought it up."

Something in the back of her mind pricked up defensively—what was that supposed to mean, he was surprised she got her hands on it?—but she pushed it back down. "Yeah, he told me and Dipper about it when you guys got home yesterday," Mabel said. "But you brought it up to me first!"

"No I didn't. When?"

"A few weeks ago? You mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop."

"I don't remember that," Bill muttered. "I probably didn't think you'd make sense of it."

"Hey!"

"You didn't make sense of it! Ford had to tell you about it."

"Yeah, but—mean!" She shoved aside her drawing and started on another one, grumbling, "I could've made sense of it if I'd looked it up."

What was up with Bill today? He wasn't usually this much of a jerk. To her. Lately. Plus, she thought they'd really had a moment yesterday! But Bill had had a rough couple days. Maybe he was just tired and cranky. 

A wiser person might just leave well enough alone. But a wiser person wasn't exploding in their brain with curiosity about just how bad Bill's life had really been. There was something itching at the back of her head, had been itching since she'd woken up—something about Bill, something important, she was sure of it—but she couldn't quite put together what it was. She just needed to talk to Bill long enough to figure it out.

"So..." She glanced up from filling in a shape yellow, "were lines really executed if they didn't make noises all the time so everyone always knew where they were and they couldn't sneak up and stab anyone?"

Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes, as if the very idea was stupid. "It wasn't that extreme. Making a peace cry is like a human saying 'coming through' when they're trying to squeeze past somebody. Lines are just taught to do it in public because it's easier not to see a line, that's all."

"If they didn't, were they executed...?"

"No. They were just rude."

That was a relief. Mabel had been worried for her fellow ladies. She was plenty noisy, but she didn't think she could remember to make constant sound any time she was around other people. She turned back to coloring her newest drawing, but watched Bill out of the corner of her eye. "Is it true that rich people killed almost all of their babies by giving them surgery to break their sides?"

The corner of Bill's mouth curled in a sneer. "Do I look like a pediatric surgeon?"

"Um." Not a welcome question. She tried to backtrack to something softer. "So, in the second dimension, the outside of your body is just your outline and your guts are everything inside the outline, right?"

He gave her a wary look. "Yeah."

"So your bow tie is basically in your stomach."

Bill sucked in a deep breath; but quickly caved in to the need to be the most correct person in the room. "More like around my esophagus, but. Sure."

"So, where did you wear it when you were back in the second dimension? Was it on your side? Did you have to wear two so people could see them from both sides—"

"I didn't need a bow tie then."

Mabel stared at him. "What do you mean, you didn't 'need' it? What do you need it for now?"

Bill ignored the question. "You know, I didn't think Flatworld was an interesting enough book to deserve this much attention! Especially not from you. You like fun stories." It felt oddly like he was criticizing her for having read it.

"Well—yeah, but it's about your home! That makes it fun!"

Bill raised his brows.

"Right? Doesn't it?"

"Kid." Bill laughed condescendingly. "Don't give me that. You read an entire book. In the summer. About math. With a downer ending where the narrator goes insane and gets locked up. That's some people's idea of a fun time, but I know it's not yours."

Maybe "fun" was the wrong word—but it was still important. She was glad she'd read it. She'd cared about it. She'd cared enough to know Bill was describing it wrong. "That's not what happened. The square got locked up because he kept telling everybody the third dimension's real."

"Like I said! He went insane!"

"But he's not insane. Everyone says he is, but he's right about the third dimension! It's everyone else who's stupid!"

"So what," Bill said. "The things he knows mean he'll never be able to see the world the way other shapes do, and no matter what he does he'll never be happy with his home. If that's not insanity, what is?"

Last year, she'd heard Bill agree when Gideon called him insane. She'd always wondered. "Is that why you're insane?"

Bill shot Mabel a furious look. That was the wrong thing to say. "Shooting Star—"

(Oh no, she thought, he's using my full name.)

"—what's with the third degree." Bill crossed the room to lean on the other side of the table. He gave her the guarded glare of a guilty suspect facing down a cop in an interrogation room—and trying to figure out whether he could kill the cop before he was stopped. "What do you think you're trying to dig up?"

"I'm not trying to 'dig up' anything," Mabel said. "I just want to learn more about you!"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you do! Who doesn't wanna know all about me! And right after I trusted you yesterday! Do you think you're the first person to start digging into my history? 'Hey, does anyone know what made Bill Cipher so crazy'?" Bill laughed bitterly. " You're not even the first Pines to try it. Not even the second."

"That's not what I'm trying to do!" said Mabel, right before it dawned on her that that was exactly what she was trying to do.

"Right. I'm sure whatever you learn will make a nice two-page spread in Journal 5. Another secret you and Fordsy can add to your Mysteries, huh? Think he'll draw the dead babies?"

She thought back to Portland—to asking Ford what had made Bill so awful. I think if anyone’s ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Mabel shook her head. No. She didn't want to be that. "I'm not Grunkle Ford's spy, I'm your friend. I just—I just want to understand you—"

"Yeah, and the 'friends' who understand you are the most dangerous kind." Bill laughed harshly. "Your uncle and brother couldn't figure me out! And Sixer's been trying for years! So what makes you think YOU can?"

He was calling her stupid. He'd been calling her stupid all day. That was why he was so surprised she'd read the book.

"You—shut up!" She wadded up her latest drawing and flung it in Bill's face. (He snatched out of midair.) "All I did was read a book I thought was important to you, you jerk! I thought you'd like that!"

She hadn't meant for that waver to enter her voice. But she was exhausted from too little sleep and worrying about dead baby shapes and worrying about Bill's fear of death and worrying about what Ford had said about not giving Bill a second chance, and now Bill was being a jerk, and maybe he was just exhausted and upset too, but he was treating her like she was stupid—and there was that pathetic little waver.

But it made Bill pause in his onslaught; for a moment, he averted his gaze. Still, he said, "Maybe if you'd thought to ask—"

"You were asleep! I was being nice! And letting you sleep! In my bed!"

"But—"

"Just go away!" She pointed at the doorway.

Bill's face hardened again. "Fine!" He flung his hands in the air and stomped from the room. "Who wants to hang out with you when you're in such a bad mood, anyway."

Mabel glared at her stupid drawings so she didn't have to watch Bill's stupid back as he left.

Why had she bothered?

When Bill was out of sight, she dropped back onto her chair, pulled her sweater over her face, crossed her arms on the table, and buried her head in them.

####

Bill didn't think to smooth out the paper Mabel had flung at him until he was out of the room.

On one side she'd drawn Bill—properly triangular—with an expression that he thought was supposed to be fear and on the other side several angry-looking shapes, pentagons and hexagons, colored gray and black, being led by a pale figure shaped like a human skull and wielding a scythe; and between them, a bright pink heart, standing in front of Bill protectively, hands on its "hips," glaring down the would-be assailants.

The corners of Bill's mouth sagged down.

####

The bell rang and the shapes began filing out of class, muttering to each other about how they thought they'd done on the test. As the triangle cheerfully left the room, the teacher caught him by the arm again to pull him over. "Just a minute," she said. "I want a word with you."

Oh, he bet she did. Breezily, he said, "Sure thing! What is it?"

"Who was the first triangular president?"

"Wh— Th—" He spluttered indignantly. "There's been like—seven of them."

"Nine. And I'm only asking about the first one."

"How should I know!"

"You knew an hour ago."

He sputtered again. "That was— That was a multiple choice test! And it was an hour closer to when I'd studied! And I can focus better in the classroom! You can't expect me to remember anything in the hallway. You're using intimidation tactics. How could anyone focus under these conditions—"

"I don't know what you're doing," the teacher said, "or how you're doing it. Maybe I never will. But..." She sighed, and the anger seemed to leak out of her, and that only made him more nervous. "But whatever you're doing—you won't be able to do it forever. What will you do when you're out in the real world and you didn't learn anything in school?"

Her pity was worse than being hated had been. At least when he was hated, he knew she only looked down on him because she had something against him. What did he do with pity? With concerned warnings about the "real world"? He'd never heard anybody use the phrase "the real world" as anything but a threat. He hoped he was never out in the real world.

"Who cares! I'll never need any of this!" He should have shut up there. He didn't: "You're just jealous that me and my family make a million times more lying to everyone than you'll ever get trying to teach them the truth!"

His teacher gasped in shock; but before she could say anything, he was halfway down the hall with no intention of slowing down.

The next day, he stayed home, and his mom visited the principal. The day after that, he had a new teacher.

####

He was stupid. He knew that. He didn't know when he'd gotten stupid—if it was because he'd started touring so much and missing classes, or if he'd always been dumb and just didn't notice it before he registered just how often he was using his all-seeing eye to pick up answers that other kids couldn't see. It had crept up on him. But there it was. He was stupid, and he was too stupid to figure out what to do about it.

There was a big difference between being able to see everything, and actually knowing anything. And he might be all-seeing, but an idiot like him would never be all-knowing.

####

A trillion years later, he still didn't remember the name of the first triangular president. And look how far he'd gotten without it.

Lunch was toast and peanut butter. The toaster was the only source of heat he could use without having to ask his captors for access; and peanut butter and bread were the most nutritious foods he could reach without asking his captors to open a cabinet or fridge. He was sick of toast and peanut butter.

He wasn't about to ask Mabel to help him get lunch.

Well. He'd succeeded. He'd known just the right thing to say to get Mabel to lay off and drop the topic. Did he feel accomplished?

He stared out the window as he ate—there were hazy gray clouds on the horizon, beyond the trees, slowly inching closer—and he tried not to look at the picture Mabel had flung at him.

####

Mabel felt dumb about being upset that Bill thought she was dumb.

Because of course he did. Sure, he liked her art and he liked dance music and games without rules; sure, he was a willing student when it came to stuff like making friendship bracelets or artistically mixing sprinkles; sure, he was a weirdo fun guy; but he was also a Smarty McSmartypants, just like Dipper or Ford. And Mabel was the Girl Dipper who brought home C's. And even a weirdo fun Smarty wouldn't want to hang out for long with someone who couldn't keep up with nerd talk. He probably just... put up with her for as long as he could stand pretending he took her seriously, but he'd finally lost his patience...

And shown his true, jerky colors again.

Maybe Ford and Dipper were right about him; maybe he couldn't really change.

Except... there was something he'd said. And right after I trusted you yesterday. When he'd cried in front of her. When he'd told her about his fear of death.

He was being a jerk because he thought she'd betrayed him. But by reading a book?! Why couldn't he ever just explain himself? Did he think whatever was bothering him was obvious, and she was stupid for not figuring it out?

Something she almost but didn't quite remember thudded like a drum inside her brain. Dum-dum-dum. Dum-dum-dome.

From the entryway, Bill called, "Hey, star girl. I—"

He stopped in the doorway. Mabel had taped 28 pieces of paper together, drawn on a door knob, written "DOOR" at the top, and taped it across the doorway into the living room. Irritably, Bill said, "It doesn't work like that. This is obviously paper."

"Bill," Mabel grumbled. "Go away."

"No. I'm gonna say something to you."

He didn't phrase that like he was giving her a choice in the matter; but all the same, she said, "I don't wanna hear it."

"You know that horror story about a bride with a velvet ribbon tied around her neck, and her head falls off and rolls down the stairs when her husband unties it?"

She did. She and Dipper had read a book of scary stories to each other on Halloween a few years ago while waiting for it to be late enough to go trick-or-treating. In spite of herself, he'd piqued her curiosity. She reluctantly turned to look at him. "Yeah? So?"

Bill was leaning in the doorway, head tilted against the doorframe so he could see Mabel around the paper door curtain. "That's why I wear a bow tie."

Mabel blinked. "Wait—if you didn't, your head would fall off? What part of you is your head? How did it come off? Were you decapitated? Did you get decapitated for knowing about the third dimension—?"

"It doesn't keep my head on; it keeps my skin on."

Mabel's nose wrinkled. "Gross! How?"

"Remember how you said my outline is my skin and all my organs are inside the outline," Bill said. "That didn't change when we left the second dimension! We had to get exoskeletons on our top and bottom sides so solids like you can't stick you fingers in our guts. My bow tie keeps it tied in place."

"Whoa." So that was why they hadn't seen Bill's organs before. "Do you ever take it off?"

"Mostly when I'm eating!" He knocked on the doorframe. "So can I come in now?"

Of course. He'd been using information to buy his way back into her good graces. (No—that was what somebody who didn't think Bill deserved a second chance would think. He was making up for earlier by answering one of her questions about him.)

She took a deep breath, turned to face Bill, and said, "You didn't talk to me like a friend earlier."

"I—" Bill grimaced, looked at the ceiling for help, and conceded, "I mean—It's how I talk to my friends, but all right, I know you're not used to that—"

"Nobody should be used to that!" Mabel said. "What would Love Bunny say?"

"Wh—?! I— Th— You—" His voice cracked as it jumped higher, "What do I care what a cartoon rabbit thinks about—"

"What. Would. She. Say."

Bill's face screwed up in agony. He crossed his arms. "Ugh."

"Biiill?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Bill said, "She'd say my breath smells like I've been eating mean beans."

"Aaand?"

"I'm not going to say it. I won't say it."

"And you need to eat your nice rice!"

Bill let out a long, slow sigh.

"Say it!"

"This is my penance," Bill muttered toward his feet. "This is my penance. This is fair." He took a breath. "And... I need to eat my nice rice."

Mabel nodded. He'd confessed his sins.

"I think we're out of nice rice," Bill said, "but I've had the peanut butter of kindness and the toast of remorse. Good enough?"

She considered it. "Yeah. You can come in."

Bill batted aside the paper door curtain and ducked into the room. 

He sat across the table from Mabel and set down the paper she'd chucked at him amongst her others. Mabel glanced at the drawing, embarrassed of it now; but Bill didn't say anything about it.

He just propped his cheek against his hand and started looking over her other art.

Mabel sat there with her hands under her legs, watching his spotlight eyes rove over the table, feeling like she was waiting for a teacher to grade a poster she'd made for class. He saw a stop sign red octagon in sunglasses that was labeled "Bill's parole officer" and snorted. She wasn't sure if it was an amused snort or a derogatory snort. His gaze stopped on her attempt to figure out how Flatworlder anatomy worked, and didn't move farther. She'd probably gotten everything wrong, hadn't she?

She couldn't stand waiting for him to pass judgment on her art. "You think they look dumb, don't you."

Bill took a moment to reply. He didn't look up from her drawings. "I don't think you're dumb, Shooting Star."

"You think I'm dumber than Dipper and Grunkle Ford."

Bill winced. "I don't." At her dubious look, Bill amended, "Only Stanford! And that barely counts, all humans are dumber than Stanford. It doesn't mean I think you're dumb-dumb"

"Could've fooled me," Mabel muttered.

"You bet! I'm good at fooling people. All I have to do is say things I don't mean that make people feel the way I want." His voice was flat and matter-of-fact. "I wanted you to feel like the conversation wasn't worth it. That's all."

She stared at him. "By letting me know you think I'm stupid?!" She chucked a crayon at his face. "You could have just told me you didn't want to talk about Flatworld!" Her voice was getting that stupid waver again. "If I'd known, I would have dropped it! I didn't want to upset you!"

"I wasn't upset, it's just a stupid thing to complain about! It's just a dumb book! It'd—it'd take a real loser to be bothered by talking about a dumb book! I'm not..." He sighed harshly. "I know you weren't trying to get on my nerves, kid. It'd mess up your sticker chart." (Mabel hadn't even realized he knew about her sticker chart.) Almost inaudibly, he added, "M'sorry."

She'd never heard him apologize before.

She let out a slow breath. "Biiill. I don't think you're a loser."

He muttered something she couldn't make out as he flipped his hood on and pulled it down over his burning face. "Forget it. Move on. It's in the past!"

"If you're so embarrassed—"

"Not embarrassed!"

She chucked another crayon at his chest. "Then why are you telling me this now?"

Bill shut his eyes; took a deep breath; and, with a look of solemn dignity, and no small amount of pain, he said, "Because. Teddy Tender says. Our friends can't help us feel better if we don't tell them why we feel bad." He almost, almost managed to say it without sounding sarcastic.

Mabel burst out laughing. Bill pulled his hood lower.

Bill didn't even like Teddy Tender—he thought he was the stick in the mud of the Color Critters—and he certainly wasn't actually trying to follow Teddy's friendship lessons. He was just... saying something he didn't mean to make Mabel feel the way he wanted. And he wanted her to feel better.

No matter what anyone else said, he could change. And he was changing.

"Apology accepted," Mabel said. "Gold star!" She peeled one off a nearby sticker sheet and held it out.

Bill eyed it, like a man so hungry he was too nauseous to eat eyeing a pizza; and then snatched it from her and stuck it in the middle of his hoodie.

Mabel said, "And... I guess I'm sorry for getting all diggy about your home world." Even if she hadn't known it was bothering him, she probably should've guessed, shouldn't she? With how crabby he'd gotten. "I just got all excited and curious and... kinda worried about you after reading that book?" She sighed. "I understand if you don't wanna talk about it. You probably hated your dimension."

"What? He lurched forward with the vehemence of his denial—"Of course I don't hate my dimension!" Mabel leaned away at the sudden rage that had flared up in his eyes; but it died just as quickly and Bill immediately reeled himself back in, sitting back, crossing his arms: "I mean, come on, kid, use your head: you read a book about a culture. We're talking about an entire dimension. Would you hold a grudge against Jupiter if an ant bit you on Earth?"

Even as casually as he played it off, Mabel was sure he hadn't meant anything as calm and measured as claiming it was technically irrational to hate an entire dimension. He meant—emphatically, with his whole heart behind it—that he didn't hate his home dimension, at all.

Then why didn't he want to talk about it? (Then why had he destroyed it? Or was not hating it just another fiction he'd made up because he'd prefer that reality? Or was the destruction itself a lie? He hadn't mentioned it once since they'd started talking about Flatworld. Or did he think she didn't know about that and didn't want her to know? Or...)

Something had been churning in her subconscious since she woke up, and now—watching Bill ball up around himself as he squirmed around the things he didn't want to say—it finally dawned on her. Two words. Another piece of the Axolotl's poem. She tried to hold the words in her head until she could write them down, repeating them over and over—Misses home. Misses home.

Quietly, she asked, "Then... don't you want to remember it?"

His face spasmed, like it was nearly cracking in two—and then smoothed out. His face was blank. He didn't answer for a moment. "The last time I told a human more than two sentences about where I'm from... he gave me the universe's most depressing geometry textbook."

Oh. Maybe Bill was following Teddy Tender's friendship advice. "That's because you were talking to a boring old-timey math teacher, duh."

He laughed wryly. "You may have a point!"

If Bill assumed anybody prying into his history was either looking for the reason something was wrong with him, or publishing a whole book about the super bad parts... No wonder he hadn't wanted to talk to her. "So you didn't dislike Flatworld? You just dislike the book?"

Bill grimaced. "Did you read Eddie's biography?"

"No?"

####

As soon as he'd buckled himself into his seat for the drive to Northwest Manor, Dipper read the summary on the back cover of Flatworld, and then the paragraph-long author biography underneath it:

Edward B. Bishop, born in 1838 in England, was an accomplished mathematician, writer, theologian, and closet occultist, as well as a professor at the esteemed University of Fancyton. He published twelve books, the last of which was Flatworld in 1884. After sentencing his square protagonist to a two-dimensional asylum for preaching of the existence of the third dimension, he himself succumbed to an ironically similar fate: three months after publication, he was committed to an asylum for insisting that two-dimensional alien invaders intended to conquer the Earth and were persecuting him for revealing their existence, a delusion he maintained until his death from sleep deprivation in 1886. His most enduring legacy is inventing the margarita glass, which he claimed came to him in a dream. 

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Ouch."

####

"Never mind, don't worry about it," Bill said. "But no. I didn't like the book."

"You poor thing! All this time you've been homesick for the second dimension, but the only things humans talk about is the bad stuff!"

"Don't call me that."

"Do you want to talk about the non-depressy stuff instead? Like..." Mabel wracked her brain for something nice she'd read in the book. She winced. "Uh... I'm sure there's something. You could choose the topic?"

Bill didn't look directly at her. He just looked over all her drawings again. "Tell me why you want to know so badly."

It was basically the same question he'd asked earlier—what's with the third degree—but his tone was different. Mabel swallowed hard and repeated, "Because... I'm your friend. It's crazy that we've been friends for like a month and I barely know a-ny-thing about who you are or how you grew up! By now, I'd usually know about a friend's family, favorite subject, favorite animal, opinion on glitter, and biggest life dream! Plus all the stuff humans have in common—like, 'do you breathe?'"

This time, Bill didn't argue with her answer. (He could have called her a liar. A month ago, she had just been trying to find out what was wrong with him. But this version of the truth she'd made up was better.) "You already know I'm pro-glitter in all contexts and my life's work is to throw an eternal party. What else really matters?"

"Those are the two most important questions," Mabel said seriously. Tentatively, she asked, "Did you have glitter in the second dimension?" He'd already reassured her that they'd had color, but it was hard to imagine glitter in such a bleak world.

"Sure."

Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness."

She looked around at the morning's art production, pulled over the first drawing she'd done of her shapesona, and grabbed a bottle of glue to draw a thin line around the heart.

Bill watched as Mabel carefully sprinkled several separate colors of glitter on the line of glue, like a master chef adding a precise amount of spice to a gourmet recipe, to create a glitter rainbow gradient; and then he slowly sat up and leaned toward the table again. "So, who's this freak?"

Mabel gave him an exasperated look. She decided he'd meant "freak" neutrally; but she'd clearly labeled the heart "ME IN FLATWORLD," she thought it was pretty obvious who this freak was.

But Bill cheerfully went on, "He's the most hideously disfigured shape I've ever seen."

"Hey!"

"I'm not joking, it hurts to look at this guy. At least he's symmetrical, but woof."

"She's not a guy! She's supposed to be me in Flatworld," Mabel insisted. "She's a powerful lady and I think she's beautiful." She paused. "Can a heart be a girl?" Lines looked boring, but Flatworld said that girls were all lines and all other shapes were boys. (Or were they? When they'd talked at the mall, Bill had been very clear that he considered himself a triangle instead of male or female, which scuttled the "all polygons are male" concept. Maybe Edward Bishop Bishop had made that part up?)

"She can be anything she wants," Bill said firmly. "I don't see any gender cops around here, do you?"

Good point. "And when there's no cops around, anything's legal."

Bill laughed. "Hey, I like that."

"Grunkle Stan says it!"

"Wise man." Bill leaned forward further across the table and tapped a finger on the deep cleft at the top of the heart. "Personally, I'm more worried about that agonizing-looking birth defect. I'm surprised she survived past infancy!"

Mabel glared at him, but she supposed she couldn't argue. A heart was a pretty irregular shape. And according to Flatworld, almost all irregular shapes were executed in childhood or else imprisoned in adulthood, since they thought irregular shapes would grow up to be depraved, imbecilic criminals—

"Wait," Mabel said. "Wait. Last year, when I called you an isosceles freak—"

Bill cut in, "It was 'monster,' but go on!"

"Was that, like..." Mabel's voice dropped to a whisper, "a slur on Flatworld?"

Bill fought to keep his face straight as he decided how to respond. He went for the funniest answer. "Yes."

Mabel clapped her hands over her mouth and squeaked, "Nooo!"

"It's actually pretty impressive a human managed to come up with it!"

"I'M SORRYYY, augh I didn't know!"

Over her anguished whines, Bill went on, "It's just a good thing you didn't say 'scalene'! I would've had to wash your mouth out with drain cleaner!"

Mabel had pulled the collar of her sweater over her face. From within Sweater Town, she asked, "Was that the first thing I ever said to you?"

Bill choked back a laugh. "Yeah, it was."

She squealed in embarrassment and slid under the table.

"Heck of a first impression, star girl!"

"i'm sorryyy."

Bill reached under the table to pat the top of her head. "Ahhh, it was funny. Get up here." 

As she climbed back into her seat, Bill added, "I'm getting back at you now, I'm not done making fun of your medical miracle yet. You know what she'd look like as a human? A headless, neckless body with an eyeball shoved six inches down her esophagus." He paused thoughtfully. "Actually... that sounds kinda cute."

"Eww, Bill."

"It is, it's cute. Like a clumsy puppy with a neurological disorder! I guess that's how the hideous Miss Heart here must look to humans!"

Mabel looked over her art again, wondering if she should change her shapesona, considering Bill's reaction to it. 

So, maybe she was creating a freak. She didn't see any shape cops around here. She kept drawing. "I'd be fine," she said. "You like weird freaks! You'd keep me safe."

A stricken look crossed his face. He was momentarily silent as he watched Mabel start another picture. And then, as though he were only considering it for the first time, he said, "Yeah. I guess I would."

His gaze drifted to the wrinkled picture of Mabel's shapesona standing protectively in front of Bill. "Freaks can't afford to tear each other down."

####

(THIS is the chapter that's been giving me hell the last few weeks. Months. Last few months. I'm so glad to finally have it out, and I hope y'all enjoyed!! This chapter probably brings up a lot more questions than it actually answers—and completely different questions based on whether or not you've read Flatland lol—so I can't wait to hear what y'all think.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #mabel pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

[kokomyass]

JJK Characters ☆ That time of the month...

JJK x Fem!Reader

Genre: ☁️

Trigger warnings ⚠️: swearing, crack

featuring: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna

synopsis: in which, the jjk men are out buying you supplies for your period, some with more experience that others....

notes!: in sukuna's part, he is true form and has like a kinda palace thing going on yk....

a/n: thought of this idea, liked it and wrote it!!! I hope you enjoy 💜🍇💜🍇

~•☆•~~•☆•~~•☆•~~•☆•~~•☆•~~•☆•~~•☆•~

Gojo

"Heyyy babe....so about those pads you wanted me to buy....you kinda failed to tell me that there are pads for every colour of the fucking rainbow!"

You had to use all your will power in you to not start laughing at Satoru through the phone, which would consequently lead him to hold a grudge.

"Satoru, I told you to get the ultra maxi pads with wings, remember? How difficult is that?" you nagged as you heard a frustrated groan through the phone.

"Well which colour is that? Cause there's no way I'm reading allat-"

"Gojo!!" you didn't usually call him by his first name it was an easy way to show your annoyance.

"Okay sorry!! Well, Y/N, there are like 5 different ultra maxi pads! How the hell am I meant to know which-"

"Satoru, with wings."

You heard the line go silent as you heard rustling assuming he had picked the pad up.

"So...um I found it....I'm gonna get myself out of this aisle because thanks to you I embarrassed myself in front of all these experienced women."

All you can do is giggle at Gojo's dramatic ass.

Nanami

You hear the door to your house open as you lay in bed curled over from the pain your cramps are giving you.

You hear your husbands soft footstep approach your bed as you open your eyes slightly to see him bent over cupping your face careful not to wake you up to violently.

"Hello sweetheart, how are you feeling?" you hear his deep, smooth voice whisper out.

"Well...I feel like shit, but now that your here I wanna cuddle with you. It'll make me feel better."

Nanami chuckles as he sat on the bed, extending his arm out to let you cuddle with him.

"Just to let you know, I went out to buy some night and day pads, tampons just in case your in the mood to use them and your favourite snacks to keep you going. They are all here if you need." Nanami said, as he gently brushed your hair as he felt you squeeze tighter.

Nanami looked down as he heard sniffling later realising you were crying after looking down at your face.

"Honey what's wrong? Did I miss something?" Nanami's heart dropped.

"No, the absolute opposite. You always get everything right. Nanami, have I ever told you how madly I am in love with you?"

"Frequently."

Geto

You had sent Geto out to do some period shopping and by that you meant shopping for pads/tampons and snacks.

When you were on your period, you were EXTREMELY snappy and emotional. This time of the month was one Geto feared all the time. One small thing could make you flip out.

"Hey babe! I'm home!"

You were sat on the couch wrapped in blankets as you watched TV.

"I got your stuff babe, snacks, pads and all..." Geto placed a kiss on your head before sitting next you. You took the bag from him searching for your favourite sweets.

"Thank yo-...Where are my skittles, Geto?"

Geto's heart dropped. He had completely forgotten to buy that and he regretted his life choices, but it was too late because you had already started crying.

"Ughh, I really wanted those skittles...why do you always forget Geto!" you sobbed angrily as Geto pulled you apologising profusely.

"I'll go out and buy more baby....I'm sorry...."

"NO. I WON'T WANT THEM ANYMORE!" you shouted at Geto as you stood up angrily walking to you bedroom as Geto sighed letting his head fall back on the couch, choosing to let you come to him in your own time.

Time Skip

You had guiltily shuffled out of the bedroom and sat next to Geto leaning into him as he let out a sigh of relief.

"So, you feeling better??"

"Yeah, sorry babe....I overreacted. My favourite sweet isn't even skittles..."

Toji

"So babe, what size is your pussy again?"

Toji was a man with no shame and clearly no brain. He went out to get pads for you forgetting to ask what type you needed.

"Wh- Toji!! How many people are in that aisle!?" You heard Toji chuckle at your very valid question, given what he had just said.

"Princess, listen, that doesn't matter right now. Just tell me your fucking pussy size."

Before you could scold Toji and maybe educate him you heard another woman's voice through the phone.

"Um sir, just to let you know you are rather loud...and pad sizes are based on the amount of flow not-"

"Did I ask?" Toji spat.

The woman's mouth shut as she spluttered trying to say something back before Toji diverted his attention back to you.

"There is like ultra large....do you want that cause I know how big-"

"Toji don't you dare finish that sentence. Just get me large ones please...and for the record it is based on your flow, so you had no right shut that poor woman down like that."

"I call it what I want to call it, and that's pussy size."

Choso

You currently had a stuttering Choso on the phone who was clearly pretending he wasn't embarrassed.

You had sent him out to get some snacks, hinting that it was your time of the month but you didn't ask him to get pads or tampons fearing it would be too much for him to handle.

"So....um...Y/N, do you....erm do you want me-"

"Choso, baby, please spit it out." you giggled at how flustered he was as it wasn't a common occurrence.

"Do you need...pads...?" he whispered the last bit so you could barely hear.

"What was that?"

"...pads...." you had made out that he said pads.

You let out a loud laughter that could be heard through the phone, shown by the fact Choso was hushing you.

"Y/N, stop laughing! Yes or no? If yes, what type?" you could tell he was trying to be vague.

"Choso you are so cute, yes I would like some please can I have some night pads? I have enough days ones."

"Okay! I got this....okay see you and love you!!" he cut the phone after chanting to himself that he had the power to pick one product off an aisle.

All you could do was chuckle and feel warm at how much he cared for you...even if it was embarrassing for him....

Sukuna

You were giving Sukuna his daily massage in his throne room despite your cramps from your period. You didn't want to tell Sukuna that you were on your period because whenever you did he became a bit too overprotective in a murderous way....

However the cramps were unbearable.

"My Lord...May I be seated?" Sukuna's head whipped around and looked up and down your body before nodding slightly, tapping his leg indicating for you to sit there.

You sat down on Sukuna's crossed legs resting your head on his broad chest as you sighed squinting your eyes at the pain.

Two of Sukuna's arms were wrapped around your waist whilst the other two were on the floor. He tighten his grip on your waist as if he knew you were experiencing pain.

Suddenly a sharp knock was heard at the door.

"You may enter." Sukuna's gruff voice sounded out.

"I have the pads and tampons and foods you requested, Lord Sukuna." Uraume entered with a box placing them at your feet. Leaving promptly.

"It is your time of the month, is it not?"

You eyes widened as you looked back at him to see him looking down at you.

"Y-Yes my lord...how did you know?"

"I keep track in my own manner." you didn't even bother to ask how that was.

You knew Sukuna wasn't exactly the loving type, but you couldn't help but wrap your arms around his neck.

"Thank you, my Lord!" he places one of his hands on your back not saying a word just letting out a huff. After a while he mumbles out.

"It's alright woman...."

~•☆•~~•☆•~~•☆•~~•☆•~~•☆•~~•☆•~~•☆•~

a/n: I hope that was good and all those true form sukuna fans out there hmu 😜

love you!! 🍇💜🍇💜

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