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celtic-crossbow · 2 months

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Blood Ties Chapter 23

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; a tad bit of angst; smidge of illness; all the pregnancy woes in the world; some suggestive dialogue A/N: There's some serious fluff in this. I tried so hard to keep Daryl in character while having him offer all he could to a person doing something precious for him. I hope I succeeded. The explanation of midnight blue is a little bit of self indulgence. It's my own favorite color and the reason why. I know I skipped the nursing home scene but I took the liberty of adding into the timeline somewhere as a mention.

The events of the day before had ended in the most amusing way, with you nearly inviting Carol in before getting dressed.

“She knows what tits and a vagina look like, Daryl.”

“She don’t know what my dick looks like, Y/N!”

“Touche, sir.”

All ended well and Carol saw no genitalia that fine day.

You had officially worn one another out. After the Tylenol and Carol’s snickers and knowing smiles, you and Daryl fell onto the pillows and slept until the next morning. The fever remained, albeit burning less and less hot each time the old man would look him over. His lungs were sounding better. Hershel removed the IV when the archer proved he could keep up with hydrating and promised to take it easy. Of course, he would. He had you as his warden.

The next evening, after a bowl of hearty stew with the venison you had brought back,—two bowls for Daryl—you laid in bed. He wasn’t complaining, for once, and actually seemed to be close to falling asleep. It had been a relief to watch him eat well, even if he did try to share the second bowl. You were feeling a little nauseated, sharing that knowledge honestly when you turned down his offering. Your condition had definitely improved, the severity of the occurrences much less concerning. Things were actually okay.

“Daryl?” You licked your suddenly dry lips but continued drawing patterns on his bare chest from your spot against his side with his arm wrapped around you. He hummed, his usual reply, eyes remaining closed while his thumb swept back and forth over your ribs. When you didn’t answer right away, he pulled you a little closer. It was unclear if it was intentional or not.

“What?” He cleared his throat, his voice still gravelly.

“Can we—I’d like to know more about you.” Your timid request must have snagged his attention because he was shifting your bodies to lie face to face, one hand below his cheek and the other rubbing small circles just over where the baby had finally stopped tap dancing. He was giving you that look, the squinted eyes that scrutinized someone for any indication of dishonesty or hidden agenda. He should know you better than that by now, but you remained quiet.

“Whaddaya wanna know?” He finally queried, his hand going still but remaining where it was.

“Anything. Everything.” You shrugged your available shoulder. “If we’re gonna do this—be an us—then we need to know one another, don’t you think?” He started tapping a finger against your abdomen.

“S’your favorite color?”

You huffed a laugh through your nose, scrunching it with a smile. “Midnight blue. What’s yours?” He pulled a face, curiosity shining through.

“Why midnight?” He asked with a sniff, shuffling around a bit on the pillow.

“Because even though I know it isn’t, I like to think that’s the color of the night sky. Not black, but dark blue and full stars. Black is nothing, it’s lonely, but to think of it as blue. It’s a little more comforting.” The archer gave you a thoughtful look, the corner of his mouth ticking upward so minutely that anyone else would have missed it. Not you. “Now, what’s yours?”

He mimicked your earlier shrug. “Dunno. Don’t really got one, I guess.” Your silence beckoned him to explain. After moving his hand from below his cheek to chew on the side of his thumb, he eventually elaborated. “Grew up learnin’ to ‘preciate all’a ‘em. House was—it was always dark, ‘specially after mama died. When my old man—I spent a lot’a time outside. Noticed things. Blue sky’d turn a bit purple before it’d snow, even if it was just a lil’. Grass—it’d be green but have those brown pieces where I’d walk all’a the time. Creek looked muddy unless ya stood in it. Then ya’d see the bottom an’ how the water’d catch the light. Sometimes it’d be blue, sometimes kinda green. Just depended on the day.” His gaze had dropped away from you at some point, focused on the miniscule area of bed sheets between your bodies.

You were glad for it because your eyes had started to fill and shine. You were granted the opportunity to blink back the tears before he looked up. Daryl was so much more than anyone had given him credit for, than anyone had been willing to learn. Carol had told you a story about an exchange with Andrea, when she had taken a jab at what she thought was his limited vocabulary.

“Get a dictionary. Look it up. Observant.”

“D’ya like dogs or cats?” He asked so suddenly that you nearly flinched, realizing that you had just been staring at some point past his head for an undetermined amount of time. There was no way he hadn’t noticed.

“I like both, but I’m a dog person.” You frowned. Having a dog would probably be something your child would never get to experience. “You?”

“Dogs. Cats ain’t trustworthy.” It was such an amusing thing to say with such a straight face. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wait, I need to hear this.” You caught him staring at your lips, maybe watching you laugh or maybe he wanted to kiss you. Both? You pretended not to notice.

“Dogs’re smart but cats’re calculated. Make ya think they’re all innocent when they ain’t. Always up to somethin’.”

“What I’m hearing is that you’re afraid of cats.” You smirked, absently reaching to run your fingers through his hair. Daryl made a disgruntled sound and shook his head to stave off your attempts.

“Ain’t afraid’a ‘em. Just don’t trust ‘em.”

“Right.” You nodded, face falling into feigned seriousness before it became real, your next question burning inside your chest, just below the fear you’d need to surpass to ask. He was likely to shut down the session, maybe even close off completely. You could always hope he’d begun to trust you enough to open up, even if only a little, but the prospect suddenly seemed so far away. “Daryl.”

“Ask.” He was looking right into your eyes with a hint of determination you’d seen before when the circumstances were different, dire even. Was that how he saw this? A dire situation that could result in you being gone in some way?

“Who—what happened?” You let a single fingertip press gently against the deepest scar on his chest, your eyes lingering on it for but a moment before you contradicted his intensity with tenderness. Not pity, but a gentle curiosity. A request to allow you to understand.

“My dad—he was never a good man.” He swallowed hard. “Got worse after mama died. She drank. Fell asleep with a smoke, burned up in our house.” His fingers were plucking at the small space between you, a fine tremor in his hand. He pulled it out of your reach when you reached for it. “Didn’t know what to do with us, I guess. Me an’ Merle—my brother.” The brother that Rick had left behind in Atlanta, the brother who was likely dead. Yet another relative your baby would never know. “Merle tried to—he’d take the beatin’ when he could, did his best. Booked it outta there when he couldn't take it no more. Joined the army.” His eyes were wet, but he sniffed and cleared his throat. “Wasn't nothin’ standin’ between me an’ the old man then—between me an’ the belt. The cigarettes.” He fell silent, clearly finished with talking about his parents.

“Tell me about Merle?” You ventured, shot down with a shake of his head against the pillow.

“Ain’t your turn.” He sniffed again. “Your mama—tell me ‘bout your mama.” It wasn’t exactly a question, more of a soft demand; an it’s only fair. You didn’t mind. You’d accepted her abandonment long ago. You had been content with the amazing father with whom you were gifted.

“She booked it. We didn’t have a lot of money, and she never really wanted me in the first place. Tucked tail and ran the first chance she got.” You shrugged, unbothered beyond the twinge of guilt you felt for being so okay with the hand you had been dealt while Daryl struggled to even think about his past. “I didn’t even miss her. I mean, it sucked at first. I always felt bad, watching daddy struggle. So, I learned to help and that was that.”

He was so obviously jealous, yet another emotion that he didn't know how to process. You saw the anger flare before he doused it, returning to a solemn state of silence. He was awaiting your question, wherein you found a dilemma. Did you push through the conversation about his family? Or did you switch to something else, give him a break?

“Thank you for trusting me.” When you reached for him then, he didn’t pull away. His mask cracked and a few pieces fell away, but he held the rest steady. “That’s enough for now, okay? If you have more questions, I’ll answer them. Gladly. But you’ve shared enough, okay?” When he studied you, you didn’t let him proceed with his usual scrutiny. “It’s fine, Daryl. We can talk more when—if—you ever want to again. You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

He accepted the out with a long exhale and a nod, his gaze falling away. You embraced the silence and its discomfort, just touching him while he was in a place to allow it. You stroked his cheek, the stubble thicker than usual with his confinement to the bed. You smoothed his hair, scratched gently over his scalp. Finally, you scooted closer and pulled him toward you to meet in the middle. Tangling your legs around his, you guided his head to rest under your chin. He let you without complaint or denial, a testament to how he had silently endured when he needed comforting.

The two of you laid there, his breaths evening out to the point where you thought he had fallen asleep. Then, breaking the silence, he cleared his throat. “Why me?” You pulled back just enough to angle your head and look at him.

“Why you what?”

“Why ya settlin’ with me? We can raise a kid together without you givin’ up a chance with someone better.” He took a deep breath, keeping his head down. “I won’t hold ya to it if ya change your mind later—if someone shows—”

“There’s no one better.” You nearly snapped at him, your tone harsher than you’d ever meant for it to be. He flinched and you instantly hated yourself for it. You’d seen someone’s quick movements earn that reaction before, but words hardly affected Daryl physically, not like that. “Daryl.” You silently pleaded with him to look at you, but were left disappointed. “There’s no one better.” You repeated, so softly that it was almost a whisper, your breath disturbing his hair. “I want to raise this baby with you. I want to be with you. I love you. That’s not gonna change.”

He simply hummed, the sound reverberating against your throat. You wanted to throttle him, but none of his self-deprecation was his fault. You hated people you didn’t even know for it. “Don’t deserve all this.” Your brow furrowed deeply at his words. “Feel like m’gettin’ somethin’ meant for someone else. Like m’takin’—” The words died on the tip of his tongue. What could you even say to that? You could tell him he deserved the world—the fucking universe—but he’d never believe it. You’d just have to show him. It would take time and patience that would likely be tested over and over, but he was worth it.

“You’ll see.” You settled back against him, let silence fall between you again. After a while, he actually did fall asleep, the tension you had noticed in him finally melting away into a restful state he so desperately needed in order to continue getting well. A kiss was pressed into his hair. You never fell asleep yourself, simply lying there with him. Your heart ached yet it was full. With your fingers traveling up and down his back in gentle motions you hoped were comforting even within his dreams, you told him again. “You’ll see.”

Daryl was coughing strenuously by the time you reached the truck, his hand pressed hard against his chest. The cold air, the rush of grabbing up all the bags, the running from the herd—it was taking its toll on his still healing body.

“Keys.” You demanded. “I’m driving.” You could see it on his face that he was going to argue, but he doubled over in another fit of coughs and deep, wheezing gasps. Digging in his pocket through the ordeal, he tossed you the keyring. The bags you two were responsible for were tossed into the back next to the bike. It took the archer two attempts to pull himself onto the bench seat, which required the effort of both your bodies to move back in order to accommodate your 30 week bump. Just as your door closed, a discolored hand slapped against the window, startling you into a shout.

The van was already moving when you pressed the gas to peel out behind it, mowing down at least three walkers. Dark blood splattered onto the windshield, smearing but mostly washing away when you used the partially frozen fluid and wipers. Daryl’s forehead was against the dashboard as he fought to catch his breath in the chilled air. You were fumbling for the temperature controls when he smacked your hand away.

“Just—just drive. I got it.” He rasped, the warming air filling the cab a moment later. His back thudded against the seat, shaking it slightly, his head falling back against the headrest with his eyes closed. He was finally sucking in gulps of air into irritated, partially healed lungs. When you reached a point that was safe enough to pull off, you would make sure the group remembered his state of health and didn’t travel for too long before finding anything suitable and safe enough for a stay of at least a few days. “Quit your worryin’, woman. M’good.”

“Just don’t, Daryl.” You argued quietly, desperate to keep the peace between the pair of you that you’d managed to create. “Let me worry. If you don’t fight me on it, I’ll be less likely to do something stupid.” You glanced over, finding his head rolled toward you, his jaw set but he relented with a jerk of his head.

“Fine. Just have ‘em find whatever. S’long as it keeps your ass right here beside me.”

You smiled and silently celebrated your victory, even as he noticed and grumbled beside you. When you placed your hand, palm up, on the seat between you, only a heartbeat passed before you felt him squeezing your fingers.

Roughly eight weeks left, though Hershel said you could safely deliver if you made it at least four more weeks. You were actually becoming slightly miserable. The nausea would come and go, though you actually vomited less and less. Your ankles were missing completely under the puffy skin. Your belly felt so heavy that even just standing was becoming a chore. Lori was sympathetic, constantly giving you advice. Not only you but Daryl as well. You had seen her whispering to him, watched the way he would go completely still, not looking at her but listening intently. Rick could give him all the advice in the world but Lori’s input was crucial. She knew exactly what you needed.

The archer argued with you less and less, though you could see the restraint it took for him to bite his tongue, sometimes literally. He let you hunt with him because you were restless. Lori had said it was because of the urge to start nesting, which you had found amusing, but Daryl already knew about it because of the damn books he continued to snatch up on runs. Why it frustrated you that he was willing to go that extra mile was beyond your comprehension. Maybe because he knew more about what was going on with your body than you did? You should have been grateful, but all you wanted to do was kick him in the shins.

“Can ya just—nevermind.” He grunted from behind you while the two of you tracked some turkeys. You knew they’d be in the trees for the cold weather so you kept your eyes upward, irritating the hunter when you would nearly trip or run into something. Still, he kept his cool, which was admirable for your hot-headed partner. Daryl didn’t like the term boyfriend, you’d discovered during a brief conversation where you’d found your tongue looser than normal and spilling out questions you’d otherwise never ask. The two of you had settled on being partners, though you didn’t feel it was enough to describe your relationship. He had simply shrugged.

You couldn’t hunt with a gun. He’d all but forbade it. Too loud, would draw walkers. So he found you a bow. Not a crossbow but a traditional one. It didn’t take much practice. You only needed to become familiar with the tension of the string, how far to pull for the trajectory and speed needed. Aiming came naturally.

“Shut up, Daryl. I’m fine.” You snapped, instantly muttering an apology. It was but wasn’t his fault you felt so crappy. It took two to make the baby whose little foot or hand or whatever was always pressing into your ribs. You were just as responsible and tried to remember that even when it was you and not him that felt like absolute shit most of the time. As if the world was hellbent on fucking with you, the toe of your boot found its way beneath an exposed root and you nearly faceplanted. If not for Daryl’s constant observance, you surely would have.

He snagged your bicep, dropping his crossbow to reach across your chest and grip your other shoulder. All you needed was a dislocated shoulder when you were already so beyond miserable. He made sure you stayed on your feet, nearly stumbling himself, but saying nothing when you found his irritated but concerned gaze. The weight of it instantly brought on the sniffling you knew was about to lead to a breakdown.

Over the course of only three weeks, the archer had memorized the signs and adapted, learning how to soothe you even at the expense of his own comfort. He immediately pulled you into his arms as close as he could with your ever-growing belly between you, shushing you and rubbing your back.

“S’alright. I won’t letcha fall.”

Noble as his intentions were, that only seemed to stir up even more guilt. “I don’t know why I can’t just listen when you tell me I should stay behind! Why do you let me just do whatever I want even when you know it’s the wrong choice?!” You rubbed your wet face against his button up, leaving a dark spot and not for the first time.

“Cause you’re hard-headed an’ feelin’ like crap. Only make ya feel worse for me to argue with ya.”

And just like that, the switch flipped. “I’m not hard-headed, Daryl! I’m fucking capable and everyone wants to treat me like I’m gonna break!” You pushed him away roughly and stomped forward, sniffling harder than necessary. You heard a sigh from behind you, the sound of him picking up his crossbow and before following at a distance.

When you shot down the turkey, even beyond the pride you felt carrying it back, something told you that he saw it first but didn’t even raise his weapon.

Carol had heated some water for you so you could wipe down, feeling like your skin was crawling after being in the woods all day. It was a foreign feeling for the leaves and cool, fresh air to feel like it stuck to your flesh and needed to be scrubbed away. You were a mess. Your body hurt and you constantly needed to pee. You were irritable. You’d want Daryl to fuck you one minute and then shove him away the moment he touched the slick apex of your thighs. You were torturing the poor man who didn’t have a clue how to provide the type of comfort you needed when he couldn’t even process how to overcome his own lack of it growing up.

You didn’t hear him enter the room as you bowed over the small sink in the dusty bathroom, your skin still damp beneath your long sleeved shirt and flannel sleep pants. You had washed your hair to the best of your ability, the wet strands forming a curtain around your face that blocked your view of the door. You didn’t startle when you felt the heat of his body behind you. It was familiar at that point in a way you couldn’t explain.

“I’m so sorry, Daryl.” You whispered, the syllables of his name coming out as a soft whimper. His hands settled on your hips, fingers flexing nervously.

“S’okay.” He stepped closer and you fully expected to feel his erection press against your ass, but that wasn’t the case. There was only the firm safety of his body, your human security blanket. “Wanna—can I try somethin’?” His voice shook beside your ear but his hands remained steady, digits still squeezing and releasing. Not trusting your voice, you nodded, his exhale warm against your neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t his warm palms sliding beneath your belly and lifting with more gentleness than you were aware a human being could possess. The absence of the weight pulling down was an instant relief, your muscles turning to jello. You leaned back against him and he kept you upright, silently offering you comfort and succor that your body didn’t even know it needed.

“Fuck.” You breathed, eyes fluttering closed and head laying back against his shoulder. The tears came when his lips pressed against your temple, wordlessly expressing his gratitude for what you were enduring. “Thank you.” Your own appreciation trembled over your lips, whether toward the man at your back or a god you weren’t sure you believed in for putting him there.

#murda writes #blood ties #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fluff #pregnant!reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon the walking dead

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livingemkayde · 10 months

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ch iv. tacit

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter four of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, miscommunications. very brief mentions of sexual situations. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: tommy miller 'accidentally' sets joel up on a blind date on your night out. you're definitely not happy about it, and neither is joel.

a/n: tried something kinda new with this chapter. Been feeling like my writing as a whole lowkey gives bare bones considering all my edits and things i cut out so i tried to keep most of my ideas, just refined them more. ~ THIS SYMBOL REPRESENTS POV CHANGE. Really trying to rein in the idea that they’re fucking terrible at communicating and they interpret situations differently (but differently in such a similar way). If yall liked this please lmk. and dont worry things will get better in the next chapter (i already have half of it written).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I did good, didn’t I?” What the fuck. “What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair. “She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.” “You invited her?” you ask, your voice small. “Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

“Are you serious?” you almost want to hit Joel upside the head.

He just nods, raising his beer to you and chugging down a good portion of it.

“God. You’re kidding, right?” You turn back to Tommy.

“Sorry, baby. Dead serious.”

“Jesus,” you shake your head, tipping back the remainder of your second drink.

Tommy’s birthday. On Sunday. As in like, two days from now, and you had no clue, not until this very moment, the two brothers staring back at you like they don’t see the issue with this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“‘M tellin’ you now?” Tommy laughs. You shove him playfully.

“Well, we have to throw you a party,” you announce, shaking your head at the thought that maybe, if Joel didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have known about Tommy’s birthday at all.

“No, I don’t think —”

“No excuses,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a shy smile. “Joel and I will take care of it. Right?” you look over at him, but he stares back with wide eyes.

He stutters out words, trying to give an excuse, but doesn’t get very far.

“Joel and I will throw you a party,” you say, giving Joel a teasing look. “You gotta up my pay, Miller.”

“In your dreams, I pay you plenty. And Sarah’s an angel — I’m basically paying you to sit around and hang out.”

“‘S hard work,” you chuckle, the boys laugh. “Can we use your backyard, Joel?”

“Why.”

“You have a pool…and a barbecue…and a lawn.”

“Jesus. ‘S like y’all don’t own houses.”

“Great! Party at Joel’s,” you smile at him, teasing almost — flirting. But you reel it in at Tommy’s voice.

They start talking about something regarding the current state of Joel’s backyard and you get lost in the conversation, itching to approach the bar and get another drink.

Your phone buzzes, it’s Olivia calling. You excuse yourself and make a quick break outside.

“Hello?”

Hey babe, so how’s it going? Am I interrupting anything??

You roll your eyes.

“Liv, c’mon. Tommy is here with us,” you say into the phone, peering back at the brothers perched on a high table through the window.

Ugh. Fucking buzzkill. So you’re not gonna make a move tonight?

“Jesus. No — no.”

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.

“If I get some alone time with him then maybe we’ll — talk about it. I guess…” you look back to them again. Joel’s eyes catch yours and you turn around quickly.

“I dunno though. Tommy’s being clingy.”

He’s always clingy. Sneak Joel into the bathroom, maybe y'all can go for round two.

“Liv!” you chastise, your cheeks heat at the thought.

Keep me posted. And have fun, girl.

“I will, thanks. Love you, bye.”

Love you, bye.

You hang up, rubbing your hands on your upper arms to shield yourself from the cold. You need another drink desperately.

You walk back in. The roaring crowd meets your ears immediately. Dim string lights and a couple shots in and things had been going — good.

Relatively good. The best you could hope for out of your Friday night out with the boys.

Joel isn’t being an ass and Tommy is relatively chill so things have been good. It’s fun being out with them. Especially when Tommy might be too distracted by the crowd to see you staring at Joel — the way his biceps stretch the cotton of his t-shirt. The way his lips curl around his glass. The glint in his eyes when he laughs. And you know for certain, Tommy doesn’t notice Joel’s hand resting on your thigh for a couple, fleeting seconds every so often.

You approach the bar and ask for another drink. You’re not sure where you stand with Joel, you two haven’t been afforded much alone time since the phone call. But things might finally feel good. Especially between the brothers.

Maybe it had been way too good — way too calm — because something always had to fuck everything up — and this was that moment.

A long legged blonde walks through the double doors like a scene out of a movie. Somewhere deep down in the teenage part of your psyche, you want to say her clothes are ill-fitting, her lipstick — a garish shade of mauve, her hair — coarse and utterly damaged. But it’s not. She’s none of those things.

She's perfect.

It's been two days since the incident on the phone. Joel and Tommy have been sort of MIA with a big part of their project — coming back home late, when Sarah’s already asleep. You got your car fixed (all on your own) so you leave them with some leftovers on the table as soon as they get back.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Joel had said when you pointed out the food on the table last night. You recall everyone’s eyes widening, the pet name slipping from his lips with ease. It sounded like butter to your ears — fighting the urge to smile a mile wide and kiss him like you’ve been begging to do since the day you met. But you knew Tommy noticed, you all noticed. Joel brushed it off with a cough, saying something about how it had been a particularly rough day.

Tommy didn’t say much about it. But he wasn’t acting strange which was good. Even tonight, he’s still acting himself — it’s a bit of a relief.

Even now, when surprisingly, Tommy stands and greets the woman, pulling her into a hug. Joel stands too, though he looks a bit confused.

You stare at them from the bar, Tommy says something to Joel, obviously introducing the blonde to him. Joel’s face contorts into recognition at the name, maybe Tommy has mentioned her before.

You don’t even notice the bartender placing your drink down in front of you, abandoning it and beelining towards them. The drink sweats on the bartop, alone. Forgotten.

“Why don’t you go with Joel?” Tommy says, ushering her towards Joel’s side. “Grab her a drink?”

You look up at Joel in passing, the blonde on his other side, you try to keep your face normal, but a look slithers onto your brow. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say.

What the fuck?

His eyes scrunch for a half second, saying, I don’t know, either and stalks away with the blonde. You watch them leave, but Tommy’s voice snaps you out of your trance, a heavy arm braces itself over your shoulder as you both watch them approach the bar.

“I did good, didn’t I?”

What the fuck.

“What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair.

“She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.”

“You invited her?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

Joel looks — you don’t really know what he looks like. He doesn’t look completely uninterested, but you can spot the glint in his eye a million miles away. And when he lacks it too, like right now.

But maybe you like to imagine what his eyes look like — just for you. How you can feel his glances from across a room, how his eyes meet yours through a crowded bar and never let go. Like a string attaches your irises and pulls you, locked together, forever.

It doesn’t seem like he’s looking at her like that but you’re beginning to realize you know nothing of what these boys might do.

It’s not like Joel owes you anything in this moment — and you’re not asking him. You know what he has to do to save both of your asses from Tommy’s precise, unwavering eyes, and he’s doing it. He’s strong — but you’re not sure if you’ve got that kind of fight in you. To let him go, with wandering eyes and wandering, delicate fingers braced all over his body. Maybe this is how he feels — no — now you’re certain your feelings match Joel’s in those fleeting moments when he catches you with Tommy.

It leaves you feeling sick. Guilty? Sure. Sad? Oh, definitely.

Jealous? Yeah. That one.

Even if it might be unrightfully so. But you keep it down the best you can.

“You think they look good together?” Tommy says from the table now. You don’t remember him moving.

“Yeah,” you reply in a soft voice.

He clears his throat when you stare at them for too long.

“Yeah,” you say again, louder, when you turn to him. He smiles back.

“‘S what I thought, too.” he throws some trail mix into his mouth. “Think she might be good for him.”

“Good for him,” you echo, absentmindedly. The only thing you can think about — and look at, for that matter — is the way her manicured fingers brush over his arm, and how he doesn’t push them away.

Good for him.

She seems good for him. Maybe all he needs is a bobbing blonde bimbo in his life. Something to brighten up his day. You thought you were good for him. Thought you were good for his life. Thought you were good for everyone.

But when he laughs a bit — you can’t help but wonder: what do you think you know anymore?

“You alright?”

You snap your head to Tommy again.

You feel like crying but you bite back the desperate tears.

“Yeah,” you say, the feeling in your throat rising with your reply, and even more so with the next. “‘M fine.”

You watch the bartender set a drink down in front of the unnamed woman and she accepts it graciously. The pair begins to walk back, she’s close to Joel’s side. You bite your tongue, whipping out your phone instead to sneak Olivia a sad, solemn text.

You look down, the tears pooling to the front of your eye, momentarily blurring your vision like someone just released a flash bomb in the bar — maybe an ambush — this certainly feels like one.

You can’t really read the legibility of your writing, knowing it's littered with typos, your thumbs moving faster than your mind — saying something about a woman and Joel and almost regrettably because of how in the moment you are right now — how fucking stupid Tommy Miller is — even though you know this is far from his fault.

The pair stands before you. The woman smiles down at you — your body failing to stand until Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, ushering you up to your feet.

Why is everything coming out of Tommy’s mouth muffled to your ears?

Maybe Joel can see the unshed tears in your eyes, but he stops the introduction on its head — the pity clear in his voice. That you can hear. The honey-rich, southern — homey — sound of his drawl punching through the sound barrier of stupid teenage hurt feelings and childish jealousy wrapped around you like a blanket—

“You alright, sweetheart?”

There it is again. That fucking pet name that holds you in a vice grip, sends shooting electricity down your spine, makes you want to scream out to the entire bar — please — please. Just stop this bullshit, end it. Press rewind to five minutes ago when things seemed to be going good and make this — fucking please — make this stop.

But you don’t say that. The tears recede at his voice, you smile up at him like a scene rehearsed and then back to the blonde. She stares at you, her brow a bit cocked and at his words — you know this is far from the acting normal you and Joel unspokenly try to adhere to. Even in the worst circumstances — like this one.

“Yeah,” you brush him off quickly, he moves to speak but you cut him off, a surprisingly cool tone braced on your lips.

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, taking her hand, telling her your name. “Tommy said you’re his neighbor?”

“Yeah that’s right,” she laughs. “Quite the handyman.”

“I try my best,” Tommy jests from beside you. She laughs.

“Caroline,” she finishes with, dropping your hand. You smile back.

She’s pretty, and nice, and fucking funny and you want to be so fucking mean to her because she’s got her hands all over Joel and she’s insanely gorgeous but you know better. You like to think you're far from your teenage years — even if you feel like you’re drowning in your numbers.

You can see her better in this light.

A lump in your throat forms because what’s even worse than her being pretty is that she looks older.

More like Tommy — more like Joel.

More age appropriate.

Less like you.

“So what do you do?” Caroline says as you all sit.

“Oh. I’m Joel’s nanny—” you stifle an awkward laugh. You’ve never said that out loud.

“Joel needs a nanny?” she bites back with a witty smirk on her face. Everyone laughs.

“I’m Sarah’s babysitter, just got my bachelors in May though,” you laugh back. She nods.

“What did you study?”

“English.”

“Ah. English. Remember those days.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a journalist. Work for some company no one cares about, blah blah blah. You get it,” she says, sipping on her drink.

Great. Journalist.

“Do you like it?” Tommy asks from beside you. You get lost in her words, not really hearing anything besides how she's better and farther along in a similar field as you.

You mumble something to Tommy about how you need another drink, hopping to the bar when everyone settles into the conversation.

Like clockwork, you can feel Joel’s eyes on you, tracking you across the bar and when you slip further into the crowd.

You push through to get to the bathroom but when you arrive, you freeze.

How could you be so stupid?

You’re surprised the door to that bathroom doesn’t show your fingerprints and scratch marks from the other side. You remember it being nicer than it currently stands before you. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the thought. Everything seems to fade when you think about that night — when you think about how Joel makes you feel.

But you can’t go back in. That would be setting yourself up for the ultimate failure. Disqualifying you from the race because of a faulty start.

You push into the next bathroom, some ways down the small hallway.

The door shuts behind you, a rumbling tune plays through the walls of the bathroom, shaking the mirror and ruining the look you try to get at yourself. You can almost see the fatal flaw written on your face through the rippling glass: the thought that this would ever work out between you and Joel.

The woman beside Joel keeps touching him.

It’s not that it bothers him, particularly. It’s just that he can feel her wanting need pulse off her body like a fire alarm. The thought that he might look her way now is comical. Especially when you slip towards the bathroom. The same fucking bathroom all those weeks ago. Like it’s been sitting here waiting for the two of you to get inside and let hell break loose.

But it stares at Joel and bites back with teeth and fangs when you slip inside. Normally a smirk or even a wide smile would be wedged on his face from the implication. Follow me inside, tell me what you’re thinking with your actions, not words. Pin me up against the wall, let me say your name. Let me tell you I’m yours. But everything about right now screams the opposite of That Night.

It’s different this time. Instead, he can feel the sadness at your greeting and the look in your eye that followed.

Tommy is such a fucking idiot.

Joel’s always known there was a temper on Tommy since they were young. And there has always been that godforsaken sibling rivalry because Tommy turned out to be a good man. And as Joel reasons with himself — maybe Tommy is a better man than he is because all Joel wants to do is follow you into the bathroom, see if you’re alright, ask you to forget about this nonsense and just stay with him. Don’t let this push you to Tommy. Don’t let this ruin everything that’s been building.

Maybe that makes him a bad man for wanting. But maybe it also makes him a good man for not following through.

He can’t even drink anymore. The light beers are clearing from his head, but honestly, he was dead sober at the sight of you with unshed tears in your eyes.

But when you emerge from the bathroom like nothing is wrong, Joel falters. He isn’t sure what to do when you request a drink from the bar — and he isn’t sure what to do when it turns out to be a shot, you down it in one gulp and don’t ask for a chaser.

Maybe you want it to hurt.

It’s the first indication that something — anything — is wrong. And Joel would wager a million on what that something is.

Joel thought it had been clear the night of the dinner at his house. He thought his silent words snuck into Tommy’s brain enough to send a clear signal. Back off, dude.

But apparently it didn’t. Because this woman is sitting next to him, and her hand rests on his knee now. And she keeps snaking her fingers through to rest on his bicep. And he’s just about had enough.

“You should come. Right, Joel?”

“Huh,” he pushes out, looking back to his brother.

“To my party?”

It’s almost like Tommy is pleading with him. And he’s not sure what to say. Of course he doesn’t want her to come. But it’s Tommy’s party and the kick under the table from Tommy’s boot forces the words out of his mouth even though he wants to say the opposite.

“Yeah, sure.”

Tommy gives him a look. Joel knows this woman — Caroline — is nice. Hell, she might’ve even caught his eye if he wasn’t worshiping the ground you walk on. Maybe Tommy knew that too, and that’s why he invited her. She seems nice, and funny, but Joel can’t get you off his mind. The thought of you — like a bee who won’t quit buzzing around a flower.

“Need some water. Y’all want anythin’?”

They shake their heads and give their thanks but Joel wasn’t really paying much attention to them anyways. He can only look around the bar and see an apparent lack of your figure — anywhere.

He stands and searches for you, only to see your figure in a flash, walking towards the entrance. He catches your arm and you turn to him, a feigned, sad smile appears on your face.

Jesus.

You can’t even look him in the eyes — hold the unbreaking eye contact he made a mental note of when you two first met.

“What a’you doin’?” Joel asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

“Need some air,” you say.

Joel follows you wordlessly. He doesn’t care if his date or his brother sees him walk you out. It’s nothing to hide from. You guys are — friends.

The cool air hits his skin. He sees that you’re cold, but doesn’t want to hold you against him like he desperately needs to — at the implication that maybe you’d turn him down. Or worse, push him away.

“So…a party,” Joel starts with, grimacing internally at his chosen words.

“Yeah — if you don’t wanna help, you don’t have to. I was just joking in ther—”

Joel cuts you off. It hurts a bit — the thought that you think he wouldn’t want to help you.

“I do — wanna help.”

You smile shyly.

“Pick me up tomorrow? We’ll go shopping.”

“Be there at four, Sarah's goin’ to a friend’s for dinner and a sleepover.”

“She’s got more social battery than me,” you chuckle, looking back into the bar.

“You ‘n me combined — maybe she got it from Tommy.”

“Maybe,” you echo.

Suddenly, the air feels less playful.

“I didn’t know,” Joel starts with because he doesn’t know what else to say. His words make you laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. All he wants is you.

“I know —” another laugh, but he knows you think none of this is funny. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Is it just him or is the glint in your eyes gone?

“No, I…Jesus. Tommy just — fuckin’ — I don’t know her, I — know of her. But I didn’t tell him I wanted to meet her.”

“Joel,” you say, your voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay. He can see that much displayed on your face.

“She seems nice,” you note. His brows furrow because he can tell you’re being genuine. Why does it seem like you want him to admit it too?

“C’mon,” he says, a harsh chuckle in the form of a crisp breath escapes his mouth, pleading with you—

Stop this.

“What do you want me to say?” you whisper, breathless. He stares back at you like he doesn’t know what could possibly be running through your head. You need him to say his truth now. Or honestly? You’re not sure it’ll ever come out and you’ll be left behind forever.

“Anythin’ but that,” he breathes, the air puffs cold around your face.

You want to speak but nothing comes out. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your thin top. He looks unmoving and warm. But he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Why isn’t he holding you?

“Well she does,” his brows cock at your words. “Seem nice.”

“I don’t like her. I —”

I like you. I want you. I need you.

It’s on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he’s about to confess and the dam holding all your feelings from the last month will break through. But he’s searching for the words — and that’s when you know. Because he shouldn’t be searching for anything. Not when it comes so easy to you. Not when what he makes you feel is threatening to spill from your lips at every chance you get. He shouldn’t be searching for the right things to say when you can think of a million possibilities.

He steps forward, grabbing your hand in his. His fingers play with yours as you wait with bated breath. Waiting for the —

Be with me, stay with me. Forget about them. Forget about everything. I just need you.

You hold out for one last moment. Maybe he can’t articulate his feelings as well as they ring true in his mind.

You step back a bit, moving to turn, moving to open your body as a silent invitation for him to follow you. Your fingers pull on his a bit towards your direction, pulling him, propelling him towards what you want him to say. But he doesn’t say those words. Instead—

“Where are you goin’?”

Your hand holding his fingers pulls slightly again. A life raft. A beacon of hope. The last twinge that you have to offer him so he can finally break down his walls and be with you.

Because that’s all you want. You just want him.

“Home.”

You say it. It might be the first time since Caroline walked through the doors that he’s looked into your eyes. You’re pleading with him. With every ounce in your body. Just fucking say it.

It's a silent invitation, you ask him with your eyes. And with the fingers pulling at his.

Come with me. To my house, to my bed. Stay with me. Come with me. Leave them behind, and stay the night, stay till the next night too. Forget about the blonde laughing at Tommy’s jokes. Hell, forget about Tommy. Just fucking ditch this hell hole and take me home. And come with me and don’t ever leave.

Please.

But it seems like you both don’t talk as well with your eyes as you thought. And it seems like you don’t know this man in front of you at all.

Because he steps back a bit, nodding, dropping your reaching fingers, and says those fatal words that solidify your fatal flaw.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

Joel arrives at Caroline’s house. She somehow convinced him to drop her off at home. She keeps insisting Joel come in for a night cap. But he’s too fucking sad and pissed to even consider speaking to her for another two minutes longer.

His head pounds. But not from the alcohol, from the quiet heartbreak settling in his chest at the memory of your words. At everything that had happened that night. It was meant to be a fun evening. But when he left you outside the bar, and ran to fetch Tommy, he knew this would go down in one of his most regrettable moments. And his most sad, too.

Home.

The word rings in Joel’s ears. But you looked so fucking sad and you were already moving away from him. He had failed to say what he really meant to say — I want you. I just need you.

Maybe that truly was the end and maybe he failed to say what he thought and it turned you off. Made him unwanted in your eyes.

Solidified the fact that he might never be a good man.

Not like Tommy.

But you were turning away — your fingers hanging onto his because he was the one who grabbed your hand first, and pulled you towards him with his fingers, his eyes, with his body — desperately.

You kept pulling away — pulled away with sad eyes and he desperately wanted you to stay but he couldn’t make you do anything. Not when you look like that and you sound equally sad and broken.

So he thought of what you deserve. Maybe even what you wanted at that moment.

He finally dropped your hands, the warm spots your fingers held — were trapped under, brushed against the cold and Joel shivered.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

He said it, but didn’t want to act on his words. He wanted to be the one to drive you home and to slip into your house, then maybe into your bed after that.

But he wasn’t — you didn't want him to.

He was sitting in the truck outside Caroline’s house as she pulls all her best tricks to get him to come inside.

But he brushes them all off, and drives back in silence until he slumps in bed.

“Fuckin’ — sit up, Jesus,” Tommy says, pulling your body upright in the passenger seat of the truck.

You grumble with him.

“‘M fine laying down. Stop micromanaging me.”

You’re drunk.

The shot you took before talking to Joel outside the bar was beginning to take root. And all the other shots after that, when Tommy ushered you in to grab one last drink, and you just happened to down three more before leaving.

“‘M not — mircomana— you’re a fuckin’ piece of work.”

You smile lazily at him.

“Like you aren’t?”

He laughs back.

There's a tense silence after Joel’s name pops up on Tommy’s phone that sits comfortably on the center dash.

Tommy speaks first.

“What’d you and Joel talk about?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say, his head twitching a bit at your too-broad, overarching answer. “Your party,” you say when you think he might pry too much.

“Joel isn’t gonna help you with that, you know.”

His words make you freeze. Joel actually was going to help — or was supposed to before the shit show outside the bar.

“We’ll see. Can do it on my own too, though.”

“Thanks again for offering, I — I know it’s dumb.”

“‘S not dumb. ‘N I wanted to do it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Well thanks anyways.”

You hum in response, looking out the window into darkness.

“What’d you think of Joel’s date?”

Your eyes widen and suddenly, you don’t feel as drunk, sitting up a bit at his question.

“That’s what it was? A date?” you say with a nervous chuckle.

“I guess,” he laughs. “Don’t know what else to call it.”

“She’s nice,” you say, echoing your words to Joel. Somewhere in the back of your mind you note how that sends a pang to your chest.

“I don’t know if he was interested,” Tommy notes.

That doesn’t really give you as much relief as you would’ve hoped for. You’re not hurt because of Caroline. You’re hurt because of everything that happened after. When you tried to get him to take you home, and he pulled away.

Tommy continues when you don’t respond.

“Took her home though.”

Now that sends a shooting throb to your heart.

Like it’s saying Of course he did. Even though that doesn’t seem very much like Joel at all.

“Really?”

“Yup. ‘N I think she’s comin’ to the party. Seemed excited ‘bout it.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. You’re sure that’s not helping your case when trying to be indifferent about Joel’s dating life.

Tommy pulls up to your driveway.

Tense silence follows after he puts the truck in park.

“Is that — like — an issue?”

Your heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“No, why would it be?”

“Just wonderin’,” he says with a sigh.

“Is it an issue for you?”

“No. Think she’s good for him.”

There it is again.

Good for him.

Are you not good for him?

You brush it off quickly, moving to unlatch your seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, but Tommy’s hand reaches out and stops your movements. You tentatively look up, scared of what might be looking back. He looks a bit pained, or maybe scared — though his hardened brow doesn’t give much emotion.

“I had fun tonight — you looked — look good,” he says, pulling you a little closer, he’s starting to dip his head ever so slightly. If you weren’t paying him so much attention you might not have even noticed his movements.

You don’t pull away.

That would be the end of everything with your friendship. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t terrified — apparently the look is clearly etched on your face.

He laughs a bit suddenly, pulling away.

“Jesus.”

“What – what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I —” he pauses for a long time.

You’re scared of what he might say.

“Can I…can I take you out? Like — just the two of us?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. You force yourself to breathe, a couple short puffs of air slip past your lips.

“Oh, I — like you want to go out for food?”

“Food,” he huffs out a short breath mixed with a chuckle. It makes your breath hitch, the uncertainty and knowing he’s acting so strange right now.

“No, like — like a date. I guess.”

chapter v. just you

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

@sofiparallel @akah565 @going-to-californiaxx @gintheginger @defnotashifter @missgurrl @daddy-din @earthtogrogu @rooney-verse @ratoonstown @skysmiller @pedritosdarling @lovely-ateez @pluzo @spongebobspooploop

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tsunamistorm123 @awhoreforalotofshows @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @violinchick @rhoorl @yoongjennie88 @rainbowcosmicchaos @akah565 @pedropascalissofine @purplemechanics @suzmagine @untamedheart81 @hellaradd @josephine1837 @noisynightmarepoetry @lawh0re

@joelsversion @hellaradd @vanillen @brujitafantomatico @cartoon-garbage04 @jpbplvr @whattownheadshake @beccerjune @pedrotonin @sen-mirjahaal @awesomebunnyqueen @bluetattoos @sunnysaphira @vickywallace @bbyanarchist @gossipgirl-03 @casa-boiardi

366 notes · View notes

umeoniii · 1 year

Note

Hii! I was thinking female reader x Hange Zoe smut! Maybe reader is jealous and upset with hange seeming so invested in Pieck (you know cuz she's the cart titan). Hange starts to notice reader acting upset which leads to comfort sex. I dunno something cute and smutty

jealous reader & hange

(｀_´)ゞ

you sat alone in the courtyard watching the sunset, picking at your food. steak rice and water, the same thing as usual. you sat and thought, what drove me here? sitting alone with nothing but anger bubbling in my chest?

usually you’d be sitting with hange, listening to her ramble while you ate and nodded. a shiver ran through your body as the warm summer breeze went through you, bringing a few small flower petals aside your foot. you listened to the nighttime cicadas coming to life.

you were jealous, jealous of your lover’s friend, pieck. you didn’t trust their relationship, you were fine with hange having friends, but pieck made you feel something else. possessiveness. you weren’t possessive, or at least you thought you weren’t.

it’s been quite a while since hange and peick have been friends. about 3 months to be exact, it’s been 3 months since you’ve watched from afar with jealousy. you knew it was horrible for you to be jealous and to not have trust in hange but you couldn’t help it.

pieck had something that you didn’t have and that’s what hange liked about her. you’d watch how her face would light up when talking to her. you couldn’t help but think what would you have to do for her to appreciate you more, because you weren’t gonna just let this pass by like absolutely nothing. you’d wake up earlier to have an early start on looking even better, maybe that would’ve gotten her attention.

you’d wear your hair different ways , try to wear more pleasant clothes, you had even tried a little bit of makeup. there were times you’d even try to appear more provocative around hange. shoving your tits in her face or getting on all fours to pick something up, hoping she’d stare at your ass. she noticed it and would compliment you, but not in the way you wanted her to.

you started to become more jealous and bitter over it. you always told yourself that if hange wanted pieck that she would’ve already left you, so you were safe. but you still couldn’t help but hate her.

you’d look in your mirror before bed, mumbling and laughing to yourself “she’s not better than me, i have a whole lot more than her. im so much more desirable.” you’d then put your silky pink night gown on and go to sleep. sometimes crying yourself to slumber because of how much it pissed you off.

one day things were different though. the first time you saw them get super close, and most certainly the last. hange got super close to her, pulling her into a tight hug, jumping up and down.

you walked up with a smile inquiring about why she and pieck were so close like that.

“ive been begging her for weeks to let me experiment on her and the titan and she finally gave in! well kinda…” she smiled cheekily

she genuinely sounded so happy about it, you weren’t though.

you scanned them up and down with your eyes before turning around walking away. your finger nails digging into the flesh of your palm, fist clenching from the pure abhorrence.

that night hange came into your room, sitting next to you while you were laying down. she saw you were wearing another one of those lacy night gowns she knew you loved a lot. this one hugged your curves just the right way, it was a v neck as well, she stared at your cleavage while you were lying down.

she rubbed the side of your upper thigh “hey honey.”

“im not in the mood, go back to work.” you sighed turning around towards the opposite way of hange.

she slid her hands under the silk fabric rubbing your ass, “just what do i have to do to get under those cute panties.” she whispered

��stop talking to her.” you responded bluntly

you can feel her shocked face burning holes into your back.

“you know i can’t do that, she’s very vital to my studies.”

“then get out. m’ not gonna ask you again.”

you felt the weight of the bed lessen as she respected your wish and got off your bed.

you heard the door open and close as she took her exit.

and everyday after that you gave hange more of a slight attitude.

“look at what i read about today, isn’t it weird?”

“yup.” you looked away

“i found this for you at the store, do you like it?”

“it’s great” you say, not paying attention at all to the conflicting colors on the dress.

she noticed the complete change in your demeanor and assumed it might’ve still been because of pieck, so she tested the theory.

“i found this at the store, do you think pieck would like it?”

you turned from your vanity to look at the dress, it was very revealing. it was cute a pink, frilly, skimpy little dress. it pissed you off that she wanted her to wear something so… revealing. and you knew that she knew the dress was something of your fondness and that’s exactly why she asked.

and her theory was proven correct , because after you took in the view of the dress you turned around and threw your lipstick at her.

“the fucks wrong with you!? i was so right, you do have something for her! you probably have weird little fantasies about having sex with her titan or some shit! you might as well fuck her with how you’ve been acting! get out!” you yelled.

“ y/n hun, it’s not like that, you know i love you more than titans or anything im interested in, i put you before anything.” she stood up looking at you.

“oh my god, get. out.” you pushed her through the door and slammed it.

you heard her voice muffled through the oak door, “you know what, stay in there and cry about it. im not working myself up with your crazy little delusions.” she walked off

you sat back on your bed, you didn’t want hange to be right but you felt your lip tremble as your nails digged into your thighs. tears ran down your cheek as you tried not to think too hard about it. once again, you cried yourself to sleep. all i’ve done is sat and been pretty for her, all for her to get mad at me.

you woke up to the rhythm of knocks on your door. your head turned and you sat up as you saw your door open, hange walked in with a expressionless face. she walked and sat on the bed next to you.

“you’re not seriously jealous of her though, are you? you don’t actually believe i’d ever leave you if i had the choice? you’re the only woman i want to be with. i wouldn’t chose another woman over you on even my darkest of days.” she said rubbing your thigh with her palm.

you sniffled as she wiped the tears off your cheeks.

“you’re better than that y/n, you’re so-”

“you seem to enjoy yourself more around her.” you scoffed

“well im sorry that i get excited about that kinda stuff, but you still know i love you.” she picked up your face, your doe eyes glimmering from the still wet tears inside of your eyes.

she brought your lips closer to hers.

“tell me though y/n, do you think the things that i do to you pieck will never get to experience?”

you shook your head

“that’s what i thought.” her soft lips drifted over the goosebumps on your neck before biting your neck, sucking on your supple skin.

you let out a soft yelp clawing at her clothed back.

she nipped and sucked at you skin undressing you slowly and whispering sweet praises into your ear.

“i’ll never love anyone else like this.” she said, her fingers drifting to your panties. you stifle your moan, pushing her hand away.

she looks up at you through her glasses, pulling you hand away forcefully and bringing your underwear down.

“god you’ve been such a brat y/n, im just trying to show you how much i really do appreciate and love you.” she whispered softly into your ear.

she opened you legs staring at your glistening cunt kissing and licking at you.

“you’re so beautiful.” she speaks in between laps, “i love you so much.” her tongue flicks against your hardened bud as she shook her head in between your thighs, gripping them as though she were holding onto a cliff in which she was hanging off of. her tongue slipped inside of your hole, licking at the ridges and wetness brewing deep inside of you.

“i want you to sit on my face baby.” she muffled inside of you, vibrations in your cunt causing you to whimper and squeeze her head with your thighs.

“huh?” you looked at her tears clouding your vision.

she unlatched her mouth from your pussy, “ i said i want you on my face.” she layed on your soft duvet laying her head back onto the pillow. you turned your body and sat onto hange’s face not giving her a chance to breathe.

she started lapping vigorously at your sweet cunt nibbling on your folds. then she went back to sucking on your hardened clit.

god, hange loved having you atop her face. she loved staring down your body, listening to your whines and whimpers as she gave you princess treatment.

you placed your hands onto her shoulders riding her face as her tongue stuffed you and her nose bumped against your clit. the friction was a lot, your brain even foggier from the pleasure. you couldn’t even remember why you were on top of hange practically screaming her name.

hange’s brown hair was in between your fingers while you whimpered her name “oh god hange fuck” you mewled looking at her looking up at you. she drifted her hands up your gown pinching at your nipples.

you gasped from the feeling, eyes shut tight. you felt her mumbling into your cunt, probably about how much she cherished you. you felt how her thumb started to rub your bud faster, and how her tongue got thrusted and rubbed faster. you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm going faster. you looked down at hange who was looking up at you

“ m’ gonna cum han’ ” you whimpered gripping her hair tighter.

she gave you a a little nod setting you over edge as you came inside of her mouth. hange slurped up your cum, eating it like it was honey. you leaned forward catching your breath while hange slowly moved her face up from your cunt. she gasped for breath, “ i don’t love pieck like this, i would never eat her pussy and swallow her cum like i do you.” she kissed the inside of your thigh and the valley between your breasts.

“i… love… you too” you panted

her pretty lips pecked your cheeks, “ i won’t ever make you feel unappreciated again.” she layed her head in the crook of your neck.

a/n: i got a little bit carried away… i hope u love it though! sorry it took a lil bit long

858 notes · View notes

pettydollie · 2 months

Text

♡.˚ ୨୧ ｡˚ ♡.˚ wild - m.s

summary: you leave your boyfriend to go on a hiking trip. you- on a hiking trip. this leads to matt thinking you're gonna leave him.

warnings/notes: lowercase intended, matt's pov (i suck at first person so i apologize), guys this is literally the scene from "gilmore girls: a year in the life", NOT PROOF READ, cursing wc: 1.6k

*this story is told from matt's pov :)*

5 years. thats how long ive been with my girl, yn, and i wouldnt have it any other way. life is great, fabulous even! im incredibly happy. i thought she was too- that was until sunday afternoon.

i sit in the kitchen, signing cards for our 6 million merch. i let out a small smile just thinking about the milestone. yn walks in wearing her puffer coat. she plops a large backpack next to her on the floor. i look up from the table. things have been weird these last few days, to say the least. she was becoming.. distant? it's just weird because "distant" is never a word i'd use to describe our relationship. but we have never ever felt so apart.

"hey." i take off my headphones, looking up and down at her attire and the bag by her side. she takes in a deep breath. "im going away." she states bluntly. she bites her lip gently, clearly waiting for my response.

i stare directly at her while her eyes wander off in the distance. blinking before dryly chuckling, i respond,“whaddya mean? you’re leaving?” i drop my sharpie onto the table, turning my body to give her my full attention.

"i'll be gone a while. probably like a couple of weeks." she stands nervously, twiddling with her fingers like a child being scolded though matt feels as if he's the kid. a look of concern draws itself over my face. "baby, what is this? what's going on?" she doesn't answer for a moment. instead she takes in a breath.

“i’m gonna do Wild.” she states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. i almost want to laugh. this has got to be a joke. “w- huh?” i sputter, rubbing my temples. she repeats, "Wild." i pause, thinking. then it hits me, "ohh you mean the movie?"

"the book. the movie took liberties, the book is pure, so.. book." she nods, finally deciding to drop her hands at her side. i guess my face still has that weird confused look because she emphasizes, "i'm going to the place. the pacific crest trail. and i'm going to walk it." i snort, even though i tried not to. "you mean hike?" i correct and she simply rolls her eyes. "are you serious? that trail's 2,000 miles long!" i stand up while using my hands to speak.

she grins, "i'm not doing the whole thing, silly."

i began to list all the factors of nature, her muttering an “i know” after every one. “bu- it's a trail“ “i know” “it's outdoors.. in nature.” “i know” “there's dirt, bugs, animals!” “mosquitoes, rivers” "i know" "you have to carry your own backpack! by yourself." "i know"

it pauses while i think of even more things she won't like. but then i remember, "you haveta sleep on the ground. the dirty ground, sweetheart." "i know." "you cook your own food" "i know" "you boil your own water" "i know" "you get your water from a stream" "i know" "that's in nature!"

"i know, matt. i know what's out there." she sadly smiles, beginning to fidget with her fingers again. "wow.. so. you're still gonna go? you're not joking?" my voice cracks. she shakes her head. i sigh and sit back down to bounce my leg under the table. "why?"

tears well up in her eyes. she's holding them from falling, standing her ground. "because.. i need to. it's now or never." she whispers, concluding the conversation before grabbing her backpack and walking out, leaving me alone and bewildered.

"god, who cares?!" i snap at my younger triplet, chris. it's been a week without my yn and i'm dyin. i dunno what's going on and i'm sick of it- sick of everything. chris sits down next to me, snatching my phone that was previously in my hands and throwing it on the couch. i groan, dropping my head onto the table. "jesus, man, what's going on?" he nudges my shoulder.

"it's yn. she's doin' wild."

"the movie or the book?" chris answers and i scoff. "what?? they're two different experiences." he tries to reason, but i just give it up. "the book. yknow, i jus-- i can't understand why. she's doing wild. she just left and bought some hiking boots."

"cute hiking boots?" chris chuckles. that cracks a smile out of me. "nah, real hiking boots. that you can hike in. and she did this after, uh... well. it's uh been.. weird. i mean, my girl, y/n l/n decides to hike the pacific crest trail to figure some things out, what the fuck?"

it's quiet for seconds. chris' mouth forms a straight line. but i already know what he's thinking. after a defeated sigh, he mutters, "it sounds like she's leaving you."

two days after my conversation with chris, i stand in the kitchen feeding yn's puppy. i stroke his fluffy head with a sad frown on my face until i hear the door open. i stand up immediately with my eyes widened. there she is. yn walks in carrying her heavy backpack on one shoulder. "what're you doing here?" i ask, surprised. i take a step towards her but she lifts her free hand up in defense. "don't come near me!"

with my eyes still wide, i let out a "why?" and she walks further into the kitchen. "because.. i smell. every part of me smells. i didn't even hike! and i stink. i showered, even. and i came back home," she explains while dropping her backpack into one of the chairs. "i haven't even been near a cactus for hours and apparently all you have to do is simply think about hiking and boom, you smell."

i cut in, "you didn't hike?"

she shakes her head, not even looking disappointed. "nope, they wouldn't let me. i tried. i forgot things and.. whatever. i didn't hike. but the thing isss.!! i didn't go to hike. well, i did, but i just needed to figure something out. and i figured it out! which is great because-" she rambles and my eyes drift to the floor, knowing what's to come. i try to brace myself but i can't. i can't let her go.

she's still going on.. babbling about coffee and hills, but i couldn't take it anymore. "stop!" i yell out, holding both of my hands up. now it's her turn to be surprised as her eyes go big. "i know what you're doing, yn."

"you do?" she asks, sounding happy for some fucking reason.

"you're going to leave me! and i just have to tell you, it's a big mistake." i put it out there and her face drops. she shakes her head from side to side, her mouth opening. "wait- matt-" i interrupt her. "i've seen the signs, i've seen them coming for months. your bolting signs- yknow the distance and then suddenly you're doing Wild?? like seriously? hiking alone with nothing else to do? no music festival or hello kitty booth, just you and nature."

"i don't care what anybody says, space is never a good thing. there, i said it." i point my finger at her accusingly. she tries to butt in again, muttering, "matthew hold on-"

"no! we have been through too much together, you and i, okay? listen, i know things aren't perfect, i'm not perfect, and there's been some issues. i am not unhappy. i am not unsatisfied. you think i'm unhappy and unsatisfied, and i can't convince you that i'm not! i mean.. this.. right here-" i motion towards me and her, who is standing absolutely frozen. "-is all i will ever need. shit, i never even thought it would happen! and i thank my fucking lucky ass stars every day. i know i'm not the easiest guy in the world to build a life with and.. and share a house with, but there is no one who will be more here for you than me!

"i will never leave! i will never think about leaving. i will do whatever it takes to fix what's wrong. i'll- fuck- i'll go to a therapist or some shit, i'll quit youtube if that's what you want! i'll give you back the entire closet, i don't need it! i only took that half because you insisted i do.. i don't need it, take it."

she frowns. "i don't want it." "well it's yours, take it." "i don't need it!" "yes you do! you need it! you need the space and I NEED YOU. damn it, yn! we have been through so much. but we made it here! you can't leave, sweets, please." i completely break, raising my voice and expressing my deepest feelings without even hesitating.

all i can hear the cars honking outside for a good ten seconds. yn has tears gushing down her pretty face with the most beautiful smile spread across her lips. "matt.. i think we should get married."

oh. i furrow my eyebrows. "but.. i-i thought-" i cut myself off, fucking shut up. i run out of the room to a closet by the front door. i pull out the engagement i ring i bought a year ago, quickly dusting off anything on the velvet box before walking back into the kitchen. she lets out a small gasp, wiping the hot tears from her eyes. i grab her hand, kissing it softly. then i get down on one knee.

tags <3

@stargirlsturniololover @junnniiieee07 @mattsneezing @freshloveee @freshsturns @emma4eva @r6diosturns @matthasmywholeheart @donthugmeimhot @blahbel668

#𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓸 #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x fem reader

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caramelpenguin · 2 months

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S3 EP6 (thoughts + theories)

I want to get all the insane predictions out so I can look back on how much I clowned.🤡

These are ideas based on the moments that were in the trailer/teasers/stills. Or things that I feel might be addressed before the end...

Hillerska closing down🏫

We aren't directly told what Felice said in her interview. It's left ambiguous. So why wouldn't they tell us? Sure, there's a chance that she just praised the school but....

we got that very small snippet of the forest ridge boys yelling at each other. Could this be because they heard that Hillerska was going to shut down?

Simon (and his family) might move away 👋

they have the money now ig. this could be a reason why the ending, as ive seen around, has occasionally been described as 'open'.

this could be the context behind the shot of Linda's head on Simon's shoulder.

or maybe the 3 of them are doing smthn related to micke?

Abdication or King Wille? And August...👑

I think one of the reasons for August's storyline this season was for us to understand him more as a character so that if he becomes King, we know that he'll actually try or that he may not have been as bad as we thought. (my opinion of August isn't necessary here).

we really see how much the monarchy consumes Wille this season. Though I don't know how we'd approach the topic of abdication in just one episode.

wille has said that one of the reasons he wants to remain Crown Prince is bcos of Erik. Knowing what we now know, i'm intrigued as to what will happen.

will they acknowledge more of August's eating disorder?

August and Sara🤔

I think felice will (eventually) be fine with it. I don't know about Simon.

Things will work out, i'm sure.

Frederika and Stella💵

....they'll kiss in ep6. something will happen between them, anyway.

Shot of the 4 girls hugging

frederika has realises she likes stella by this point??

Roussea?🐎

maybe Roussea will get a slight mention in a conversation with August. Or maybe not. Who knowwwss

Wilmon screaming in the car🚗

is this Sara's car? things need to be okay by this point, right? is it after the lake scene??

Wilmon stare down👀

how? will ? this? fit? in?

is it after the graduation ceremony but before the neon party and the lake scene? does the shot of wille (with simon's hands around his neck) come after this?

is the lake scene not the final scene? is this scene actually the next day during the graduation?

does simon tell wille he's going to move away?

The Neon Party + Lake Scene 💧

the neon party is where they reconcile.

BUT i dont think it'll be a full reconcile. Simon's line 'Can't we just forget everything that's happened? Just for tonight?' makes sense to be here.

the lake scene with the swimming could happen because they both leave the party early, i dunno.

is this the last time they're able to hang out (bcos simon is moving away and bcos Hillerska will shut down)?

but we've all SEEN that it looks sad, which doesnt look all that great for endgame, and we've also been told that this is (most likely) the final scene. so. get tissues ready.

(am i crazy or is there a tiny smile on simons face in this scene? from that edmar promo we got? )

swimming happens after the sadness right? bcos (apart from the tears) they dont look wet.

if its the final scene idk what the hopes r for wilmon endgame icl

MUSIC (+Wille's birthday present)🎶

we know that 'Alice' by Rhys will play at some point. Doesn't mean it'll be a wilmon scene. it could be sara and august OR frederika and stella (?)

normally, there's a song in ep4 that's repeated in the final moments of the season. ep 4 in s3 doesn't end with a song and (from the one check I've done), i can't really hear any of the other songs used in that episode as the final song of the season. then again, i could be wrong

ELIAS SONG?? they could play 'revolution' again to make it a full circle (dont think this will happen tho). they might use a new song. i just rlly hope we'll hear an Elias song and...i feel like we will.

THE TRAILER SONG? I really pray this will be in the episode. I pray i pray i pray i-

we'll hear Simon's new song. I don't know how or when (especially if this is simon's gift to wille) but...c'mon

initially, i didn't think Redlight would appear in YR. Omar has a career outside of the show, but i do agree that the lyrics fit wilmon quite well. also, if we're gonna hear Simon's new song then I don't know how the script would work around Simon singing another song. He told Wille that his present isn't yet finished (which im sure is the song simon is currently working on), tho ig we could argue that he may sing a brand new song.

BUT then i realised that simon doesn't have to sing this song. redlight could just be part of the soundtrack ( it seems that everyone got to that conclusion before me). and the way that it's being promoted this week has me suspicious. I don't wanna get my hopes up, and maybe Omar is just being clever and promoting it during the week of YR hype, so i dont think redlight will be in s3. BUT I WILL BE VERY HAPPY IF IM WRONG❤️

ig we'll find out when the playlist gets updated

Football Field Scene

to my knowledge, we haven't got proof that they filmed there apart from that pic from Lisa (and are we sure this pic is from s3 filming?)

it would be AMAZING if they returned to this setting. ICONIC.

but idk how why they'd return here and how it would fit

it might not be a wilmon scene (could be simon + rosh + ayub, but i think theres a higher chance of it being a wilmon scene than the trio)

question- lisa said it was a wrap with a pic from the football field. which COULD mean that the last scene they filmed was there (tho it might not be the actual final scene) - was this where edmar couldn't stop crying?

💜WILMON ENDGAME?💜

they better or im going to riot

no but srsly, i dont think we'll go down a 'la la land' route. worst comes to worst, it'll be a positive open ending e.g. 'you were amazing. you'll be wonderful. we'll meet again with more freedom.' it'll be even better if there's a time skip here hahahha

like the end of ep5 gave me no hope cos idk how they're gonna get back together in one episode. but anything is possible.

arguably, the promo we've got since then leans towards endgame (?), but i dont think they'd reveal they're gonna be endgame if there wwen't gonna be more issues.

EXTRA

theres so much to cover in the final episode!! so i dont think everything will be acknowledged/addressed. things will be left ambiguous to keep the viewers thinking.

imagine if the break up at the end of ep5 wasnt that huge. that theyre still together (with tension) at the start of ep6, then they kidna ignore their disagreement. this culminates until the end, where they break up ( but very unlikely)

the future letters were there to show august's past. but could there be more to it? could we get a time skip? (again, unlikely imo. but would be sweet if done well)

a reference to the heart simon drew? maybe? probably not...

will simon give wille his orange jumper back? id love to see this on our screens but im sure we wont.

will sara's necklace make a comeback?

where does wille's 'what if I don't want to?' line come in? and the queen's line...

the shot of wille in the library (with that book in clear sight) hasn't yet appeared, right?

simon talking to sara by micke's house....hmmm. i would love a simon and micke interaction

volleyball scene + running into the lake happen as a connection to graduation?

wille with those sunglasses is a moment with felice?

do we hear anything more abt wille's birthday wish?

EXTRA .2

there are plenty of moments that happen that we don't see as viewers. so that jumper simon wears at the start of ep 2 looks like wille's. and if it is, then we didnt see the moment simon stole it wille gave it to him.

and when simon mentioned a mental health foundation, it implied that they may have had a discussion abt wille's anxiety before.

the piano scene in ep2 could have been a piano lesson that wille was giving simon, which probably means a lot more of these happened without us knowing

this makes me wonder how much wille knows about micke??

simon told august that sara's with her dad and all that- so does wille also know?

WHEN I FIRST WATCHED AND FINISHED S1 AND S2 OF YOUNG ROYALS, i knew wilmon would be together by the end of s3. like i was 100% convinced the show would end with them happy bcos that's what it had leaned towards the entire time. the vibe of it just screamed wilmon endgame to me.

i really hope past me was right, bcos the s3 promo really had me wondering. and then ep5 had me proper questioning. but netflix (and lisa) will have to pay for so much therapy if they arent endgame sooo🤷‍♀️

livelovelaugh wilmon ig

edit: ive just listened to omar's interview and now im qquuiiitteee sure redlight wont be in ep6🤷‍♀️

edit 2: will anyone else find out that it was august who posted the video?? will this prevent him from taking the throne??

#i might add to this before ep6 and the doc releases #and if ive missed smthn pls say and ill add it heh #LIVE LOVE LAUGH WILMON #wilmon #yr s3 spoilers #yr s3 #young royals #youngroyals #predictions

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guavagyu · 11 months

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you're mine, bunny - c.sb!

oh lord do i luv some sub!soobin <3

urgh this has literally been in my drafts since 12/22/22 (i promise ive just been powering thru it for the past few days)

this was unrequested! (still send requests pls 🙏)

wc: 2,220

synopsis: after discussing sex, you discover a new side of soobin, right before you go to a party, so you're riled up the entire night. plus, it seems that soobin can't keep his eyes off you, so when you both get home, stuff happens.

contents: smut (mdni), fluff, swearing, fem!reader, VERY posessive!reader, hardcore jealousy from reader, dom!reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, sub!soobin, mentions of yeonjun (sorry jun ily!), nicknames (whore, bunny, bun, binnie), established!relationship au, non-idol!au, handjob, choking, nipple play, mirror sex, breeding kink, mommy kink, marking (m!receiving), corruption kink, slight overstimulation, brief fingering (f!receiving), tall!reader (abt same height as soob), brief cockwarming, cum eating, p in v sex, unprotected sex (this is a no!), aftercare (not rlly discussed, though), praise kink, degradation kink, lmk if there r more pls!!

"so, what has sex been for you in the past?" soobin bluntly asked out of nowhere. you two were literally just chilling on the couch watching tv,

"what do you mean?" you responded,

"like, i dunno, like..what stuff usually happened? what was involved?"

"uh, well, i usually dom i guess," you started,

"o-okay, what else?" he caught himself, his mind buzzing and heart doing flips when he heard you're a dom,

"uh, i don't really know. i can't think of anything off the top of my head, so, why don't we just start with you?" you tried to play it smooth, and it did. to be honest, you've been dying for this conversation for ages, so you wanted to learn as much as you can,

"o-oh, well um, i-i-" he stuttered, face flushing,

"soob, if you don't want to tell me it's okay, don't worry about it," you reassured him, not wanting to pressure him into doing anything he wasn’t comfortable with,

“n-no it’s ok it’s just..” soobin trailed off,

“do you want me to just give you a notepad and a pen and 10 minutes by yourself?” you chuckled, half serious,

“actually..yeah, could you do that?”

“oh? sure,” you smiled as you got up to gather the materials and headed back to soobin to hand it to him, “call me when you’re done,”

“okay, uh, maybe you should try to get ready, we gotta leave for that party in 20,”

oh shit. the party. fuck. why did soobin think this was a good topic to bring up RIGHT before a social event with your friends? you said "okay" before giving him a quick kiss and walking to your shared bedroom, sifting through your closet to look for an appropriate outfit,

"is there a theme i need to follow?" you called out,

"i don't think so. wear whatever you want," soobin responded, so whatever you want it was. after sifting for a minute or so and picking out some pieces, you finalized on a strapless black dress. you fixed your hair and decided to just leave it down for tonight, it wasn't a huge event. soon soobin walked in the room and saw you, blushing and swallowing nervously, shuffling over to the closet as well and came out in a black dress shirt and jeans, before heading to the bathroom as well and hug you from behind as you finished up, resting his head on your shoulder, "almost done?"

"yeah, just one more thing," before you grabbed a bottle of perfume, sniffed it, putting it back and choosing another one, making soobin even more nervous as you'd chosen his favorite. after a couple sprays, you kissed his cheek and said, "okay, let's go," letting him lead you to the car, before opening your door, then sitting in the driver's seat. for the whole ride, he tried to keep his focus off of how you looked, especially with your perfume filling the car. he almost gave up on heading to the party entirely when you put your hand on his thigh, while he consistently felt his pants growing tighter as time passed. he could feel himself breathe out a sigh of relief the moment you arrived, getting out of the car, and heading in. the place was bustling, the smell of booze and sweat filling your nostrils. soobin kept close to you the entire time, clearly uncomfortable with the environment you were both involuntarily dragged into. curse yeonjun. naturally, he just had to go all out for his birthday. whatever, not like you could just ditch him right now. what happened next was worse, though, as he got dragged away by yeonjun. you decided to just let him be and go get a drink. you soon got a glass of scotch on the rocks as he was soon surrounded by a bunch of extra friends..and women. women who weren't you. women who weren't you. women that were touching him, getting pretty handsy for a complete stranger. you were very well aware of how attractive he was, but you felt jealous, and very pissed at yeonjun for allowing this even though he was aware of your relationship. you felt your teeth grind at the sight of multiple women grabbing at him, feeling his chest and abdomen. his eyes were like a deer, wide and innocent, unknowing of what to do. his eyes filtered through the room, before finally meeting yours. he gulped when he saw your expression, dark and almost murderous. soobin tried to push them off, but the women were too drunk and simply wouldn't listen. the moment you snapped was when one of the girls tried to kiss him, but missing and hitting his chin. she was clearly the drunkest one, but it still infuriated you. your glass was slammed down on the table, almost breaking, as you steadily walked over to the place soobin was in. towering over the girls, they noticed your presence almost immediately, and all but the drunkest ran away,

"heyyy, what's your pro'lem? i'm jus' havin' a lil fun," she slurred, giving one of the ugliest smiles you've ever seen,

"yeah, my problem is that you're trying to have 'a lil fun' with my boyfriend, so back off or i'll fuck you up," you leaned down to her level, clearly something clicked in her head, sobering her up just a bit. she soon nodded frantically, gave a quick apology, and ran off with the rest of her group to talk about what had just happened,

"y/n i'm sorry they wouldn't leave-" he stood up, trying to explain, but you shushed him gently,

"hey, binnie it's okay, i saw everything, just stay close for the rest of the night please, i don't think i can take more people like that," you sighed, giving him a quick kiss on the nose. soobin nodded, and staying close was what he did. he also couldn't keep his eyes off you, maybe your display of jealousy did something. you always tried to keep it in check, as it had driven others away in the past, but thankfully, it seemed that soobin was actually inclined to stay because of your possessiveness. you thanked whatever god was out there for this, that you finally found someone who wasn't scared away due to your nature. seriously though, his eyes never wavered, only occasional small glances around at people were what gave him visual separation from you. fortunately, the party ended in an hour or so, with yeonjun coming up to you personally and apologizing for the incident, which you put aside your previous hard feelings and told him not to worry about it and there was a lot of things that had his attention and it just slipped past him. he thanked you and you soon left, just barely keeping under the speed limit the whole ride home, eager to get back as soon as possible so you could have soobin all to yourself. the moment the front door was closed, you threw your shoes off, let soobin take his off, and dragged him to your bedroom. you set him onto the bed, and took off his clothes while kissing his face and neck, "this okay?" you asked temporarily stopping,

"yes, mommy, please don't stop again," he gave you the green light, and you didn't take a second longer to return to your previous antics, finally stopping at his lips, making out with him for minutes on end. you took off your own clothes before straddling his lap,

"hey bunny, want me to go get that list you made earlier?" you asked, peppering kisses into his jaw,

"no, mommy, stay here, i can tell you," the sudden change on his attitude on sharing his preferences showed how desperate he was to have you stay with him, "uh..i like praise..and degradation..but praise more! i really like being marked too. maybe a little choking, i like mirrors too..i think that's it," soobin blushed, "is that okay?"

"yeah binnie, don't worry," you smiled at him, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead, "c'mere then, if you like mirrors," you gently set him on the other side of the bed, where your full body mirror stood. he swallowed, anticipating at what was to come. you kneeled on the bed behind him, wrapping your arms around his chest, pulling him close, "look bun, this good for you?" you whispered in his ear, nibbling on the shell,

"yes mommy, thank you," he leaned back to pull you into a kiss, which you happily reciprocated, his hand on your cheek, trying to get you closer than you already were, then you reached down and pulled on his nipple, making him jerk and lean into you, moaning in the process. then you snaked your arms down towards his dick, which was standing up, with a slight curve, tip red, angry, and leaking with precum, the liquid dribbling down towards his thighs. you decided to help relieve him and you took his dick in your hand, slowly pumping up and down as you put your other hand around his neck, clasping down, making him moan again

"look, bunny. look at yourself and how i make you fall apart," you let the sinful words fall out of your mouth with the sweetest tone, as his face turned to watch you pump his dick in your hand, as well as your hand tight around his throat. he could feel his mind getting fuzzier at the lack of blood and oxygen, but it only made everything else so much more sensitive. his swollen, pink lips parted as he let out strings of whines as he felt his orgasm approach. knowing this, you picked up the pace, squeezing just a bit harder as you softly bit and left hickeys all over his neck, shoulders, and back, "aren't you just a pretty whore, hm? only wanting me to please you like a pillow princess, you don't want to do any work do you? just wanna watch yourself cum? well, you're mine, bunny. your my pillow princess, and your my pretty whore, got it? nobody else can have you but me," you growled in his ear as you rubbed his tip, him finally cumming all over his legs and your hand. you held your hand up to his mouth and he licked it clean, whimpering as you continued to slowly pump his dick, shuddering as the sensitivity was overcome by pleasure. after stopping so you could switch positions, you were now in front of him, "think you got a little more in you, bunny?" you asked, tucking some stray hairs behind his ear,

"yes, mommy. can i be inside you please? i really really wanna feel you," he grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together, which you nodded and you slowly sank down on him, back to his chest, as you wanted to watch yourself in the mirror alongside him. he groaned as he bottomed out, arms wrapping around you and tugging you close. after letting him get used to you, you lifted yourself up before sinking back down, his dick twitching at how tight and warm you were. soon, he took it on his own to maintain the pace, and started off by simply rolling his hips into you, making you moan as he continuously hit your g-spot. however, he still needed more, starting to relentlessly pound into you, digging his head into your neck as he tried to muffle his moans into you, before you catching him and saying,

"hey binnie, don't do that, lemme hear my little whore's moans mk? you're doing so good, making me feel amazing bun," you said, which he nodded to, feeling his dick twitch again at the name. now, he didn't hold back, letting all of his pretty noises into the world, as well as right into your ear. soobin's moans only brought you closer to the edge, which was getting nearer as he never stopped ramming into your g-spot, making you finally cum as you grabbed one of his hands that were wrapped around you, squeezing tightly as your walls clamped down on him, making him whine as he cummed into you. after he rode out his high, along with you, he slowly pulled out, but suddenly replaced his dick with his pretty fingers, trying to keep his cum in you. you got the hint, even though he didn't tell you in the beginning that he liked breeding you. then, he led you to the bathroom to clean you both up,

"hey, y/n? y'know, i really liked how you..um..back there.." soobin suddenly got flustered, making you laugh at his behavior, kissing his nose,

"sorry if it was a little much," which he rapidly shook his head no, saying how he found it super hot and honestly wouldn't care if you had fucked him right there. once you started aimlessly chatting about random topics (as well as tonight's events), you finally cleaned up and settled down in your bed, him on top of your chest, nuzzling into the crook of your neck,

"g'night bunny, i love you," you kissed his damp hair, still not fully dry from the shower you just took, as he gave a quiet "i love you too" before you both drifted off to sleep.

---

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ticklish-n-stuff · 7 months

Text

Tickletober day #20: Relentless

I love lee Thoma as much as the next guy, BUT WHAT ABOUT LEE AYATO?? HE DESERVES TO GET HIS SHIT WRECKED

And its not like im lee for Thoma or smth huahahaha...🫣

Also ive been wanting to write them for so long i lub them 💖💖💖

___________________________________________

Thoma x Ayato (interpret as you wish)

Lee: Ayato

Ler: Thoma

Warnings: Tickles!

___________________________________________

Ayato was many things: calm, collected, elegant, that's how he was known to the public. The only one who got to see his more... 'silly' side was Thoma, like now. The Kamisato clan's leader was refusing to go to sleep, although he had an early meeting to go to.

"My lord, please go to sleep. It's good for you" Thoma felt like he was dealing with a hyperactive toddler, which I mean isn't that far off, but he wasn't sure how much patience he had left in him.

"Hmm... make me, why don't you~" was all he was met with, as a cocky Ayato layed back with arms folded behind his head.

In that moment, Thoma could feel a vein pop. He really knew how to push his buttons, but he wasn't the only one with a trick up his sleeve. It was time to resort to drastic meassures. With a deep breath "Y'know what? Fine! But don't say I didn't warn you". Thoma cracked his knuckles dramatically before jumping on top of his master, earning a surprised squeak from the latter.

"T-Thoma?! I didn't think you'd be this bold...~" Ayato tried teasing him to throw him off his game. Letting out a chuckle as Thoma's cheeks turned a nice, crimson red.

"You- you will sleep! If it's the last thing I do" his determination managed to push back the feeling of embarrassment and with that, his hands latched onto Ayato's waist, watching as his eyes went wide when the realization hit.

"Wahait! Uhh... I'll go to sleep?" the blue haired male spoke with a sheepish grin, but the damage had already been done.

"Oh sure, sure. After I'm done with you~" now it was Thoma's turn to fluster him, his hands delivering squeeze after squeeze along Ayato's hips.

"PFFT! NOHOHO! NOT THEHEHERE!" Ayato instantly gripped onto Thoma's jacket as he threw his head back in loud cackles.

"Here, how about a nice massage to get you all losened up?~" the blonde couldn't help but chuckle along as his thumbs rubbed deep circles against Ayato's hip bones.

"WEHYAHAHAHA! WAIT! OKAHAHAY! I'LL SLEHEEHEEP!" the leader begged as his eyes squeezed shut and nose scrunched up, it was quite a cute sight, but Thoma couldn't afford any distractions right now. Not until his master was all tuckered out.

"Hmm... I dunno. Perhaps 10 minutes of tickling is just what you need~"

"S-SPEHEAKING FROM EXPERIENCE AHAHARE YOU?!" how did this man manage to keep teasing while being tickled half to death? Who knows, power of being Kamisato Ayato.

Thoma's cheeks huffed in flusterdness and annoyance. "I tried playing nice, but now you've forced my hand" literally, he shot his hands down to Ayato's thighs, but instead of squeezing aggresively, he lightly trailed his short fingernails all over the soft skin. As gentle as it was, it was an absolute killer move for his master.

"Thoma nohoAHAHAHAHA—" it wasn't long 'till Ayato's laughter switched to silent wheezes and gasped, you'd think he was being tortured.

"I think I'll stay riiiight here until you fall asleep~" Thoma spoke with a grin, keeping up the light grazes and scribbles over Ayato's thighs nonstop. Lessoned learned, don't annoy Thoma.

___________________________________________

#augtickletober2023 #tickletober2023 #genshin impact #genshin tickle #genshin tickle fic #kamisato ayato #thoma #lee!ayato #ler!thoma

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marshiebun · 2 months

Note

what if you made a new public twitter account instead? all fresh and new

i dont rly want people to think im running away from my past though. i feel like people would take it the wrong way, i dont want to seem like im hiding from anything bc what i took responsibility for in the past is still important to me. and i mean.. i still go by 'marshiecritter' so it'd be a bit silly

i dunno, i just wish ppl would not assume the worst i guess? i really just wanna go back so i can interact with my friends again and post art, thats rly all i want lol. none of my friends really use tumblr, despite how lovely it is here compared to twitter. i dont gaf about having a platform, but people ended up pinning me as a 'popular osc artist' and then when that crashed down it was a lot to take in. it sounds stupid but theres some lame twitter callout trauma i have from it that im still dealing with, having hundreds of people suddenly turn on you and say you're disgusting is a lot and it's very difficult to process

i just really wanna talk to more people that like the things i do! its been really lonely being confined to my priv, and even though im super extremely grateful to have mutuals and friends that understand me and support me, the outer osc is really scary. i dont want people to believe im some horrible gross nasty guy, because ive genuinely reflected on everything and learned. i've put a huge amount of work in emailing people, splitting off from problematic people, and making amends with others trying to mend my mistakes. why else would i make a whole video using my real voice addressing everything as much as i could?

some day i'll return, but for now i'm just scared of what people will think. because there are definitely still people out there that despise me, and all i want is to heal from that

#text #vent #? kind of?

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absinthe-adonis · 9 months

Text

lucien flavius x reader

warnings: pwp, blowjobs, finger sucking, mild choking, jerking off, dom!reader, sub!lucien, orgasm denial, begging

author’s note: ive never sucked a dick before unfortunately so i apologize if this is written weird. as always feedback and requests are very welcome!! i still have a nagging feeling that there are some weird clunky sentences and mistakes and/or i overused some words too much even though ive read this over three times now and sent it to two different people to read so i also apologize about that. however one of those people was a lesbian and she said “the fact that it kept me interested is extremely impressive”

“Why don’t we work on your training, Lucien?” As much as you wished he’d let you train him on more than one thing a day, you had to admit at least the days seemed to fly past when you were with him.

He looks up from the enchanting table, his face lighting up. “Really? Oh, I’ve been looking forward to this. What shall we work on this time?”

“Well.” You smile wryly. “Don’t take this personally, but I was thinking we should build up your stamina.”

His face pales dramatically. “Oh dear. You’re going to make me exercise, aren’t you?”

“Come on, come on, outside. You want to be able to hold your own in a fight for longer, don’t you?”

He groans, dragging himself dramatically toward the door. “I suppose so.”

You roll your eyes and walk out to the sprawling, vibrant yard of Tundra Homestead. Despite his complaints, Lucien is close behind you, as always.

“We can start easy,” you say, fighting back laughter at the look of dread he’s giving you. “15 push-ups. Make sure you count them.”

“Easy?! You overestimate me.” Resentfully, he lowers himself to the ground in the most dignified way he can and begins his set of very undignified push-ups. You fold your arms and watch him amusedly.

“One… two… three… f-four…” His strained, breathy voice gives you butterflies — and not in your stomach. To make matters worse, Lucien lets out a soft, broken moan as he reaches the sixth push-up. You tighten your grip on your arms, trying with all your might not to react visibly (or audibly).

His body shakes as he struggles to raise himself up and down, breathing heavily. You imagine what he would look like, unclothed and trembling beneath you, completely at your mercy-

You clasp your hand over your mouth, horrified at your own thoughts. Holy shit, this is so bad, he’s just your traveling companion, he probably doesn’t even-

Your train of thought is interrupted by Lucien exhaling loudly and collapsing on the ground. He looks up at you with forlorn puppy eyes. “Can that please be it for today?”

You nod stiffly. “Uh- yep. That’s fine. I’m gonna- I- I’m gonna- I’ll be right back.” You turn around and practically stumble back into the house.

You sit down on the side of your bed and stare at the wall, mind and heart racing. The attraction itself wasn’t even that bad- it had always sort of been there, ever since your first meeting when you asked if he was flirting and he got all flustered. It was cute. He was cute. But now, he’s hot, which is a completely and vastly different beast to deal with. And really, it’s the implications of the attraction that have you so frazzled. Also, how did such a short and simple thing drive you so insane with lust? Where did all of this come from? What if you accidentally change the way you treat him and then he feels bad or he starts treating you differently back?

The wooden rapping of knuckles against wood breaks through the deafening silence. Lucien poked his head through the door nervously. “Is- is everything all right?”

Gods motherfucking damn it. “Yeah, it’s okay, Luce. I dunno.”

“Were my push-ups really that bad?” He asks, the slight lilt in his voice and his concerned smile clearing the cloud in your mind a bit. You chuckle.

“Can I come in?”

You nod and pat the bed next to you. He sits, his knees tilted in towards you. “Do you, er… want to talk about anything?”

“I want you,” you blurt out. Lucien stares at you, mouth open.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, quickly standing up. “I shouldn’t have- oh my god, I’m so stupid, I’m sorry. You-”

You stop as he grabs your wrist, not pulling you back but not letting you leave either. “Do you mean, like-”

“Yes.”

He lets go of you, putting his fingertips to his lips. A deep coral hue floods across his cheeks. “Oh! Well. That’s- certainly something!”

“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything- I especially shouldn’t have said it like that- if you’re disgusted and want me to leave, you can just say that, I won’t-”

He gives you an incredulous look. “What? No! No, that’s not what I meant at all! I’m not- I mean, I’m not… opposed??”

Your brain seems to have shut off. “You… really?

“Well, I wouldn’t lie to you!” He says defensively. “Especially not about this, that would be cruel!”

A fiery sensation begins to burn in the pit of your stomach. “Lucien.” There’s a new deep, sultry quality to your voice, sending visible shivers down his spine. He looks at you, silently, expectantly.

“Would you want to? Right now?”

He swallows. “I suppose I wouldn’t-”

You don’t even allow him to finish his sentence before you push him down onto the bed, climbing on top of him. He gasps quietly, almost paralyzed.

You straddle him, placing one hand on his waist and leaning down to run the other through his soft blond hair. “Relax,” you purr into his ear. “You can tell me to stop at any time.” You move your hand down to palm the growing bulge in his pants. He lets out a soft whimper, and the fire in your stomach begins to burn brighter. “Fuck,” you whisper. “You’re so pretty.” You move your hand back to his waist and start grinding against him, eliciting more muffled moans from his closed mouth. You run your thumb across his lips. “You like this?”

He nods fervently. “Yes- gods, that feels- really good-” His high, whiny voice is like a divine symphony. Your hands travel slowly down his sides until you slip your thumbs under the waistband of his pants, causing him to stir in anticipation. You drag them down his slim, downy legs, and slide yourself back onto your knees. He whines at the absence of stimulation.

“Sit up, Lucien.”

He inhales sharply and slowly props himself up with his arms, which you can see are shaking with nervousness and excitement.

“Now take your shirt off.”

He nods and eagerly pulls it over his head, tossing it to the side. You allow your gaze to indulgently explore his exposed body. “Look at you,” you breathe softly. “So obedient for me.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, whining again and rolling his hips forward. You reach out and hook your fingers onto his loincloth, slowly and agonizingly pulling it down to reveal his rapidly hardening cock, dripping with precum.

“Hmm,” you hum appreciatively. “Already so wet. You want me to suck your dick, Lucien?”

“Yes,” he says in a quiet, choked voice.

“Oh, you’re gonna have to do better than that, Luce. I want you to beg for me. I want you to show me that you want me as much as I want you.”

“Please,” he mewls. “Please, please, I need you- I n-need you, please make me feel good, please-” His words dissolve into incoherence as you grasp onto his thighs, your fingers sinking into his plush skin, pushing his legs further apart. He lets out high, shuddering moans as you put your lips against his cock, swirling your tongue languidly around his tip. “Fuck- oh my gods- aah-”

You continue to suck teasingly at his tip, thoroughly enjoying his taste, the heat of his skin, the high desperation of the noises he’s making. You can feel him squirming, and you can see his hands grabbing fistfuls of the sheets in the corners of your vision.

“Please,” Lucien moans. “I need more- more, please-”

You laugh softly, the vibration of the sound making him sigh wantonly. You move your head down his shaft, sucking and caressing him with your mouth and tongue. His hips buck up involuntarily, his long cock hitting the back of your throat. “Ah- sorry- fuck. It feels- so good- so good-”

You smile and reach up, grabbing his wrist and placing his hand on the back of your head. His fingers immediately lace through your hair, holding firmly onto you. “Oh my gods,” he groans, and starts slowly pushing your head up and down. You relish in his pleasure, in how perfectly his dick seems to fit in your mouth. You shift your hands to his hips, and he whines loudly, thrusting forward.

You can tell he’s holding back, trying to keep his composure. You wish you could tell him it’s okay, he can let go, but you don’t want to stop. His cock is absolutely intoxicating, and you need more of it. You want to make him completely unravel. You increase your pace, bobbing your head up and down, and using your grip on his hips to pull him closer to you, farther down your throat. He cries out your name, and you can feel him quivering beneath you. Yes. Fuck. Oh my gods. Your hands curl into claws, your nails scratching at him in blind desire. His yelps and moans only make you more and more insatiable.

But suddenly, you have an idea that makes an evil smile spread across your face. As wonderful as it would be to swallow every last drop of his cum, you want to see him. You continue to suck on him, rapidly and passionately, coaxing him towards his orgasm-

-And then, you pull back. He practically screams in agony, thrusting hopelessly into the air. You look up at his face; his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth wide open, his features twisted together in pleasure and pain. “N-no,” he gasps out. It takes every ounce of willpower in your body not to pounce on him and finish him off right there.

He opens his eyes and looks down at you pitifully, panting and twitching, leaning back on his hands. “Please, please, keep going, please-”

You climb up on top of him and then swing around, pressing yourself against his sweat-slicked back and putting your lips against his ear.

“I’m going to help you jerk off that pretty cock of yours, and you are not going to cum until I say you can.”

He whimpers quietly, and you reach forward and place your hand on his, guiding it to his throbbing dick. He wraps his fingers needily around it, and you did the same between his. He starts moving his fist up and down, but you tighten your grip and force him to slow down, to which he lets out a heavy, drawn-out moan. You splay your free hand across his smooth chest, stroking his skin, slowly traveling upward until you clasp it around his throat.

Lucien lets out a depraved keening sound, his own free hand shooting backward and finding your thigh, then clutching onto it for dear life. You look at the hopeless expression on his face, completely lost in pleasure. “That’s my good boy,” you croon in his ear, earning yourself another sweetly strangled moan.

“Please,” he stammers out, hardly able to speak. “Please let me cum, please, I want to cum, please, I need it so bad-”

“Mmm, not yet, Luci.” He groans in pain, both at your response and as you remove your hand from his. “Don’t stop, now. Keep the same pace. Be a good boy.”

“I will, I will- I’ll be such a good boy for you, please, plea-” You cut him off by shoving two fingers into his mouth, essentially having him in a headlock now. “Suck.”

He moans again around your fingers, and does as you ask. Your entire body feels as if it might burn to a crisp at any moment, seeing the pleasure he’s in because of you. He can barely concentrate on jerking off and sucking your fingers at the same time. The beautiful noises he’s making are steadily amping up in volume and desperation, and he’s becoming sloppier and shakier the more his restraint fades into utter ecstasy.

You push your fingers further into his mouth. “Does my pretty boy want to cum?” You ask sweetly. He nods and whines in response.

“Cum for me, Lucien. Show me how good you feel.” You clamp your legs on either side of his torso, spreading your fingers out in his mouth, squeezing his throat in encouragement. In a few seconds, hot streams of cum burst out of his dick, covering his hand, his legs, his stomach, the sheets, even the floor. You press hard, passionate kisses against his shoulder, cheek, and neck, everywhere you can reach, as tremors rack his body and his moans reach a heavenly climactic chorus. He calls out your name, over and over, pushing himself into you as he orgasms.

Finally, he goes limp, breathing like he had just run a marathon. You let yourself relax in the blissful intimacy of this moment, before peeling yourself off of him and gently lowering him down onto the bed, pressing a final kiss to his lips. “You’re perfect, Lucien. You did so good.”

“You,” he answered breathlessly. “You’re amazing.”

You cup his cheek in your hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”

The you spend the next few minutes cleaning the mess off of him and his surroundings with rags from your bedside table, while he apologizes profusely no matter how many times you assure him it’s okay (and you actually think it’s very hot). He still doesn’t seem to have complete control of his motor skills back yet.

What a man. You already can’t wait for the next time you get to rail him senseless.

#cross-posted to ao3 #skyrim x reader #skyrim smut #skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim custom followers #lucien flavius #lucien flavius x reader #fun fact the aforementioned lesbian friend actually accidentally opened this as a document on her school account #she was called down to the office and the counselor said i have a career in writing

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 1 year

Note

sorry i have to brainfart this somewhere but mersault chuuya wearing almost damn near similar clothing to his youth got me thinking about dazai and chuuya's fashion choices.

dazai, in all the eras where he was in the mafia....never changes his outfit. it fitting, given his character and such.....so his ada outfit makes him look like a rainbow. dark blue vest, blue gem(?) bolo tie, striped shirt and a tan coat similar to oda's. i think it's cool, to show the stark contrast between his pm days and how he's faring now, aswell to show how much effect oda had on him.

chuuya.....is the complete opposite. boy changes his clothes all the time. but it's so interesting.

his fifteen outfit is very "him" in a sense. street kid, street kid style- red shirt, grey hoodie, green leather jacket, bright blue sheep armband. he fits right in with the rest of the sheep, and hes so...colorful here. almost similar to ada dazai's outfit. and then theres the outfit he wears in the mafia- the first one we saw back in the manga where he seems to be wearing like a..."beta" version of his current outift- but the way it was drawn (disregarding the anime for a second) it looks like its almost ill fitting for him. the vest is too big, the coat looks so heavy, the tie isnt properly tucked, and his pants are baggy. like hes struggling to "fit in".

then theres sb outfit- hes wearing the standard mafia outfit like higuchi, but with his own touches- rolled up sleeves, glasses tucked in his breastpocket, choker, gloves. its not much, but even higuchi doesnt do anything to hers. we kinda see him "getting into" the mafia work, and theres no pop of color here. the dragon head conflict outift is different though- hes wearing clothes that are "his style" again. simple shirt, jacket, choker, gloves. he also has his red petticoat (i think thats what it is? whatever that long cloth underneath his jacket) that, once again, gives him some color. i dunno what spured the outfit change, but i honestly think the red color is his own touch- his own "color"

and then current chuuya. no color at all, maybe safe from the ribbon on his hat. he wears his coat on his shoulders, similar to pm dazai. (also, slight off tangent here- he always loses his coat whenever hes dealing with dazai?? i think?? which is. interesting. given with how glued pm dazai's coat is to his own shoulders. like he actively takes it off/gets it taken off and i SWEAR this only even happens when hes with dazai. idk. ever since asagiri said beast dazai wearing his coat fully to signify him accepting his role as the pm boss ive been. thinking about it. a lot.)

where was i going with this?? oh yeah. why is mersault chuuya wearing his old clothes?? specifically fifteen clothes? like was it his off day or something. bc if you look at chuuyas various outfit as his progression towards the mafia then him wearing his old non mafia clothes either means two things : 1. this is to signify chuuya, under vampire influnce, is well. obviously not loyal to the mafia atm. or 2. something might happen in the future that makes him swear allegiance to someone else which i dont find possible but??? who knows. im overthinking this

Oh my god I opened my asks to find this monster in here and scrolled through it like ?????????

Please feel free to do this anytime this was an absolute joy to read hahaha

"dazai, in all the eras where he was in the mafia....never changes his outfit." His outfit stays pretty similar, you're right, though he does actually change it once during his mafia days. The left image is the outfit he wears in Fifteen and Stormbringer, while the right is what he wears in DHC and Dark Era.

The difference is the blazer jacket he adds under his coat. It's a minimal change but I think it's significant. I mentioned in this post how I believe the change might be related to his change in pronoun from boku to watashi, but really it's more the added layer of distance that makes this significant. Dazai just looks a little... odd, in the first outfit. The coat hangs off him loosely, his shirt is a little baggy. He looks very boyish, and that makes his deceptive tendencies and deeply concerning outlook all the more disturbing to others.

The second outfit makes one change but his clothes now look like they fit him (still with the exception of the coat, which never fit and never will... in this universe anyways. You mentioned Beast so... you know already hehe). In the case of the second outfit, he looks more mature and formal, which lends itself to a person who withdrew further and further away from people (with the exception of the other two at Bar Lupin); who became a terrifying executive in other's eyes, moving away from the "creepy intelligent child" image he had earlier - even though he is still very much a kid. No one knows Dazai - I think the added image of formality and authority here is just one of the many barriers he constructed to keep people from getting too close.

"so his ada outfit makes him look like a rainbow. dark blue vest, blue gem(?) bolo tie, striped shirt and a tan coat similar to oda's."

hjdfvbdjf rainbow - entering his no longer closeted gay era (sorry lol i couldn't resist)

No but you're right about the coat looking a bit like Oda's. He cared for and respected that man like no other and I think when Dazai thinks of "a good person" Oda is the first person who comes to mind. His shirt in the manga is also stripy like Oda's, a little detail that got lost in the anime. :')

"his fifteen outfit is very "him" in a sense. street kid, street kid style- red shirt, grey hoodie, green leather jacket, bright blue sheep armband. he fits right in with the rest of the sheep, and hes so...colorful here."

Yeah. He looks every bit the street kid and blends with the Sheep near perfectly - more than fitting in though, I think it's more than implied that he wants to fit in and changes his look to do so. Chuuya goes to great lengths to give the appearance of fitting in - because he never felt like he truly did (and certainly the Sheep did not treat him like an equal or a friend).

"and then theres the outfit he wears in the mafia- the first one we saw back in the manga where he seems to be wearing like a..."beta" version of his current outfit- but the way it was drawn (disregarding the anime for a second) it looks like its almost ill fitting for him. the vest is too big, the coat looks so heavy, the tie isnt properly tucked, and his pants are baggy. like hes struggling to "fit in"."

YES you get it!! And adding onto that, Chuuya doesn't really have a lot of reason to want to fit in yet. He hasn't found his personal groove yet, because he has little personal attachment to the mafia at this point in time.

Yeah in Stormbringer he's got a few personal touches but is still pretty non-descript (though you're right, it's much more than Higuchi... something to think about for her character too, and how it seems the mafia may be more of a job than an investment to her). By Dead Apple though, Chuuya's outfit is... well, back to his punk vibes, just a little more mafia-classy, I guess. (I don't know fashion I'm sorry, please don't kill me)

"but i honestly think the red color is his own touch- his own "color""

Red makes a lot of sense as a colour for Chuuya. It's energetic, emotional, fierce and aggressive. It's also considered protective, so yeah it suits him for sure. Red clothes, red ability... red camellias...

"and then current chuuya. no color at all, maybe safe from the ribbon on his hat." Ooo ok. So in the anime, this is true but in the manga, I believe his vest is actually a pale red.

Well. Brown with red undertones. Your point still stands though because the colour is very muted. It's not like Fifteen or DHC Chuuya for sure.

"(also, slight off tangent here- he always loses his coat whenever hes dealing with dazai?? i think?? which is. interesting. given with how glued pm dazai's coat is to his own shoulders. like he actively takes it off/gets it taken off and i SWEAR this only even happens when hes with dazai. idk. ever since asagiri said beast dazai wearing his coat fully to signify him accepting his role as the pm boss ive been. thinking about it. a lot.)"

Oh. Thinking on this. Um. Embarrassed to say - I don't think I noticed that actually. Like obviously he loses the coat a lot and that was already something to think on but... only around Dazai, is that right? Hold on, I'm gonna check.

Ok so my check wasn't super thorough (read: I am too tired and drained to go through each and every panel he appears in) but...

By god, I think you're right.

That's. Hm. I'm going to join you on thinking about that for awhile.

I see the coat as a representation of his role and responsibility he takes on, really, so it's interesting that the formality and symbolism of his service to the mafia gets quite literally discarded in the scenes with his foil and equal. Fascinating.

He's also not wearing it in any of these now infamous panels from Chapter 101:

Huh. Well. Thank you anon. You've just given me a whole new thing to whir about.

"why is mersault chuuya wearing his old clothes?? specifically fifteen clothes?"

Honestly, I'm still waiting to figure this out too.

Because of the purplish hue over this piece of new art, I find it hard to tell what the actual colours of his outfit are but it does look awfully similar to his Fifteen outfit. It could just be his "day-off" outfit but I think there's got to be more to it than that. It could have to do with allegiance, like you suggested. May I also suggest the return to a sense of inhumanity?

These are also the clothes he wore when his journey to find answers on himself began. Might he be entering a new arc where he has to "find" himself again?

I still feel we don't have enough information to make a solid judgement. As the meursault pov continues, I think we'll have a better reason as to why he's dressed like this.

#thanks for the ask!#feel free to dump thoughts at any time whoever you are anon this was so fun #also i'm so annoyed with myself that i didn't notice that bit about the coat earlier but also so happy you pointed that out!#things to think about when i am less tired...#bsd #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #soukoku #skk #storyrambles #as always if i screwed up somewhere... just tell me. rip the bandage off lol

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