#lmao did not expect this to be so dark and need so many warnings

[namazunomegami]

Mélange

Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x gn!reader

Synopsis: Sometimes humans are not above animals. Sometimes they burn to fulfill the same basic needs and not strive for more in the moment. A full belly, safety, procreation. What happens when all three of them need to be satisfied? Tinged with spice. Under the influence of an unknown substance.

CW: aphrodisiac, dubcon, slight somnophilia, feral and animalistic Yuta, he has cannibalistic thoughts, licking, lovebites, scratching, biting, slight pain, handjob, premature ejaculation, fingering, Reader can feel Yuta’s ring during fingering, slight dacryphilia if you squint, implied multiple rounds, porn with feelings, good old unprotected sex + creampie, both Reader and Yuta are ultra possessive in their own toxic way <33

WC: 3.6k

Credits: my dearest @notveryrussian for proofreading this mess and doing a bit of rework on the tenses <33 the cannibalcore pics are from pinterest

Song rec: needles and pins by deftones and gibson girl by ethel cain both give a nice vibe to the fic as we slowly transition from Yuta's POV to Reader's POV

A/N: Can't believe I'm posting my first one shot here 🥹 After so many unsuccessful attempts to wrap up multichaptered fics, at least, this one messy smut got finished. My first ever finished fic 🥹 And the first to get completed in a relatively short time. Yes, a week is a short time for me. And happy holidays to y’all, this is gonna be the last fic in this year so expect only shitposts from me from now on lmao.

Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

Minors do not interact or else I'm gonna go apeshit, also a seperate warning for heavy dark content as usual. If there's anything mentioned in the tags that you're not comfortable with, this is not your fic.

Many sorcerers envy the title of special grade. Yuta thinks these people deserve a separate Naraka in Hell. They don’t realize the immense responsibility, they can’t fathom the challenges, the danger of the missions. The threat those curses pose. They only care about the power he carries.

During today’s mission, Yuta realized he’s not entirely an unstoppable force. Even someone like him is weak to certain fighting styles, he can’t counter everything with his wide range of copied techniques. This curse’s grade was well deserved. Whenever the katana slashed deep into it’s skin, a strange kind of gas was emitted from the wounds. Though he eventually exorcised the curse, he did breathe in the weird, sweet-smelling substance. The scent was hard to resist, it felt like the perfect mixture of all his favorite smells, inviting and comforting. However, he trusted his body to withstand the temptation, reinforced to near perfection with cursed energy and the usage of reversed cursed technique.

There was no problem until he finished reporting back to the higher ups and was on the way home. Maybe it was just the fatigue, the late summer heat, the humidity of the night but something made him feel weird. Almost sick. A thin veil of sweat glistened on his skin, his cheeks, ears and upper body were flushed. His chest was heaving, a burning, aching sensation tormented him between his legs, throbbing with a synced rhythm to his heartbeat. All his thoughts narrowed down to one single, inherently primal thing. A need. A hunger.

Shame and confusion swelled inside his chest. How can he lose his composure? How can he want it so badly? If he wasn’t so wired for monogamy, he would have fucked anyone who moved. And with every passing minute the feeling was getting worse. Descending slowly to the brink of madness. Hell, he was close to wheezing and growling like a rabid dog. He already had no patience to find the right key to the door. He could break that shit, he definitely could. He had no idea why, but he could stop himself from doing that. Maybe the insane price to get it fixed.

But the comfort of his home isn’t helping him. He can’t calm down, he can’t unwind. On the contrary, everything intensifies the strange urge in him to act territorial. But it’s only natural when he grew up feeling like he didn’t have anything he could call his own, whether it’s a material possession or a person. Every comprehensible thought vanished from his head. Leaving only the instincts. The need to claim. He immediately goes to the bedroom, not even bothering to have a quick shower or a light meal.

He gazes at your sleeping form, unknowing and peaceful. Innocent and vulnerable like a newborn lamb and he’s… he wouldn’t compare himself to a wolf, he’s a more vicious predator than that, all starved and keen on capturing its prey. Your limbs are thrown in every direction on the mattress, a thin, silk blanket barely concealing your body, but you’re hugging a some of it to your chest. Like you’re missing him, finding solace in the way the material is touching you. The windows are wide open, hoping that the night air can cool you down.

Yuta caught himself almost drooling at the sight. He can’t stop himself, he can’t fight the shameless thoughts plaguing him. The need, the want is stronger than what he deems right in the moment. His steps are quiet, that part of the floor that normally creaks is now completely silent. He looms over you, like a sinful, ungodly spirit, your very own kanashibari that’s bound to you. His weight is pressing down on the mattress ever so slightly, caging your form between his arms. He breathes in the smell of your freshly showered skin. A mixture of heady vanilla, milk and honey. He mindlessly licks a stripe up your thigh, wanting to taste you, to bite you, to tear out a big chunk of your flesh with his teeth to satisfy this torturous hunger he feels for you. More than anything he wants to devour you. Completely. Have you all for himself. The thought alone makes his dick so hard it’s outright painful.

He ascends towards your hips, leaving soft yet wet kisses that make you twitch in your sleep. Yuta swears that he’s more sensitive to all stimuli, his senses are working at their maximum capacity. He’s able to feel every morsel, every particle of you. The soft peach fuzz, the bumps, the ridges of your stretch marks, their pearl-like glistening texture flowing on the surface of your skin like a river. The material of your shorts, loose and thin, he can feel the seams on the band of your underwear through the fabric. Where the bones bend, where flesh folds. Your smell. Not just from the shower gel and the laundry detergent but your natural scent, so strong he believes it’s some kind of weird pheromone that’s driving him wild. To the point he almost considers nudging his nose between your legs, just like dogs do when they smell blood there.

Maybe it’s not entirely wrong to claim you this way. He can spare you from this more primal side of him, you won’t get to see it and despise him for it. It’s enough if he deals with the shame alone, self-deprecation is his ultimate talent afterall. But that can wait until after he finished soothing this excruciating itch. Because now the last remnant of his resolve goes out the window.

He pulls up your shirt all the way up to your chest. His shirt to be exact. It makes his heart flutter, a piece of him enveloping you, makes the boundaries between your sense of selves blend and blur. The thought of you using his stuff as your own feels so right, so promising.

He practically glues his face to the expanse of your stomach. The flesh is so soft between his teeth, feels so good to bite on it, so easy to suck on it until the skin turns a deep purple.

And maybe… maybe he can lower his crotch onto your knees. Just a little. Just for a little friction…

You stir, opening your eyes slowly, tiredness and confusion are still heavy on your expression. And then you feel teeth nipping at your stomach, fingers digging into the dips of your hips firmly, some wetness here and there along your leg.

Your first response is fear.

You start to squirm and fuss, kicking your legs up in the air, not even thinking about who’s doing this to you until Yuta grips your shoulders and pushes you back into the sheets, keeping you still by the weight of his own body, shushing you. You can feel his nails penetrating the skin, branding the crescent Moon itself into your flesh.

“It’s me, don’t panic.”

You’d recognize this voice anywhere, but you blinked a few times just to clear your vision. The striking white of his coat is easy to spot, even in the dimly lit darkness of the room.

“Yuta…?”

Your voice is an ode, a blessing. Even when it’s hoarse and faint after waking up. He bends down and kisses your temple, nuzzling into your hairline, breathing in your scent. His body feels oddly warm, almost overly so, radiating through you. Through your spine, to the very center of your being and that’s when you notice that you’re a little bit… hot and bothered. What has he done to you while you were asleep?

“I’m so sorry…” he whispers an apology. But his voice is just… it’s like his mind is not entirely here. Something is hurting him and he’s trying to conceal it. Barely. You can hear his voice is hitched from the deep breath he takes, in a futile affort to calm himself. “Have you been sleeping for long?”

He asks you for the sake of it, there’s no genuine interest behind it. Even if you were sleeping for hours, it wouldn’t stop him. He couldn’t stop. He genuinely feels like he’ll die if he can’t get it out of his system. He snuggles his face into the crook of your neck, listening to the rhythm of life coursing through your veins. The thought of puncturing your jugular with his teeth is so irresistible. He must do it… It’ll drive him insane if he won’t.

“N-not really.” your answer is weak, all your strength is used to move your arm freely, trying to locate your phone on the bedside table. The light coming from the screen almost blinds you as you’re checking the time. “I went to bed about… half an hour ago.”

He dips his fingers right into the hollow dips between your ribs, he kneads the skin in a way that has his nails slightly scratching you. And then you realize that you’re almost entirely topless.

He traps your earlobe with his teeth, sucking on the soft tissue.

“Y-Yuta…” your voice is more reprimanding that you want it to be. But your patience is starting to run thin. You want to know what the fuck is wrong with him, he never did anything like this before. Even if he’s horny as hell he would ask for your permission because that’s the way he is.

Instead of giving you an answer he bites your neck. Hard. It hurts, it makes you yelp. Shit, that’s gonna leave a mark. And he growls, just like a wild animal.

You squirm, you jolt, trying to get away from the source of your pain with a prolonged hiss. Only one hand of his is enough to stop you from fussing while the other fondles your chest. Your nipple is caught between his fingers, he twists it slightly. You can’t see it getting red, hard and swollen. His moves are awkward and tactless, but somehow they help with soothing the sharp pain in your neck. Your tensed body eases up a little.

He kicks the inner side of your knee with his own, creating a little space in between them, then forces your legs apart with one smooth movement. As he tries to settle right under your core, you feel him brushing the apex of your thigh.

He’s so painfully hard.

You’re sure he can read the instinctual reactions of your body. The rush of adrenaline, your pulse, how your heart is almost breaking your ribs with every beat. You’re getting more and more aware of your surroundings because you have no idea what will happen to you. He pins your wrists down on the bed. He doesn’t want you to escape.

What has gotten into him? Where’s your shy and gentle man, your sweet little angel? The one who needs so much guidance, who gets so awkward about his lack of experience compared to you. The one you need to encourage to talk about what he likes since you won’t judge him for it. Well, angels shouldn’t be benevolent and sweet, right? They’re the soldiers of god after all. And the depth of his psyche is still very much a mystery to you…

“I don’t want to hurt you… I just need you.”

He has no control over his own thoughts, everything on his mind gets blabbered out. Not just that he needs you, but that he wants to fuck you (he rarely uses that word so you’re even more baffled), that he wants to eat you up, bite for bite, digest you so nobody else can have you.

It sounds devoted yet utterly terrifying.

“You’re-“

He’s scary. Well, you knew this prior to crawling into his life. What people thought about him, one rumor more unhinged than the other and you have no idea how much truth there was to them. Everyone has some sort of admiration, respect for him or repulsion of him. You just tend to forget sometimes, how malicious his cursed energy feels, how his eyes never reflect the light, looking outright dead. But it’s all so contradictory to his personality… you know that you’re dear to him, he’s willing to risk everything for his friends, he’s so starved for connection, to carve himself a place within people’s hearts. You blamed the whole phenomenon on Rika. And you took pride in yourself, for taming a monster.

“I feel so…” he suspires, trying his best to contain himself. “… weird.”

And he’s a kind monster indeed, even now, controlling his impulses as he humps your thigh like a feral dog.

“I don’t know if I’m able to hold back, so I need to know….”

His voice is desperate, almost a plea. He’s afraid of himself too. With the last bit of his sanity, he wants to make sure that it’s alright for you, whatever he has in store for you.

You don’t protest.

His lips crash into yours in a violent, hungry kiss. Your teeth clang together, he shoves his entire tongue in your mouth. He grabs the hem of your shorts, peeling off anything that covers you below the waist. You hear the fabric tear. It’s the same with his own clothes too, in a few blinks of your eyes he’s already stark naked.

He takes your hand, pulls it towards him, you can feel him in your palm. So hot, hard and swollen to the touch. He closes your fingers around him and his hips start moving back and forth, fucking himself into your grip. You smear the precum along his length with your fingertips, squeezing lightly when you feel the base. It has him moaning, breathily, more vocal than he usually is. He’s so sensitive, his pace quickens and his voice is thinner, almost like a whimper.

And he groans. Unexpectedly. It bursts deep from his throat. You feel his cum pooling in your palm. Though you may be surprised, you don’t make a big deal about it. You search for tissues on the bedside table to clean your hand like nothing happened.

“Feelin’ okay?”

Your voice is calming, tender, it warms his heart but the mere sight of his cum on your hand makes the blood rush to his dick again.

You sit up to caress his face. You open your mouth to question him, but he won’t let you start your aftercare routine.

“It’s… not enough.”

He grabs your thigh, hooking your leg over his shoulder, giving him better access to your naked core. Your back falls onto the mattress again.

“I’ll take care of you.”

It’s a promise, you’re sure of it.

His fingertips sink into your folds, relief ripples through him when he finds them already wet. He goes all out on you, his thumb circles your clit and two fingers dip in at your entrance, waiting to loosen you up so they can be pushed inside. His nails gently caress your inner thigh, it’s a tickling sensation, goosebumps dot your skin, a sigh dies on your lips. Treating it as a sign, his fingers start stretching your walls. They curl and curl inside you to the point of the cold band of his ring touching your folds, your essence soiling the stainless metal. The symbol of the haunting spirit of his first love. Childish love that it is, unserious, all just a game. The promises… the word forever holds no weight. Or maybe it does but they have no idea how hard it is to maintain those vows.

Can you ever compare to Rika in his eyes? Have the same effect over him? You don’t dare to talk about it just yet. No, the nature of your relationship is not the same. Childhood love is not like adult love, you just want some reassurance. You want to feel important.

And your reassurance is soaking that wretched finger with your juices. Make that wretched ring yours. He spreads his fingers inside you, scissoring you apart, eagerly working to prepare you. You’re holding onto the sheets and the pillows desperately, your body feels so volatile you might as well float away.

When he pulls out you feel hollow, incomplete. But he won’t keep you waiting long. The head of his cock feels like salvation. Scorching hot and wet with the mixed arousal. And he completes you with one smooth thrust. You’re whole, fulfilled, a merged existence worth suffering over. He’s throbbing deep within your walls, pulsating through your nerves. You can’t tell if the noise coming out of him is a moan, a whine, or a growl, you only know that it’s bordering on bestial. Filled with need, an ache, coupled with something beyond your comprehension.

He drills into you, there’s so much strength and resilience in him, it almost makes you scared. But something else also swells inside your chest. An unknown kind of excitement, a thrill, it makes you feverish, wired. The dissonance between his absolutely feral state and the fact that he’d never hurt you. Or maybe he would, in a way that you’d like it. Nobody could bite through your throat with such force that your windpipe breaks, only him, him and no one else.

He holds you at the back of your pelvic bone, lifts you up in an utterly perfect angle. You mewl him that it feels so good, so perfect, so raw. You love this feeling so much. You get completely lost and immersed in it.

“…it?”

His voice is faint yet his broken self-worth shines through it. Poor soul… You didn’t pay attention to his most important desire. He’s a parasite living off of your kind words, but nothing can make him as blissful as knowing you love him, despite everything he despises about himself. And you’ll feed him. Prove it to him that he matters more than the things he does to you.

“Oh Yuta, my sweet…” the rest of the sentence gets stuck in your throat as you open your arms and he crashes into your embrace like a lost, lonely puppy. You hug him tightly, brushing through his locks with a free hand. The sweat makes the strands stick together. “Of course I love you, don’t be silly.”

He might as well have been a puppy in his previous life. And now your words eased his guilt about his temporary condition. He gained your forgiveness.

What he does next is much more instinctual. He folds you in half, where your knees bend, is pressed right against his traps, your heels graze the middle of his back. Now his thrusts have weight, uncovering spots that even you had no idea that existed inside of you. Tears of joy prickle in your eyes, calling upon whatever deity’s name you can think of, off the top of your head. You can swear his pace increases at the sight. It’s so intense a broken cry erupts from your throat.

He thrusts right into a sweet spot, which has you melting and trembling. Please is the only word your lips can form. At this point, you couldn’t care less about the lewd sounds of your skin slapping together or the squelching noises that make the whole act sloppy, shameless and primal, you only want to reach  your peak, and you’re not far from it as you’re clenching around him with a rhythm that you have no control over.

It crashes, it ruptures, sudden, sharp and hot like an electric spark. A scream empties your lungs, but Yuta muffles it with sealing his mouth onto yours. You feel yourself getting filled as you’re convulsing around his length.

After he fucks you through your orgasm you feel yourself shaking, your whole body is limp, numb, drifting slowly to sleep. You’re both soaked in sweat, your bodies stick together but there’s a need to bond further in each other’s embrace. You plant a kiss between his locks, praising him, telling him you love him. Satisfaction clouds your mind, like a soft, pillowy pink mist.

However, his cock is still not soft.

“I have no idea what has gotten into you.” you tell him, marveling, as you’re still catching on your breath. “I like it though, but you owe me an explanation.”

He handles you gently, like you’re some precious thing, made from glass, fragile. Your body is like a ragdoll’s, he has you lying on your stomach, lazily, flatly, you might as well fuse together with the mattress. Calloused fingers are drawing nonfigurative shapes on your shoulder blades.

“I’ll tell you right after we finish.”

Your blood runs cold for a moment.

“Again? Yuta, for the love of god I’m exhausted.” you whine.

He apologetically kisses your spine.

“Just this one, okay? Please? I’ll do all the work, I’ll make it quick. You only need to relax, you can sleep even.”

You want to tell him that sounds a little bit creepy, but you don’t have the strength to talk. He kisses the two shallow dimples right above your tailbone. His gaze lingers on your folds, admiring how red and swollen you are.

“If you manage to make me cum again, you deserve a fucking award.” you comment, face nuzzled into the pillow, your voice is obviously snarky.

You can feel teeth sinking into the flesh of your asscheek. The mark that is burning on your neck found it’s pair. He presses down your overly sensitive clit with his thumb, balancing the pain out with pleasure. But it gets overstimulated so easily, you feel the need to bite the pillow.

You brace yourself with a deep breath through your nose. You’re going to pay him back next time, you promise yourself that you’ll make a begging, crying mess out of him, and the thought makes you chuckle.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #yuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #do not perceive me please idk how I came up with the whole cannibalcore pipeline #yuta okkotsu x you #jjk x reader #meesa writes

[kentopedia]

i miss when we first met

FEATURING. dazai osamu x f!reader & f!reader x chuuya nakahara — wc: 15.1k

SUMMARY: you'd always been in love with Dazai, but you started to doubt that he'd ever cared for you in return. chuuya, though, had never shown you anything but true affection.

CONTENTS: nsfw 18+ ONLY, pm!dazai, pm!reader, mostly dazai x reader but…, unhealthy relationship dynamics, voyeurism, cheating, manipulation, smut, degradation, guns, angst, dazai is very bad at expressing emotions, pet names, horrible communication, unrequited (?) love, the list goes on bc they’re in the port mafia just be warned

note: this took me like 4 months to finish & i am so so nervous to post it lmao. i wanted to write something different & this is very outside my comfort zone! :) but it's dazai's birthday so i figured i might as well share it today

You rolled onto your side away from Dazai, still breathing heavily as you came down from your high.

Beside you, he had shifted onto his forearms, moving up against the headboards to sit up straight. The covers fell off of him, revealing the marks that you’d left all over his body, the scars from a life lived in the mafia.

Under the red silk sheets, you were silent, your head settling into the pillow as you stared at him.

He’d deny it, but he was beautiful, a tempting, alluring creature that you couldn’t get enough of.

But you also knew Lucifer had once been God’s most beautiful angel, and it only made sense that Dazai Osamu would hold the same kind of exquisiteness.

Dazai closed his eyes, rolled his neck as he leaned back, stretching out all of the stiff muscles. He didn’t touch you again, kept a distance as he wiped the sweat that had dried on his forehead, the fluids that had stained the sheets between you.

He used to talk to you, after something so intimate. Used to hold you in his arms and trace your skin with a gentleness you didn’t know he possessed. He hadn’t always been cruel when he fucked you, hadn’t always put his own needs before yours.

Of course, Dazai had never loved you. That was something you were certain of in your very core. But he’d held at least some shred of respect for you before becoming the head of the Port Mafia. Now, you didn’t think he saw you as anything more than a means to an end.

It didn’t matter, though. It didn’t matter that Dazai spoke to you minimally when you two weren’t alone, that everyone in the Port Mafia knew you were nothing more than the woman who slept in his bed.

It didn’t matter because you loved him. You’d stood by his side since the beginning, since he’d recruited Chuuya, since he’d lost Oda.

Since he’d killed Mori.

You’d been with him through all of it, seen every horrid side to him, and you’d never once wanted to escape. Dazai had his claws in you, and he had them in deep. The thought of being anywhere but with him had never crossed your mind.

“Akutagawa told me what happened yesterday.”

You blinked, snapping out of your haze as Dazai regarded you with cool, condescending eyes. He was peering at you from over his shoulder, picking his dark button-up off the floor. The skin on his back was red from scratches, the lines dragging through his taut skin.

“Did he?” you said, looking down at your nails. You hadn’t expected anything less. Akutagawa did everything in his power to get exaltation from Dazai. “I’m sure his report was thorough.”

Dazai’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed, a darkened tint flashing in them. “That’s all you have to say?”

His voice was unamused, icy, and it reminded you that no matter how many times you crawled into his bed, let him use you however he wanted, he was still your boss. He was Dazai Osamu, the man whom everyone in Yokohama feared.

You swallowed. “I’m sorry.” Your gaze twisted away from him, unable to meet his hardened expression completely. “I was distracted. It was my fault entirely.”

Dazai made a noise in the back of his throat as he moved out of the bed. He sauntered across the room, so quietly and cat-like, and you buried yourself deeper into the mattress, wanting to sink into it completely.

“You’re lucky, then, that Akutagawa was able to deflect the bullets.” He began replacing the bandages that had slipped off of his face, covering his cheek with disgust.

He let you see him completely when it was just the two of you. It took every ounce of your self-control not to read into that, to wonder if it was just a habit leftover from when you were younger.

“I am lucky.”

Truthfully, you’d only hesitated for half of a second, momentarily lost in your own loop of suffering, and your opponent had gotten an edge on you. They’d shot at you, then the bomb, nearly prematurely blowing up the building.

“After decades of work, I would’ve thought you’d know better by now.” Dazai sighed wearily, like your presence irritated him. It probably did. “I’ll consider moving you. I’m sure there’s a place for you where you can’t get yourself killed if you fuck up.”

“Dazai—” you swallowed, a horrid tasting stinging your mouth as you remembered your time with him had come to an end. He was back to being Mori’s underling, the man who looked at the city like it was nothing but a chessboard. “Boss,” you remedied quickly, all too used to addressing him differently. It was difficult, sometimes, to recognize where Dazai began, and the Port Mafia’s boss ended. “It was a stupid error. In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever done something like that before?”

Dazai hesitated momentarily, before tensing his shoulders. He didn’t answer your question. “Don’t let it happen again.” A warning was in his eyes when they met yours through the mirror. “I don’t have the patience to find a replacement for you, and Akutagawa’s too valuable an asset to lose to a seasoned professional’s careless mistake.”

You exhaled, looking back down at your hands. The ones that had already been stained in so much blood, wrought with crime and bad intent. “Understood.”

You finally climbed out of the bed, missing the warmth that it gave you, even though Dazai’s cold body always sucked it away. He laid so stiffly next to you most of the time. You remembered when he used to sleep with his forehead pressed to the back of your neck.

As you dressed, Dazai kept his eyes on his work, never paying you any attention. You felt discarded, useless, and you wanted to hate him, wanted to hate yourself for longing to wrap your arms around him, hug him from behind.

“I’ll send you with Chuuya tomorrow,” he said, scanning reports and assignments that he’d thrown aside lazily last night. “An easy assignment outside of Yokohama. Think you can manage that?”

“Just give me the job.” You snatched the paper out of Dazai’s hand, and he didn’t say a word, only watched as you perused it. It was, really, the simplest task he’d given you in the past few weeks. You’d felt like he’d been overworking you just to avoid you. “Fine. I’ll take it.”

Dazai’s smile widened, sinister, and wicked. He brushed his hand delicately over your shoulder, against your neck before patting you on the head. “I trust you won’t let me down.”

Going against every sensible atom in your being, you smiled wearily. His minimal display of affection warmed you, a deep pang settling in your soul. “Have I ever?”

“No.” He held a sort of awed fascination, twisting a part of your hair between his fingers. “How lucky someone must be to be my greatest enemy. To get the kiss of death from an angel is not such a bad way to die.”

He held your cheek in his delicate fingers, and you were putty in his hands, wishing that his eyes would soften, even by a fraction. That his hand would cup around his cheek like he meant it.

Instead, he pulled away, and you felt cold, cold, cold, drowning in your own emptiness.

You scoffed, trying to regain some power in the situation. “I’m no angel.”

“Hm,” Dazai hummed, dropping his head in his hands, resuming a spot behind the desk, the deep red chair much too similar to the one in his office, the one that Mori had inherited from the previous boss. “Perhaps not to others.”

And you grew hot, feeling that, maybe, Dazai was giving you a compliment.

It was at times like these that you saw the semblance of your previous relationship. When you could tease him without feeling the weight of his superior rank looming over you. When you could kiss him without tasting venom. When you didn’t have to wonder if it would be appropriate to touch him, or if you should keep your distance.

You wanted to quit him. Really, you did.

He was a horrible, loathsome person.

You’d never be able to stop loving him.

“I could never be any sort of heavenly creature, Dazai. My spot in hell was sealed the moment I sided with the Devil.”

Dazai laughed, the sound raw and dry, so humorless. “I hope you don’t mean me. Flattery will get you nowhere,” he tsked, the tip of his tongue scratching against the back of his white teeth.  

You certainly hadn’t meant that as a compliment.

“Should I say goodbye before I leave?” you asked wryly, doubting that he’d even want to see you again. His image burned against the back of your eyelids, and you drank him in, hoping that when you died, his face would be the last thing you saw.

Dazai didn’t grace you with a simple yes or no. Instead, he glanced up briefly, his one eye exposed, mere centimeters of skin uncovered. “Goodbye.”

You nodded; lips pressed tightly together as you accepted the dismissal. With a sigh, you were out of the room, wondering why you hadn’t just showered before you left. Most of your clothes were in Dazai’s closet anyway.

You didn’t see him again before you left.

The assignment Dazai had given you was a few cities over, a task of infiltrating an enemy organization who’d gotten a little too close to the Mafia’s boundaries. It was simple enough, especially with Chuuya at your side, though the whole ordeal had you away from home for a weekend, and far too much time with your own thoughts.

Dazai had set the two of you up in a suite, one with two separate bedrooms and a shared living space. It was much more luxurious than you even needed, with a view overlooking the entire city and an extensive bar in the kitchen. The furniture was a deep, black leather, every accent dark in color.

It was conspicuous, but you’d grown too used to extravagance after being with Dazai. You allowed yourself to indulge in it.

A silly notion, really; the place you slept every night was much more lavish.

You scrubbed the blood off your face, your hands, and stared at yourself in the mirror without recognizing the person before you. The water at the bottom of the shower was a macabre shade, staining the tiles as it swirled down the drain.

Shivering, you tried to reconcile all of the things you’d done, shelve them away before you could wonder if all of it was really worth it. If Dazai was really worth it.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, your skin rubbed raw, Chuuya was sitting at the bar, a freshly cracked bottle of wine before him. His back was tense, muscles strained as he regarded you with weary eyes, the darker shade under them obvious and alarming.

“Took you long enough,” Chuuya snorted, pouring himself a glass. The bottle was aged and dark, the label faded. He must have brought it along with him; it certainly hadn’t come from the hotel. “I was getting bored.”

You made a face, taking the seat beside him. “Well, there was a lot of blood.” You reached over to snatch the bottle, pressing it to your lips before he could protest.

“Help yourself, then,” His expression was sour, but his acerbic tone held a hint of amusement. “Do you know how expensive that is?”

“No.” You shrugged, taking a sip. Money had stopped meaning anything to you a long time ago. “Should I care?” The liquid warmed your throat on the way down.

“Probably not. You’ve surely got enough cash behind you to buy me another one.”

“Right.” You snorted and wondered how much of that stuff you’d have to drink before you’d stop feeling a thing. Thoughts of the crumbling bond that you and Dazai shared wouldn’t leave you alone. “And you don’t?”

Chuuya laughed, twirling the glass in his gloved hand. There was a hardened edge to him that you didn’t like. Opposed to Dazai, Chuuya had always been much more open with you, more willing to share his thoughts. “Well, we can’t all be Dazai’s favorite. You’ve got the keys to the kingdom, my dear. Whatever belongs to the Mafia belongs to you too.”

“Favorite?” You spat out the word, darkening at the mention of Dazai, the man who never seemed to leave your brain. It was always Dazai, Dazai, Dazai. The youngest executive there had ever been, the one who’d become the head of the Port Mafia just a few years later.

You hated him. Wished you could burn the memory of that haunted man entirely.

“Hm?” Chuuya leaned forward like he hadn’t heard you.

A bitter flavor blossomed on your tongue when you thought of saying his name out loud. “I don’t want to talk about Dazai right now.”

You brought the bottle to your lips again; it was starting to feel lighter.

“Why?” Chuuya’s eyes dimmed as he stared at you, looking for something hidden in your irises. A secret that wouldn’t be there. You’d always been too easy to read. “Did something happen?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about Dazai, and you immediately think something’s wrong?”

He blinked. Hesitated. “Well, I spent my teenage years listening to you talk about him like a lovesick fool. The subsequent years watching him stare at you in the same way.” He took the bottle away from you, tipping his head back. “Something must be wrong.”

You felt a flush at your neck, the skin itching with sweat. It was cruel of Chuuya to allude to any emotions from Dazai, when you knew they weren’t there. “That’s not true.”

Chuuya sighed. “Isn’t it?”

Although his temper had always been much worse than yours, you felt the same sort of anger claw at your back. The urge to scream at him became almost insuppressible. “Dazai doesn’t care about me like that.” You flopped down on the bar, alcohol fuzzing the edges of your senses. It felt nice, warm.

Maybe being away from the Port Mafia was better for you than you thought.

“Don’t be stupid.” Chuuya’s eyes had narrowed when your head fell forward, his fist clenching around the bottle.

“Stupid?” You immediately sat up, blood rushing straight to your head. Who was Chuuya to come and tell you everything he thought he knew? It was laughable, really. “He doesn’t care, and I think I’d know. Fuck you, Chuuya.”

You slammed your fist down on the table, hurt. You didn’t understand why Chuuya would side with Dazai when he knew how much the situation troubled you. How often had you bared your soul to him, told him how Dazai’s aloofness had hurt you over and over again?

His eyes softened, an apology immediately leaving his lips. “I’m sorry—”

“Are you?” The words were vehement. Chuuya was shamelessly against your relationship with Dazai, always coming up with one reason or another to get you out of it. Now, it seemed, he was trying to defend it. “Dazai cares or he doesn’t. You can’t keep changing your mind based on the situation.”

“Dazai does care.” Chuuya said the words like they pained him to leave his mouth, each one dragging a dagger against his chin. “You think he’d keep you around if he didn’t?”

You did. You knew that you had use outside of Dazai’s feelings, just like Chuuya, just like Akutagawa. Just like every menial grunt who had a shred of value for the Mafia.

“He cares that I have value to him.” A sigh left your lips, and you sunk your chin onto your palm, feeling like nothing more than the dramatic woman in a Shakesperian tragedy. Really, you couldn’t remember when you’d become so pathetic. “What will become of me when I can’t sink a bullet into the skull of his enemies anymore?”

Chuuya frowned, the wrinkles deepening on his forehead. “No one can predict what Dazai will do.” He let you steal his half-full glass of wine, keeping the bottle safely tucked away from you. “Would it make much difference to you if we could?”

“I suppose not.” You’d grown tired, the subtle buzz of alcohol coming in quick on your empty stomach. “Nothing matters much anymore. I’ll never leave the Port Mafia.” Saying the words out loud made it more real than you’d intended, even though it was a fact that had sunk deep into your bones the day you’d met the dark-haired, suicidal bastard. “Why do I have to love him, Chuuya? Why can’t I love a good man?”

You thought, why can’t I love you instead, and left it unsaid. The words might have been too cruel. You knew the pain of unrequited emotions.

“Because you’re in the Port Mafia. Good men would know to stay away.” Chuuya drummed his fingers against the countertop before reaching out, contemplative. Though you remained unmoving in your seat, his hand still retracted before he touched you, as if burned. There was caution in his movements, every action calculated—Chuuya was usually the opposite, as intelligent as he was. “Besides. You’ve never tried to let Dazai go. You don’t want to.”

“I want to,” you said defensively, though even to your own ears, the statement was weak. Dazai was an addiction, and you’d go back to him time and time again. Even when, sometimes, you weren’t so sure there was anything good about him. “I just don’t know how. What would I do out there in the world without Dazai?” You laughed, amused. A normal life didn’t seem possible—you’d have no idea where to start.

Chuuya’s face pinched in disgust. “Take over the Port Mafia. Kill him and run it yourself.” He huffed, running a hand over his eyes, exhausted. “There’s a solution. If you really want to get rid of him.”

You blinked back at him. A moment passed; you’d forgotten he was looking for a response.

“I suspected as much.” His shoulders slumped, defeated, as you drew back in shame. “How long will you talk yourself into this endless cycle of torment? Dazai isn’t the same man that you fell in love with, and he never will be again.” He met your eyes, cold and guarded. “There’s nothing to be done about that. If you want Dazai so badly, put up with every single part of him. I’m tired of listening to the same grievances, time and time again.” 

Chuuya made to stand, but you stopped him, grabbing his wrist lightly. He glared at you from over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to convey your apology sincerely. “You’re completely right. I’ve never tried to let Dazai go, and maybe I can.”

You didn’t give Chuuya time to formulate a response. Before he could understand what was happening, you leaned forward, catching him off guard, and planted your lips on his.

For one singular moment, Chuuya had kissed you back, tasting your mouth in its entirety, before he shoved you away, scrubbing his skin like he’d been burned.

“Don’t do that.” He had a hand in your face, scolding you like a child. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

You stared at him; his dark eyes were full of an emotion you had never seen before. “Why not? You said I should try to let him go.”

“Not by kissing me, fucking hell.” Chuuya hissed, his voice just above a whisper like someone else was listening in. Something vile had been unleashed in him as he gesticulated around wildly. “You’re Dazai’s.” He scoffed. “Do you think any smart man would do anything with you, knowing you sleep in that monster’s bed every night?”

You sniffed, sticking your jaw out. Maybe, you’d been wrong all this time. Chuuya was like everyone else, wasn’t he? Holding you at a distance because you cared for the wrong person.

“I’m not leaving the Mafia. I’m not leaving Dazai.” You reached across the table, grabbing one of his cold hands. “I just want to be someone else for once. To know what it’s like for someone to care about me so completely.”

“It’s not going to be with me.” Chuuya yanked his hand away, laughing mirthlessly. “I never thought you’d try to manipulate me like this. “You’ve been spending too much time with him.”

Your eyes flashed, infuriated. Chuuya looked at you with some kind of betrayal, like he wasn’t the exact same way, like he wasn’t the same kind of vile person that you were. “I know you’re in love with me, Chuuya. I know you’ve looked at me since we were sixteen years old, wished so badly I would look at you the same way.”

His jaw clenched, the anger giving way to something else. “Don’t start.”

“You’ve wanted me all this time, haven’t you?” It was a genuine question; one you’d always been too scared to voice. Chuuya was the only person you considered to be a friend and knowing that he felt that way about you would ruin your friendship completely.

Though you had one sip too much of alcohol running through your veins, and you’d spent two days wondering how you could stop feeling a single thing for Dazai. Rationality had left you entirely.

Chuuya was silent, still watching you with hesitance.

“You’re the only person in the Mafia who really cares about me, aren’t you?” you said, softer, wondering if you could lure him in. Spring him into a trap you’d both be certain to regret in the morning. “You’re the one who talks to me about everything, who watches out for my well-being. Who’s never looked at me like I was anything but the prettiest girl in the world.”

And though Chuuya still didn’t trust your actions, his eyes had softened just a hair, his body releasing the tension. “You are.”

You smiled, but his compliment made you feel nothing but guilt. “Then why won’t you let me kiss you, Chuuya?”

“Because.” He scraped a hand over his face, breathing heavily like it was taking every ounce of his willpower to resist you “Dazai will kill me, you understand? He’ll kill you.”

“Wouldn’t you at least like to know?” You invaded his personal space. Each word you spoke cracked him a little bit more. “I know you’ve imagined me spread out before you, entirely exposed to you. How I’d look with my hips arching off the bed, crying out your name—”

“Stop it.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You felt like you were losing your mind. Something had cracked in you, and you couldn’t come back from it. Things would never go back to the way they were after those careless words had been tossed into the world. “You’ve always wanted me, so why, when I’m giving myself to you completely, won’t you accept?”

Chuuya swallowed. His voice had grown thick with desire. He raked his eyes over you cautiously. “You’re asking a lot from me, baby.” He held your cheek, grazing the bone in the gentle way that Dazai had forgotten. “Believe me, I want to. But you’ve had a lot to drink.”

“I haven’t,” you said, grabbing his wrist before he could pull away. The touch of another person felt so nice against your icy skin. “I’m okay. I’m not drunk.” You weren’t—the alcohol had just made you brave enough to ask. “Please, Chuuya.”

He swallowed thickly. “He’ll kill me.”

“And he’ll kill me. Just as you said.” You met his eyes completely, wondering why you couldn’t care for this man in the same way, why his lips weren’t as alluring as Dazai’s, why his voice didn’t set a blaze deep in your stomach. “Do you really care whether Dazai thinks of me as his?”

His cheeks were flushed, eyebrows pinched, and you spotted the moment he began to draw back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just can’t.”

Then, you panicked, eyes becoming glassy as he released you, turning to retreat back to his bedroom, and you scrambled for another way, a way to bring him back to you.

“Chuuya, please,” you said, desperation in every syllable, and when he turned around, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger. “I just want to know what it’s like with a person who loves me. Can’t you give me that?”

That was it. That was all you had to say. When Chuuya bowed his head, you knew he’d given in.

“Why do you think I can give you what he can’t?” Chuuya’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. “I’m not that kind of man. I’m not the kind of man you’re looking for.”

“No,” you said. “You’re not that kind of man. You’re Chuuya. The only person that’s always been there for me.”

He hesitated, momentarily, before sweeping you into his arms, his touch the softest you’d ever felt. “Are you certain that you want this?”

“Yes.”

“Then it doesn’t matter if Dazai kills me.” Chuuya spoke into your mouth, carving the words into your aching heart. “You were always going to be the death of me, anyway.”

His lips were upon you again, kissing you with the hunger of a starved man, and you gave him back as much as you could, which was the despair of a lonely woman. His touch was one of loving hands as guided you back into the bedroom tenderly.

When your back hit the bed, he asked if you were okay, asked if everything was comfortable. The concern in his eyes had rarely been seen in Dazai’s own—you couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken care of you first.

“I’m fine, Chuuya,” you promised again and again, and you smiled, caressing the soft skin of his jaw.

His lips pulled back in return, and then your shirt was thrown over your head, carelessly tossed towards the corner of the room. Though, no matter how many articles of clothing you lost, the necklace that Dazai had given you still rested against your collarbone.

You cupped your palm around it, trying to avert Chuuya’s gaze as he stared down at the precious metal, something conflicting in his cool irises.

“It’s okay,” you said, doing your best to distract him. You wouldn’t take the necklace off. It didn’t matter how much Dazai had hurt you; you needed the reminder of the absolute infidelity you were committing. “Keep going.”

Feeling more anxious than you had before, you kissed Chuuya, trying to dispel the bile that gathered in the back of your throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” Chuuya said, kissing every inch of your face, his hands hovering over your chest. “I could look at you forever, and it wouldn’t be long enough.”

Chuuya’s sentiments warmed you, but words weren’t enough. You pulled his vest off, then the buttoned-shirt and every other intricate article of clothing he wore.

It felt wrong. His height was wrong. His skin felt too warm under your palm.

“When did you fall in love with me?” you asked, breathing heavily. Desire pooled in your abdomen against your will, your own heart betraying you. Still, it was nothing more than the most basic reaction of human nature, raw and primal, unaffected by the organ that was jailed within your ribcage.

Chuuya was surprised by the question, and he paused, his face just inches above your stomach. “I think I realized when I was seventeen.” He huffed out a laugh, inhaling your perfume. “It was the first time I saw Dazai kiss you. I thought I was going to be sick.” He continued kissing down your body, sliding your pants past your hips. “I’d always wanted you. I guess I just didn’t realize until then.”

You exhaled, feeling tears spring to the corners of your eyes, ones you suppressed.

Dazai had given you flowers that day. You remembered how they smelled, the rainy spring breeze. The way the sun reflected in his brown irises, melting them into candied honey that brightened his entire complexion.

“Then take me, Chuuya. If you’ve wanted me for so long, then fuck me like you mean it.”

His dark eyes flashed, but his gentle caresses never turned rough, never sped through a single moment you had together. You smiled, your expression peaceful and open when he finally slid your panties off, your cunt throbbing as his finger brushed against your swollen clit.

Chuuya took his time with you, singing praises that you hadn’t heard in a long time, and you came once around his slender fingers, the ones that were much less skilled at knowing every place you enjoyed being touched.

When he finally sunk inside you, you still felt empty, unfulfilled. You tried to lose yourself in his mouth, in the taste of wine and Chuuya, and dug your fingers into his back.

“Feel so good around me, baby.” Chuuya whispered into your skin, imprinting the words into your neck. He was careful not to leave any marks, though he wanted to, wanted to claim you as his own. “Taking me so well.”

You tugged on his hair as he kissed down your collarbone, between your breasts, his breath hot and heavy. Though you cried out, you kept your voice quiet, still fearful that someone might hear, might know exactly what kind of betrayal you’d committed.

Chuuya thrust into you slowly, so much gentler than Dazai, hitting the spot deep inside of you that had you arching off the bed. “Fuck,” he said, choking on his own breath. “You have no idea how you make me feel.” He was full of desperation, his hands digging into your hips.

“Chuuya,” you said, holding his head between your palms.

He gave you the brightest smile in return, sad and meaningful. “I know. I can feel you squeezing me tighter. Let go for me, doll.”

His hair was just as soft, but it wasn’t dark enough, wasn’t short enough. His kiss didn’t feel the same, and you felt tears blurring your vision as you realized you’d never wanted him, you only wanted Dazai, and this was all wrong.

Still, you came around him, as he was buried deep inside you, but his name never left your lips, not even as a breathy whisper, because the one that was sitting there was Osamu.

And when he pulled out of you, you stroked him with practiced laziness, moving your hands in the way you knew Dazai liked, even though Chuuya felt so much different in your palm.

Chuuya kissed you as warmth flooded into your hand, and then he was breathing heavily, collapsing onto the bed next to you. He kissed you over and over, holding you tight, and you smiled, satisfied, because at the least, you knew this was what love felt like.

You’d never get it from the man you wanted, so you’d take it from Chuuya, even if it made you feel rotten inside.

The room smelled like sex and betrayal, and Chuuya took care of you, carried you out of the bed for a bath, and gently rinsed away the sweat and grime.

You were silent for most of the time, only reassuring him when he asked if you were alright.

For the first time, maybe you were. You imagined a future where you could learn to love Chuuya, a future where you were finally able to rid yourself of Dazai and start over again.

But it was nothing more than a delusion, a dream that would never happen. Dazai was a part of your soul. You knew that and Chuuya knew that, even as he closed his eyes next to you, the woman that would never give her love to anyone else. Your heart beat and bled for Dazai Osamu, every inch of your being meant for him. It would kill you to let him go, and if he died, you’d die right alongside him.

You turned away from Chuuya, burying your face in your hands, completely unaware that he’d left the bed to sleep in the other room.

You didn’t talk to Chuuya the next morning, not when you took a private car back to Yokohama, not when you stepped foot back onto the Mafia headquarters. Things between you had soured, just as you’d suspected, and you didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t think there was any way to go back from what had happened.

Higuchi was waiting for the two of you when you walked in the door, her blazer perfectly pressed, and her shirt tucked. She greeted you with a half-smile—gesturing towards the stairs. “The boss wants to see all of us for a meeting. He said you two would be arriving at this time.”

You nodded, and Chuuya scoffed, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand his superhuman ability to know what’s happening all of the time.”

Swallowing, you followed Higuchi, trying not to hear the foreboding nature of Chuuya’s statement.

Most high-ranking Mafia members were in attendance, with Dazai at the head of the table, the dark wooden chair beside him eerily empty and welcoming. You took a seat, and Dazai’s eyes ran over you, smoothly and hastily, before a small smile appeared on his features. “No injuries?” he said, and though his tone was professional, you could hear the slightest bit of concern.

“None,” you said, and something in your voice cracked, ever so slightly.

You were such a fool. You’d never be able to hide something like this from Dazai.

He eyed you suspiciously, before sliding his glance over to Chuuya, who was as cool as usual. His face was shadowed by his hat, hiding any evidence of a sleepless night.

“Chuuya,” Dazai said, tucking his palm into his hand. “Debrief.”

Your partner gave Dazai every last detail, summarizing as best he could, and sliding in the occasional sarcastic remark as he leaned back casually in the chair. Dazai listened with boredom in his expression, drumming his fingers against the table until Chuuya’s monologue was complete.

He turned to Akutagawa, who bowed his head an immediately launched into his own assignment.

You blinked—you hadn’t realized that Akutagawa’s squad had been sent elsewhere. It made no sense for Dazai to send you with Chuuya when your own division had a separate mission.

The meeting wrapped up quickly, and the members scattered, going their own separate ways for the afternoon. Chuuya refused to meet your eye as he got up from the table, one of the last to leave the room.

As you stood, Dazai closed a hand around your wrist, his thumb brushing your pulse.

“Was the hotel alright?” he asked, his head titled curiously. “You look tired.”

You took a sharp breath.

Fuck.

“It was fine, Osamu,” you said, and when his name slipped easily from your tongue, something in him changed. He loosened the hand on your wrist before releasing it entirely, the bandaged palm falling into his lap. “Thank you.”

Dazai nodded, turning away from you, and you’d forgotten that there were still other people in the room. Akutagawa, who lingered with morbid curiosity, and his sister, who had always sort of pitied you for your tumultuous relationship, bore witness to the brief interaction.

Behind them, Chuuya stood tense, his back straight as he crossed the threshold, sparing you only a glimpse before exiting into the darkened hallway.  

“Alright,” Dazai said in a hushed voice, his face schooled back into the usual, guarded expression. “I’ll see you later.”

It wasn’t much of a response, and he didn’t elaborate, keeping his steely eyes ahead as some low-ranking members trudged in for a meeting with their boss. He’d be busy all afternoon, it seemed.

You swallowed, and left, knowing that it was fruitless to try and keep a secret from him.

Chuuya waited for you outside, his arms crossed as he regarded you with a contempt that hadn’t been there before, such a contrast to the loving man you had seen last night. “This changes everything, you know?”

“I know,” you said, your voice thick with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Chuuya.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he scoffed. “I was the fool. I made my choice.” Chuuya sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I meant what I said, though. Yesterday. It was all true, and if you need anything, I’ll be here.”

You felt a chasm open in your chest, and you wished the floor would’ve swallowed you whole. You were losing everyone, it seemed, and maybe, Dazai really did have a point with his talk about suicide.

When you stepped into the bedroom, Dazai was sitting on the edge of the bed, the setting sun casting a shadow of his own reflection. He was twirling a pistol around his pointed finger, staring at the wall with blank eyes.

You shut the door quietly, your hands shaking against the golden knob.

Though you hadn’t made a sound when you walked through the door, Dazai’s gaze was on you immediately, sensing your entrance.

You’d never been able to slip past him.

“You’re back early.” Those were the first words that came to your mind, your voice breaking the uncomfortable silence. He was regarding you with disdain, his jaw set coolly. His hair turned bronze in the evening rays, loose strands scraping against the bandages.

“I am.” His jaw clenched, examining you with a singular, dark eye. You felt exposed under his gaze, laid bare for him to see no matter how much you shrouded yourself with. “You sound like you’re unhappy to see me.”

Dazai ran his finger along the trigger like he’d never held such a weapon before, the gun becoming an object of morbid fascination. 

You exhaled. There was so much space between you, a distance you weren’t sure you’d ever cross again. Though you thought you knew Dazai better than anyone, in that moment, he was unreadable—a chapter of pages that had been torn out.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, standing tall. Despite your nerves, you were fixated on Dazai, always drawn to him like a moth to a flame, desperate to uncover the very thing that could kill you. “I miss you every time we’re apart. You’re no stranger to my feelings.”

You could offer him that, at the very least. An undeniable truth before everything between you shattered.

Dazai stood, his dark coat billowing out behind him as he finally came to face you, suddenly seeming much taller than you remembered. And with one look, you knew that he knew. He’d always been too smart for his own good.

“I’m not certain of that any longer,” he laughed, though it was a bitter sound that clawed its way up his throat. “Why don’t you tell me the truth, instead.” Dazai stood before you with a smile that was so sweet it was almost sinister. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you did?”

You weren’t sure which one of you would blink first, caught in some deadly staring contest. Most people would’ve surrendered to him by now.

 “Why?” you jutted your chin out, refusing to give in to him in any way. If you were going to die, and you were, you would make sure Dazai knew everything you’d never told him. “You already know.”

“No.” He poked the gun into your cheek, right beneath the sharp bone. He’d clicked the safety off moments before. “I want to hear you say it. You betrayed me.”

When you refused to say a word, Dazai hissed and cocked the gun. He pressed it to your temple, the metal cold against your delicate skin.

“Say it.”

You sniffed. He wasn’t giving in, and instead, stood there silently, unmoving until you finally caved. There was something about the color of his eyes. No matter how much they hardened, you still remembered the young man he used to be. The one who wasn’t quite so cold, who picked you flowers, even with blood dripping down his arm.

“Fine.” You narrowed your eyes. “I fucked Chuuya.”

Dazai blinked. Then, he started laughing. Crazily, maniacally. You saw too much of your old boss in him that it made you sick.

“Shameless.” Dazai took a step back and dropped the gun to his side.

“What?” you sneered, pressing yourself up against him, refusing to be intimidated by the man that had been yours for years. “Should I be ashamed?”

Dazai’s eyes flashed, his jaw clenching. “Yes,” he said, fists curling at his sides. “After everything I’ve done for you.” Dazai grew quieter, flicking a strand of hair out of your face. “Do you feel no remorse?”

“You can’t be serious. What have you done for me, Dazai?” You grew still, grabbing his wrist before he could touch you again. “You’re not upset I was with another man; you’re just upset that it was Chuuya.”

You poked him in the chest, a hot stream of air exhaling through your nose.

“I gave you everything, didn’t I?” The two of you spoke at each other, avoiding the answers, never acknowledging what the other had to say. Around and around you went, an endless circle until one of you finally conceded. “I’ve given you the world, and you still wanted more.” Dazai finally broke free of your loose grasp, stroking your cheek. “What can Chuuya give you that I can’t? I ask for nothing but honesty.”

There was no jealousy in the tone, no sorrow; it was the most genuine question he’d asked you in months. The inquiry of a man who’d lost sight of himself in the past few years, and who’d somehow, over time, forgotten what it meant to care for another.

“You gave me nothing,” you said, but somewhere along the way, your cheeks had grown wet. You’d been struck by the sudden affection in his voice, the softness harsher than a slap to the face.

He was a horrible man, the worst kind of man. Yet, you couldn’t imagine a life without him, a world where you existed alone.

The truth rested at the edge of your tongue. It wouldn’t solve much, your affection for him never had solved much, but at least he would understand.

“This was never about wanting more. I never wanted Chuuya. You’re a fool if you think that.”

Dazai was silent. You pressed on.

“I wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted you. I’ve devoted my entire life to you. I do everything you ask.” You were breathing heavily, big gulping breaths that contained minimal oxygen. “I asked for nothing in return. Nothing but for you to care about me, and you never did.”

“Is that the case?” Dazai laughed humorlessly.

You ignored him, your confession leaving on one heavy breath, a string of words incomprehensible to your ears. “But Chuuya loves me. He always has, and he made certain I knew that.” You paused, averting your eyes. The entire city could be seen from the window over his shoulder. “He told me all of that, and you know what I thought the whole time?”

Dazai scowled.

“I wished that he was you instead. I wanted it to be you so badly, I wanted it to be you saying those things to me, kissing me like I was the most important thing in the world.” You took his wrist again, pressing the gun back to your temple. The cool metal was almost soothing against your skin. “Please, Dazai. Give me this one last thing. I’m begging you to kill me. I can’t take this any longer.”

His finger rested on the trigger.

“I want it to be you. I’ve never wanted to die at anyone’s hands but your own.” His hand felt just as it always had in your palm, his fingers much longer, but his skin so soft. It was almost comforting, how familiar he was, and you longed to be a part of him, to bury yourself deep within him and wear his skin as your own.

Dazai’s expression twitched, and you smiled at him, the taste of salty tears spilling into your mouth.

As you closed your eyes, you prepared for the noise, hoping your blood splattered on Dazai’s coat and stained it, the proof of your existence inerasable. You hoped that Dazai would grow to regret it, would realize that your love for him was close to unconditional.

But the violence never came. The cool metal fell away from your skin, and when you opened your eyes again, Dazai’s shoulders had slumped, the very image of defeat.

“Do you honestly think I can bring myself to kill you?”

“What’s the matter?” you asked, blinking your eyes open. You reached for the gun again, but he drew back, as if stung. “Afraid to lose your best assassin?”

“No.” Dazai’s eyes were hard, his frown set deep into his face. “I’m afraid to lose the woman I love. The most important person in the world to me.”

You stared. Blinked. Then, the worst kind of emotion washed over you.

You swallowed over and over, trying to get the bile out of your throat. You’d wanted to be done, wanted to escape. And yet—

“Don’t say that.” you shook your head, backing away as Dazai inched closer, too close and you felt yourself getting sucked back in, remembering that you’d loved him for years, and you’d never love anyone else. “Fuck you, Dazai. Stop toying with me, and just kill me."

“I love you. I thought you knew that my darling angel.”

You were crying harder, shaking your head. “I don’t believe you. You don’t care about me.”

“No?” Dazai had grabbed your wrist again, but it was so soft. “I thought you were smarter than that. Did you think you were partnered with Akutagawa at random, and not for the sole reason that I knew he’d do everything in his power to protect you? Did you think I moved your seat next to me at meetings because you were nothing more than my stupid whore? Bought you everything you ever wanted because I couldn’t stand you?”

“Yes,” you said, sniffing, feeling yourself melt where he touched you, itching to reach up and pull the bandages off his face, see the beautiful features beneath them that he hid from the world. “You don’t care about me."

“I do care,” he said, fingers grazing your chin. “I’ve killed for you. I took over the Port Mafia so I could give you everything you wanted. Why wasn’t that enough?”

“Because I never wanted that. I never wanted any of this. I wanted you, Dazai Osamu. That was all.”

Dazai frowned, and then he bowed his head, kissed your neck, then around your earlobe, and it was the softest you’d ever felt in your entire life, a gentleness you hadn’t known he was capable of. When his hands snaked around your stomach, pulling you back against him, you were lost in his adoration.

“You never said anything,” he said, kissing your shoulder, breaking the tension in the muscles. You were his, in every lifetime, you’d be his. “I thought you were… happy?”

“How could you think that? I’m not happy, Dazai. I’ve never been less happy.”

“Not even when I tell you that I love you?” he kissed your knuckles.

“Do you love me enough to be a better man? Do you love me enough to let me sleep in your bed and see your whole heart instead of the fragmented pieces that you sliced up just to hide?”

“Yes.” The word was resounding, resolute. “I love you enough to forgive you.”

You held him at a distance, lips falling apart easily. “But I don’t want to forgive you.”

“You will.” Dazai smiled, that irritatingly knowing smile of his that you’d fallen for in the first place. “You will because I mean it this time.”

“You never apologized,” you looked away, trying to find the strength to move. You were enraptured, in every fiber of his being. “You never will. You never do.”

“I never knew anything was wrong,” he frowned, and it wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie, and you had him so close that you just wanted to forget anything had ever changed. “How was I to fix it if you never told me?”

His words were full of poison, but his voice was so soft you couldn’t help but fall back into him. Perhaps, you should’ve said something. Maybe your actions had never been enough.

“How long have I been at your side, spent hours listening to your every word, even when they didn’t make sense to me? You should’ve known, Dazai. I shouldn’t have to tell you something like that.” Your words were losing their bite, and his lips quirked up, knowing that you were slowly coming back to him, clearing you of the sins you had committed.

He was hesitant, thoughtful, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. And perhaps, that was the final straw in your resistance, his gentle kiss enough to set your soul on fire.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Dazai said, his lips ghosting over yours, handing over the apology like a gift. “Won’t you give me a chance to fix it now?” It felt like a bad idea. Dazai wasn’t deserving of any more chances; you’d already given him years of second chances, had always given him the benefit of the doubt.

“You expect me to believe you’ll let us off scot-free?” you said, your face deadly close to Dazai’s. “What about Chuuya? Will you kill him in my place.”

“You’ve got me in your hand, love. If you want me to punish Chuuya, just say the word. I’ll kill him if that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t. That was the farthest thing from what you wanted, but you worried that if you sounded too enthusiastic, he might just follow through with it.

Instead, you pulled him to you, grabbing the dark tie that he wore around his neck. He grinned into your lips, his saccharine smile seeming much too deadly to be all that sweet. “Do you honestly think I believe a word that you’re saying?”

“You want to,” Dazai said, curling his hand around your jaw, his fingers brushing your ear. “That’s what matters the most.” He kissed your lips, and you could taste the difference, all the love he poured into it this time. It wasn’t like kissing a statue. “It’s all true, anyway.”

You broke away, breathing. “I won’t do this anymore, Dazai.” You finally had his hand in your own, placing the gun back to your temple. “You’re not the man you once were, and you’ll never be him again.” The smile that graced your lips was sad, though it was knowing. Things were always going to end this way.

Dazai’s face wrinkled as he tried to decipher all the words you’d never spoken. “I’m not the same man, that’s true, but my affection for you has never died.” He cupped his other hand around your cheek, hesitantly keeping the gun to your temple, squinting with his head bent.

“You’re the leader of the Port Mafia, and such a ruthless man wouldn’t let a betrayal go unscathed.”

There was a wave of silence while the two of you stared at one another, sifting through the situation with hardness in your jaws, the tension palpable within the air. Dazai straightened, clarity in his irises as a smooth smile burned onto his lips.

“Is that what you want?” he said innocently. “You want to be punished for your insurrections?”

Your mouth grew dry, but you held your ground firmly, swallowing back all the uncertainty. Perhaps you didn’t want to die. Perhaps you did. You just hated the gaping hole inside of you that never seemed to leave. “I want you to kill me.”

“Kill you?” Dazai laughed, then the hilt of the gun was against your temple once more. He held your chin steady between his forefinger and thumb, regarding you with thinly veiled disgust. “You’ve never wanted that before. Not when I asked you to die alongside me, to follow me far into the afterlife.” He sighed, releasing your chin before cocking the gun. “This isn’t about death at all.”

“What—”

“You want me to claim you, is that it?” He clicked his tongue before leaning forward, sneering. “Perhaps it’s that other way around. You want everyone in the Mafia to know I belong to you, hm?’

You blinked, though you began to feel weak in the knees, the eyes that you knew so well suddenly intimidating. “I never said—” but even then, your voice wavered, unsteady and uncertain of the immediate heat that had swirled under your skin.

Dazai’s mouth curled, a gruesome smile there. “I know you better than anyone. I’ve always known exactly what you want. Even though I shouldn’t forgive you, I can’t help myself.”

You swallowed, and Dazai had taken a step forward, pushing you with him, the gun still swaying at your temple, even when the backs of your thighs hit the bed. You fell onto the mattress, and he was on top of you, his finger caressing the trigger as he collapsed.

Dazai had never scared you, not even when he was a child you’d barely known, the teenager shaped in Mori’s image. Though, now, the unreadable expression on his face was alarming you, and you wondered if all this time, you should’ve been fearful.

Still, even with your underlying hesitance, you felt a wave of desire crash over you at the sheer need in his eyes. It wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with, but there was something else there. Maybe it was the love you’d just never noticed.

“Osamu,” you said in a quiet voice, not afraid, but not confident either. Your finger brushed the point on his wrist—it was the same heartbeat you’d always recognized.

“What?” he said, taunting you menacingly as he towered above you. “You were so bold just a second ago? What happened, darling?”

Unable to do anything but blink back at him, Dazai brought his thumb to your lips, brushing it across the plump skin before dipping it into your mouth.

Unprepared, you nearly choked, eyes blown wide as you stared back at him. Though, there was a command within his eyes, and you obliged, sucking as you watched the saliva drip down to his palm. Dazai pulled it away from your mouth with an obscene pop, giving you a sweet smile from his position above you.

Despite your humiliation, you shifted your hips on the bed, bringing your thighs together to provide you with a fraction of relief. Dazai’s eyes flashed at the movement, his smirk widening with an amusement.

“You’re nothing more than a dumb slut, aren’t you?” Dazai’s hand ghosted of your stomach, settling on the inside of your thigh momentarily. You ached with need, swallowing your pride and any demands that you could make of him. “Had Chuuya all to yourself this weekend, and still expect me to fuck you senseless.”

Your brow furrowed, and you opened your mouth before shutting it, lips still covered in your own spit. “Osamu,” you began, attempting to diffuse the situation, to explain that what had transpired between you and Chuuya meant nothing, but he never gave you the opportunity. “It wasn’t—”

Dazai’s gaze hardened, the adoration disappearing the moment you dared to speak. His fingers deftly wrapped around your throat, thrusting you into the mattress with enough force to quiet you entirely. “Shut up. If I want to hear you speak, I’ll ask. Understand?”

You could do nothing but nod, hating yourself for the ache that had grown more and more intense in your core, desperate for some sort of contact. Dazai, distracted with his own task of tearing your top off, had failed to notice the breathing that had grown heavier, the flush of heat that spread on every inch of your body.

His slender fingers finally removed the confining pants, a task he did skillfully with one hand still wrapped around your throat. Then, his fingers were against your aching cunt, and you twitched, letting out a heavy sound from the singular movement. You could feel yourself pulsing against nothing, desperate for his fingers between your legs.

“Pathetic,” he said, his fingers lazily dipping through your folds over your underwear. “I’ve barely touched you. How can you be this fucking wet?”

“Please,” you said quietly, your own hand aching to take over, if only to provide yourself that relief that he refused to give you. Every time you shifted into his hand, he brought it away, taunting you with the release you so craved.

“Please?” Dazai was mocking, cruel, every bit of the person people expected him to be. The one he never had been with you, not until recently. “You’re nothing more than a greedy little whore. Must have been why you fucked Chuuya without a second thought, huh?”

You were silent, staring him down with a clenched jaw. Your brain was twisting, betraying you, turning into empty cells within your skull, and you weren’t sure how to handle the accumulation of emotions that you felt for the man before you, the one who’s love had always been purposeful and merciless.

“Well?” he said, tightening a hand to close off the air to your lungs, trapping you with his strength. “Answer me.”

“No,” you gasped, and when your words sounded choked, when you clawed at his wrist, he loosened his grip just a hair, the only indication that the man you loved was in there at all. Still, your hips acted of their own accord, shifting further into his hand. “I’m sorry, Osamu, I am.” You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he finally slipped his fingers under your panties, rubbing your aching clit. “I wanted you; I needed you and you were never there, but Chuuya was, and—”

You were a stammering mess of desperation and regret, feeling unglued under Dazai’s hands, like the words you’d been meaning to say could finally come out. He was the only one who’d ever listened to you completely, who you’d felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with. Yet, it had been so long since you’d let yourself be open with him, and now that the opportunity arose, you were too weak to deny it.

“I was always here,” Dazai said harshly, and you were almost certain that his anger was genuine, the tone breaking in his voice a result of true sadness. “You never came to me, and I thought that’s how you wanted it to be.” His fingers sunk into you, and you threw your head back into the pillow, moaning sinfully with the lewd sound of him sinking in and out of you, the wetness collecting with every movement.

“You never showed me you cared,” you cried out, certain that there were tears streaming down your cheeks, and you should’ve been humiliated. It was humiliating—the way you were clothed in nothing, crying as Dazai laughed at you, taking full control over your body. How he could’ve done anything to you in that moment, and you would’ve let him, because that was just how much you wanted him.

“And Chuuya was the solution?” He grabbed your cheeks with the hand that had once been around your throat, pinching them to make you look at him. “You going to pass yourself around the rest of the Mafia, sweetheart? Who’ll get a taste of you next? I’m not so certain even Akutagawa would pass up the opportunity.”

His words were senseless, meant to hurt you, and you still couldn’t stand the anguish that was in his eyes.

“No,” you said, and you leaned up, wanting so badly for his lips to be on yours, to feel some semblance of the connection that you’d always had with him. “I wouldn’t, Dazai, I’m yours.” You choked on the sounds of your own moans, your thighs shaking with every change in pressure. “I’m yours. Please, I need you.”

You were certain there were marks on your neck from his fingertips, and Dazai ghosted his mouth along the delicate skin there, biting at the soreness from before. You jerked, digging your nails into his back as you drew closer and closer to your climax.

“Don’t make demands.” Dazai leaned back, and you missed the closeness, the sharp scent of him lingering in your space. “Chuuya hasn’t been a part of this conversation yet. Should we get him up here? I hadn’t considered what to do with him, but this might suffice.”

Dazed and drunk on the feeling of his hands all over you, it took you a moment to process what he was saying. His hand was already swiping through his phone, picking the number of the man that you least wanted to see.

“No, Osamu, don’t—” you cried out, and yet, you made no move to stop him. Instead, you remained pliant on the bed as he sunk another finger into you, his thumb moving in agonizing circles against your clit.  He tucked the cellphone under his chin, smiling at you maliciously, controlling you with every blink of his lashes.

You had always had trouble resisting him. Now was no different.

Chuuya answered as you released another moan, and Dazai was grinning wickedly, as if some larger scheme had finally come together, the culmination of everything he was plotting. “Boss?”

“Chuuya,” Dazai said, and you flinched, locking gazes with his deep brown irises, the color so alluring and beautiful, a shade that had darkened with each misfortune you’d endured together. You hated him, you did, but there was a fine line between the two, and your love for him would die with you, would transcend whatever simple rules the afterlife placed on Earth. “How quickly can you make it up here?”

You could hear the hesitation on the other side; Chuuya didn’t say anything for a moment.

“A couple minutes, I think. I haven’t left the building.”

“I’ll give you a couple minutes then.” Dazai’s words were clipped as he hung up the phone, throwing it to the arm chair a few feet away from the bed.

His attention was back on you completely as you let out a shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure before Chuuya came into the room. Though it was so hard when the pools in his irises were pulling you deeper, locking you into a heaven that you’d never been able to reach.

Dazai pulled away briefly, his soaking fingers leaving your body to alleviate his cock from the confines of his dark pants, hovering before you.

You swallowed, not able to remember the last time your desire for him ached this badly. Your eyes trained on the very part of him that you wanted inside of you, the tip flushed so beautifully. There was nothing on your mind but him, how you wanted every part of him, even if it meant enduring misery after misery, and Chuuya was right—if you were to love Dazai, you needed to love every part of him, even when it seemed impossible.

A whine escaped you and you were reaching out to him, knowing he’d never let you live down your humiliation, but the future was not a part of your logical thinking, not now. “Want you inside me.”

“Surely you can hold off for a few minutes,” Dazai said, though the way his toned chest pressed to your own, and how he kissed your face with a tenderness you’d forgotten made it nearly impossible for you to refrain. “So desperate for my cock.”

You wanted to touch yourself—you would’ve, had you not been so nervous of the fact that Chuuya could come in at any minute.

“Tell him to leave,” you said, dragging your fingers through his hair, finally kissing him like you’d been wanting to, and the sound was sinful, heavy with lust as you forced a taste into his mouth, wishing every part of him was a part of you too. “I don’t want him or anyone else, just you, I promise—” 

Dazai cut you off and ignored your pleas; he smiled against your lips, though it was anything but kind. “I think he’ll enjoy seeing you like this, won’t he? You’ve got such a filthy mouth on you when you’re fucked properly.” He kissed his way down your chest, resting his face just above your breasts. “I bet Chuuya didn’t see this side of you, did he?” Dazai licked a circle around your nipple, tugging it between his teeth. “I’ve done nothing but call you names and you’re dripping all over the sheets.”

You shook your head, feeling pained by how badly you wanted release.

“Of course not.” Dazai sat back up like he could sense Chuuya approaching from the other side of the door, his presence bold and detectible. “He’s forgotten what’s mine, after all.” He smiled at you once more, kissing you with a kind of love that only he could portray, the kind that was nowhere close to innocent. “Don’t cum until I tell you to. Be good for me, okay?”

Dazai had always known what to say to you, even when your relationship was falling apart, even when you hated him more than you loved him. His words could be so tender, the praise melted in with the unkind quips of his tongue. It was the gentlest tone he’d used since your clothes had come off, and you couldn’t help but melt under him, nodding like you’d give him anything he asked of you.

Of course you would.

Dazai traced your features delicately, grinning maniacally, ears attuned to the quiet that broke from the footsteps approaching. His cock was lined up against your dripping hole, and it took every ounce of restraint not to plant yourself on it, trying so hard to please him, the sinful man who held too much power over you.

“You’re so pretty like this, aren’t you? My beautiful little whore, always willing to take whatever I give you.”

“’Samu,” you babbled, blinking away the tears as you latched onto him, wishing you could spare yourself the humiliation, but too drunk on him to care. He shifted you forward, taking your thighs in his hands and placing them around his waist. “I can’t take it all at once—”

“You’ve done it before. Do it again.” He growled, squeezing your throat once more in one smooth motion, thrusting into you. And though you had doubted how prepared you were, he slid into you easily, already so loose and pliant from his fingers. “See? Never forgot the shape of me, sweetheart. Even after you’ve been with another man.”

You let out a choked moan as Chuuya walked into the room, lost in the ache and the burn and the pleasure that came with loving and fucking Dazai.

There was one singular pass of silence before Chuuya spoke, letting the door shut with a quiet click on the hinge. “Boss—” Chuuya was hesitant, though his eyes were immediately drawn to you, raking over your blissed-out form. “You said to—” His hand was still on the knob, though he was distracted, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, ashamed but so full of want that it ached.

“Come in, Chuuya,” Dazai said sharply, his words solid and commanding, and you couldn’t help it when you clenched around him, drawing him further into you with nails scraping down his back. “We should discuss something.”

“Well, can we talk about it when you’re not in the middle of fucking your girl?” Chuuya asked, swallowing down the desire he hid so poorly. His cheeks had flushed, words just on the edge of stumbling and slurring together. “Another time, maybe.”

“This is the perfect time, actually,” Dazai stopped moving, already breathing heavily above you as you stared, whined, needing so badly for him to stop teasing you. “Besides,” his eyes drifted knowingly to Chuuya’s obvious erection as he laughed darkly. “I don’t think you mind so much.”

Dazai pulled back painfully slowly before sinking into you with a quicker thrust, your back arching off the mattress to catch even more of him inside of you. A barely noticeable sweat had broken against his hairline, and you stared at him, mouth slightly agape in awe at the boss of the Port Mafia, the one you somehow had wrapped around your little finger.

Your breathing had grown unsteady as his cock got deeper and deeper inside of you, hitting where you’d never been quite able to get with your fingers, the thickness of him catching on every sensitive part inside of you. His hand was back between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit, and you weren’t sure you could last much longer, not as he carried on a conversation with Chuuya, who watched you with darkened eyes, barely holding himself back.

“Please, Osamu,” you were practically begging now, your cheeks glistening with wetness as you clawed at the muscles between his shoulder blades, surely leaving bruises all down his spine. “Please, please, let me cum.”

Dazai made a tsk noise in the back of his throat. “Not yet. I don’t think you deserve it quite yet, does she, Chuuya?”

Chuuya sniffed, shifting uncomfortably as his pants grew tighter. “Gonna punish her all day, boss? Such a pretty thing should get what she wants, shouldn’t she?”

Dazai dropped his chest closer to you, going deeper into you, and you cried out his name, though your eyes were still locked with Chuuya, as if he were going to be your savior. You remembered how gently he’d touched you, how careful he was, and you wondered why you’d ever wanted that at all.

“Chuuya thinks he can fuck you better than me, darling, but you know that’s not true, don’t you? He’d spoil you too much, but this is what you want, right? You want to be called a stupid fucking cockslut.” Dazai grinned against your lips, whispering in a breath that only you could hear. “Just so that at the end of it all, you’ll be my good girl.”

You whimpered, soaking him as you clenched harder. Your brain had gone numb from the feeling of him. Dazai was smiling viciously, but you could see the underlying tenderness.

“She looks so pretty right now, doesn’t she Chuuya? Not a single thought in that beautiful little head of hers.” He smiled at him knowingly, dark hair flopping into his eyes as the rest of the loose tendrils stuck to his forehead. “You’re lucky. You’ve gotten two chances to see her now. Twice as many as most men who fantasize about fucking a woman that sleeps in another man’s bed.”

Chuuya’s voice was raw, his words cracked. “You’re sick, Dazai,” he said, clenching his hands into fists. “Putting on a show like this just to punish me.”

“You and I both know you’re enjoying this.” Dazai traced your cheeks sweetly, kissing your lips deeply. You let out a strangled breath into his mouth, something on the precipice of a moan. “Can you do one thing for me, pretty girl? One more, then I’ll let you cum, how’s that?”

You nodded, desperately, as Dazai’s fingers finally dipped back down, rubbing agonizingly light circles.

“Tell Chuuya who’s making you feel this way,” Dazai said, pushing your face away from him to stare straight into Chuuya’s dark eyes. “Tell him who you love the most.”

“You,” you gasped out, clenching tighter around him. What an easy request to make—you’d never loved anyone else. “I’m in love with you.”

Dazai sniffed, though he was patient, slowing his thrusts almost to a stop. “Not good enough. I need you to be more specific.”

You cried out, locking your ankles onto his hips, trying to force him back into you. But Dazai didn’t budge, watching you until you provided the answer that he so desired. “I love you, Dazai.”

He frowned, shaking his head once more. “My name. Say it. It sounds so sweet from your lips.”

“Osamu,” you choked out. “I love you, Osamu. I love you. I love you.”

Dazai finally smiled above you, gently tracing your cheeks with his thumb as he slowed down the pace of his hips. “I love you too, darling.” His words were soft, whispered into your lips before he turned away, meeting eyes with Chuuya across the room. “See?”

Chuuya was glowering, stiff as a board, his face pink, and his legs shaky. “I got it, Boss.” He choked out, though his eyes were on you, unable to leave your body, even as he tried so hard to be polite. His aching cock strained against his pants, and he breathed sharply, swallowing over and over. “Do I need to be here any longer?”

Dazai laughed, and you thought he looked so pretty when he did that, his smile flashing wide and alluring, the corners of his eyes crinkling marginally. “Never said you had to stay. I figured you’d want to watch her come undone one last time.”

Chuuya, for as noble as he wanted himself to be, made no move to leave, glued to the spot on the floor beyond your bed. He was just across the room, but you couldn’t focus on anyone but Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, the man who you’d killed and bled and committed horrible acts for.

You said his name again, scrambling to bring his attention back to you, hands on his face with a desperation you didn’t realize you’d possessed.

And Dazai, with the kindness of a man he wasn’t, placed his hands just above your stomach, leaving kisses across your chin as he thrust into you, sweetly, menacingly, one last time. “You did so good, my love. You can cum now. Make a mess all over my cock, beautiful.”

You jerked, squeezing around him as you felt the pressure in you finally release, the colors shifting and changing between your high as Dazai brought you in and out of an orgasm, his words reaching your muddled brain with soothing noises. Your body twitched as your muscles spasmed, sweat gathering in the space under your knees. There was little in your mind, save for the dark-haired man that had quickly become your whole world.

You smiled lazily, lacing your fingers with Dazai as you slowly began to come back to yourself. The world around you was empty. Chuuya had all but disappeared into a block of nothingness as you stared into the world itself. If there was no Dazai, there was no you, and it was as simple as that. He was everything you’d ever wanted—you’d be a fool to ever left him go.

As you regained your breathing, still sensitive all over, Dazai came inside you, spilling hot release into you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care, too busy being satisfied with the feeling of him all over you.  His hands never left you—he was delicate, caring, pressing loving touches into your skin as you recovered from your high.

“I’m yours, Osamu,” you said, closing your eyes as you basked against the bed, wanting nothing more than to curl up against him, bury yourself in the warmth of another body. 

He smiled against your cheeks, lips flushed and bruised. “I know you are,” he said to you only, before pulling away. You shivered, but opened your eyes, and he’d already held the gun out to you, presenting it as an offering. “That’s why you’ll be the one to kill him.”

It took you all of ten seconds to remember who him was, and that the man who had borne witness to your most intimate moments with Dazai had not disappeared and was still gawking at you from the corner of the room.

“What?” you asked stupidly, your jaw falling open.

“You heard me.” Dazai pressed the pistol into your palm, curling your fingers around the handle. It was like ice against your hot body, and though it’d been years since your first time firing such a weapon, you suddenly felt like you were there again, uncertain, and afraid of the dangerous firearm. “Kill him.”

You stared at Chuuya, the honest man who, even despite his rough exterior, had been there for you since you were kids. You remembered how the three of you had been so close, for such a long time, until Dazai had gone and killed Mori and fucked it all up.

It felt wrong. The entire situation was wrong, and it never should’ve come to this.

“It’s Chuuya,” you said with tired eyes, something in your voice pleading and desperate.  

Dazai shrugged, holding you close against him as you struggled to sit up in the bed. Your muscles ached and you were still so sensitive, but reality was coming back to you. This was all a mess, and you wanted so badly to feel shame at everything you had done, but you were trying so hard just to–

“You’d think I’d let him live after what he did?”

“Osamu.” You weren’t sure you could bear it. You’d always sworn to kill whatever adversary Dazai and the Port Mafia faced, but Chuuya would always be an exception. You wanted him in your life as much as you wanted Dazai, someone you could trust without fail, who would listen to you complain even when it hurt him. “I won’t do it. He’s my friend. I thought he was yours too.”

Dark eyes full of disdain met your own, and he pinched your jaw once more, a mixture of devastating anger. “I can’t allow a traitor to live. I’ll kill him if you won’t. Then, I’ll kill you. Then myself.”

You shoved him away, suddenly wishing you weren’t so exposed, on display in the middle of the room. “Then fucking do it already, Dazai. What are you waiting for?” A tear broke free from your eye, and you wiped it furiously, not giving him a chance to mock you.

“Stop.” Chuuya finally spoke, his voice drawing your attention like a commandment, and you fell silent, refocusing on him as he bowed before you, dropping to his knees. Eyes locked onto your own without a single fear, cruel acceptance surrounding dark pupils. “It’s alright. I deserve to die. I’ve broken your trust, boss. I might as well be a traitor to the Mafia.” He swallowed, though he was unwavering. “I don’t want to live with this feeling any longer.”

“Don’t say that.” you spat, hating that such a strong man was giving himself over, exposing every weary weakness that he’d come to carry. “You don’t mean it.”

“I do.” He sighed, straightening his spine as he leaned forward towards your hand, much as you had done before, and you realized that this was such a sick, twisted change of fate. That the affection you’d always doubted was real after all, but Chuuya was still left playing the fool.

Perhaps, you were of the same vein, wanting desperately to die in the heavenly hand of the one you loved most. You could understand him for that. You could grant him one final wish.

“Do you regret any of it?” Dazai asked, as the wheels in your head spun, the decision dawning upon you, handed over from the ancient tragedies, rival even to the gloomy romances of Shakespeare.

Chuuya shifted towards the other man, looking into his cold, distant eyes. “No,” he said honestly, his jaw set. “I don’t regret it because now I know she’ll never love me. She’s all yours Dazai. Always has been. Always will be. Does that satisfy you?”

There wasn’t an ounce of fury in his expression when Dazai smiled back.

“You heard him,” Dazai said, lifting your limp arm by the elbow, pointing it like a skilled tutor. The gun was on Chuuya’s forehead, between his eyebrows, and your finger was on the trigger. Dazai’s whisper was like the Devil on your shoulder, and you were falling fast, your last shred of morality burnt from papery resolve. His hand supported your weakened muscles, guiding you along like you’d never before committed such an act. “You’re an assassin, aren’t you?”

You stiffened, narrowing your eyes before cocking the gun, mustering up the last bit of strength you had left. Chuuya couldn’t have looked more prepared for death, and you basked in Dazai’s prideful smile as he branded it into the crook of your neck.

“You’re certain?” you said to Chuuya, once more, hand no longer shaking despite your guilt.

The man, nothing more than a victim, nodded, and he had the audacity to smile, to look peaceful about his release from this life.

“I’m sorry, Chuuya. You shouldn’t have to bear the weight of my sin.” “It’s mine to carry, just as it is yours,” he scoffed, eyes hard with resolve. “Of all the things that would land me in Hell, I hardly believe this is the worst.”

You nodded, regrettably, and took a steely breath, erasing the heat the stung behind your eyes.

Then, you pulled the trigger. You waited for Chuuya’s brains to stain your floors, for the remnants of his skull to shatter all across the wall behind him. For the life to slowly drain from his stunningly bright eyes, leaving you with nothing but a corpse that would rot away wherever Dazai chose to toss his body.

Though, none of those things happened, and you stared at each other with fierce incredulity, knowing that you’d unwillingly become puppets in Dazai’s dramatic play, a show put on for no one’s entertainment but his own.

You’d been completely senseless, an idiot, really. The gun had felt lighter than usual, and you’d ignored it, even when you should’ve known it housed no bullets.

“Dazai?” you said in a low voice, dangerously, twisting to look at him from over your shoulder. An anger you’d never felt before had bubbled up inside of you, your heart thundering with a fierceness you hadn’t realized was a part of you. “There’s no bullets.”

“Obviously,” he scoffed, taking the gun away like it was but a toy, throwing it onto the armchair in the corner. “I’d never kill the strongest ability-user in the Mafia. You both should know me better by now.”

You scowled, the ugly expression marring your face, and Dazai frowned, leaning forward to appease you. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You played me for a fool. Was all of this an act?” you cried, wondering if maybe Dazai had been lying this entire time. Maybe all those sweet words he said had never been true, and you had fallen for them anyway, like the mindless pawn you were.

“Which part?” Dazai asked, but you could tell that he knew what answer you sought, what lies you wanted to unveil.

“You know which part,” you said, moving away from him, not sure what emotion to grant control. You felt an intense amount of fury, misery, and pity for yourself, who’d never asked Dazai for anything but to be on your side, and he still couldn’t give you that. “Fuck you, Dazai.”

Your lip quivered, but if you’d begun to cry, shame would swallow you up and drown you in the dark abyss of misery. You would have no other choice but to throw yourself out the window, where everyone in the Port Mafia could bear witness to all the ways that Dazai had ruined you.

“Boss—”

Chuuya’s sentence was cut off sharply.

You’d tried to climb out of the bed, but Dazai had grabbed your wrist, stopping you before you could escape from him once and for all. Though he spoke to Chuuya, his eyes were hard on you, never leaving the set he stared into as you swallowed over and over, trying to think of anything but the sick feeling in your chest.

“You can leave now, Chuuya. Consider this your lucky day.” His voice was icy, threatening, and though Chuuya lingered a moment before climbing to his feet, he spared you nothing but a small glance in return.

You inhaled, then exhaled, trying to stop the simmering of blood within your veins, feeling the heavy weight of his hand on your wrist. As you sat there in silence, waiting for him to be the one to break it, you started to wonder how much of this was really Dazai’s fault, and how much you were the one to blame.

“It was a test.” Dazai tried to bring your attention back to him, letting only a fragment of emotion drain into his voice, though it was enough to slowly, slowly pique your fascination once more. “That was all.”

You wet your lips, though your tongue was just as papery. “So none of it was real.”

“What do you mean?” Dazai came to sit in front of you, his skin pale in the dark lighting, and you could see the cracks in his facade, and maybe this splinter in your failing relationship would slowly begin to heal itself. “Everything I said was very much real.”

His soft fingertips traveled up your arm, curling around your shoulder, across your collarbone, before settling in that delicate space between your jaw and your ear. There was a starry look in his eyes, the twin pair that had been exposed.

“Why would you do something like that to me?” you said, scrunching your face in remorse, wanting to slither away from him, even as he drew you closer, close enough to smell the expensive cologne he wore, the liquor that he favored when you were away. His hair had been freshly washed, and the smell of shampoo still lingered, even under the thin layer of sweat.

“Why would you do something like that to me?” Dazai countered, the hurt not veiled in the slightest this time, and it didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. Heat flooded to your cheeks, and you were looking away, wondering why he was pulling you close to his chest when he should be hating you with the passion of a thousand fiends. “How could I trust you after that?”

You parted your lips to speak, but your jaw was locked, and the inside of your mouth tasted like cotton.

“I’m not a good man,” Dazai said, kissing the shell of your ear, your temple, and you squeezed your eyes shut, clinging to his bicep. “You’ve always known this. Yet, for as often as you talk about me with disgust dripping from your words, I’ve never sought to bring you pain.” He breathed in deeply, and you buried your face into his chest, wondering how much longer it’d be before you wept. “You’ve caused me pain.”

You tried to cry out, to tell him that you never thought it would hurt him, but he’d seen the very same in you, hadn’t he? You’d never given him any indication that the coldness in his words was bothering you, that the blurred lines of your relationship were getting confusing and hurtful, and he had done the same.

“We’re not good for each other, Osamu,” you whispered quietly, your lip quivering. The weight of your voice shattered against your vocal cords.

He let out a breathy laugh, smiling against your forehead. “On the contrary, I think we’re the perfect fit.”

For what reason he believed that, you weren’t sure.

You clenched your jaw tight, but it didn’t stop the feeling of tears from overwhelming you, hot droplets that spilled heavy from your eyes, running off your chin to Dazai’s chest. Your hands shook, clenched around his arms so tightly you were sure you were breaking the skin.

Dazai pulled away, monitoring your face with concern. You hated the way he looked at you with such pity when he was the reason for such pain. Yet, you couldn’t help but curl into him, warm, never wanting to escape from his reverence. “Why are you crying, my sweet angel?”

Nausea soured your mouth, and the regret that tinged you, tainted you, was vastly overwhelming. It was horrible in a way that you’d never felt.

It struck you, then, that you’d been blind to Dazai’s every affection, too ignorant to notice the ways that they had shifted as his life did. He no longer held your hand over the table during meetings, but the chair beside his was just as grandiose, and he greeted you with something of a smile when you walked into each room. He no longer accompanied you on assignments, but you were always taken care of, in a hotel most people couldn’t afford with a partner that could singlehandedly take out a hundred men. He no longer picked you flowers from a wild field as he’d done as a boy, but the vase on the table always held a beautiful bouquet of deep, red roses, without a single wilting flower.  

Chuuya, all this time, all these years had been right. There was no use in loving Dazai if you couldn’t stand him in his darkest hour, the bitter ugly side of him that no one wanted to see.

You’d never thought about it, really, but you’d changed just as he had. Everyone in the Mafia had blood on their hands, was ruined in more ways than one, and you were no exception. If loving Dazai meant loving those parts of him, then loving you meant just the same.

The tears fell harder, and Dazai seemed panicked, stricken, always so oblivious when it came to the affairs of your heart, and sometimes he tried, but you couldn’t hate him if he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you said pitifully, knowing from the spoiled heart in your very chest had ruined everything. “I’m sorry.” You said it again and again until Dazai was shushing you, running a large, cool palm down your back, the only way he knew to soothe you.

“I wish I’d never done it. I wish I’d just spoken to you, asked you, anything—” you wiped your face, heavy breaths stuttering before Dazai took your hands away, and erased the tears for you. “I just thought you hated me. It was the only thing that made sense.”

Dazai smiled sadly, because no one had taught him to love. How was he to know that he’d been doing it wrong all this time. “I wish I’d seen it before. I didn’t mean to push you away.” He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder with a weariness that he’d been born with. “I’m sorry.”

A tingling sensation began under your skin, and you were warm all over, realizing just how much that apology had meant to you. For some reason, it felt like coming home.

The strong grip that nostalgia had on you gradually began to melt away.

#chuuya x you #dazai x you #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #bsd x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #chuuya nakahara x you #osamu dazai x you #chuuya x fem!reader #dazai x fem reader #bsd chuuya #nakahara chuuya #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #chuuya x reader x dazai #bsd smut #dazai smut #chuuya smut #osamu dazai smut #chuuya nakahara smut #rylie writes ₊˚🎧

[givemea-dam-break]

like real people do (anthony lockwood x reader)

a/n: anthony bloody lockwood is hozier coded you cannot convince me otherwise!! i considered making this a locklyle fic, but i wasn't too sure. let me know if you guys want me to write a locklyle version lol. this is shorter than my usual, but i was listening to hozier and got inspired lmao

warnings: mentions of panic attacks gn reader

In the darkness, you can feel his fingers wrapped around yours and the faint pulse beating within them, steady and assuring. His hand is warm, and the knowledge that he is simply next to you, holding your hand so tenderly, is enough to soothe the horrible beating of your heart and the tightness of your throat.

He doesn't need to say anything. He's never needed to, for he understands the tornado that tore through your mind and stole the air from your lungs. Many nights have been spent in the reverse of this, with you holding him as he gasps and cries. It's a horrible situation to be in for both of you, but you've adapted. What else could you do?

So, as he so gently brushes the hair from your face, you breathe in the familiar scent of too-bitter tea as if it is the very thing keeping you alive.

"You're safe," he murmurs. "I'm here."

He is. He always has been. Ever since you met, he's been there, pulling you from the bad memories that have always clung to you. He's the reason why the nightmares are less frequent now, why you feel safe enough to sleep at night. But never once has he pushed to know what causes it all. And neither have you.

It's astounding how little you can know about a person, and how little they know about you, and yet still be their biggest source of solace.

Anthony Lockwood has been that for you for years, now. Ever since you moved to London, running from a past you feared you'd never escape, he has kept you safe, has comforted you whenever you've needed it without a single question. He's let you keep your secrets, and you've let him keep his, but you're both always there, waiting with a net to catch the broken pieces, and glue to put them back together.

You had never expected to find such a person in London. In all honesty, you came here only to run and hide, but you found him in the process, led by some string of fate. Everything you did in your first few days here led you to him as if some part of your subconscious knew he was waiting for someone to catch, someone to fall on.

Gently, he guides your head to his chest, where you let it rest as you listen to his heartbeat. With each strong pulse, you breathe in the scent of him and the promise of recuperation.

Wordlessly, his free hand rubs your back softly, and you find it easier to breathe now. It's as if with each brush of his hand, he reopens a part of your lungs.

"How are you feeling?" he asks quietly.

Your throat hurts and your voice is weak, but you say, "Better."

Not good. Not even okay. Just better. The world doesn't feel as though it is crashing on top of you now, nor does it feel like your lungs are being squeezed of every last vestigial of air they hold. You feel a little lighter, but your throat aches. Your chest hurts. Your skin feels strange and like it's not even yours. But you're better than before. It's an improvement.

He presses a gentle kiss on the back of your head. "Want some tea?"

"It's three in the morning."

"It's never stopped us before."

You can practically hear his smile. "Okay."

You're grateful that he brings you with him, that he doesn't leave you alone in the dark. No, he takes your hand so delicately as if he's worried it'll crumble if he holds it too hard, and he leads you quietly from the floor of the library down, down, down, to the kitchen.

He doesn't turn on the light, instead opting to open the fridge door and use that for light. Every so often, he shuts it and reopens it to prevent the little warning alarm inside from going off, but you appreciate it nonetheless. The big light would be far too blinding and disorientating. In no time, he's made both of you a cup of tea and sets the steaming mugs down atop the cluttered thinking cloth. Now, he shuts the fridge and opens the blinds.

It's summer, and although it's still the early hours of the morning, the sky is no longer an all-consuming inky black, but rather a dark navy that you know will get lighter. Pathetic fallacy, if you've ever seen it.

As Lockwood sips his tea, one of his hands always stays wrapped around yours as a reminder. He's here. You're not alone. Breathe. He's here.

There is no person you could ever be more grateful for than him. Throughout it all - the fall-outs you've had, the worst of your breakdowns, the worst of his - he has never left your side. He has always taken your hand in his and led you from the endless dark and into the slowly-rising sun.

You may not have been looking for him when you moved, but you'll always be glad that you found him.

And, so, as he kisses your forehead, the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your smile slowly returns. You're not perfect, nor is he, and your pasts have left you with more than you can handle, but he is slowly guiding you away from it all, as you are him. Like real people do.

#anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

[cluelessgurl]

Give In

A/N: Okay so I have not written something this long in a hot minute sooo... please ignore any mistakes or let me know and I will fix them. I wrote this after listening to a couple of songs and then got inspired mainly ‘Shameless’ by Camilla Cabello if you want to listen to it I’d recommend towards the end . lmao enjoy :)

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Female Reader

Warnings: A bit of fluff, a heap load of angst, long separation, reunion and implied smut. 

Words: 2.6K

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Your whole life, you’ve known him. The day that you first laid your eyes on the Jedi temple, you laid eyes on him. He remembers meeting you a few weeks after arriving at the temple himself, you timidly peered at him whilst slightly hiding behind your masters robes. Master Windu never really approved of him from the start yet, Obi- Wan thought it wise for him to make friends and be among his peers at the temple, so your master hesitantly obliged.

‘My name's Anakin, what's yours?’ he enquired trying to conceal his own shyness with a grin; he never really spoke to many pretty girls back at Tatooine let alone at the temple. Ironically, you thought he was rather confident for a young boy, which encouraged you to match his grin ‘I’m Y/N, nice to meet you’. Anakin now smirked and held out his hand, which you shook ‘Y/N..I think we’re going to be great friends’.

Little did you both know that your friendship would blossom even further. Further than the boundary of the code would ever allow. It’s a bit trivial really, how could your masters let the two of you grow together, become a constant in each other's lives, until it really became one life shared by two souls and not expect an attachment to form. Years of training, shedding laughter, tears and blood in missions. So much so that you anticipated every move and very word the other would conjure in their mind. Yet both of you remained utterly clueless of the brewing sense of affection that swelled in your hearts since the days you were mere padawans sneaking out at night to stare at the Coruscanti stars in the courtyard to Jedi knights fighting for each other’s lives in the frontlines of the battle against the Separatists.

‘ANAKIN!!’ you didn’t care if you were in the line of fire right now, you could not give a damn ‘R-Rex I need you to handle this please, please’ you voice trembled as you spoke into your comm ‘Yes Sir’ he knew you had just seen him cornered and shot down, he knew you needed to be by his side. ‘Anakin you need to wake up right this second’ you controlled the tears brimming in your eyes, not daring to let even one shed because if you did you had accepted the worst. ‘Anakin GET UP’ you uttered firmly, shaking his form on the rocky floor continually for what felt like hours. He made no attempt to move or even open those blue eyes of his so you closed your own. Finally, the tears shed down your face, you laid your head on his chest trying to hear his heart ‘A-Anakin stop this please.. Just stop’ you spoke between sobs his life force was nowhere to be detected ‘I cant feel you! Stop please don’t do this to me’ ‘I CAN’T FEEL YOU’ you bellowed into his neck repeatedly.Throughout the years of fighting in this godforsaken war you had faced torture by the hands of your captors time and time againbut this, this was something beyond any pain your body ever was built to withstand, this felt as though your own heart didn’t beat, given the choice you would endure years of physical torture by the cruelest hands over this. This was pain that struck from the tip of your feet to the top of your head, rippling again and again.  You gripped his arms and held them as tight as a rope and sobbed as you shook vigorously , strands of his long hair on his limp head now shaking too. ‘ I refuse to live knowing I failed to save you! I refuse’ you didn't want to face not having the opportunity to hear his voice dampen the dark thoughts you carried in your head, not being able to see his signature smirk that you had found so annoying before but now when you look back on it, you remember how his eyes at the corners of his face would crinkle when he would smile or smirk,  how his presence was the closest thing you had ever felt to home so warm so soothing, how you loved the sound of his laughter especially if you made it happen. No. No. You could not give in to this, this can't happen. You forced your pained body to sit up, your knees now cut up by the shards of rock and shrapnel now pushing into you knees as you bent, forcing all the pain behind you closed you tear soaked eyes and called out into the force and pulled each and every corner of its unfathomable depth and did your utmost best to soak it in and push it out towards Anakin’s body. It was the greatest plea for mercy you had ever attempted, it had to work. It has to. He’s the chosen one, he’s the order’s most powerful, he’s the most valiant knight in this war…he’s your Anakin .It has to work.

The silence that followed was deafening despite the marching of the droids and the yelling of your troops in the background. It left your chest heaving. He made no movement. You tightly shut the lids of your eyes, gripping your hair so hard it might rip out and turn your head facing away from his form. But- but you had felt the exhausting intensity of the force within you,  so much so you swore you felt your own life force being pulled towards him like strands of thread being ripped from cloth. You swore you felt it.

Just as more tears flew out your lids, you were forced to turn your head in a flash. You felt a grip on your arm. ‘Y-y/N..’ his timid voice uttered from his bleeding lips. You felt as though you had regained your ability to breathe ‘Anakin.. You’re really here? That's you right?’ There was a moment of silence as he found his words, finding it difficult to move much  until he spoke again ‘Well who else would it be?’ he spoke sarcastically. How he’s able to maintain his humour in a moment like this is truly beyond you . You bitterly scoffed ‘Guess your sense of humour survived’ you smiled through your tears just glad to see his own toothy grin etched on his scarred face ‘You’re no where near funny though, I’m sick of the stunts you pull’ ‘Y/N’ he interrupted but you continued  ‘I swear to the maker I’m so done with you’ ‘Y/N’  I’m telling the council to keep me away from you’ you rambled ‘Y/N listen to me!’ ‘What?!’ you replied frustrated as you finally found it within yourself to look him in the eyes, you immediately melted. ‘I’m in love with you.. And you’re right I’m stupid for waiting this long to know it and letting it get this far, I felt your pain, I felt everything and I still feel you within me I think I always will, I don't ever not want to feel it again, I’m so utterly in love with you’.  As soon as he finished, you did not leave it even a second to give in, give into the urge you both knew you nurtured over the years and you kissed him, it was the most beautiful culmination of the closest bond Y/N and Anakin had ever had, they were finally one. It was soft and tender, both their bodies intertwined ‘I love you too, more than anything or anyone in this whole galaxy, I love you’ you breathed out. The biggest smiles that had ever decorated their faces, hands tightly held. Their love was not bound or complicated anymore.

Until it was. ‘Jedi Knight L/N, step away from Skywalker immediately.’ the sharp voice of your master tore through your ears. You looked up to see him and Master Kenobi looking down at both of your figures tightly woven. Rex must have called for back-up as soon as you told him to take over, knowing the battle was too much for the troops to handle alone. Both you and Anakin had been so immersed in one another you had not felt the familiar presence of your masters, but both of you knew that they had witnessed your admission of love. All of it. ‘You both have disgraced all that the Jedi Order stands for, you have acted selfishly, unrepentantly indulging in the apparent attachment you have formed, almost jeopardising the Republic and the war.’ As their harsh expressions stared at you, you both peered at each other, looking into his deep blue eyes whilst Anakin focused on yours.

And that was the last time in a year you had seen them and he had seen yours. They told you that you should be grateful that you had not been expelled, that you should be grateful that you had been forgiven. It didn't feel like a relief, it felt a punishment. The most cruel one at that. Never had you been kept apart like this, the first separation you had faced since your padawan days, like a tree torn from its roots. The council kept both of you busy with one gruelling mission after another consecutively, systems apart.

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After a particularly harrowing mission from Hadros the Republic frontier, Anakin was  finally sent back ‘home’ to Coruscant. The war seemed so mechanical now. He felt no different than the droids, sent to fight as though it was automated. What was the meaning of it all if you were supposed to fight for it but not care for it, no attachments. His head reminded him yet again. Obi- Wan insisted he sympathised with him yet he had drilled this further into his mind after.. He didn’t let his mind wander to her. It was too painful. Ever since that day on the battle of Caraxes, where you brought his essence to life, he had felt a tight tether to you. He meant what he said, he felt everything she had felt, her pain, her tears. He believes the force has tied a knot, intertwining him and you. A part of Y/N in him. He swears sometimes, he hears whispers of your voice in his mind when he’s in pain, which has only happened more now that he's kept apart from you. He shuffled restlessly in the bed of his quarters, sleep has not been a familiar friend of his, your memories on the other hand, had been. He needed to attempt to control his qualms so he decided to take a familiar walk in the temple, in the quiet safety of the night.

Your ship the Custodian, had just arrived back to Coruscant deep into the night after it had sustained unmanageable damage. This particular battle had taken a heavy toll on your troops and especially on you. The  war had caused so much loss, and taken too many lives. This battle had taken the lives of a large part of your troops, their deaths had hit you to the core of your being. Death ever since Caraxes, had the most scarring effect on your mind, every death you witnessed, was a callous reminder of him.. his memories constantly haunted you. Coming back here on top of the heavy feelings you carried was inexplicably painful. The temple carried far too many memories you two had shared. Joyful ones, a stark contrast to the memories you had made since the day you parted. Your mind felt so burdened by the past year and this mission that your mind was brimming with dark thoughts.You needed a release, you felt yourself wanting to cry and so you found your feet wandering to the familiarity of the temple courtyard. It was a stormy night filled with lighting and relentless rain, which is rare for Coruscant, ‘but I guess that conceals the very obvious tears falling from my face’, you pondered, ‘At least the maker has shown mercy’. You found yourself in the centre of the courtyard, pulling your lightsaber out to release some tension by training, it's the nearest thing to a distraction you had found along the way.  The deep blue hue reflected on the drenched ground, as your tunic became further damp. The swift, violent strike of the saber whooshing against the whistling wind. Your wet hair swayed messily, tears mixing within the rain as the force grasped for your attention. You swore you felt his presence, but you dismissed it as a cruel deceit of your mind. It had been tormenting you with his voice every now and then, almost taunting you for being torn apart. You continued.

Anakin paced, evidently on edge as the rain poured and the wind roared, his eyes roamed aimlessly until a clear blue hue similar to his own in the distance caught his eye. He felt himself impulsively walking towards it with no care for the rain that now dripped down his face and soaked his battle-worn armour. He wandered as slow as his legs would allow, scared to face the possibility that his mind had yet again betrayed him. Yet when his eyes fell on her figure, skillfully striking her saber just the way he had become accustomed to all these years, he stopped dead in his tracks, she was beautiful. Although his mind should be racing with thoughts, her being in such close proximity to him quietened every thought he had plaguing his mind in the past, he became focused on the  present, a present with her, as he yet again made steps towards her .

Shivers envelop her, as his hands slowly ghost down her arms. A soft stroke, that both could never allow to be a mere memory. Y/N let out a hushed gasp, goosebumps appearing as her eyes closed, soaking in the feeling of his touch. He had been deprived of her and now as he heard her gasps under his touch he was desperate to hold her in his arms as close to his firm as physically possible. His mind wandered to avenues they had never dared venture to, it was a cavernous desire forged by his relentless yearning for her. It became explicit to her that his mere presence was intoxicating, the type of intoxication that forces one to relinquish any morals, any code that confines them. She turned to face him steadily, looking at his eyes,  still the familiar blue that reminded her of home, but  darkened with thoughts she wasn’t trained to comprehend. After a distance of systems, now remained inches in between us, through the sound of the cracks of lightning that lit up both their faces in intervals and the heavy pattering of rain,  the two could discern a dense tension in the air as deep, sharp breaths were drawn between them that could be felt  on their faces. As she glimpsed at his rain dripped lips and he did hers both their voices echoed in the bond of their tied minds. ‘I want you to give in’. These whispers were electrifying so much so, that they both truly gave in, closing the gap that had been created in between by the same order that intertwined their souls from the first day they met when timid smiles were shared between the two. Now, their bond had grown far beyond the boundaries set as  Anakin gripped her face with an unwillingness to ever let go again and clashed his soft lips hungrily against hers. Y/N roped her arms around his arms just as tightly as she had that day he almost left her side forever, making sure to never let go again no matter the order, the restrictions that had trapped them their whole lives. They both didn’t care if they were forgiven.

#star wars #star wars prequels #Star Wars fanfic #star wars art #darth vader x reader #anakin fanfic #Anakin Skywalker #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #The Clone Wars #Revenge of the Sith #phantom menace #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker x you #obi wan kenobi #general skywalker #general reader #Darth Vader #anakin x fem reader #anakin star wars #star wars x y/n #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #sw imagine #sw x reader #anakin needs a hug

[ink-and-blotts]

Day 2 - Submission

Kinktober day 2, which is definitely not 5 days late, I would never post anything late of course ;-;

Warnings: reader is a little bit of a toxic dom at first, punishment mention, marking, blood mention, submissive tomura x dom reader, tory sucking (except tomuras getting his titties sucked lmao), mommy kink, slight degrading + praise, a little bit of cockworship, face fucking, descriptive mentions of his cock + cum, soft aftercare :)

It’s late when you come home to your shared apartment. You’re exhausted at this point, mentally, as you drag yourself up a flight of stairs and to your apartment door.

You’re careful to be quiet as you shut the door behind you—Tomura’s bedtime was just over an hour ago and you know how hard it is to get him back to sleep once he’s awake.

The lights are all off, so you struggle to make your way through the pitch darkness, wincing as you bump into furniture as you make your way to your room. The door’s shut, and you’re careful to keep quiet as you slowly turn the knob and push it open, old hinges screeching in a way that makes you cringe.

You expect to see Tomura asleep in your shared bed, cuddled up in an excessive amount of blankets and cuddling the ridiculously huge plush teddybear you’d won him from the city carnival last year. He’s usually got at least three pillows to accommodate him—one for his head, one for his arms (along with the teddybear), and one between his thighs for comfort. But tonight you see none of that.

He’s laying on his side, covers up to his waist with his shirt off—probably lounging in his boxers despite you buying him so many silky, expensive pajamas for him to wear. Blue light shines onto his face and you see something on his phone, bedsheets rustling slightly, but you’re too far away to see what he’s looking at.

At first, you figure he fell asleep scrolling through social media or something. But then you hear a soft moan coming from his side of the bed, and jealousy sparks in your chest.

Aside from the basic ground rules of a dom-sub relationship, you two really only have one strict rule: no porn for either of you.

It makes you jealous, you had explained when you realized he hadn’t quit his porn addiction after the first few weeks of dating, seeing him cum all over his fist for some other woman. Of course he didn’t know any better—still a virgin when you met with barely any dating experience, he wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do when he needed to shoot off a load, especially when you weren’t around.

You call me, you’d explained, a bit annoyed. Whether you’re at work, with friends, in the other room, you made sure that if he needs to cum, he fucking calls you.

So why was he committing an act of such disrespect? You come home late one night and this is what he does?

You make no effort to stay quiet anymore, dropping your bag onto the floor and storming over to the bed, snatching the phone out of his hand.

“What’s this all about, eh?” You ask.

He jumps, startled, and tries to grab the phone back, but you keep it out of his reach.

“Y-You’re home?”

“What does it look like? I had some entitled customer offer extra money half an hour after closing and got forced to deal with them for another hour—I’m home a little late and you immediately go watching that shit? Did you even think?”

“That shit? What are you talking about?” He sounds nervous, raspy voice shaking as he stares at the phone in your hand and back to your glare.

“You know what I’m talking about, Tomura,” you snap. “You deliberately stayed up past your bedtime because I didn’t come home early, didn’t even bother to lock the door while you jacked off to another girl getting her back blown out, and now you’re lying? Fucking disrespectful,”

“A—Another girl?”

Tomura laughs, unexpected from you even considering his brattiness. He’s usually bold, but he thinks he can laugh about something like this?

“Something funny?” You ask, annoyed. “What kinda shit were you even watching?”

You pick up his phone and unlock it—your face already registered for his ID unlock—and your expression softens.

You expected to see lewd videos of girls with spread legs and abhorrently fake moans, exaggerated expressions and poor scripting as they attempt to make the shit look hot.

But instead you see a social media app, on some account you don’t recognize—you have all his passwords, of course—and dozens of reblogged thirst tweets.

They’re dirty, unbelievably dirty—you knew your baby was a slut, but he can’t even tell you what he wants when you’re about to fuck him, let alone repost these things for anyone on his blog to see.

You stare for a moment, reading through them, and looking back to Tomura’s expression.

His laughs of disbelieve have faded into nervous chuckles, face gone redder than his eyes as he watches you scroll through his phone.

“This is what you were staying up doing?” You ask in disbelief, feeling guilty for yelling at him just a moment ago. “You were the moaning I heard? And—And what’s the fake account for? Who’s is this?”

“I—It’s mine,” he admits sheepishly. “’m sorry, mommy—I should’ve told you I made a new one, but—but then you would’ve looked at it and seen the posts and—”

You shut him up with a messy kiss, lips lazily slotting against his as you cup his burning face, more embarrassment seeping into his cheeks.

“This is what you were doing, up past your bedtime?” You chuckle, laying down next to him and showing him the posts as if he wasn’t the one who saved him. “Do you see how slutty this makes you look?”

“I—I know, mommy, you don’t need to rub it in,” he stammers, tongue tripping over his words as his voice shakes. “I just—”

“These go back for weeks, love,” you tease. “You’ve been reading these for a while, hm? Wishing they were you?”

“Well I—erm—”

You silence him with another kiss, softer this time, and keep scrolling through the posts.

“You want these? You want it to be you?”

“Yes—no! I mean—”

You laugh a little and pull him into your chest, muttering about how that’s just so cute, love, and that if he needed these things so bad, he could’ve just asked.

“‘m’not good at using my words, mommy—you know that!”

“Oh hush,” you sigh, stroking his silvery hair and scrolling into another post.

“If this is what my baby needs so badly, what kind of mommy would I be if I didn’t give it to him?”

You click on one of the posts, laughing at the way he tries to hide his face in your chest.

A pathetic moan forces it’s way from his throat as you read more posts aloud, him whining as he tries to bury his face deeper into your chest.

“Degrading, hm? I knew you were a little slut, but I didn’t know you liked being treated like one,”

He whines again, unable to to stop himself from grinding against your thigh. Even through the material of his boxers you can feel how wet he is, the tip of his cock drooling precum through the fabric. You can’t help but mumble about how cute it is, how wet he is, just from reading a few dirty posts online.

“You know, I really should punish you—you’re up past your bedtime and hid this dirty secret from me for a long time, love,”

“’m sorry, mommy!” He whines, muffled by your shirt. “Needed you—needed to cum so bad and—and I couldn’t do it alone, and you weren’t home and—”

“Shh, baby, hush,” you coo, trailing your fingers down his body. “I won’t punish you tonight, you seem like you really need it, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, please!” He lifts his head to look at you, large puppy eyes boring into yours. “I won’t do it again, p-promise! Jus—Just help me, please?”

You smile softly and set his phone down on your nightstand, fixing your attention on his wide eyes, pathetic tears of yearning and need threatening to spill down onto his cheeks.

You crawl over him, and although he’s bigger than you—taller, heavier, more muscular—he feels so small under your intense gaze, crimson eyes scanning every tiny expression of your face.

“I’m gonna take care of you, love,” you promise, pressing your lips onto his in a bruising kiss before he has the chance to respond.

Slender fingers tangle themselves in your hair, desperately trying to pull you closer, to get more.

Your tongue forces its way into his mouth, his dry lips moving in to suck on it, drowning in your taste. A moan leaves his throat as you move down and bite on his lip, tugging on it until the metallic taste of blood floods your mouth.

Delicate lips make their way down his neck, tongue tracing over self-inflicted scars, covering them with brilliant marks of violet and crimson. You make your way down to his chest, leaving soft bitemarks and gorgeous bruises, tongue lapping over his sensitive nipples before you lean in and suckle, a rush of pride leaving your body in a soft laugh as his hips buck pathetically, lonely cock desperate for attention.

“M-Mommy, please,” he whines, failing to push your head off his overstimulated nipple.

“Please what, love?”

He whines again, a pathetic mewl of your name as his untouched cock twitches in his boxers.

“M-My cock, mommy! Touch me there!”

Normally, such a demanding tone would’ve earned him a hefty punishment—one that would’ve left his ass bruised and red with handprints, a nasty punishment that would’ve ended with him sobbing on his knees, begging for forgiveness.

But tonight you just can’t help but feel bad for him, knowing how needy he must be.

So you stop teasing him and move your focus to his boxers—a sticky, wet print covering the plaid print in the front—and tug them down to his thighs, taking in the sight of his gorgeous cock.

You were far from inexperienced when you met Tomura. Not a slut or a player, but you’d seen plenty of men naked, and you knew how to take care of them. But even ignoring your obvious bias to Tomura, his is still your favorite.

He’s big—longer and thicker than normal, your two hands still not being able to fit him all. A virgin when he met you, he thought his cock was average at best, but nothing like the over exaggerated shit he’d seen. He’d been so adorable, so shy to show it to you for the first time, so confused when you sucked in your breath and told him it’s the biggest you’ve ever seen.

Thick veins wrap around the shaft; your favorite is the fat one that runs along the underside of his cock. And it’s so fucking pretty, a perfect shade of dusty rose, tip turning redder and redder the harder he gets.

Once you’re done admiring him, staring at how pretty his cock is, you slowly wrap your lips around the tip of it.

Precum pools under his foreskin, and you dig your tongue into the slit, giggling as his cock jumps at your touch. You lap up the salty precum, swallowing every delicate drop before taking him further in.

You start slow—or at least, you try to—as you take him in, wanting to savor him, savor the taste of his fat cock on your tongue.

But you’re impatient, can’t wait any longer—and neither can he, as he instinctively bucks his hips up into your face, effectively shoving his length down your throat.

You choke a little around him, throat spawning at the unexpected intrusion, but god, it feels so good just to have him in your mouth.

You allow him to tangle his fingers in your hair, using your mouth like it’s a fucking fleshlight as he forces your head up and down, up and down.

It hurts a little, every slam of your face into his pelvic bone, lips catching on his silvery pubes—but you force yourself to take it, marveling in just how good your baby fe le from your touch.

He moans louder and louder, switching between cries of your name and “f-fuck, mommy!-” as he uses you to get himself off.

It doesn’t take long before his cock twitches in your mouth, and you know he’s close. You moan around his cock, an unspoken plea for him to finish in your mouth.

And despite not being able to form words, Tomura knows, Tomura always knows what his mommy wants.

So he gives it to you, a final thrust of his hips having him moan out a cry of your name as he paints your throat with hot, thick ropes of cum.

You pull off a moment later and swallow, savoring the taste of his cum in your mouth as you clean him up with your tongue.

He’s still panting when you come back up to his face and pull him into your chest, poor baby still struggling to come down from his orgasm.

But it’s your soft embrace, your plush lips pressing gentle kisses into his skin as he calms down, your voice hushing him through it that helps him slowly drift off.

As he cuddles into your body, feeling your loving arms around him, just one thought runs through his mind.

God, he fucking loves you.

#tomura smut #shigaraki smut #bnha smut #kinktober 2022 #tomura x reader #dom reader #sub shigaraki #dom/sub #kinktober smut #kinktober day 2

[eddiebillysteve]

a/n: idk it's sad boy hours and i just wrote a little blip based on this post, not really edited so anyway enjoy??? lmao (trigger warnings for abandonment/anxiety/mentions of the mindflayer and the ptsd billy has from it)

“You’re late, Harrington.”

Steve knew Billy didn’t like being late for anything himself, but he wasn’t expecting his anxiety around tardiness to be passed along to him, too. It wasn’t that he was one of those people that just showed up late to everything in general, it was just unpreventable sometimes. 

He didn’t think being late by a couple of minutes would push Billy back to the last name step. 

“Baby, it’s—“ Steve looked at his watch before looking back out the window at his scowling boy. “3:04. That’s hardly late.” 

“I didn’t tell you 3:04, did I? I told you 3.” Billy’s voice was a snap hard enough to make Steve wince. Their relationship hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing, but he thought he had been doing a good job teaching Billy about communicating why he was upset and angry when his temper arose. 

“I know, Bills. Get in the car and I’ll explain,” Steve sighed softly, gesturing with his hand out the window for him to get in the passenger seat. 

Even if it was only four minutes, Steve still felt guilty. He was the one who insisted on dropping and picking Billy up from the pool every day instead of spending the money to get his camaro fixed. It was under the guise of Steve wanting to be helpful and doting, and saving money, but they both knew how badly Billy’s hands shook when he reached for Steve’s car door, how his fingers clutched the seat if they weren’t wrapped around a cigarette, how he couldn’t be in a car in the dark and how quiet roads made him cry. 

The mindflayer had done its damage on Billy in more than one way. His physical scars may have healed, but the mental ones were more present than ever. The anxiety that racked him, even with the amount of medications he took for it, was intense. He suffered from nightmares, hated the dark, could barely handle the cold without panicking. 

The blue camaro that had once been his safety, his baby that was a reminder of his life in California, had been turned into a constant reminder of the monster that had seeped into his body and nearly killed him along with so many others. 

But the anxiety over being late didn’t stem from being possessed by the mindflayer. Steve didn’t know where it came from. 

“Billy.” Steve reached for his hand when Billy was finally in the car, not starting up the engine yet. “Sweetheart, look at me, please? I’m sorry.”

But Billy still didn’t look at him, his watery eyes trained on the ‘Pool Rules’ sign he could see out the window. His jaw was clenched so hard to keep a sob from slipping out that he started to get a headache. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I gave Dustin a ride home and his Mom was feeling chatty. Wanted to introduce me to their new cat, as if I didn’t already meet the little thing months ago—“

“Fuck you, Steve.” The words took a few moments to sink in, and when he didn’t immediately reply Billy snapped his head over to look at him. “Jesus, Harrington, are you fuckin’ stupid? Just fuckin’ drive! Jesus Christ!” 

The angry words didn’t match the frightened eyes and tears dripping down his cheeks, and Steve took a deep breath. 

“Okay, so you’re angry—“

“I’m not in the mood for your bullshit communication speech. If you even say that goddamn word, I’ll knock your teeth down your throat, I swear to God.”

The swearing, the threats, may as well have gone in one ear and out the other. Billy always said a lot of words, especially when he was angry, and nearly all of them were ones he didn’t mean. Steve was used to wading through them to get to the real issue by now. 

“You’re angry because I was late,” Steve spoke carefully, but not in a condescending way. “You need to tell me why you’re upset that I was late so I know how to help you, Bills. Sometimes being late is inevi—“

“Because one day you won’t come, okay? One day I’ll be waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and you won’t fuckin’ show.” 

The words were enough to trigger the sobs that had clearly been building in the four minutes he’d been waiting, and Steve’s heart nearly shattered. “Baby—“

“Save it, Harrington,” he croaked out, clearly trying to keep up his angry persona despite the sobs. “Let’s just get it over with. Just fuckin’ leave already.”

“Listen to me.” Steve reached for Billy’s face, holding his cheeks in his hands to force Billy to meet his eyes. “I’m not leaving you. Ever. I want you, Billy, only you, as long as you’ll have me. What do I have to do to convince you I’m here to stay? Buy you a ring? Tattoo your name on me somewhere? Because I’ll do it. I’ll do anything I have to do to keep you from feeling like this again.” 

Billy’s sobs turned to heavy sniffles in Steve’s arms, feeling calloused thumbs wiping tears from his cheeks. “You can just not be late, but I do like that tattoo idea. Get my name as a tramp stamp—“ 

“Shut up.” Steve pulled him in for a kiss, both to cut off the idea and relay as much love and emotion as he possibly could. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. I promise you. One day I’m even gonna marry you, you’ll see.” 

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #my drabbles

[jamminvroomvroom]

safe from heartbreak

pg x fem!reader 

read part 1 here!! 

yeah so here is part 2. it started off as fluff and then, by some kind of divine intervention, it became... the opposite. lol. bon appetite. any and all feedback is always welcome, thank you so much for all the love on part 1!!

this is based loosely on the song “safe from heartbreak” by wolf alice. it’s a bop just saying. warnings: 18+!! smut, angst :), a glimmer of hope, language, more questionable french (i’m so sorry i tried so hard lmao)  3.4k words

-

it had been months. 

months without his touch, without seeing his face on the pillow next to yours when you woke up, without feeling the pleasure only he could give you. you’d struggled quietly through the winter break, doing your best to forget about him, despite shamelessly watching his instagram story. then, the car launches came along and by some miracle, you’d managed to avoid alpha tauri at all costs. the barcelona shakedown was another breeze, hiding out in your office at the track for most of it. you couldn’t face him, and luckily your job didn’t depend on it.

your luck ran out in bahrain. testing had been a disaster for many of the teams, and your job became incredibly stressful incredibly quickly. you had been in the midst of trying to solve a lot of behind the scenes problems when you saw him for the first time. you were a disheveled, overworked mess and he was angry at the piece of metal that alpha tauri expected him to somehow compete in. these used to be the perfect conditions for you to fall into his bed; you both needed some kind of relief. instead, you just stared at each other from opposite ends of the pit lane, looking through one another until a mechanic called for his attention and a whinging team principal called for yours. 

the weekend went on just like that. somehow, you were always in his eye line and he was in yours. you never went within twenty feet of each other, no, that would have been far too difficult for your heart, but you were close enough. close enough to see the way his eyebrows furrowed, as if he was trying to work you out, to see how exhausted he looked as he followed you with his eyes. from the way he was looking at you, a cautious longing, you knew that he was still stuck in that hotel room you’d left him in. 

you were still there too. 

-

the season progressed. 

bahrain, to jeddah, to melbourne, to imola. you were grateful to be distracted from those blue eyes, thrown into your work. there was never a dull moment in formula 1. you were busy, constantly on the move, and that didn’t leave you with any time to think about a certain driver. you had almost no time to wonder where all of his one night stands were. you hadn’t seen him with a single woman all season. maybe they just waited in his hotel room now. maybe he was focusing on the start of the season. maybe he wanted you. maybe he didn’t. all you knew was that he was always alone in the paddock these days, looking solemn, draped in the latest neutrals from the alpha tauri collection. 

you watched the rain fall from the dark italian sky, safe from the cold in the confinement of your office. thoughts of him were banished in this room. you were supposed to be finishing off your paperwork, but all you could think about was the shambolic qualifying that had taken place earlier that afternoon. your eyes were focused on the track, even in the darkness you could see the little puddles of water forming, making things uncertain, complicating things. that’s a problem for tomorrow, you decided. brushing your problems under the rug to deal with another day had become your specialty. however, it seemed that your luck had run out again. there was a problem quite literally knocking on your door that you wouldn’t be able to ignore. 

you were frozen in place, watching him watch you through the glass panel in your office door. pierre. months of nothing had led to this, but you didn’t know what this was. why was he here? what did he want? what could he possibly have to say to you? there was only one way to find out. your feet carried you the short distance across the floor to the door. you twisted the handle, slowly, eyes locked on his as you did. you stepped back. he stepped forwards. he was in your office now, sharing the suffocating space with you. the door shut, slowly returning to its hinges. you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. you had no idea what to do, or say, or feel. so, you just stared at him, lips parted, waiting for him. 

always waiting for him.

he opened his mouth to speak. and then he closed it. he opened it again, only to close it once more. it seemed you were both in the same boat, at a loss for words. you noticed his hair was wet, as was his jacket. the rain in imola was unforgiving at the best of times, but especially so for sending him to you absolutely drenched. 

he looked good. 

no, no, no, shut the fuck up. 

“what are you doing here? it’s getting late.” you broke the unsettling silence, finally. 

“i could ask you the same thing, chér-“ he cut himself off, face falling flat as he caught himself. you exhaled shakily. 

chérie. you’d missed that, almost as much as you’d missed him. 

“you shouldn’t be here, pierre.” you mumbled, stomach dropping as your mouth formed his name for the first time in months. you sounded as pained as you felt. 

“you shouldn’t have left that bed.” 

silence. you scoffed. 

“oh, i’m sorry. was i supposed to let you leave it first?” your words were drenched in disbelief. 

“it was never my intention to leave you.” 

“that’s funny, pierre. really fucking funny.”

he took a step towards you. you were too angry to move, feet stuck to the floor. 

“nothing about this is funny.” 

you glared at him. as if you didn’t know that.

“does it look like i’m laughing? god, why did you even come here?” 

“do you know how many times i’ve had to stop myself from coming to you? every time i see you in the paddock, fuck, i have to force myself away from you.” his accent was thickening, his frustration increasingly evident. 

“maybe you should try harder.” cheap shot. 

“is that what you want?”

no!

“i don’t know what i want anymore.”

“well, what did you want?” 

it was a good question. you furrowed your eyebrows. you didn’t know how to respond to him. you didn’t have an answer for him, even if he’d asked you back when you were falling into his bed every weekend you wouldn’t have known. you’d spent so long repressing your feelings that you didn’t even know what they were anymore.  he took another step towards you, making you dizzy. you wanted to touch him and you wanted him to touch you and you wanted him to press you against the wall and remind you that you were still his. 

were you ever his?

he was standing over you now. he raised his hand, grazing your arm softly and leaving goosebumps in his wake. you felt his hand grasp yours, pulling you further into him. you made no move to pull away from him, relaxing into him. you couldn’t keep up with his hands, one now resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek, to gently tilt your head back. 

his lips brushed over yours. once, twice, three times. it was tentative, soft, the both of you testing the waters, before you gave yourself over to him completely, and he did the same to you. the last kiss you shared in your office last year had absolutely nothing on this one. it was slow, getting deeper and deeper as your body moulded with his.

his hand that was on your waist gently worked over the fabric of your shirt, leaving your stomach in knots. his fingers travelled under the material until they rested against your bare skin. his hands were cold from the miserable weather but you didn’t care; he could touch you anywhere he wanted with them. he made no move to take it further, just pulling you closer. one of your hands was in his hair, threading through the strands as you got lost. 

you stayed like that for a while. he kissed you and you kissed him, moving together in the middle of your office. eventually you had to part ways. his hand remained gently placed on your face, stroking your jaw. your eyes stayed shut, too scared to face him. you’d denied yourself of him, purely to shield yourself from any more heartache, and yet here you were, once again. it didn’t matter how much time had passed, you’d ended up back in his arms, just like the first time you’d tried to pretend you could go without him. you weren’t prepared to face reality just yet, almost wishing that you’d open your eyes and wake up from a dream. 

except it wasn’t a dream. shades of the ocean swirled in his eyes as they met yours and you never wanted to see another pair again. no, you’d be content, grateful even, to just stare aimlessly into his forever and ever. it was time to face facts. you were well and truly fucked. you couldn’t be. 

“i,” you were breathless, “i wanted you.” you whispered, almost ashamed of yourself for wanting someone that you’d shared with countless others. 

“chérie,” pierre mumbled, pressing another kiss to your lips, “il n'y a que toi.”

you must have looked confused, desperately trying to remember any french  you’d learnt at school. he laughed softly, watching your face contort as you’d tried to work out what he’d said. 

“mon amour, there is only you.”

you kissed him again, suddenly desperate for more. more that you weren’t even sure he could give you outside of this moment, no matter what his sweet words told you. so you decided to take what you knew you could get. your kisses travelled to his neck, trying not to mark him by leaving delicate presses to his skin that made his eyes flutter shut. he wasn’t yours to claim. his hands dipped down your body until they were grabbing at the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up. your arms were thrown around his neck as he placed you onto your desk. you reached back, blindly swiping papers and pens onto the floor, hearing the clutter hit the carpet. 

“is this okay?” he pulled away from your lips, thumb grazing your cheek as he asked for your consent. you nodded rapidly, guiding his face back to yours. you knew you had to take all of him in, trying to memorise the feel of his lips, as his fingers rapidly worked the buttons of your shirt. he worked down your neck, and across your collarbone, nipping your soft skin with his teeth. 

he wanted you to wake up tomorrow with him on your mind. almost as if he knew too that this had to be that last ti- 

you were broken out of your thoughts by his hand trailing under your skirt, grazing your thigh. two fingers ran over your clothed slit, rubbing at your clit through your panties. you moaned, bucking your hips into his hand, his tongue working across your collarbone making you shiver. he pulled his hand off of you, grabbing at the waistband of your skirt. you lifted your hips so that pierre could pull it off of you, taking your panties with it. you pushed your shirt off of your shoulders, loving the way his eyes widened as he took you in. 

white lace. a matching set. his favourite. 

it was almost as if you knew what would happen. 

your eyes almost rolled back in your head when he dropped to his knees in front of your desk. he slotted himself between your legs, spreading you open for him. you leaned back on your arms so that you could watch him, and he leaned in, closer and closer to where you were dripping for him. 

“eyes on me, chérie.” he winked, diving in. 

he lapped at your pussy, eating you out like a man starved. he showed no apprehension, swirling his tongue just the way he knew you liked it. his eyes never left yours, driving you absolutely wild and you resisted the dire need to clamp your eyes shut and throw your head back. if you did that, you wouldn’t be looking at him. 

you had to take him in this time, so that you could remember every little detail when it was over. 

pierre didn’t let up. not once. he sucked your clit into his mouth, running his tongue up and down your slit like the sun wouldn’t rise again. he kept you pinned to your desk, fingertips digging into your soft flesh to stop the wild bucking of your hips. you couldn’t help it, he was always so good to you. 

and then your reached your high and you were flushed, body glistening under the dull lighting of your office, hands threading unforgivingly through his hair, tugging at the strands relentlessly. you chanted his name over and over, praying that the building was definitely empty at this late hour. 

when you thought he was done, he only kept going, fingers added to the mix this time. he slipped one inside of you, thrusting it lazily a few times, mouth still wrapped around your clit. you thought you would pass out. he added a second finger, curling it deliciously, stroking that spot inside of you perfectly. the angle of his fingers brushing against your walls finally had you crying out his name as your eyes screwed shut. you were about ready to collapse against the desk as he grazed his teeth against your overstimulated bud. you could feel his smirk against your pussy, branding you as his, just as your vision went white and you shook in euphoria for the second time that evening. 

your body went limp against the the wood of the desk, eyes fluttering shut as your caught your breath. a low hum from in front of you caught your attention and you half opened your eyes to catch him licking his fingers clean. you shuddered. he walked around the desk, seating himself in your big, padded chair. he’d ridded himself of his clothes on the way around, sitting there in nothing but his underwear and that necklace that always stole the show. 

“come here, mon ange.” he patted his thigh teasingly and you had flashbacks to the last time he’d wanted you perched on his lap. 

somehow you peeled yourself off of the desk, swinging a knee on either side of his hips. the only thing you had left covering you was your bra, pierre’s hands trailing up your waist to the band of the lingerie. he snapped the clasp between his fingers, impressively undoing it and throwing away. too impressively. too practiced. you shoved those intruding thoughts away. you needed to enjoy this, no matter how selfish it made you. 

you reached down to move his boxers out of the way, freeing his cock. he was already hard, leaking, ready for you, so you moved to line yourself up with him. just as your were about to sink down on him, he grabbed at your hips, holding you in place above him. just out of reach.

“tell me how much you want me, mon chérie.”

“pierre, please.” you whined. 

“please, what?” he teased, trying to coax an answer from you. he moved one of his hands to run his tip through your folds, keeping you waiting. you were practically panting. 

“fuck me, please, just fuck me. need you so bad.” you gasped out, trying to roll your hips in search of any friction. 

“just like that.” he groaned as he guided you down on him until he bottomed out. he held you in place for a second, letting you adjust to him. you threw your arms around his neck and he brought his lips to yours, kissing you as you began to roll your hips. 

“fuck, pierre, more.” you moaned, rocking your hips against his, burying him deep inside of you. he began to thrust his hips to meet your movements, hitting that spot inside of you that made you tug on the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck. you knew you wouldn’t last long, you were far too sensitive after your first two orgasms, but you wanted to prolong this. you wanted to see him like this, feel him against your for as long as you possibly could. but you knew that he wouldn’t last either. this would never last. 

you kissed him one last time, muffling your cries of his name and the whisperings of french sweet nothings that you simply couldn’t handle. it hit you both at the same time, helping each other down from your highs, bodies moulding together in a sweaty, languid heap. 

the moment was over. it was over. 

you stood from where you’d been straddling him, thighs burning as you collected your clothes from the floor. you tried not to think too hard about the way his eyes scanned your body as you redressed it with his favourite white lace. he stood up too, redressing himself in what he thought was a comfortable silence. you were anything but comfortable. 

as you were buttoning the last few buttons of your blouse, he took a step closer to you. this time, you weren’t frozen in your place. you scurried backwards, keeping space between you. empty space that was somehow full of so many unsaid words. you averted eye contact, clearing your throat, desperately trying to swallow the lump in your throat that was jamming the words you needed to say. 

“this has to be it.” you whispered. 

“no.” his face crumbled. 

“it has to be.” 

“chérie-“ 

“no, pierre. don’t. you will always want more, need more. i can’t give you that.”

“you can. you do.” he sounded as desperate as he looked, forehead creased, hands reaching out for you in that big, empty space. 

“i wasn’t enough for you before. why would this time be any different?” you would not cry. you would try not to cry.

“everything about this is different.” his voice grew louder, stressed by the brick wall you’d suddenly put up. how could he even blame you for doing that? 

“it’s easy to say that now.” you spoke calmly, evenly, trying to banish your shaky breath. you had to face facts, you were still hurting.

“no. no. i’m in love with you.” you were pretty sure you heard your own heart shatter at his words. his beautiful, complicated words. 

“don’t do this to me, pierre. don’t do this to yourself. please.” 

“tell me you don’t love me. tell me and i’ll leave and i won’t come back. just tell me.” 

“i need you to go.” it left your lips as a whisper. 

“please.” you weren’t used to pierre being the one to beg. 

tell him you love him!

“go.” 

and he did go. the door slammed behind him. you watched him leave through that pane of glass in your door, storming off down the corridor and into the stairwell.

he always left. one way, or another. 

maybe you’d forced his hand, but you’d saved yourself the pain of him making the decision of his own accord. you wouldn’t have been able to handle that, when it eventually came around. maybe it would have worked this time, for a week or two, maybe a month. but then what? what would have happened when he’d decided that this new arrangement didn’t work for him? when he realised he was trapped and couldn’t spread someone else out across his bed? 

you’d decided your fate, not to be cruel to him, but to be kind to yourself. you hoped that he would be able to see that. 

one day, maybe.

you couldn’t help but wonder why your kindness hurt so much. your heart was in agony, an excruciating ache settling throughout your entire body. what had you just done? 

you turned around, wiping away a pesky tear that had dared to fall, staring once more at the dark, soaked track, riddled with puddles, like the ones you’d probably spend the next god knows how long forming with your tears. he was gone and he wasn’t coming back. 

you’d made sure of that. there was no one else to blame. 

not sure what i believe in

but i'll be safe from heartbreak 

if i never 

fall in love

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppetangelika @wmaximoffz @starlightoctavia @japanesekel @stardustinggold @vinvantae @chaoticallypan @ashleyo1611 @ggaslyp1 @poofy-baby-unicorns @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @lees0015 @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @1missglum1 @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @shinydragondelusion @alexk2002 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @f-1-fan

(my taglist got fucked up so… here it is lmao :D if you wanna be added or removed, lemme know <3)

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly fic #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly oneshot #pierre gasly angst #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly fluff #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 angst #f1 fluff #f1 oneshot

[tweetsonurface]

Surprise..?

(Kai anderson x fem reader)

I would just like to let yall know I've never made anything like this so don't expect it to be great, lmao.

Warnings: kai anderson, kissing, suggestive things too.

Summary: You're at a party and meet kai. Things escalate quickly and you have a makeout session.

°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°☆°•☆•°

Suddenly you wake up to your phone buzzing. You check and see it's winter, your best friend. You check the time and see it's 3am..? Jesus what the hell did she want? You answer and put the phone to your ear, rubbing your eyes. "Yeah..?" You said sighing. You were pretty pissed off. "Come over like right now! I'll give you the address!!" She seemed very happy, and spoke really quickly. You tried to say something but she hung up. You get a text giving you the address just like she said she would. You were so confused on what the hell she wanted and stood up mumbling things to yourself. You decided to go.

You stumbled over to your dresser and pulled out a tank top with some shorts. You weren't really sure on what to wear, since you didn't even know where you were going. You put a white bra on as well as the tank top. The Jean shorts were a little small but it would work..? You looked in the body mirror you had on your door and looked down at the shorts. They almost hugged you a little to tight. Either way you looked cute and walked to the restroom to fix your hair. You brushed and brushed the obnoxious hair you had before it untangled. It was now you realized you looked like a monster almost. Your room was dark and gloomy so you hadn't seen your face in the body mirror but now, now you saw every feature in your bathroom. "Oh god.."

You spoke to yourself and started to wash your face. You definitely needed to put makeup on, and that exactly what you did. Now your face was smoother and had a nice glow. You didn't bother to put eyeshadow on, you felt way more aware now that you were awake. You slipped your old vans on and pulled up your socks. Grabbing your phone you opened the door to your room and snuck down the stairs hoping nobody would hear. Your parents were extremely strict and would totally kill you if you were caught. "Whatcha doin?" You groaned hearing your little sister. "Fuck off Amarie." You unlocked the door and opened it. "I'll scream, 20 bucks now." Amarie threatened standing at the top of the stairs. She wanted money to keep quiet, but knowing her she'd tell anyway. "No you little brat." You laughed a little before running out of the house. You didn't hear her scream but you knew she would..eventually.

Walking past many houses you grab your phone out of your pocket and look at the address. You repeat it in your head getting to the end of the block. Her neighborhood wasn't very close and you'd have to walk pretty far. She was awesome, one of the best friends you could've ever had but this was just weird. No one calls you at 3am asking for you to come to a random address. You knew it wasn't hers but it was on the same block. Only Danny fletcher lived on that block with her. He was a frat boy, an asshole you thought. All the girls liked him but you thought different. Soon you're standing infront of the house and can see lights beaming from all the windows. There's also a couple people outside with red solo cups.

It finally hit you. This was a party, at Danny's place. You weren't sure how winter even got in but you took it and snuck through the backyard gate. There was a pool and a mini bar along with a hot tub. You spotted winter and walked over to her a little surprised at how rich the guy was. "Winter? What the hell?" You tap her and wave your hands signaling who you were. "Oh shut up, you need to socialize anyways." She laughed and continued to talk with her girlfriend next to the house. She introduced you to her but you knew who her girl was. She wasn't exactly the nicest, and kind of a pain in the ass. "Hey." You smile at winters girlfriend and look over to the sliding glass door. There's people cramped up inside all in little groups it seemed. You had forgotten you were talking to winter, and she reminded you. "Heyyyy???" She tapped you and handed you her cup, as well as her girlfriends. "Fill those up for me would you?" You just nod and laugh a little. You stack the cups and open the door to the house. Instantly you're bombarded with loud ass music and a shit ton of people. You slither through the crowd of people and finally make it to the kitchen placing the 2 cups on the counter. You're pouring the beer before someone stands next to you seemingly doing the same thing.

"Fucking bitch..." the guy mumbles pouring beer into a cup for what seemed like a friend. Suddenly he realizes that you thought he was talking to you. He hadn't even noticed you at first but his blue hair he was hard to not notice, same with his hands. "Not you, sorry." He flashes a smile as you just stand there with your hands on the 2 cups. His dimples were so adorable, and he seemed so nice. His little laugh made your heart flutter before your wonderful moment was interrupted. "Y/n what the hell are you doing? We're waiting for you." Winter shouts noticing you're talking to her brother. As you were about to speak the man spoke for you. "Fuck offffff..." he laughed and leaned towards winter to piss her off, but in the process he leaned closer to you as well. His shoulder was almost touching yours and you felt your face get red. He was so beautiful, so perfect, you couldn't help but have a little crush on him. You didn't even care that he was being mean to winter, it didn't even register to you. You could only focus on his face.

"Y/n seriously!" She stares at her brother giving him a dirty look. She's only able to see your back before you turn almost hitting the guy. You smile at winter, you wanted to talk to the guy. Suddenly winter walks over and takes the drinks for herself. She whispers to you before leaving and returning to her place outside. "He's a asshole." You thought about her words and turned to the man again. He drank out of the cup before looking at you. "I'm not either, God." He hides his smile with his cup and looks at you. He's significantly taller and he knows you're blushing. "I'm kai by the way, winter's just mad you're having fun." He looks over to a couple of people and back at you placing a hand on the counter. You thought he was so hot, you couldn't mess this up. "Kai? You're her brother?" You acted as if you didn't know, but you had known for awhile. You knew who kai was but you hadn't known what he looked like, not until now. You tried to keep small talk to stay close to him, you were crushing so hard. "I am." He turns back to you and looks in your hands. You didn't have a drink you had nothing. He placed his cup down before grabbing a fresh one and pouring some vodka in it. Only a little. "You don't drink?" He asked handing you the cup. You were just so flustered you struggled to speak. You loved the fact he was interested in you, it made you feel weak in your stomach. "No, no I do it's just I don't want to get wasted in a sex house." You took the cup and shot it down your throat. It tasted disgusting, and it burned but you wanted to impress him a little. He laughed and chugged his beer.

"No ones gonna touch you, no one but me." He said smirking. He layed his hand on your shoulder and you couldn't help but blush more. Fireworks were going off in your mind and you had more butterflies in your stomach. "Really?" You flirted back even though it took a lot of courage to do so. His grip tightened as his head lowered a bit to make it not so obvious he was staring at your breasts. "Really." He scoffed still looking st your breasts. He loved your body shape, your face your everything. He wanted more of you, more now. He left his cup on the counter and looked up finally. You had known he was looking at your boobs but you didn't care, you loved it. He then moved his hand to yours before leaning in to kiss you. He left a sloppy kiss on your neck and pulled away smiling. He knew you liked it. "You're so pretty..." he said kissing your cheek. You froze and fought the urge to kiss him back. Suddenly he pulls you closer and you feel your heart racing. He then finally kisses you on the lips before placing a hand on your waist and one on your ass. You kissed him back and to your surprise he didn't stop. He didn't even let you take a breath. You wrapped an arm around his neck and moved closer to him.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Sorry about the cliff hanger. This isn't a recent fic so I never really finished it but I'll make another part 🤧

NOT PROOFREAD!!!!

#kai anderson x you #evan peters fanfic #peter maximoff x reader #evan peters #fanfic #kai anderson fanfiction #kai anderson x y/n #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson

[the-cult-of-russo]

Endorphins (Part 1)

Pairing: Reader/Billy Russo

Warnings: cursing, angst, pain, the usual dark shit. I don't wanna tag it too like specifically to keep the suspense alive lmao the usual Punisher type of bullshit. It’s nothing you haven’t read before if you’ve read my other angsty shit.

A/N: Soooo this was a request but it turned into multiple parts because I got carried away. And I don't wanna put the request on here like I usually do because of spoilers lmaooo Also, I’ll just be posting these one after the other ‘cause I just wanna get this out there.

But to answer the rest of your ask anon, I know, I was away awhile. Life hasn’t been kind to me and then I ended up knee-deep in another fandom lmao But I’m back babeeeyyyy!! ;)

Also, the name of this series is from a Don Broco song with the same name. If you don’t know who they are, check them out. They’re my fav band and I love them. 

Endorphins are running through my veins and it's pathetic

Endorphins are rushing out my brain and it's pathetic

Mighty morphing into a piece of shit, it's so pathetic

I'm so pathetic

I'm so pathetic

—--------------------

Your leg bobbed nervously, eyes darting around at the other people sitting around in the hallway. You were interviewing for a job at a company called Anvil. It was a secretary/PA position. You'd done this kind of work before but the company you'd been working for had to close down, so now you were broke and out of work. You knew Anvil was doing well. The company had gained a reputation for itself and working here would mean good pay and opportunities. But the company wasn't the only thing that had a reputation. You'd heard many things about the man sitting on the throne. A serial womanizer. Rumor was, his last PA was fired after he fucked her. And she wasn’t the first. But maybe that's all it was. A rumor. But still, as you looked at the other people here, you couldn't help but feel like a sack of potatoes. All the leggy pretty women that looked like they should be on a catwalk and not interviewing for a job like this. If he really was as shallow as you'd heard, you'd have no chance. You'd not had to be interviewed in so long, being at your last job for as long as you did, and the nerves were chipping at you. You were just considering bolting out of the door when your name was called by a blonde woman with a kind face. 

She'd introduced herself to all of the interviewees as Karen Page. She'd told you all that while she didn't technically work here, she helped out from time to time. Her partner was Frank, the head trainer and Billy Russo's best friend. You blinked at her for a long moment, eyes wide as your heart hammered in your chest. She gave you a warm and encouraging smile as you stood. Your legs felt like jello, ready to give out at a moment's notice. You hadn't expected to be so nervous here. But you were on the verge of losing your apartment and you needed this job. But you weren't like all the others here. Calm and composed, seemingly not fussed in the least about the interview. You stuck out like a sore thumb and you were sure that's why Karen decided to give your arm a reassuring squeeze when you stood next to her outside of Mr Russo's office.

"You've got this," she smiled warmly. You wondered if she felt bad for you. You knew you must have looked ridiculous with how nervous you were. You blew out a shaky breath with a nod.

"I've got this," you repeated, not too convincingly as your voice wobbled. After one more smile, Karen opened the door for you. You stepped in, almost flinching at the sound of the door shutting behind you. 

The office was large yet simple. A minimalist look to it. Only one painting hung on the wall. Some scenic oil painting that looked legit and like it cost a shit tonne of money. You swallowed thickly as your eyes landed on the man behind the desk. His suit looked like it was made just for him and his hair was perfectly styled. And now you had to impress him or you'd be living in a cardboard box on the streets.

"Mr Russo," you greeted meekly, a polite yet shy smile on your face.

"Ms Y/L/N, please take a seat," he said cordially, gesturing to the chair on the other side of his desk. You walked over, sitting down before your eyes flit around anxiously. There was no way in hell you'd be able to impress this man given your competition. Your heart thudded away dully in your chest. When your eyes landed back on him, he was already watching you. His eyes were dark, darker than you’d ever seen before. They felt like they saw right through you and sucked you in all at the same time. His lips quirked up slightly and you realized you'd just been sitting there looking at him like a deer in the headlights. You felt your cheeks burn.

"I'm sorry. I swear I'm not usually this… nervous. It's just been a long time since I've had to sit for an interview," you admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle. You figured if you couldn't win him over with looks, you might as well just be honest with him.

He smiled at you, glancing at the paper on his desk.

"I noticed. Your resume is quite impressive. A loyal employee. You worked at Johnson and Sons for…-" he trailed off as he glanced to the paper again.."-8 years. He must have thought you were a good employee to keep you on that long," he mused, his dark eyes going back to you. You felt your face heat up a little at the compliment as you looked down at your hands clasped in your lap.

"I guess so," You shrugged with a wry smile.

"Mr Johnson was a good man. Was a shame what happened to him," he murmured thoughtfully. A small frown creased your brow as you felt a pinch in your chest. Mr Johnson had worked his whole life to get his business to where it ended up. And then a month ago he had a heart attack in the middle of a meeting. You'd witnessed it. Now he was dead and instead of his sons carrying on the business as they were supposed to, they closed it down.

"He was a good man. He always looked after me," you replied sadly. He gave you a sympathetic look, His finger tapping on the desk a little.

"So… why do you think you'd be a good fit here at Anvil?" He asked you, eyes boring into you. You licked your lower lip, mouth suddenly feeling dry like all the moisture had evaporated.

"I'm a hard worker. I always go above and beyond what's expected of me. If you need me to do something, then I’ll do it. Whether it's staying here late to help you prep for a big meeting or just running down the street to get you a bagel and coffee,” you tried to sound confident but you weren’t sure if you succeeded or not. He nodded, leaning back in his chair a little like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

“I gotta be honest, when I saw the name on your resume, I already knew who you were before I read it,” he said, lips tugging into a wry smirk as you blinked at him.

“You did?” you asked, slightly confused. He chuckled, raking his teeth over his lower lip as he looked at you.

“I did a lot of business with Mr Johnson. He never shut up about you, how good his PA was. Made me pretty jealous about it. I don’t know if you remember, but we met two years ago, at the Charity ball for homeless people your company ran,” he murmured, a note of amusement in his voice. Your brows furrowed a little as you tried to remember the night. You’d planned all of it and Mr Johnson insisted you attend it to at least enjoy the fruits of your labors. He’d even bought you a swanky dress that was still sitting in your closet despite the fact you'd never use it again. You couldn't just chuck something away that you knew cost so much. You tried to quickly flip through the memories of the night. You’d met so many people then, so many business contacts. And then you remembered briefly being introduced to Mr Russo but you hadn't done more than say a polite hello with a smile. Mr Johnson liked to call you a workaholic. Even at the event you were working and making sure things were in order, taking notes when important people were around. 

“I completely forgot about that,” you muttered, feeling a little sheepish. You weren't quite sure how you could forget someone like Mr Russo. He shot you another amused grin as he shrugged lazily. 

“I’m not surprised. Mr Johnson said you’d work yourself to death. You were supposed to be enjoyin’ the party and instead you were workin’ your ass off,” he teased. You bit your lip with a smile, feeling a little more at ease with him the more he spoke. He was intimidating yet calming at the same time and it was strange.

“Yep, sounds about right,” you snorted. He moved to sit forward again, hands clasped on his desk in front of him. 

“Look… I’ll be real transparent with you, Y/N. Your resume is one of many I’ve had to go through, but as soon as I saw your name, I already knew who I was gonna pick. If you got Mr Johnson's stamp of approval then you already got mine. I know he didn’t keep anyone on his team that wasn’t capable of workin’ hard and keepin’ cool under pressure. I knew you’d be perfect for the job. I’d be stupid to hire anyone else out there over you,” he admitted, his face deadly serious as his dark gaze cut into you. You blinked dumbly at him for a moment. You weren’t really expecting this. You’d been sure you didn't have a chance. And you felt flattered that Mr Johnson had been so impressed with you that he’d spoken about you so much. 

“Really?” you asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words left your mouth. His serious face changed then as his lips quirked up at you.

“Really. If you want the job, it's yours,” he offered with a warm smile. All the nerves that had gripped you tightly since you’d walked in seemed to melt from you, your body sagging a little in relief after being held so tightly for so long.

“I really do want the job,” you nodded eagerly. His grin widened then, reaching a hand out for you to shake. You took it, shaking it with a smile.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N. I think you’ll love it here,” he grinned. 

—-

You pulled your coat tighter around yourself to stave off the bite of chilly wind as you walked briskly home. Your heels sounded like the only noise in the street, clicking on the pavement at your hurried steps. You’d been working with Anvil for exactly a week. It was Monday and you’d quickly gathered Monday was a busy day. There would always be tonnes of messages for you to sift through that had come through at the weekend. You didn’t mind it though. It was pretty much the same as it had been back at your other job. You’d met mostly everyone there and everyone seemed nice. Frank had been polite and sweet to you, which hadn't been expected with his grumpy face. You'd even gotten to know Karen a little better. She’d come in sometimes to see Frank and wind up speaking to you for a bit too. Mr Russo was a really good boss too. Not the hard ass like you thought he might be. He’d even shown you the ropes himself and made a point of showing you around and introducing you to people there. Overall, you were enjoying the job. But as you walked home, you were feeling an unsettling feeling and it wasn't the first time you'd felt it since you started working there. It started on your second day. You’d been walking home when you felt uneasy. That feeling you get when you know someone’s watching you. You knew you were being paranoid, you hadn't seen anyone when you’d glanced around. But the hairs on the back of your neck were prickling up and it made your stomach churn. You’d convinced yourself you were being silly. It was an overactive imagination or something. But it happened every night when you walked home from work. You’d never felt this way when working at your old job and you couldn't shake it. And so, as it happened once again, you hurried home feeling your chest constrict like you were on the verge of a panic. You’d never been an overly anxious person walking around, even at night. You knew what New York could be like but it didn't really bother you. So you weren’t quite sure just why you were feeling this way. You always felt like you were ready to get snatched into an alleyway or something. You hated it. You wished it wasn’t winter. It wouldn't be dark on your way home in the summer.

As you were almost at your apartment, you heard a crash from the other side of the street. Your head whipped around quickly, your heart stuttering for a moment. On the other side of the street, there was a figure all in black, a hood pulled over their head and obscuring their face. It looked like they’d knocked over a trash can. There was something really ominous feeling about the person, especially since he hadn't been there when you’d looked over your shoulder a few minutes before. You turned around quickly and ran the rest of the way, almost ripping the door to your apartment building off the hinges once you let yourself in. You stood in the hallway, chest heaving a little as you told yourself to get it together. You were being stupid. It wasn't like you were the only person allowed out at night. It was probably just some guy minding his own business. You walked back over to the door, peeping through the long window curiously. You felt your stomach drop when you saw the hooded figure across the road standing there unmoving. Looking right at your building. You backed away slowly, trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of your stomach as you rushed up the stairs. It was only once you were in your apartment you felt a little safe. When you chanced a glance out of your window, the figure was gone and you felt yourself unwind a little. It was weird and you didn't like it. You wondered if you should mention it to Mr Russo. He did own a security firm after all. Maybe he could give you some tips to keep yourself safe. You weren't quite sure why it had only just started but maybe Anvil came with some cons as well as pros. You weren't sure but you found it hard to go to sleep that night. 

—--

You stood outside of Mr Russo’s office anxiously, gnawing at your lower lip. It was lunchtime and you’d already given him his lunch. But you’d been on the fence about speaking to him about your nightly scares or not. Once the morning came, you weren't sure if you’d been imagining it or not. You felt a little bit silly going to him about it. But you’d be a liar if you said you weren't already dreading the walk home. It wasn't far which is why you never bothered with a cab. You were starting to wonder if maybe you should start. After heaving a large breath, you knocked on his door firmly. Once he told you to come in, you opened the door and hovered inside uncertainly.

“Mr Russo… could I speak to you a moment?” you asked tentatively. 

“I keep tellin’ you, call me Billy. Come and sit down,” he gestured to the seat, giving you a smile as he balled up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it into the trash can. His casual demeanor put you at ease instantly. He’d been telling you to call him Billy since your first day but for some reason your brain was having a hard time with it. To be fair to you, you’d never done it with Mr Johnson despite his insistence to call him by his first name. 

“Billy, sorry,” you murmured wryly as you moved to sit down. 

“What's worrying you?” he asked pointedly, raising a brow at you.

“How do you know I’m worried?” you countered, giving him an amused smirk. Despite being cordial and professional with him, he had a way of always putting you at ease and making you feel comfortable. It had been easy to talk to him in your short time here and he’d even joke with you sometimes. You’d admit it was refreshing working with someone closer to your own age. He gave you a look that you’d quickly learnt meant ‘cut the bullshit’ and you sighed. 

“It’s… It’s gonna sound stupid. I think I’m just being paranoid or something,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks burning a little at your words. You felt silly in front of him now. 

“Paranoid or not, somethin’s got you worried. You know you can talk to me. What happened?” he asked seriously. You chewed on your lower lip again, fiddling with your hands on the desk as your eyes landed on anything other than him. Suddenly his large and warm hand settled over yours, stilling their restless motions and your eyes snapped to his. That was another thing you weren’t quite used to. Mr Johnson never put his hands on you, no matter how gentle. Billy had done it a few times. Just little touches like a squeeze to the arm, his hand on your back for the briefest of moments. You didn't mind it though really. 

“I think… I think someone’s been following me home,” you admitted quietly. A deep frown graced his face then and you idly thought about how he hadn't removed his hand.

“And you’re sure?” he asked after a moment. He didn't sound happy at the notion and you were slightly touched he cared.

“I mean… I don’t know. It started my second day here. You know you can just… sense when someone’s watching you? And it's been every night when I go home. And then last night, there was a guy all in black. I wasn’t sure he was following me at first but once I got inside my building, he just… stood there watching me,” you swallowed thickly, getting a chill down your spine just remembering how weird it had been. Billy was quiet for a moment before he squeezed your hand and stood up. He walked over to a cupboard across his office, rooting around in there before he came back over to you with something in his hand. It was pepper spray. You took it gratefully, feeling at least like you had something to protect yourself with.

“Use it if you feel threatened. Even if some poor innocent bastard gets sprayed. If they're close enough to make you scared they deserve it anyway,” he mused as he sat back in his chair. 

“Thank you,” you breathed with a smile.

“Look, I know you don’t live too far but I think maybe walkin’ isn’t too safe out there at night,” he frowned thoughtfully. You looked from the pepper spray in your hands to him, tilting your head a little.

“I’m thinking of taking cabs from now on, just to be safe,” you admitted.

“Good. You ever taken self-defense classes?” he asked seriously. You felt small under his gaze and you knew your answer wouldn't please him given his line of work.

“No,” you gave him a sheepish smile as he rolled his eyes goodnaturedly at you.

“Frank’s been teachin’ Karen in the private training room in the back. Does it most days after work. You up for it?” he asked expectantly. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you smiled. You’d always wanted to learn but you’d always been so busy that it would slip your mind. But given how you were feeling lately, you knew it would make you feel even safer. He shot you a grin with a pleased nod.

“Alright, tomorrow after work. Bring something comfortable to change into,” he instructed. 

“Thank you, Mr- … uh Billy. I really appreciate all this,” you said softly, a grateful smile on your face as you stood. You figured you’d taken up enough of his time as it was. You knew just how busy he was. He stood too, walking you to the door.

“Anytime. You know you can come to me about anything. No matter how small you think it might be. What kinda boss would I be if I let somethin’ bad happen to my favorite PA?” he asked with a mischievous smile. You snorted, feeling your cheeks burn at his praise. You felt like a cat getting a head rub and you almost smacked yourself for your own reaction.

“I’ve only been here for a week,” you replied amused. He gave you a cheeky grin and shrugged.

“And you’re still my favorite PA,” he countered. You left his office feeling a little better about the whole thing. You’d take cabs and you now had pepper spray if you needed it. And soon, Frank would have you trained up so you’d be able to defend yourself. 

—---

You made your way to the training room in the back slowly. You were in a tank top and some leggings with some sneakers on. Your work clothes now in the bag you were holding. You’d changed in the bathroom. The night before, you’d taken a cab home. But as you were going inside of your apartment, you’d felt that feeling again. This time you couldn't see anyone, but you’d hurried inside anyway. You’d barely seen Billy that day. He’d been swamped with meetings but when you had briefly seen him as you gave him his lunch, he’d asked you if you were still up for training and of course you told him yes. You felt a little strange though in crashing the couples time training together, like you were intruding almost. But you knew Frank was head trainer here so he’d be good. You also hoped Billy had mentioned you’d be dropping in. But as you walked into the training room, it wasn't just the couple there. Billy was there too. For some reason, that thought hadn't even crossed your mind but it did make you feel a little better. Karen was standing off to one side as Billy and Frank wrestled with each other. It looked like they didn’t even notice you come in. You wandered over to Karen, plonking your bag down on the floor.

“Boys, am I right?” she asked with a wry smirk, making you snort as you watched them. They were scrambling on the floor looking like a pair of kids play fighting and it amused you. Billy ended up behind Frank, getting him in a chokehold.

“How’dya like that?” He asked gleefully, making Frank huff and throw his elbow back. It connected with Billy’s side and he let him go with a grunt.

“Afraid I’m gonna make you look bad in front of your girl, Bill?” Frank asked teasingly. It was at that moment that Billy’s eyes shot up and connected with yours. And the same moment Frank decided to pounce on him and tackle him to the floor, pinning him down. You tried to ignore the weird feeling in the pit of your stomach at Frank’s words. They were just talking shit to each other.

“You’re an asshole, Frankie,” Billy wheezed, looking disgruntled yet amused. Frank grinned, tapping him on the cheek before standing up and offering Billy his hand. He took it, letting Frank pull him up before they hugged it out in a manly way. You smirked to yourself. Karen made a beeline to Frank as Billy waltzed over to you, swiping a bottle of water from a bench near where you stood. 

“Having fun?” you asked knowingly. He’d told you before how he loved sparring with Frank. He wasn't afraid to really lay into him and give him a good challenge like his recruits were. 

“What d’you think?” he answered cheekily. He looked like he was glowing. A radiant smile on his face. That one that made his eyes crinkle. It made you smile at him. Your eyes drifted to Frank and Karen then. They were adorable together. Frank could seem mean on the outside, an intimidating aura about him. But with Karen, he was all soft and squishy and you loved it.

“You’re gonna be with me. You ready?” Billy asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“I hope so,” you murmured wryly, making him shoot you a smirk.

The training went really well. Frank and Karen were doing their own training as Billy focused on you. You’d felt self-conscious at first, never having done anything like this before. But Billy was a really good teacher and would praise you every time you did something good. He never made you feel stupid for getting things mixed up or wrong. He’d gently correct you and make sure to compliment your technique on something. You appreciated it. He’d taught you how to disarm someone and various self-defense moves. And then he had you spar with him a little bit to practice the moves out on a moving target. After almost two hours, you were tired. He went to grab you and you stumbled backwards, grabbing his wrist as you started to fall, bringing him with you. You weren't sure just how his reflexes were so fast because you didn't hit the floor. You landed on Billy instead who had somehow maneuvered you both to swap places. You were sprawled on top of him and blinked at him in shock for a moment. 

“You two wanna get a room?” Frank called over mischievously, making Karen giggle a little. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you scrambled off Billy, waiting for him to look disgusted by the comment. Instead, he tilted his head to look at Frank from where he was lying with an amused smirk before giving him the finger. He had the grace of a cat as he hopped to his feet and he held his hand out to you to help you up. You gave him a sheepish smile before taking it and letting him pull you to your feet.

“I think I’m wiped out,” you murmured with a yawn. He grinned at you as you both walked over to your bottles of water. 

“You did good today. Pushed yourself hard. We do this a couple of times a week, you won’t have anything to worry about,” he said softly. You shot him a grateful smile before taking a long pull of your drink.

“Want me to drive you home?” he asked, wiping his forehead with his t-shirt. You tried not to look at his abs. He looked good like this in basketball shorts and a tee. You’d never seen him look anything other than pristine. 

“You don't have to,” you shook your head. It would be even later now with staying behind for training and you didn't want to walk home. But even though cabs were a safer option, you couldn't help but worry about the cab driver too. It wouldn't take much to lock the doors and drive off somewhere and murder you. Why did working here make you so paranoid?

“I know I don’t. I want to,” he countered, giving you a look that was a mix of amusement and determination. 

“Only if you don’t mind,” you shrugged. He playfully rolled his eyes at your unwillingness to just say yes.

“I don’t,” he said firmly, signaling the end of it. You slipped your jacket on before you and Billy said your goodbyes to Frank and Karen and then you were in his car on your way home. His very fancy car.

“I bet this car cost the same as a year's worth of my rent,” you snorted, glancing at him as he drove. You really didn't live far so you knew it would be a short drive. He smirked to himself for a moment before his face softened into a more earnest look.

“It’s alright, I guess,” he murmured. You blinked at him for a moment and he didn't take his eyes off the road.

“You don't like it?” you questioned. He had the money to buy something else if he wanted. You weren't sure why he was still driving it if he didn't like it.

“I do, it’s just… I used to think I wanted money more than anything. Money is power, right?” he asked, glancing at you briefly before back at the road. “But the past few years… I’ve been thinkin’ about how it ain’t everything. There’s more to life than money. Than power. It’s not what makes you happy,” he mused softly. You weren't really sure what to say to that if you were honest.

“Didn’t realize you were so philosophical,” you grinned teasingly, making him snort and shoot you a look. 

“Maybe I’m just finally growin’ up,” he shrugged. With that, he pulled to a stop outside of your apartment. 

“Thank you. For the training and the ride… just everything,” you murmured, glancing to him. He looked at you properly then with a soft smile.

“You don’t gotta thank me,” he shook his head.

“Well I did, so deal with it,” you smirked. He let out a surprised laugh at you and it made you smile to yourself. You preferred the carefree happy Billy to the overworked stressed one. He watched you for a long moment and it made you feel all funny as you just blinked at him.

“I’m really glad you took that job,” he admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. You bit your lower lip with a shy smile as you nodded.

“I’m glad too,” you replied. You felt a little weird now. You knew you needed to get out of the car and go home, but this was such a strangely soft moment between the pair of you and you felt weird breaking it. But then you reminded yourself that he was your boss and that you were reading far too much into everything. It was easy getting sucked in by him and his charm but all he saw was his PA that maybe he was becoming friends with. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said with a smile, opening the car door.

“See you tomorrow,” he replied quietly, watching as you got out. As you went inside, you gave yourself a good telling-off. You were acting like a schoolgirl with a crush and it needed to stop before it got you fired. Whether that was from Billy finding out and being grossed out or by ending up in bed with him. Because you knew his track record and how that always went. 

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine

[dyedfrog]

the ULTIMATE OMORI fanfic recs because one of my favs just ended and it deserves more recognition!!

Okay lets start this off with the one in question (also not in any particular order)

These Days Without You by Smitty1899. absolutely beautiful, please read it this fanfic needs more of a community around it

By Your Side Once More, or, How Sunny Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Occult by Keltikknight. the suzuki siblings and their immaculate sense of humour. thats all i have to say

A New Dawn In Sunless Skies by letos. i wish this one would update again its got such a cool premise.

Sinking and Heroism by TenPes. linking them together because they're not part of a series.

The Faraway Event by kinemortomoli. me putting this here is actually a cry for help. i dont think this fanfic is dead but i cant suffer alone

Tired by Sunburner. this is pretty short and sweet (more like sad, depending on your ending preference)

DEADSPACE by Es_Novels. this one is so eerie as many zombie fanfics are, but i think the imagery makes this one take the cake

Car Trouble by Smitty1899. oh my god

Birthday Picnic by ToxicPineapple. poor kel. he saw mari like a big sister

stuck on one day for the rest of my life by lowbatteryhealth. we as a fandom need more hero angst

Reciting Wrongly by JonRightBackAtcha. not gonna say anything, just read it

Other Half of The Whole by JonRightBackAtcha. did not realise this and 11 were written by the same person. huh.

Fates of Damnation by Anonymous. oh my got two electric boogaloo

heat haze by crowcinthus. as someone who knows nothing about kagerou project wow

The Healing Properties of Reading a Book Out Loud to Your Loved Ones, and Other Domestic Bullshit by Prince_Enby. this ones good even if it hasnt updated in a while

In Which Sunny Is Bad At Naming Things by Prince_Enby. let me introduce you to the chatfic ever

I'll Cherish You Forever by phoeberrie. tiny bit hesitant to recommend this one bc of the themes but there is another fanfic later on this list with similar themes that is basically on every omori rec list ever so just a warning for stalking, obsession and gore. also, heed the tags. its good but not everyone will be comfortable with it.

Sorry as Can Be, For Whatever That Means by JonRightBackAtcha. quite a few fanfics by this author on here. but what can i say, they're great.

sinking. by marlkarx1. this is really good, also pretty dark. heed the tags.

Despite everything by Aisenic_Warrior. another legendary fic with no updates for over a year.

Sometimes a Knife Fight at 3am Can Mend Any Friendship by Shrimp_fry_rice. i dont believe it. you're telling me a shrimp frying rice wrote this fic?

Overwatered Garden by otomerson. rip flower boy lmao (im crying)

Picnic with Mari AU by Gornkleschnitzer. just gonna recommend the whole au

One More Time by GalileoGalilei. think of a 'watching the show' fanfic but its omori post-bad ending. now that i think about it, a version of this fic but they're watching an unserious playthrough on youtube would be kind of funny.

Sometimes Goodbye is a Second Chance by Smitty1899. whatever you're expecting to happen, you're wrong.

Amusia by JonRightBackAtcha. the legend. i wonder how many times this author has appeared on this list.

Kel kicks Sunny's door down by otomerson. attempted hikkikomori route

The Everyday Shenanigans of Something by Practicallyunethical. obsessed with the references in here.

Reality Check, Please by Paramocks. this fanfic has the kind of humour that could kill a christian grandmother.

Endless Dreaming by otomerson. this fanfiction is so beautiful it can make a grown man cry and thats okay (i dont know the quote dont kill me) please read it

Their Time by ShardOfHope. man this fanfic HURTS. you better read it.

The House That Breathes by Shifting_Walls. THIS IS SO GOOD

Broken Space by SpoonusBoius. yes, this fanfic is dark, but i feel people greatly exaggerate it. its not darker than pursuit, don't worry.

The Sun in Another Solar System by TellThemNaegi. if you look through this entire list while only reading one fanfic from here, please let it be this one. i have been totally fixated on this one and it deserves a mini-community of its own just like some other aus.

You're back, Mari by Anonymous. i hope you all expected this one. this is the mentioned one on no.17. im not sure how many trigger warnings i need considering this entire fic is so infamous i'd be shocked if someone didn't know. i don't want to risk spoiling it so just look at the tags. i was debating putting the sequel on here but decided against it. after all, the absolutely visceral reaction the pursuit au can garner from the fandom after just being mentioned probably has enough potential for a case study.

And there it is. the ultimate omori fanfic rec list consisting of 35 fanfic recs (I was originally gonna put way more on here but i got lazy near the end and put only my all time favourites)

#omori #omori fanfic #omori au #fanfiction #fanfic recs

[zikadraws]

it takes four doug has "been through the system of 'several lives'"? do you mean he's been killed by the monsters and respawned a few times, and if not what did you mean? im always a fan of aus that incorporate the respawn mechanics that the games theyre for brush over :3c🍿

Oh man isn't that one hell of a question, that I was totally prepared for ! And since you asked it you're now legally required to sit through my painfully long take on this. Enjoy.

(Fair warning : Long post ahead. And you even get drawings. Click For Quality bcz phone pictures.)

Well it's actually relating to a theory/headcanon of mine that I came up to try for the respawn system to make sense in-game, because I too love when the mechanisms in-game are a thing that's accounted for and explained in the "world building*. And the respawn system in Dark Deception always left me perplex. Allow me to put the problem :

So we, as the player get a certain amount of Lives, represented by skulls, that we can use to try again from the last loading point before a Game Over (in which case I think you have to do the level since the very start.) We get more Lives the more we progress through. So far so good. It could not be accounted for and I'll be content enough with that, HOWEVER. When you die while still having 'Lives', Bierce pulls out a snarky comment like "Oh you got killed by a freaking statue, that's bloody hilarious". But, when you die after running out of Lives and get a Game Over, she will say "You died... HAHAHAHAHAHA" (like the sadistic asshole she is), and that, invariably and only in case of Game Over.

(And, very importantly : when you lose a Life, you don't lose your progress, you don't lose any Shard (depending on the difficulty ofc lmao.) So that means there is no time rewind for Lost Lives : it's a thing that's happening and counts as part of the trial. (The Game Overs, however, are on us.)

Which implies that she's somehow aware that the Game Over means Actually Dead, and that the other times was a "Oh dear, you got yourself fucked up again didn't you." and that we could try again. So this implies that the "several lives" system is something that just occurs with Mortals, and not only Doug since it doesn't phase her.

Now it's kinda infuriating because other than the Joy Joy Gang with the Game Over no one else really says anything about this, so. How would that system, that's implied to be acknowledged, be explained in the Dark Dimension, and why is it not talked about ?

Well I think I developed a plausible enough theory, and I believe the reason, for that and a few other mechanics, could be the Soul Shards. Allow me to explain.

-----

So we all know the Soul Shards right. Each of them holding power, and supposed to have once been an unfortunate Mortal that got ripped to bits in Malak's Realm. So far so good, however : "Soul Shard" implies that what we collect is only a fraction of the entirety of the victim's soul, which means the rest must be trapped in Malak's Realm. Enslaved, consumed or just wandering, you'd expect these poor sinners (those who did not cave or qualify into becoming Monsters) to want to do the best they can to help the next victim, with whatever power they hold as captive spirits.

So I believe they are the ones to give the Mortals more than one chance. How they do it is unclear, they might 'zap out' the corpse and reanimate it from a certain point of power, because this action takes a lot of their energy, and it needs for them to focus their collective power in certain emplacements -the Respawn Points for us. However, as it takes a lot out of them, they can only revive so many times. That's also why we gain more Lives through the levels : the more Shards we collect, the more people we get on our side to focus their energy to revive us.

As you can see I've given them a humanoid form because I felt they needed one. Anyways, they follow us around. (A lot because we're literally collecting them, I suspect.) When we die, the death screen advice is spoken by them, as pictured here.

I like to think they're also the reason why there is writing on the walls in certain locations (such as the Hotel, the Golden Manor and the Sewers), giving advice and warnings. I don't think it's blood, so it's probably something easier for them to produce. Those must be erased whenever they're spotted.

Anyways, they do more than that.

You see the chorus that you can hear in the background music ? Well I don't know if you ever noticed, but it appear to be singing warnings and injonctions, such as "Keep on moving" in "Maternal Instinct" or "Run for your life" in the teased ost "Silent Shopper" (I think). Here's my illustrated theory on that : Malak forces them to be the ominous background ambiance, so they choose to subtly try to screw him over and encourage us whilst doing so. (There is canonically whispering from the victims according to E, so I think this chorus might be part of this aspect of the lore.)

There are more than one type of Soul Shard, by the way. Depending on their level of spite, their energy, their personality and their desire to get back to their tormentors, they can sometimes appear as Stun Balls or Spotting Shards. Those are rare though, as most powerful souls are harvested ASAP. 

(They might also be the reason you don’t suffer from exhaustion from running, idk.)

Also, once they've been collected their spirits stick with us even through the levels they're not from and even in the Ballroom, which allows for scenes like this one.

(Sorry about the colors lol still figuring out the scanner)

Anyways, that was basically the long and the short of it, though assuming the spirits follow Doug throughout the entire thing, I’ve came up with a few bonuses. Plus some cozy Tammy thing for your comfort.

So yeah long story short this pretty much explains how come Doug has gone through more than one life. He’s more or less aware of that fact, but he’s a lot in denial of the whole process and pretend the deaths never happened in the first place and that the voices he hears are indeed the other victims crying out to him and nothing else. Each death makes him more cautious, more reactive, more alert, and also more impatient. He takes the advice and what help there is to take, however he tries not to talk to them. Too much to take in and he kinda has to focus on his own problems. It helps that Bierce seems to royally ignore them. They do *not* like Bierce, by the way.

In total, Doug has died about four times so far. He IS kind of lucky, in the end of the day. That or he might actually be talented, who knows.

-----

Okay, so that was my explanation ! Hope you had the patience to read through all of it, and that it makes sense to you. Also enjoy the Soul Shard content, I’ve done these a while ago.

Alright, thanks for your ask. You’re welcome and have a great night ✨🤗💖

#answered ask #dark deception #dark deception theory #dark deception headcanons #doug houser #dark deception doug #soul shards #tammy houser #joy joy gang #dark deception malak #dark deception bierce #cw blood #blood cw #cw bruises #scanner #long post

[jaynovz]

for the fanfic ask game: what work of yours do you feel is the most underappreciated/do you wish got more attention? could we have a small sample of a bit you like?

Okay I thought about this for a long time, cuz I WANTED to say the FlintMadi series or maybe hanahaki or petplay ot4. honorable mentions lol.

But I think the True answer is the John Silver backstory aka a stained glass variation of the truth.

I knew when writing it that like maybe a handful of ppl were EVER gonna engage with this for multiple stacking reasons: the dark subject matter, the underage archive warning, the huge amount of OCs, the Silver/OMC. Lotta death knells for readership lol

but guys I'm SO fucking proud of it and I've read basically every other Silver backstory and mine sort of stands alone in being the most extensive and focused example, by which I mean it doesn't venture into canon events, it tells its own story and is a true prequel (perhaps another death knell lmao) but yeah I'm just really proudddddddddddddd of that okay, I did SO MUCH historical research and historical WRITING isn't my strong suit but I killed it

oh also just to like, clarify, I subscribe to the "all and none" Silver backstory mindset. Meaning that, anything we can dream up could be correct and also there's no answer, these facts exist in my mind simultaneously. What they did in the show, leaving it up to the viewer, leaving it implicit? Yeah that was some fucking MASTERCRAFT and I don't mean to say that one *needs* a Silver backstory per se.

So yeah me writing it wasn't some be-all-end-all statement, but it Was an intensive character study exercise for why I thought he might turn out the way he did.

Anyway, I do not expect this answer to get literally anyone who hasn't already read it to check it out but there it is! thank you for asking <3

and yes here's your excerpt--

The voice John knew well raged inside--venomous, accusing.

Weak. He had to rescue you because you are weak. And now he’s dead. Just like everyone else.

Belatedly, John realized Solomon had been his friend. He had cared about John beyond his usefulness or their alliance. For as skilled as he was at reading people, sussing out their wants, their needs, their tells like the hidden flesh in a mollusc… John had utterly misread Solomon. In the moment, it had seemed so clear-cut, but in retrospect...

He remembered months spent joking warmly, sharing the toil, taking meals together, playing cards, privately mocking the worst of the crew, and telling lie after extravagant lie to one-up each other. They’d been set apart from the other boys, both too clever by half, opportunists who understood each other almost too well. Solomon was always teaching John--how to scale the rigging, the nautical knots, the best hiding places on a ship. He remembered the easy affection the older boy had expressed and the wedge it had driven between them, that John had put there. The recollection pained him and he slapped the side of the ship in anger. As usual, John was too late to recognize and appreciate anything good.

No. A rational voice pushed back. Solomon was a fool.

A mistake. It was a mistake to care about him, it was a mistake to care about anyone but yourself. Solomon had cared about John and what had been his reward? To die, to be forgotten, to be filled up with water and subsumed into the abyss.

In the end, boys like John, like Solomon, mattered to no one. Not to the crew of this ship, nor to the ferocious, unknowable sea, nor to the machinations and fates of the larger world. Boys like them had to make their own safety--carve a spot for themselves by whatever means necessary, be it force or duplicity. He'd learned, many times over, that caring too much for the well-being of other people was wholly incompatible with this goal.

I won't make their mistakes.

The next day it was business as usual for the crew of the Bridgewater; the storm had calmed and they weighed anchor. The drunken man who'd attacked John went unpunished. Indeed the entire event went unremarked upon, as none of the other crew asked after the missing cabin boy.

John had a surreal sense of deja vu; again, it was as if it hadn’t happened at all.

And isn’t that easier? To let it fade into irrelevance?

The other boys eyed the empty spot next to John, but said nothing. They were meek shadows, poor beaten things, colorless compared to all that had been his friend. Numbly, he completed his daily chores, all too aware of the heaviness of the workload. That which used to be split, yoked over two sets of shoulders to lessen the burden, was now his responsibility alone.

Tom. Scrap. Ollie. Lizzie. Mary.

Solomon.

Despite his best efforts, it was yet another name he would try and fail to forget.

#thoughts #the silver backstory #ask game #etoilesombre #ffwf #fanfic writer friday #yes im aware it's no longer friday i got kinda rip roaring blitzed and watched media and got DISTRACTED okay #my writing #john silver #black sails

[slowdiived]

Omg do you remember that trend where people would just walk in on their partner and drop the towel? What would kurt do if he was streaming and you did that lmao

I AM SO SORRY BUT I TURNED THIS INTO ANGST BECAUSE YOU GAVE ME INSPIRATION FOR AN ONGOING PLOTLINE. (i will however make a happier alternative if you like)

cheers! (kurt kunkle x fem reader)

warning for angst! this is integral to my series and soon i’ll make a masters list for you guys so you can have them all in order. thank you all so much for the requests! they are so fun to write and i want to make sure i am letting my readers have a say in the story (even though i am the puppet master fr)

you had gotten out of the shower and started blow drying your hair. you were getting ready for a day of vlogging and messing around. you wanted to joke around with kurt and your best solution was to leave him completely speechless when you come into the room with just a towel and drop it when he least expects it. you liked messing around with him, leaving him a mess and wanting more.

you had your makeup done to your liking and you knew that it was gonna turn him on. he liked dark makeup, crazy eyeliner with insane lashes and dark colors outlining your eye. it was awkward since your boobs were staring back at you in the mirror.

last you had saw him was laying in bed and messing around with his music. you knew that this was going to be a shock for him.

as you finished everything, you wrapped your large towel around you and giggled. you pulled yourself out of the bathroom and made your way over to your room. you opened the door and he turned around, looking over at you with a smile.

in that moment, you dropped the towel.

you are soon to notice that his jaw is on the floor. you giggle and walk over to him. you looked at his desk and there sat his phone.

he was streaming to his fans.

"FUCK!" you yelled, throwing yourself on the floor as your first reaction.

you basically started crawling back to your towel, your heart racing at a pace too fast to be able to breathe.

a donation rang through that embarrassed you completely.

"(y/n) has some nice fucking tits. time for her only fans era!"

you hissed at the statement and kurt still had his eyes on you.

"END THE FUCKING STREAM KURT!" you screamed with the upmost velocity you could.

he quickly scrambled from your desk chair and shut off his phone, throwing it to the bed. your body was shaking as you now know how many people probably started recording or screenshotting.

"how many people kurt?" you wrapped the towel around you again.

"i-like maybe 100 viewers?" he shrugged with his face full of worry. "i had just started as i heard the b-bathroom door close-shut!"

"and you just stared at me?" you stood up from the floor and held your towel with one hand, your other grabbing his hoodie from the edge of the bed.

"i-i'm sorry okay?" he yelled. "i-i just saw like, uh boobs in my face! they were like right there!"

you started going through your dresser, trying to pull out a bra and underwear. you were shaking, furious at yourself for not being careful and at kurt for being a fucking idiot.

he wasn't a fucking idiot, you were just blind with rage.

"seriously?" you yell again, pulling your towel off and quickly putting on your bra. "you were fucking fixated on my boobs? do you know how many fucking times you've seen them kurt!"

you pulled your underwear on and looked at him, his face red and his expression tense.

“fuck dude!” he threw his hands up. “i-i know but they-it always feels like the first time okay! and you were suddenly just naked in front of me! i didn’t know what to do!”

you threw his hoodie on, too angry to grab pants. you got in his face and pointed your finger, making sure he knew how upset you were. (he could already tell but you needed to get it out there)

“do you know what’s gonna happen to me kurt?” you asked with a voice full of worry and annoyance. “MY BOOBS AND VAGINA ARE GOING TO BE ON FUCKING TWITTER! THEY ARE GONNA BE TALKED ABOUT ON TIK TOK! IM GOING TO LOSE MY SPONSORSHIPS! MY CAREER IS OVER! NO ONE IS GONNA TAKE ME SERIOUSLY!”

he looked guilty and he tensed up, his face frightened by the way you snapped at him. he had never seen you like this in the full six months you two had been an item.

“i-i’m sorry okay,” he squeezed out, his voice trembling. “like i said, i was shocked. felt like the first time.”

you softened up, your finger dragging back down to your side. he turned and started picking up his stuff that was construed around your room. you stood where you were, tears starting to run down at a rapid rate. he was sniffling, bending down lazily to pick up his pajama pants, throwing them to the bed.

he said it felt like the first time. it always felt like the first time.

you watched him through your tears, upset that you hurt him and blamed him like he orchestrated the whole thing. you let your own torment become his in a matter of seconds and you were about to let him walk away feeling like it was all his fault.

“kurt,” you reached out for him and took a few steps, your hand pressed to his shoulder. “i’m sorry baby i didn’t mean to-“

“you j-just fucking yelled at me,” he said, his voice bursting through the room. “i feel very fucking weird right now.”

you pulled away for a minute, your hand hovering over his back as he shoved everything in his bag. you didn’t know what to do, it was clear he was mad at you and you didn’t want to make it worse.

“i am so sorry, that wasn’t your fault and i shouldn’t have made it your problem-“

“no you really shouldn’t have,” he interjected.

“i’m just mortified,” you sighed. “i don’t know what i’m going to do kurt. i already get relentlessly bullied and now they have more material to hurt me. i don’t want you to leave please, i’ll make it up to you. we can stream and i’ll try to suck it up, just for you.”

he turned around, his eyes were a sopping wet mess. his eyelashes were dark, his cheeks stained. you placed a palm to wipe off the drowning tears. he nuzzled into you a bit and you smiled.

“it always feels like the first time for me when i kiss you,” you gently kissed his other cheek. “like when we sat on the front of your car at the spot. the first time we really opened up to each other?”

he nodded and sniffled.

“or that first video we made and i kissed you at venice beach?” he had grabbed your hips at this point, your bodies pressing together. “i’m new to this. new to caring about someone, new to being famous, new to being with you. i’m sorry for screaming, i know that you don’t like that.”

he nodded and kissed you, your lips melding together perfectly with his. he pulled away and placed a hand on your head, pressing down your hair.

“we can get through it,” he reassured you. “it won’t be a big deal, i promise.”

and you hug him with all your might.

let’s hope you get through this.

#joe keery #kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle fanfiction #kurt kunkle fic #kurt kunkle x fem reader #kurt kunkle x reader #kurt kunkle/reader #kurtsworld96 #spree #spree movie

[weirdwriter69]

Just woke up from the best Ikémen Vampire dream I have had yet…

I was getting ready to go my magical university graduation ceremony, and I was excited to get my degree. I also planned to finally tell William Shakespeare that I had a crush on him. For me, it was just something I needed to get off my chest before I lost any chance I had of seeing him again. In this dream universe, I had eight older brothers, and they all warned me against it because they hated his guts and they thought I would get measles or some old 1800’s preventable disease.

Approaching the ceremony, I was looking for Will, but I couldn’t find him. He appeared out of the darkness and asked me to sit next to him. (The dream choose to change the script and change the ceremony to the King of England deciding who to pardon this year for their crimes.) I was super excited to see him because I haven’t seen him in a hot moment. The other students (?) were avoiding him because there was a lot of controversy in the news centered around him. He went off to live in a mansion full of vampires to get new play inspirations, and there, he decided to shot a reality show about vampires finding love in the modern. So far, the media was raging about how the hundred year old vampire, Arthur Conan Doyle, was finally settling down with a mysterious girl.

Once Will and I sat down, he asked me if I had heard about the next best romance he has in the works, and I guessed it had something to do with Arthur because that’s all that the news wouldn’t shut up about. This sly man goes, “No, me …” and dramatic pause. I was crushed because I liked him. “and you.” My heart fucking stopped. That was so smooth. All I could do with stuttered, and he continued (in Shakespearian English) about how he has always had his eye on me since we meet, and he wanted to make sure he told me now because we lose each other.

I was slam-jawed because I was planning on doing the same thing. Right after, the King calls up William Shakespeare because he was under suspicion of breaking wizard code and joining the vampires. Vampires were the “natural” enemies of wizards because of a war that happened so many centuries ago. None of the newer wizards cared, but the older generation of wizards still had a stick in their ass about it. The concern that a lot of the newer generation had was that Will became a vampire. He was going to hear a verdict from the King on whether or not he was guilty, and if he would be pardoned.

Will stood before the King on the stage, and the King told him that he was guilty. Before the King finished the phrase that Will wasn’t pardoned, I snuck behind his throne and put a cotton ball in his ear and said a spell to pardon him because I thought this was event was stupid. The King pardoned him instead. No one else noticed what I did expect for Will. (How did they not notice me put a cotton ball in the King’s ear on live TV? No clue.)

Will was pardoned and left the stage. He was flabbergasted that I did that for him. I told him, “We can be star-stuck later, but we have to book it out of here before they find out”.

So we are running out of the building when they finally make the announcement that some wizard broke one of the ten BioWed rules, a mixture of BioMedical ethics and Wedding vows (?).

I woke up before I learned what happened next, but my takeaway is that I would commit wizard warcrimes for Will lmao.

#ikemen vampire #cybird ikemen #dream #au? maybe? #weird dreams #ikemen vampire shakespeare #ikevamp shakespeare #breaking rules for Shakespeare

[louellathebabex]

To love and to lose (modern fic!)

Note from Lou: please do excuse any spelling mistakes, I can’t read English at times lmao and this is my first time writing on tumblr so please be nice❤️

Summary: Y/N is a very simple girl just wanting to get on with her normal day to day uni student life until she finds out that one of her lecture peers Aemond was mentally suffering, and through a harrowing loss the pair connect.

WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT :)

Warnings and TWs: angst, fear of loved one dying, ALS AWARENESS, funeral, dark themes

*note I don’t think I’ve missed any out but please do let me know if I have

———————————

To the naked eye, it would seem that y/n was part of the furniture, a quiet, lonely girl who never bothered a soul sits at the back of the lecture theatre in her own world.

She was almost a star student, never missing a deadline and though her brains and humble nature were her most prominent attributes…she was drop dead gorgeous, with flaming locks of copper hair and eyes a misty blue she captured the hearts of many men including the lone wolf Aemond, he was one of the rarer types…more suited to Y/N than what she imagined but she never thought that he’d be hiding such a large burden on his broad shoulders.

The morning bell rang twice to indicate that it was time for you to head to your final lecture of the day, it was surprisingly busy for a Wednesday afternoon which meant that there wouldn’t be any decent seats available but luckily there was one good seat…right next to the absolutely dashing Aemond Targaryen the one with the most beautiful sapphire that would cut through your heart every time you saw it.

You were almost nervous when you say to him “Hi, is this seat taken?” To which he replies a simple “no” with an almost somber expression

This was odd behaviour from Aemond, you knew him fairly well and know that he wasn’t a chatty type an definitely not the type of guy that would flirt with you non stop all throughout the lecture but he’d normally be a little more…warm towards you, but today he just seemed off almost as if something had been bothering him.

The lecture finished sooner than expected and at 3 o’clock on the dot, Aemond gathered his things and sharply left the theatre which was definitely a cause for concern as usually despite his cold and icy appearance he was extremely nice and would do anything for you if you needed him and normally after a lecture he would sit and talk for a bit but but today he just left, not even a goodbye or any form of acknowledgment…just up and left.

Something is definitely wrong here, is he ok? I really hope he’s ok, did I offend him? I hope not.

So after the lecture you went on the hunt to find either Aegon, Helaena or Daeron (Aemonds siblings) to find out what is going on with Aemond, whilst on the look out for any of his siblings you ran into one of his philosophy professors Mr. Stark, you wasn’t overly keen on him as he seemed like he cared more about his paycheck than what he did his students and wether or not he made a difference to their lives, but you felt that he could possibly know where Aemond is and why he is acting this way, so you ask him:

“Professor Stark, i was wondering have you seen Aemond coming through here? He seems off and I’m worried about him” you ask knowing that Stark won’t give you a straight answer bc he is a straight up ass and he likes to be difficult but at your surprise he actually tells you

“Y/N, I know that you care very much for Aemond, but I think you need to stay out of it for your own good…he has a troubled home life but that’s none of your concern, he’ll figure it out soon enough” The coldness in Stark’s voice both enraged you and chilled you to your core because although you cared about Aemond, almost to the point of loving him, you needed to let him breathe because whatever he’s going through is his business and only his but at the same time you feel like he needs you as a shoulder to cry on and a confidant.

As you were walking away from Professor dickhead as many of the other students called him, you just so happen to run into Helaena, Aemond’s older sister and biology and ecology student, who of course is observing bugs on the campus grounds and mumbling to herself words that you cannot understand but through her incoherent mumbles you were able to make out

“Beneath the soil, a monster lingers”

Her words rang into your ears as clear as day, which made you realise that Aemond was not being strange…he was mourning a death but judging by the evident sternness of Helaena’s voice whilst mumbling “beneath the soil, a monster lingers” it seems that this person that he was grieving for wasn’t the hero of his life…but then again this was all an assumption, you couldn’t be sure until you heard it from the horses mouth so you continued to look for him all around the campus but as the typical uni day ended, you couldn’t find Aemond anywhere.

You got home fairly quick, quicker than normal actually rush hour was over so getting back to the comfort of home was easier than expected. Luckily for you your mom was out for the evening with her friends, so the kitchen was yours and you could do whatever you want for dinner…you normally preferred it this way as there was nobody in the house to boss you about and tell you how to do what you know best- cooking…it was a secret passion of yours, there were very few meals that you didn’t know how to cook, your favourite was spaghetti in a creamy pesto sauce, you knew this recipe like the back of your hand as according to your best friend Odette it’s one of the best things she’s eaten…you’ve always taken those type of comments to the centre of your heart as it feels lovely knowing that someone loves your cooking as much as you do.

During your usual cooking routine you find that you don’t actually have any pesto, one of the key ingredients of your famous recipe so much to your dismay you have to go to your nearest store to go get some. It’s not a far walk to the store but it’s enough to make you rethink your life choices.

During the trek to the store which felt like a lifetime away, you see a rather familiar looking motorcycle, black with a blue sheen to it, you’ve seen it before but don’t quite know where. With the store finally in sight, you walking speed increases and just as you walk into the store you hear a very familiar voice…it’s him…Aemond still looking as somber as he was in the lecture theatre. You thought about going over to talk to him but what could you say? He looks extremely sad…bless his soul.

You felt extremely bad for him, he looks like he’s going through something you can’t even imagine, you decide to go over and talk to him he seemed to be alone. You decided that in his best interest that you weren’t going to listen to Stark’s advice, I mean what does he know

“Aemond?” You said softly, whilst lightly tapping his arm “Are you ok, I noticed that you seem a little off”

He quickly turned and looked at you, the blue sapphire in the place of his right eye seemed darker than usual almost as if it reacts to his feelings

“Y/N? What luck that you’d be here, I can’t tell you what’s going on right now, it’s…tough” Aemonds voice seemed to crack after he told you that he can’t talk about it right now and as he turned away from you to walk away you grabbed his arm gently and said

“if you need to talk to anyone, please keep me in mind…loss is tough, I get that wholeheartedly but no one should go through it alone because you’ll make yourself ill”

“I wish I was the ill one-“ Aemond interrupted through a choked up voice. “I really can’t talk about it right now, if your available later tonight…we can talk about it then, I’ll ask Helaena for your number so you can give me the address”

Just as you was about to tell him your address, Aemond strode off in his usual fashion towards the checkout line, leaving you both sad and intensely interested in what was so intensely bothering him, later tonight couldn’t come faster.

You got what you needed from the store including some snacks because why not and you headed back to your apartment. As you were walking back from the store, the words “I wish I was the ill one” kept repeating in your head like a broken record, wondering what he meant by that, could it be that a close relative or one of his siblings were very ill? You truly had no idea, Aemond was very skilled in keeping himself to himself he never let anything bother him, or so you thought

Later on in the evening as you expected a phone call came through from Helaenas number, you loudly gulped down your hot chocolate as you waited for Aemonds arrival, you appeared to live not to far away from Aemond so as soon as he put the phone down, you were expecting a fast arrival from him.

About 15mins later, a loud ring was heard from throughout you apartment’s intercom system…it was him, still with the same somber look on his face as you saw him a few hours prior, you buzz him in and as you could hear his footsteps approaching the door, your heart thumped in your chest…as you opened the door he let down his hood and the blue sapphire lit up the room, as it normally did. Aemond strode through the hallway as you directed him into the lounge

“You’ve got a nice place here Y/N, much more…homely looking than my own place” Aemond said with a twitch of his upper lip, somewhat resembling a smile…the first you’ve seen since 2 days ago.

“I tried my best with the decor, I’m more of a…plain person if you will” you let out with a small laugh, the more you spoke to Aemond the more comfortable he seemed.

“Whenever your ready Aemond, please do tell me what’s going on…it’s utterly heartbreaking seeing you so sad” your comforting and warm voice seemed to coax Aemond into expressing himself, in a way that he hasn’t been able to do in some time.

“I’ve been going through it if I’m completely honest with you Y/N, about a week ago my mother fell ill…she’s normally fit and healthy but as of late she’s been finding herself having swallowing difficulties, she’s weak, she slurs her words…I decided to call the doctors a few weeks back and explained to her the situation and she told me that the answer probably wasn’t what I wanted to hear but she wants to run some tests…yesterday evening she called me and told me that her suspicions were right and that she had ALS…i don’t really know how to cope Y/N, just the thought of losing her haunts my dreams at night”

————————————————HI, JUST BEFORE YOU GO AHEAD AND READ THE REST if your affected by the events happening in this fic please don’t hesitate to contact me at my Twitter: @louvuvv, if you ever want a conversation about anything that’s bothering you, please don’t hesitate to get in touch, Lots of love🩷 *also if you would like more information and details about ALS please follow this link and if you’d like to donate to the ALS association please follow this link————————————————

Your eyes widened and couldn’t stop yourself from becoming emotional, you couldn’t quite believe it…how awful, just the thought of losing your mom was harrowing let alone actually losing your mom slowly.

With teary eyes you comforted Aemond and said “Oh Aemond, I don’t know what to say…I’m so sorry, now that you’ve told me we can work together so I can support you through this as much as I can”

As the days and weeks pass, Aemond slowly started to become more comfortable with sharing his thoughts and feelings with you and the deep connection became apparent to you both. But sadly as he got more confident speaking about his worries with you, his poor mother worsened, and the more Aemond saw her…the more frail and fragile she looked. By the time that Aemond turned 23 his mother’s condition had completely deteriorated to the point that you barely saw the Targaryen children around the small town you lived in.

On one dull gloomy day, the time came…the time that was inevitable to avoid, you passed the Targaryen household to give Helaena back her watch that you borrowed and all curtains, blinds and shutters were closed…Aemond’s mother had sadly passed away.

The church bells echoed throughout the town to mark the saddest death all year, everyone was super close with Aemond’s mother she was a staple council member…she was always the one that would organise all the summer fetes, Christmas markets and charity events…but now the village got so much quieter as her death was felt in everyone.

Summer passed with no summer fete, no markets were put up this year all notable charity events never happened and Christmas was just another day on the calendar. Her funeral was held on a solemn Friday, no laughter was to be heard and no joy to be felt, but in her wake the sun shone through the thick grey clouds signalling a new and brighter day was about to begin.

Two days after her funeral, things started to slowly go back to normal, small businesses started to reopen and the streets became busier. In memory of Aemond’s mother, you decided to throw a charity fete just how she would with all the bells and whistles…but this time instead of Cancer Research, you decided to host the fete for the ALS association…it seemed appropriate in light of the recent events…and to make sure that no expense was spared, all of the Targaryen children chipped in and gave their fair share of work. The planning of the charity fete went surprisingly smoothly, no problems seemed to arise from your point of view, everything fell into place as it should so that everything was perfect.

Two hours prior to the fete, you were setting out the final preparations and out of nowhere you were approached by a grief stricken Aemond

“You’ve done amazingly well with this charity event Y/N, I don’t think I could thank you enough for all your hard work to keep my mothers memory alive without even knowing her personally” despite his grief and sadness being evident in his voice, he seemed to have a glimmer in his eye signalling to you that despite his grief and his worst fears coming true…he still has hope that someone in his life could make him happy once again, you responded to him with a hug…the first hug he’s accepted and embraced since the worst day of his lifetime and despite Aemond not giving any form of emotion away, you felt something…as his true Targaryen nose buried into your soft skin you thought, could it be a spark between you and him?

The fete was amazing, a true representation of how brilliant and true his mother was and much to your surprise you raised £5,495 for the ALS association, such a grand amount which made you extremely proud to be part of such a loving community.

As the final cheque was sent of to the charity, you felt a hand placed lightly on your shoulder…it was Aemond once again but this time he returned with a big bunch of flowers, blue flowers at that.

“Thank you once again for your efforts Y/N, you’ll never know how much this means to me” and before you could respond he pulled you into a kiss, so deep that you could feel all the pain from his body slip away.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for quite some time, your a rare one Y/N and nothing would make me happier than to be yours” he said gazing right into your misty blue eyes, you knew now that this was the spark you were looking for…you’ve never been truly honest with yourself up until now, you’ve loved Aemond for a very very long time but you’ve always been to much of a chicken to admit it so when you saw him completely unfold his feelings to you on that day and when he thanked you for your charitable efforts, you just knew that you loved him.

One hundred percent sure.

“Nothing would make me happier for you to be mine Aemond truly, but first we should give these flowers to someone that i feel deserves them the most” you said holding up the beautiful bunch of flowers to your small aquiline nose.

You walked away from the post box both Aemond and flowers in hand and walked over to the cemetery where his mother was buried…you and Aemond went to go find her plot and the both of you, hands intertwined laid the flowers down in front of her marble headstone.

As the flowers were laid down in front of her name, a blue butterfly flew down and settled on both of your interlocked hands

It must’ve been her.

————————————————

A message from Lou:

Hi again! Thank you for reading my fic🩷it was a sad one huh? As I said above in the intermission, if your affected by any of the events in this fic please do get in contact via my twitter account @Louvuvv

I’ll see you soon with a spicy fic! Take care xx

#modern fic #house of the dragon aemond #aemondxreader #aemond targaryen

[cherryeol04]

Action! | Ch 9

Genre: Humor, Romance, Slice of life?, Crackheadedness

Pairings: BaekRen, MinRon

Work Count: 2.5K

Summary:  From the moment he was casted, Ren wasn't sure if he had what it would take to be a pop idol. Losing faith in himself, he was going to give up the future he had always wanted, but one person stood by his side and renewed his faith. After a hot debut and rapid growth of stardom, Ren started to notice that maybe this person, his close friend, was something more. But how could a straight man even remotely think of a homosexual relationship?

Warnings: Homophobia, some smut (chapters will be marked)

A/N: I wrote this series back in 2012 and used OCs and over the top writing style for arguments. Whoops. Lmao it’s pretty decent though, so I hope you enjoy!

↶Previous     Next↷

Ren’s POV

I felt so bad and I don’t know how many times I apologized to Minhyun. I hadn’t thought that so soon after our talk, he would confront JR on his take on homosexuality. I thought for sure he would wait a while, that he would need more time to think over how to approach the subject. Apparently, all it took was a single book.

I hadn’t been there to give the other support. Instead, I was out playing ball with Baekho and Aron and I beat them both. Minhyun cried most of the day and it was well into the evening time before the three of us had gotten back. When JR told me that Minhyun had been in his room all night and after learning what they had talked about, I knew instantly and I was there for him. I never left his side that night.

It was pretty clear, from both JR’s rendition of the conversation and what Minhyun said, that JR was okay with someone being gay so long as he didn’t have to know about it and that he certainly wasn’t gay himself. It had been upsetting for Minhyun and all night all I heard was how hard it was going to be to work with him. Hearing how much Minhyun was just going to leave the group because he was sure he wasn’t going to be able to get through this.

But he had me, and he knew he did. I spent all night in his room, talking with him, comforting him and assuring him that he would get over it. Though it hurt now, and I knew how much being heartbroken hurt, he would get over it eventually. Not right away obviously, because he needed time to mourn this loss, but he would eventually move on and find someone else.

Maybe Aron if I could help it. Aron-hyung liked Minhyun a lot. And now that JR was out of the picture, not that he was really in the picture to begin with, maybe I could work something out with getting them together. But that would later, after Minhyun’s heart had healed some.

~*~*~

Minhyun’s POV

I felt so alone, lying in my bed crying. I don’t know how long I had been in there, but the light had been dying down for some time now, darkness blanketing me. It suited the mood, the darkness. It wrapped me up in its comforting embrace, hiding me from the world. It allowed me to express my feelings without fear of getting caught. Not that it mattered. I don’t think Jonghyun would have come to check on me as it was.

Sometime had passed when my door suddenly opened, the light from the hall streaming in, alerting me to the presence. Lifting my head, I turned and stared at the figure for a long, hard moment.

“Minhyun.” It moved, stepping in and closing the door. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t long before the other was at my bed and I sat up, wrapping my arms around the small frame. I was so happy, so relieved that finally Minki was home, and was there for me, to hold me. It was such a relief to finally have this comfort from the one person I knew I could count on no matter what. It seemed odd, to be relying on my maknae so much, but I couldn’t help it, and I don’t think he minded that much.

Fresh tears fell from my eyes as I replayed the conversation to the other, though Minki said he had even talked to Jonghyun before coming in. I had expected to just cry myself to sleep, for Minki to tuck me in and then leave. But he didn’t. I did cry myself to sleep, he did tuck me in, but he didn’t leave. He laid down next to me; he held me and stayed with me. I was so thankful for that, especially when I woke during the night, crying. During those times, we spent time talking about things and just keeping each other company. I never felt like I was burdening the other with this problem. He sat there, listening intently and was so understanding and kind. If only I had feelings for Minki like I did Jonghyun, and if only Minki was gay like me. I think maybe, in an odd way, we would have been a happy couple.

I don’t know how late we were up, but it was early morning before I finally laid back down, calm and went to sleep. It was a dreamless sleep, but restful. When morning came though, and I stepped out with Minki to get breakfast, the horrible feelings from the night before came rushing back at the simple sight of Jonghyun. I felt Minki take my hand, squeeze it for reassurance and whisper encouragement. I would survive this; I would eventually get over the other and move on. There is no point in crying over a relationship that never would have happened in the first place.

Taking a breath, I collected myself and joined the others at the table. It was hard, but I even managed a smile or two. It hurt and I’m sure it would hurt for a long while, but I knew I was taking a step in the right direction.

~*~*~

Baekho’s POV

I don’t know what was going on, but something was definitely different about everyone. Well maybe not everyone. I know nothing was different about me. Aron-hyung, well I knew what was different about him. It was the other three members that I was confused on. The night before, I overheard parts of the conversation JR had with Ren, but I couldn’t really make heads or tails of what was going on. Whatever it was though, it had something to do with Minhyun, who looked very depressed, despite trying to engage with others and make jokes.

Minhyun…was different.

“What the hell is going on?” Aron leaned over and whispered to me.  Looking at him, I shrugged. I was just as lost as he was. We sat in our stools, watching the three squabble over who got to sit in what seat and why.

“Baekho hyung.” Minhyun said. “Sit down here with JR and Ren.” He said as he practically pushed me out of my seat. What the hell was that for? Grunting, I dusted myself off before taking a seat next to JR, who looked just as confused as I did. On the other side of him, Ren was staring at Minhyun worriedly. Why?

Oh right! Damn I nearly forgot. Minhyun liked JR. What was he, like five? It was plainly obvious you liked someone when you didn’t want to sit next to him. Or maybe it wasn’t? I wasn’t sure, but it was obvious to me. Minhyun better be careful so he’s not caught on camera.

“Alright, you’re on in five.” The producer called. This interview was an important one. It was going to help us promote our activities and our first mini album. Everything had to go smoothly. I just hoped they didn’t ask questions that would put any of us on the spot.

~*~*~

Aron’s POV

JR and Minhyun were acting like little children and Ren certainly wasn’t helping the situation. It was normal for JR to be childish and for Ren to get in on the act, being the maknae and all. But for Minhyun to act that way, it was strange. He wasn’t the parental type, but he wasn’t the overly adorable, playful maknae type either. He was in the middle. A combination of both really. He could be both level headed, but at the same time, knew how to joke and have fun. That’s what I really liked about the other, was his ability to do so.

I asked Baekho what was going on, but he was just as lost as me. And from the look on our leader’s face, he was lost too. It seemed whatever was going on, only Minhyun and Ren knew. It had something to do with whatever happened last night. I know I wasn’t the only one that noticed that Ren went into Minhyun’s room and didn’t come out till the next morning. I’ll admit, I was jealous the other could get so close to Minnie like that, but I knew nothing was going on. Ren wasn’t gay. He spent most of his time trying to prove his manliness. But I learned once in school that those who tried overly hard to prove they are something usually were what they are trying to prove they’re not. In less confusing terms, Ren was really gay but didn’t know it.  This was something I could see happening. He was cute, adorable, and feminine; it would be wrong if he wasn’t gay or at least bisexual.

I watched as Minhyun pushed Baekho out of his seat and took the spot up. Poor Baekho, being treated so horribly, not that I felt that bad. Sometimes…he deserved it. Looking back at Minhyun, I leaned over and nudged him. “What’s going on?”

He turned and stared at me before shrugging. His attention turned back to the front, his face was emotionless. It was disturbing. This wasn’t my Minnie, the playful, level-headed idol I’ve been training with for a year or better. This was someone else and I didn’t like it. I wanted to ask more, to press this issue, but the interview started. It was important we all worked hard to stay on track, not goof off and promote our activities. Though we had a fan base already, we needed a bigger one. More fans meant more money, more fame. More fans meant more work, which meant we could spend more time together as a group. Fame and money was good, but my friends, this group meant more to me. Minhyun meant more to me. I had to do my best!

~*~*~

Ren’s POV

I’m not sure what the hell happened, but it had my head spinning and pounding at the same time. I was never so thankful for an interview to start than at that moment in time. Everyone was settled and quiet as JR did most of the talking. The tension though was there and everyone felt. Skinship actually seemed to be a forced interaction between the members this time around and I took notice, and I’m sure the others did too, that Minhyun purposefully kept from having to do any sort of skinship with Jonghyun.

“Face is a song targeted towards the hardships that all teenagers go through when in school.” JR said. “It’s something that we felt as a group, should be brought to light and addressed by parents.” He said.

“Ren, there’s a part in the song where Minhyun comes and pushes you. Tell us your feelings behind that scene.” The interviewer asked.

I stared at the woman, my head nodding slowly as I thought about the question. “Well…to be honest, when the members first learned the choreography, I had been absent because of a cold.” I said. “So I didn’t know that part existed. So as I gradually learned the steps, when the second verse started and Minhyun-hyung came up and pushed me, I was a bit hurt.”  I said.

“Don’t lie.” Baekho said and I turned to stare at him. He was grinning. “Ren got violent first and went to push him back.”

I blushed and turned back to the camera. I forgot about that part. I had gotten violent. “Ah, right.” I said and laughed softly. “But I felt hurt and that’s why I got violent.” I covered. “But then they explained to me that it was part of the dance, and I apologized.” I said. I thought for a moment more on what to say.

“That scene is very powerful.” I added. “Because it’s talking about a friend promising not to say rude things to another friend, and then turns around and pushes him while saying something mean. I think it’s something that most of us can relate to.” The other members nodded in agreement with me.

“Aron, your main parts are rapping and at the end of the song, you rap in such perfect English. It’s known that you’re Korean-American. When you came over from America, did you know any Korean, and if not, who was the biggest help to you?” the interviewer asked.

“Ah, when I came over, I didn’t know a single word of Korean. Actually, I remember when I first met Ren; I tried talking to him and he just stared at me funny.” He said and I laughed. I still remember that day, sitting next to him on the couch. I thought he was slow too. I still want to know whose idea it was to let a non-Korean speaking Korean to be a trainee before even learning the language.

“The person who was the biggest help to me was Baekho. He didn’t teach me so much as the words, but how to speak. Being polite and the culture. In America, you really don’t show a lot of respect to kids who are older than you. You always show respect to your elders, but it’s different. This was certainly a culture shock to me, but I was able to pull through and learn quickly thanks to his help.”

Baekho, help? Was that the reason why it took him a few months to even call me? I never heard that one before. Nonetheless, I suppose that’s where Aron picked up his mannerisms. The interview continued on for another half an hour with different questions being asked. When it finally ended, sighs of relief left us all. I nearly fell when I stood, my legs numb from being in one position for such a long time.

“Careful.” JR said as he caught me, helping to balance me until I got the feeling back in my legs.

“Thanks.” I said and smiled at him. Over his shoulder, I could see Minhyun watching before he turned to leave. I wanted to smack myself. Stepping back, I thanked JR once more before starting for the dressing room when I felt a hand grab my arm.

Turning, I stared back at Baekho. He had that look in his eyes and I wanted to run. But at the same time, I knew that we had to talk. Either Baekho had figured out what was going on, or he was going to ask me what was going on (which I wouldn’t be surprised one bit about. He was still a dense smiling clown).

“We need to talk.” He said and looked around. “Privately.”

Nodding in agreement, he released my arm and I followed him to the restroom. Not the most ideal place to have a private conversation, but it was better than any. The members were going to be changing and getting ready to leave. We had a limited amount of time, but whatever it was that we needed to talk about, I knew we could get it all worked out before someone came looking for us. At least…I hoped.

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