#i'm going to warn you that i might actually have cried a little bit writing this one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fyorina · 24 days

Text

ᡣ𐭩 ICARION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai had known he was flying too close to the sun, he should have stopped himself while he still had the chance. {wordcount: 11.5k; fem!reader, romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: installment fiveeeee otherwise known as part 2 of installment four LOL! ugh guys i'm dragging myself thru the trenches right now i'm so miserable - i wasn't even up to posting this today i won't lie but </3 i pulled thru </3 if only barely. fun fact this is actually only a 3 scene chapter but the second scene is just MASSIVE. i wasn't up to restructuring so you guys are just going to get it as it is. this is also unedited because i just wasn't up to it so bear with me regarding mistakes. JUST TO REMIND YOU ALL: the last installment is DELAYED - i have 3 finals next week and haven't had the time to finish it. it will be up by the end of may </3 sorry guys. wow this actually is attempt number three trying to post this correctly - i'm so shot

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from badlands - if you guys read badlands, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole 12k chapter just because there's 4k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the SECOND scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in badlands, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, dazai cries </3 poor baby, sub!dazai, as always pussy drunk!dazai, bit of overstim on dazai's part too, jfhsuhdfsu i will say it starts on the bathroom floor so that might be a bit gross to some of you but dazai hardly even uses his apartment anyway so trust it's clean. bear with me. it just flowed from there i had to go with it. the story writes itself, i'm only the scribe. LOL let me know if i missed anything, i might have

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

Dazai is hardly listening to the conversation at hand. They’ve been going back and forth for thirty minutes about inconsequential matters. Tolstoy is getting increasingly heated as he goes tit-for-tat with Nabokov, evidently the tripartite alliance between the Russian mafias is not quite enough to quell all of the bad blood that’s simmered between them, but something about the situation isn’t sitting right to Dazai. He can feel it in his gut, swirling in the depths of his chest—something is wrong but he doesn’t know what.

Mishima looks equally put out, gaze trained on Tolstoy and Nabokov’s conversation, occasionally looking back at his executives. Cao seems bored, head tilted back against the red cushions of the round booth as he smokes a cigarette; in all regards, he seems relaxed, but Dazai notices the way the fingers of his free hand are tense on the table, as if he’s bracing himself for something.

Something isn’t right.

Dostoevsky is cunning. Intelligent. He’s been lethally sharp in every universe that the other Dazais have encountered him in. He wouldn’t send Tolstoy and Nabokov into this meeting with them at each other’s throats like this without an ulterior reason. Dazai is missing something critical; he knows it’s not something as simple as wanting to give off the appearance of a divided front as means to get Dazai and Mishima to lower their guard. Nothing is that easy. There’s some ulterior motive that Dazai has to figure out.

Cao’s presence. Tolstoy and Nabokov’s blatant hostility toward one another. Mishima’s words from earlier, warning him that something seems to be brewing, that Tolstoy and Nabokov had been on edge since he arrived at the event hall. Dazai’s head hurts, and he can’t focus, not when you’re in the other room without him.

Already, he feels as if he’s been separated from you for too long, he’d been hoping this meeting was only going to last thirty minutes at most, and it’s been thirty minutes already and hardly any progress has been made. If Dazai didn’t know any better, he’d think that…

He’d think that Tolstoy and Nabokov were stalling.

At once, Dazai starts catching onto the things that he missed. The way Nabokov keeps glancing up at the clock on the wall above Cao. The way Tolstoy’s gaze keeps flickering to his phone. The way Cao’s attention seems to be elsewhere.

Cao Xueqin. A Dream of Red Mansions. A scrying ability.

His heartbeat slows and Dazai blinks. Once. Twice. Blood roars in his ears as his gaze twists down to where his phone is laying on the table in front of him, on its face. Tachihara should have texted him to let him know that he got to you. Him or Chuuya. He usually reports to Chuuya anyway, so Dazai figured that Chuuya would’ve gotten the confirmation. He turns his head to the side to look at the executive from the corner of his eye, trying to keep his breath as slow and steady and natural as possible when he realizes that Chuuya is frowning with furrowed brows, looking at his phone. Unsure.

Dazia reaches for his own phone, fingers deceptively steady despite the way his insides are curdling with a sudden jolt of anxiety. His eyes zero in on the top right corner of his phone. No signal. Dazai has been to this event hall countless times in this life and dozens of others—there’s always service throughout the building.

Unless it’s being jammed, that is.

Dazai’s blood runs cold, gaze dragging from his phone to the door that leads to the hallway connecting to the event hall where you are. He feels as if he’s been doused with icy water and lit on fire all at once. For a second, he doesn’t move—he’s not sure if it’s anxiety or fear, or both, but he knows it’s because you’re out there and Dostoevsky is plotting something while trying to keep him out of the picture in this meeting.

He should have known better. Mishima had assumed that Dostoevsky wasn’t in the building—he had his three best scouts prowling the whole building trying to place the real leader of the tripartite but had failed. Nabokov had apparently told him that Dostoevsky had to stay back to handle residual business in Russia, a blatant lie, one that has had Mishima on edge all night.

The one with the overcoat. The clown.

Dazai stills as he remembers the white haired man who hung around Dostoevsky in some of the other universes. Not all of the other Dazais encountered him—in fact, Dazai thinks there were only half a dozen other universes where he met the man, he can hardly remember his name, but when he did…

Spatial linking. Of course Mishima’s men hadn’t been able to hunt down Dostoevsky. Dostoevsky would’ve predicted that the Sun and Steel would seek out the mastermind with their scouts. He used the clown to enter the building without anyone knowing after the scouts finished their hunt.

Dazai had missed a critical piece on the board.

Dazai rises to his feet abruptly, mind numb, eyes distant, and lips parted to speak but no words escape them. Tolstoy and Nabokov exchange a sharp, pointed look, pausing in their hostilities, and Dazai knows. He knows.

Dostoevsky is going after you.

He hears Chuuya and Kouyou calling after him but it sounds like a distant buzz. His throat feels clogged, his heartbeat is erratic and uncontrollable, his ears are ringing. His surroundings are blurry, a part of him doesn’t even know where he is: the event hall, your apartment, in the cafe below the Armed Detective Agency, it’s all blurring together.

This is it.

His vision swims and his head spins. The hallway seems impossibly long, much longer than it was to walk to the room. He can hear Chuuya spitting curses, scrambling out of the room, and he’s sure that his other executives and the other mafiosos aren’t far behind, but Dazai’s mind is on a single track. He doesn’t know how fast he’s moving—fast enough that Chuuya is chasing after him but can’t catch him. Something is heavy and cool in his hand—his gun—numb fingers moving to click the safety off.

This is it.

He might enter that hall and find you dead, slumped over the bar he’d last seen you sitting at, blood splattered across your face. Limp, cold. Just like you were on your bedroom floor. In the booth at the cafe. He’s pulling you from the water. He’s screaming for Yosano when he’s with the Agency. He’s screaming for Mori when he’s with the Mafia. Sometimes he’s alone, and he has no one to call for help, so all he can do is hold you and cry.

It’s his fault. He knew this would happen from the beginning. He knew that being with you would lead you to the same fate that you’ve met in every other universe because of him. He knew that being with you would be your death sentence, but he couldn’t stop himself.

His vision swims again, the red and gold patterns on the walls of the event hall are indistinct blobs, he feels someone try to grab his wrist—Chuuya, probably—but Dazai rips himself free and pushes himself into the event hall.

He ignores the eyes on him and the way people all instinctively move away from the sight of him with his gun out, he’s sure he must look deranged but he’s hardly even keeping himself grounded to this reality. Pages pile around him, every single one has variations of the same scene that’s haunted him for almost eight years written on it; one is being written before his eyes, he can see the words appearing on the blank sheet. He needs to find you before it’s complete. He has to stop it.

His eyes cut across the room, toward the bar he’d last seen you at, and you’re there. You’re there. It’s almost enough to make him scramble to put his gun away, cover up his steep spiral of paranoia even if you are looking right in his direction and see the gun in his hand. He can hardly come to terms with the consequences of this, how you’re seeing him right now, because his gaze tunnels right in on the person sitting next to you and his world comes to a halt.

He lifts the gun. He ignores as people shriek and scramble to the edges of the room. He ignores the look on your face as he moves closer to where you’re sitting with Fyodor Dostoevsky. He ignores the way Chuuya and Kouyou and Piano Man have all skid to a stop somewhere behind him, trying to figure out what to do. Dostoevsky’s hand is mere inches away from brushing against your body, it would only take the slightest movement and you would be dead. It would be a game of who’s faster: Dazai’s trigger finger or Dostoevsky’s ability. Dazai’s always been quick to pull the trigger but now, faced with your life on the line, when he should be at his best because of what’s at risk, he finds himself scared and unsteady.

He can’t lose you. He can’t watch it happen.

He paces toward you slowly, steadily, he swears each step he takes echoes across the suddenly silent event hall. He doesn’t stop until the muzzle of his gun is pressed against the back of Dostoevsky’s head.

“Stand up.” Dazai’s voice is deceptively cold and steady for the rage and fear that’s clawing at his chest, threatening to take control.

Dostoevsky turns his head to the side to look at Dazai, faint amusement in his eyes. “Are you sure you really want to do this here, Dazai?”

The mocking lilt his voice takes is almost enough alone for Dazai to pull the trigger. And if that wasn’t, the way Dostoevsky smiles at Dazai like he’s won is certainly enough to push him over the edge.

Before he can, he feels Chuuya grab his bicep hard.

“You can’t do this here,” he hisses quietly. “If you kill him now on neutral territory, we’ll have all of the mafias in the Eastern Hemisphere coming after you and the government on your ass. You can’t do this here and you can’t do it in public.”

Dazai doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how many mafias come after him for killing on neutral territory when invited as a guest. He doesn’t care that the government will come after him for such a blatant murder. All he cares about is getting Dostoevsky away from you.

“Chuuya is right,” Kouyou murmurs, low enough for only Dazai to overhear. “We can cover this up as is. If you pull the trigger, there’s no hiding what happened here. You know better than this, boy. You won’t be the only person this affects if you do this. Think of her. She will be implicated for coming here with you. Lower the gun and let us handle sweeping this under the rug.”

Dazai can’t even bring himself to look at you. He’s scared of what he might find. But he doesn’t even consider lowering the gun, not until Dostoevsky raises his hands and slips off the bar stool to step away from you. Even when he does, Dazai keeps it trained on him, still tempted to blow his head right off his shoulders.

“I meant no harm,” Dostoevsky says smoothly. “I was intrigued, wanted to know the girl who’s managed to capture your interest. I must say, I see the appeal. Beautiful and intelligent, you have quite the eye, Dazai.”

Dazai’s lips stretch into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s not kind, and it’s mildly feral, and Dazai’s pretty sure he must look entirely deranged from the way Dostoevsky’s eyes widen in a mixture of surprise and entertainment, just enough to be noticeable.

“If you ever go near her again, I’ll put a bullet through your fucking skull, Dostoevsky.”

He should do it now. He should. Fuck Chuuya and Kouyou’s warnings, he should put a bullet in his head and be done with it, move onto handling Christie so that both of the major threats to your life are gone. But he can’t. If he takes this opportunity now, if he kills Dostoevsky so blatantly on neutral territory, the Pale Flame and Three Deaths will come at him in full force, and Dazai is sure the Red Chamber won’t be far behind them with Cao’s recent interest in expanding his business into Japan. And you’ll be caught in the crossfire of all of it, Dazai has ensured that by bringing you here. Dostoevsky must have accounted for all of this. He knew that Dazai would be put in a situation where either way, whether he kills him or lets him go, he’d be throwing himself onto a blade.

Is that it? Killing you wasn’t the goal, was it? Exposing Dazai was. Forcing him into this impossible decision.

Did he really just fall into Dostoevsky’s hands so easily? Even with all of the forewarning the other universes have given him?

It’s you. You always make him reckless, his mind is never as sharp whenever you’re involved, muddled with thoughts of you, plagued with spirals of paranoia and anxiety that make him double guess himself. It’s like this in every universe—he becomes stupid, he becomes rash, he becomes careless. It’s you.

You.

Suddenly very hyper aware of your eyes on him, Dazai lowers his gun, gaze turning in your direction. Dostoevsky lets out one last snide comment, something toward you, telling you ‘don’t you see’ but Dazai doesn’t even process it, heart in his throat as he looks at you. He doesn’t know what he expects—fear, betrayal, even anger. He’s not prepared for the emptiness. He can’t read a single emotion on your face, your eyes eerily void of any feeling as you stare at him.

He says your name quietly. His voice cracks. He should be embarrassed, so many people watching the scene play out, so many of his enemies and allies and subordinates, and he’s staring at you like a lost child with an unsteady voice, but he can’t bring himself to care. The fingers of his free hand are trembling, and the ones wrapped around the grip of his gun are so wound so tight that his knuckles are white.

You’ve never looked at him like this before. Not in any universe.

He thinks he might throw up.

You’ve been mad at him before, scowling at him whenever he distracts you from your work and snarling whenever he makes messes that he never cleans up, but your eyes always stay soft in spite of the venom you spit. He’s seen betrayal on your face a few times before, screaming at him through tears when he got a bit too close to a successful attempt, cursing at him for trying to leave you, but you hold him so gently that it makes up for the harsh words. You’ve been scared of him once, when he lashed out so badly during one of his slumps that he nearly hurt you, but even then, you were more concerned for him then you were scared for yourself, speaking to him softly to settle him down.

He’s never seen this. He wants it to go away. Desperately.

“I’d like to leave,” you finally say after a few moments of silence, and your voice is so vacant of emotion that it leaves him feeling even more sick.

Dazai nods, because he can’t bring himself to speak.

He holds his hand out for you, waiting for you to take it.

You don’t.

You haven’t spoken a word since the event hall, and Dazai doesn’t know what to do. He used to find peace in silence—for years, he’d become accustomed to it, isolating himself from everyone around him, keeping everyone at arm’s length. The most he ever spoke was a few sentences to give out orders to his executives; his voice had become hoarse and raspy over the years of self-imposed isolation, unused to being utilized. But the past few months with you have utterly obliterated any semblance of comfort Dazai had found in solidarity.

It’s become entirely intolerable, the silence is making him sick with anxiety; he has hundreds of lifetimes worth of memories with you and he can’t even vaguely predict what to expect from you right now. You’ve been tense and cold since leaving the event hall. Dazai tried to open up a conversation in the car once but found himself promptly ignored. Chuuya tried to say something to you but only received the same cold shoulder. Even Albatross tried to lighten the mood when the four of you got in the car, but all you did was stare out the window with your back to Dazai.

Now, you’re back up in his penthouse with him. You haven’t sat down. You’ve hardly budged from where you’re standing near the elevator—Dazai wonders if you’re scared of him now, if you want to be as close as possible to the only exit in fear of him lashing out at you. The thought makes him even more nauseous.

He doesn’t even know what to do with himself. He doesn’t want to sit down, he’s uncomfortable standing in the living room, waiting for you to say something, and he can’t bring himself to try to break the silence because if there’s one thing he learned very swiftly, it’s that he can’t handle being ignored by you. He’d prefer anger and hate to the stonewall iciness you’re giving him.

He can’t even fathom what you might be thinking right now. You’re not looking at him. You’re staring at the window that looks over the city, he can see the bright flashing lights from Cosmo World flickering faintly in your eyes. It’s so quiet that he can hear the distant honking of horns, police sirens coming from the streets below.

He just wants you to say something, do something. Yell at him. Scream at him. Hit him or punch him. Anything is better than this.

It feels like an eternity before you finally move away from the elevator. You still don’t speak, but Dazai watches raptly as you make your way into the kitchen. You fling open the cabinets, searching for something, and Dazai’s lips part to ask what you’re looking for but he decides against it. You stop with your jerky movements when you catch sight of the numerous bottles of sake Dazai has stored in his cabinets—room temperature, because Dazai can’t stand cold drinks, they make his teeth hurt. He watches you struggle to uncap it and his body itches to move toward you to help but he knows it won’t do any good. It’ll probably just piss you off more.

When you get the cap off, you’re immediately bringing it to your lips. One. Two. Three. Four large gulps before you put the bottle back down on the counter and turn to look at him. The emptiness in your eyes is gone, replaced by something caught between hurt and anger and betrayal. It makes his heart sink, but he thinks it’s preferable to the emptiness.

“You lied to me,” you finally rasp out, shaking your head as you pace behind the counter. There’s a whole length of a room separating the two of you and Dazai longs for your touch but he forces himself to stuff his hands in his pockets and keep still. “You lied to me, Dazai.”

“Osamu,” he corrects quietly without thinking, not liking the switch up. He’d finally gotten you to call him by his given name earlier in the night, he doesn’t want to lose it so quickly.

For the briefest of seconds, the hurt and betrayal in your eyes disappears and only fire rages in them. “Dazai,” you spit out pointedly.

Dazai almost draws back, not having expected that. In all of the other universes, you’ve always been gentle with him even when you’re livid. You speak his name softly, even with a tight jaw and fisted hands—his given name, you’ve never used his surname against him like this before. Probably because most of the major fights he had with you in those other lives, it was months into the relationship; it’s only been a few weeks in this life so of course-

Dazai realizes, a bit dizzy, that he’s about to lose you.

You found out too soon. You found out through Dostoevsky, through Dazai's own loss of control. You found out in the worst possible way and you found out too soon.

Dazai is about to lose you.

“Okay,” he murmurs, not wanting to test your temper anymore, giving in as a means to try to soothe your anger, regardless of how much it might wound him because being wounded is nothing compared to losing you. “Dazai.”

His compliance seems to do nothing to quell your anger from the way you just scoff and shake your head again, looking away from him. You stare out over the city, dozens of emotions cloud your expression but Dazai still can’t predict what you might do next. He feels out of his depth, in murky waters with an anchor tied to his ankle.

“I knew it, you know?” you finally say quietly. “I knew it from the beginning, honestly, but I kept making excuses for you. I mean, the guns. The secrecy. You weren’t really subtle about it. Did you think I was stupid, or something?”

“Never,” Dazai says honestly, without hesitation. He sees your gaze flicker down to the ground at his words, but you don’t make any move to speak again so he takes the opportunity to, in hopes that you’ll finally listen. “You’re the smartest woman I know. I-”

You interrupt him with a sharp laugh, it’s loud and almost cruel, and Dazai turns in on himself at the sound of it. He feels small and unsteady, like a child who’s being scolded by a parent. When you look at him again, your eyes are wide and wild, half-crazed in sheer disbelief. You don’t believe him. Of course, you don’t. It’s plainly displayed on your face. And why would you anyway? He’s given you every reason not to.

“If you think I’m so smart, why didn’t you think I would figure it out?”

He tries to say that he knew you would. That he’s been living in fear for weeks that you’d finally see him for what he is but when he opens his mouth to say it, no words leave him. Like he’s frozen in fear, ice crawling through his veins, stones weighing on his tongue; he can’t respond, and he knows that he’s only condemning himself more. He tries to force something out but he can’t even make the barest hint of a sound. The mindkiller. He’s never responded well to fear, much less when you’re involved.

You click your tongue, as if to solidify that his silence proves your point, or maybe you know what he can't bring himself to say and you just don't believe him. His stomach churns again, and dread spreads through chest when you say: “If I’m so smart, and I was going to figure it out anyway, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“You would have left.” Dazai is finally able to speak, but he speaks the wrong answer, clearly, from the way you let out another humorless, breathless laugh, eyes wide in disbelief. You look at him like he’s the most audacious man in the entire world. Maybe he is.

“Yeah, I would have,” you agree and Dazai flinches. “Without hesitation, without even looking back. And now, I can’t because you made me fall in love with you without even warning me about what I was getting myself into.”

Dazai’s heart should be leaping through the roof at your confession, but if anything, he feels even worse. His throat feels clogged and his chest feels so heavy. You’ve never regretted falling in love with him before. Not in any lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, because he doesn’t know what else to say. The words are still foreign on his tongue, he doesn’t think he’s ever apologized to someone in this life before the last twenty-four hours.

“No, you’re not,” you say bitterly, looking away. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to care so much about you that when you finally tell me who you are and what you do, I won’t be able to leave.”

Dazai stares at you, lost. He remembers how just the other day he was finding comfort in the way you could read him so easily, knowing he didn’t have to speak for you to know what he needed at the moment. He thinks he hates it now, because you’re finally reading deeper into his soul and seeing him for the sick, twisted monster he really is. Just like he feared from day one. Manipulative. Selfish. Undeserving. His fingers tremble in his pockets, nails biting into his palm so deep that he can feel blood trickling down his skin, but not even the stinging pain can distract him from the numbness spreading through him.

“I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what?” you interrupt him. “You didn’t think I’d be upset? You didn’t think I’d be angry? Or maybe you didn’t think it would happen this soon? Is that it, Dazai? You thought you’d have more time to win me over in hopes that I’d take the news in stride. News flash, Dazai, no amount of time or charm would have made me accept this easily. Accept you easily. How could I ever accept any of this?”

Nausea rises to his throat so suddenly that he almost gags. He feels dizzy, taking a step back so that his back is against the wall, keeping him steady. Your last words echo through his head over and over again, he can’t escape them. The one person who’s always accepted him in every lifetime, the only person he was ever able to find a home in—how could I ever accept you?

His cheeks feel wet, his eyes are wide as he stares at you. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. He doesn’t even think he could if he knew how to respond to that. His lungs are burning and his throat feels so swollen that even just the thought of trying to speak is painful.

You let out a sharp breath, caught between a hysterical laugh and a sob as you press your hands to either side of your neck and pace across the kitchen. “What am I supposed to do, Dazai?” you ask, voice hoarse. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

He thinks it might be a rhetorical question, but he still forces out: “Don’t leave me.”

You scoff again, louder and harsher this time. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as if to futilely minimize the blow. “I wish leaving you was still an option for me.”

Oh. He’s going to throw up.

He wants to blame it on the alcohol he drank earlier in the night. He wants to blame it on the stress of the past few weeks. He wants to blame it on anything but this, even though he knows damn well that this conversation is what triggered the bile that rises to his throat. He forces himself to move, nearly tripping over his feet to get to the bathroom because he doesn’t want you to see him vomiting up his guts.

He hardly makes it to the toilet, crashing to his knees and clutching at the seat as he dry heaves. Nothing comes up—he hasn’t eaten enough the past few days to have anything solid in him, too busy with preparations—but he can’t stop gagging, eyes stinging with tears and throat burning. He doesn’t know how long he stays crumpled at the toilet, losing track of time entirely, a part of him just wants to stay there forever so he doesn’t have to go back out and face you.

Evidently, he doesn’t have to go back out and face you because you come to him.

He’s gagging again when he feels your hand brush his back, hesitantly at first and then firmly. Your touch is warm, and Dazai thinks he must look pathetic as he turns his head to the side to look at you. Your expression isn’t as harsh now, your eyes are still conflicted but your face is softer. After a moment, you take a seat on the floor next to him—you don’t say anything, but you let out a soft puff of air as you slip your arm around his shoulders once he stops heaving.

He crumbles into your chest, body collapsing against yours. You wrap your arms around him, and at once, the numbness starts to fade away. His fingers clutch at your dress desperately, afraid that you’re going to disappear, but you only hold him tighter. You bury your face in his hair, forehead pressed to the top of his head.

“You’re so unfair, Osamu.” Your voice cracks, you’ve lost all of your fire, but Dazai finds no solace in it.

“I know,” he croaks out, throat scratchy and voice wavering. “I know.”

And then words are spilling from his lips before he can stop them, jumbled and hardly intelligible and he’s not even sure that you’re understanding what he’s saying but he can’t stop himself: “I tried. I tried to stay away, I tried so hard, you don’t understand. I knew it would turn out like this, I knew I would ruin you so I tried to stay away, but I’m selfish. I’m so selfish, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I knew better, I’m going to-you’re going to-”

The panic is returning, the words he wants to say but can’t push out are too damning: I’m going to get you killed. You’re going to die because of me. Dazai is breathing but the air isn’t getting to his lungs, his chest burns, and now even with your arms around him, the numbness is returning. It’s rapid now, spreading from his chest to his arms, down his abdomen to his legs; it’s going to consume him entirely, he can feel it, he can-

Oh.

Your lips press to his. Tilting his head back to angle his face up toward you, you lean down and press your lips against his, swallowing his words, his air, his panic. One of your hands cup his cheek while the other cradles the back of his head, Dazai can hardly kiss you back, his lips feel cold and prickly, but his eyes flutter shut as your lips move slowly and carefully against his.

Not for the first time, he thinks that he doesn’t deserve this. Especially not now. He tastes something wet and salty against his lips—he doesn’t know if you’re the one crying, or if he is, and he doesn’t want to know, so he forces himself to move. His arm feels heavy and clunky, and his fingers feel stiff, but he’s able to bring them up to your face, palms cupping your cheeks as the tips of his fingers tangle into your hair. He kisses you until his lungs are screaming for air, and even as he starts to feel lightheaded, he kisses you still, because your lips are the only thing able to push away the numbness overwhelming him.

When you break away from him, you keep your foreheads pressed together, nose nudging against his. You share the same thin sliver of air and Dazai feels dizzy, he wants to kiss you again but he doesn’t think he’s capable of moving yet, so he only stays crumbled in your arms, waiting for you to grace him with your lips again.

“I wish I still had the chance to be a better man,” Dazai says hoarsely, honestly, gaze searching yours desperately. “I would be. For you.”

Please believe me, he thinks to himself helplessly, because it’s the truth. He would try to be. For your sake. He might fail, he might be too far gone, his soul corrupted beyond salvation and his blood black beyond purification, but he would try. He would try so hard for you. But he can’t, not in this lifetime, not without risking everything he’s strove to protect since coming in contact with the Book. He has to stay the criminal, the monster, the demon so that you and Odasaku can live out your lives here. Until Dostoevsky, Christie, and any other person that could turn out to be a threat to either of you are killed, Dazai has to keep playing this role. He has to.

You don’t respond. Dazai thinks it’s because you don’t believe him and it makes him feel sick again. His lips part to repeat himself but you only press yours against his, as if to silence him.

You don’t believe him, the kiss confirms it, and his heart sinks but he can’t even bring himself to protest, to insist that it’s true. Instead, he decides if he can’t prove it through his words, he’ll prove it through his actions. Even though his limbs still feel leaden and clumsy, he forces himself into a better position, sitting up a bit more and bringing both of his hands up to cup your cheeks. He tilts your head back, leaning into you and slowly pressing you back against the floor and distantly Dazai recognizes that this is not the place for this but the thought is only fleeting, he’s too lost in the feeling of your lips against his and your body pressed to him.

And you let him ease you back against the floor. You let him tilt your head back and when his tongue darts out to swipe against your bottom lip, you part your lips for him. He doesn’t have to knock your knees apart, because you spread them just enough for him to slot his hips between them to keep your bodies flush. He wonders if you can feel how clunky his movements are—his fingers still feel heavy against your face and he can hardly hold himself up above you. He hopes he’s not crushing you with his weight, he might be, but you don’t seem to care.

He pulls back to ask if you’re okay with this but you chase his lips and he lets out a soft, muffled noise when you tug gently at his bottom lip and bring your free hand up to cup the back of his head, fingers tangling with his hair, pulling him back down to you. You drag your lips from his to slide them down his neck to the edge of his bandages. He twitches a bit at the feeling, wondering if you’re going to ask to take them off, but instead, you just trail your lips back upward, nipping at his jaw, and he shudders.

And then he finally hesitates, pulling away and not letting you chase after this time. He weighs his options in his head anxiously. He feels like he should do something, that he owes something—a lowering of a mask, a show of vulnerability, you’re entitled to at least that much after everything he’s done. Aren't you?

You give him a curious look and he tries to respond—he does, his lips part for him to speak but nothing leaves them. He swallows thickly, eyes fluttering shut as he braces himself before trying again, bringing one of his hands to yours and wrapping his fingers around it gently, lifting it from his chest to the bandages covering the left side of his face.

“Take them off,” he tells you, voice hoarse and shakier than he would have liked.

Your eyes widen, and he shudders a bit when your fingers smooth against the bandages, uncertain. “Are you sure?” you ask him softly, bringing your other hand to his opposite cheek, cupping his face in your hands again, eyes searching to make sure he means it.

Is he sure? Dazai doesn’t know. He can’t speak again as he stares down at you; a part of him is nervous, and he doesn’t even understand why. You already know who he is, what he is, but a part of him still fears that once you actually see him, something will change. And it’s ridiculous, so many other universes you’ve seen him without his bandages and you’ve never made him feel uncomfortable about it. But you’ve also never used his surname against him during an argument in the other universes, you’ve never regretted loving him, and you’ve certainly never wished you could leave him.

So, yeah, he thinks the anxiety of you removing his bandages and then seeing him in a different light might be more of a possibility in this universe than any other one. His body is more covered in scars than not, and he knows it’s not attractive; he thinks if he sees your expression shift in a negative way when the bandages come off, it might shatter him entirely.

Just the face bandages then, he bargains with himself, swallowing thickly as he forces himself to nod. You sit up from where you’re still laying back against the tiles, propping yourself on your knees to shift closer to him.

Dazai thinks his heart might be in his throat when he feels your fingers unclip the clasp holding the bandages together around the left side of his face, eyes fluttering shut as you slowly unwind them from around his head. He isn’t sure why he’s so nervous for this part—there are no scars on his face, but he still feels distinctly vulnerable, like he’s giving you a window into himself that might reveal more than he means to. He can barely breathe as he feels the last of the bandages fall to the floor, he can hear you push them to the side.

Still, he keeps his eyes shut, counting each second that passes. He’s anxious, can’t even bring himself to look at you until you cup his cheeks again.

“Look at me,” you say quietly.

Dazai does as you ask, he always does. He doesn’t know what he expects when he opens his eyes to meet your gaze; he prepares himself for the worst, for a twisted expression or thinly veiled pity, but he finds none of it. Rather, your eyes are soft and fond, tracing over his face, looking between each of his. He can feel the pads of your fingers gently brushing over his cheekbones, tracing absent patterns.

“You’re so handsome, Osamu,” you whisper, one of your hands sliding behind his head, intertwining with his hair. “Why do you wear them?”

Dazai doesn’t know how to answer that. His throat feels swollen at your words, eyes a bit misty and fingers trembling against your thighs. Instead, he breathes out, “Kiss me.”

And you do.

God, when you kiss him again, it’s so intense that it has his head spinning. He doesn’t know how long he sits there kissing you, back against the cabinets with you half in his lap. It could be a few seconds, or a few minutes, or a few hours—he has no concept of time whenever his lips are against yours. It’s only when you press your hand against his shoulder, murmuring for him to get up, that he finally pulls himself away from you.

Dazai forces himself to push up to his feet—it’s much more difficult than he thought it would be, nearly tripping over his own feet, but you follow him up to your feet, steadying him when he almost tumbles over. You bring your hand up to rest against his cheek, fingers gently toying with the edges of his hair. He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before he forces himself to look you in the eye.

“You’re so frustrating,” you say softly, but all of the fire is gone, replaced by that same soft look you’ve directed toward him—not him—hundreds of times before. “You are so frustrating, Osamu.”

His throat feels tight again, the sound of his name on your lips causing a wave of warmth to spread through him, the numbness slowly subsiding.

“I know,” he whispers, swallowing thickly, and you sigh, gaze averting to the side for a moment before you look back at him. He still can’t fathom what you might be thinking and it scares him.

But then you kiss him again, your other hand coming up to his other cheek and his hands fly to your waist, holding you close. You walk him backward, out of the bathroom and into the hallway. His back hits the wall and you press your body close to his, and this time it’s you whose tongue is darting out to brush his bottom lip, urging him to part his lips for you. He does, and he thinks he might be in heaven when he feels your tongue dip into his mouth, sliding against his tongue. His eyes flutter shut, rolling back just a bit when you trace the back of his teeth with your tongue before sucking gently on his bottom lip.

Your hands slide down from his face to his chest, over his jacket, down to his waist. Your fingers hook in his belt loops and Dazai groans as your lips ghost from his down to his jaw, breath shaky as trail slow, wet kisses to the sensitive spot behind his ear. He can hardly do anything but follow along as you guide him from where he’s been backed against the wall into his bedroom, dazed and entirely consumed by your touch. His head already feels a bit fuzzy, breath hitching as your teeth graze his pulse point, kissing down to the edge of his bandages and then across his throat.

He barely even knows where he is until he feels the back of his knees hit his bed and he topples backward until he’s laying flat on it. His chest is heaving, head dizzy and breath shaky as you straddle his waist. You don’t kiss him again and Dazai wants to drag you down for another but he can’t even bring himself to move. His body refuses to cooperate, nervous that he’s going to make the wrong move.

“Do you want this?” you finally ask after a moment, voice raspy as one of your hands squeeze his gently, as if to get his attention.

Dazai’s brows furrow a bit, lips parting to respond but for a second, no words leave them. You wait with the patience of a saint as Dazai tries to process what you’re asking and respond to it. After what feels like an eternity, he nods once. Of course, he wants it. You search his eyes as if to make sure he’s not just agreeing to agree, and once you’re satisfied, you continue you with:

“And do you trust me?” you ask softly, your gaze gentle as it searches his face for the next answer.

Dazai doesn’t hesitate this time, and he speaks as he breathes out, “With everything.”

He can’t tell what you’re thinking, but your expression is still soft and your touch is still gentle as you run your thumb over his knuckles. Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the gentleness you show him. You lift your hand to cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, throat spasming beneath his bandages as he waits for you to say something.

“Let me take the lead then,” you say quietly, his eyes widen a bit at your words. “I want to try something.”

He watches you carefully for a moment, guarded and studying you. He thinks this might be another first, and the thought alone makes him feel a bit giddy because he can’t recall any other life where you’ve ever been the one to take the lead like this, especially the first time the two of you sleep together. You look a bit anxious the longer he goes without responding, so he nods and says, “Okay.”

He’s pliant beneath your touch as you lean down to press your lips against his; he lets out a soft, muffled noise when he feels your hips shift, unintentionally grinding down a bit on his straining cock. He’s more hesitant this time in the way his lips move against yours, unsure of what to do with himself. His fingers twitch from where they're resting on the bed, itching to grab your hips but not wanting to make the wrong move.

This has happened every time one of you tries to take the next step, either he gets interrupted or he ends up getting cold feet because he’s scared of doing the wrong thing and making you uncomfortable. And it’s ridiculous because Dazai has so many memories, he should know at least vaguely what you like and what you don’t like but he thinks having the memories are a double-edged sword because he overwhelms himself if what ifs: what if he assumes you like something and you end up not liking it in this universe, what if he does something that you only liked after the two of you have been together for a while and you’re uncomfortable with him doing it because you’re not as comfortable with him. Maybe Dazai is just overthinking it all but how can he not when you’re involved. He wants everything to be perfect for you.

“Is this okay?” you whisper, separating your lips from his just enough for him to answer your question. Your breath mingles with his and Dazai can hardly think straight; it’s hot, dizzying, there’s something so intimate about it that it makes his body fuzzy.

“Yeah,” he says, eyelashes fluttering as he looks up at you. “It’s okay.”

You kiss him again. His lips move against yours desperately, needy, he’d be embarrassed if you weren’t matching his energy, but you are. He can feel your fingers tugging at his hair, your hips grinding down against his. Every time you start to pull away, he lifts his head from where it’s laying flush against the pillows, chasing your lips.

He needs you. His hands slide from your thighs to your waist, keeping your body pressed to his. He’s needed you since the day he came in contact with the Book and learned about you, since the day he met you at the club, maybe even since the day he was born even if he hadn’t known it at the time. He thinks his entire life has led to this, to the two of you being together; your souls have been entangled since the moment you were born and he isn’t sure how he ever thought a life without you was possible.

“I need you,” he gasps against your lips, hips jerking up just a bit to try to alleviate the pressure building in his lower abdomen, desperate to reach down and unbutton his slacks, but wanting you to make the first move.

Whatever nerves that have made him get cold feet all of the other times the two of you have tried to take the next stop are long gone. You don’t give him any time to wonder if he’s doing the wrong thing—the fingers of one of your hands intertwining with his dark locks, just tight enough to make him hiss into your mouth, eyes rolling back at the pleasant sting. Your other hand slides across his chest, even through his dress shirt, your fingertips seem to scorch through to his skin, leaving his body tingling everywhere you touch.

“You have me,” you tell him, breathless, and Dazai can’t bite back the noise that slips from his lips, wanton and obscene, borderline pornographic—if he was any more coherent, he might be embarrassed but he can’t find it in him. Not when he’s finally getting what he’s wanted after all of this time.

His hands fly down to his slacks, he fumbles with the button and zipper before yanking them down just enough to free his cock and he watches as you sit back on his thighs, eyes wide and lips parted as your gaze focuses in on his cock, watching as the leaking precum dribbles down his length, alongside the vein running along the underside of his cock.

“Please,” he breathes out, fingers biting into your thighs as he bunches your dress up to your hips, another low moan spilling from his lips just at the thought of what’s about to happen, lashes fluttering.

You don’t even take off your panties, clearly driven by the same desperation that he is as you slide them to the side and position yourself above his cock and Dazai gnaws at his bottom lip when he feels the tip pressing against your entrance. He can feel how wet you are already, so drenched that your slick is dripping down the length of his cock. His hips stutter up instinctively, but instead of pushing inside, his cock slides between your folds and he whimpers, arm flying to cover the lower half of his face. You don’t let him, fingers wrapping around his wrist to pull his arm from his face and pin it to the mattress above him.

“Don’t hide yourself,” you say softly.

Dazai thinks there must be stars in his eyes as he looks up at you. You’re so beautiful, lips parted as you pant softly, an adoring expression on your face as you look down at him. He loves you. He loves you, god, he loves you more than he’s ever loved anything in his life; he thinks that nothing the other Dazais ever felt for any of the other yous could ever compare to how he feels for you.

When his tip starts to push into your tight hole, all he can let out is another loud, lewd noise; his head falls back against the pillows. His ears are ringing, but distantly, he can hear you gasp. His vision is blurry as he forces himself to look up at you but Dazai thinks you look otherworldly with your head tilted back as his cock starts to stretch you out, lips swollen and wet from the kisses you’d shared. He thinks he must look insane, pupils blown wide and eyes wild as he tries to focus on the sight of you. All of the clever wheels that usually turn within his mind are crumbling.

His fingertips leave crescents in your thighs as you sink down on his cock slowly—too slow, it leaves his head dizzy as your warmth slowly envelops his length. He’s imagined this so many times before. Dozens. Hundreds. He has so many memories of the feeling of your body flush to his, thighs over his shoulders as he fucks you deep and slow, swallowing your moans, but he thinks that nothing compares to this, the sight of you above him, watching your body tremble and face shift as his cock stretches you out. He barely refrains from letting out a string of strangled curses, barely able to hold his eyes open to watch you.

You give yourself a moment to adjust, and when you do, you look down at Dazai. He thinks he must look a mess—chest heaving, breath erratic, eyes heavy and lidded and entirely glazed over—but he doesn’t care, not with the way your hand slides up his abdomen, fingers tracing patterns along the bandages covering his body. You look beautiful—you always look beautiful—but you look extra beautiful right now, and he thinks he could stare at you forever and never tire of it.

Experimentally, you roll your hips—it’s still slow, agonizingly slow—and Dazai throws his head back, another obscene moan spilling from his lips.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his fingers falling from your thighs to twist the sheets below him, knuckles white. “Feels so good. So good.”

You let out a hum that’s caught between a moan and agreement as you continue the slow rolls of your hips, hands sliding up and down his abdomen in a way that’s deceptively innocent and soothing compared to how his cock is dragging along your walls. His body shudders at the feeling of it, heat pooling in his abdomen so quickly that it has his whole body tensing as he tries to push it away.

“You’re so perfect.” Words spill from his lips, more of a babble than anything else as you lean down to ghost your lips over his jaw, nibbling over the bandages covering his Adam’s apple. It bobs beneath your teeth as he lets out another shaky noise. “S’like you’re made for me. I’d do anything for you. Anything. You know that, right? Anything you want, it’s yours.”

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, clawing at the sheets and occasionally reaching for your thighs, and he doesn’t know what to do with his body, hips jerking up at an erratic pace, like he’s trying to meet your pace but his body simply can’t match the slow rolls of your hips, desperate for more. He doesn’t know how you’re so put together—maybe you’re not, he can see through a blurry vision how your lashes are fluttering with each roll of your hips, breath shaky, but you’re just not as far gone as he already is.

“Anything?” you murmur, and he can feel your lips curve up against his neck.

“Anything.” His breath hitches, fingers reaching for your hips as he rocks his up into you, a desperate attempt to get you to pick up the pace. “‘d give you the whole world, burn it for you, anything you want, I’d give it to you.”

His hands slide up from your thighs to your waist as you lean down to press your lips against his in a deceptively innocent kiss. He tries to chase your lips as you straighten up but you don’t let him, one of your hands curling around his throat—not choking him, but firm enough that it goes right to his cock, lips parting in a silent moan—while the other braces back on his thigh.

He thinks that nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of you picking up the pace. His breath hitches, he chokes over a moan, stars sparkle in his vision as the tip of his cock presses deep inside of you. You sigh out his name and Dazai thinks this might be the closest he ever gets to heaven: you on top of him, cock buried to the hilt in your cunt, the sight of your blissed out face above him as his head spins.

“Oh, fuck,” Dazai cries out, back arching and hand flying to cover his face again but the hand you have on his thigh flies forward to snatch his wrist before he can, pinning it back above his head. Dazai’s eyes roll back, you’re leaning over him entirely now, leaning most of your weight on the hand that’s pinning his wrist but the new angle adds pressure onto how you’re squeezing his neck, paring his airways just enough to make his lungs burn. “More. Faster, fuck, I-ah-”

His voice falls off into another moan, head falling to the side to press his cheek against the pillow. He thinks drool is starting to pool at the corner of his lips but he doesn’t care, he can’t even think at this point, too lost in the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock fucking deep in your cunt, your soft moans and gasps, lost in the feeling of your tight walls clamping down on his cock, the warmth, the wetness, your fingers digging into his wrist and the sides of his neck. He wants to tell you that he needs more but the words are garbled, entirely unintelligible.

He forces his eyes back open, feeling the tears spilling over his cheeks just from the intensity of it all, the intensity of you. You’re gentle with him even when your hand is wrapped around his throat and his cock is splitting you open—he can feel the soothing circles you rub with your thumb, he can see the way you’re searching his face to make sure he’s okay. Dazai is just so overwhelmed that he can’t stop the way his next moan breaks into a sob; acutely realizing just how deprived he’d been of any type of care or love before meeting you, and forcibly coming to terms with the fact that he is never going to be able to go without this again, without you again. He’d known it to some extent before this, the thought of losing you and the light you bring him has made his stomach churn violently but this…

He’s torn from his thoughts when you suddenly stop the rolls of your hips, halting the spreading heat in his lower abdomen desperately. The noise that escapes him is something caught between distress and betrayal, dark eyes wide as he looks up at you questioningly, but the expression on your face makes his breath catch. Your hand slides up from his throat to cup his cheek, your other hand releasing his wrist so that you can hold his face between your hands, thumbs wiping away the tears spilling over his cheeks.

Distantly, Dazai recognizes that he’s still choking over sobs and that’s probably why you’ve stopped and that only rips his chest apart more because of course, you’re still putting him above you—even when you’re mad, even when you’ve just fought, when he’s betrayed you in a way that should be unforgivable, you’re still kissing away his tears and putting aside your own needs to take care of him

He doesn’t deserve you. Not in any universe, but especially not in this one.

He thinks he could stay here for eternity. Fuck the rest of the world. Fuck the Port Mafia. Fuck his plan. He just wants to stay here with you, your lips brushing his, sharing the same sliver of air. He leans into your touch, groaning against your lips when he feels your walls spasm around him.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes out, unsure if you can even understand him. “You’re so-”

His words fall off into another moan, and he can’t control his hips as they thrust up sharply against yours, another string of incoherent curses escaping his hips as your breath catches and you straighten back up, head falling back as you gasp his name.

Your nails dig crescents into his upper thighs through his bandages as you brace yourself back against them. You move your hips again—faster, this time, harder, and Dazai thinks his head is in the clouds. He’s so deep inside of you that he can feel everything, jaw falling slack as heat spreads through his body too rapidly for him to get control over. He wants to throw a hand over his mouth to muffle the lewd, pitched moans spilling from his lips but he can’t drag his hands from where they’re clawing at your hips, desperately trying to help you meet him with each thrust.

“I-hah-shit, I’m gonna-fuck-”

He slurs out your name and several obscenities, trying to warn you that he’s going to cum when he feels his cock twitching inside of you and his abdomen tensing, but you only lean down to press a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips and Dazai is gone. He wants to watch you, he tries, but he can’t hold his eyes open, they’re half-rolled back as he chokes over moans of your name, hips stilling as he cums deep inside of you. His body twitches, expression twisted as he presses his head so hard into the pillow that he thinks he might permanently indent it.

His head is spinning, lungs burning, sweat beading at his forehead and hair matted to his face—he thinks he’s never cum so hard in his entire life; all of the nights he spent alone, desperately trying to fuck his hand to the thought of you in attempts to mimic how you’ve made all the other Dazais feel, to give himself some semblance of the pleasure you’ve brought him in other lives to hold him over on particularly lonely nights, they’ve never felt like this.

You don’t stop, even as he squirms and lets out jumbled pleas beneath you, body shuddering at the overstimulation but you’re too lost in chasing your own high now. He spasms beneath you, nails digging into your thigh as you fuck his cum deeper inside of you, bouncing on his cock desperately. He doesn’t care that the sensitivity is pushing his body to the brink, letting you use him however you want if it means he gets to see you like this.

Dazai’s head feels light, pins and needles pricking his body—he thinks he might pass out but he forces himself to hold on, enraptured by the sight of you on top of him with your eyes half-rolled back, lips parted and throat bared to him. Your tits are half-spilling out over the low-cut of your dress and Dazai thinks you’re fucking divine. The only holy thing in this godless world. He wants to spend the rest of his life worshiping you.

“I’m gonna-” you gasp, head falling backward as one final roll of your hips that has your clit grinding against his pelvic bone sends you spiraling over the edge.

Dazai wants to sear the image of you behind his eyelids, watching as your nails drag against his thighs, drawing red lines even through the bandages, back arching, head tossed back—your body is trembling violently as you cum on his cock, expression twisted and entirely blissed out, sobbing over his name. He chokes and gasps at the feeling of your cunt tightening around his sensitive cock again, jaw tight and spots dancing in his vision as he’s so abruptly pushed over the edge a second time, the coil in his abdomen tightening and snapping all within the span of a few seconds.

He’s still reeling when he feels you slump forward onto his chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck, shivering in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He’s only half aware as he instinctively brings his hands up to rest on your hips, rubbing soft circles of your hip bones to try to soothe you.

He shudders when you press a kiss to his neck right at the edge of his bandages, and then tilt your head up to press another on his jaw. One of your hands comes up to caress the back of his head, fingers carding through the dark locks in a way that has his eyes drooping shut.

“We’re not done with this conversation,” you finally say after a few moments of silence, voice soft, breaking the silence. Dazai stiffens a bit, lips parting to respond but no words leave them. “... but let’s just lay like this for a while first, okay?”

He lets out a shaky breath, still not entirely convinced that he’s not going to lose you, so he lets his eyes flutter shut as he nods. He may as well bask in this for as long as he can, and if you notice the way his fingers dig just a little deeper into your skin after your words process, you don’t mention it.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “okay.”

Dazai wakes up the next morning and you’re nowhere to be seen. The bed is frighteningly cold next to him and his heart is instantly in his throat. He doesn’t waste a second before he’s sitting up in bed, looking around, eyes wild and heart racing. He doesn’t settle down, not until his eyes fall upon where you’re sitting curled up on the chair of the desk he never uses, eyes trained on the dark clouds outside the window, the beauty of the sunrise wilted by a morning storm.

“His intention was to make me leave you.” You’re not looking at him, but you must have heard him sit up. “Fyodor Dostoevsky. The things he told me, they were to make me leave you.”

Dazai doesn’t move an inch, throat swelling. He forces himself to ask, “What did he tell you?”

He isn’t sure if he wants to know.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say—Dazai thinks that it definitely does, but he bites back the questions that rise to his tongue because you’re clearly not about to budge on your answer. “Who is he?”

“A monster,” Dazai bites out, bitterness seeping into his tone as he leans back against the headboard, eyes still trained on where you’re curled on his chair, gaze distant. “You have to stay away from him.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on seeking him out,” you say it so dryly that Dazai nearly finds humor in it. Nearly. The smile that rises to his lips is mirthless at best. You turn to look at him, finally, and Dazai finds only cool indifference on your face; the fondness, the softness, the gentleness from last night are all gone. He wonders if you regret it, but he doesn’t let that thought linger, it’ll only make him sick. “... He doesn’t seem like the type to give up.”

“He never is,” Dazai murmurs, ignoring the brief, questioning look you direct toward him, mind drifting off to all of the Russian’s incessant attempts to take you from him in all of the other universes. “Did he tell you what his plan was?”

Dazai doubts it, but maybe there was something he said to you that shed some light to it.

“He didn’t have to,” you say quietly. “He wants Yokohama, for whatever reason—couldn’t figure that out, I think he’s looking for something—and clearly, he has to get through you to get it. He thinks the best way of getting through you is by taking me away from you first. That’s what I’d gathered from how he was talking at least, what he was saying about you, the way he was phrasing it. I’d put together enough on my own during the night to fill in the blanks. He told me things about what you’d done as… what you’d done as boss of the Port Mafia—things you’ve done to enemies… to allies. He told me that I’d see the real you as soon as you realize that the meeting he set up was a farce; that the mask you put up would crumble and I would see you for the demon that you are.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, jaw tight as he averts his gaze to the window—he’d played right into Dostoevsky’s hands. He can hardly bring himself to look at you; he wonders if you do see him differently now that the cloud from the night before has worn off, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Now’s not the time anyway, there are more pressing matters.

“... He’ll come after me again, won’t he?” you ask quietly. “Getting me to leave you willingly didn’t work. If he’s so set on me being the trigger to your downfall, then he’ll come after me again.”

He would. As he always has. Of course, Dostoevsky would try to get to him through you, he’s tried it in every universe, and Dazai hadn’t been careful enough. He hadn’t been smart enough. He’d known this was going to happen and was still arrogant enough to believe he could somehow prevent it. He was a fool, and he was a fool at the cost of your safety. He doesn’t know how to respond to you, he doesn’t want to confirm your suspicions, he doesn’t want to admit that this is all his fault, that he knew this would happen and was selfish enough to pursue you anyway.

“... I’m scared, Osamu,” you finally say quietly, and you suddenly look a lot smaller from where you’re sitting on his desk chair, hunched over with your knees tucked to your chest. “I’m really scared.”

Dazai’s heart claws up to his throat and he pushes himself out of bed, still dressed haphazardly in his suit from the night before. He makes his way over to you and kneels in front of you, hands curling around your ankles as he looks up at you.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he tells you, voice a bit more raspier than he intended for it to come across as. “I don’t care what I have to do to ensure it, how low I have to stoop. I will not let anything happen to you, do you understand?”

Your eyes meet his, and he can’t help but notice that doubt still riddles your gaze as you search his face, as if you want to believe him but can’t bring yourself to. A pit starts to grow in his stomach, wide and gaping as he realizes that this is all really about to happen, and one mistake on his part could lead you to the same fate you’ve met in so many other worlds because of him.

Finally, the doubt slowly clears as you let out a soft breath, nodding, and Dazai inhales sharply, laying his forehead against your shin as he lets his eyes slide shut.

He won’t let it happen. Not again.

again there was NO plot development in the smut - you guys didn't miss out on anything, pinky swear. i restructured the scene to fit the only notable scene (bandage removal) into the part before the smut, so if that felt a little forced, that was why </3 it wasn't supposed to be there. i was struggling trying to figure out how to move it upward a bit. the only arguable "plot" development was dazai letting go of his control freakiness to let her take the lead

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu smut #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x you

411 notes · View notes

heyidkyay · 3 days

Text

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Five (The End)

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors note: The ending! The final chapter of Matty and Mouse's story, my heart is actually breaking. Honestly loved writing these two, as well as baby Teds, and I hope you lot loved them too because all the love this series has gotten means so much, it feels surreal. Hopefully I can write a few blurbs of them or something in the future but this is it for now. So thank you for all the support!

Warnings: EMOTIONS, Matty and Mouse way of thinking, little bit of angst, referencing to past hurts (such as not making it to a certain age), smut, unprotected sex, self-conscious characters?

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Matty wouldn’t have been able to say what the time must have been if anyone had dared ask. He’d been propped up against the headboard, still in his t-shirt and jeans, his hand never having fallen from the top of her head even after she’d finally worn herself out and drifted to sleep.

His stomach churned pitifully at the reminder, at how hard she had cried. Gasping and sobbing into that fucking pillow she still held onto, all whilst clinging to the skin of his wrist with an unforeseen strength. As though she’d been pleading in her grip of him, asking him not to go just yet.

That hold had diminished a tad during the night, she’d always been a fitful sleeper– had kneed him one too many times between the legs for him to not know that fact– but this time around… She’d been almost deathly still, aside from the frowning expressions that clouded her face whilst she’d dreamt.

He continued to sit there though, watching on as the moon sunk so that the sun could slowly climb its way into the irradiating sky, giving way to that first hint of morning.

He hadn’t slept a wink, not really. Nodded off for a second or two once or twice before he’d found himself jerking awake again. Couldn’t seem to stay down for much longer than that.

And why would he? When he’d all but destroyed the woman laying beside him. This proud, strong and resilient woman that he’d been so idolised by, so enraptured with. The one person in his fucking forsaken life that had appeared so utterly invincible.

She was a survivor. A mother. A friend.

And she was kind. Funny. Resilient.

Then she’d gone and met him, hadn’t she?

And he’d ruined her like he did everything else.

Practically broken her.

Torn the last pieces of her further apart.

The thought alone made him feel sick to his stomach. Aching with this unbound need to grovel and cry at her very feet, to make her see enough sense so that she could understand just how much she didn’t need someone like him. That she was strong enough to do it all alone. That she didn’t need to cling to him as she had, like rust to a buoy long lost at sea.

Guilt.

That was what that sticky feeling growing in his gut was. That overwhelming malady that was eating him up from the inside out, making him feel so utterly sick.

He had come over to see her. So that they might be able to talk things out. He’d come to apologise. To make things right between them. But instead, what had he done?

Pushed.

He’d pushed and fucking pushed, forcing her hand enough so that she had cracked and he’d been able to slip past those high guarded walls of hers.

And now here they were.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it though– not all of it at least.

To have held her again… It had calmed some sick twisted part of him.

To have just seen her and heard her voice, no matter how pained and angry it had been. It was like the world around him had softened for a split second. Become all grainy.

Matty glanced back over to her sleeping form, to the way she had bundled the duvet high up over her head so that the tip of her nose could bury itself in the slight curve it made, her chin tucked away.

His hand was still lost somewhere in her hair, thumb cascading out over her temple every now and then, but he didn’t dare pull away. Not until he had no other choice in the matter.

So he carried on, staying there and lying awake. Thinking over the night before. Thinking back to her devastated expression, to the wary look her eyes had held. To the way she hadn’t spoken a word. To how she had simply forced her cries into silent sobs.

Suddenly, he was stuck on the very realisation that she hadn’t been reacting to it all, to everything she’d been feeling, to what had happened, but rather retreating. Hiding away whilst, somehow, still allowing him to be near. To stay. To watch over her.

A soft sniff had him blinking, regaining composure quick enough so that he could catch the scene play out before him.

…

I was embarrassed by the previous night's events. By the fact that I had been so determined to keep Matty at arms length and then failed entirely. That he had seen me so weak and well– broken.

But it had all come to a head, I supposed.

I’d been keeping up appearances ever since everything had fallen out, putting on a brave face and a smile for anyone and everyone who could see. It was only ironic, I guessed, for Matty to have been the one to shatter that image completely.

Still, I swallowed at the sight of him still sitting there beside me the next morning, seeming as though he hadn’t moved an inch throughout the whole night, and shoved all that shame back down.

“Thought you’d be gone by now.” I heard myself say as I flipped over onto my back so that I could stare up at the ceiling and at the sun drawn lines that stretched out across it.

I listened to his quiet laugh, to the way he shuffled slightly on the mattress, though I didn’t dare look back at him. It was too early and I already felt as though he’d seen enough of me. “Was just hoping for a chance at one of your brews, is all.”

Something in me shifted at his easy words. At the fact that he’d chosen to try and make me smile, instead of calling me out on all my messy bullshit.

“And if I’ve got no milk?” I replied, just because this was easier than arguing anymore.

I felt him shift, probably shrugging if I knew him as well as I thought I did. “Shops open soon enough.”

The corner of my mouth twitched, although I continued my staring contest with the blank space sat high above us.

“Who says I’ll let you back in?”

He did laugh then, a deep rumble of a chuckle that was rough from disuse and a lack of sleep. Matty sniffed, “Just gonna have to try my luck then, I ‘spose.”

It was only in that next second that I realised something, something that had me inhaling sharply as Matty’s fingers dragged their way through my hair to tuck a frizzy strand behind my ear, before then pulling away entirely.

My eyes slipped closed at the sudden loss and my hands curled into tight fists beneath the duvet at the very thought of him having stayed that way throughout the night. Of having held me in the only way he’d been able to, as though he believed it might have kept some small part of me together. Only pulling away now that he could see that I wasn’t going to crack beneath the weight of everything I still held.

The bed shifted and the sound of his feet hit the floor.

From the corner of my eye, I watched him as he stood.

Matty moved throughout my bedroom with an ease I didn’t even own, picking up the hoodie he’d thrown over my desk chair all those days ago, the same one I hadn’t allowed myself to touch, let alone wear.

I almost told him not to take it, but withheld. Only just managing to bite down on my tongue as I watched him shrug it on. It was his afterall.

“Gonna nick your keys,” He told me whilst he shook the hood out around his neck and dragged it up over his tousled curls, “Only be about ten minutes. You can shower or whatever, not worry about letting me back in.”

I could only nod in return and he smiled, pausing in the doorway to look back at me for a second or two before he nodded, almost fretfully, and turned away.

I waited, lying there still enough that I was surprised I didn’t go stiff from how tightly I was wound, until I heard the familiar rattle of keys and then the squeaking hinges of the front door. It closed behind him so quietly that had I not been holding my breath I might not have even heard it.

I was rubbing at my face not a minute later, hauling back tears leftover from last night's show, before I heaved an anguished scream that was more air than actual sound from my lungs.

Forcing myself to calm– and not dissolve into fucking hysterics– I willed myself up, noting that I was still naked as I kicked the covers away. Another thing I’d gone and bared for him, I supposed. As though it wasn’t enough that I had already cried myself to sleep with him just sitting a hand’s stretch away, but that we’d actually gone and slept together. After everything.

My head was warring with my heart as I dragged myself up out of the dirtied sheets, throwing on an old tee so that I could shove them into the washer before he got back. I forced myself into the shower quickly after, letting the hot water roll off my skin.

I must’ve been stood there for a long while, drowning under the heavy spray, because it was the sound of the door that broke me from the faraway place I’d found myself in whilst staring at the tiled walls.

Blinking, I wiped the water from out of my eyes and forced myself to wash, lathering up my hair and going through the motions, before I finally stepped out.

I didn’t dare peer into the mirror, not all too desperate to see the state I’d worked myself into on my way out. Choosing to head back into the bedroom instead, padding over towards the dresser to pull out some clean clothes and only noticing the fresh sheets that had been pulled onto the bed when I’d finally dressed.

The towel I’d been holding to lightly dry my hair slowly dropped to my side at the sight. I opened my mouth to call out and probably ask– But I stopped myself before I could. Ask what? I wondered. Why? Then shook my head at the very idea.

Doing the smart thing by shutting my mouth, I dumped the towel in the hamper and pulled on a pair of socks, taking a deep breath before deciding to venture further out into the flat.

I found him in the kitchen.

He didn’t peer over his shoulder but he must’ve heard me putter in because he greeted me: “I know I said I’d be quick but I passed by that little bakery on my way back– that hidden gem we liked that one time? Anyway, it just smelt fuckin’ devine.” He accentuated that last bit, making me smile slightly, “And I just couldn’t not, you know? Been a while, but they had those danishes you like in the window. Got a couple to share as well as some other bits.” Matty explained, head still halfway in the bag he’d obviously brought back with him, a pint of milk sat alone on the side, “And a sausage roll for Teds– kid was eating them like he was gonna starve a while ago. So I just thought...”

Matty shrugged, as though that in itself was no big deal, him thinking of my son, and turned around to glance my way with a display case of baked-goods now lining my kitchen counter.

I snorted softly at the sight, jerking my chin out towards the lot of them, “Just thought you’d bring back half the shop?” I teased and was all too pleased when he chuckled around the beginnings of a smirk.

He was quick with his quip, “So I’m guessin’ you don’t want one of these danishes then?”

I narrowed my eyes at the sheer nerve. “I never said that.”

Matty’s nose scrunched with his next shrug before he moved to snap one up for himself. “Sort of sounded like it, sweetheart.”

I shook my head, biting down on my growing grin as I slid across the kitchen to grab at one too.

I hummed around the first bite I took and all but moaned at the flavour of it, blinking my eyes back open only to find Matty wearing the most delighted little grin. I rolled my eyes but didn’t grant him the gift of an actual reply, though it didn’t seem to waver him either way.

We seemed to move seamlessly around one another after that; him filling up the kettle whilst I placed two mugs down on the countertop; the clink of a teaspoon being shot into one cup as I moved to grab the tin of tea bags; Matty switching the radio on like it was second nature and me smiling away to myself as I poured the milk.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek once we’d finally settled, he’d chosen to take up room at the table whilst I carefully stored the remaining pastries away for later.

I wanted to talk, to try and hash things out again, because this felt right to me. Him being here. In my dingy little kitchen, small but still so crowded with all sorts of bits and bobs, as well as a plethora of crayon coloured drawings. And he just, well, Matty just fit here. Or maybe that was just me hoping. Ignoring the bigger warning signs so that I wouldn’t have to feel so alone again.

Was he lying to me?

Had he relapsed?

Did he cheat?

It didn’t seem like he’d done any of those things. There was no guilt in his gaze and yesterday… I’d never seen him like that. Even whilst stressed or overwhelmed, Matty had never cried. He’d never looked at me like that either, as though he was slowly breaking before my eyes.

He’d said his piece, he’d promised, and then he’d apologised.

But.

What if I was just making a bigger mug of myself here?

Letting him back in. Giving him my forgiveness. Having him in my bed.

Was I saying that it was okay? Was that the impression I’d be giving? That he could lie and walk all over me and that everything would still be fine.

It left the world feeling a little more tilted than it had been only moments before. It left me questioning everything, once again.

…

“What are we doing, Matty?”

Matty was slow in looking back over at her, fingers tapping aimlessly away on the kitchen table to some song that had been playing on the radio.

“What do you mean?”

She huffed, a quiet chuckle full of disbelief rippling through the air, “I mean, what are we doing here?”

“The fuck if I know.” Matty replied, just as soft as that laughter she’d given him, shrugging at her from across the kitchen. Because what was he meant to say to that?

She just shook her head in turn though, completely unaware to the way he was now watching her. Taking her all in. The way the outline of her body glowed whilst bathed in the morning light that shone in through the windows. Of how her slowly drying hair curled at parts in the easy breeze that crept by. And how endeared he was by the way she never failed to tuck her joggers, or pyjama bottoms, or whatever else she’d decided to throw on whilst at home into her socks. It made her who she was, all these mindless little tidbits that he’d gathered over the last year, that he had observed.

“We can’t just– move on. Carry on like nothing’s happened.” She sounded frustrated. Sad.

“Why not?” It was almost sarcastic, the way he said it, but his voice held a whole lot of truth to it. He wanted this and he wanted her. And he’d be a fucking fool to deny it.

And what would the world make of the two of them anyway? Cause she’d gone and claimed the very same thing last night, hadn’t she?

The pair of them, fools.

“‘Cause everything’s a mess.” She answered back, staring at him now, almost defeated.

Her shoulders were slumped and she wore that sad smile she often favoured when she was at a loss, slowly being eaten away by a horde of thoughts she couldn’t seem to control.

He watched her fidget with the hem of her sleeve, peering down at it.

“Because after everything, Matty,” She breathed, voice soft even in the quiet of the kitchen, “I know that I love you and I don’t want to lose what we have left here. I don’t want that ruined.”

Matty’s mouth worked itself into a small smile as his eyes dragged between her own, trailing over the short scar that crossed the bridge of her nose, remembering the night she’d teared up when he’d reached out to caress it.

“I’d rather be ruined by you than not have you at all, Mouse.”

She blew air from out of her nose in a soundless chuckle, cheeks rounding around an amused grin for the briefest of seconds before her eyes skittered away from him again. “That meant to be all poetic?”

He gave her a curt nod and then just grinned, legs fanned out before him. “In the job description. Musician, remember?”

“Oh, do I.” She quipped back just as sarkily, leaning against the counter as she continued to watch him from under dark lashes. Matty reckoned he’d let her shove him under a microscope if it got her to let him stick around. If only for a while longer.

A silence passed between them.

“I love you.” Matty murmured, so sure of that fact, “That much I know. But I won’t ask you for anything more than I already have, you make the choice. You can hold the cards. And whatever you decide, I’ll accept.”

Her face hardened a fraction, as though she were steeling herself for an argument or something other. Hiding how underprepared she’d been for his words perhaps. Matty only hoped that she’d heard the truth in them.

“No fight? You’ll just accept it and leave?”

Matty didn’t dare blink but dipped his head in slight acknowledgement. “If that’s what you want.”

The woman before him just continued to stare him down and for once, Matty couldn’t read her face. Had no idea what the hell she might’ve been thinking. Or feeling. Or what plans she was currently devising in that clever head of hers.

“Okay.”

It took all of his sheer effort not to react to that one simple word, even though she had practically just gone and ripped his fucking heart out of his chest.

Actually, he supposed that was another lie he’d told. She’d done that months ago, on the day they’d met and went and ruined him for good.

I’d rather be ruined by you.

It’s what he’d said.

He couldn’t go back on it now.

“Okay.” He answered her, voice just barely above a whisper that he wasn’t sure she heard over the squeaking of his chair legs.

And then he was standing in her kitchen for what he supposed would be the last time. He saw her grip the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening, gaze unstraying, but she didn’t say another word.

They stared at one another for what felt like the longest minute on Earth and Matty could practically feel the ground shifting beneath the soles of his feet as he realised that now everything would really change.

His breath caught, the thought hitting him like a shit ton of bricks and he knew then that he had to leave before he broke down and took it all back. Before he was a fucking mess of a man on her kitchen floor.

He turned on his heel and made for the door.

“Where’re you going?”

Matty froze, entirely rooted to the floor.

He continued to stare resolutely ahead, scared to move in case she had changed her mind. In case she was saying what he thought she was.

“Your tea’s gonna go cold… and I thought you could pick Teds up with me later.” She was going for nonchalant, aiming and almost hitting, but she missed the mark by just a hair. “He was with Ads yesterday, you know, and she dropped him off at nursery this morning for me. Just figured.”

Matty pivoted on his heel, slow going and hardly daring to steal a breath as he did, before he was looking straight at her. At the way her teeth had sunk into her lower lip, the careful sheen her eyes had taken on, and then the singular strand of hair which had fallen from behind her ear. He was across the room and on her in a second.

Firm hands held her face, thumbs guarding either cheek as he bored everything he couldn’t seem to say into the next look he gave to her. Wanting her to see it all. To know, or simply understand.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

She laughed.

“Wanna bet…” Her words trailed off into a heavy breath and Matty could feel the strength of his grin as he leaned in close, nose bumping against hers, his eyes flickering over the entirety of her face, attempting to take her in all at once.

There was buzzing under his skin, he could feel it in the tips of his fingers, all the way down to his toes, and heard the way it hummed throughout his chest.

It was then that he realised he couldn’t see an end without her in it.

He wanted everything with this woman.

Everything.

And that should’ve been the most terrifying thought.

Because once he had believed he would never see the end of sixteen, puking into the bushes outside his bedroom window and not having the strength to make it that extra mile. To let mum know that he was alright.

Then it had been nineteen, that first real stint in hospital. He’d been scared to shit and alone, the darkness hiding all the groans and upset of the other patients with real issues.

But nineteen had come and gone, so then he figured twenty-one. Maybe twenty-two? Definitely twenty-five… Had to be.

Twenty-eight had been both the end and the beginning for him.

But even without everything that had been holding him back after that, the drugs, the people, the money. After he’d gotten clean– proper clean– he’d never really thought far enough ahead.

To a point where he might feel settled or want to start building a place for himself in the world. A real place, one amongst family and friends, not just amongst admiration and music– as much as it had helped shape him.

He’d never once pictured this. A person.

Girlfriends? Yeah. Flings and one night stands? Sure. But a person that would be his. Completely. That he could share half of himself with?

No, he couldn’t say that he’d ever seen that coming, that something like this would have one day been in the cards for him.

And Matty wanted so badly to sink his claws in and cling on for as long as he possibly could, for as long as she’d be willing, and then even more so. Until somebody else came along and inevitably unhooked him. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t dare. Because this was too perfect to go and destroy like that.

He’d always claimed to be a selfish man, but in this regard, all the love he had worth giving would be spent on her. On the days they’d spend together. On meals and dates. On flowers and apologies for when he eventually messed up again, because he knew himself too well to deny that fact. He’d spend it on giving her security, on rebuilding her trust. He’d spend it on her son. On the little boy he’d become so besotted by.

And if it ruined him, if it killed him? He reckoned he’d be okay with that.

He’d be content. Finally having something to be proud of.

“What are you waiting for?”

Matty eyes tracked the length of her face, fingers tangled in her hair whilst his thumbs pressed into the grooves of her temples. What was he waiting for?

As soon as he thought it, Matty was pressing against her once more, stealing all the breath from her lungs in his haste to answer her.

It was slow, the kiss; soft in the way his lips captured hers for only a few seconds before he was pulling away again, hands shaking where he still cupped her cheeks.

He wanted to make sure that this was what she wanted, but he could see it in her face, that surety, the warmth. And he wouldn’t question that, maybe in some regards he’d be willing to give her anything, but here and now, with this, with wanting her, he would as selfish as he fucking could be. He’d take all that she would give him.

The next kiss was full and deep– urgent.

Matty’s tongue slid into her mouth, hands falling aimlessly away from her face to whatever part of her he could touch, feeling no ounce of remorse over it seeing as she was on the exact same journey, her fingers winding their way up and over every inch of him.

She kissed back with just as much force, colliding with him in a way that almost felt tortured, as though trying to make up for all the time they had wasted. Not just over the past few days, but the weeks and months they’d spent dancing around one another, pushing and pulling. Despairing this game of tug of war they had started.

It ended here.

Matty continued to lean up into her, pressing her into the counter as she clawed at the hoodie he wore. Matty felt her nails catch on the skin of his back, whilst he wrapped his arms around her hips.

“Baby,” He whispered breathlessly and then moaned when her mouth closed around his bottom lip, teeth grazing against the flesh before they then bit down. She rocked into him and Matty swore his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

He reached up a hand to cup the back of her neck so that he could mouth his way across her jaw and down her collar, favouring the skin just beneath her ear. “Need you.”

It was both an admission and a plea.

And then she was grabbing at his face too, forcing his mouth back up to meet hers, breath sweeping over the cut of his jaw. She tangled her fingers in his curls and Matty had the barest second to register that he was actually staying. That she was letting him back in.

His body jolted forward on impulse, arms snaking their way around her waist to splay out over her lower back, pulling her that much closer. Her hold tightened too, hand moving down his neck, thumb pressing lightly against the pulse point there.

Matty stepped nearer and she welcomed him in, legs parting to let him step between them, kiss turning hungrier as she arched her back up and away from the countertop. He wanted all of her.

She let go of his hair to press in harder, pulling back only so that she could lick his mouth back open and drive her tongue inside. She murmured his name against his lips, once, twice. And then Matty’s hand was between the blades of her shoulders and holding fast. He moved, spinning them outwards, over towards the kitchen door.

She let out a sharp sound that was half gasp and half moan, but all love and desire when they knocked into the arm of the sofa in the living-room and fell back against the soft cushions.

When they broke apart it was only out of necessity, the need to catch back the breath that had been forced out of them on their tumble down. They shared an airy chuckle.

Then he watched on as she stretched out further up the settee, fingers caught on his wrist so that she could tug him along with her. Their hips aligned as Matty crowded her again, elbow digging into the chair's arm to hold him up above her. He hovered there, their faces and foreheads pressed together, noses lined up side by side. Matty wished to savour every detail of her.

He kissed her again, slower, softer. His lips moved against hers so gently that it was almost reverent, worship-like, and she matched him toe for toe, pouring her whole soul into it, gifting him all the sweetness that she possibly could.

Matty prayed to whoever might’ve been listening that he could have this.

He supposed someone must’ve heard him because she said, “Stay,” in this careless whisper, in a tone that was more breath than anything else. And his heart stopped.

And then he was nodding. Almost frantically.

He kissed her, the tip of his nose brushing the underneath of hers as he lifted his head to nod one more time. “Long as you’ll let me.”

She whimpered and he groaned, forehead pushing against hers once more as she lifted her hips up to meet his.

Then they were both lunging for clothes in the same instant, nearly laughing at their clumsy eagerness to get undressed, the sofa being of no help.

Matty pushed back to sit up for a moment, luring her up gently with him so that he could slide her shirt off over her head. She returned the favour, letting him trail a finger over the curve of her shoulder and down her arm once they were done before she was on her back once more.

“So beautiful.” He felt the need to whisper, even though there was no one else around to hear it. She glanced away.

Matty wouldn’t have that though, a careful hand coming up to coax her eyes back to him, hoping that she would hear the sincerity in his words. She was the best thing he’d ever seen, no matter the time of day. No matter how horrible she felt. He’d never been so enamoured by another person, or so utterly lost in his desperate need to make it known.

His thumb caught on the corner of her mouth and he smiled. “I meant it.” He assured her and felt her shiver beneath him as his words fanned the skin of her cheek, “Beautiful.”

She swallowed thickly, he saw the bob of her throat before he slid his palms down her sides to unhook her bra, dropping it off to the side so that he could mouth along the length of her torso.

He continued to murmur, tone so full of admiration as he attempted to press the words into her skin, hoping that this way they would somehow sink in.

By the time he reached the hem of her trousers she was writhing beneath him, eyes pleading, so Matty made quick work of ridding them, allowing himself to look her over for just a second. She truly was beautiful.

“Matty,” The sound of his name forced his eyes back up and he was thrown by the dazzling smile she then wore. She took one of his hands in hers, linking their fingers, “I don't have all day, baby.”

He merely shook his head and laughed, figuring that she must’ve seen the many emotions that played out across his face afterwards because she tightened her hold on his hand and motioned him closer so that she could kiss him again.

He took her there on the settee. Worked her over slow and hard, his gaze only ever wavering when they slipped shut or he buried his face alongside the skin of her neck. His hands wandered whilst hers clung tight, leaving him marked and gasping. She murmured the whole while, legs wrapped around his middle to keep him as close as she possibly could, so that he could drive that bit deeper. Matty had never heard her so vocal, just muttering on and on, only ever stopping to cry out or jolt. But even then her words would either come out all warped or in a sharp shout. It only proved to spur him on though, fingers digging in and bruising the soft sides of her hips and thighs.

He could hardly think, listening to her pleads and commands. Such a demanding little thing.

The heels of her feet dug into his flesh as her arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, holding on, sinking her nails into his skin deep enough to have him hissing. He didn’t dare tell her to let up, just attempted to pick up his pace, hand falling away from the crease of her thigh to drag along her folds, needing her to let go before he could.

“Close?”

He was met with a choked gasp: “Yeah.” Followed by a cascade of assent, breath wetting the cut of his jaw as her hands jumped up to curl themselves along his shoulders.

Matt felt himself nod, but was hardly even aware of it, gaze trained on her face, the watering of her eyes, the pink swell of her lips. “So good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

His words just made her strengthen her already too tight hold and then she was writhing beneath him, tear sliding down the side of her face just as her head tilted far back against the cushions and she moaned.

He wasn’t far behind her, but she continued to work her hips to the best of her ability whilst his thrusts became more and more desperate. He only noticed that he was clenching his teeth when her fingers came up to thread through his hair, slackening the muscles there in his face just as his head fell forward, hovering a centimetre or two above the dip in her collar.

Matty felt lips press against the side of his head, soft but there. “I love you.” She said, and he couldn’t even respond, lost in the sensations that overwhelmed him as he jolted forward, every muscle in his legs tensing as his eyes slammed close.

His breathing was harsh and laboured when he finally managed to pull out, falling into the little space she created for him on the side of the sofa. He draped an arm over her middle, not giving much thought to the damp sheen on their skin or the mess between her thighs. They could have this for a little while longer.

Matty hid a smile, nosing along her shoulder as he better settled into his position before he kissed the sweet skin there. Her back was to him now, him wrapped up around her body, their legs entangled, and he thought back to those few words of hers.

Back to that night she’d first said them.

To when she had last said them.

He started to trail a finger over her side, up and then down before he decided to trace each letter one by one. He heard her huff a laugh when she finally caught on, but he pressed on, writing more.

When she patted his hand and shifted, he frowned, wondering if he’d pushed too far, too quickly, even though she’d been the one to say it first. But she just rolled around to face him and grinned at the face he must’ve worn.

“You’re an idiot.”

His brow pinched but he still felt himself smile, “What?”

She laughed all lovelylike and he blinked at the sweetness of it, wondering when he’d gotten so used to hearing such a pretty fucking sound.

He poked at her side, prodding, “Go on, tell me.”

With a fond roll of her eyes, Matty watched the stretch of her smile soften before he stilled slightly at her slow touch, the drag of her finger which trailed over his stubbled cheek. “Just such a you thing to do.” She teased him quietly, fingertip reaching up to skim over the bridge of his nose and then his eyelids.

Matty shrugged, narrowing his eyes a tad but unable to truly hide the small smirk he was wearing. He moved his hand back to her hip, tracing another word that had her huffing and shaking her head in sudden exasperation. Then another. And another.

Her eyes were wide when he chanced a glance up at her and she swallowed at the earnest expression he gifted her. “I mean it.” He whispered into the tiny slot of space that rested between their heads.

He watched as her stare tracked along his face, flicking from one eye to the other. “How can you be so sure?”

Matty shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed up against the settee, a small smile dancing on his mouth. “Never been sure of much, but I know this.”

She quirked an eyebrow, “This your way of askin’?”

Chuckling lightly, he shook his head in turn. “Nah, gotta think of something good. Big.” He grinned at the snort she gave, but continued on anyway, fingers simply brushing against her hip now, “Figure we need time to get there again, sort through this mess.”

“Again?”

Matty hummed, thinking back to the bout of songs he’d been working on over the last few months, to the days G had smirked and asked about some of the lyrics he’d written down. “Been playing on my mind.”

There was a small curve to her brow now, an almost frown but not, Matty knew her well enough to know that she was just a little thrown by his answer.

“How long?”

Her whispered ask had him thinking, but he couldn’t really give her an exact time span. He’d hardly even realised it himself. “I don’t know, but for a while.”

She breathed out a quiet little laugh, eyes darting between his own once more, “So one day then?”

Matty hummed happily, face breaking into a slow going grin as one of his hands came up to cup her face, thumb soothing her cheek. “One day, Squeaks,” He murmured to her, “I’m gonna marry the shit out of you.”

Her cheek warmed beneath his touch but she laughed, shaking her head ever so slightly whilst her eyes looked down before shooting right back up again. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Wrinkling his nose a tad and curling his upper lip, Matty just shook his head, “Nah, don’t reckon so.”

“You say that,” She all but sang before she was kicking up a storm in his hold, quickly trying to get away from the hand that had come up to run a rhythm down her side, tickling her into shutting that daft mouth of hers.

“Yeah, I do fuckin’ say.” Matty chuckled, grinning madly as he continued to grab at her, teasing her bare skin with his tormenting touch. It was with that in which Mouse went sailing, rolling away from him in an attempt to escape, and dragging Matty with, him still so caught up in her that the pair of them went tumbling to the living-room floor.

Matty felt as though all the air in his lungs had been kicked from his chest once the world had stopped spinning and finally righted itself. He realised all too quickly what had happened, a heap of hair splayed over his face as he spluttered.

“Fuck.” He managed to drag out, forcing a huffy laugh from his chest.

He watched on as she struggled for a second, him having cushioned her fall, and she pushed up onto her palms so that she could glare down at him, not entirely unhappy. Matty snorted and raised his arms in defence.

“Don’t blame me.”

If it was at all possible, her eyes cut sharper. “The fuck I won’t! Why’d you start tickling me?”

“Because you never know when to shut up!” Matty laughed, wheezing a little as he did and bending a knee so that he could plant one foot firmly on the floor, his hand rested on his chest.

She just rolled her eyes though as she battled to sit up, spine curving once she had. Matty reached out to trail the length of it, pulse jumping at the shiver he watched run through her.

“How’d we even go from you being such a sap to us on the floor?” Mouse huffed, reaching up to grab at a throw that had been resting on the nearby armchair. Matty watched through a lazy gaze as she bundled it into an oddly shaped ball of sorts before turning back to him. “Fucking all sticky now too.”

He smiled stupidly, folding his hands behind his head, unashamed as he was, to better protect it from the hardwood floors.

She stood with a roll of her eyes, on unsteady legs mind– something Matty felt all too pleased with– and caught sight of his smirk, and before he could even see it coming the bundled blanket was being thrown at his head. He yelped girlishly and floundered to shield himself from it but it still managed to catch the side of his face with just enough force.

He listened to her hearty laugh as he tossed the thing back at her legs, frowning when it missed and her footsteps began to trail away. “Oi, where do you think you’re goin’?”

“To shower!” She called out from over her shoulder just before she could disappear through the doorway, “Again!”

Matty huffed a small snicker to himself and resorted to simply staring up at the ceiling whilst he waited, but before he could get too comfortable there she was calling out to him again.

“So you coming or what, Healy?”

And fuck if that didn’t have him scrambling up off of the floor to join her. He smiled when she merely laughed at the eager sight of him rounding the hallway and he found himself wondering how the fuck he’d managed this as she turned on the tap and pulled him under the water with her.

He must’ve seemed a little out of it though because she was tilting her head at him when he peered over at her, her hands at his hips. “You good?”

Matty hummed quietly, dipping his head to kiss her once more because he could. “Yeah, just happy.”

And wasn’t that a thought. Him happy.

Mouse grinned at him, eyes lighting up with it as he stepped on closer. Her hold tightened, “Me too.”

Me too.

66 notes · View notes

thirteenis-myluckynumber · 2 months

Text

Wedding vows

Man, choosing a gif is harder than I thought *cries*

Pairing: Nie Huaisang x f!reader

Word Count: 4856 words

Warnings/tags: fluff, just love all around, Chinese wedding ensues, suggestive content, smut, this one is nsfw minors dni

Notes: (C/N)-your clan's name, (Y/N)-your name

A/N: This is the 2nd part of Proposal. You can read this is as a stand-alone, but some context might be lost. I can't believe its done, have a feast, dears!

Special thanks to this post, for providing information about Chinese weddings. I did take some liberties, but at least I did it knowingly.

It's been almost a month now that you were living in the Unclean Realm. Your brother agreed, begrudgingly at first, to let you go before the wedding because he saw how painful it was for you to stay away from your soon-to-be husband. In the end, he saw it was the right decision to let you get used to your new home beforehand.

Just one week before the wedding basically everything was turned upside down in the Unclean Realm. Both you and Nie Huaisang took part in the planning as there were no close relative of his who could take on the task. He, of course, had an exceptionally good eye for decoration, and while he was busy with clan leader's stuff, you coordinated the disciples and servants when needed.

You quickly got used to the almost colourless picture of the Unclean Realm and appreciated the calmly elegant black-grey-silver colours of your new home. The vivid red and gold decorations of the upcoming wedding, hinted with a little bit of silver, almost felt weirdly out of place now. As you entered the main hall to check on the servants' progress before retiring for the night, you stopped in awe at the entrance. Almost everything was in place now, only some adjustments were needed here and there. A huge smile spread across your face, as you couldn't help but imagine yourself entering the hall on Huaisang's arm, dressed in beautiful red and every guest's attention on you.

Speaking of Huaisang, you wondered what he was doing, as you haven't seen him all day. You decided to check on him before returning to your chambers. As you passed down the hallways, the servants were busy lighting some lanterns for the night. The sky already started to darken, and they politely greeted you as you passed them by. The guards also haven't paid attention to you, you were allowed to move freely, and they quickly got used to your presence after you moved in.

When you approached Huaisang's door, you knocked lightly to let him know of your presence but didn't actually wait for him to open the door himself. With guards present, his door was unlocked so you figured he hasn't retired for the night yet. You entered and instantly noticed his sitting form by the desk. He seemed to be completely engrossed in something, which you assumed was official documents. A light, calming incense could be smelled in the air of the warmly lit room. As you stepped closer, you noticed the not-so-neatly scattered papers on the table and some even around it on the ground. You also noticed a brush and ink, probably for writing letters. His usual fan also sat discarded on the edge of the table. Yes, he was definitely working all day, you concluded.

You stepped next to the table on his left side and shot a quick glance at the paper in front of him. It was clearly clan business. He only became aware of your presence in that moment, and he looked up at you with a tired but happy smile playing on the edge of his lips.

"Miss (C/N), it's so good to see you! Only you can make this miserable day better!"

"Oh, Huaisang, I'm sorry you had to work all day! I stopped by the main hall, and everything is almost completely ready now. You should check it out tomorrow. What's all this anyway?" You asked gesturing at the scattered papers all around his desk.

"You wouldn't believe it! Almost all of this are letters offering support, inquiring about accommodation, or asking for details about the banquet. There are also official papers about finances and clan politics. And I have to sort these out before the wedding! Why does everybody want a piece of me?"

"Hmm, I think," you pretended to think hard while you sat down next to him on the ground, "you are quite a catch."

He let out a disbelieving sound, but you continued, counting on your fingers.

"You are wealthy, the leader of one of the four big clans, a clever and intelligent man, you are a very talented artist, you have great taste in clothing, you do what you need to but don't meddle in other's business, you are funny and kind. Oh, and have I mentioned exceptionally handsome?"

"Ahh, stop, stop, stop, stop!" He protested, nose scrunched up and hands held out in front of his chest.

You let out a short laugh because of his adorably childish attitude and turned your body so you were sitting face to face now. You reached out and grabbed his hands. So warm and soft, they fit perfectly into yours.

"I'm serious," you said looking into his eyes.

And he believed you. His face straightened out, his eyes searching yours, lips parted only a tiny bit in awe, but you couldn't help but notice. He also noticed where you were looking, his eyes wandering down to your lips in turn. When your eyes met again, you could see the question in his eyes and you leaned closer to him, a barely noticeable movement. But that's all he needed. The next moment he leaned in, and his lips were on yours, hands moving around your waist to pull you closer. You gasped, one hand touching his chest for purchase, the other reaching up to cradle his cheek. His kisses were slow and sensual.

"I don't think you should praise me this much. I might become overly confident," he whispered into your lips between kisses.

"Well, surely we don't need another peacock."

You let go of each other's lips and burst out laughing, your foreheads touching the whole time.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The day of the wedding arrived quickly. As you were getting ready with help of your maids, you listened to the commotion outside as guests continued to arrive. Everyone had to settle in their temporary rooms and led to the main hall where the wedding will take place. Once everyone was here the ceremony started while food and drinks were being prepared by the servants for the following banquet.

You were quite nervous because basically the whole cultivation world will witness your union. At least the other three big clans, the Lanling Jin, the Gusu Lan and the Yunmeng Jiang were obviously invited, and some of the smaller clans too thanks to your side. Jiang Wanyin was Huaisang's old friend, while Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao were Nie Mingjue's sworn brothers so you were sure they will be attending. Lan Wangji apparently made up some excuse, so he didn't need to come and if you were honest, you liked it this way. His achievements certainly deserved respect, but he was famously uninterested in, even disgusted by celebrations which involved lively music and drinking.

Putting on the wedding dress was the quickest part of the whole procedure as braiding your hair in the Nie style and preparing your make-up took a few hours. Finally, your head was covered with a red veil to complete the look. Soon you were being led out to meet your husband the entrance of the main hall. Nervousness rose in your chest, but it subsided somewhat when you arrived. You were signaled to stop, and you felt warm hands gently wrapping around yours.

"Huaisang?" Your words came out as barely a whisper because somehow you felt like the wedding atmosphere shouldn't be bothered by talking.

"I'm here," he answered in kind and squeezed your hand a little as reassurance before wrapping a soft red silk ribbon around your wrist. It was to ensure you won't trip as you could barely see anything through your veil, and it also symbolised your union.

You only noticed the soft music and light chatter in the background when you started to walk up the few stairs leading to the main hall. But the hushed voices completely stopped when you stepped into the hall. Thankfully you knew how the room was prepared, so you remembered that you only had to take a few steps before you reached the pillows placed on the ground for you to perform your bows. Huaisang also made sure to make measured movements and helped you the best he could in signalling when you needed to stop walking and kneel down.

Being led by Huaisang while you almost couldn't see anything felt strangely romantic to you, like he was the only person in the whole world you could trust and to whom you could give complete control over yourself. This vulnerability felt frightening at first as you could feel every guest's eyes on your back, like realizing a dangerous predator is stalking you in the forest. But soon your senses focused completely on Huaisang. You could almost feel his warmth radiating through the cloth that bound your hands together.

You bowed in sync, first to pay respect to Heaven and Earth, second to Huaisang's parents, and finally to each other. You stood up and felt your legs shaking from relief and happiness. You were married! You still couldn't believe it. Soon you heard the commotion as your guests stood up and drank a cup of liquor to your marriage. One by one they approached you to congratulate you and wish you health and happiness. Huaisang held your hand in his and you could feel his palm was sweaty from nerves, but you didn't mind. You thanked the guests for their well-wishes and also said farewell. You recognized some of the voices and you were glad that your husband will be taken care of by people like Lan Xichen and Jiang Wanyin during the banquet.

The few hours you spent alone, sitting in silence on your now shared bed in Nie Huaisang's room felt like a relief after the ceremony. So far everything went well, you completed the wedding without any mishaps, and you hoped that everything goes smoothly at the banquet too. Time flew by surprisingly quickly while you meditated. Your focus was disturbed by muffled voices coming through the closed door. When it slid open, you could hear the finishing sentences of the two people's conversation outside.

"Don't be nervous. Everything will be fine," you recognized the soft and calm voice of Jin Guangyao.

"Thank you, San-ge," replied Huaisang, and closed the door behind him as he stepped into the room.

He didn't move for a few seconds and the anticipation in you grew stronger and stronger. You were patient the whole day, but now you just wanted to finally see him, see him in his wedding robes. He walked closer, ever so slow, hesitation palpable. In the dim light of the candles, you could see his silhouette when he stepped in front of you. You felt it when he finally grabbed your veil at the sides and with a quick motion, he lifted it up, letting it float down to the floor.

You were not one of those old traditional couples in the sense that you already knew each other before the wedding. Yet now, when both of you finally looked at each other, it felt like seeing a heavenly being for the first time. Wide eyes, lips parted you marvelled at each other's beauty. He has seen you in your dress during the ceremony, but your face adorned with tasteful make-up and your hair decorated with jewelry, braided specially to signify you were now the wife of a Nie took his breath away. You, on the other hand, had to take in his full visage. His red robes, with gold and black woven in, were of a thinner material than his usual attire, so it perfectly accentuated his snatched waist and wide shoulders. The guan in his hair were gold and it had a bolder style than his usual silver ones, just like the braids. When your gaze stopped at his face your breath hitched in your throat because of the open love and desire you saw in his eyes.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he finally spoke, his voice low.

"I...," you had to clear your throat after not speaking for such a long time, "we should drink the alcohol," you managed to say, standing up and walking to the table nervously.

You poured the fine liquor into two small cups and handed one to Huaisang. He took it gently and waited for you with his arm held out. You joined him, holding your own cup, and you intertwined your arms as you drank the alcohol with one gulp. When you finished you looked at each other, arms still linked and smiled, feeling the tension of the day leaving your body. You almost knocked your heads together as you wanted to put the cups down back on the table at the same time.

"We should sit down," he suggested, but the suggestion sounded like a tentative question.

You nodded your head. He must be tired after entertaining your guests, you thought. Luckily, he was not drunk so his friends must have kept a close eye on him. He could also direct some of his qi to get rid of the alcohol, but that also exhausted him after a while. You knew what was expected of you on your wedding night, but you didn't want to pressure him if he felt too tired after such a long day.

So, you sat on the edge of your bed in silence for a few moments before you felt his hand reaching out for yours. You flicked your gaze over where your hand rested on the bed between your bodies. His hand was not much bigger than yours but still big enough to cradle yours, and you always marveled at how soft and warm they felt. You noticed how his other hand were playing with the jade pendant hanging from his belt and you moved your free hand to gently lay on his thigh. You intended to soothe his nerves, but the moment your hand connected with his leg, you felt his muscles twitch. You looked up into his eyes and what you saw made your breath quicken. His dark brown eyes looked almost completely black now as his pupils widened. For a split second his gaze moved down to your mouth, and you did the same in return. You noticed how his lips relaxed, opening only the slightest amount and you found yourself wanting to kiss him so bad. When your gazes met again, he leaned towards you slowly, still holding your gaze, gauging your reaction.

And your lips connected.

It felt like fireworks exploded between you. You felt how his hand pushed yours into the mattress as he leaned in closer, his body weight shifting to his arm between you. His other arm sneaked around your waist to pull you closer, as he always did when you were kissing, only this time the kiss was different. It was much more forceful, brave, and charged with desire.

When you let go of each other's lips for a moment, both of you were breathing hard.

"I love you so much. You are the best thing in my life," he breathed into your lips, and you swore you saw his eyes shining.

"I love you too, I love you-," you said in return, the last syllable muffled as he captured your lips again.

Sitting with your feet on the ground while your body turned towards him started to feel uncomfortable, so you moved to sit on his lap, not letting go of his lips or hand for a second. When you settled your weight on his thighs, he moved his hands to your cheeks at first, then moved them down to your neck, tracing your collar bones with his fingers. You grabbed onto his robes and let go of his lips with a sigh. His hands moved away immediately, thinking his touch were unwelcome.

"Don't stop. It... felt good," you said nervously and smiled shyly at him.

This time he moved his hands to your waist, where the sash held your garments together.

"May I?" He asked seriously, his voice trembling a little.

You gulped and nodded your head rapidly. His touch was featherlight, you almost couldn't feel it when he reached for the opening of your sash and carefully removed it. The material of your robe loosened, and he moved to remove your outer garment entirely. You realized you were sitting on the skirt, so you needed to stand back up if you wanted to remove the whole thing.

"I need to get up to get this out of the way," you said to him when he freed your arms and only your undershirt remained on the upper half of your body.

You quickly realized that part of his nervousness came from the fact that he didn't want to scare you away, so you warned him of your intentions beforehand. He nodded and reluctantly let go of you as you stood up from his lap.

The room was warm, but you still felt a slight chill as your outer robe descended to the floor. The coldness faded when you looked into Huaisang's fiery gaze and the air suddenly felt impossibly hot as he stepped closer to you. His hands moved to your shoulders, gently caressing them and slowly moving towards your chest. Your breath quickened, his light touches searing hot through your thin undergarment. A shiver ran through your whole body as his hands gently cradled your soft breasts and he sucked in a sharp breath when your nipples hardened under his thumbs.

"Please, Huaisang, I want to feel your touch on my skin!" You felt a little embarrassed about how whiny your voice sounded, but you wanted to show him how much you wanted his touch.

He leaned in to kiss at your jawline and neck while his hands deftly removed your undergarments. As your clothes pooled around your ankles, he took a step back to admire your naked body. You suddenly felt self-conscious, and your hands instinctively moved to cover yourself up. Huaisang noticed it and took your hands into his to stop you.

"Don't be shy. I still can't believe I've managed to get myself such a beautiful and intelligent wife" he said, looking into your eyes the whole time.

You wanted to say something witty and clever, but the moment felt too sincere for it, so instead you answered:

"Don't forget that I wanted to be yours."

He stepped closer to you again, his mouth finding yours. He kissed you like a drowning man, never wanting to let go of you. His hands roamed over every part of your body he could reach and you wanted to finally touch his skin too. Your hands tugged on the lapels of his dress, signalling you wanted it off. He broke the kiss when he felt a more insistent tug.

"Take it off!" You managed to breath out and he chuckled at your insistence.

"You want more of me, huh?" He asked with that cocky self-assurance he only used with his closest friends back at Cloud Recesses.

You crossed your arms across your chest with a defiant look and you must have looked funny standing like that while being stark naked. But it worked, and Huaisang looked at you as if he were saying "Fine, fine," and reached for his belt. The strength gradually left your arms as you watched him undress, and by the time he only had his white underrobe on, your arms were hanging by your side.

When he moved to remove it too, you couldn't just stand there anymore and stepped in front of him, grabbing onto his hands. Your sudden movement startled him a little as his focus were completely on his clothes. You reached for the cloth that bound his underrobe together and undid it slowly, looking into his eyes the whole time. He moved his hands out of the way and followed the path of yours with his eyes as you reached up to his shoulders, pushing the light fabric down.

And he stood there only in a pair of white trousers, chest bare, skin like pristine jade, accentuated by his dark hair cascading down his back. You couldn't help but marvel at his beauty. As a healer you saw many men and women in various stages of undress, mostly injured soldiers. At those times your interest was not particularly focused on their looks, but you remembered how strong and muscular they were. Now, as you were looking at your husband's bare upper body, you realised that you never really found them attractive. Compared to them Huaisang had a soft body, but his chest was nicely toned and you could see the lean muscles of his arms.

You reached up and traced his collar bones with your fingers then moved downwards and stopped on his chest. You could feel how strong and fast his heart was beating under your right palm. His skin was so soft, smooth and warm, you couldn't help but tenderly caress the shape of his pecs, noticing how his small nipples stood at attention from your touch, much like yours before. You slowly slid your hands down to his stomach, following the made-up path of the cute little moles that were scattered everywhere on his skin. You felt the muscles tensing under the skin of his stomach as you went even lower, stopping where a soft patch of dark hair disappeared under the band of his underpants. As you ran your fingers over his happy trail, loving how the soft hairs tickled your fingertips, you heard Huaisang biting back a whiny moan. Your eyes moved back to his face and oh, what you saw took your breath away. He bit down on his lower lip, eyebrows furrowed, as he watched with half-lidded eyes where your hands were going.

You moved your hands out of your line of sight and your gaze lowered past the waist of his pants. He was already hard enough to form a nicely visible tent in his pants. You realised there was no turning back if you took the next step and it scared you a little, but also made you incredibly excited. You wanted it and you wanted him, but it still surprised you how boldly you reached down and caressed him lightly through his pants. This time his moan was deeper, more guttural, and he almost literally fell on you as he rested his forehead on your shoulder. Your knowledge was mostly medical about how the male body worked, so the late-night conversations with your already married friends came in handy. You felt proud about how much your touch affected Huaisang. Your next caress was a little firmer and you felt him twitch under your palm. Gathering his every strength, Huaisang stepped back and pulled you towards the bed.

"(Y/N), please, it's been too long, and I fear I won't last long if you keep this up. I want all of you tonight. Can I show you how much?"

"Okay," your voice was barely a whisper, and you let yourself being laid down on the bed.

Huaisang quickly got rid of his remaining garments and carefully removed the intricate guan, now only a black silk ribbon keeping his hair together. As he climbed on top of you, you instinctively opened your legs to make room for him as he rested his weight on his elbows next to your shoulders. This way he was the only thing you could see, but there was nothing else you wished to see at this moment. A large amount of his long hair fell over his shoulders and caressed your cheeks. He was so beautiful as a soft smile played on his lips and you reached up to kiss him. It quickly turned heated and Huaisang soon left your lips in order to kiss all over your face and neck. Then he moved lower and grabbed one of your breasts with his hand while he occupied his mouth with sucking on the other nipple. Your sighs of pleasure encouraged him to move his hand lower while his mouth kept playing with your nipples.

At first your hips shied away from his touch but when his deft fingers found the most pleasurable spot between your legs you couldn't bite back a moan. His mouth left your breasts as he moved to carefully watch your reaction while his other hand kept your legs in place.

"You are doing amazing, you are so wet already," he praised and slowly pushed his index finger inside you.

"Huaisang...," you moaned his name as you watched his finger disappear inside you.

This was something you already tried yourself on lonely nights but the fact that it was his finger made the experience completely different and so much better. He moved his finger slowly in and out of you and when you felt like you couldn't take it anymore, he removed his hand. You whined at the sudden loss of contact, but he moved back on top of you and kissed the complaints off of your lips.

"Are you ready?" He asked, and you were never this sure about anything in your life.

"Yes, I want you, please."

He reached down and guided his cock to your entrance, rubbing it over your wetness, using your combined arousal as a lubricant. Even this little delay and the feeling of his hot member so close to where you wanted it made you squirm. He was looking into your eyes the whole time and you saw how he had to fight he urge to close them when he started to finally push inside you. He was slow and careful, and when he was fully seated inside both of you stopped to catch your breaths. The stretch was unfamiliar but not unpleasant. You moaned when you felt his cock twitching and your insides tightened around him in response. Now it was his turn to let out a shaky breath as he let his forehead rest against yours. He simply couldn't hold his composure anymore, so he slowly started to pull out and push back again. At first you felt a tiny prick of pain, but it soon faded and was replaced by pure pleasure. And he was quick to react to your signs, so when you reached up and grabbed onto his hair to find support, he knew he found that special spot. Soon you were a moaning mess, being so close to your release and he was no different, his skin shining from sweat and strands of his hair sticking to his cheeks and neck.

"a-Sang!" You repeated over and over, and finally hearing you calling him that, it was enough to push him through the edge.

He sealed your lips in a desperate kiss, one of his hands reaching down to rub your clit, his other arm shaking from the effort of keeping his body from fully collapsing on top of you. The feeling of his desperate thrusts, his hand on your most sensitive spot and his shaky moans calling your name finally triggered your orgasm. You felt your inner walls clenching impossibly tight around him and you desperately clawed at his back, not really caring at that moment if you were leaving marks on his skin.

He collapsed on top you, the last of his strength leaving his body as both of you tried to catch your breath. Your vision slowly cleared, and the ringing disappeared from your eyes as you subconsciously caressed his head and shoulders. He burrowed his head into the crook of your neck, and you swore you could hear him practically purring like a cat.

The air in the room slowly started to dry off the sweat from your bodies and it soon made you both shiver. Huaisang rolled off of you with a series of unintelligible whines and went to fetch a cloth to clean yourselves up. He wetted it with the prepared warm water and carefully cleaned your most sensitive spots. He couldn't help but leave some lazy kisses around your hips and thighs in the process and the feeling of his gentle touches were almost enough to lull you into sleep.

He quickly cleaned himself up too and climbed back into the bed next to you, pulling the luxurious covers over your naked bodies. You moved to lay your head on his chest, positioning your ear over his heart, its steady beating made you feel completely safe. He sneaked his arms around you, pulling you even closer. You looked up at him and you smiled at how his hair was a complete mess now, yet he looked so handsome in the faint glow of the candlelight, his eyes shining with so much love you thought your chest will explode because of it.

"Thank you, tonight was incredible," you said as you drew small patterns on his chest with your fingers.

You swore you could see his ears redden even in the faint light, and you planted a soft kiss on his pecs before you fully relaxed in his arms.

"I love you a-(Y/N), get some sleep now," you heard him say before you fell into a blissful sleep.

THE END

ps. I have a half written morning-after snippet, let me know if you are interested and I'll finish it.

#the untamed x reader #mdzs x reader #untamed x reader #nie huaisang x reader #nhs x reader #the untamed fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #untamed fanfiction #the untamed #mdzs #nie huaisang #mdzs nhs #x reader #reader insert #fanfic #writing #writers on tumblr #fan fiction #fan fic writing

80 notes · View notes

misc-obeyme · 1 year

Text

MC's Bad Day Part 1

I had a really bad day last week, including several minutes where I put my head down on my desk and ugly cried lol. I'm just lucky I work from home so the only one who was there to bear witness was my cat. Anyway, I wanted to write some headcanons of the brothers reacting to an MC who breaks down crying after having a bad day. I'm sure this has been done many times before, but writing it actually did make me feel better, so mission accomplished! And I thought I might as well share it here. I'll do the side characters upon request, so feel free to drop me an ask if you're interested in that. (Or any other requests, really.)

GN!MC

Warnings: Crying and generally upset MC.

Lucifer

Senses your distress even if he doesn't hear you at first. As he reaches your room, your sobs make his heart ache. He knocks, but doesn't wait before letting himself into your room.

Gently holds your chin to tilt your face up. Who did this to you, MC? He asks it quietly, but there's a heavy threat running through the words.

You insist that there isn't anyone to blame. You're just stressed. Lucifer understands, but he still very much wants to kill something. Keeps that thought to himself, though, as he can tell you're suffering enough already.

Sits down beside you on your bed and puts his arms around you, if you want him to. Will let you cry on him for however long you need.

Mammon

Another one who just somehow knows that something is wrong. Doesn't even have time to listen to you cry before he's bursting through the door.

Falls to his knees in front of you and puts his hands on your tear stained cheeks. What's wrong, MC? What can he do to fix this?

You explain that you had a bad day. If you choose to tell him about it, he'll start crying in sympathy while pretending he's not. But if you don't want to talk about it, he's okay with that, too.

Will try to distract you and cheer you up. Takes you to his room to watch movies or will take you for a drive in his car. Mammon will do anything to see you smile again.

Leviathan

You have plans to play video games with Levi and you know you'll feel better if you go hang out with him. The second you're in his room, though, you break down into tears.

He panics at first. What's wrong, MC?! What can he do?! Hovers around you in uncertainty and confusion.

You tell him you had a bad day. Something about the way you say it makes him go into protective mode. Doesn't even realize what he's doing until he's in demon form with his arms and tail wrapped around you.

You return his embrace and while he'd normally be embarrassed, he can tell you just need to be held right now. Keeps you close until you're feeling better then distracts you with video games.

Satan

Notices all day that something is off about you. Comes to your room after dinner to check on you and hears you crying.

Now normally we know Satan is likely to lose it, but you sound like you really need someone by your side right now. You're pretty much the only person for whom he can even think about controlling his wrath. So he pushes that anger aside and goes into your room.

Sits by your side and puts a hand on your back. You look up at him, see his serious expression, and collapse into his arms. He doesn't even need to say anything.

Hush now, MC. It's going to be okay. Whatever is happening, you'll work it out. He's right beside you now. He won't leave you to deal with this alone.

Asmodeus

You're in Asmo's room, letting him paint your nails. He's chatting away about this and that. Everything's fine until he smiles at you and then you lose it.

At first Asmo thinks you're crying because it just hit you how beautiful he truly is, but he quickly realizes that you're actually having a bit of a breakdown. He pulls you into his arms, running his fingertips down your back soothingly. Cry it out, MC. Sometimes you just need to let go like this!

When you're feeling a little better, he goes into pamper mode. Bubble bath, face mask, massage, whatever you want, he's on it. He's going to make sure that you let out all that stress!

Won't let you leave until you're feeling almost like yourself again. Listens to you talk about how you're feeling while taking care of you. By the time you're done, you feel much better.

Beelzebub

Beel notices when you don't really eat much at dinner. You seem to be feeling a little down. Goes to your room to check on you and hears you crying. Knocks and patiently waits until you tell him he can come inside.

Gives you a bear hug. Lifts you slightly off your feet on accident. You can't help but laugh a little through the tears. He sets you down gently, but doesn't let go.

Beel is our gentle giant, so he just stays still while you let everything out. His quiet presence is more than enough to bring you comfort. He will hold your face and wipe away your tears.

When you're finally feeling better, he will tell you that you should have something to eat. You barely touched your dinner, MC. Food will make you feel better. Trust him on this.

Belphegor

Despite being a little punk most of the time, Belphie is actually pretty good at noticing when you're not doing well. He can tell that you're having a rough day, so he insists you come up to the attic with him for a nap.

You get all comfortable, but before you can even think about actually sleeping, you start to cry. Belphie gives you his pillow, letting you cry into it for a while.

It's okay, MC. He could tell something was going on with you. Let it all out. Curls himself around you while you cry.

You do eventually stop and as he expected, you're exhausted. He's here to comfort you until you both fall asleep.

masterlist | part 2 with the side characters | Thank you for reading!

#obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #this is complete self indulgence #misc writes

983 notes · View notes

coveredinsweetpea · 9 months

Text

A/n: I let the whore out for this one 🤭 and I'm not even ashamed? I wanted to make it more filthy but I decided to not push it 😬 but lemme know if you liked this one!!! I'd love to write more!! Summary: just the story of perv!bouncer!Eddie x dumb!ice-cream vendor!reader and the little white lie he used in order to get you where he wanted you. (KINKY) 4.6k Warnings: so first off, perv!Eddie (he's a bit of a meanie) and dumb!reader, ok? He takes advantage of you, oopsie. Humiliation, degradation, lying and gaslighting, pet names, groping, very strong D/s vibes although not established, spit kink, a hint of dubcon? (only if you squint). Needless to say, 18+!! (also I wrote this in one go don't @ me if it's shitty)

You shouldn't have worn heels - it was late at night, you were running late and while the rain had stopped, the mud still managed to splash its way up to your ankles. And come to think of it, the skirt hadn’t been that good of an idea either, not for the metal concert you were attending at least, but you were two blocks away and it was too late to turn back now.

Before entering the venue, you stopped at the corner, fixed your hair and your shoes with a napkin you found around your purse, and prayed to the gods that even though the concert should have already started, the bouncer would still be there to give you a ticket and allow you inside.

“Eddie!” you exclaimed relieved. He was just about to stand up from his little booth when you burst inside the building, and his eyes widened when he realized who you were.

While it truly hadn’t been that long since you last saw each other, it surely felt like it. The last time you saw him was at his graduation, one week after you finished junior year. Currently, almost two years had passed since you yourself were done with school.

“Y/n, wow. I haven’t seen you in ages, how are you?”

“Good, good, I’m good” you huffed, getting ready to fish the money for the ticket out of your purse. “You work here?”

“Yeah. I’m a bartender but something came up and our guy had to leave for a bit. I’m just covering for him.”

“Oh, ok. Cool”

“Did you come for the concert? It’s about to start”

“Yeah, mhm. I know I’m a bit late.” you said, picking out the dollars out of your purse one by one. When you decided your bag should be cute and fit your outfit rather than actually be useful, you didn’t imagine you’d have to embarrass yourself like this. “Here’s 7 dollars-” you mumbled handing him the money, “Wait, I have three more, just give me a second”

“Y/n…” Eddie said as he hesitated to take it from you. “It’s 30 dollars.”

“30 what?” you gasped. “I thought it was 10”

“It was 10, until like an hour ago. You should’ve bought it in advance, tickets are always more expensive at the door”

“You must be kidding me” you cried, “I can’t pay 30$ for a concert of a band I barely even heard about”

“Then don’t” Eddie chuckled, “It’s not that big of a deal, it’s only going to last one hour tops”

“Yeah but my friend likes the vocalist. I promised her I’d be there”

“Then pay?”

Instead of going back to explaining why you really didn’t feel like doing that, you straightened your back and grinned. “Eddie…”

“I’m not interested," he laughed in a heartbeat, fully aware of the tactics you might want to try on him.

“Free ice cream for the whole month!” you belted, grabbing his shoulder to help you get your point across. “You know you can’t say no to that”

“I never even bought ice cream from your shop, Y/n, no”

“Two months!”

“Baby girl, buy the ticket or wait for the concert to end. I can’t just let you in”

“Yes, you can” you scoffed, stomping your foot against the floor. “Since when do you care about the rules?”

“Since my job is at stake, sweetheart”

“Who’s gonna know? Right, no one. So pleeeeease, Eddie! Pretty please with a tiny and sweet cherry on top?”

He was thinking about it, it was obvious the wheels were turning. His eyes traveled along the length of your body as he licked his lips, and that gave you hope. But unfortunately, when he looked back up into your eyes, he shook his head, “I’m sorry, I can’t”

“You can” you pouted, “You just don’t want to”

Eddie tapped his chin, “I guess that’s true. There’s nothing in it for me, so…”

“Asshole!” you giggled and hit his side. “Just tell me what you want, you got it”

“Anything I want?”

“Anything!”

“Anything, anything?” Eddie laughed.

“Just say it, you jerk”

But he didn’t really say it. What he did however was lean behind his little desk and then stand back up with a small camera in his hand. With one eyebrow raised, he motioned with his head to one of the small back rooms to the side, and that should’ve been your cue to at least try offering him ice cream again.

"I can't believe I'm doing this" you nervously giggled as you placed your purse on one of the chairs you found laying around. More things crossed your mind while you took your jacket off but you kept quiet, only turning around to face Eddie when you were left in your tank top and skirt. "This is stupid. I'm being stupid, right?"

"It's just a little bit of fun" he smiled, moving the camera from one hand to the other. "You absolutely don't have to do it if you don't feel comfortable"

"Comfortable getting naked for a stranger to take pictures of me?" you laughed in disbelief.

"Are you?"

His raised eyebrow and the confidence he had made you unconsciously rub your thighs together. "Don't hold this over my head, ok?"

"It's just a few pictures, Y/n, no big deal"

"I know" you pouted and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "But I don't want you to think I'm a slut or something. I don't do stuff like this"

"There's a beginning for everything, sweetheart. What if you end up loving it and want to take more?"

"Yeah, right" you rolled your eyes and felt a very strong urge to look anywhere else but at him. "Ok, how do you want them?"

He thought about it for a second. "Take your top off, we'll see from there"

The little bit of conscious thinking still present inside your mind had a very hard time accepting just how fast your hands worked to remove your shirt. The second that piece of clothing went over your head, your cheeks started burning and a very painful but familiar feeling awakened in your core. Half naked and maybe a little bit confused, you turned to look at Eddie - who was grinning from ear to ear, getting ready to snap the picture.

"Say cheese!"

You didn't say it, but you did straighten your back, smiled, and even put on a cute pose with your hands beside your cheeks.

"You've done this before?" Eddie laughed after taking the picture as he waited for it to slip out of the device.

"No, why?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "It's a nice picture"

"Let me see" you said and bubbled over to him, looking at the picture as it exited the camera. "Oh, yeah. You're right! It really is cute"

"Told you, sweetheart" Eddie grinned and grabbed your chin.

You instinctually followed and tilted your head up to look at him, shame spreading across your body as you reveled in his little words of praise. "What next?"

"Bend over that desk over there"

Without as little as a hint of hesitation, you walked over to the desk, planted your chest on top of it and pushed your skirt up over your ass.

"See why I'd think you've done this before?" he laughed and slapped your ass. "I didn't even tell you to lift your skirt"

"You were about to anyway, I'm just ahead of you"

"Such a good, little girl"

As much as you hated to admit, the way he groped your ass, and his fingers - rough and digging into your skin, it all made you squirm under his touch. You remained motionless and sat there quietly, only your feet wobbling a bit from the uncomfortable position as you allowed him to do his thing. "Can I take these off?" Eddie asked, his pointer finger already hooked behind the little piece of fabric that covered your cunt.

"Yeah, mhm" you nodded eagerly. "Do what you want"

Maybe you shouldn't have said that. But a part of you forgot about the concert and was too focused on Eddie's touch, on his presence behind you, the fact that you couldn't see him making all your senses go off the rails.

But a deal was a deal and Eddie wasn't about to break it… that much. After pushing your underwear to the side, the cold air hit your already heated and sensitive core. "Can I see how wet you are, doll?"

You nodded.

And his finger slipped right in, knuckle deep, his big, silver ring barely visible between your damp, puffy folds.

"How about two?"

"...ok"

"Three? Can you take three?" Eddie asked, slipping his fingers inside without wasting time to hear your answer.

A soft moan broke past your lips and your back arched the way he was filling you up, little tears of pleasure gathering at the corners of your eyes. "Eddie" you cried.

"Yeah, puppy?"

But only a grunt escaped your throat as you let your forehead fall against the desk.

When he didn't get an answer from you, he just chuckled and the next thing you heard was the sound of the camera going off.

"Cute" Eddie said, retracting his hand from your pussy.

The sudden feeling of emptiness made you whine, "That's all?"

"What? Did you want more?"

"I- I thought-" you mumbled, turning around to face him, "I thought you were gonna, I don't know…"

"Do you want me to, doll?"

The way the words almost slipped out of your mouth was pathetic. But you managed to control yourself, and just pushed yourself up and shook your head. "No" you lied. And he could tell.

"You sure, kitten?"

"Yeah, no. Just take the next pic"

"Ok, last one, sweetheart. Can you get on your knees for me?"

Still visibly disappointed with how he left you hanging, you wordlessly kneeled in front of him. Your hands flew up to grip his thighs and your head fell back, your eyes on his. "Like this?"

"Exactly like that, puppy. You're so good, you know that?" Eddie said, nonchalantly licking your juices off his fingers. "And you taste so sweet, baby"

"Thank you" you weakly smiled as he caressed your cheek. "What, um… what do I do now?"

"Open wide for me, just like that. Can you stay like this for a bit?" Eddie commanded.

All you could do was nod and follow him with your stare, your heart nearly beating out of your chest when he lowered himself in front of you and grabbed your chin.

"Do you like this?"

Yes. No. Fuck, you squeezed your eyes shut for a second then then, much to his absolute pleasure, nodded yes.

The sheer embarrassment you felt from not being able to answer him as your mouth hung open made the pressure between your legs grow even more unbearable. You wanted him to do something, anything, touch, or at least talk to you, but he just left you there, hanging pathetically and waiting.

"How about this for the last picture?" Eddie questioned and then shoved his fingers into your mouth. Ring deep and with no warning, he forced your jaw open as he pushed his fingers as far as they could go, making your eyes snap wide open in shock.

"Easy, sweetheart. Stay still for me, ok? Don't fight it"

But it was impossible, with your airway partially blocked and your gag reflex threatening to act up, your hands found his wrist and squeezed as all you could do was look up into his eyes.

"Do you like being like this, angel? All good and dumb for me?"

Your answer came in the form of a blink, your eyebrows also arching upwards, before a cough broke in the back of your throat.

"Easy, doll. Slow down, stop fighting it. Relax, you can do it, you can do it, baby" but he was not helping you, instead pushing down harder onto your tongue, making your eyes water from the lack of oxygen.

But still, you didn't try to fight him, to pry his hand away or to even distance yourself. You just stood there, choking on his fingers, painfully awaiting the moment he'd figure you'd had enough.

While he didn't let you off easily, when your throat constricted around his fingers again, he finally retracted his hand. Drunk on the so dearly needed breath of fresh air that rushed down your throat, you fell forward, your cheek against his thigh as you struggled to regain your composure.

"So good for me, puppy. You listen so well" Eddie cooed, brushing your hair as you refused to pull away from your leg.

"Eddie…" you pouted, "You didn't take the picture"

"That's ok, doll. How are you? Are you good?"

Still unwilling to move, you nodded against his leg. "Yep"

"What do you want to do next, sweetheart? You can choose for the last picture"

"I don't wanna choose" you shook your head, "Just tell me what to do"

"Is there nothing you want, angel? Not even one thing that crossed that pretty, little head of yours?"

"No"

"Then open up for me again, sweetheart"

Lazily, you shuffled to the side and settled back into your position on your knees in front of him. This time, he only pried your mouth open a little bit, much for the aesthetic of it all, his fingers on your tongue and his heavy rings against your bottom lip.

When he brought the camera up, you looked directly into the lens, eyes wide and soft, as you were all but drooling. The way you squirmed once you heard the click of the camera was probably pathetic, but he enjoyed it and you wanted more.

"That's enough" Eddie said, placing the device to the side and squatting down in front of you. "Can you swallow for me?"

You blinked in confusion but burned with enthusiasm, almost moaning out loud when you saw him tower over you and spit down onto your awaiting tongue.

You didn't question it, didn't even flinch, you just closed your mouth and swallowed as he told you.

Once done, Eddie helped you up and waited for you to change. Back out at his little security desk, you waited patiently for him to put the yellow bracelet around your wrist. "Thank you"

"Pleasure doing business with you, doll"

Despite rolling your eyes, you couldn't also hide the way your lips curled at the little pet name, suddenly getting to you in a way half an hour ago you couldn't have even imagined.

"Come with me to the bar, I'll fix you something to drink. On the house"

"Where was this generosity before?" you teased and stepped inside as he held the door open for you.

"Don't push it," he playfully threatened. Once inside, Eddie grabbed your hand and guided you back behind the bar. "What do you want to drink, sweetheart?"

You knew what you wanted, but the annoyed looks of the people impatiently waiting their turn distracted you. Eddie noticed it in a heartbeat, the distress in your eyes saying it all.

"Fuck them" he scoffed, raising his middle finger in their direction as he shielded you with his body. "Just tell me what you feel like drinking"

"Um, a screwdriver, please"

"Coming right up" he said and got to work, only to have you follow him closely like a lost puppy. Too many pairs of judgemental eyes still followed your every move, and without Eddie's attention on you, they felt even more intrusive than before.

"Eddie, I want to pay for it" you said as you opened your purse, "I feel bad"

"I'm not taking your money, Y/n"

"They're looking at me as if I've committed a crime. I'm not going out there with my free drink that I didn't even have to wait for. Just take my money, Eddie, please!"

That sounded like it pissed him off. Not you, though. They did. You sounded genuinely worried, and he didn't like that. After he finished making your drink, Eddie placed it in front of you and then turned to face the customers. "Before you all get your panties in a bunch, she didn't cut to the front, you're waiting to get served by my colleague, I haven't even started my shift. And even if she had cut in front of you, that would've been fine too, because I said so. If any of you even looks at her the wrong way, you're getting kicked out and banned. Thank you!"

Despite his rant having done its job perfectly since no one dared comment or even keep staring, you barely found it in you to look at him. "Eddie… you didn't have to do that"

"If anyone bothers you, come find me" he said, as if he hadn't even heard you. He just grabbed your glass and placed it between your hands, "Go enjoy the concert, sweetheart"

"Thank you" you meekly said.

"No problem, doll" he grinned and slapped your ass as you turned to walk away.

Luckily enough with the soundcheck and stage preparations, you managed to find your friends before the second song even started.

While the music wasn't necessarily your favorite, you still danced your soul out and used the little breaks between songs to listen to your friend vent and fangirl over the vocalist. Tall, long hair and a leather jacket - another thing whose appeal you didn't think you'd see any time soon.

But the whole thing turned out to be a blast, no one interrupting your dancing sessions and by the time the concert was over, you were all spent, barely able to maintain your balance on your aching feet.

After collapsing in the nearest booth you found available, one friend who made the happiest choice of the night regarding the shoes and chose a pair of sneakers, sacrificed herself and made her way to the bar while you all waited for her at the table.

Mostly, the conversation circled around everyone's surprise with how enjoyable the concert actually was. A few other topics had been touched, such as whether they'd party at this bar or not, or if any of the members were single, but when the subject of the price rolled around, you felt personally attacked.

Without explaining, you excused yourself from the table and stomped your way to the bar, walking behind it like the place belonged to you.

"Eddie, I need to talk to you"

"Not now, sweetheart. I'm a bit busy" he hurriedly spoke, unable to even look at you as he balanced 7 shot glasses between his hands.

"Now, Eddie!"

"It's gonna have to wait, have a seat" he huffed and dragged a stool over to his side of the bar. "Wait"

The only thing that kept you from making a scene right then and there was the number of people that were waiting for their drinks. And while you would've very gladly given Eddie a hard time, those people had nothing wrong. So, with a pout and a frown on your face, you sat down and proceeded to wait.

"What's wrong? Can you tell me what happened?" Eddie eventually said in between orders, still visibly busy and not giving you all the attention you required.

"No" you crossed your arms, "Not like this"

"Did something happen?" he questioned, sounding genuinely worried. He threw the towel in his hand over his shoulder and leaned closer, softly touching your thigh as he spoke. "Tell me if-"

"I'll hit you" you snapped and shoved him. "Take a break"

And that was what he did. As soon as he got a little window of time, he asked his colleague to cover for him and then guided you out from behind the bar, and over to a more secluded corner.

"Ok, what happ-"

"Asshole!" you slapped his cheek - as hard as you could but nowhere near hard enough to do any real damage. "Fuck you!"

"Whoa!" Eddie gasped as he recoiled from the blow, instantly grabbing your wrist to stop you from delivering another blow. "What the hell happened?"

"30 dollars!? You lied to me!"

"Oh, that…"

"Yes! That! You're a fucking asshole!"

"Hey, now. Don't go there" Eddie calmly said, arms going up in a defensive position despite still holding onto your hand. "It was just a bit of fun. You had fun too, didn't you?"

"That's not the point"

"You didn't deny it!"

"Asshole!" you snapped again, this time using your free hand to hit his side. But he grabbed onto this wrist too, pulling you closer to him despite your protests. "Eddie, let me go!"

"No, you're gonna hit me again"

"Yes, I am. You lied to me"

"Ok, I lied" he raised his shoulders and rolled his eyes, "So what? We both had some fun, and you got in for free and also got a free drink. I think it's fair"

"No, it's not fair!" you tried to free yourself but his grip was iron strong. "It's not fair because it wasn't 30 dollars, you lied!"

"It was still 10 dollars, which you didn't have to pay, now did you?"

"I would've paid 10 dollars!"

"But you didn't. I saved you some money. I think you should just thank me, doll"

"You're unbelievable" you scoffed, turning your head to the side so that you wouldn't have to look at him.

Eddie however, had a different idea. As he let your wrists go, he cupped your cheeks into his hands so that you'd face him. Despite the annoyed look on your face, your hands traveled up to his sides, grabbing onto his leather jacket as he held you close.

"Come on, you can't really be upset with me right now, sweetheart."

"Well, I am," you frowned.

"I'm sorry, dove. It wasn't my intention. I never meant to upset you"

"You wouldn't have lied if you didn't want to upset me"

"I didn't think you'd find out" he chuckled, which deepened your frown. "Hey, look at me"

"No" you pouted and turned your head to the side, making Eddie have to lean from left to right multiple times in order to meet your eyes.

"Angel, look at me, come on"

"No, Eddie, leave me alone!" you protested, but the smile was audible in your tone. He knew he got to you.

"Hey, come on. Look at you, all smiling"

"I'm not smiling!" you said, trying to sound serious, but eventually giggled when you finally looked at him.

"There you go! That's my girl!" Eddie laughed and brought you closer, "You forgive me, doll, right?" he asked, lightly rubbing your chin with his thumb.

"No"

"You're a bad liar, sweetheart. I think you didn't even mind in the first place, did you?"

"I did!"

"Then why were you so wet for me, huh?" he grinned.

"I'm mad you lied to me" you sighed, not showing any signs of wanting to distance yourself from him anymore. "You didn't have to do that"

"How was I supposed to know you'd say yes?"

"You should've asked!"

"I'm sorry, baby. I really am" he said softly and then nudged your forehead with his. "Kiss me to make it better?"

"I don't want to kiss you, Eddie, I'm still upset"

"No, you're not" he laughed and leaned in, his lips brushing against yours a couple of times until you couldn't help it anymore.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" you shook your head in disbelief, unable to contain your nervous laughter. But despite your words, you were still pressed against him, your hands on his waist and your lips inches away from his.

"I'm fun, sweetheart. Just kiss me"

"Ok, but you're not going to lie to me again!"

"Never!" he swore, all wide eyed and not at all grinning as he did so.

But you didn't pay too much attention. That promise, however empty, was enough for you to feel completely content with going in for a full kiss. He welcomed you fully, one of his hands finding your ass in no time, squeezing hard enough to bruise. But it only riled you up further as you clung onto him, breathing him in with every single brush of your tongue against his.

"Ah! My lipstick!" you whined as you pulled away for air.

"It looks alright, it didn't smudge, don't worry" Eddie smiled, looking at you in awe as you tried to make sure your lipstick didn't get all over your face.

"The girls said it's blowjob proof, I guess they were right" you giggled when you saw no color transferred to Eddie's lips or your fingers. "That's 5 dollars well spent"

"See?" Eddie grabbed your ass as he proudly spoke, "And now, thanks to me, you can get two more. I can even help you try them all out. Multiple times, see if they really are blowjob proof."

"How nice of you" you mocked.

"I know, right?" Eddie chuckled and then kissed your temple. "I have to go back to work now, though. You can hang out with me, if you want"

You were about to follow him, but right before he reached the bar, you tugged his sleeve. "Eddie? Can I ask for a favor?"

He blinked in curiosity. "Sure, sweetheart. What is it?"

"You know I told you I have this friend who likes-"

"Who likes the vocalist, yes, I remember"

"Yeah, well… I was wondering if you could introduce them?"

"Yeah, doll. No problem" Eddie said and looked around, "I think they're still in the back, come with me"

And you did. You followed him wordlessly and reveled in the privilege of walking through the "employees only" door. The dark and sticky corridor Eddie dragged you through had absolutely no reason to make you feel as important as it did, but you loved it. And once outside, in the parking lot you yourself had crossed earlier on your way to the concert, as you and Eddie approached the band's van, you still managed to feel important, as if there was business to attend to.

Even talking to the band you couldn't care less about felt empowering, especially the way each member went to shake your hand as Eddie did the introductions. But despite all of them being nothing but a happy and laid back bunch, you still felt the need to cower behind Eddie as he conversed with the vocalist.

Even though they were all heading inside for some well deserved post concert drinks, Eddie made sure to mention the one fan the man absolutely had to meet.

"This one?" the vocalist, whose name you found out to be Joe, or Joey, asked, pointing at you.

Your eyes went wide, but Eddie only chuckled. "No, she's with me. It's one of her friends, though. She's inside"

While the band still had a few minutes worth of organizing to do, you and Eddie headed back towards the bar.

"I'm with you?" you giggled, almost feeling the need to cover your mouth at how giddy his words made you.

"Aren't you?" Eddie laughed.

"I guess I am" you smiled and resumed your spot on the chair he had brought for you earlier. "Can I help you with stuff? Or is that allowed? I don't know"

"Everything's allowed, sweetheart, but don't worry. Enjoy yourself, I don't need any help. Sit there and be pretty for me"

"I can do that" you wiggled your legs in the air. "And thank you for speaking to Joey. She's gonna be so happy, I'm never going to hear the end of it"

After sending you a knowing smile, Eddie put his arm around your shoulders and kissed your forehead, "Anything for you, sweetheart"

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x reader #eddie muson fanfic

198 notes · View notes

kierancaz · 10 months

Note

Soo I saw that you were looking for some writing inspiration/requests and I was wondering if you would be interested in writing a Thorin x Reader fic where Reader is part of the company and both of them really admire each other but are too afraid to admit it at first and before they confess their feelings there's some sort of miscommunication?

This just came to my mind and I hope it could inspire you a little :)

hey !! thanks so much for requesting something !! I tired my best but I have not written for Thorin before so sorry if he's a little ooc haha. Also sorry this took so damn long I kept starting and stopping and also screwed up my sleep schedule and then 3 days in a row kept getting stomach aches and just couldn’t write more than three lines T_T. If it feels inconsistent or confusing I’m sorry I got lost in the sauce and COULDN’T FIGURE OUT WHAT I WAS DOING but I hope you enjoy anyway :)

warnings : none details : reader is human, marriage plot that isn’t super important besides like ^^ the request

pre-post edit: I just went back and read the request again and this might not actually be what you asked for so uh, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna post this anyway bc well it’s written but if you don’t like it lmk and I will try again :)

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

It was safe to stay that Thorin was not the happiest camper when you joined the company, but he couldn't deny that you intrigued him a bit. Only a little though, you must understand.

You had joined the company a fair bit later, when they were stopped by the tolls. You had arrived just before Gandalf and saw the group tied up. You were going to ignore them and just carry on your way, after all it wasn't any of your business. But watching the little hobbit try and stall for time while none of the dwarves caught on was amusing enough for you to lend your aid. You had a talent for sneaking around, you made no noise when you walked, had no scent you left behind, and with little effort could blend into any environment.

You crept up onto the rock behind where the group of dwarves was tied and dug around in your bag until you pulled out a mirror. The sun was coming up and just peaking over the rock that the trolls had been staying behind. Laying down flat you brought the mirror in front of yourself and moved it until it caught the sunlight and began to reflect it. You bounce it around for a moment, attempting to get a good angle. Finally, you hit the troll standing farthest away right in the face, there was a small noise it made but it was cut off by it's mouth turning to stone. Quickly its head and shoulders and chest also turned to stone.

"Huh, you say something?" The one troll that had been talking to the hobbit said as he turned around along with the other one that was standing over by the fire. They both gasped and the one that had been talking to the hobbit rounded on the little guy again, "what did you little ferret do?!"

"Ferret?" The hobbit stuttered for a moment, doing his best to hop away but fell on his butt. "N-Nothing, I- we didn't do anything."

"Why you little-" The troll made to grab the hobbit but you quickly adjusted your mirror and light been to hit the troll on the side of the head. It started to turn to stone and in an attempt to stop it the troll reached up to block the light but only managed to turn his hand to stone. The other troll shrieked in terror.

"The dawn will take you all!" Cried someone from atop the bolder with a booming voice. A second later he slammed his staff down and the bolder cracked in two, letting the sunlight pour through. All the trolls turned quickly to stone and the dwarves set quickly to setting themselves free. You slid back down the bolder and pocketed your mirror. For some reason, you didn't immediately leave.

"I think we owe someone our thanks." Said a older white haired dwarf as he walked up to you. Gandalf followed him.

"Y/n, fancy running into you here, though I can't say I'm upset." The old wizard smiled at you. You smiled back at him.

"Good to see you too, Gandalf." You turned and offered a bow to the old dwarf and "the name's Y/n, at your service."

The old dwarf smiled, he seemed very pleased with your politeness, and bowed back, "Balin, at yours."

"Is this the company you mentioned Gandalf?" You asked turning back to your old friend.

"What do you know of this company?" Came a rumbling deep voice from your left. You hadn't realized that someone else had joined you. His arms were crossed and judging by the slight crease in his brows he was not very happy.

"Ah- well," you cleared your throat and looked to Gandalf for help but he offered none. "You must be Thorin," you bowed the same as you did for Balin. "I know of your journey, Gandalf told me." Yes, blame the old wizard, that's fine.

Thorin turned to Gandalf with a glare, silently demanding an explanation from him. Gandalf cleared his throat and shifted his weight on his feet slightly, "I first asked Y/n to be our burglar, however she refused me."

"I had family business to attend to at the time." You said and Thorin turned his glare onto you, you stiffened slightly and suddenly wished you didn't say anything at all.

"What are you doing here now?" Thorin asked.

"Well... I was looking for you guys. I figured if I followed your road I'd come across you eventually."

"Why?" Thorin was not looking very pleased. You felt small under his stare and began to fiddle with your hands.

"I was hoping that, well, you may have room for another walker in your company?" Your expression changed into something unsure as you shrugged your shoulders. All Thorin did was stare and you glanced at Gandalf for help.

"She can be of use Thorin, she's very quiet this one, great for sneaking around." Gandalf nodded his staff towards you.

"She also did just save our skins." Added Balin and you were very grateful he had not walked off.

Thorin thought for a moment, but it felt like en eternity. He eyed you up and down before turning away and beginning to walk off. "Fine. But don't slow us down. If you do you'll get left behind."

You've been traveling with the company since then. So far you've made very good friends with everyone but particularly Fili, Kili, Balin and Bilbo. Over time you've also begun to greatly admire the leader of this company, Thorin.

You couldn't deny that you thought he was attractive, you had thought that from the moment you met him. But it was more than just looks you liked about him, you admired how much he cared for his people, his sense of duty to bring them back to their home in Erebor. He carries such a huge burden all on his own and is able to do it with grace and dignity, you understood a little of what that meant, though on a much smaller scale. He was brave and even though he was a king he was always first to throw himself into a fight to protect those around him. And even though he seemed cold on the surface it's very obvious that he cares for all his companions and would do whatever it took to make sure they were safe.

"Watcha lookin' at?" You jumped, Kili had his face right next to yours leaning over your shoulder. He laughed and sat on the rock next to you with his back facing the fire, you smack his arm.

"How long were you there?" You grumbled.

"Oh I don't know, long enough to notice you staring dreamily off at my uncle." He clasped his hands together out in front of him and bat his eyelashes at you in a teasing manner before bursting out laughing like someone told the most hysterical joke known to man.

"I was not! I was just thinking and I zoned out..."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say." Kili said once he stopped laughing. "You know you're so obvious right? Everyone sees it."

"Sees what?" You asked with a raised eyebrow and Kili rolled his eyes.

"That you're in love with him!" Kili hit you on the shoulder. "I think it's a good thing personally, Thorin needs someone like you. Someone fun who can lighten his mood, he's always so stoic these days, believe it or not he used to be fun."

"I'm not in love with him." You said and put your chin in your hands, your mood had soured and Kili didn't understand why. "I'm due to be married."

Oh. Oh. Thorin stopped listening.

He had realized you're staring a while ago. He thought, or maybe hoped, that you where staring at him, but it seems you really where just zoned out and didn't realize you where looking in his direction. He started paying attention more when Kili wandered over and tuned in when the two of you started talking. But now he didn't want to listen, you were probably going to go on talking about whoever it is that you're going to be married to and he didn't want to hear it.

"You ok there laddie?" Balin asked appear at his side.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" And it came out a little more snappy than he would've liked.

"No particular reason, just looked like you were staring off into space. But by your tone it sounds like something is on your mind?" Thorin thought for a moment before deciding he shook his head.

"I'm going for a walk." Was what he settled on and he got up and left.

"You what?!" Kili said in shock. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said. Once I go back home I am to be wed."

"You don't sound very happy about it..."

"I'm not." You said. "I don't want to marry him."

"Then why are you?" Kili sounded almost mad. You furrowed your eyebrows at him.

"Because I have to Kili. I'm the oldest in my family and with our dad dead I have to be the one to bring in money somehow. There aren't many jobs for women where I am and this guy has enough money to keep my family off the streets and well fed. The reason I decided to seek out this company and join the adventure is because this is the last one I'll be able to go on..." Kili was silent.

Suddenly he shot up on his feet and rounded the rock to stand in front of you. "Thorin is a king. We are going to reclaim our home that is filled with mountains of gold. Tell Thorin you love him and then you can be happy and save your family! It's as simple as that!"

"Thorin is a king. It's not as simple as that."

Kili was making that face he does when he's confused and upset. Eyebrows creased together, pouting, and over all looking like a sad puppy dog. "Get up," he said and tugged roughly on your arm to pull you to your feet.

"What are you doing?!" You half shouted at him as you tried to pry yourself free. "Let me go you lunatic!"

"I'm looking for my uncle." He said and you froze for a second before beginning to fight him again. "He deserves to be happy and so do you, all it takes is for you to admit your feelings to him."

"How do you know that's all it takes?" You snapped and stopped struggling for a moment. "How do you know he thinks of me in the same way I think of him?"

You were every serious, Kili however was not and was looking at you like you had just said the stupidest thing he had ever heard. He sighed exasperatedly, your face crumpled in confusion. "Where is he? Do you see, Thorin?"

You took a look around the fire, "um, no, I don't."

Thorin was walking through the woods, he could still see the campfire and hear the voices of everyone so he wasn't far if anything went wrong, but he was far enough that he couldn't properly see any of the individual figures. You had a fiancé? You were going to be married. Thorin didn't know how to describe how he was feeling in this moment. Upset? Mad? Disappointed? Perhaps blindsided was the word, but how could just being blindsided by this information be enough to make him feel this bad. Why did he even care so much?

Well actually he knew why he cared so much. It probably had something to do with that intense warmth that spread throughout him whenever he looked at you. That tightening in his chest whenever you smiled, even if it wasn't at him.

He had noticed a while back the way he was beginning to think of you, but he shoved it down. Hid it away in fear that it would start to interfere with this quest. He needed to make a conscious effort to treat you the same as everyone else. But he still always caught himself wondering if you were tired and needed to rest, if you were warm at night, if you had enough to eat or drink. After a battle or after running away from orcs he always made it a point to check on you personally and he couldn't relax until he did so.

When you first met he thought you were attractive. Just a passing acknowledgement that, for a human, you were nice to look at. But over time, after seeing the way you would blend with the others in conversation, how even though you were the best fighter you still valued the others safety and were willing to put yourself at risk, how much Fili and Kili liked you. You were so kind and unassuming and you always offered to help.

One thing that stood out to Thorin, and that he especially admired about you, was that you stood up to him. It might sound weird, but he liked that you questioned him, and when you thought he was wrong you pointed it out. It didn't happen often, but when you did say he was wrong about something you were usually right. You argued with him when no one else did and somehow he thought that was very attractive of you.

He let out a long sigh and rubbed his temples, all of this thinking was useless. And also making him feel worse, like the hole in his chest was growing. The laughing from around the fire tuned him fully back into his surroundings and with one last look around (so he could at least say he was checking the parameter) he started to head back to camp. As he exited the trees and came back into the little clearing he heard the sound of his nephew.

"Aha! There he is!" Looking to his left Thorin saw Kili and he was pulling you with him. Well, not so much pulling as he was dragging, you were tripping over your own feet with every step and looked about ready to fall.

Kili then yanked you forward, practically throwing you into Thorin with a grin on his face that Thorin just knew meant that Kili knew something he didn't. Thorin reached out and caught you before you could face plant. "Kili, what's going on?" You scoffed as you stood up straighter and brushed yourself off, you had a very sour look on your face that just made Thorin more confused and slightly concerned.

"Y/n has something to talk to you about." He said and winked before running off to go whisper about something with his brother. There was a long stretch of silence and it was very quickly becoming awkward.

Thorin cleared his throat, "there's something you wanted to talk to me about?"

You jumped slightly, Thorin was standing there, hands clasped behind his back and face as un-telling as ever. You chuckled, "oh, uh, it's nothing really. Not that important or anything, you know Kili this is just one of his- uh- things..."

Thorin just grunted in response and turned away. You probably could've used this opportunity to run away but for some reason you didn't. There was another long silence, the two of you just standing next to each other and looking at the rest of the company sitting around the fire. At some point you saw Gandalf look over at you two and when he looked away you could've sworn there was a knowing smile on his face.

"I hear you're getting married once you return home after the journey." Thorin said suddenly.

"What?" You said whirling to face him, "how do you know about that?"

"I over heard you and Kili talking about it." He answered simply and without looking at you. You creased your brows before turning back to look at the company and the fire. Thorin glanced at you, "whoever he is, he's a lucky man."

"And I an unlucky woman." You said with a huff. "I don't want to marry him."

"Oh? Why not?" Thorin asked and turned to you.

"Why? Well for one he is the most arrogant self righteous man I have ever met. He thinks he's the gods gift to man and that everyone he interacts with owes him something. The only reason I even agreed to this arrangement with him is because if I don't my family will lose everything. I much rather marry-- someone else."

After your rant Thorin was feeling significantly lighter. He caught your stutter at the end and the side of his mouth corked up. "Y/n, what was it Kili wanted you to tell me?"

You turned to look at him, eyes wide, but were comforted by the smile on his face. "Well," you said looking up and away to avoid eye contact and clasping your hands in front of you. "Kili wants me to tell you that I'm in love with you. And I am, in love with you I mean."

Thorin chuckled and you peaked back at him, he had a soft smile on his face. "Maybe you're not as unlucky as you thought armâlimê.”

You opened your mouth like you were going to say something, but then what he said seemed to register. You paused and then looked over at him, “what did you just call me?”

He smiled at you softly and took your hand and looked down at it as he spoke, “we can figure out what to do about your family’s situation after the quest, I trust it won’t be to hard to find a solution then.”

Silently your hand tightened around his, touched by what he had said. “And just for the record,” he added looking up into your eyes, “I love you too.”

From a little ways away, over by the fire, you could hear whispered cheers and groans, and the clink of coins being exchanged. You looked over and Kili grinned back, shooting you a thumbs up and you couldn’t help but laugh feelings as light as air and happier than you ever have before.

354 notes · View notes

vee-beeee · 7 months

Text

Games

HIII

Another short fluffy and crack one one for yallll, because Im trying not to write 3 million words LOL

If you know what video this is from, you are a certified hood banger

Premise: The boys are a littleeee competitive

just a tad

but so are you

Warnings: anger, swearing maybe, big baby rage mad boys, poor gladio

Chocobros x reader

╰┈➤---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"UNO"

"Prompto, I swear to god, if you win again ill kill you"

"I'm joining in on that"

"Anything for his majesty"

Sooooo you were currently sitting at a picnic table, cards in hand, watching 3 angry men stare down a VERY scared Prom. The poor guy chuckled and shied away from the group while Noctis silently took his turn, slapping down a card as he continued to glare at the blonde. Ignis took his turn and as always, he took 5 minutes to analyze his cards. You bit the inside of your cheek, and looked down at your own cards, feeling a little bad for Prompto. But he had won 3 times already, so that made any guilt you felt fade away. This was war.

As you scanned your cards you found a pretty deadly one in the mix. Should you do it?

Should you play a +4 on Gladio when he only had 2 cards left?

He might actually strangle you, nobody would be able save you.

Oh well. You will die a peaceful death, suffocating in his bicep.

Your turn

"NO WHY" Gladio yelled out from next to you when he saw the card you gently threw into the pile, making you cringe away from the burly man. Noctis burst into laughter, and Ignis joined in silent chuckles when he saw the card.

"Y/n, baby, why would you do this too me??" you closed your eyes and sighed, slowly facing the man. You cracked one peeper open to see that he looked SO depressed, his shoulders were hunched and he was grumbling as he grabbed the extra cards. Feeling bad, you brushed your arm against his and gently leaned up to kiss his cheek. He just glared at you, and continued pouting.

Gladio finished taking all the cards, and soon it was Prompto's turn. Everyone waited with bated breathe as he sighed a reluctantly took one more card. Cue everyone cheering.

Prompto looked like a kicked puppy, so you leaned over to him to give him some encouragement. Kinda

"Just remember, you've won 2 times already" you winked and pulled yourself back to your original position as Prom reddened, and gave you a small smile. You returned it, and the game continued.

Finally, it was your turn once again. You turned to Gladio and saw him intensely staring at your cards, almost like he was scared of what was going to happen. You smirked to yourself and put down a regular red card, and you watched Gladio's body sag with relief. He exhaled and put down a green card (same number) without thinking twice.

And then everyone turned to Prompto, who sheepishly drew another card.

And then another.

This went on for a WHILE

Prompto started screaming about how he "doesn't have a green" and your party started wheezing with laughter at the poor blonde.

Finally he managed to pull one.

Prom let out a relieved groan as he set down a green nine. He looked down at his massive amount of cards he accumulated and you counted that he had 10. You gave him a sad smile, and he opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted.

By Ignis telling Noct "not to do it"

You looked over and saw the prince shaking with laughter, as Ignis (having seen the card being shown to him) was desperately telling Noct not to do something.

And then he put down a green reverse card.

And Prompto almost burst into tears. He cried out one final "I DONT HAVE A GREEN" while Noctis fell backwards with laughter. You looked around the group, and mentally took a picture of everyone.

Promptos look of absolute betrayal, Gladio holding on to his stomach and wheezing, and Ignis with his head in his hands.

And of course, Noctis on the ground.

You leaned your face in your hands that were resting on the table and chuckled, and slightly kicked the giggling prince who was rolling under the table.

You loved game night.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just a lil short one :D

I rewatched this uno video and I love it so much lol

HOPE YOU ENJOYED READINGG

#ffxv gladiolus #ffxv noctis #ffxv prompto #ffxv #ff15 #ffxv x reader #ffxv ignis

60 notes · View notes

collapsedglasshouses · 7 months

Text

An Angel for Noah || Noah Sebastian x OC [Part 6]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Jules [she/her]

MASTERPOST

SUMMARY: Both Noah and Jules get confronted with the consequences of Jules' interference and to make matters worse Noah believes that Nick doesn't believe him at all.

WARNINGS: themes of trauma and emotional distress, talks about bad mental health, talks about death, ...

A/N: Hello! ♡ I'm really sorry it's taking me so long to update atm. I'm struggling with a really bad writer's block. I hope you all are doing well... I actually don't know what else to say this time except: Thank you for the overwhelming responses to this series! It means a lot to me! So now, have fun while reading the next part! ♡

TAGLIST: @trvshdxddy @blackveilomens @crimson-calligraphyx @measuredingold @cncohshit @signs-of-ill-portent @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @ada-clarence

If you wanna be added to the taglist of this story, please DM me or let me know in the comments!

Keep in mind, this takes place in an alternative universe. Even though I write about real people, the way I write them has nothing to do with how they are in real life.

When Noah woke up the next day his head was pounding. He regretted every bit of alcohol he had consumed last night. But right as he was about to let out a frustrated groan, his memories from his way to the hotel came back.

He had almost been hit by a car because he was too dumb to watch where he was going. There was this girl that had thrown herself onto him. She had cried while she asked him if he was okay. He still felt the pain, from hitting the concrete, in his back.

He remembered how he couldn't stop himself from getting lost in her eyes, even though he felt guilty for doing so, since she was crying. The comfort he felt when she touched him, still lingered on him. Her image occupied his thoughts, even now when he was awake again, and he couldn't shake the feeling that there was a deeper connection between them. He felt stupid thinking about how this encounter felt almost supernatural.

He didn't have the time to think about it any longer, because his phone started to ring again. Jules didn't even move a finger while standing at the corner of his room. She didn't move at all since Noah stumbled into the room. She couldn't believe what she had done. She shouldn't have done that.

She just stared at Noah as he moved into the small bathroom to shower. She felt like she couldn't move, her thoughts holding her back. If he would slip in the shower now, she would accept that he might break his neck but she just couldn't move. She had destroyed everything. She was sure that at any moment she would be snapped out of her skin and would have to listen to a lecture about how stupid she was for showing herself.

She let herself think about what might have happened if she didn't reach him in time on that street. He would have ended just like she did. He would have died in the cold with the downside of not having anybody around who could help him like she did. The tour would have ended before even starting. His friends would have lost such a beautiful soul. She felt how she started to shake, her trauma washing over her. When she was still living, she thought her death would take all her sorrows, but now she found herself in a whirlwind of emotions that she could not control.

She felt how she teared up again. As much as she wanted to swallow her tears, she couldn't fight it. So she stood there, as still as she could, shaking and crying from her emotions.

As the days went by, everything started to become grey to Noah. While he loved being on tour, he had this weight on his shoulders of not knowing how to go on from this. He couldn't stop thinking about her. Every little time he had was used to go through the past events over and over. He knew he needed to see Jules again. It was all he could think about.

It didn't go unnoticed by Jules that Noah was even deeper in his thoughts than he already had been. She knew it was her fault. She was sure it was the fact that she had disappeared into thin air after helping him to his feet. She was to blame for him loosing his sanity. She was to blame for him not performing as good as he wanted to. She was to blame for him being mad at himself for not doing great. She was to blame for everything that went wrong in Noah's life at the moment and she wanted nothing more but to change that.

"Are you alright, Noah?" Jolly asked his friend after their concert as they walked backstage. Noah just shrugged it off. "Yeah, just can't concentrate that well at the moment."

Jules observed the scene. She noticed how Jolly raised his right eyebrow for a second but when he sensed that Noah really didn't want to talk about it, he gave him a quick side hug. "You did good tonight. Don't worry." And with that he left.

In fact, Noah did worry. About everything. Every waking second was spent with worrying. He felt like her face was burned into his brain. He needed to see her again so bad, he began searching her face in every crowd they saw. He knew it was dumb, but it was his last hope. How else should he cope with his loss? He knew there was little to no chance he would ever see her again but this way he could at least talk himself into it for a few seconds longer.

It felt like the next few hours went by in slow motion for him, and when he was finally in his bunk on the tour bus, he couldn't help but take a sigh of relief. He just wanted to sleep, since this had been the only way to escape his thoughts of Jules for the last few days.

When he opened his eyes again, he almost fell off the chair he was seated at. Hectically he looked around himself. He was sitting in a café. It looked like a typical coffee shop in the Upper West Side of New York. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee beans wafted through the air, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. When he watched closer, he noticed how a lot of the people around him looked like university attendees. He felt like he was living in an episode of Gossip Girl (ignoring the fact he definitely wasn't on the Upper East Side) with the people's clothes around him looking like they had a lot of money.

His eyes stopped at a table in the corner. Around the girl, whose back was turned to him, were a lot of plants. If he had to choose a place where he could sit, it would have been there. He instantly recognized her. It was Jules. Right when he noticed that it felt like he could read her like an open book.

He knew this must have been a place she frequently visited, considering the fact that he could see the signs of Juilliard school from the other side of the window.

Than he noticed a person sitting with her at the table. She was rather short and had longer red and brown hair. He felt how much Jules trusted her. Her friend, who gave of vibrant and ever-enthusiastic vibes, had her own coffee cup cradled in her hands.

"So, spill the beans, Jules," Jules' friend said with a mischievous grin. "I saw you talking to that cute guy from our music theory class yesterday."

Noah felt how Jules was run over by a flush of embarrassment that crept up her cheeks, her heart racing at the mention of the boy. It made Noah feel weird when he was being honest. "Oh, him," she replied, attempting to sound nonchalant. "We were just discussing the upcoming composition assignment."

Her friend raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Come on, Jules. I've known you for too long. I can tell when you've got a crush."

Jules chuckled, unable to deny her friend's perceptive nature. "Okay, fine. Maybe I do find him interesting."

While her friend grinned wider, Noah's face twitched in frustration. He didn't even know why. He had no idea what the hell was going on.

When her friend started leaning in conspiratorially, Noah almost became mad. "Interesting? That's quite the understatement. You practically light up when he's around."

Jules sighed, unable to hide her affectionate smile. "He's just so talented, Meghan. And he's got this passion for music that's incredibly inspiring."

Her friend nudged her playfully. "And he's cute, right?"

Jules blushed again, her laughter tinkling like a melody in Noah's ears while the topic of conversation almost hurt him like a blade in the chest. "Yeah, he's cute. But it's more than that. He's… genuine. When he talks about music, it's like he's pouring his soul into every note."

He noticed how he furrowed his eyebrows. HE did that too. He wished someone would have talked about him like that.

Her friend, Meghan, reached across the table and squeezed Jules' hand. "I'm happy for you, Jules. You deserve someone who appreciates your passion for music just as much."

As Noah looked down at the table in front of him, his view became blurry again. The last thing he thought was, how he would loved to know Jules, but he just didn't know how to get to know her. If she even was real and his mind didn't just play a cruel joke on him.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt empty.

"Fuck." He whispered into the nothingness, hoping he hadn't disturbed his friends sleep. He quietly climbed out of his bed and went through the door to the front part of the bus. They would drive in the morning, so he had the chance to slip into a jacket and shoes to leave the bus and get some fresh air in his system. Jules quietly followed him.

She was still shaking but over the last few hours, she couldn't cry anymore. She felt empty. When she saw Ruffilo standing outside with a cigarette in his hand, she stayed back, but still lingered close enough to hear their conversation.

"Why are you still up?" Nick asked his best friend who leaned against the bus, shrugging his shoulders. "Could ask you the same thing." - "Fair."

It went quiet for a while, both of them seemingly deep in thoughts. Noah fought with himself. He literally felt like loosing his mind.

"I think I need to tell you something." Noah than breathed out and sparked Nick's interest. The latter put out his cigarette and turned his full attention to his best friend.

"I think I almost died last night." It bursted out of Noah and now it felt like he couldn't stop himself. He had to tell Nick everything.

"What?" - "I almost got run over by a car last night." Noah confessed and Nick's eyes widened as much as Jules'. Both of them couldn't believe what he just said but both for different reasons.

"Why didn't you tell me? Are you okay? What happened?" The questions bubbled out of Nick, while Jules stepped closer to them. She felt how she got angry. She already fucked up. Why did Noah have the need to tell the world about it? He might as well put a stamp of "worst guardian angel on earth" on her forehead.

"I'm fine. Someone saved me." Noah answered and his hands began to sweat. He didn't even know what exactly he was going to tell Nick, but he needed to get it out. "There was a girl. She came out of nowhere, really."

Nick nodded, gesturing him to continue talking. "She had really beautiful eyes. You won't believe me, she almost felt unreal."

"Did you catch her name? What did she look like?" Nick wanted to know, not really getting why Noah spoke of her as if he had just met the love of his life.

"Jules. I think that is her name." He than breathed out, causing Jules to flinch next to him. How the hell did he know her name? There were so many questions in her head.

"What do you mean, 'you think'? Are you sure you aren't imagining this accident? You were so wasted last night." - "I thought the same thing, but I still feel this pain on my lower back where my body hit the concrete. Also it felt so real. I saw her. I saw her face. It was like - I had seen her somewhere before..." Noah decided against telling him that he was sure the girl from his dreams had saved him, while Jules next to him internally begged for this conversation to be over.

Nick nodded but it was noticeable to everyone but Noah that he had doubts about Noah's story. It was also not noticeable to Noah that he had been the cause of Nick still being awake. His friend was worried about him and hearing him talk about a random girl like he had seen god himself, made it even worse.

"Noah?" - "Hmm." - "Please take care of yourself."

With that his friend stepped to the door of the bus and with a last "good night" he left Noah alone. Noah felt numb. He had noticed that Nick didn't believe him or at least thought something was wrong with him and it frustrated him. He decided that after the tour he should make another appointment with his therapist, because he was really afraid of suffering from psychosis.

Jules felt how uneasy Noah was. Even if she still was angry about being confronted with her mistakes, there was something else that crept up her skin again. Regret. Regret that she had shown herself unwillingly. Regret that she had touched him. Regret that she had apparently turned his life upside down by her interference.

But even though she hated seeing him like that, she also felt how her skin tingled when she thought about how she had swept him off his feet with just one look.

Either way, she knew she had to make a move. She needed to help him out of his misery as soon as possible.

PART SEVEN

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens rpf #collapsedglasshouseswrites

46 notes · View notes

kamiversee · 1 month

Note

SO I READ THIS LAST NIGHT BUT I FORGOT TO SEND AN ASK CAUSE I IMMEDIATELY SLEPT AFTER !!!

Kami please I will bow down to the ground, forehead to dirt and everything in front of you for this piece of heaven. Genuinely cried ngl, like brat tamer Choso??? Sassy Choso??? It's so WEIRD seeing Choso take the reigns when there's Gojo there too but it's so GOOD like a weird kind of good and I'm so happy to be sandwiched between the best boys ever

Applause to reader man cause sex ban for three weeks? Haven't kissed him in 16 days? Yeah I would fold after a day of the sex ban if he comes home from work grunting and groaning tiredly while taking off his clothes like ??? Kamo Choso with that deep husky voice of his would get me down on my knees the moment he steps inside his house, literally all my dignity and shame are out of the window at that point.

Like everyone else, I'm sooo fucking curious about the phone call cause to me, both are so possessive over reader so I wonder if it's just Gojo thinking with his dick that made him accept this offer (probably is ngl) Choso too like 😭 wdym you aren't a jealous boyfie you almost pummeled Ino to the ground in the cafe

Part 2 and 3 will be the literal death of me, when Choso gives orders to Gojo like yeahhh catch me at my funeral. Like no lube, no protection, eiffel tower, dp, all day, all night, no stopping. Cuck Choso is best Choso and are we maybeee maybe?? getting a glimpse of a little subby Gojo to dom Choso?

UGHSSH I WANNA GET DESTROYED BY THOSE TWO SO BAD IT AINT EVEN FUNNY. I'm going feral just thinking about it I might have to reread it again 😭😭😭

Warning; Yap sesh 😀

When I fist thought abt it, I realized Gojo & Choso really never interact directly so I thought writing them tg would be hard but it’s actually so much more easier than I thought 🥴

The only reason Choso’s so dominant (as of rn) is bc he’s in the process of putting his gf in place, take her out the equation or catch Choso when he’s feining for her & it’d be a whole different situation

But dw, the tables may turn on him a lil bit in the next part (Spoiler alert; Gojo’s a yapper.)

AND IK THREE WEEKS MIGHT BE HARD TO IMAGINE BUT, she is known for her… somewhat decent self-control as long as barriers are set ;)

Now if she drank even once within those three weeks…….. tht sex-ban wouldve been out the window 💀

ALSO ME TOO GIRLIE IM SUCH A SUCKER FOR DEEP VOICES 😩 The second Choso comes home all tired and lazy, probably humming out a low “Baby I missed you s’much,” as he’d probably try to wrap his arms around me— yeah, I’d fold.

&& I think I’ll do a lil blurb for their convo in the room just for y’all :)

Lastly, just to tease yall some more, there is a couple (but mainly one) subby Gojo & dom Choso moment— it’s only for like a split second but it’s. It’s making my brain stutter just thinking about it 😉

#kamiversee!answers

11 notes · View notes

amirsirwrites · 2 years

Note

hello! i have a request if you will. no pressure for time nor longevity! but could you write how mercs would act around an s/o with really bad anxiety who cries easy?

Hello, anon! Sure. I decided to write this in a headcanons format. I hope you enjoy reading :)

Mercs with S/O who has anxiety and cries easily ❤️

Requested

Mercs x GN!reader

------

Scout :

He's not super experienced in dealing with anxiety so he gets extremely worried when you start crying. He'll give you lots of hugs and kisses in an attempt to help you. To be honest, he might actually cry a little himself when he sees you so distraught. You might end up having to comfort him instead. I guess you could say that you comfort each other.

Soldier :

He's honestly such a sweetheart around you. He knows that loud sounds like shouting can really stress you out so he makes sure to speak in a very soft tone when you’re around. If you’re in an uncomfortable situation and about to have a panic attack, he’ll pick you up and carry you far away from that place. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the middle of a battle, he’ll do it. He also hugs and peppers kisses all over your face to calm you down, be warned though, his hugs may be a tad bit tight.

Pyro :

They’re all about physical affection so if your anxiety is starting to act up, expect a lot of hugs, head patting and mask kisses. They have a ton, and I mean A TON, of sweets saved up and they’ll gladly share them with you to help calm you down. If they can see that you’re panicking and crying in a stressful situation, they’ll hold your hand and lead you to a more quiet area.

Demoman :

Surprisingly, if your anxiety is acting up when he’s drunk, he’ll sober up straight away and help you. Actually, ever since he started dating you, he’s cut down on his drinking. He noticed how worried you are about his alcohol consumption and didn’t want to stress you out anymore. If your on the way to getting a panic attack, he’ll sit you down and massage you. His massages are the absolute best. They get you relaxed in no time.

Heavy :

If your anxiety is being triggered because there’s a lot of people around and they’re too loud, he’ll give a soul-piercing stare to them which of course, shuts them up immediately. He’s a bit hesitant but to help you relax, he’ll very gently hold you close to him, rub your back and give you forehead kisses. In addition to that, he’ll whisper comforting words to you in Russian. He’s a gentle giant that’s very worried about you.

Engineer :

He will hold your hand whenever you’re with him and he will not let go unless you ask him too. He’s very protective of you and does his best to help you avoid getting into stressful situations. If you're stuck in such a situation for whatever reason, he has a pair of noise-cancelling headphones for you so that you can relax in his arms in peace and silence.

Medic :

He knows exactly how to deal with your anxiety, being the Medic and all. When you're crying and panicking, he'll gently hold your face between his hands and instruct you to breathe along with him. After you calm down, he'll give you a proud love-filled smile and kiss you. Expect him to always carry items that comfort you. (Teddy bear, chocolates, etc.) He also tones down his 'mad doctor' attitude when you're with him.

Sniper :

He tends to avoid anxiety-inducing situations himself so you're most calm with him. If you do start to get really anxious, he likes to cuddle with you while running his fingers through your hair. He'll also hum for you so you have something to focus on. He has a really nice voice and it gets you feeling better in no time. "It's okay, roo.. I'm here." is what he'll whisper to you.

Spy :

He's actually great at calming you down. Even though he's not a big fan of physical affection, he'll gladly hug you and kiss you softly to calm you. Alongside that, he’ll be speaking French to you in a comforting tone. One of the phrases he'll say to you is, "Ca va aller, mon cœur." He'll put on some music on low volume for you. He also won't hesitate to drag you away from what's bothering you.

------

'Ca va aller, mon cœur' - It's going to be okay, my heart/sweetheart. (French)

#tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #gender neutral pyro #headcanon #tf2 headcanons #gender neutral reader #tf2 x reader

123 notes · View notes

thebottomfromhell · 10 months

Note

Reading the reunion of the upper moons with their partners was sweet and kind of sad... I loved it. Do you think you could write a similar one for the kids (Daki, Kaigaku and Ume) from your father figure post? Since you wrote to both a demon and a human parent, I would say do a version of each, but it's up to you. I'll love to read it anyway. Uah, writing about it also made me think of Rui's ending t-t

Technically Gyutaro is also Daki's, since I'm too deep into the co-parenting her with him HC. I will make one for human reader, demon reader is the x Gyutaro one, it would only need to replace the Y/N with "Otou-chan". Also demon parent is far more aware of demon's nature than humam parent. Sorry it took me a while.

Demon Kids meeting their father figure Reader in the underworld. Post of father figure here.

Warnings: A bit of ansgt (ok, a hella lot, the human parent of Daki got me crying), Mentioned reader's death (explain in Kaigaku's demon parent), Mentioned child character's death,

Demon Reader:

Zohakuten:

{You didn't say anything to Hantengu when you saw him and he doesn't notice you are there. What were you supposed to say? It's not him the one you had such a bond with, but the strongest clone. Clones, not their own individual, so none of them should have an existence besides Hantengu's Blood Demon Art. But he was not just a clone for you, he was your son. The main body shrieks and cries, trying to hug the ground or whatever this is, not wanting to move on the same way you don't. The black smoke starts to cover him as you only think about your child, then you notice said smoke is actually covering him instead of passing as air. When you can hear Hantengu anymore you go where he was and manage to grab his arm to pull him up, only to find him instead.}

You didn't want to go to hell, so you stayed here. It's boring, numb, at times stressful to the point of pain, but you are stubborn. But you would never want this for the child in front of you. "Are you ok, kiddo?" He lunges into you to hug you tight, angry face as always as you also hold him in your arms. "Those ruin villians... how dare they touch something so small. I hate them... I really hate slayers, humans are the worst." You can only chuckle, he is slightly affected by dying, but besides that he is the same as always. You pat his back, this boy has always been troblesome. "Papa... why are you here?" You lie a bit.

"I was staying around just in case you might appear." Ok, maybe that was a big lie, but still. Zohakuten looks at you as if you were stupid before scolding you "What do you mean by that?! I am the strongest form of the Uppermoon Four! You had no reason to believe I would ever arrive here you stupid old man! The villians ganged up on the main body, that's all! Damn! I should have protected the little guy better." Yup, his death barely affected him. Just fuming and resenting slayers as always. "Sorry, sorry. And don't worry, I'm sure you did all you could."

You want to stay like this forever, the same as always. You are not sure that by the time you cross the voy will just be... gone. Like all those times the clones defused and joined together into Hantengu. You don't want this existence, one into the nothing, for Zohakuten... but hell shouldn't be any better. You hide the best you can your inner conflict and ruffle the kid's head. "Tell me about it, kiddo. Let's stay here for a while, as long as you want. Ok, Zohakuten?" It's the best you can do as he starts to complain. You shall do your best.

Kaigaku:

Fucking Kokushibou, taking your child to that battle. All the other Uppermoons would have been there, he didn't need to cut you in enough pieces for sunrise to arrive before you finish to heal to the point that you can move again. You have stayed here fuming for who knows how long, also worrying. Kaigaku was afraid, so he went with Kokushibou after you reassured him it would be fine. Damn it! You are worried of what will happens once the kid realizes you are "Oyaji?" dead.... Fucking Kokushibou!

"Kaigaku? What are you doing here? Why are you here?!" Ok, now you are fuming, damn brat should be alive! Why is he dead?! Bet this is Kokushibou's fault "I swear I will wait for that mother-... how are you feeling?" Right, the boy just died, the last thing he needs is... this. What he needs is you, his oyaji. He explains the whole situation, and you just knew he should not have gone to the Infinity Castle, Kaigaku must be feeling like shit. He throws himself at you and you know that he does. "I'm sorry... for leaving you." He murmurs, face burried in your chest, so you pat his head. "Don't be silly, anyone would have done what you did if having to choose to defy Kokushibou. There may be exceptions, but nobody should blame you for trying to survive with the tools you have."

Ok, he started crying. He definetely feels like shit, and you can bately do more than try to comfort him. But then what? You know you can't keep him here forever, nobody is meant to just stay here. But you are demons, you are meant to go to hell if you die, but aren't even meant to die in the frist place. You are not like humans, who die at the slightlest things as a broken neck or a hit in the head, your only natural predator is the sun. This boy was promised to live at the least a very, very, long life. More than other humans could... and he didn't. Right now he is just a dead demon, a dead kid.

"Tell me when you are ready to keep going." Is the only thing you say as you pat the back of his head softly, "your oyaji is going to stay here with you until you are, kiddo. Just take it all out." This... only makes him cry harder, and you really don't know what to do. You can see flames at the distance and you can only hug the boy tight as you know that is the only way to go. This time someone will protect him, this time you will. "Stay by my side, son." You really hope Kokushibou dies with shame for forcing this into your kid.

Human Reader:

Zohakuten:

You are waiting... but for what? Perphabs for the boy? He was gone for those long periods of time when you died, and... you wish you could speak to him again. At least to say goodbye properly. (You didn't think it wouldn't make sense for him to appear, that as a demon, as Uppermoon Four's clone, he would never come around. You have hope, faith into something you don't really finished to understand.) "Papa?" You expected to hear that word again, but not that voice. You were hoping it would be... older (again, a proof of your willing ignorance).

You turn around to see the boy, still a boy, from the past. That little gremblin you took home and came back the same way he left, as if he was a stray cat. "Zohakuten... what-" you can't even finish as he wraps his arms around you tightly, he probably found you death some while ago, so you pet the back of his head as you hug him back. "Hey, calm down kiddo. I am here now." He just hold you tigher as he burries his face in you, refusing to say anything or let go. "Hey, it's ok." Is it? You are dead. Your kid is dead. And... there is something scary behind you, the path Zohakuten should take... hell.

You don't want him to go that way, but you know there is not much you should be able to do. No matter how you can only register him as your kid, he is a demon. You should know by now what that means, and you do, but... Zohakuten takes a deep breath before pulling apart and making eye contact as he frowns. "You were dead. I came back and you were dead... I don't.... I don't regret finding you again. I should not have lost, but I don't regret it. I am already in terms with my destiny." He seems ok with it, and that scares you even more as you turn around to see the flames the child would have to cross alone. "Then I will go with you." You decide, making the boy frown even more by the time you see him. "I am a demon, I can manage. You are a weak and old human, do you think you stand a chance? I appreciate you waiting for me, but this is only our chance to say goodbye." This brat... "Now that was just rude. Don't you trust your papa?" You laugh it off, but you can see that... he is hesitating.

He actually looks afraid as you offer your hand and smile wanting to reasure him, instead of taking it he just grabs his wrist and hold it against his chest. "I'm here for you." [But Zohakuten is afraid he will dissapear the second he steps on hell, carrying you there for no reason...] "Can.... can we stay here a little longer... talk? How have you been?" Yeah, you can do that. For as long as he needs. "Where should I start with?"

Daki + Gyutaro:

"Otou-chan! What is this place?! It's awful! Where is onii-chan?!" You turn around to the voice of the girl, and... you knew Daki was young, still a girl, but this? She can't be older than fourteen. She looks so similar, and yet so different. The thought that this was an courtesan for long enough to be an Oiran.... "Otou-chan, wake up! We need to find onii-chan!" She scolds you before taking your hand and pull you into searching Gyutaro, "ONII-CHAN!" you can feel the light that has presentes to you from day one following you, warming the space, tempting you to cross. You have no idea why you didn't before, but now... "Gyutaro, where are you?!" Thankfully, it doesn't take you that long to find him."Onii-chan!" She runs strait to him, pulling you while doing so, to start complaining again.

Gyutaro only looks at her, and by that you can't help but wonder if he is as disgusted as you with... everything. A child being a prostitute, a child being dead, a child being forced into a monster, a child going to hell, a child... you don't evenknow what else to think. Gyutaro looks at you, eyes sad but strong before turning away and walk. "The exit is there?" Says the hopeful girl, but her brother stops again and tells her to... to not follow him? He screams her protests away and you by reflex shield her with your arms. Gyutaro gives a bitter look before going away as Daki begins crying and apologizing for... not fighting better? What even happened? "You and I are not siblings anymore, you are nothing to me. Go with you dad towards the light, I will go the other way."

You realize what is happening, what Gyutaro wants, and you take the girl before she can lunge to him. "I will take care of her." He stays still for a while as Daki tries to fight your grip. She is just a girl, she can go to heaven, and doesn't have to be alone as she does. You can take care of her, this is for her best. "ONII-CHAN! DON'T YOU REMEMBER YOUR PROMISE?! YOU PROMISED WE WOULD ALWAYS BE TOGETHER! REMEMBER YOUR PROMISE!" That is what you tell yourself, it's a tough choice, but one you and her big brother took. Gyutaro gasps as in pain before he turns around, exhausted eyes, bulging more than usual and shining with tears in the right one and bloodied red on the left one, he looks at you and then to her as the red liquid fall through the red cheek. "I love you Ume, live a good life this time, ne... Goodbye."

He turns around and leaves as you hold her. "NO! I WON'T FORGIVE YOU! I WON'T FORGIVE YOU! OTOU-CHAN, LET ME GO!" You don't, you don't until the light reaches both of you... Ume... "Plum"... that will be a pretty name for her. "ONII-CHAN! ONII-CHAN, DON'T YOU DARE LEAVING ME! ONII-CHAN!!" And then there is only light with the sobs and cries of a child, a little girl, calling her big brother.

Kaigaku:

Ok, Kaigaku did expect you to die before him, obviously, he was basically a new-born demon and you an old man (not really, but he always made it clear that he was young and staying that way while you were not.) He just... didn't expect you to die so soon, both your death and the final battle came too soon. Kaigaku's death came too soon. "Is.... this can't be hell... surely this can't be hell...." Is the first thing you have heard anyone say in a while, and the voice is so scared and young the same way it's way too familiar for your liking. Because you heard it again too soon.

You could have gone to heaven, you only stayed here because... you don't know. Maybe it was that youdr stubborn mind haven't fully realized that because of Kaigaku's nature, he should have never arrived here. Maybe your human mind still thought "wait for your son, he will be here sooner than expected" and the fact that it was right hurts. It hurts to see a child so afraid and lonely like this, and your human brain denies that if Kaigaku died, no matter how many time passed, he would die as a child. You can only wrap tightly your arms around him and ask "What happened?" (Not a "Are you ok?" because something like this would never be ok.)

He explains what happened, the final battle, how he found the Zenitsu boy again, how they fought, how Kaigaku lost... "... against him of all slayers! Not even a Hashira but pathetic Zenitsu alone, who only knows one move, decapitated me!" He tells you angry, frustrated, with tears forming in his eyes. "Damn it! After everything-! He-! I-!" Kaigaku interrupts himself, not knowing what to say, so you just hug him. "I'm sorry, kiddo." There is nothing more you can say as he begins to cry in your shoulder, rubbing circles in his back as you hold him tight. "It's not fair! I always did what I had to! I had to! Why did I have to die?! I died as nothing more than an orphan and a demon, replacement of Uppermoon Six!"

You let him cry, watching hell. You really have no reason to believe you should go there, you never had, until now. "You didn't die an orphan." You tell him as you stand and offer your hand. "Let's go together from now on, son." And he takes your hand as you lead the way to the darkness, to the flames. You stay close, not knowing what will happen. "Don't worry Kaigaku. I will stay with you."

#demon slayer #kny #upper moons #the demon kids #parent reader #daki #kaigaku #zohakuten

45 notes · View notes

magpiemissy · 2 years

Text

"Your Romeo and My Juliet"

Kaeya Alberich x Reader

A/N: I was just listening to some music and the song came into shuffle. I had this idea, it was actually more painful to write than I thought. I cried a little bit. Hope you all like it.

Warnings: Angst, character deaths, not edited or proofread, english is not my first language so grammatical errors are expected, let me know if there are more

Song: Somewhere Only We Know by Keane

"You already know I'm exhausted, sweetheart." "I too, my love, am very exhausted," they murmur to each other as they gaze out the horizon. Their eyes were overwhelmed with the orange colors of the sky. "So lovely," a pained whsiper.

Wouldn't dying for each other be worth it? Love drives you nuts, mad, insane?

"I'll go to any length for you." "Anything, my snowflake," they respond, painfully smiling.

They giggled gently as the agony crept quickly across their bodies. Pained? Yes. Happy? Perhaps. At the very least, you died for him and only him, and he died for you and only you. It was worthwhile.

A risk. A tale that must now conclude with an uncertain ending? People will never know why they died, yet some may speculate that it was due to love. A forbidden love that is yet ardently pursued.

"You were not on my assignment, yet here you are. Suffering due to my actions. Why?" He begs, clutching your hand with all his might.

For a few seconds, silence filled the air. "It is easy, my darling. It's only because I adore you. I'd risk everything for you. I may appear insane, but I discovered so much for loving you. You are everything to me. You are my universe, and I can't just let go and ruin it. I love you."

They say this while tears stream down their face. Even though they are in pain, they smile at him. Their vision is gradually becoming fuzzy. Time has finally arrived, and he was the last thing you saw. Good.

You are so beautiful. Very beautiful. The final thought they had as their eyelids slowly closed but the smile never fading away.

“Y/N? Y/N, my snowflake.” He says, they hear. He moves closer despite feeling the burn of the pain, cradling them in his arms.

"Even in death, you are as ethereal as ever... I apologize. I didn't keep my end of the bargain with you. I couldn't remain forever. I failed because I never got to ask you to marry me. I let you down... and I let down my brother again. I'm sorry, Diluc," he says quietly as he feels himself fading away, yet he smiles. One more time.

His eyes are enticing due to the reflection of the orange sky. As brilliant as the stars above. But we all know that stars perish long before they reach our eyes.

“Take care of Mondstadt for me, dear brother… and take care of yourself. For me. My last request to you.” He makes one last wish. The sky eventually darkened, a large star flashing brightly as though his desire had been granted. “Thank you.”

BONUS:

"And that was the story of two of the heroes who saved Mondstadt. It was all for love, as heartbreaking as it was. We all experience typical emotions. Both are devoted to one another. They may be forbidden, yet they are fated to be together. They pursue despite the fact that it may have been the incorrect moment. However, who could blame them?”

"Love is a lot of things."

Their tale lingers on even after hundreds or millennia have gone. Many people claim that when they visit the couple's graves, they can sense their love. Buried next to each other. The pair was last seen happy and clutching each other, according to rumors. It was a tragic love story, but that's what love is.

“Sir Dawn, may we know what happened to his brother?” A teen asks.

He chuckles softly.

"No one knows. Many others found it difficult to read him. But, from what I've heard, his heart shattered once more into millions of pieces, just as when he lost his father," the guy continues, sadly smiling.

The man eventually departs the pub as the night passes.

"Oh, I see you've come to visit," a familiar voice says.

"Of course I did. They were both a huge part of my life.” he starts, "And he was still my brother no matter what."

“Well, how about I sing to you once more like the wind that we glided through back then… Master Diluc.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you, Venti.”

Both look out towards the sky, which is what the couple witnessed the last time they were together in this world.

"I hope you're happy, brother. Thank you and til we meet once more."

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin headcanons #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #kaeya imagines #kaeya alberich #kaeya x you #kaeya x male reader #kaeluc but ONLY PLATONIC #genshin fanfic #kaeya angst #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #diluc angst #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr

124 notes · View notes

sasukimimochi · 1 year

Text

MCYT / DSMP FANFICTION-

His Forever Home

Hi! Warning that this is a discontinued series, and i only have about 3 chapters but i wanted to share it since people seemed to want me to post my abandoned fics regardless of status. I'm going to post 1/2/3 together in this same post because they aren't long chapters.

I'm not sure any warnings apply, but if they do i'm going to say to just read at your own risk. i don't remember actual violence being in this fic, but if there is, there's your warning: possible but unlikely violence pffpfp - actually, maybe terminal illness could be a warning? it's not really, it's a different thing, but it feels similar, so i will add the warning. [also, no! no character was planned to die, so just letting you know there's no MCD here].

This fic is obv supposed to be platonic so don't be weird if i have worded something not quite right, especially since i wrote this two years ago now and i dont wanna proofread it lmao. please excuse any writing errors as well. I hope you enjoy it for what it is!

Theme: Awesamdad / Tommyinnit centric (child tommy); Fantasy; Adoption?

So let's get into it! fic is under the keep reading line.

His Forever Home

[1] Soundless Voice

The usual trip home was late at night today. Sam could hear the quiet rustle of leaves, ears perked up to listen to the sound. It wasn’t usually quite this calm, but he found himself enjoying it, thanking whatever watched over them for the moment of respite.

Well, until it suddenly wasn’t so quiet.

He could hear what he believed to be crying. Not so loud that it felt normal, audible but weak and filled with little strained breaths.

Sam slowed his pace, ears swiveling and red pupils sharpened in an attempt to locate where it was coming from. It wasn’t what you would expect to hear from a cry, after all there were no underlying tones of voice. It was sniffly, wet, and breathy. Regardless, it was someone or something crying and he immediately veered off the path carefully to investigate.

He didn’t find the source immediately, but it gave the man time to deduct who it was to be young, judging by the sound of their cries. He’d been around at least one or two of the members of their server being raised, and crying was just something all children did at some point. Short, messy sniffles and voiceless sobs, where there should be loud, child-like wails. It was unusual to hear.

The hybrid slowly pushed branches aside, catching a glimpse of gold and paused. “…Hello? Are you okay?” He started to move aside the leaves, only for his hands to rapidly get swatted at and for the crying to become a bit more frantic. “H-hey, it’s okay…It’s okay.” He tried to placate whoever it was, voice low and soothing as he moved back some to give the little thing more space.

“I’m just here to help…are you hurt? Are you lost?” Sam waited patiently, hoping the kid wouldn’t be too afraid to move, or worse, dart off. “I’m not here to hurt you, I promise on my honor as a Guardian.”

He waited, listening to the soft sniffles and hiccups of this potentially lost lamb as he stewed over possible things he could do to help the kid once he was actually in his custody. He held his breath as a wide, silvery eye peeked out from behind the leaves, framed by messy, muddy, golden curls and reddened, puffy skin. The kid’s eyes looked like starlight, little fractals catching light and splitting the iris with fades of distant blue until it reached his stark white pupils.

“There you are…are you okay—oof,” Sam let out a surprised grunt as the boy rushed out and slammed into him, hiding his face into the only unarmored section of the man’s torso, which happened to be the nook of his arm. Surprised, He knelt down properly to make sure the kid had support, a sadness sinking into him when he actually came into contact with the boy. He was so thin. So, so thin.

Sam gently cradled him, slowly standing and making sure the kid had support under his legs and his back so he didn’t fall. “This might be difficult, but can you speak?” The kid had just done a lot of crying, and who knows how long he’d gone without water. Sam wasn’t sure he could speak.

The child slowly looked up at the man, though he kept his head pretty low and avoided uncurling himself from his little spot against the hybrid. He pursed his mouth, eyebrows furrowed and eyes moist as if threatening once again to burst into tears. “It’s okay…” Sam quietly spoke, “We’ll figure it out. How about we get you to my home and get you a bit of food and water. When you’re ready you can tell me what happened or where I can take you to get you home.”

Sam was tired from the long day, but he had enough energy to get him home and help the kid get fed, hydrated and in bed. He was pretty thankful they fell asleep on the way back, though it did make getting his armor off when he got home a bit difficult. This kid did not want to let him go. Eventually he managed to get his armor off, and melted into his armchair, letting out an exhausted sigh.

There was so much he needed to do, but he supposed he would need to start by getting the kid cleaned and changed into something else. He would have to wait until the morning to contact anyone about the kid, though he knew a good handful of them would be up still, he didn’t want to be wrong and disturb someone’s sleep. He could handle this for the night, just a few more hours.

“Hey…?” Sam gently rubbed the kid’s back, continuing his softened tone. “You okay to get cleaned up? After you get clean you can have a bit of food, some water…” He paused, letting out another deep sigh when the child tightened his grip and pressed his face more firmly into the other’s shirt. “I can hold you again after. I’ll be right there if you need me, too—but you’re covered in mud. I can’t put you to bed like that.”

Sam felt Fran prop their legs up onto the couch and place her head onto his knee, causing the man’s ears to perk up slightly. “Do you like Puppies?” Sam was glad to see the boy eventually give a little nod. “Okay, Fran can come with us then and help keep you calm; she’s a lovely support dog.”

The kid lifted his head and stared apprehensively at the dog, but did reach out in the end to give her head a little pat. The positive response the boy received had him relaxing slightly, watching as she nuzzled his hand and booped her snoot up against his arm. “That’s it…Fran is the best lady.” Sam smiled, clicking his tongue to signal for her to get down so he could get up.

“You can pet her as much as you want while we get you clean. Would you like that?” Sam chuckled softly as the little boy nodded, glad to see him opening up little by little.

He sat the boy down on the toilet lid, finally getting to take a good look at the kid. There was no way he was 10, he must be 7 or 8 at the most, if the kid was smaller than he should be. Instead, he nearly looked like he was 6. After getting him undressed, Sam lowered him into the warm water, watching as Fran kept their nose within his reach while he gently washed the boy in little swirling circles.

What he started to notice though was a marking on the boy’s neck. It was so caked in mud that he hadn’t even noticed it at first glance, but now…as he carefully pulled away dried flakes of mud and rinsed it away, Sam’s heart dropped.

This wasn’t normal.

But what was worse, once the mud was gone, it was bleeding. Thing is, it should not be. There were no openings in his skin, no cut, merely darkened marks in a swirl-like burn. Inwardly, Sam shuddered in horror at the thought someone could do something like this to a child.

Sam paused when the kid touched his face, eyes focusing back on the little, now clean, face of the boy. Angry, but worried. That was an interesting expression.

“I’m okay, kid. Did I worry you?” Sam smiled a bit, draining the very dirty water so he could finish cleaning the boy with fresh water from the shower head and one of the goat milk soaps he owned. The kid huffed softly, but closed his eyes as water ran back over his head.

In a matter of moments, they were wrapped up in a big fluffy towel and on the couch. “Okay, let me patch that neck of yours and then I can make you a bit of food.” The boy watched as Sam wandered to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, hands buried in Fran’s fur.

Sam wasn’t exactly a nurse, but he was able to successfully patch and wrap the marking loosely, just enough so that blood wouldn’t get everywhere wherever he went. “That feels better?” Sam hummed, pleased with the nod of affirmation. “Alright, you just stay here with Fran a little longer, okay? I’ll make you something to eat and then I’ll see what we can do about something for you to wear until later.”

And he needed to figure out the kid’s name. While the kid wasn’t able to talk, hopefully he was old enough that he knew how to write a little.

After a good long moment of staring at the fridge, eventually Sam started to make tea sandwiches. Sam really hoped the kid liked cucumber and cream cheese because he really needed something in his stomach, even if he started small. He reheated soup for himself, soon settling back on the couch next to the two.

Sam started by helping the kid drink some cold water, but moved to the sandwich relatively quickly, holding it up for him. “Here…try this?” He moved it to within reach of the boy’s mouth. “It’s really good, I like having these when I’m sick, or can’t eat much.”

The boy looked very unsure, but eventually did take a bite. Slowly, he held it himself and started to work through it bite by bite, until he’d finished one half and the entire glass of water. “Good job.” Sam praised, “Do you want the other half?” He paused and upon receiving a shake of the head, he continued, “That’s alright. I’ll put it away for later.”

Sam worked on eating his dinner while the kid tangled his hands into Fran’s fur. By the time he was done, the kid was dozing again, head pressed against her brow. Like the wonderful dog she was, she supported the child, adjusting her head as needed to keep him from falling.

Sam didn’t have children’s clothes. Not something small enough to fit the boy at least. He sighed at the clothes he owned, gently pushing hanging clothes to the side as he tried to find something he could maybe work with. Nothing was that small though. He furrowed his brow, staring at the closet and letting out a deep sigh of frustration.

Well, I could probably tear up an older shirt and make it smaller somehow for the night…

He dug into some old boxes, eventually pulling out one of his old tees from when he was younger, dark blue and grey and in no way fitting him any longer.

“That’ll do…” He stared at it, wondering what he could do to make it smaller, before draping it over his arm and wandering to his workshop. Soon, he’d pinched the cloth together on its back and sewn along the line, so that it would at least not completely fall off his little body when he put it on.

The kid didn’t seem too entirely interested in getting up at this point, but once Sam came back he had his hands up as if begging to be lifted. “Put this shirt on and we can tuck you in, if you want Fran can sleep with you tonight, too.”

After a bit of squirming, the kid was covered and once again saddled on Sam’s arm while he carried them to the bed. “Fran? Come on, good girl.” He petted across her head after she hopped onto the bed, then pulled back the blanket to tuck the boy in. “There we go…comfy now?” He sat beside the bed, starting to dig through the drawer on the side table to find one of his memo books.

Sam could feel the kid’s eyes on him, boring into the side of his head as if he wanted something, so he wasn’t surprised to see the kid staring at him when he moved back to face him. “Can you write? At least your name, and if you can manage anything else, maybe how you’re feeling…?” Sam held out the little notebook, glad to see the kid actually start to use it once he had it in his hands.

T O M M Y.

S L E E P Y.

Tommy’s writing was all uppercase, and very messy. At least he didn’t seem to be in pain though, that was always a plus. “Hello Tommy…it’s nice to meet you. Since you’re sleepy I’ll go ahead and let you be, Fran can stay here with you—“ Sam had moved to get up, but stopped when Tommy grabbed onto his arm and looked up at him with pleading eyes, he doesn’t have it in him to pull away.

“Alright…I’ll stay, I’ll stay.” He moved his hands to instead card through the boy’s damp curls, watching as he relaxed and leaned into his hand. Sam had a small thought, but he decided to promptly ignore it. He was not getting attached; he didn’t even know where the kid came from.

As the child fell asleep though, Sam’s chest was warm and his smile soft.

He was probably doomed from the start.

[2] The Six Swans

Sam woke up feeling somewhat suffocated. He lifted his head off the bed, and very quickly realized why. A certain boy had wrapped himself around his head and he had a face full of shirt and bony torso. “Mmm?? Tommy…?” He wriggled himself loose and took a deep breath, laughing quietly as they instead wrapped their arms around Sam’s shoulders and nuzzled into his collar bone.

Sam gently lifted the boy, gently clicking his tongue to alert Fran while he cradled Tommy to his chest. “Alright, alright…Sleepy boy is still quite tired I see…” He stretched his own legs as he walked, yawning quietly as he dug in a drawer looking for something he could sling the boy in. “This’ll have to do…” As it turns out, his apron was a really good sling if he tied it right. Good thing the kid wasn’t a newborn, only thing Tommy needed was a little support to stay clung to his neck.

“How about some breakfast, hm?” Sam gently petted the top of the little boy’s sleepy head, smiling quietly as he opened the freezer to grab some frozen fruits. “I wonder if Dream is too busy at this hour…” He sighs, chopping the fruit a little bit so they were more manageable for his blender. “Do you like bananas?” He gently asked, waiting for the feeling of their little head moving to confirm the nod. “Alright, banana berry smoothie it is. Sorry the blender will be a bit loud…”

After he added in a splash of milk, one hand being used to help cover the other’s ears while the blender runs. The boy squirms slightly from the noise, burying his face further into their shoulder and huffing. Sam rolled his eyes and smiled, sooner than later hitting the off switch and moving to get something that he could eat out of while humming a quiet tune.

The familiar tune had Tommy’s hands tightening and relaxing into little fists. God, someone was going to have to pry the child away from him at this rate. He hoped once he found out who the kid belonged to that he could at least come visit from time to time, maybe baby sit.

“Alright…can I put you down so you can eat?” Sam took the bowl over to the couch, managing to get Tommy to let go and sit bundled in one of the throws he usually had laying over the cushions. “Think you can eat a few bites of this?” Sam got a small spoonful and brought it up to the others lips, pleased when the boy took a few tentative sips.

The sleepy boy looked all rosy in the morning, hair a messy mop of curls and cowlicks, cheeks bright pink and eyes half-lidded with drowsiness. Sam’s ears lowered, letting out a low, concerned warble when Tommy started to refuse more after only a few sips. “It’s okay…we’ll try again around lunch.”

It didn’t take long for the boy to reach up, silently asking to be carried again. Sam smiled sadly and gently pulled him up to nestle into his shoulder again.

Awesamdude: Hey, Dream? You too busy rn?

Dream: mm. not really, just woke up though. whats up?

Awesamdude: I found a kid on my way home last night.

Dream: you what? they ok?

Awesamdude: Sort of. I need you to come look at his code, like there’s a mark on his neck.

Awesamdude: he’s not said a word to me since I took him in, and I’m concerned he might be like…I don’t know, something seems wrong and without him being able to speak to me I can’t figure out what it is.

Dream: A mark?

Awesamdude: It’s not like a scar, but it bleeds and it kinda looks like a burn. It…I don’t know, it could me an intentional thing placed on him.

Awesamdude: I have managed to get a little food and water in him, but he’s thin. I don’t know how long he’s been out there.

Dream: something intentional… okay, I’ll be over soon, alright? I’ll let Niki know you need some clothes for him. How big is he?

Awesamdude: He’s about the size of a 6 year old. Really thin, he’s probably just shy of 3 ft tall so he’s still really tiny…

Dream: jesus they’re just a kid…

Awesamdude: yeah, I butchered an old shirt of mine so he wasn’t running around in his birthday suit.

Awesamdude: Anyway, see you when you’re here. Little guy is really clingy, think he’s got some separation anxiety.

Dream: right, see you soon

Sam let out a deep sigh and dismissed his comm, leaning back against the couch while rubbing gentle circles into the boy’s back. His ears turned up, tilting his head down slightly to listen to their breathing.

The boy’s lungs were crackling quietly, breath warm and shallow. It was almost like… Sam’s heart dropped and he carefully swaddled the boy in his make-shift sling again, hand supporting the back of his head as he wandered to the bathroom to forage in the medicine cabinet. “Under your tongue,” He whispered, gently poking a thermometer into his mouth, and waited.

Sam furrowed his brow, letting out a worried sigh as he shook the thermometer. Tommy had a fever, and while it wasn’t too high right now, he guessed it would get worse before it got better. In his weak condition, he didn’t like those odds.

Awesamdude: please bring a fever potion, if you can get more I’ll pay you back

Dream: will do

For now, Sam went about blending more fruit smoothies and putting them into popsicle molds. If the kid’s temperature got worse, he’d need ways to regulate it as much as he could—freezing little trays with water for ice cubes if he couldn’t stomach the smoothies, and putting water and juice into the fridge to keep it nice and chilly.

“Tommy, a friend of mine will be here soon…he’s going to look at your code and see what’s wrong with your throat…” Sam felt the boy move slightly, indicating he’d been heard. “I can keep holding you for now, but realistically I can’t keep you on me all the time…” He felt the child’s grip tighten, and he deflated slightly, ears drooping a bit. “Fran can keep you company while I use the bathroom and stuff.”

Sam sighed quietly as he felt their little hands tighten on his clothes and release. He needed to have someone around to help him curb this separation anxiety.

A knock had his ears perking up, setting aside the rag he was wiping the countertop with and moved towards the entrance to hit the opening button with his foot. “Hey, thanks for coming so early in the morning…” Sam shook the man’s hand briefly yet firm, as they usually did.

Tommy curled up more, pressing his face into Sam’s neck as if trying to escape the noise. Sam gently made a ‘shhhh’ noise and rubbed circles into his small back, looking up with a pleading expression to the man. “Did you get the potion? He’s got a fever…” He speaks softly, not wanting to disturb the boy more than he already had.

The shorter man pulled his hood down and removed his mask, giving a soft hum of concern. “I did, I’ll take a look at his code first though before we introduce that to his system.” Dream walked in and then sat down the satchel he’d been carrying, removing a string of tied potion bottles from the bag and hung them on a hook above the counter.

“You said you found him last night?” Dream’s brow furrowed, forest green eyes with hints of sun-kissed lime scanning over the two.

“Yeah…in the forest, on the way back from my current build.” Sam sat in front of Dream, letting the smaller male hover his wrapped hands over the bundle in his arms. The glow coming from his hands flurried with numbers, pupils scanning the child’s figure as he slowly moved his hands over different areas of his form.

Tommy’s eyes opened slightly, giving a soft breath that sounded a bit scared, and right after little hands flying up to hold onto Sam’s ears and pulling. “Ow! Ow, owow, Tommy, Tommy, easy—“ Sam gently pulled the other’s fingers off his ears and frowned slightly in concern, gently rubbing their little palms with his thumbs. “It’s okay, I’ve known him for a really long time, he’s not gonna hurt you…he’s just checking your code. It’s confusing, but it’ll help us figure out what’s happening with you.”

Tommy made a few noises with his breath that Sam deducted as what could be silent whimpers, really wishing at that moment he didn’t have a giant bulky mask on so he could nuzzle their hair.

“Shhh…shh, shh,” Sam gently ran his fingers through the little boy’s hair, doing his best to calm the boy so Dream could finish. “Do you want to pet Fran again?” He clicked his tongue, said dog trotting up to the two, partially hopping up on the chair, then weaseling her snout in between their two bodies so she could lick the boy’s cheek and make little huffs in his face.

Tommy seemed to get into a better mood, wrapping his arms around her snout and resting his head against hers. Sam let out a relieved sigh, gently petting his back but avoiding Dream’s hands until he was done.

“…Sam, uh…” Dream rubbed the back of his neck, brows furrowed so much more tightly than before. “I don’t…know if he’ll…” He cleared his throat when Sam’s face dropped. “Uh, he’s…cursed, Sam. He hasn’t said anything because he can’t, and it’s not doing anything good for his body, either.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, voice uncharacteristically sharp, yet soft. Not angry, but on the edge of despair. Dream wasn’t surprised, Sam cared a lot about his friends and family, but…this was a stranger. To Dream, it sounded the same as if Sam would have been told one of his close friends was terminally ill. This kid had certainly wiggled into his heart quickly…

“Sam…” Dream looked hesitant for a moment, then opened up his comm to give Sam a private message, which the man promptly opened.

Dream: The curse is killing him. He’s too young to properly recover from it- an adult could survive it and just live mute, or live long enough to break it, but…he’s going to get a lot worse.

Dream: Sam, I think he’s too delicate.

Sam’s hand shook on the communicator, swallowing thickly with glassy eyes. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t let it happen, there had to be a way—another ping came through.

Dream: The best you can do is help him stay comfortable. I’ll try to find his family, and I’ll try to figure out if there’s any way to lift it…Don’t let yourself get more attached. The hopes aren’t high.

He knew what Dream said was true. But that didn’t stop the tears running down his face. It didn’t stop how much it hurt. It didn’t stop the ache.

Don’t take my child away.

[3] Summertime Sadness

Sam slowly moved his thumb across Tommy’s back, very aware of his hand as he stared at the small, sleeping boy.

“I think he’s too fragile.”

“The best you can do is help him stay comfortable.”

Sam’s eyes welled up again, breath catching in his throat. Cursed…the child he’d found was cursed and dying. He gently stroked the child’s spine, letting himself feel the little bumps and dips and watching as he breathed.

Why should a child have to die? Nothing he did, as a child, would deserve this kind of punishment. Tommy was so sweet, tired, but so sweet and soft and…small.

He barely had it in him to do what he needed to, making sure the kid got a bit food and water in him, kept him comfortable, carried him around close with his little head pressed into the man’s shoulder.

I got that summertime, summertime sadness—

Sam had the radio playing quietly on the counter as he gently swayed in the center of his living room, humming quietly along to the lyrics as he listened to the little thing breathe shakily on his chest. He found out quickly that Tommy slept the best when he laid over his heart, something about the rhythmic beat soothing his bones.

Dancin' in the dark, in the pale moonlight—

Sam’s voice cracked softly, trying his best to keep himself together but failing miserably the longer he thought about the small child’s fate. What could he do? He was just a hybrid.

Think I'll miss you forever, Like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky—

Sam tucked his head over those soft, golden locks, eyes closing as tears slipped down his cheeks and onto the new cotton mask he wore. He really was gonna miss this kid.

I got that summertime, summertime sadness Summertime, summertime sadness—

Sam let out a soft sob, feeling the curls rub against his chin as Tommy moved to lift his head. Wide, silver hues matched bright green and blues, the overflowing tears falling onto his little cheeks. “I’m sorry…” Sam whispered, “I-I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The kid raised his hands, small palms and little fingers holding his clothed face. His face looked sickly, but he had that fiery look in his eyes again, that—that determination, that look that was just so Tommy, like nothing was ever going to take him down.

Sam’s features softened, and his ears lowered as this kid comforted him. He didn’t need to hear a word to understand that this child was telling him to stop giving up.

It felt special. He’d been in love before, but not like this. It felt like he was holding sunrays, blighted by rain clouds but never losing its light. He loved this kid, he wouldn’t let him fall to this.

He was going to find the way, even if he had to give up part of himself to do it.

“Thank you, Tommy.” Sam let his smile reach his eyes, leaning in to rest his mouth against the other’s curls, hand supporting the child’s head. “One way or another, we’ll make it through this. You’ll make it through this.” Sam smiled slightly as he felt the other tug on his ears, finding that it hurt less and became more endearing when Tommy did it.

Even though he was still scared for what could happen, he’d try to keep up hope. He’d be the pillar Tommy needed.

Got that summertime, summertime sadness Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh

Sam was helping Tommy hold an ice pop to eat when he heard a knock on his door. “Oh…” He wandered over to the door and kicked the button gently, watching as the door opened to reveal his smiling, pink and blonde haired friend.

“Niki! Hey, I was wondering when you were coming by.” He welcomed the girl in, careful not to bring his voice up too much so that Tommy stayed comfortable. “How are you?” He asked, making sure the door closed properly before turning back to her.

“I’m doing very well, thank you.” She smiled, rosy irises giving a bit of a sparkle in greeting. “I heard you needed some baby clothes, so I have delivered.” She held up her bag, stuffed to the brim with possibilities. “I had to do some guesses in size, but I can adjust things if they’re too big.”

She giggled when it looked like Tommy frowned at her for the baby comment, “I’m sorry…they’re for a big man like yourself.” Tommy nodded a bit, continuing to make a mess on the towel Sam had placed between Tommy and his chest to make sure he wasn’t getting covered in juice.

Sam smiled, tail flicking behind him. “Thank you so much Niki…I really appreciate it, I feel bad making him wear nothing but my big shirts.” Niki waved a hand and placed the bag on the counter, starting to sort through it, one article at a time.

“I got this little sweater here, it’s pink because I had a lot of that laying around, but it's pale enough to not be too extreme.” She held up a small sweater, soft and adorned with a golden sun in the middle. “My favorite is this light blue one with the sunflowers though—“

And soon, Tommy was cleaned up and in a new set of clothes. Along with that, Niki had brought a new sling that would work much better for supporting Tommy while he was being carried around.

Sam had decided on him wearing the sunflower top with dark blue shorts, and luckily it wasn’t so big it fell off of him, so they decided the others could be adjusted while he wore this outfit. “You look handsome,” Sam gently informed, chuckling softly as Tommy, now exhausted, nuzzled back into his shoulder. “Thank you Niki…cash in a favor from me anytime. I owe you.”

Niki smiled brightly and waved her hand. “It’s no problem. When he gets better you should take him to the bakery so I can spoil him.” Niki giggled, finishing folding the clothes she needed to adjust back into her bag. “Do you need any help? I can watch him for a bit while you have a shower.”

Sam debated, hand quietly petting Tommy’s back. “I would like a shower…but he’s got quite a bit of separation anxiety. He might be okay if Fran is here with you two…we could try it briefly?” He didn’t really want to leave Tommy, but he hadn’t showered in a couple days. It would be nice.

“Sure…we’ll take it slow.” Niki took off her extra top, approaching the two as Sam untied the sling and helped Niki get situated with Tommy. Tommy seemed a bit too tired to really fight it, but when Sam pulled his hands away, he furrowed his small brow and held out a hand in Sam’s direction, letting out a whimper-like breath.

“Aw, Tommy…it’s okay, I’ll be right back I promise…and Fran will be here, and Niki. Niki is really sweet I promise.” Sam let the other hold his finger, ears lowering in an attempt not to make too big of a display of affection in front of Niki. “I’ll give you all the nuzzles you want when I’m back.” He gently cooed, flushing slightly as Niki smiled knowingly at him.

Fran came quickly when called, joining Niki and Tommy on the couch and gently laying her muzzle over Tommy’s lap, which soon became the boy’s pillow. “If he gets feverish give him a small dose of the fever medicine. There’s ice in the freezer if it gets bad, oh and I made him some snacks—“

“It’ll be okay, Sam.” Niki chuckled softly, “It’s okay. You’re only leaving to shower, he should be fine, and I know how to take care of kids, even sick ones.”

Sam paused and laughed nervously, “Ri-Right, sorry Niki…I’ll try not to be long.” He turned, glancing back at Tommy to make sure he wasn’t anxious before he disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Sam wasn’t the one that was supposed to have separation anxiety.

So why was he so anxious without that little weight on his shoulder? He sighed, forehead pressing against the shower tile as lukewarm water ran down his back.

Focus on the soothing things.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, watching as water pitter-pattered onto the deepslate tile beneath his feet. He closed his eyes, imagining what life could be like if Tommy’s curse gets broken.

He imagined warm summer afternoons, faces buried in watermelon rinds and giggling when fireflies fluttered by. Leaf piles in the fall, flurries of laughter and warm apple cider. Snowmen and sledding in the winter with hot chocolate and sweet marshmallows. Springtime puddles and croaking frogs on lily pads.

It was warm, cozy and potentially theirs.

And best of all, he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

He’d have a kid.

He opened his eyes, moving his hand to the shower handle so he could shut the supply off. “…” He stared at the drip from the emptied spout, eventually releasing it and stepping out of the shower so he could get dry.

He ruffled his hair in a hand towel, throwing on his usual style of clothes before stopping to look at himself in the mirror.

He was supposed to be the calm, cool, and collected one. More like a big brother than a…

Father.

He stared at himself, slowly placing his hands onto the counter and staring at his features. Realistically, Sam shouldn’t be taking on this kind of responsibility. He was in his 20’s, barely legal to drink and certainly had been mostly focused on having fun at this point in his life.

He stepped back, slowly squeezing his dripping tail in his towel and looking at what he was presenting himself as. He looked cozy, like someone his loved ones could lean on; at the same time he looked professional, like he could take up his guardian duties at any moment and protect the settlement like he was trained to.

He was a guardian to protect everyone in their server.

He stood straight, but soon relaxed back into his somewhat slouched state.

Do I even need to be a father? There’s still a chance we’re able to find his family.

He ran his fingers over the stubble on his jaw, thoughtful expression on his face. Did it matter how he felt in this situation? Well, it did. But, what mattered more here is that Tommy needed family. And he could be that until further notice.

He flicked his tail, the damp and wet fur flinging from side to side as he dumped his dirty clothes in the nearby hamper.

When he finally left the steamy room, the two starlight hues met his, and his worries melted away again.

That’s my kid.

Tommy’s face brightened, lifting his head and pushing his arms against Fran’s head even when his hands shook from the effort.

Sam smiled, walking over to the three cozy individuals and kneeled beside them, patting Fran and nodding to Niki. It was such a relief to have the little bundle tucked against his chest again, causing a quiet, low warble to roll in his throat.

“Couldn’t stay gone long. I missed my big, brave man.”

---

So thats it!

i just realized i used a speech-to-text for the outline LMAO i do not think you guys will wanna read it. i did a challenge of drawing and writing at the same time and that's what i did, but it was poorly LMAO

Um, if you guys really want me to clean it up let me know and i'll post that separately. It won't be super fantastic but i'll go over the main points!

find the companion fic "Boar Brothers" [which is also not finished] here.

21 notes · View notes

andromedadoesntwrite · 9 months

Text

Don't Kiss and Tell; Better Yet Don't Kiss at All

Okay, so this is my first time posting a fic, so have mercy on me :). Enjoy the first chapter of a little Modern day AU teenage everlark story I'm working on.

Summary: After a drunken tantrum, Katniss is left feeling unwanted and foolish. Meanwhile Peeta is left feeling confused and guilty.

sidenote: i listened to sextape by deftones while writing katniss' pov and good intent by kimbra while writing peeta's. idk might enhance reading experience :)

Chapter 1: Don’t Kiss and Tell; Better Yet, Don’t Kiss at All

Katniss

"God, is the idea of kissing me so disgusting to you?"

I say to Peeta as he refuses to kiss me. His eyes are glassy, and I can't help but roll my eyes in response and hide the small bite of pain in my voice with a small chuckle. It's just a silly, drunken dare that everyone’s done at least once in their life. The fact that we've been friends since forever makes it, honestly, a tad insulting. It may have to do with the fact that I’ve had a few more shots than I can handle, but I find it a bit offensive that my best friend finds me repulsive and unkissable.

"Kat, I'm not kissing you, okay?"

He says as he puts his hands on my shoulders. His strong and firm demeanor pisses me off even more. He's treating me like a child, a drunk child. I can't help but push his shoulders off and scowl. This is gonna be great for my self-esteem. But to be honest, I'm just a bit hurt that he immediately said no when Jo dared him. As he says it, I just scoff and chuckle in disbelief at how serious he's taking this whole thing, but to be fair he isn’t the one close to tears here.

"Fine, fine. I get it… Jo dare him to do something else because apparently kissing me is too far."

Trying to seem unbothered and unamused is way harder when you’re three shots into the night. So instead, I just look somewhere else to avoid his gaze. His desperately looking for mine, I assume to look into my eyes and puke as he realizes I'm not enough for him.

"Kat, listen- it's not like that."

He says in a hurried voice as the rest of the group moves on from him to the next person to dare. None of them care, they're either too high or drunk to care. The only comfort I find in it is that at least no one seems to notice how badly my eyes itch to cry. God, this is so stupid. I knew it was all just in my head.

"Hey, Peeta… I get it. No hard feelings."

I say trying to smile as I can’t believe I'm actually affected by this. He’s allowed to not want to do it; I just didn't expect him to be so utterly against it.

"No, Katniss, let me explain…"

I don't even let him finish as I get up and decide I'm just gonna head out for the night. I've had way too much to drink, and it's making me way too emotional. That must be it as I feel my head spin when I get up. That's just it, it's the night’s fault, not my unrequited crush on my bestfriend. His voice follows me as I gather my things and leave. I look at Jo and nod my head to signal I wanna leave. She's a great friend because she doesn't even question it and gets up to leave with me, scowling at Peeta. Funny how we actually became friends through him.

"Way to go, Asshole."

Jo helps me into the passenger side of her car and sighs whenever she can’t get my seatbelt on me. I feel like a bag of bones with the urge to do nothing but cry myself to sleep. She mutters curses under her breath as she finally gets me securely seated in her car.

"If you puke or even think about puking, you’re dead, Brainless"

She warns me in full seriousness but for a reason that gets a laugh out of me. A maniacal laugh that I then feel turns into a silent sob into the side of the passenger seat. I must be insane since I can't remember the last time I cried in front of someone—well, someone that wasn’t Peeta. And that was a bad thought to have because now I can’t stop thinking about how badly he didn’t wanna kiss me tonight. I feel like I cry for hours as Johanna tries her best to soothe me. I don’t even bother on telling her that she doesn't need to even though I sense how hard of a time she's having at seeming caring. I instead just let myself be patted on the head by one of Jo’s hands as the other drives us home. It's only when the car stops that I manage to stop the tears rolling down my now aching face. I turn my head up and find Jo with an uncomfortable expression on her face as she tries to seem empathetic. I can’t blame her. This has never been our dynamic. This is something that Peeta does best.

"Hey I’m sorry-"

"Its okay Jo."

I say through the snot on my upper lip and I can see her shoulders visually relax as she sighs, being freed of the awkward conversation she felt we needed to have. She already did more than enough anyways and I appreciate her. No matter how uncomfortable it might be next week in school. I get out of her car and stumble slightly as I get home. Hoping Haymitch is passed out by this hour. Fortunately he is, so I sneak to my room and fall asleep. Tired, sore and embarrassed.

Peeta

I think I'd rather die and go to hell than having to stand another sermon from my mom’s church youth pastor. I can’t believe mom got dad to drag Ryen and I to church hungover. It's like she knows and just wants to punish us, because when have we ever been devoted Christians? Certainly not when mom got pregnant with Oliver when she was 18 and certainly not after all the dumb shit Ryen saw me do last night. But the worst thing of all is that by sitting down in these uncomfortable chairs and being forced to silently listen to this 19 year old tell us all about temptation and carnal sins, I’m left to do nothing but think about Katniss’ insulted expression as I refused to kiss her. Her scowl turned into a soft dejected face as I said I wouldn't. It left me reeling as she left the party way earlier than what I knew she had intended. Leading me to take less than honorable decisions. My head hurts just to think about how much I drank last night. All in hope to get rid of the confusion of her expression. Why did she look so hurt? I wasn’t gonna kiss her. Not for a dare and not when she was borderline drunk. Not like that. Maybe I should've just kissed her. Maybe it would have helped prevent how offended she got and maybe she would have stayed the rest of the night. But I simply could not.

"Why do you look so depressed?"

Ryen asks me with a whisper and an elbow nudge, snapping me out of my daze.

"I’m just hungover"

I whisper back to him, never dropping my eyes from the pastor as he goes on and on about sex before marriage or whatever the fuck he’s been rambling about for the past hour. Ryen eyes me and shoots me a look that calls out my bullshit. I ignore it, feigning sudden interest in the sermon.

"So it has nothing to do with a certain black-haired archer?"

My eyes snap back to him with a surprised look and before I can even ask how he knows, he rolls his eyes at me and laughs.

"Your friend Finn told me that might be the reason you decided to get so wasted last night."

My cheeks are now tinted pink. He's gonna tease me about it forever, fuck. I dart my eyes to my hands to hide how embarrassed I am. Hopefully only God knows how much I’ve wanted to kiss her. Ever since I first met her on our first day of kindergarten. Ever since I heard her sing the Valley Song at our school’s choir. Ever since I offered to share my lunch with her when I saw she had none. Ever since I’ve known her my heart has undeniably beaten for her. And to know I hurt her last night is killing me. Ryen thankfully doesn’t press me for details and instead just goes back to listening to the pastor. Usually he’d tell me to move on or confess to her already but today I’m glad he doesn’t.

The pastor or better said dropout-who-happens-to-be-the-head-pastor-Crane’s kid lets us go and we meet back with our parents at the outside of the church. My mom shoots Ryen and me a deadly look that without any words scolds us for drinking too much last night. So this was a punishment all along. We get home and I do nothing but paint my frustrations away. Debating on whether I should text her or simply wait for Monday to come and force me to talk to her. I finally decided to leave it up to fate and to just go to bed for the night. Hopefully my pillow gives me the answers I need.

#everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #the hunger games #katniss and peeta #the hunger games fanfiction #teeneverlark #thg #tbosas #johanna mason #finnick odair #fanfic #everlark headcanons

10 notes · View notes

rindomness · 1 year

Note

what do you like about Carlos? (jackdaw) ( grdhgfyg my questions are basic because I do not know much about wtnv but don’t mind being spoilt)

FAIR WARNING: this is, like, really long? it is five pages long and that's on 11pt Arial in google docs, where I had to copy and paste it so I could fix paragraph spacing so it would post. Also, I like, legit cried while writing this? So there is that also. like thank you for the blorbo talking enabling but also i do not know if you fully grasp what youve unleashed. idk if i fully know what youve unleashed

Because what don't I like about Carlos? He is my chief blorbo. He is the Guy I think the most about. I'm a little bit beyond just blorbo thoughts about him.

Okay let's break this down a little bit 'cause there's, to put it simply, a lot. Like, fifteen thousand words and counting of fic a lot? Also, I'm gonna be getting into, like, super recent stuff and also It Devours! here so just heads up on that

So. Carlos. Carlos shakes up the entire status quo, helps put the world back together, and becomes a critical element of Night Vale. That's on a narrative level. I'm gonna start with that because that's easier for me to talk about and also won't get me called out quite as quickly!

Carlos is a driving force in the narrative, in the world. Carlos shows up in town at the very start of the podcast, says he is here to study the most scientifically fascinating place in the U.S., and proceeds to uproot every single bit of Night Vale's centuries-long status quo. Carlos shows up and turns the entire universe on its head, at least in Night Vale. If I'm going to talk about how powerful, exactly, Carlos's impact is, I need to talk about Cecil. Of course I have to talk about Cecil.

Cecil announces, on live radio, that he fell in love with Carlos immediately. Cecil instantly attaches his attention to Carlos. I talked about this a little bit more in the Night Vale essay (over here) but Cecil is vital for the continued functioning of Night Vale. In mundane terms, Cecil on the radio serves as a giver of instructions and updates and ways to stay safe in this unbelievably dangerous town. In a less mundane sense, he's the Voice of Night Vale, which is an actual title, and sort of... represents his place as the center of Night Vale's community (which contains that more mundane element) and also as the center of this weird little pocket universe Night Vale is stuck in for the first five years at least. Because Huntokar loves Night Vale and Huntokar loves Cecil and Huntokar is a god and a god's love can be a dangerous thing.

But Cecil falls in love with Carlos. Carlos, who is a scientist, who deals in observation and acknowledgement and recording information and learning from it all. Things which Night Vale, a town with a very tenuous grip on its own reality, is innately allergic to. Night Vale is built upon the necessity of ignorance and denial for survival and continued existence. It depends on Cecil, the Voice of Night Vale, not changing, not growing, not looking, not for real. And he falls in love with a scientist, and he changes.

Narratively, it's absolutely insane how much power Carlos holds. Given the rules of the universe, Carlos is incredibly powerful. In Night Vale, perception is reality and acknowledgement becomes a threat to the powers that be. If it were anyone except Carlos, there is absolutely no way that any of the enforcement entities in town would let him get away with even a little bit of what he's able to. But Cecil loves him. I fully ascribe to the idea that Carlos's miraculous rescue and survival in One Year Later is because of Cecil, and Cecil refusing to accept that Carlos was dead. Cecil is powerful. And he's been protecting Carlos, in ways he might not even realize. Which means that Carlos is free to acknowledge Night Vale's weirdness, and because perception is reality in Night Vale, it changes for him.

I'll get back to this more later, but you see this a lot with the University of What It Is. If anything, that's what the UOWII arc is about. It's been a thesis since at least Who's A Good Boy? and Cecil wandering through the ruins of Night Vale, announcing that he must bear witness, even though he is sure his mic is not broadcasting to anyone. Perception is reality and acknowledgement is what is keeping Night Vale together post-Matryoshka and what kept it from toppling into the abyss to begin with. Carlos becomes unbelievably powerful in this way, in this understanding of the power of observation and recording. (I promise we will get back to the UOWII but I want to spend actual time on that and I have other stuff I wanna talk about first.)

Carlos does not seem to realize this, though, not for a while. I personally don't think that it really clicks for Carlos entirely what perception is reality means in the case of Night Vale until somewhere around Toast. I do not think it really clicks for Carlos how important he has become here, how much of an impact he has had, until reality itself starts to fall apart. The key of Carlos, and Carlos's impact, and what makes this Night Vale the True Night Vale as opposed to any of the other Night Vales we learn about, is the presence of Carlos. Every Night Vale has a Cecil, because the existence of Night Vale hinges on the existence of Cecil. There is only one Carlos, though.

Carlos only exists in this one reality. Carlos only exists in this one version of Night Vale. And we see how much that has changed things! We see it in The Missing Sky, when we hear the miniature city's Cecil and how sad he is. This Cecil is despondent, and cannot see any reason to keep going. He is deep, deep in a terrible dissociative depression, reporting on a pointless war and a missing sky and a god he believes has abandoned them. We see it in Cal, with the version of Cecil who never met Carlos, either, and Cal himself. The simple, stated question of "do you have a girlfriend yet?" sets all the scene we need for Cal. This Cecil does not have a Carlos, and he does not even have the safety in the knowledge that Night Vale is a safe place for him to announce, loudly, to the whole world, that he loves another man. And it's... depressing.

The podcast is from Cecil's point of view, so we get most of this information from listening to Cecil talk. We don't really see Carlos's perspective often, if ever, if not filtered through the way he interacts with Cecil. For that, I take us now to It Devours! because oh boy. It is very clear that Carlos loves Cecil very very deeply. If only from what we get in voicemails and phone calls. I haven't listened to it, but my understanding is that he's very clear about his love for Cecil in Condos, too. And we get it from his actions in Taking Off/Review and the way he picks up everything he's been doing for a year in the desert otherworld to go back to Night Vale and to Cecil because he loves Cecil and wants that to be his home.

Except, it wasn't a year. It was ten. And this information is revealed right alongside Carlos cares about the people he loves more than anything and the book-long element of Carlos trying, despite the wishes of City Council, to investigate the desert otherworld. I have written so much about the desert otherworld, and I will write more, because holy shit. Holy shit. I'm not going to tell you what it is because it made me almost scream for real in the very early hours of the morning when I heard it, but the information that is revealed in the very end of It Devours! is heartbreaking. Carlos cares about the people he loves more than anything, and it brings him right to the brink of destruction, because of how much he cares about Cecil and this new family he has found through Cecil. And throughout It Devours! you get such a clear idea of just how much Carlos loves Cecil, how much knowing Cecil has changed Carlos right back.

And, like, the autistic coding. It is blatant. It is obvious. It is much harder to overlook it than to notice it. It is intentional. We're getting to the part here where I might be calling myself out a little bit but like. The way that it weaves into how he expresses his love for Cecil and for Night Vale. It's the way that it is channeled through his science, and how his science helps him make sense of the world. I love him, and I love how he is written in such a way that his science has become the lens through which he navigates the world and this step-by-step justification of his existence. The way that this plays into the ongoing belongingness element of his arc throughout the podcast.

He starts as an outsider, and he stays an outsider, and just as he's starting to think he might not be an outsider, well. The desert otherworld happens. And I've definitely worked through a lot of these thoughts already but that's what it comes down to! I cannot help but read his belongingness arc as innately tied into how he is written as autistic because that's just what it's like to grow up autistic! You don't belong anywhere, or at least that's what you're told. If you're a lucky one, that message isn't stated explicitly, but it's there. Of course he's cautious with his assertion he belongs in Night Vale! It would be a wonder if he wasn't!

So he does not know how important he is until he is forced to see it and then as soon as he is forced to see it it becomes his whole world. And every time I think about how there is only one Carlos across every single Night Vale in existence (or tentative non-existence), I have to think about how he believed he should not return to Night Vale because the door had shut for him, and how this led to spending a full ten years in a lonely and empty desert otherworld while Cecil fell apart back in Night Vale. I think about Cecil's sobbed I am still holding the trophy in One Year Later, and I think about Carlos grounds me in Delta and I think about how, in The Promise of Time, his joy at the end was for himself and Carlos, and I think about his panicked I have to call Carlos as soon as the warrant goes out in The Heist Pt. 3. And because of that... Night Vale attaches its reality to Carlos, too.

Night Vale cannot exist as it is now without both of them. There is only one version of Carlos across every single version of Night Vale. Carlos makes Night Vale what it becomes, because he witnesses. He witnesses and he records it all and he investigates and he understands. Besides Cecil, I do not think there is a single person in town other than Carlos who truly understands Night Vale. He understands it through scientific observation and archival and experimentation. Carlos pokes the boundaries to see how they'll react to him but he never crosses them, never breaks them. He does not feel the need to explain why Night Vale is the way it is now, because it simply is. He is observing the laws of this town (both legal and physical) and he respects them and nods as he passes.

Which brings us back to the University of What It Is. I said we'd come back to this, didn't I? I don't know how much I can say that doesn't lead to speculative conclusions here, because the UOWII arc isn't finished at the time of writing, but there are some things that have been laid out clearly. Janet Lubelle does not stop for anything or anyone. Janet Lubelle is what the UOWII considers to be the height of a successful scientist. Carlos used to also be considered a successful scientist, and then he came to Night Vale, and he lost whatever quality it was that the UOWII considered a qualifier of success.

Janet Lubelle does not respect the rules of Night Vale. It's very, very easy to see Dr. Lubelle as a foil for Carlos, especially since they came from the same institution. Only, Dr. Lubelle tramples over those boundaries, those unspoken (and, arguably, spoken) rules that make Night Vale what it is. She is here for an explanation for everything and she will not stop until all the mystery, all the wonder, is gone. And she calls it science.

And if you go back far enough, Carlos talked like this too! He was looking for an explanation to Night Vale's temporal weirdness, an explanation for its weird seismic activity, an explanation for the house that does not exist. But he adapted, and he learned, and he observed, and he took his time and did not simply enforce his way of things onto the world without its permission.

Carlos feels like a love letter to science and the scientific way of observing the world and falling further in love with it through that scientific inquiry. I'm going to get a little, uh, sappy and personal here, so fair warning, but I likely have that reading because that's been how I've lived my whole life. I was talking to someone even just today about how, when I was little, my dad would take us out onto the back patio and we would set things on fire and see what we could burn to make the fire different colors.

I've grown up with parents who deeply, truly love science. My mom has a physics degree. My dad has a math one. He still texts my family group chat every day to inform us it is pi time at 3:14. Every day. So maybe it's that, and maybe it's growing up with an understanding of the world that is rooted in scientific inquiry and questions and exploration, but Carlos feels like a love letter to science to me.

Carlos comes in and he turns the entire world on its head as he does it and he finds, at the end of the day, that he loves Night Vale. He loves Night Vale because it's so weird. It's the most scientifically fascinating place in the U.S. and this becomes his way of saying I love you. I want to understand you. Science, through Carlos, is its own sort of faith in the world and the way it is all put together, how everything connects. And Night Vale loves him back for it. He'll poke and prod at the edges but he will never cross them if he knows crossing will do harm, even if he does not fully understand why, because following an ever-growing series of whys is what science is about. Not having one single explanation at the end of the day.

Carlos's exploration of Night Vale changes it, because it must change, everything must change eventually in order to continue to exist, and Carlos does what he can to help it not fall apart completely as it does. Carlos becomes more Night Vale as time progresses, and Night Vale lets more of Carlos in, until he is so enshrined in it that it is just his life. Night Vale lets him rest, and here, in this weird, weird town that is so incredibly hard to find, he finally finds a place he belongs. I don't know what isn't to love about that.

#wtnv #ask #friend stuff #THIS GOT LONG #THIS GOT WAY LONGER THAN I MEANT IT TO #i do not know how much sense it makes but im so full of incredibly strong emotions about him #he's my blorbo but also he's so much more #i dont have a word for the kind of character he is to me #i joke about oh nooo the kin allegations from my besties but like #if theres any character i really see myself in in this podcast it's carlos #100%

16 notes · View notes