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#it's the hopeful ending that's the real comfort
fyorina · 2 days
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ᡣ𐭩 HE'S THE SERPENTINE, HE'S MY COLLAR!
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: you're finally back in yokohama after spending four years abroad dealing with mori's foreign business. the last person you want is to see dazai osamu, the wounds of his abrupt betrayal still too fresh for comfort. unfortunately, he decides to take matters into his own hands by showing up at your office in the middle of the night.
(wordcount: 7.1k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, f!receiving oral, gunplay, knife play (ish), spitting, pussy drunk!dazai (as always), light choking, overstim, office sex, semi-public/public sex, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing!)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. GUYS. i had so much fun writing this, this is finally usurping in paper rings and picture frames as my fav fic that i've written. HAHAHH. i hope you guys like it too!!
You hear the door to your office swing open, and you press your lips together tightly, irritation swimming through your head as your grip tightens on the pen you’re using to fill out your paperwork. It’s already late—you’re tired and your head hurts, but you can’t leave the building until Akutagawa comes to hand you the report for his failed mission so you can pass it up to the boss. And you know that whichever subordinate this is, it’s definitely not Akutagawa because the boy would rather claw his own throat out than walk into your office without knocking. 
Which means it’s some upstart new recruit who has no manners and is likely going to make your night worse. You think being away for so long did some real damage to your reputation—four years ago, the lower ranked mafiosos avoided your floor like the plague, they didn’t barge in like they owned the place, but then again, four years ago, you also had a certain dark-haired executive (ex-executive now, you remind yourself bitterly) lurking around your floor constantly trying to get your attention, and if people weren’t nervous enough about you, they were definitely terrified of him.
“Five seconds to explain why you came into my office without knocking or I’m putting a bullet through your fucking skull,” you say, voice acerbic, not even bothering to look up, the fingers of your free hand closing around the gun you have holstered at your side. 
“There’s a few too many cameras in the hall for my liking to stand out there and wait for you to open the door.”
The fact that he manages to dodge the bullet shot in his direction is testament to his skill, but you’ve known Dazai Osamu long enough to know that when he dodges to the side, nine times out of ten, he dodges left, so you drop your pen as soon as you pull the trigger and swipe the knife laying haphazardly on your desk, launching it in his direction. You watch as his eyes widen just a bit when it impales the wall right next to his ear, just barely nicking his skin—both a warning and a threat.
“My, my, bella, you’ve gotten faster the past few years,” Dazai grins, unperturbed, smile as reckless and lazy as the day he left four years ago as he plucks the knife from the wall. “I’ve missed you too.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Dazai?” you ask, voice cold and sharp as your finger rests against the trigger of your gun. “How did you get up here?”
“Security’s gotten lax since I’ve been gone, I guess,” Dazai shrugs, but his eyes dance with mirth as he makes his way over to your desk. “You should probably do something about that.”
“Dazai,” you say, keeping your voice low and trying to reign in your temper. There are no cameras in your office, but the hall leading here is littered with them, hidden ones that were recently installed that he wouldn’t know about, if any one of them caught his face and it’s reported to Mori… “You think I won’t drag your ass to Mori myself? What the fuck are you doing?”
You’d have to, or it would be your head on the line for betraying the Port Mafia—you know better than anyone the treatment that traitors get, considering you were the one that dealt with them up until you were sent abroad four years ago to handle Mori’s foreign politics. 
“I don’t know, will you?” Dazai counters, head tilted to the side as he takes a seat on top of your desk next to you, a smile on his face that makes you think he knows something that you don’t. It makes you a bit sick to your stomach—you’ve only been back in Yokohama for a few days and you feel as if you have yet to even adjust to Dazai’s defection from the Port Mafia because you were away for so long. Him showing up like this opens up wounds that are too fresh for comfort—it reminds you of the days that feel like yesterday when he would show up at your office to distract you from your work, pouting and throwing himself on your couch when you blow him off to finish up your reports. 
“Maybe,” you answer, finger twitching on the trigger as you keep your gun pointed in his direction. 
Dazai is completely unbothered, leaning down until his nose is nearly brushing yours, lips tugged up in an unbearable smirk. 
“Then do it,” he challenges, and you glare at him, jaw tight and eyes hard. He reaches out, fingertips brushing your skin, and you feel like you’re on fire beneath his touch. You hate that your body still betrays you to him. “Don’t look at me like that, bella. I won’t even resist, I promise, as long as you promise to be the one to put a bullet through my skull, so your face can be the last thing I see. Ah, that would be a lovely death, wouldn’t it?” 
“You’re a fucking freak, Dazai,” you spit out, but make no move to get up or grab your phone. “What is wrong with you?”
Dazai doesn’t respond, only winking at you. Instead, his gaze shifts to the side and his hand drops from your face to his lap again. You hate even more that you miss his touch immediately. 
“You still have my couch,” Dazai notes to himself quietly, an odd tone to his voice as he stares at the dark couch in the far corner of your office, where he’d bundle himself up under blankets to avoid Chuuya, because Chuuya used to avoid your office like the plague when the three of you were younger.
“It’s my couch,” you say tightly, even though you know no one has touched it since Dazai left, and the ugly orange blanket he liked so much is still draped over the back of it, and it probably still smells like him. Your throat feels swollen, and you steel away your emotions and continue with, “I haven’t been back here since you left, anyway. What do you want, Dazai?”
“I heard you were finally back in Yokohama,” he says. “I wanted to see you.”
“Fuck off,” you say roughly. “So you decide to break into the main base of the Port Mafia and come all the way up to my office? You know where my apartment is, you could’ve shown up there. What do you really want?” 
“It’s the truth,” Dazai says easily, and his dark eyes meet yours—both of them, you note, and wonder when he decided to shed the bandages that covered his right eye. “I was at your apartment for a bit, I got impatient and came here instead.”
He’s telling the truth.
Oh, you realize—the clogged feeling in your throat is coming back, you force it away again and lean back in your chair, looking away from him to turn your gaze to the window. It’s well past midnight already, the moon is high in the sky and the stars are glittering above. In the distance, you can see the Ferris wheel of Cosmo World glowing a bright purple color and a string of flashing red and blue lights as the police chase after someone.
“Why?” you ask finally, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the two of you. 
“I told you,” Dazai says quietly, and your eyes turn back to him. He looks… happier, you can’t help but note. A sick part of you feels jealous—you’re not sure if you’re jealous because he’s free and you’re still stuck in this place, or if you’re jealous because he’s happier and he’s happier in a life without you. You think it might be the latter. “I miss you.”
“Don’t give me bullshit, Dazai,” you snap, still trying to push away all of the feelings you’ve repressed for so long. “Get out of here before you find yourself killed. I’m not going to turn you in, but I’m not saving you if you get caught.”
“It’s not bullshit,” Dazai tells you, voice sharp in a way that it only ever is when he’s starting to get annoyed. “I-”
A knock at your door cuts Dazai off mid-sentence. Both of you freeze, Dazai looks at you as if waiting to see what you’re going to do, and you can so easily finish this now, let whoever is at your door in and drag Dazai back down to the torture room where he belongs, but instead you find yourself reaching for him. Your hand intertwines with his hair roughly, and you revel a bit in the hiss that escapes his lips as you yank him off the desk and roll your chair backward, kicking the back of his knee so that he crumples to the ground and you can push him beneath your desk. 
You lower your gun to your lap so you can keep it pointed at him and then glance down at him—he looks caught off-guard and disgruntled at being manhandled, but you think it's a bit funny how cramped he looks under there. 
“Not a single word,” you warn before fixing your chair and raising your voice. “Come in.”
Akutagawa wastes no time stepping into your office, nodding his head in respect as he makes his way over to the chair on the opposite side of your desk, a bundle of papers in hand. He doesn’t hand you the pile right away and he looks uncharacteristically nervous, and you raise your eyebrows, wondering what the issue is. 
“I am… unsure how to fill out some of the report,” Akutagawa says, unable to meet your eyes as he stares at the windows behind you. “The operation was… not a failure but not a success. The whole mission was in disarray, I do not know who was doing what at certain points.”
You stare at Akutagawa. “What do you want me to say to that?” you ask him, leaning back in your chair. “It’s your job to know that as the field officer for the mission. If you can’t handle that, Hirotsu will take back the position on the next major operation.”
Akutagawa bristles. “I can handle it,” he says, voice clipped. “This mission was just more chaotic than-”
“Than usual?” you ask idly, watching as he stiffens as your interruption. “This was child’s play, it’s unlike you to make excuses, Akutagawa.’
“I’m not making excuses,” he says immediately, “but…”
Akutagawa continues talking, but your attention is ripped away when you feel Dazai shift beneath the desk. You press your lips together tightly, stiffening as his hands rise to your thighs, spreading them a bit so he can settle between them. You glance down, he’s already peeking up at you, dark eyes glittering in a way that has you on edge. 
Don’t you dare, you warn silently, but Dazai only takes it as further encouragement, pressing his lips to your clothed inner thigh, you can feel the warmth and wetness through your slacks. It takes all of your self-control to not inhale sharply when he starts trailing open-mouthed kisses up your thigh until his mouth is hovering right above your cunt. 
You press the muzzle of your gun against his temple. 
He smiles. 
Your jaw clenches as he licks a long stripe between your legs through your slacks, making sure to press his tongue down hard over where your clit is hidden through your clothes. Akutagawa is still talking, oblivious to what’s happening beneath your desk as he airs his complaints about the mission. You could stop Dazai, place your foot on his shoulder and push him off of you, but you don’t, notably—you don’t want to acknowledge that though. You only vaguely hear Akutagawa’s issues, something about interference from a third party—the SDUP? What the hell were they doing there?— and Kajii blowing up an escape route. 
“Give me the report,” you say, cutting him off mid-sentence, and holding out your hand. You’re grateful that your voice comes out steadier than you feel with Dazai trying to tongue fuck your through your pants. 
As you lean forward to rip the papers from Akutagawa, you tense, feeling something sharp press against your inner thigh. Sitting back in your seat and glancing down, your eyes cut down to Dazai, who still has the knife you’d thrown at him and is using it to cut open your very expensive slacks.
You have half a mind to drive your foot into his face, but you refrain. If only barely.
It’s a miracle that you can keep your breath steady, because as Dazai cuts your pants, he kisses every inch of open skin that’s revealed to him. His lips are warm, wet, familiar—so familiar that your legs are instinctively spreading for him, giving him more room to work.
Your eyes scan the report but the words are just jumbled letters and not making any sense. Every time you try to understand, you feel Dazai’s teeth graze your thigh as he marks up your skin. You tense when you feel him bring the knife much closer to your cunt, to finish cutting off the material—you press the muzzle of your gun harder into the side of his head, warning him to be careful. You glance down only to see a hazy smile on his lips as he winks up at you, as if he’s drunk just off of the idea of what’s about to happen.
He works efficiently as always, freeing your lower body of your slacks and panties as quickly as possible, and he wastes no time burying his face between your legs. Your lashes flutter and the grip you have on your pen tightens dangerously, you think it might snap. Dazai’s tongue slides between your folds, lapping up the slick that had begun to pool—you know that if Akutagawa wasn’t sitting a few feet away, Dazai would be making a snide comment about how he knew you wanted him.
Dazai’s tongue flicks over your clit—you can feel him staring up at you, watching for every little reaction, the way your lip tightens as you bite back moans, the way your eyelids unconsciously start to slide shut, the way your breath is just a bit heavier than it usually is. 
This is so dangerous, you think to yourself desperately. If Akutagawa of all people figures out that Dazai is here-
You nearly choke when Dazai shifts a bit underneath the desk to kneel at a better angle, grateful that Akutagawa seems to be too busy wallowing in his own mistakes to notice your struggle. Your gaze  snaps down again, his eyes have fluttered shut as he buries his face deep into your cunt, nose pressed to your clit as he pushes his tongue into your hole and you can feel the way he lets out a silent, but shaky breath, barely holding back a moan.
You notice his free hand slide from where it was propped on your thigh down to his beige pants, fingers fumbling with the button as he desperately tries to slip his hand beneath his waistband to touch himself. You kick his wrist hard, using your foot to pin it against the side of your desk, watching him wince and withdraw his hand, looking up at you with those big brown eyes you can never say no to. 
God, he’s pathetic, his lashes are wet and his cheeks are flushed, eyes glossed over with pleasure as he looks up at you and you know you’ll let go of his wrist if he looks at you like that any longer, so you turn your gaze back up to Akutagawa, who’s staring at his lap and waiting for you to finish the report.
“Get out,” you tell him, voice sharper than you intended. Akutagawa’s eyes snap up to you, brows furrowed in confusion. “Go, I’ll handle this.”
“But-”
“Your job is to take orders, not question them,” you bite out, watching frustration flash across the boy’s face as he rises to his feet. You’re not usually this harsh with the kid, but you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to last and Akutagawa cannot be in here when you cum. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach and that familiar hazy feeling clouding your mind. “Out, Akutagawa.”
Akutagawa inhales sharply but nods, turning stiffly on his heel to leave your office. As soon as the door to your office clicks shut, Dazai is pushing the chair backwards until the back of it hits the windows behind you, shifting into a more comfortable position as he resumes fucking you with his tongue in earnest. 
He moans into you, wanton and shameless, any restraint he had because of Akutagawa’s presence is long gone. While he was careful to not make noise before, now the sloppy sound of his tongue dragging in and out of your cunt drowns out any other noise in your office, he sucks and slurps, he’s so disgusting, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you, a man who’s been starved for years.
The knife clatters to the ground as he reaches up with both hands to grab your thighs, sliding them over his shoulders so he can push his tongue even deeper inside of you. Only sheer pride drives you to push away the creeping fog as Dazai’s tongue slides back up between your folds to draw figure eights around your clit.
“I should pull the fucking trigger, pulling this shit when he was in here,” you spit out, head falling back as a breathy noise escapes your parted lips when Dazai sucks gently at your clit. He moans again, as if the idea itself turns him on—it probably does, he’s always talked about wanting to die between your thighs. “You’re a fucking freak, Dazai.” 
He lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it's a laugh or another moan, maybe a mixture of both, but he’s too focused on drowning in your cunt to respond. Four years without him and you’ve forgotten just how good Dazai is with his tongue, working your body as easily as he did when the two of you were eighteen and seeking each other out before meetings and between missions for a quick fuck. You hate it—you hate that he’s treating you as if nothing has changed and you hate even more that your body is this responsive to him. 
Betrayal, you think, your own body betrays you for him. Again.
“Fuck,” you gasp the word out when Dazai rolls your clit between his teeth gently, sending a jolt through your body that throws you off just enough for that fog you’ve been fighting off to finally win. You choke over a moan, head pressed back against your desk chair, forearm coming up to press against your forehead as your eyes slide shut. Your free hand finally finds its place in his hair, tightening around his dark locks, he lets out a whimper against you, tongue flicking over your clit. “Like that. Just like that.”
You can hardly keep your head on straight as he traces letters around the sensitive bud, you try to figure out what he’s spelling but you’re too far gone. Your head is light and your chest is heaving. You’re barely able to bite back moans as your thighs tighten around his head, hips rocking against his face. You don’t even know if he can breathe, you don’t think you care, so close to the edge that your entire body is tingling and trembling; you don’t think he cares either from the way he’s moaning into you.
It takes one last suck, one last swirl around your clit, and you’re crying out his name, spots dotting your vision as your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face impossibly deeper into you as you grind your hips against his face. God, it feels never-ending, a noise too close to a sob nearly escapes your lips as Dazai ardently laps up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste. You can’t remember the last time you’ve cum this hard—with him, probably, you realize bitterly. None of the one-night stands you’ve had over the past few years have ever compared to him.
You’re still reeling even as you force yourself to straighten in your seat, not willing to let him know just how badly you’re thrown off by how intense your orgasm was. Your head is still spinning, vision still blurring, but you lift your leg and press your foot to Dazai’s shoulder, kicking him back and forcing him out from his position between your thighs. 
He grunts, looking thoroughly disgruntled as he falls back on his ass, pouting up at you as he tries to catch his breath. He looks debauched, lips swollen and wet, your cum smeared on the lower half of his face. His cock is straining against his beige pants and his eyes are still glazed over; he’s looking up at you with an expression that’s nothing short of reverent. 
God, he’s gorgeous. 
You hate him. 
You’ve missed him. 
You shift in your seat and Dazai is lifting himself to his knees, immediately leaning closer, a hazy smile on his lips as he angles his face up and pointedly parts his lips, sticking his tongue out. You know what he wants and the heat that had been slowly dissipating returns with a vengeance, breath catching as you look down at him.
“You’re gross,” you tell him, watching the corner of his lips quirk up even as he keeps his tongue out and waiting.
You don’t deny him. You never can. 
You shift forward, rising to your feet and reaching out to grab his chin, angling your face down. Your grip is too tight, it’ll leave bruises behind and you think that’s the least he deserves so you only tighten it a bit more as you lean over him. You don’t give him what he wants, not right away, letting the saliva gather on your tongue as you observe him, the way his pupils are blown wide and his chest is hardly rising and falling, as if he can’t even let himself breathe in anticipation.
Disgusting, you think again, but it’s fond this time, much to your displeasure.
You decide to put him out of his misery, letting the spit dribble from your mouth down to his. His eyes roll back as soon as it hits his tongue, and your hand slides from his chin to curl around his neck—not tight, just firm enough to feel the way his throat bobs as he swallows.
He lets out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering back open as he looks up at you, entirely blissed out. Your hand slides down more, curling around the ugly bolo tie he’s wearing in place of the black one you’re used to. You tug it hard, beckoning him to his feet; he acquiesces, albeit on shaky legs. 
Immediately, his hands find your hips as he pushes you against your desk, spinning you around to face it before his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend you over it. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in demeanor, something you’ll never be able to get used to no matter how many times you fuck him; it always caught you off guard back then, it still catches you off guard now. He pulls off the remnants of your destroyed slacks and immediately is grinding his bulge against your ass, a low moan spilling from his lips. 
“How many people have you been with?” he suddenly asks, and you can hear him fumbling to unbutton his own pants. There’s an edge to his voice that you don’t like—something caught between jealousy and possessiveness, and you nearly want to scoff at it.
“What the fuck, Dazai?” you spit out, appalled and not expecting the question. “None of your damn business.” 
You turn your head to the side to rest your cheek on the desk, looking back at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes are still a bit hazy but there’s a tight expression on his face, reminiscent of the one that would be directed toward you whenever he stumbled in on you entertaining anyone other than him years ago. 
“Humor me,” he says, voice cold and eerily familiar. If you weren’t looking at him and if you couldn’t see the tan coat and bolo tie, you’d think you were talking to Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia Executive, and not Dazai Osamu, Detective. 
“A lot,” you finally tell him, feeling the way he stiffens behind you. “I don’t keep count. You?” 
You think he has some nerve asking when he’s probably slept around t-
“None.”
“Bullshit,” you snarl immediately. “How many? Don’t fucking lie to me, Dazai.”
“None,” he says again, gaze lifting from your back to meet yours, his eyes are dark—too dark, too still. Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you assumed, because the way your chest swells with a confusing mixture of fear and arousal is far too familiar. “You’re the only one allowed to touch me.”
His gaze drags back down, with his pants unbuttoned, he lifts his free hand to caress the swell of your ass, a contemplative expression on his face as he stares down at you, his other hand still pinning you down to your desk. If your heart wasn’t thudding in your ears from sheer anticipation, you’d be irate over the fact that you were letting Dazai Osamu fuck you over your own desk in your own office, but you can’t bring yourself to care now.
“They never made you feel like this.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you want to scoff at his arrogance, but you can’t because he’s right. “They don’t know your body like I do.”
This time you do scoff. “You don’t know shit, Dazai. It’s been four years.”
Dazai’s eyes flicker back up to you, the way his lips curve up into a smile is dangerous.
“No?” he questions. 
A challenge. You never back down from one, not from him. 
“No.”
His smile sharpens.
“I know that after you cum for the first time,” he murmurs, rolling his hips forward. You bite back a moan when you feel the tip of his cock slip between your folds. “The second time comes right after.”
True to his words, your jaw falls slack and your entire body seizes as Dazai thrusts into you, splitting you right open on his cock. The moan he lets out is pornographic, and you wish you could see the way his head falls back and his eyes roll into his skull, but your own vision is white and you’re choking over a sob as you feel the familiar stretch of his cock against your walls.
“There you are.” Dazai has the nerve to let out a breathless laugh and another groan as he stills with his hips flush to your ass, feeling your walls spasm around him as you cum just from the feeling of him pushing inside of you. The hand he has placed between your shoulder blades slides up to curl around your throat. With a firm grip, he pulls you up so only your thighs are pressed against the edge of your desk, back flush to his chest as you gasp, reeling from the suddenness of your second orgasm. You can feel him smile as he nudges his nose against the side of your head, lips pressed to your ear. “The third time takes a bit after the second, but I’ll fuck you through it. Maybe a fourth too.”
“Dazai,” you gasp, eyes blown wide as your head falls back against his shoulder. You don’t know what you’re trying to say, maybe hold on, or wait, because you know you’ll embarrass yourself if he doesn’t give you a second to recover.
He hums in response, and the slow rolls of his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls, it has your head in the clouds, body trembling. Your lips part to speak but no words leave them, and right when you think you can finally force the words out, Dazai draws his hips back and snaps them back against yours hard. Your lips part in a silent moan, only the hand around your throat and the one pressed to your lower belly holds you up as Dazai fucks you at a brutal pace. 
His face drops to the crook of your neck, he moans into your skin, teeth scraping hard as he kisses recklessly up and down every available inch. He’s going to leave marks, you realize, and that’s dangerous now that you’re back in Yokohama because you don’t need any of the other executives to get suspicious, but even if you wanted to tell him not to, you don’t think you’d be able to. Whatever little coherency you had left in your thought process does not translate when you try to speak, the only things leaving your lips being shaky moans and gasps of Dazai’s name.
“Made for me,” Dazai groans. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make the air you breathe in shallow, your head feels light and you’re not sure if it’s because of his grip or if it’s the feeling of his cock bullying so deep into you that you can feel his tip pressing up against your cervix. “Waited so many years for this, feels even better than I remember, pussy’s made for me, isn’t it?”
Dazai babbles into your ear as he fucks you, tongue just as filthy and unbridled as the day he left. Shameless. He’s so shameless. Doesn’t even care that anyone could walk into your office and catch the two of you; doesn’t care that if anyone does, he’ll end up executed. He’s fucking you in a building full of people that want him dead and all he cares about is how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock.
Your breath hitches as Dazai shifts you to bend over just a little more, still keeping your back flush to his chest but fucking you at a new angle—one that nearly sends you spiraling over the edge for a third time. 
“Gonna give me your third now?” he pants. His hand on your lower stomach slips down, lithe fingers dipping between your folds to search for your clit—your back arches against him when he finds it, a sob spilling from your lips, vision swimming with tears. Dazai laughs again, this one is strained, catching over a moan as your walls convulse around him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so tight.” 
Unconsciously, his grip on your throat tightens, cutting off even more air. You can hardly breathe, you can hardly think—each thrust of his hips has your head spinning, ripping the little air you can inhale right out of your lungs. The tip of his cock rubs against that spongy spot inside of you every time he snaps his hips against yours, the quick circles he rubs on your clit are electrifying. 
Your cheeks are wet, breath ragged, vision spotty. One last thrust, one last circle, and you’re wrecked, sobbing out his name as your legs give out, only held up by the way he has your thighs pinned to your desk and his hand on your neck. You cum all over his cock so hard that you think you black out for a second, your mind fuzzy and pins and needles pricking all over your body.
Dazai doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your third orgasm, relishing in the way your body twitches and trembles, too sensitive for his touch. 
“Your fourth will come quick,” he gasps. His pace is erratic now, chasing his own release. Your ears are ringing, heartbeat thudding in your ears, the wet, sloppy sound of his cock driving in and out of you resounding through your office. “I don’t think I’ll last for five. Shit, shit, I’m close.”
You have to force yourself to move. You want to see him when he finishes. Your hand wraps around his wrist, nails digging into his skin to try to get his attention. It takes all of your will power to push the two words from your lips: “Flip me.”
He does. Without any sort of hesitation, his hand drops from your throat to your waist. His cock slips out of you for a split second and your cunt aches at the loss, but Dazai is immediately pushing himself back into you as he hoists you up by the thighs, sitting you down on your desk and wrapping your legs around his waist. 
Even through your blurry vision, Dazai is a fucking sight. His dark hair is matted to his forehead, pink lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed. His eyes glazed over and half rolled back as he chases his high. God, he’s stunning. You’ve missed him. You’ve missed him.
You’re not thinking as you lift your hand to cup his cheek, sliding around to the back of his head to pull his face down to yours, moving on pure instinct. You drag him down to press your lips against his and Dazai is gone. The moment your lips touch his, he’s moaning into your mouth, hips stuttering against you as he spills his cum deep inside of you, and he’s right, because the moment you feel his cum filling you up, warm and thick, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling around his cock, the stickiness smearing against your thighs and ruining your desk, you’re pushed over the edge for the fourth time.
This one is weaker than the rest, not a single noise escapes you but your jaw goes slack and Dazai whimpers into your mouth when he feels your walls tightening around him again. But he takes advantage of your pliancy, pushing you back gently so that your back is flush to your desk. He follows you down, keeping his chest pressed to yours as he maps out your mouth with his tongue. He rolls his hips against yours, slow and deep, fucking his cum deeper into you as the two of you slowly come down from your highs. He slants his lips against yours to deepen the kiss, hand coming up to cup your cheek, his other sliding up and down one of your thighs. 
It’s too intimate. You tell yourself that you only let it happen because you’re reeling from overstimulation but you know it's a lie.
You don’t even know how long you stay in that position with him. It could only be a few seconds, a few minutes, it could’ve been an hour for all you know, laying on your desk with him pressed on top of you, kissing you so passionately that it makes your head spin as much as the orgasms did. 
Finally, you press your hand against his shoulder, signaling for him to get off of you. He does, albeit with a reluctant sigh. You stare up at the ceiling as Dazai shakily rebuttons his pants, making his way over to the closet where you still keep your spare clothes from when you have to stay over at the office to work. 
What did you do?
You’re hyper aware of how swollen your lips are, of the marks littering your neck, of the cum dribbling out of your cunt, staining your desk. 
If anyone finds out about this-
You don’t get to finish the thought, because Dazai comes back over to you. Neither of you speak as he takes a tissue to clean up his cum from your thighs and as it dribbles out of you, nor do you speak when he shifts you into a sitting position, helping you pull on a new pair of panties and a new pair of slacks.
He stands in front of you, dozens of indecipherable emotions rocketing across his face as his dark eyes search your expression for something. You don’t know what, and you don’t even want to look at him but you can’t draw your gaze away from him.
After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.
“I missed you,” he says, voice hoarse as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek. 
You turn away from his touch, ignoring the hurt that flashes through his eyes. 
“Why don’t you believe me? You think four years has changed how I feel about you? I thought you knew me better than that.”
“It’s been four years,” you say, and you hate that your voice wavers a bit. You blame it on still being hazy after your orgasm but you know it’s a weak excuse. You hate that he still has this effect on you after all these years. You hate that you always give into him, and you hate that you know you’ll never get enough of him. You want to hate him, but you can’t. “Knowing how to fuck me isn’t the same as knowing me as a person. I barely know you anymore. You barely know me. And it’s not like you were open with how you felt four years ago. So, forgive me if it’s a bit hard to believe, Dazai.”
“You wear the same perfume. You still shoot with your non-dominant hand for some god forsaken reason. Your lips still twitch whenever you get annoyed even though you do your best to stop it. You-”
“Stop.”
“You still talk to me like you hate me even though your eyes are all soft and you’re leaning in toward me.” Dazai doesn’t stop, and to your horror, he’s right—you had begun to lean in to him instinctively as he spoke. You try to shift away from him, but he follows, fingers grazing your cheek, chest brushing yours. You don’t pull away this time. “I still wear the same cologne you bought me for my sixteenth birthday because it reminds me of you—I spent two months trying to figure out where you bought it when it first ran out. I don’t carry a gun around as often, but when I do, I still try to do that stupid flipping trick you tried to teach me when we were seventeen—I still can’t do it, almost shot myself in the knee last time I tried.”
The laugh he lets out at the last sentence is hollow. He hesitates, as if he wants to continue but isn’t sure if he should. You can feel his blunt nails scraping gently against your skin, his palm warm against your cheek. You want to pull away but you’ve missed him, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, and you find yourself sinking into his touch. You’ve always questioned why Mori sent you away for so long, angry because you figured he thought you were weak when it comes to Dazai and he didn’t want to risk anything. 
Only a few days back in Yokohama, and you’re already proving him right.
“I’m not the same person,” you tell him, something desperate edges at your tone. Desperate to convince him, or yourself, you’re not sure.
“I still love you,” he rasps, voice quiet as if he’s scared to admit it even to himself, and your heart is suddenly lodged in your throat as you stare up at him with wide eyes, the words he refused to tell you back when you were teens ringing through your head over and over again. “I’ve always loved you. Thought about you every day. I missed you so much.”
“I should hate you,” you say, swallowing thickly, unshed tears blurring your vision. “You didn’t even say goodbye. When Mori said you defected in the middle of a mission, I laughed in his face. Not because I didn’t think you’d never betray the Port Mafia, but because I didn’t think you’d ever leave me without saying anything.”
“If I said goodbye to you, I never would have left,” Dazai tells you quietly, the admission echoing in your years. “And I had to leave. I had to.”
“I should hate you,” you repeat, voice a bit weaker now, and you feel pathetic for falling apart like this in front of him. But it’s Dazai, he’s always had this effect over you. You suppose some things haven’t changed, because that certainly hasn’t. 
“I know,” he murmurs. 
You inhale deeply, shaking your head as you push yourself off your desk and straighten out your clothes, trying to get your head back on straight. You should’ve known better than to think you’d be able to come back to Yokohama and pretend that Dazai Osamu didn’t exist, for better or for worse, the two of you would always find your way back to each other. Mori was right to send you away, although you suppose the man is rarely wrong anyway.
Dazai doesn’t say anything, watching you with an unreadable expression as you search through the ruined piles of paper on your desk for the report that Akutagawa had handed you. Your eye twitches when you realize that it’s stained, realizing that you’re going to have to rewrite the whole thing because you can’t submit a cum-stained report to Mori.
Dazai snorts behind you, as if realizing your predicament. The look you give him is lethal, he silences himself quickly. 
“Don’t get yourself killed on the way out,” you tell him, grabbing your black jacket off your chair and swinging it over your shoulders as you look back at him. “If you make it out of here alive, I’ll see you at my apartment later. Then we can talk.”
His face twists. “What? Wait, don’t leave me here,” he panics, nearly tripping over his feet and your desk chair to follow after you. “Help me sneak out.”
“You got in here yourself,” you say dismissively. “Get out yourself.”
The noise he lets out is pathetic. “You do hate me,” he accuses. 
“No, I could never,” you admit quietly. His expression softens a bit, but you give him a sharp smile. “But I’m definitely not going to make things easy for you. Akutagawa is still out here prowling around. So is Chuuya, actually. Said he’d be at the office all night today. Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”
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seelestars · 1 day
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some bittersweet thoughts abt dating aventurine / sunday after playing 2.1…
firstly, I think I underestimated how hard it would be to get into a relationship with someone like aventurine,, he would need to trust you immensely in order to even attempt dating you
but once you do date him, he’s still very hesitant on being affectionate towards you
he had lost everything, everyone that was dear to him, so the idea of having someone he could lose again scares him
he’s careful not to grow too attached to you, always keeping you at an arms distance despite how much you love and care for him
every morning, he makes sure he wakes up before you so he can leave your side early. it’s not that he doesn’t want to be around you during such vulnerable moments, no, but rather he fears he’ll get too attached to you
he makes sure to tuck you in and press a sweet kiss to your forehead as he smiles to himself sadly before heading out
if you ask him about his reasoning behind leaving so early, he’ll just make excuses and dismiss it as ipc work (there’s a whole angsty idea I have for this related to believing he’s cheating but idk if I should write it)
you try your best to be understanding, staying by his side and comforting him whenever he needs it
in return, he spoils you using his immense wealth
see a necklace you like? no worries, just tell him—tabs always on him after all. want to go out for dinner? of course, the most luxurious restaurant rented out just for the two of you.
it’s his way of making up for his distant nature towards you, he’ll even allow you to hear some stories about his past such as the day he got branded as a slave as he stares at you with a soft gaze and a subtly melancholic smile (he even permits you to call him by his real name, kakavasha!)
with sunday, I believe he’d be a tad bit paranoid when it comes to you
as a neat freak who desperately needs control over anything and everything, he feels like he needs to have some form of control over you as well
you’re very dear and precious to him after all, and he can’t just allow you to slip away from his hands like how robin did
his little bird servants are watching you day and night, making sure you don’t get into any trouble
and at the end of the day, he always asks you regarding what you did the entire day while using his ability to make others tell the truth—he has to make sure you didn’t do anything that would potentially get you into danger, no?
he feels guilty and regretful for resorting to such methods to ensure your complete safety, but he tells himself it’s better to be safe than sorry
if he can, he’ll try to have you by his side as much as possible so he can have you directly under his watch and protect you if necessary
he makes sure to handle you extra delicately and gently, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he helps you wash your hair
he even allows you privileges such as touching his sensitive wings as well as his halo, hoping it helps convey just how special you are to him
to him, you’re safer under his watchful eye and control as the two of you happily spend your days together
if anyone had even dared to imply that they would harm you, sunday would deal with it immediately and make sure you would never see them again
even with all the dirty work he does, you’ll understand, won’t you? everything he does is for you, after all.
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Note
Hey, can i have Lucifer x gn! reader that suffers from migraines? It can just be headcanons, really.
I dont have any specifics for it.
Nonniieeeeee, I’m so sorry! I’m not sure when you sent this but I’m finally getting to it. Thanks for being so patient, to you and everyone who’s requested recently. Also, I hope you’re feeling okay, anon. ❤️‍🩹 And as always, enjoy~
Notes: gn!reader, just fluff and Luci being such a sweetheart ALSO I GOT TWO LUCI POSTS DONE IN ONE DAY FUCK YEAH!!!
Lucifer x reader- S/O suffers from migraines
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“OH DARLING! MY ANGEL BABY! Come, lay down. I’ll get you an ice pack. Or would you prefer a heating pad? Tell me what you need, my love. Daddy’s here for you~”
Good luck. This guy is gonna cling to you and baby you all day until you feel better okay? Just prepare yourself
Will literally, actually, for real do anything you ask. He just feels so bad for you and hates seeing you like this so go ahead, tell him what you need.
Meds? You got it! He’s flying over to get them so fast and returning to your side before you can even blink
You cold? Need a blanket? Come here, let Luci wrap you up in his plethora of thick plush wings 💋
Wanna take a nap? He’s draping blankets over you, fluffing the pillow before tucking it under your throbbing head, makes sure the room is dark and quiet.
Will definitely hum softly to you as you cuddle and rest together.
Lots of soft kisses to your head and face- comes in waves like…he’ll kiss the top of your head once and then a few minutes later, he’s peppering your face in repetitively sweet kisses.
Will also full-on make out with you if that’ll distract you from the pain *wink wink*
Also, a lot of gentle touches, lightly tickling your skin, letting his fingertips wander over any bits of exposed skin he sees.
Might even strip off some of your clothes but strictly for the purpose of exposing more of your skin for him to softly stroke or rub comforting circles on.
Plays with your hair- starts by gently running his fingers through it and eventually ends up giving you a scalp massage that has you falling asleep in his hands.
When/if you get tired of him being clingy or you just want some alone time, please tell him! He’d rather you bruise his ego a bit by telling him you need space than you be even more miserable with him around. If you need a break from him, just say so and he’ll leave you be but he’s gonna come check on you every 15 minutes and ask you like 50 times if you’re mad at him lol
Will happily run off to the kitchen to make you soup or tea, something warm and comforting
One time he accidentally walked in on you taking a nap and when you woke up, at first he was like “Hi, honey. You okay?” And when you explain in a groggy voice that you have a killer migraine and you’re trying to sleep it off, he lowkey gets mad at himself for disturbing you and begs for your forgiveness. No matter your reply, he still asks “Want some company?” Before crawling into bed with you.
Also, one time found you crying on the couch due to the immense pain in your head, the throbbing and aching becoming too much.
Luci dramatically swooped you up in his arms and took you to lay down in bed. Cooed in your ear while wiping your tears away and holding you close to him.
He shed a tear along with you bc oh no his poor baby is in so much pain, it physically hurts his heart
Basically, just the sweetest little sweet pea in the entire Hellaverse, okay? No one in hell could take care of you better than the big boss himself ❤️‍🔥
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itsswritten · 7 hours
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when the sea calls for three | 3
Pairings: Azriel x Reader x Eris
Words: 5.3K
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<<Previous Part | Masterlist | Summary
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Autumn Court
“She’s late!” Eris's voice thundered through the hallway, his steps echoing on the stone floors of Forest House. You remained composed, waiting patiently as you heard his approach. Knowing full well the fiery storm that would follow.
The doors burst open with a forceful push, and Eris entered into the room like a whirlwind, his expression a mixture of frustration and impatience. He opened his mouth to unleash a barrage of complaints, only to falter as he caught sight of you seated calmly with his mother, sharing tea.
There was that fire. A flicker of it anyway.
You were no stranger to the fiery nature of the Vanserra’s. Lucien had his own, but it was interesting how differently it manifested in them. 
Lucien’s heat was like a welcoming hearth, radiating warmth and comfort like a cosy fireplace. But beneath, lurked potential. His fire, always crackling, could easily spread if provoked.
Beron had always been like a volcanic eruption, spitting burning molten fury upon anyone who crossed his path with no warning or restraint.
Restraint was something you felt Eris had a multitude of.
He was different. His fire felt different. Always simmering, on the verge of boiling over but never quite reaching it. It was as if he had learned to temper his flames, dampening them in the presence of his father. Now, with Beron gone, perhaps that simmering intensity would finally have the chance to ignite into something new.
You guessed only time would tell.
Sensing the tension, Lady Autumn, Hestia, intervened with a gentle smile. "I must apologise, my son," she began, her tone soothing. "I simply couldn't resist stealing y/n away for a quick catch-up. Don't hold her responsible when it is I that is at fault"
You couldn't help but smirk, finding amusement in the sight of Eris momentarily caught off guard. His previous expression of frustration changed into something that bore indifference. 
As you and Lady Hestia rose to greet him, she enveloped you in a warm embrace, "We're all thrilled to have you here. Oh, how I wish your mother could see you now. She would be bursting with pride." Genuine love left those words. The mention of your late mother stirred a bittersweet ache in your heart, and you noticed how even Eris’ expression softened.
"I'll leave you both to it," Lady Hestia beamed once more, her gaze shifting between you and Eris with pride. “I believe the pair of you will do wonderful things for this court. Together.” She held one of your hands in hers, while her other rested gently on her son's cheek. Leaning in, her voice softened to a whisper. "I'm proud of you too, you know."
Eris's expression softened further at his mother's words, a mix of emotions flickering across his features. He had brought an end to it all—his father's reign, the tyranny that had gripped them all. For his mother, for his brothers, for his people. He had taken the ultimate risk, and succeeded. You knew if it was Beron that still stood here to today, he would have had no part in this new peace treaty. 
If not for Eris's courage, well, you wouldn’t be standing here in Autumn today either, ready to forge a new path forward.
Despite the poor reputation that often preceded him, you had always suspected there was more to Eris than met the eye. Beneath that hard molten exterior, you were sure a kindness lingered. 
A small flicker of a flame.
A rare spark you had glimpsed in your younger years– a quality that you knew came from Hestia. It was a golden thread of hope you clung to, that perhaps beneath all those hard layers, the real Eris would now reveal himself. 
That maybe he was more like Lucien than either of them would ever admit.
However, he made it all too easy to believe the opinions of others when he looked at you like that. His unreadable expression, stoic and yet fiery with eyes that harboured resentment.
Who were you kidding? This was Eris Vanserra.
Eris reluctantly led you down the winding corridors of Forest House. You’d forgotten how large this place was, how deep the levels went. Memories of your childhood flickered through your mind as you recalled times where you and Lucien had ran down these very halls. Eris hadn’t taken you to the lower levels, instead he showed you the way to the western wing on one of the higher floors. 
Eris halted before a grand oak door. With a subtle gesture, he swung it open to reveal the spacious chamber beyond. "This room is yours." Eris announced, his tone begrudging.
He could have just got a member of his staff to do this. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but you realised he was trying. That perhaps years of pretending to be this evil heir to appease his father may actually take time to erase.
So you would give him a chance. As you were giving all the courts, it was only fair.
Stepping inside, you were greeted by the warmth of a crackling fire and the inviting embrace of luxurious furnishings. The bed, adorned with sheets in hues of burnt orange and chocolate. A sight that made you want to curl up on the sheets there and then, Autumn had always been cosy. A large ornate wooden desk occupied one corner, while a private washroom beckoned from the side.
You surveyed the space with a sense of amusement, a soft chuckle escaping your lips at the indulgent opulence. The quietness of the quarters enveloped you, the secluded area obvious.
Was he hiding you in this part of the house? You’d noticed how it was far from the heart of the home.
"Do I have this entire wing to myself?" you quipped playfully, your eyes dancing with amusement as you turned to face Eris.
Eris's response was matter-of-fact. "My quarters reside in this part of the house” he states plainly, his expression revealing a hint of reluctance.
Surprised by his choice, you press further. "You haven't taken up the High Lord's quarters?"
A moment of emotion passes over Eris's features as he shakes his head. "I don't want to displace my mother from the room she's spent centuries in. Plus, I have no desire to inhabit my father's spaces. This part of the house has always been mine."
You nod in understanding, appreciating his unwavering respect and love he’s always had for his mother. A quality all of his brothers had.
Although you assumed there was more to it than just a son’s respect for his mother. Were there areas of the house he didn’t want to go? Parts where his father’s presence still lingered. 
“It’s eerily quiet…” you raised a brow, stepping to look outside the large window onto the beautiful autumn scenery.
“It is.” Eris's voice held a hint of amusement as he joined you by the window, his gaze following yours to the tranquil landscape outside. “It's so I can hear you if you get up to any trouble. My chamber is only down the hall.”
Ah, how quickly the taunts came. How natural this felt despite it being centuries.
Familiar, teasing and warm. His words had always felt like that when he spoke to you.
“Always so paranoid Eris…but good to know you’re only down the hall should I need you” you replied with a hum, only to watch that glint in Eris’ eyes turn playful.
“And why would you need me, little mouse?” His tone was teasing, and the old nickname sent a wave of nostalgia washing over you.
Little mouse.
That pet name. One you had almost forgotten about. The name instantly transporting you back to a time when you did indeed feel like a little mouse beneath Eris’ fox-like smile. 
Did he remember too? That time you almost gave yourself to him… 
You were at a ball, where you had slipped away, seeking solace from the overwhelming social obligations and the awkward third-wheeling as your friends found their own romantic pursuits for the evening. In the dimly lit corridors of the grand ballroom, you sought refuge away from the echoing sounds of laughter and music. You leaned against the cool marble walls, tugging at the tight corset around your waist.
It was then that Eris's voice, smooth and dark, pierced the silence around you. "What is Lucien's little girlfriend doing out here all alone?" His presence had seemed to materialise out of nowhere, his figure looming closer as he prowled towards you with a predatory grace.
You had rolled your eyes at his predictable taunts, a hint of exasperation tingeing your tone. "Really, Eris, that joke is getting old."
You watched as he came to stand in front of you, his presence already warming you. And you weren’t sure if that was because of the fire in his veins or the effect he had on you. It was perhaps not one of your proudest moments, but yes you may have had a small crush on your best friend’s older brother. His cold exterior usually scared most away, but there was a warmth in his eyes that you hadn’t been able to ignore.
You couldn't deny that you often found your eyes searching for Eris during your visits to Lucien. It was a fleeting fascination.
"Then if you are not my brother’s... does that mean this little mouse is available for the taking?" His words dripped with dark humour, tone laced with a hint of something more. You felt your cheeks flush with heat, betraying any composure you had.
As he leaned in close, the proximity between you electrifying, you found yourself at a loss for words. You were never at a loss for words, but somehow in the presence of Eris you were. He looked like a fox ready to feast on you, and there was a part of you that was willing to let him. Maybe it was low inhibitions from faerie wine, or simply the desire to have someone’s attention that night, but you would have let Eris devour you.
But then as his stare took in your expression, his gaze softened for a moment. It was only fleeting, but whatever had crossed his mind was enough for him to abruptly pull away and head back into the ballroom.
The rejection tasted bitter in your mouth, and so you pushed that feeling deep, deep, deep inside of yourself.
Eris seemed to wet his lip with his tongue as if recognising where that name had taken you, and he was relishing in it. “I guess if the little mouse finds herself needing a comforting presence at night I’m not too far away. Maybe if you ask nicely I might even let you share my be-”
You smacked his arm hard, cutting off whatever inappropriate sentence he was going to finish with. This was your fault really, you’d opened the gates to this type of talk. But it was so familiar, you couldn’t help yourself. It was like you were 21 again with that stupid all consuming crush on your best friend's older brother.
Old habits died hard it seemed.
You weren’t 21 anymore though, and you wouldn’t crumble under his stare. He was watching you now, curious to know if he had gone too far but that soft smirk spread across your lips giving him the satisfaction he needed.
“Careful High Lord,” You mused “Careful.” and with that you turned “Come, we have work to do.”
You had given him your warning, and yet it very much felt like a challenge to his ears.
༄ 
You and Eris sat in his office, staring at the miniscule pile of submissions that had been sent in by his court. While Summer and Night's inhabitants had been perhaps overly forthcoming in expressing their thoughts, Autumn's court remained eerily silent.
You flicked through the handful of submissions, each one echoing the same sentiment: satisfaction with the status quo. 
They were reluctant to rock the boat. 
Eris let out a frustrated sigh, dragging his hands down his face in exasperation. "My father has instilled so much fear into the land that they're too scared to even present their problems," he muttered bitterly, his gaze fixed on the sparse pile of papers.
You took a moment to digest his words before speaking up. "But you are not your father, Eris."
He looked up at you, a glimmer of doubt in his eyes. "No, but to some, they consider me just as bad."
Why was it in the unspoken you truly heard him.
Am I just as bad?
Your heart clenched tightly at his doubts. "Then let's show them you're not," you suggested, your voice firm with determination.
Without waiting for a response, you stood up from your chair and walked out of the room, expecting him to follow. True to form, Eris hurried after you, his steps quickening to match your pace.
“Little mouse, I’m not fond of chasing.” Eris shouted, his voice echoing through the corridors of Forest House. You hastened your steps, keeping ahead of Eris’ footsteps.
As he caught up and grabbed your hand hard, pulling you to a stop, you couldn't help but notice the flicker of annoyance in his expression. "Looks like you chased me anyway," you quipped with a playful smile, glancing down at your intertwined fingers.
His hand was warm and firm, yet with a roughness that differed from the Shadowsigner’s touch.
Why were you comparing them?
You pulled your hand from his quickly, not giving yourself another moment to linger on how his skin felt against yours. “We need to change the narrative Eris, let’s meet your people directly.” 
Eris didn’t object, his gaze lingering on his hand for a moment before he scoffed, shaking his head. You could have sworn he wanted to smile. “You’ve always been so hard to say no to.”
“It’s because I’m always right” You sang, stepping out into the crisp autumn air, the leaves crunching beneath your feet as you made your way towards the nearest town. Eris following closely beside you.
The townspeople of Autumn seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind at the sight of their red-headed High Lord, their gazes darting away or pretending to be engrossed in their tasks. It was a reaction Eris had grown accustomed to, one that grated on his nerves more than he cared to admit. His stoic demeanour, a shield he'd always worn, now seemed to be the very barrier keeping his people at arm's length.
Approaching a farmer with a stall brimming with fresh autumn produce, you noticed the tension in the man's shoulders as he glanced nervously at Eris behind you. His wooden stand boasted an array of vibrant fruits and vegetables. "Could I buy a bag?" you asked with a warm smile, trying to ease the farmer's apprehension.
His response was tentative as he began to bag up some plump blackberries for you. "Has your harvest been good this week?" you inquired, attempting to strike up conversation.
He seemed hesitant at first to reply, but you introduced yourself with a small smile. Vaguely brushing over your new role, and what you, as well as Eris were setting out to do during this new reign of peace. The farmer rolled his shoulders back as if finding confidence. "I've been lucky… but some of the land has been struggling. There's a blight on some of the soil," he replied cautiously, his eyes still avoiding Eris's imposing figure.
"No one notified me," Eris interjected, his tone firm and harsh. But you knew there was an underlying concern that rang in his words.
"Apologies, your grace. With your father... may the cauldron bless him... he didn't like us to inform him of these issues, only to rectify them," the farmer explained, bowing slightly.
Eris went rigid, and you gave him a soft glare as if to remind him that he was supposed to be painting a new narrative here.
"I will send a harvest healer down to the farms. Please inform me if you come across such problems again," Eris instructed, his tone softer this time.
As the farmer passed you the bag of berries, Eris unexpectedly dropped a few gold coins into the man's hand, overpaying for the fruit. "Thank you, your grace," the farmer murmured gratefully before retreating.
Despite Eris's efforts, it was evident that it would take time for his people to see him in a different light. Coaxing more residents to open up proved challenging with Eris looming behind you, his presence an obvious deterrent. Determined to find a solution, you gently looped your arm through his, eliciting a faint frown and a subtle pull away from him. "What are you doing?" he grimaced at your touch.
Gods, you’d have thought you’d burned him with his reaction.
"Softening your image. Having a pretty thing on your arm won't do you any harm," you remarked with a playful smile, hoping to chip away at the walls he'd built around himself, one touch at a time. 
But despite how playful your reply was, your action was thought out. Having your charismatic smiley self on the arm of Eris, you hoped would sweeten his image, even just a little.
He merely rolled his eyes, his expression veering towards indifference, yet he didn't pull away. Your arm wrapped around his, drawing you intimately close, the warmth of the Vanserra male warding off the chill of the crisp autumn air. His scent enveloped you, a familiar blend of crackling fire, cloves, and cinnamon. 
Being this close to him wasn’t awful, a younger version of you may have even longed for this. 
Your plan had indeed worked. There was an undeniable charm in the sight of you hanging on the arm of the High Lord that seemed to thaw the reserve of the people, coaxing smiles and candid conversations from them.
The final stop for your visit was a bakery, one you remembered fondly from past visits. The sweet aroma of freshly baked goods wafted through the air, triggering a wave of nostalgia. "Please tell me you still have the pumpkin cream pie," you requested eagerly, your eyes lighting up. The baker's response was warm, and she quickly set about preparing one for you to take away. "You don’t understand how much I’ve missed this," you confessed, your excitement palpable. Eris had joined you by now, leaning casually against a nearby wall as he observed the interaction.
His expression softened as he watched you, the warmth of your personality radiating as you engaged with the baker. It was a quality of yours that had always drawn people to you, even from a young age. 
You had a way with words, a knack for always saying just the right thing. Whether it was to win an argument, gain the favour of opinion or uplift someone, the correct words always rolled off your tongue.
Pretty words from that pretty mouth.
Of course Eris knew the reason behind your charm, a secret he had long kept to himself. He knew of the abilities his little mouse possessed. 
He realised how long his gaze had settled on you, and it didn't escape his notice how the staff watched closely, some of them with a light tinge of pink covering their cheeks as they blushed,giggled and whispered between one another. In that moment, he realised the true power of having a ‘pretty thing’ on his arm.
Meanwhile, you were busy savouring the pumpkin cream, licking it off your finger with relish. "Gods, this is so good," you exclaimed, your smile infectious. But as you glanced up, you caught his unreadable gaze, and a hint of concern flickered in your eyes. 
Had you been too casual? Falling into this familiarity with him had felt so natural that you hadn’t even considered if it was maybe a tad unprofessional. Not that there would be anyone to reprimand you, but you did want to succeed in this role.
Swallowing, you decided to steer the conversation back to business. "I think this approach worked," you remarked, attempting to gauge his reaction. He was still looking forward as you both walked back to Forest House. "They were quite forthcoming with concerns once we got them to open up. There are a few areas I feel as though I'd be able to support." But his face remained inscrutable, as if he were pondering something much weightier.
Then, unexpectedly, he spoke, halting your steps in their tracks. "I want you to help me find a wife," he declared, his tone serious.
The request caught you off guard, though in hindsight, perhaps it shouldn't have. After all, he was the High Lord, and finding a suitable partner to rule his court with, and of course produce an heir, would be a natural priority for him.
"Of course, Eris," you replied, your tone as composed as you could manage. 
Why had the notion left you so uncomposed?
He smirked then softly “You were right about having a pretty thing on my arm. It worked…Plus it’s probably about time.”
You paused for a moment, your own lips spreading into a smile at what he had said. A younger version of you would have relished in this, being called ‘pretty’ by him. Perhaps, there was a version of you now that enjoyed it too.
"I'll begin looking into potential suitors for you right away." You decided to say, not trusting your usual snarky remarks.
“You can even look for those outside of Autumn, to help with your peace treaty and alliances or whatever. No one from that bastard Night Court though.”
You nodded with a soft chuckle. He had given you an olive branch. A martial alliance would be a great addition to this new era of peace.
Things were falling into place better than you had expected.
But beneath the surface, there was a pang, a feeling you couldn't quite decipher. Something you didn't dare acknowledge even to yourself.
༄ 
Dawn Court
Dawn had been the easier of the four courts to manage, with Thesan being your own High Lord. You had both arranged an in-person meeting for his people to gather and discuss their concerns in the flesh.
During Amarantha's reign, Dawn had stood steadfast in protecting its borders, thanks in part to your efforts. Reflecting on that time was hard, it brought back a mix of emotions and memories, ones you liked to leave in the depth of your mind. But the duty to defend your home had never sat comfortably with you, yet it was a responsibility you willingly shouldered. As a result, you had earned the admiration and affection of your people. 
It was ironic how once some of them had considered you and your family as outsiders, but now they revered you, often laying flowers at your feet. Pressing gifts into your hands and singing your blessings when you walked the streets. The praises and gifts had quietened down since the conflicts, but you often found a bouquet of flowers at your front door, or were stopped in the streets to be embraced.
Despite the concerns shared by all of Prythian, Dawn exhibited a sense of optimism amid the lingering apprehension about border openings. Morale remained low, and safety remained a paramount concern, but there was an obvious excitement about the prospect of travelling between courts. They wanted this new peace treaty to succeed, and they were willing to help in any way they could to change that.
For two days, you assisted Thesan in managing the affairs of Dawn, aiding him in delegating tasks and prioritising court matters. As the sun set on your final night, you retired to your townhouse nestled in the heart of the city. 
As you slumped into your living room, the sound of a deep voice filled the space. "And she finally finishes," the voice chuckled warmly.
Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa were sprawled across your couch and armchairs, making themselves at home in the space you had graciously offered them for their gatherings when they were in Prythian. They had a manor in the mortal lands, but you opened your home to them for when they needed to be more inland. 
You greeted them with a smile, leaning down to plant soft kisses on Vassa and Jurian's cheeks in greeting, before turning to Lucien. You passed him a small box, with a slice of Pumpkin Cream Pie inside. It elicited a chuckle as he picked up the slice.
“Oh you treat me so well doll.” he smirked, before devouring the slice in a few bites.
"So, have you not been on the continent?" you asked, finding your place next to Lucien and propping your feet up on his lap as you sank back into the couch.
You were utterly exhausted.
The first few weeks of this you had anticipated to be tough, but the amount of work was somewhat excessive. And it would start all over again tomorrow. The cycle repeating. Summer, Night, Autumn, Dawn.
"We were, but these two insisted on seeing you, and for the upcoming week, it's easier for them to be among the solar courts," Lucien explained with a shrug.
Vassa offered a small smile, though her discomfort at using your home without you was evident.
"Don't worry about it," you reassured her, waving off her concerns. You had known what she wanted to say within the unspoken. "My home is yours to use as you please. Besides, I'm hardly here these days anyway, so please, make yourselves at home."
With that, Jurian flashed a grin, sauntering over to your nearby trolley bearing a decanter filled with amber liquid. He quickly poured four glasses, passing them around.
“So, give us the rundown,” Jurian inquired, his gaze shifting between the two of you. You exchanged a glance with Lucien; you hadn't even had time to correspond with him this week, a reality you believed would continue. Tilting your head slightly, you encouraged Lucien to go first, while you sipped on your drink. The alcohol instantly warming your throat.
That was exactly what you needed after the long week.
Lucien began to list the concerns and events of his week, there was a clear similarity across Phyrthian you noticed. Morale was low, and people still felt divisive. Despite the unity forged in the war, that comradery hadn’t seemed to extend. Lucien gave your sock-covered feet a playful pinch, causing you to recoil them from his lap with a feigned glare. "Your turn," he quipped, prompting you to take the floor.
You ran them through your week, highlighting the issues and developments you encountered in the courts you were managing.
"You've opened up trade agreements for Summer, got Night to agree to a school, and are on the hunt for marriage suitors for my brother... Jeez, what else?" Lucien summarised with a scoff and eye roll.
"We can't all be as good as me, Lucie," you retorted, playfully nudging him with your elbow.
"Eris didn't give you too much of a hard time, did he?" Jurian asked playfully, his tone laced with familiarity.
It was nice to see how close Lucien had gotten with Jurian and Vassa, especially since his friendship fell apart with Tamlin. Lucien deserved this, deserved a circle.
You let out a nonchalant hum, absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair. "You know, Eris isn't all that bad..." you trailed off, your thoughts drifting.
"Maybe not with you... He's always had a soft spot for you," Lucien interjected, shaking his head with a knowing look.
You playfully kicked your foot against his thigh. "What's that supposed to mean?"
A knowing smirk tugged at Lucien's lips. "You know exactly what it means. He's just always been softer with you."
You rolled your eyes, recalling your recent interactions with Eris. Soft was not a word you would use to describe him—perhaps playful or teasing, a little mean even, but not soft.
"What were the infamous Inner Circle like to be amongst?" Vassa interjected, redirecting the conversation.
"Fine, polite, worked hard," you replied, feeling Lucien's subtle fidgeting beside you. You knew the question he wanted to ask but didn't dare. "She wasn't there; I haven't met her yet," you added softly, referring to his mate.
You watched as your friend glanced down at his drink from your words, his usual witty exterior faltering for a moment. Lucien hadn’t indulged you in the finer details of what had transpired between him, Elain and the Shadowsinger. What had caused Elain’s abrupt withdrawal of contact from them both, but the strain it had on him was obvious. 
The one thing Lucein had shared, was that she hadn’t outright rejected the bond yet, you hoped that was some glimmer of something worth holding onto. 
Your fingers moved instinctively, reaching out to gently press against your friend's cheek. His eyes fluttered shut momentarily at your touch, before you playfully pulled on his cheek with a tug. "Get out of that pretty little head of yours, Lucie," you teased, tapping his cheek once more.
The touch had pulled his mind back to reality, as he swore under his breath and smacked your hand away. 
"Gods, you fae are so complicated, with all your complexities, bonds and relationships," Jurian quipped, his tone laced with amusement. You couldn't deny he had a point. Whether politically, platonically, or romantically, there always seemed to be layers upon layers, it’s what was making your new job all that much harder.
"Oh like you humans are any better." Lucien retorted quickly, there was a playfulness in his tone as he sipped on his drink.
"I'm sure if everyone got together and shared some drinks, we'd all be fine," Vassa added, as she raised her drink in the air. The liquid sloshing in her glass.
"Yeah, why can't we all just get shit-faced and go dancing or something? Nothing bonds people like a shared hangover," Jurian grinned.
The room filled with laughter as Lucien remarked something about the last time Jurian was hungover, Vassa quipping in. Your thoughts left you for a moment as they drifted to what Jurian had said.
Getting drunk and dancing had always been a release you’d loved, one shared by most fae and humans. Perhaps one the the few similarities you all shared. And although "getting shit-faced" wasn't the most elegant phrase, the sentiment behind it rang true.
“You two are actually onto something there…” you spoke, the words leaving your lips as your idea formed in your mind. You’d sat up now, looking at Lucien who only frowned at you.
"I'm pretty sure we can't arrange for everyone to have a huge piss-up," Lucien remarked dryly. “As much as I’d love it, it doesn’t feel very…appropriate.”
"We’re obviously not going to organise some sleazy boozer” you rolled your eyes at him.
“Shame.” Jurian piped up.
“But we can arrange a ball.” You smiled that dangerous grin that you knew Lucien found hard to ignore. “Phyrthian’s first ever Peace Ball” you continued, coining the term there and then.
Lucien leaned back into the couch, still looking at you as he digested your words. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, perhaps figuring out logistics for your outrageous idea. 
But slowly that fox-like grin you loved so much spread across his lips.
He put his glass up in the air “A fucking Peace Ball…”
You quickly raised your glass with a chuckle, Vassa and Jurian raising theirs too. 
Trade agreements, a school, diplomatic martial arrangments and now…a fucking Peace Ball. Lucien had made the right call bringing you on board; there was no one more convincing, more persuasive in all of Prythian. You and your pretty words would bring peace to this land, even if you had to force it upon them.
“Cheers!” 
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Next Part >> coming soon.
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a/n: Decided to post this early, sorry again if it's a little boring, just trying to set everything up. Would love to know what you think so far. How are you expecting this story to unfold? Is there anything in particular you're hoping to see with the story/characters/relationships? Would love your input <3 - Lottie
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yanderes-galore · 2 days
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Can you do a Childe from Genshin with an x reader? Maybe in regards to captivity and wanting to keep them safe from the cold, cruel world
Sure! Sorry for the long wait... I hope you enjoy :) No real plot... just a small thing with darling stuck in captivity. Sorry if this is too short or OOC. I wasn't sure what direction to take it.
His Hypocrisy
Yandere! Childe Short Scene
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Isolation, Restraints, Forced affection, Manipulation, Possessive/Protective behavior, Violence/Murder implied in one line, Sadism, Forced relationship.
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"I'm keeping you safe." The living weapon coos, caressing your cheek with a gloved hand. "I've seen what the world can do to people... I'm living proof!"
Childe... Ajax... is a hypocrite. He vows to protect and care for you. He promises no harm will come to you.
But he still locks you away like some prisoner... he claims to care for family, but the blood on his hands belongs to yours no doubt. Childe is a selfish man... cunning and manipulative like the rest of the Harbingers.
He says he cares for you...
Yet he no doubt cares for just himself.
"I can tell you see me as a monster." Childe whispers, the Harbinger leaning closer. "I won't deny that I am if that's what you're expecting."
You had met Childe in Liyue. With a friendly exterior you used to trust him. But soon enough you saw him for what he is...
A possessive and bloodthirsty monster... one that was just waiting to strike once he saw you...
You being stuck here was just the aftermath of your mistakes.
"Trust me, dear... you're much better off with me. The Fatui will help me with that much." Childe chuckles, squeezing your cheek a bit. "Of course... you'll only be seeing me. Don't want to make me jealous, right?"
You say nothing to your captor. The Harbinger chuckles before pecking your lips. His actions are affectionate, teasing, but you can sense his darker intentions.
"You taste so lovely..." Childe whispers, pulling away. "I feel pursuing you was worth it in the end. Even if it meant you had to be kept in chains until I garner loyalty from you."
You glare at him as he pulls away, petting your head like some pet. The room he keeps you in is meant to be comfortable... yet in reality it's just a pretty cell for you to sit in. You don't wish to be loyal to such a man.
Childe knows this... but the grin on his face never leaves him. He knows he sadly isn't going to get your loyalty by normal means. That's alright...
Childe plans to play with you first anyways... hopefully he doesn't break his new toy too fast.
He brought you in to protect you... however it seems he is just another danger to you instead.
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astupidweeb69 · 3 days
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hello!! I am kinda nervous to write this bc I absolutely love your writing and the way you portray Toby is just so real. I love how you make him both a loser and a force of nature, like just bc he has no rizz doesn't mean he can't do anything lol. But I was lowkey thinking about your stories the other day and like, what if Y/N also had some screws loose? Like he pops up at her house covered in the blood of some guy who wouldn't leave her alone and instead of calling the police like a smart person she's just like: " 😳 omg you did this for me??" I know it's unrealistic and silly but it's also kind of interesting???
Ticci Toby x Violent! Reader
Toby with an unhinged reader? Well - there's a recipe for disaster lmao.
I know I said I'm not taking requests but this ended up becoming a scenario. I just had some inspo - hope this is what you were looking for! Because the reader isn't submissive? Idk
Y/N has some messed-up thoughts and there are mentions of violence under the cut!:
The reader I imagine in this case would have only seen how cringey Toby is - thinking he was just a creepy guy who's taken a liking to them and would avoid him at all costs. Probably up until this point assume that he's a wimp (Toby would initially try his best to seem weaker and unassuming when he approaches the person he likes)
The scenario I imagine is that Y/N grew up around conflict, and is fully comfortable around violence, even throwing a few punches themselves here and there. Maybe ended up in Juvie when they were younger and now works in some retail job - something where they regularly interact with the general public.
A customer tries to hit on Y/N when Toby's there - big mistake.
But Toby doesn't say anything at first.
He doesn't have to.
Y/N immediately shuts the customer down. But the guy doesn't let up. Curses are thrown back and forth, Y/N's wrist is grabbed.
He touched you.
Toby doesn't like that. Not one bit.
You get reprimanded by your boss after you punched the unruly customer in the face.
Luckily they didn't press charges.
You had a bit of an edge, from your surly demeanor and fucked sense of humor, but Toby had no idea you'd do that.
Kind of turned him on. He knew he picked you for a reason.
But alas, that was the extent of your revenge. You already had a record of aggravated assault and you didn't need another one added to the list.
Luckily for you that scrawny, lanky boy who always stared at you when he came in had a plan in motion.
Late at night, a knock on the door wakes you up from a nap on the couch. Of course, you look through the peephole first before answering.
Red.
Everything is red.
Only until you hear a familiar voice pipe up do you realize who it is.
Toby.
The blood covered so much of his face it was hard to point out who he was at first.
He speaks to you through the door, somehow already knowing you're there.
And he tells you what he did.
It takes a moment for you to process all the grizzly details, the way he followed the man, cornered him in an alley, and beat him so hard he'd pretty sure he cracked his skull on the brick wall.
He sounded giddy about it. Gleeful.
He was far from the loser you thought he was.
And you liked it.
Liked that he did that for you.
After all, in your head, hurting someone for someone else was the greatest form of love. It was the kind of devotion you'd always dreamed of from a partner.
You open the door.
Toby is surprised, but soon sees a look on your face he recognized. The kind of expression of sick joy and arousal that comes with blood lust.
You're blushing too. Blushing for him.
Everything was finally coming together perfectly, and once you let him into your home, he's never going to leave.
The relationship would start right off the bat. Toby is one to rush things.
It's all to claim you. Both mentally and physically. So you're attached to the hip pretty much. Expect a lot of PDA (Toby does not care who sees lol)
And a reader who's fully on board?
Yeah you're going to bring out the worst in each other. He'll encourage you to do more crimes, to get bloodier, to join him.
It would be a very bad situation for everyone involved.
But especially for anyone unfortunate enough to cross the paths of you two lovebirds.
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Text
ATEEZ and how they show their love <3
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Summary:  ot 8 and how they show their love <3
Genre: fluff
Pairing: OT8 x reader (separate drabbles)
Word Count:  n/a
Warnings: none
[note: Okay, this was the fist time, that I did something like this and I have to admit, that it is only how I imagine the boys to be like. I do hope you enjoy reading them though! RE-UPLOAD from my old blog @/justsomedreaming, was requested there by @mitproblem]
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© by bethelighthalazia. Do not repost, copy or translate. Unless stated otherwise, those works are mine and born from my own ideas. I don't have any claim on the mentioned real existing Idols whatsoever.
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SEONGHWA 
Seonghwa's love is quiet but visible to everyone.
He loves to pamper you, make sure you're fed and reminds you to take breaks and get enough rest and sleep. When you go out, he holds your hand, often wearing at least one matching item of clothing, no matter what it might be. He would also shower you with gifts, mostly little trinkets and not rarely matching things. 
When you smile or are happy, he always watches you with this dreamy, stupidly in love smile on his lips. When you're down, he doesn't need to be told, he notices and pulls you into comforting hugs.
He'll always tell you how much he loves you, but he prefers to Do so through his actions.
And he would cook for you, especially when he can sit and eat with you together.
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HONGJOONG
Hongjoong's love is silent and invisible to everyone.
He loves when you join him in his studio, even if it is to nag him to take breaks. Whenever you bring him food, he'll eat it, asking you if you have eaten and slept. If you fall asleep in the studio, he'd make sure to cover you with a blanket and also make sure that you're comfortable while he keeps working. 
Joong can't but smile when he looks at you, often exchanging cute and hidden looks with you.
Even though he's not the type of person to show physical affection, he'd cuddle up with you, whispering love confession into your ear.
When you go out, he'd shy away from public displays of affection, but he'll always make sure to show you he's there, brushing his hand against yours or other small moments of skinship without others noticing.
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YUNHO
Yunho's love is quiet but very visible to everyone.
Yunho loves to hold your hands or hug you. If you are cold, he'll offer you his scarf, jacket or gloves when outside, when at home, he'll always give you his hoodie or pull you against his chest. 
When he kisses you, he puts all his feelings for you into it, when it's in public, he'll get very flustered afterwards though. 
He will always make sure that you know how much he loves you, be it through his actions or words, he'll prove that his heart only belongs to you.
When in crowds, he'll always hold your hand or pull you against his side,so you won't get separated.
He WILL try to make you play videogames with him, but you often just end up watching him play.
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YEOSANG
Yeosang's love is quiet and peaceful, visible to observant people.
You and Yeosang don't need many words. When you're reading, he'll take a book and sit with you silently, reading as well. When you are alone, he's talkative, always asks about yourself, your interests and how your day was. He'll always tell you that he loves you and he loves to give you affectionate nicknames whenever it's just you two. 
When others are around, he'll still be close to you, occasionally exchanging skinship, but not as obvious for other people.
He loves holding hands or cuddling, but this is also more for when you two are alone. He loves to give you flowers. He'll also pick up on things that you mention in conversations that seem not very important at the first glance, but he'll always remember those things.
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SAN
San's love is loud and very visible to everyone.
When you are not cuddling, he will make sure to pull you into his arms, no matter where you are. San is very vocal about how much he loves you, telling you at any time that you're his most loved treasure. He'll always ramble to his friends and family about you and the amount of love he has for you.
He takes any occasion to shower you with gifts, be it small trinkets, jewelry or huge presents. 
He'll also secretly buy an engagement ring very early in your relationship, because he WILL marry you one day.
When you're outside, he'll hold your hand, always sit close to you and never leave your side.
San can't hide when he's jealous, so he often pouts when he sees you talking or being friendly with other men.
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MINGI
Mingi's love is loud and visible for everyone.
Mingi, where to start.
He is shy when it comes to voice out his love for you, it's not easy for him to say “I love you”, instead he will use other words or phrases. He'll give you affectionate nicknames and won't hesitate to use them in public. 
He LOVES to kiss your neck, whether it's in public or at home. Hugs and physical touch are a must, he loves to have you close to him, it grounds him. Mingi will always reach for your hand to hold it, making sure to not hurt you with his rings. 
Mingi also will care for you silently, putting food on your plate while eating, making sure you'll eat well and he'll make sure you take breaks from working and that you have a healthy sleep schedule.
He will physically drag you from your work (when you're overworking yourself in the home office) and make you lay down to cuddle and sleep in his arms!
He's easily jealous and he knows it, he'll always make sure people know you are his.
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WOOYOUNG
Wooyoung’s love is very loud and very visible for everyone.
This guy is a dramatic, whiney and absolutely touchy person. He loves you with all his heart (and his body, believe me!).
There is no time that he will not cling to you. You're out with the boys? He'll hold your hand or just have his arms around you. You're visiting his parents? His hand on the small of your back or around your waist. You're at home with him and the boys? You're in his embrace all time, he'll make the others get up and get snacks or drinks for you, so he won't have to let go of you.
Woo is the first to say “I love you.”, probably shouting it at you in front of everyone. He'll tell you how much he loves you at any moment in the day. 
Woo will shower you with kisses,touch and presents. When he's on tour, he'll facetime you (if it was for him, he'd do so 24/7 because he misses you so much).
He'd panic and freak out if you don't say ”I love you” back or pull away from his touch, scared to possibly lose you. When you're down, he will do anything in his might to cheer you up somehow.
He's very jealous, getting whiney and clingy when he sees you talk or be friendly with other guys.
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JONGHO
Jongho's love is loud but only visible to observant people.
Jongho, sweet, innocent Jongho.
He is not one to display his affection very openly, especially not in public. There will be physical touch, but small ones only. Fingers brushing against yours, his hand hovering on the small of your back, his leg touching yours when sitting next to each other. 
When the two of you are alone? He'll be very cuddly. He loves to rest his head on your chest to listen to your heartbeat. But cuddly Jongho is for you only, not for others to see or know (not even for his hyungs).
What he will do is tell everyone that you're his. He'll proudly tell you “I love you” as often as possible, no matter who is around. 
Jongho will also shower you with presents and flowers. He'll also make sure to care for you, make sure you eat well, sleep and take enough breaks to rest.
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taglist: @mingis-mizu, @tinyelfperson
(if you want to be added to a taglist, follow the taglist-link in my pinned post)
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reneerappisms · 2 days
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HIII :D
if it's not bothersome, i would really like to know your cadina hc about pda, cuddling and sleeping schedule :)))
HELLO!!! I can absolutely do that. I'm kinda sick so pls bear with me LMFAO.
concerning pda:
regina is NOT comfortable with it at all at first, unless it's, like, incredibly subtle or can easily be played off as friendly / platonic. leave it to closeted lesbian panic to make little things like that difficult. HOWEVER, when regina's out or otherwise more secure in her sexuality and who she is, they're probably pretty bad about it. (this is bad for cady if only because it takes her a while to get used to kissing regina in public in particular, and she's always very flustered by it.) I don't necessarily think they're super big on kissing in public, though. like they're not the. make out in front of the lockers in between classes. type. but little kisses before they have to split apart for classes or after lunch or what have you? yes.
cady holds regina's hand, like, literally all the time. before regina's out, cady links pinkies with her in the halls sometimes. she likes to be touching regina at, like, all times. she's a wildly anxious person, and after spending enough time with regina post spring fling to even make it to the relationship stage of things, she finds reginas presence to be a very comforting constant in her life, and little things like sitting right up next to her and holding her hand remind cady that it's all real.
concerning cuddling:
a lot of it. all the time. forever. even if it's not, like, full - blown bodies pressed nice and close, curled up in bed or on the couch together type cuddling, cady's at least usually leaning against regina. (see the "cady likes to be touching regina at literally all times" statement above.) regardless of the situation, if they're sitting together or laying together on a bed or a couch they're probably going to end up cuddling. or at least very close. cady likes drawing little designs on regina's skin and tracing words against her back and arms and legs and whatever else while they're cuddled up. regina likes playing with cady's hair, and probably makes remarks when cady switches shampoos because of it.
regarding sleeping schedules:
it goes both ways. regina finds herself waking up early at times to match cady's "early to bed, early to rise" style of nighttime routine, but cady also often finds herself staying up into the wee hours of the morning with regina. their sleeping schedules even out a little more come college, but in highschool it's a lot of, like, light scolding. cady scolding regina gently for costing herself sleep by getting up earlier than she's used to, and regina scolding cady for getting no sleep at all for her. they go to bed at more, like, average times when they stay the night with one another. like instead of cady staying up until 4am on a facetime call with regina trying to get her to do her homework or whatever, they'll be curled up in bed and starting to doze off by 11pm.
hope these sate your headcanon needs!! I love yapping about them. cadina yappatron 9000 over here.
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sea-lanterns · 18 hours
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hello angey, i know you don't really answer asks related to real life so you probably won't see this, but this might be the last time this fishy gets to talk to you so i just wanted to say thank you for all the love and joy your blog has brought me over the last year. i have way more of your blog in my bookmarks than i imagined 😳 the aquarium has also been a great place of comfort and i can't thank you enough for all the content you've given me throughout the many months i've been here. i'll cherish it to the end. thank you for everything—🥞
Well, I hope that wherever you go, or wherever you may be later, you remember all the fun things we did in the aquarium together! :)
If this might be your final ask then so be it! Thank you for being apart of my aquarium, 🥞 anon! Your thirsts (I have seen all of them even if I didn’t answer all of them) have always brightened up my day and it was nice to read all the fun little ideas you had regarding the genshin women.
The aquarium will miss you, 🥞 anon! Whatever happens though, the 🥞 emoji will always be yours in my list of anons <3
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im-a-wonderling · 19 hours
Text
Eyes, Part 5 ~ Anakin Skywalker
Summary: Knowing if she makes the wrong move, her love or her life will end catastrophically, Y/N grapples with the decision before her.
Warnings: unedited
Word count: 3.1k
Eyes masterlist
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Vader’s cloak disappeared around the corner, and you sank to your knees, trying to hold the emotion in, to keep yourself from fracturing. But the harder you tried to contain it, the greater the pain grew. 
Finally, a choked sob broke through your lips, and the dam broke. 
All the heartache of the last few months came crashing down. Your whole life had been suspended since Order 66, as if you’d died with all the other Jedi. There were some days where you wondered if you should’ve, if only so that you didn’t have to live on in this way. If you’d died that day, you never would’ve learned what happened to Anakin, and you’d die believing that somehow, the two of you would be reunited. 
But this? 
This was the height of cruelty.
The tears fell like falling stars, and on them, you wished you could rewrite the past. It would have been better to have died than to live through tragedy such as this.
Vader didn’t come back.
You waited in the escape pod bay for a long time, pulling yourself together in preparation for his return. But your only company were the stormtroopers guarding the door.
Is that it then? you wondered as you finally got to your feet and traipsed back to your chambers, the stormtroopers never more than two paces away. Had Vader given up? Was he simply going to turn you over to the Emperor? 
The thought normally would’ve made you seize with fear. Instead, you sat on the bed, staring at nothing. 
If this was the end, then it was the end. What could possibly be the point in fighting it anymore? 
Hope had fluttered away with its fragile wings, probably somewhere where it could be acted upon instead of clung to like an inch of rope in a deep, dark chasm.
You had no lightsaber after Vader sliced it in two, no supplies, nothing of value. Even if you somehow managed to ditch your stormtrooper escort long enough to get to the escape pod bay, it would be naive of you to think Vader wouldn’t send ships after you, or come after you himself.
There was no way out.
In a few hours, you would die at the hands of the Emperor. Your only comfort was to know that you would be freed from this miserable existence and join with the thousands of other Jedi before you. 
The door of your chamber slid open.
You didn’t bother getting up because it wasn’t Vader. You couldn’t feel his darkness through the Force. 
“Food for the prisoner.”
You turned your head just in time to see a stormtrooper set the tray down on the nightstand by your bed.
“I’m not hungry,” you replied, your voice tired and soft. “Take it away.”
The doors shut, leaving you alone with the stormtrooper, who didn’t move. “Didn’t you hear me?” you asked crossly. “I don’t want it!”
“In twenty minutes,” the stormtrooper said quietly, “right when this ship passes Asmall, the Rebel Alliance is going to attack.”
You leapt to your feet, staring at him. 
“You’ve already found the escape pod bay. I’ll incapacitate the guards outside your door. Get yourself to the bay and off the ship, and the Rebels will take care of the rest.” He gave a quick nod before opening your door.
You almost called after him, but the sight of the two troopers outside your door made you stop. 
The door slid closed, and you sat on your bed, heart thumping and your hands shaking in response to the sudden rush of hope. Was this a trick? Or was it real? Even if it was a trick, you decided, dying while trying to get away was better than dying for the Emperor’s amusement. 
You felt the darkness a mere moment before the door slid open again. You stayed seated where you were, staring up at Vader.
Taking his time, Vader stepped into the room. 
The door remained open, allowing the two stormtroopers outside to follow him in. 
Your heart picked up. Vader always seemed to want privacy for your conversations before…so what did it mean if he no longer did now? 
“This is…your last chance.” 
The unasked question hung in the air, as if Vader already knew your answer and wanted to draw out the time before he received it. 
You eyed the stormtroopers warily. For all you knew, if you refused, they were prepared to drag you off and throw you in an actual cell again. If you said yes, did you have a better chance of still getting away whenever the Rebel Alliance started attacking the ship? If you said yes, even just as a way of stalling until you got away, would you be able to stomach it? 
Even your heart aflame with the hope of getting away, you knew your answer. “I won’t.”
Vader took a long, rattling breath. “Why not?”
“You know why.” You got to your feet and walked to the other side of the bed, putting more distance in between you and them. 
“You don’t want to take part…in any more loss of life.” Vader stepped closer. “But you were willing…to kill me…when we fought.” 
Blindsided, you took a step back. “I–”
“I felt it…you cannot deny…the darkness.”
“It’s different. The galaxy would be better off if I killed you.” 
One of the stormtroopers behind Vader shifted slightly. Vader addressed them without turning: “Stand guard over the door.”
The stormtroopers scurried away. Fear started wafting through the room as you held your breath, waiting for what Vader would do. 
Vader hit the button for the door with his fist, and it slid closed. 
He remained where he was, with his back to you. “Y/N…I…”
Silence fell, but you knew it wasn’t because he was trying to catch his breath. It was because he didn’t know what to say. You blinked, and Vader was suddenly in front of you, without so much as a whisper of his boots across the floor. Your breath caught in your chest, for you’d never seen Vader move that quickly. “If you do not…join the Empire–”
“I will be killed,” you whispered. The Force inside you pulsed in response to the fear that rushed through you. But fear had never been a stranger. “So be it.”
“Does our history…mean nothing?” Even though his voice hadn’t changed, you felt the current of desperation in the words.
“If you are not Anakin, then why should our history mean anything?” you argued. “Why should I trust you? If you’re not Anakin, why would I have any reason to join you?”
It was disturbing to know from Vader’s silence that he was struggling to compose himself yet being completely unable to see it. “Because…I love you.”
“Anakin is the only man who ever loved me, and you say he is dead.”
“Anakin died…when this body burned.”
“Oh, I think the true Anakin died long before that body burned.” Your soft words fell like bombs, and you could’ve sworn the room darkened. “It doesn’t matter if you’re him or you’re not.” You swallowed hard, trying to keep your nerve. “Anakin was a sith. Darth Vader is a sith. Nothing changes.” 
Silence fell once more. 
Vader remained still, and while the Force seemed to be swarming around him, your head was clear and your heart was resolute. 
Then his arms were moving, and you shut your eyes, convinced you were finally going to feel the famed chokehold around your neck. And in spite of yourself, you were so grateful that it would end at his hands and not the Emperor’s. 
But instead of a pressure on your throat, you felt two arms wrap around you. There was no warmth or softness to this body, and when the arms pulled you into Vader’s chest, the electronic panel there dug into your torso. You’d never been held by a droid, but you imagined this is what it would feel like. You were about to pull away from his embrace when you heard it.
Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
You squeezed your eyes shut, and a solitary tear fell down your cheek as you sucked in a ragged breath. You could hear Anakin’s…Vader’s heart. The heart you’d once longed for, received, and then lost. 
One of Vader’s hands came to the back of your neck, cradling you just like Anakin used to do. “Does my love…mean nothing?”
You drew away from him, not bothering to hide the tears. “Attachment isn’t love,” you said, your voice shaking. “But I guess Anakin Skywalker always struggled with that.” 
Vader cocked his head, and you braced yourself for the vehement response that he wasn’t Anakin. But when he spoke, his voice was strangely soft.
“You’ve lost everything…but your life…and you are willing…to give it away?”
“My life is not the only thing I have left,” you breathed.
You felt it then, radiating off of Vader so powerfully, it almost stripped you of semblance.
Hope.
He thought you talked of him.
Your heart screamed in agony, but you shoved it aside as you had always been taught. “I am a Jedi.” You held your head high. “And to lose that would be a fate worse than death.”
Through the Force, a surge of darkness rippled through the space between you. Vader shifted, a long distorted exhale escaping the mask. “If you don’t want…to be with me…that’s fine. Just don’t make…a rash decision.”
“It’s not rash.” You tightened your grip on the lightsaber you held behind your back, the lightsaber you’d grabbed from his belt when he hugged you. “Believe me, I’ve thought this through.”
“Why don’t you–” The ship around you shuddered slightly, and Vader twisted to look at the door.
There wouldn’t be a better moment: it was now or never. 
You almost brought out the lightsaber when the doors slid open, revealing a stormtrooper. “Sir, we’re under attack!”
Vader stormed over to the door, and the stormtrooper lowered his head. “Stay here…watch the prisoner.”
With that, Vader swept away. 
You eyed the stormtrooper. Was this the same trooper who’d delivered the message or was this a different one? If it wasn’t, was this still the best opportunity you were going to get? You had Vader’s lightsaber, but you didn’t want to raise it against any stormtroopers if you could help it. 
The stormtrooper standing guard poked their head in. “What are you–”
In a flash, the first stormtrooper knocked the butt of his blaster against his partner’s head, and his partner crumbled. “Go!” 
No sooner had he uttered the word, you burst out of the room, sprinting down the hallway for the escape pods.
A pair of patrolling stormtroopers turned as you caught up to them. Taking a leaf out of your unknown hero’s book, you brought Vader’s lightsaber down on their heads, sending them to the floor in unconscious heaps. Grabbing one of their fallen blasters, you tucked it into the waistband of your pants. 
When you caught sight of another pair headed towards you, you ducked into a closet, waited until they’d passed, and quickly continued on. 
Running towards the final corner to turn before you reached your escape, you scoffed at the engineer who’d designed this ship for designing your temporary bedroom’s proximity to the escape pod bay. Heart pounding and lungs fighting for breath, you rounded the corner, ready to run into one and get off the ship.
Except the bay wasn’t empty. 
“Where do you…think you’re going?”
Vader stood in between you and the pods. 
The ship shuddered again, and you wondered what conflict Vader was willfully missing to be here. “I’m leaving,” you said shortly, seeing no point in being subtle. Anyone with half a brain would be able to figure out what you were up to, and Vader wasn’t that dim-witted. 
“Stay.” 
You breathed against the stab of pain. 
If there was ever a moment to fight, to devote everything you had and everything you were to combat, it was now. Your life depended on it. 
You ignited his lightsaber, cringing at the red but holding tight. “No.”
Vader didn’t move at first, the red light throwing harsh shadows onto his black armor. Then, he slowly raised his hand, not outward as if to strangle you, but to brandish something. 
Your heart leapt into your throat.
“My lightsaber,” you whispered. 
The lightsaber he’d made for you what felt like ages ago, in another life. The one he’d split in half a few days ago. And the one he’d apparently fixed for you.
“Y/N…please…stay.”
You lifted your eyes to the ceiling, keeping the tears and fears at bay and clutching onto every shred of strength and self-respect you possessed. “If I have nightmares for the rest of my life, so be it.” You looked back at Vader, and a tear finally fell. “But I need to be able to live with myself when I wake.” 
The moment the final word left you, you pulled out the blaster and fired.
The harsh sound of the blast leaving the chamber barely reached your ears before Vader ignited your blue lightsaber and deflected it. 
Less than a breath and he was upon you. The red and blue light flashing through the bay with the exchanged lightning quick strikes made your eyesight a little blurry. Every clash of the lightsabers was like a slice to the heart, but your life was on the line, and you knew it. 
Vader lifted your saber above his head, and you were almost too late in lifting his to meet it. 
The two of you grappled, his might pushing against you, forcing you backwards until you hit one of the power stations. You were trapped between cold metal and Vader, moments left before you lost. 
So you did the only thing you could think of. 
You hooked your leg around his knee. 
Vader went down to the floor with a thud, and your lightsaber flew from his hand, the blue light disappearing as it deactivated. You stood above him, holding his red saber aloft as you gazed down at him. 
You could deal the fatal blow. 
You could rid the galaxy of the evil which you might’ve had a hand in creating. 
But did you have the strength to strike him down?
In your hesitation, you knew the answer to that. 
“Y/N…” Vader’s voice was pleading. Did he plead for mercy? For death? Or for you? 
Your hesitation lasted too long. Vader slowly got to his feet. You held his lightsaber out, urging him to stay back, but his helmet didn’t so much as dip to look at his own weapon pointed at his gut.  “Y/N, please.” 
Before your hesitation could cost you your life and freedom, you turned off the lightsaber and hurled it. With the power of the Force behind it, the lightsaber flew through the air like a miniature torpedo, colliding with his helmet. 
Vader stumbled, and you leapt into action before he could recover. 
Sprinting faster than you ever had in your life, you reached the pod. Heart beating wildly, you slammed your hand onto the button to close the hatch. As the doors slid closed, Vader reached out towards you. “Y/N!”
The pod ejected, and the momentum threw you to the floor.
For a moment, you just lay there, mind whirling with the events that just occurred. But then your mind caught up with the present, and you scrambled to your feet, sitting in the seat to put your hands on the controls.
-
Vader burst onto the flight deck. “The rebels.”
The general heard the unspoken question. “We’re holding them off, sir, but it would be unwise to linger without back-up.”
“We must–” Vader started to say.
“Sir!” one of the navigators called to the general. “One of our escape pods was launched!”
“Any life forms aboard?” the general asked.
“One, sir, but the authentication was hijacked!”
“The prisoner!” the general said, turning to Vader. “Sir, we’ll go after her. Dispatch the TIE–”
“No.”
The general paused, giving Vader a strange look. “Sir?”
Vader gripped Y/N’s lightsaber, the one he made for her. The one he fixed for her. The last remnant of her he possessed. “Get us to Coruscant…before the rebels…finish us off.”
“But sir–” Vader advanced on the general, who wisely backed away. “Yes, sir, of course, sir.” The general turned back to the pilot, his throat rippling as he swallowed. “Prepare for the jump to lightspeed!”
Vader left the deck. 
His body ached and burned as usual, but somehow, the pain felt new.
He found himself, standing in front of the window in the escape pod bay again. He watched the escape pod grow smaller and smaller. The ship whined, signaling the jump to lightspeed was near, but he kept his eyes fixed on the pod until the Star Destroyer lurched forward and the stars blurred.
-
There must’ve been some reason the Star Destroyer wasn’t firing at you, but you didn’t have time to wonder. You needed to put as much distance between you and the ship as possible. The sooner you reached the surface of Asmall, the more time you had to find a decent hiding spot.
You’d reached the planet’s atmosphere before you dared to look at the radar. To your astonishment, no TIE fighters pursued you. You twisted in your seat to look out the window in the back of the cramped pod. 
The Star Destroyer was gone.
Your hands shook on the controls as you swiveled back to face the planet. 
You kept glancing back, certain the Star Destroyer would come back, but it stayed gone. 
You’d lost all your supplies, including both Vader’s lightsaber and your own. All you had were the clothes on your back and the near worthless escape pod. 
And your life.
Darth Vader had killed countless people, even people on his own side. But he’d let you go, perhaps in more ways than one. Perhaps…perhaps he was still alive. Perhaps, in the heart of Vader, there still lived a remnant of Anakin Skywalker.
But even if there was, you knew that you would never see either one of them again, and the last memory you would have was of him reaching out for you.
-
And Eyes is officially complete! If you enjoyed this, check out my Obi-Wan fanfic Rescue Me.
Overall taglist:
@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers
Eyes taglist:
@idiotreblogger @inpraizeof @katsukiswrld @queenofnigthdarkness @stxrrielle @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @lollaa-puff @xferalblog @violetstyless @polarischk @moon4moony @msrawog @ninjarose23 @mushy-mushroom04 @ordinarylokix @anakin-pilled
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vettelsvee · 1 day
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JUST LIKE YOU | an Oscar Piastri fanfiction
oscar piastri x mclaren intern reader (fc: willow shields)
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Claire Webber, ever since she met Diana Vettel in 2012, has dreamed of nothing else but being part of the Formula 1 world... apart from being like the wife of the four-time world champion she used to hate when she was little.
One day, after much pondering and ruminating, especially with imposter syndrome and fear creeping in because she was four months away from finishing university, the blonde decides to make a change in her life with Diana's influence. Doing her final Aerospace Engineering internship, her major, in one of the top-tier teams in motorsport sounded good, didn't it? Plus, she wouldn't be alone: she would accompany Mark Webber, her uncle, anywhere in the world as a representative of the one who seemed destined to be rookie of the year, Oscar Piastri.
The Australian had a clear goal: no matter what, carve out a space in a male-dominated world, and ensure that those months didn't end without her having a possibility of a job contract, of any kind, despite being twenty-one years old, with zero experience, and being heavily influenced by her uncle.
If Diana managed to get in through a failed internship program, with no references, and ended up becoming one of the most well-known female faces in the top tier of motorsport, then she could fight for it too.
The main problem, and something that was not even close to being on her radar, was not only that she was starting to get closer to the new guy from McLaren, but also that Diana and Sebastian Vettel felt like their story was repeating itself with the youngsters.
¡!
[1] JUST LIKE YOU is a fictional work. Everything written in this story is entirely fictional, and any resemblance to real events or people is purely coincidental. Also, the portrayal of both celebrities and original characters does not correspond to their real-life descriptions.
[2] The story is set during the 2023 Formula 1 season, and some drivers, as Mark Webber or Sebastian Vettel will be paired with other people and not their real wives. If you're not comfortable with this, please stop reading.
[3] Constructive criticism is completely allowed, always within the bounds of respect, as I am not a writer and this is simply a hobby. Similarly, weblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated as feedback.
[4] The main plot, main characters, fictional ones and graphics are solely my creation. For this reason, no type of copying, adaptation, or translation is permitted, and in the event of such a case, it will be immediately reported.
[5] I am not a professional writer and, also, I would like to remark that English is not my first language, so I apologise in advance for any mistake. Please, do not sound to correct me. I will gladly accept corrections and I will fix errors as soon as I can.
MASTERLIST HERE!
Said everything, I hope you enjoy this story and, if you do not mind, do not forget leaving a vote and your comments. Feedback is truly appreciated too!
Thank you so much! :)
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Bengiyo Queer Cinema Syllabus
Not to sound repetitive but, I had a busy couple weeks, but finally had a second to return to @bengiyo’s queer cinema syllabus. I am currently working my way through Unit 4: Heartbreak Alley, the totally light-hearted, definitely not agonizing section of the syllabus where I get to watch countless acts of violence be committed against queer people. Thank fuck I have Lesbians waiting for me at the end of this unit. The films in Unit 4 are: Bent (1997), Strange Fruit (2004), Boys Don’t Cry (1999), Brokeback Mountain (2005), Parting Glances (1986), Philadelphia (1993), The Living End (1992), Holding the Man (2015), Jeffery (1995), and Boys on the Side (1995).
Today I will be talking about
Parting Glances (1986) dir. Bill Sherwood
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[Run Time: 1:30, Available: tubi and fubo, Language: English]
Summary: As Michael and Robert, a gay couple in New York, prepare for Robert's departure for a two-year work assignment in Africa, Michael must face Robert's true motives for leaving while dealing with their circle of eccentric friends, including Nick, who is living with AIDS.
Cast: 
John Bolger as Robert
Richard Ganoung as Michael 
Steve Buscemi as Nick 
__
Well, I have to say this was very much not what I was expecting for the first AIDS related movie of the syllabus. After some pretty hefty violent deaths of queer characters in the first half of Unit 4, I was very much anticipating the heart wrenching tragedies to continue immediately once I hit the AIDS epidemic portion. But Parting Glances very much subverted my expectations of what I was walking in to, because honestly…so much of it was lovely. 
It’s not that tragedy is not a part of this movie, it is, it’s just hidden under the layer of friendship, community, and love that feels like the core theme of the film. I am thinking about the party at Joan’s and how much happiness and celebration was happening there, with community abound, and yet how Michael kept telling people they should call Nick because he would appreciate it, showing just how much Nick has lost of his own community since his HIV/AIDS diagnosis. 
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I really loved how real these relationships to one another felt, the way that Michael and Robert were playful with each other, the way that Nick sat on Michael’s lap so casually for a few minutes when Michael cooked him dinner, I loved the conversation Robert had with his ex-girlfriend, the young and hopeful queer boy who wished to live forever. I just loved watching the queer community be a queer community. 
Even in the moments that get a little dour, where Michael gets especially weepy with Nick, those scenes did not make me sad, did not destroy me the way other films in this syllabus have, because that is just grief. Grief is a mighty and terrible thing, but I find beauty in it as well. I find beauty and loveliness in the fact that those tears came from Michael finally admitting to Nick that he loved him, that Nick got to hear himself that he was loved, especially when so many people seemed to have fallen away from him after his diagnosis. I find comfort in the conversations about death that Michael and Joan have together, because those are conversations I’ve had, they feel familiar, they feel like a natural part of life, perhaps they should not have to feel those points so soon, but Nick himself is right, living forever is the only thing none of us can do. 
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I really loved that we saw Nick when he was at a stage in his illness where he was simply being careful, but was still full of life, energetic, that he was able to be a support system for Michael and was not only being tended to. We know what is coming, but we are not made to see it. I was really in to what the film did with it’s use of ominous backing track, that Nick could hear it, that it felt like the progression of his illness, that it felt like a sense of impending doom, a cloud that hangs over Nick. 
Throughout a lot of this film I found myself thinking about The Inheritance Part One & Part Two, a play written in 2016 based off of the book Howard’s End by EM Forster. I saw this play a few years back and was lulled in to a false sense of security that this would not be a play about AIDS because it was set in the relatively modern day with a focus on younger queer characters, but ohhhhhhh how wrong I was. Towards the end of the first part, we hear a story from a character named Walter, an older gay man that lived in the same building as the main characters, and he recounts the story of his life, how his husband, Henry, built a farm outside of New York city for the two of them to live in…right around the time that AIDS started decimating the area. How that distance still was not good enough for Henry so he would leave on business trips, because his fear of catching AIDS was so strong. 
Walter tells the story of when he went back in to the city for the first time, and ran in to a friend he used to know, who had acquired AIDS and was on the brink of death. He talks about how when Henry was away, he brought that kid to the farm Henry had built to hide from AIDS, and Walter cared for that boy until he died. Walter talks about doing that again and again and again and again, dozens of times, he would go in to the city, bring a friend back home, and care for them until they passed. 
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^[sidebar: I very much do not like Robert]
Part of the play ends with Walter being asked what it was like at that time, Walter asks the main characters to name someone they know, they give a name, he says “they’re dead. Give me another name, he’s dead”. For what felt like minutes, name after name after name is called and name after name after name is dead. When I saw that scene I broke down in the theater, I cried for the entirety of the walk back to the train station, I was brought to the brink of tears at the thought of that scene for a month after I saw the show. 
I mention this because it was all that I could think about while watching Robert and Michael interact with one another, while seeing this plot unfold. Robert fleeing New York while Michael stayed to care for his dying friend. Knowing that Walter and Henry stayed together after all was said and done, after Henry had stopped running from reality, and the death rates had slowed; then seeing Robert decide not to go to Africa, and how Michael did not show any signs of planning to break up with Robert knowing, despite knowing how Robert felt too settled, how Robert had chosen to go, despite knowing that Robert was running from loss, and running from being a support for Michael when the love of his life finally dies. 
So despite the fact that Parting Glances didn’t evoke the same feelings, though I felt like overall it was a relatively upbeat, uptempo, gentle film, the current underneath it all, the dying underneath it all, the tragedy is right there but it is just out of reach. 
Favorite Scene 
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I think my favorite scene is when Joan and Michael are laying in bed together, holding stuffed animals at Robert’s going away party while they just casually talk about death and dying. It just felt very much like a conversation I have had with my best friend on multiple occasions, especially lately because we've had a number of deaths happen in our lives recently. And yes, my friend and I both match the type of conversation part this scene, and also the beating each other up with stuffed animals part of this scene.
Obviously we do not spend enough time with the other characters at the party to know exactly what is going on in their lives, and there is not doubt many if not all of them have lost loved ones to AIDS, but we know that Joan and Michael are really the only two people who go and visit Nick, and it feels so symbolic of the weight that they are shouldering caring for their dying friend to have the only two people who have not cut themselves off from Nick be sitting together, in another room away from all the other gay attendees, discussing, speculating, joking about death. 
Favorite Quote
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We all know the real right answer is: “Straight men are jerks. Gay men are jerks. Straight women are jerks. That leaves lesbians and they are off in their ivory towers laughing their heads off at the rest of us. I should’ve been a dyke” 
But I am going to go for the more serious:
“...look at the others, waiting, wondering if some innocent moment of pleasure long past can set them up with the ultimate form of [German word my subtitles did not state]...  I’d like to stage a piece in which all of the performers are people who are terminally ill, can you imagine the intensity, the concentration, the purpose”
This is said off-handedly in a conversation between Joan and a heterosexual male artist who was attending the party. I put it here for two reasons: a) the first half is a very succinct commentary on the state of the queer community (at least who were at the party) and feels like general commentary about the movie’s premise as a whole. Especially because Nick talks about how he didn’t realize how long the gestation period of HIV was, and by the time he started taking protective measures it was already too late. b) because the second half is just the most pretentious, absolutely mindless, careless, and shitty thing to say to someone who is actively losing a friend to a terminal illness. This fucking hetero artist came in to a room full of queer people and decided that dying people would be great to put in to his next project for ~The Vibes~ and I love that comment so much because first, it shows how much he Does Not Get It, and second because of how much disgust is baked in to Joan’s “Excuse me” as she leaves before he can finish his thought. 
Because to say that to someone who is watching loved one after loved one after loved one die before their eyes is an absolutely disgusting thing to do (in my opinion). 
Final Score
8/10
Up next, Philadelphia (1993)
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art-the-f-up · 3 months
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"freedom is too much to ask for, you're supposed to be silent and accept the way you're treated."
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mookquartet · 9 months
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Happy last day of Pride from trans Chekov and the rest of the silly gay people on the USS Enterprise :-)
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aceghosts · 3 months
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All I Know is a Place Where I Haunted
Summary: After saving President Rosalind Myers and delivering her to Reed, Rooney tries to deal with everything they've seen. But it's all too much to bear. Title comes from Spiritbox's Jaded. Rating: Mature Warnings: References to unnamed character deaths. Survivor's Guilt. Also, references to injuries (mainly cuts and bruises). Lastly, I wanna give a warning that Rooney is not in a good mental space, like 'I clearly don't care whether I live or die' kind of mental space, and thus, may be triggering for readers. Please use discretion. As always, if I need to tag for anything else, please let me know. Words: 4,438 words. Author's Note: This is an AU for what I consider Rooney's canon as I normally don't consider it canon for them to have the Relic in their head. But I had this idea for them and it wouldn't stop bothering me. So, now this fic exists. Also, if you have not played Phantom Liberty, this does contain spoilers for the beginning! Taglist (opt in/out): @bbrocklesnar, @marivenah, @voidika, @strangefable, @captmactavish, @carlosoliveiraa, @theelderhazelnut, @nightbloodbix, @fourlittleseedlings, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @clicheantagonist
AO3
Black Dog in my head, guiding me until the end…
Samurai blares over their radio as Rooney leaves Dogtown in the dust. Their hands grip the handle-bars tightly, knuckles white. Every inch of them hurts. Each movement-no matter how gentle or careful, sends a jolt of pain radiating through their body. Their head aches, a painful stab behind their right eye. Above all, Rooney is tired, so very, very tired. They feel sluggish, their limbs feeling like heavy weights are attached.
Even worse, they haven’t slept in over 24 hours. Last night as they hid in the Kress building with Myers, Rooney couldn’t sleep, no matter how much they wanted to. Every sound, every movement, every sight, no matter how real or imagined, sent adrenaline coursing through their veins. Their heartbeat would race, their body acting on finely tuned instincts to assess and fight. Every time, they would close their eyes, memories would haunt them. The crashing of Space Force One. Dead presidential staffers and Secret Service everywhere. The Chimera, the telltale glow of the red static from an AI beyond the Blackwall, staring Rooney and Myers down. It screams, a cursed, awful sound. Rooney’s throat tightens, a choked sob escaping from them.
The black motorcycle wobbles beneath them, Rooney swearing. They slow down, pulling over to the side of the road. Climbing off the bike, Rooney nearly falls to the ground, catching themself by their hands. Bits of gravel scrape at their palms. They ignore the pain, scrambling onto the sidewalk. Reaching the guard rail of the bridge, Rooney slides down until they’re in a sitting position, back against the rail. Behind them, the setting sun is a burning orange, stark against the faded sky. Sighing deeply, Rooney places their head in their hands. How much longer can they keep doing this? Keep moving along as the end goal is dragged further away? When will they be allowed to rest? Not be haunted by every terrible and awful thing they’ve seen?
Rooney closes their eyes, the Chimera there in their memories. The cable breaks, sliding out of their grasp as they hurtle towards the ground. Slamming on the ground on their back, Rooney gasps as the Chimera refocuses, raising a large paw to squish them like a bug. Rooney rolls out of the way, the Chimera narrowly missing them.  Above them both, the chandelier falls, sparking as it hits the ground. The Chimera and Rooney fall, knocking against each other as they descend into the blackness. They feel weightless, almost like they’re falling with the Chimera again. Rooney’s heart starts to pound loudly in their ears, mouth dry. Their limbs feel numb, adrenaline kicking their senses into overdrive. They’re falling, they’re falling they’refalling!
“ROONEY!” Gasping, their eyes open wide as they jump slightly. Johnny kneels in front of them, sunglasses in hand as he watches them, concerned.  Taking a panicked breath, Rooney’s eyes scan for any threats, for the Chimera. A few seconds later, they realize they’re in Night City with Johnny, and the adrenaline fades, leaving them with a bone-aching weariness. Tears burn in the corner of their eyes as Johnny speaks, “Shepard, you alright? Scared me there for a minute.”
“Yeah,” They force the words out, their throat tight, “Just remembering.”
Johnny softens, knowing a thing or two about reliving awful memories. “We should get you to that Ripperdoc friend of yours.”
Vik. They should; So Mi’s hacking of the Relic could have messed with their implants, especially the experimental Arasaka ones. Rooney’s holo rings, a familiar icon in the upper left corner.  “Don’t fucking answer that,” Johnny commands.
Rooney answers it anyway. They’re not going to ignore his call, and Rooney needs to get it together. No more of this pity party. Reed, So Mi, Dogtown, Night City, Myers, NUSA, and everyone else are counting on them. Roone will rest when they are dead. Wiping the corner of their eyes, Rooney composes themself as they answer, “What’s the situation?”
“Rooney!” Yorinobu’s eyes widen as he takes in their face with a concerned look on his face. “I could not reach you, and I worried you might be injured. Where are you? I will send someone to-.”
“I’m fine.” Rooney needs to be better than fine; they have to be. But fine is an acceptable state of being for now. “What do you need me to do?” They push themself to their feet, stifling a painful groan as their body protests. Johnny shakes his head, exasperated by their stubbornness. A frequent occurrence.
Yorinobu is silent, his gaze scrutinizing them. “Meet me at Konpeki Plaza as soon as possible.”
“Don’t. Get your ass to Vik’s,” Johnny says, flipping a finger toward Yorinobu.
“Understood. I’ll head there now.” Swinging their leg over the motorcycle, it roars to life beneath them.
Johnny shakes his head. “Fucking pathetic. ‘Saka Jr. says fucking jump, and you say how fucking high.” He glitches out of existence, saving Rooney the dignity of having to answer him.
“Rooney,” Yorinobu pauses, still watching them, “Be careful.”
“I will.” It’s a lie; Rooney has never been careful with their own life.
The elevator dings, opening up to the Tavernier Suite. The penthouse is gorgeous, offering one of the best views in Night City. Stepping into the suite, Rooney squares their shoulders, pretending they’re anything but exhausted. As they found the corner into the main area, Smasher and Yorinobu stop talking, looking away from the holopad between them. Smasher laughs, grating on Rooney’s nerves as he catches sight of them. Yorinobu’s brow furrows, looking more concerned than he did on the phone. “Fuck, Shepard. You look worse than fucking roadkill,” Smasher teases.
“Thanks for the compliment,” Rooney replies sarcastically, glaring at Smasher.
Smasher rolls his eyes while Yorinobu simply states, “You are limping.”
“I’m not.” Embarrassment floods Rooney as they realize Yorinobu is right. Trying to even out their gait, Rooney places weight on their left leg, pain shooting up from their hip as they stiffen. They bite down on their lip, trying not to whimper in pain. Rooney continues slowly towards Smasher and Yorinobu, purposely not limping. Well, at least, trying not to.
Yorinobu and Smasher exchange glances before Smasher sighs in annoyance. “I’ll get the fucking Doctor,” he grumbles, his loud stomping sending waves of anxiety through them, too reminiscent of the Chimera. As he passes Rooney, the two lock eyes, and Smasher scoffs, clearly thinking them pathetic. And the worst part? He’s right.
Making their way over, Rooney leans against the expensive dining table. “So, what’s happening? What can I-?”
“Where were you? I could not reach your holo.”
They suspected So Mi probably jammed their holo, making it difficult for Hansen and the Barghest to find them. It also probably made it harder for anyone else trying to contact them. “Had a missing person’s case in Dogtown. Needed to go dark for a while.” Not an unbelievable excuse. Rooney occasionally had to go dark on cases, not wanting to alert anyone who might be involved.
“Did Kurt Hansen do this to you?” Yorinobu cuts straight to it, fear and anger in his eyes. He looks like he’s about ready to punch Hansen.
“No.” Even though Hansen sent the Barghest after Rooney and Myers, he hadn’t set the Chimera on them. Wasn’t So Mi’s fault either. Whatever had been in the Chimera was something else, something from beyond the Blackwall. A shudder runs up their spine at the thought of it. “The thing that did this to me is dead.”
His shoulders drop, relaxing slightly as he motions for them to sit in the already pulled-out chair. Rooney sits, trying not to wince as pain radiates through them. “I do not doubt that anyone who intends to harm you would not leave with their life, Rooney. But-,” He emphasizes the word, “I do not think you are telling me the full story.”
Johnny finally makes his presence known again, glitching into a pulled-out chair on the other side of the table. Kicking his legs up onto the table and drumming his fingers, Johnny warns, “You can’t fucking tell, ‘Saka Jr., Shepard. What the fuck do you think ‘Saka is gonna do when they find out about Songbird?”
He has a point. Rooney trusts Yorinobu, baring the vulnerable parts of themself to him that no one else would be allowed to see.  But they can’t trust the rest of Arasaka. And even if Rooney wanted to tell him, which they did, anything they say about Myers and So Mi could put Yorinobu in danger. And they won’t put Yorinobu in harm’s way. “Not much to tell. Just your standard missing person’s case that got a little rough. But I ended up finding the person alive and well. A happy ending.” Might have been a happy ending in Myers’ case. But for everyone else, it was a failure. So Mi was missing and most of the civilian passengers on Space Force One ended up dead. They should have been able to do more.
Yorinobu reaches out, his right hand cupping their face. His thumb lightly traces their cheek as Rooney leans into his hand, nuzzling his palm. In the reflection of his glasses, Rooney notices how awful they look. Their bottom lip is busted, a deep cut running through it. Another long cut runs through their eyebrow, red and inflamed. Dark circles sit underneath their eyes, making Rooney look like they’ve been punched in both eyes. And they look pale, paler than normal, which is a feat in itself. No wonder Yorinobu seemed troubled. “What is the name of your missing person?”
Out of the corner of their eye, Johnny shakes his head, and Rooney wonders if Yorinobu already knows. There is no way Arasaka Intelligence wouldn’t have heard about Space Force One, of all things, crashing into Dogtown under mysterious circumstances. And Yorinobu knows Rooney is drawn to trouble, always willing to put themself in harm’s way.  But they’re still not willing to put him in the middle of this. “Just a local-.”
The elevator opens, cutting Rooney off as Smasher enters first. They wince at his loud footsteps, aggravating their headache. Dr. Katō, one of the few Arasaka employees that Rooney is somewhat friendly with, follows behind Smasher. “Shepard!” Dr. Katō calls, a knowing look on his face. “Found trouble again, I-,” He stops, catching sight of Yorinobu’s dark expression, “Arasaka-sama, I-.”
“Examine them now.” Yorinobu releases their face, stepping back to allow Dr. Katō to do his work.
“Yes.” Dr. Katō bows, now slightly nervous as he approaches Rooney. He starts his examination, his cyberware scanning for any broken bones or internal wounds. Rooney assumes there isn’t anything too serious. Otherwise, they might already be dead. As he finishes scanning, Dr. Katō suggests, “I would suggest that you have one of my colleagues run diagnostics on your implants for issues. I also wish you would allow me to run medical diagnostics on you.”
“No!” Rooney and Johnny both say at the same time, the same panicked look on both faces. The last thing Rooney needs to happen today is for Arasaka to find out they have the Relic in their head. And they really don’t want to have that conversation with Yorinobu. Rooney swallows as Yorinobu looks at them suspiciously. “You know how I feel about Arasaka doctors. No offense, Dr. Katō. I’ll have my local ripper check them later.”
Yorinobu sighs, shaking his head. “Would you like to give us the number of-?”
“No.” No way in hell they’re giving Vik’s number to Yorinobu. Rooney is pretty sure Vik would have an aneurysm if a bunch of Arasaka Corpos showed up on the front doorstep of his clinic.  Plus, Rooney doesn’t want to burden him with any more than they already have. He’s done so much for them. “My implants are okay. I have not noticed anything off about them.”
“I still highly recommend you have one of my colleagues examine you, but I’ll respect your decision,” Dr. Katō states as he begins to work on the cut on their eyebrow, “Any specific places bothering you, Shepard?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Yorinobu and Smasher both answer. Yorinobu clarifies, “Rooney is favoring their left side; they were limping when they arrived.”
Dr. Katō nods. “I’ll take a look after I finish with their face.” He tends to the other cut on their lip, silence permeating the room. Rooney glances toward Johnny, nervous energy radiating off him like a trapped wild animal. He’s never liked it here, and he especially doesn’t like it when Yorinobu or Smasher is around. Johnny’s learned to deal with Yorinobu, but Smasher still brings up a swirl of complicated feelings. Fear. Anger. Pain. All of it flows through them, leaving a nervous pit in Rooney’s stomach. “Do you mind taking off your shirt, Shepard? I’d like to take a look,” glancing nervously between Smasher and Yorinobu, Dr Katō gently suggests, “Perhaps you two should leave-.”
“I’m going,” Smasher grumbles, while Yorinobu stays. As soon as Smasher is gone, Dr. Katō looks toward Rooney.
“Yorinobu can stay.” They’re okay with Yorinobu here; Rooney doubts he would leave anyway.
Dr. Katō nods, gently helping Rooney out of their black and blue trenchcoat. He helps them pull off the turtleneck next as Rooney tries not to wince in pain. Yorinobu gasps, and Rooney looks down. A large, nasty, purplish-blue bruise covers the left side of their torso disappearing below the waist of their pants and farther down. Several other bruises cover them, leaving Rooney’s freckled skin a splatter painting of bruises. “How did this happen?” Dr. Katō asks as Yorinobu crosses his arms, looking even more troubled.  
“I fell.”
“Fell? How far did you fall, Shepard?”
They shrug, ignoring the pain that jolts through them. “Not sure. Might have been a few flights.”
Dr. Katō pales as Yorinobu shakes his head. “You’re very lucky to have escaped with no major injuries.” Rooney knows how lucky they are. Most would have died in their position. Most would have died going through some of the shit they went through. Rooney even already died once. But death was a luxury they would not be afforded. They had already been snatched from Death’s jaws once by Arasaka. What would stop it from happening again? “I am recommending bed rest, Shepard. At least, for a few days. I’ll also have some pain medication delivered to you.”
“No.” Dr. Katō looks shocked at their cold tone while Yorinobu narrows his eyes. “I’ll take the pain pills, but I need to be back on my feet.”
“Shepard,” Dr. Katō starts very gently, placing a hand on their shoulder, “You need to rest. Your body needs to rest. Otherwise, you risk injuring yourself further.”
Johnny shakes his head in the corner of their eye. “Can’t believe I’m ‘bout to agree with a fucking ‘Saka employee, but he’s right, Shepard. You look like you’re almost fucking dead.”
Even Yorinobu gets in on it. “Rooney, Dr. Katō is correct. You must rest. You are welcome to stay here, or I can drive you back to your apart-.”
“STOP!” Frustration overwhelms them. Why won’t anyone listen? So Mi and Reed are counting on Rooney; so many people are counting on Rooney. Rest is a luxury afforded to others, but never to Rooney. They need to keep moving; They have to keep moving. Shrugging off Dr. Katō’s hand, Rooney stands, biting back a groan as they get up, unsteady on their feet. “I don’t need to rest; I’ll be fine.”
“Fine? Fine?!” Yorinobu exclaims in disbelief, Rooney clenching their fist. “You can barely stand! If you were ‘fine’, you would not limp. You need to rest, please.”
“The limp will go away in a little bit. It’s not that big-.”
“Do not finish your sentence.” He softens a little, allowing Rooney to glimpse how exhausted and fearful he was for them. “Take this seriously. Please.”
“I am,” Rooney insists, knowing they are taking this deeply seriously. Why can’t everyone else see that?
“Are you?” Rooney’s armor starts to crack a little as they stare into Yorinobu’s eyes. Weariness comes over them, and Rooney pushes it away, trying to stay focused. “If you are, listen to Dr. Katō.”
“I am, I promise,” Rooney feels their throat tighten like they’re about to cry, “But I can’t rest. Not now.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t tell him a fucking thing, Shepard,” Johnny cuts in again. “Just get the fuck out of here and get to Vik.”
“I-,” Rooney struggles for a second, trying not to make sure they don’t reveal too much, “People depend on me, Yorinobu. I cannot let them down. If I stop, I fail them. And if I fail them, then what use am I to anyone?” Rooney has already failed people before, the ghosts of the past holding onto them, dragging Rooney down. They won’t fail anyone, not again. “I’ll rest when this is all over.”
Yorinobu takes their face in his hands, wiping away the tears from their eyes, the ones they didn’t know were already starting to fall. “Rooney, you will not fail anyone, especially if you rest for a few days. And your value is not determined on how useful you are to others.”
Fuck, they’re gonna cry. Swallowing down the lump in their throat, Rooney takes a deep breath. “You can’t know that.”
“I do.” He sounds so sure, his arrogance bleeding over.
“And how would you know that?” Anger tinges their voice as they answer sharply.
“I would not think that of you. And anyone who does, simply would have never think you succeeded in the first place.” Rooney’s walls break. The tears start slipping out faster, as they shake, taking in a weepy breath. Yorinobu lets go of their face, pulling Rooney into his arms as they let out a small whimper. They bury their face in the expensive silk fabric of his shirt, unable to compose themself any longer. Rooney sobs into his chest, fingers gripping the back of his shirt tightly.  Yorinobu rubs comforting circles on their back, holding Rooney up as they cry. God, they’re tired. Just so exhausted.
After a while, their sobbing starts to soften, their grip less tight on Yorinobu. “Come. You should rest.” Rooney nods, allowing Yorinobu to shepherd them to the bedroom. As they walk towards his bed, they realize Johnny and Dr. Katō are gone. Johnny probably left because it was getting too emotionally intense for him. But at the thought of Dr. Katō, shame washes over them. Rooney should have been more com-. “He does not think less of you,” Yorinobu comforts, already knowing where their thoughts are headed, “Dr. Katō is worried about you as we all are.”
“Thank you.”
“No need,” Yorinobu shakes his head, bringing them to the bedroom, “Do you need help changing into something more comfortable?” Rooney nods, too tired to even pick out clothes for themself. He pulls out a pair of pajama pants and one of his t-shirts for them. He is so gentle with them, nearly sending them into tears again. Rooney feels so loved yet unworthy. Yorinobu shouldn’t have to do this for them. Rooney should be capable of something as simple as this.
Drawing the covers back, Yorinobu ushers Rooney into bed. They climb into bed, heading over to the other side. A part of Rooney wants to ask him to stay, to hold them as they fall asleep. But that would be selfish, and he’s already done so much for them. Instead, they turn away, trying not to want more than they are given. Like they always have. The bed dips on the other side, Yorinobu sitting on it. They hear him take off his shoes before getting underneath the covers with them. He pulls Rooney close to him, his chest against their back as he wraps an arm around their waist. He feels so warm and comforting pressed against Rooney as they allow themself to relax. Placing a kiss on the bare skin of their shoulder where his t-shirt has slipped away, he softly speaks, “Sleep, Rooney. Please rest.”
“I love you.” The words slip out of their mouth. Rooney does, they really fucking do. If Yorinobu asked the world of them, Rooney would gladly give it to him. Again and again.
He places another kiss on their shoulder, replying, “I love you too.” Those words ring in Rooney’s head as they fall asleep, Yorinobu nuzzling into their neck.
When Rooney awakes, they are alone in bed, muscles and joints aching. Even blinking feels like a herculean effort as they push the sleep out of their eyes. The dying rays of sunlight stream into the bedroom, infusing it with a golden glow. It makes the room look heavenly; it already feels heavenly. Grunting, Rooney pushes themself up, ignoring the protest from their muscles. By the time they’re sitting up, Rooney is out of breath, panting from the exertion. “Did you sleep well?” They look over, finding Yorinobu leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Rooney hadn’t heard him come in.
“Yeah,” their voice sounds rough from sleep, “How long was I out?”
“Over 24 hours,” Yorinobu answers, pushing himself off the wall and taking his hands out of his pockets. He walks over to the bed, sitting down beside Rooney. Yorinobu brushes a stray strand of dark red hair from their face, his fingers featherlight on their skin. “You needed it. You still need more.”
Rooney blanches, pulling up their holo. No missed calls or texts from Reed, but that doesn’t mean Rooney can stay in bed any longer. Reed could call at any moment. "I have to-.” As they try to get out of bed, Yorinobu places a hand on their shoulder, pulling them back gently. Rooney doesn’t fight back, too exhausted. Every movement feels like they’re making a trek up Mount Everest. “I have a case to work on.”
“Would that have anything to do with Space Force One?” Their eyes widen, swallowing nervously. Yorinobu looks triumphant. “I knew it.”
“How?”
“It is all over the news, and you were very…,” He pauses for a moment, perhaps trying to find better wording than ‘fucking stubborn’, “persistent about this case.” Fair enough. This one had more stakes, more chances for other people to get caught in the middle. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Rooney shakes their head. “I can’t discuss this one with you. Trust me, the more you know puts you in danger.”
“And it is acceptable for you to put yourself in danger?”
“I’ve fought the NUSA and worked with them after the Unification War. I know what they’re capable of.” They let out a sigh. “Thanks for the sleep, but-.”
“No,” Yorinobu shakes his head, his hand gripping their shoulder firmly, “If you plan to put yourself in danger on our behalf, promise me you will rest for one more night.”
“Yorinobu, I-,” Rooney falters, the genuinely concerned look on his face getting to them, “One more night, but tomorrow, I’m up and back at it.”
“I would never expect anything less,” Releasing their shoulder, he takes their hand in his, “Do you really think you have let anyone down?”
Rooney looks down at their hand tightly intertwined in his. “I do. I let everyone down who didn’t make it off Space Force One. I refuse to let anyone else get hurt. Not as long as I breathe.”
“You worry me when you say that, Rooney.” They know they do. Even if Yorinobu doesn’t say it, Rooney knows that there is always the possibility that the next case might be their last, and they think it scares Yorinobu that he might be powerless to stop it. Rooney looks up at him as Yorinobu reaches out, gently tracing the edge of their face. “You did not fail anyone, Rooney. The person who shot down Space Force One is responsible, not you.”
“I know, but if I was faster, I might have-.”
“Rooney, you cannot blame yourself. You cannot save everyone.”  They know. Rooney knows they can’t save everyone, but they have to try. They can’t just give up. Sighing, Yorinobu decides to let the matter go. “Would you like a cup of tea? I even have your favorite.”
“That sounds nice,” They say, thinking a cup of tea sounds wonderful, “Maybe a shower afterwards too. I feel a little gross.”   
“Good, I can even help you with the shower too,” He teases as Rooney rolls their eyes, before placing a soft kiss on their lips, “I will make your cup now.”
As Yorinobu leaves the bedroom, a familiar figure glitches onto the edge of the bed to their right. “Ask ‘Saka Jr for some vodka instead. I need to block out the mental image of you two eying each other like a bunch of horny teenagers.”
Oh Johnny, truly a wordsmith. They shake their head, a faint smile on their lips. ‘Glad to see you too, Silverhand’, Rooney thinks. A moment later and perhaps a touch more fondly, they add, ‘I mean it. I really thought I might have lost you, and it terrified me’.
Johnny sighs, but he looks away, clearly touched by their words. “Stop being so sentimental,” He grumbles, with no real bark or bite. He adds a moment later. “Missed you too, Shepard.”
‘We’re going to get So Mi back. I promise.’
“You think she’s telling the truth?”
‘No,’ Rooney thinks, and Johnny looks a little surprised, ‘I know when people are hiding things from me, Johnny, and she is hiding something. But I really think she needs our help. Besides, I have a feeling Myers is up to something worse, and we’ll stop her.’
He gives them a real grin. “Now, you’re speaking my language, Shepard. Just wish you had some of that when it came to ‘Saka Jr.”
They roll their eyes as Johnny lets out a laugh. For now, they were here safe with Yorinobu and Johnny, but tomorrow, the real challenge would begin. 
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loreleilarai · 1 year
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A gift for @baconlyswiss
She saw it on discord but anyway
I want to kiss and hug the snake boys so badly, and the closest way to do that is with drawings.
(Click on the image for better quality)
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Get someone to look at you like Sun when you talk about what you like.... Well, you've already found him actually.
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Moon caught a mouse that was hanging around her cave, he doesn't really play with her prey, but you are a special case.
Can we talk about how beautiful the designs are? While drawing I had fun making the patterns, and they are not even difficult, it took little time and I loved the result. I also got better at drawing snakes slightly while I was doing this lol. Playing with the lights of a sunlit treetop and a dark cave also amused me.
I told myself to post this about 6 times today, and 5 I forgot to do it. I have the attention span of a fish.
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