#lmk if you /would/ prefer me to use read mores

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 I LAUGH LIKE ME AGAIN (SHE LAUGHS LIKE YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: four years apart and the ultimate question is about to be answered: do you and dazai really still know each other, or are you clinging to a fantasy of the past? you decide to put it to the test with a game of wits and questions when dazai gets back to your apartment—but as the game drags on, dazai starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. worse, if maybe he would prefer to be wrong.

(wordcount: 14.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, smoking & drinking, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing, im rushing to get this out!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys here it IS - sorry it's late, but TRUST it's worth it. i'm so proud of this fic, genuinely one of the things im most proud of writing. this is technically a part 2 to he's my collar but can be read as a standalone

It takes far too long for Dazai to make it out of the Port Mafia headquarters, with both Akutagawa and Chuuya prowling about like the dogs they are. He wonders if you tipped either of them off—Chuuya, in particular—because the slug had been looking around like he was searching for someone. He thinks you’re entirely wretched for it, knowing that if he got caught, he’d be trapped in that damp and filthy torture chamber until he managed to finagle his way out, and he plans to make it known to you just how entirely displeased he is by the situation. 

The path to your apartment is achingly familiar, and the giddiness in his chest is something he hasn’t felt since the day he left. He knows that he should probably be more careful—he’s still in Port Mafia territory, your apartment spans the top floor of the easternmost building of the five towers—but he also knows that you’re the only one with direct access to the cameras in this building so he’s more reckless than he would’ve otherwise been. 

The floors tick up agonizingly slowly, Dazai swears that there must be something wrong with the elevator because it’s never taken this long before to get up to your place. His fingers thrum against his thigh, and his foot taps the ground impatiently. He paces from corner to corner within the small space like a caged animal. He thinks that maybe he should be taking advantage of the time alone, come up with some better excuses as to why he didn’t say anything to you before he left.

“I wouldn’t have left,” isn’t going to cut it. As true as it might be, it’s not the full truth, and Dazai knows you’ll be able to sniff it out in a matter of a few seconds with a clear head. He’s not walking into a cheerful reunion between old lovers, he’s walking into what’s about to be a stressful game of chess against a strategist whom Dazai has always considered a near-equal, a battle of wits against a woman whose whole life has revolved around political warfare. If he wants to keep his dignity intact and his secrets safe, he’s going to have to be incredibly cautious with what he says to you and even with how he reacts to what you say to him.

Still, he can’t help the giddiness. The excitement. He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much that it hurts. He’d thought that over time, the longing for you would go away, but it never did. If anything, it got worse because, over time, the pictures of you started to lack the soothing feeling they used to bring to the aching in his chest. Over time, he started to forget the sound of your voice and the sound of your laugh.

He’d known that you’d been sent away on foreign business not long after his last call to you, but he didn’t think Mori would actually keep you abroad for three whole years. He’d been hoping, maybe, that he could stumble into you one day. Or maybe just watch from afar, get close enough to hear the sound of your voice again. He’s been grossly denied of you for too long, and he knows that it’s of his own doing but that only makes it worse.

When the elevator dings, announcing his arrival on your floor, Dazai is sorely unprepared for the conversation about to take place. He steps into your penthouse, eyes drifting around the familiar vast space.

Like your office, not much has changed since the last time he was here. Your coffee table is still set down a few centimeters too close to the couch in the living room—the same couch he had his first kiss on with you when the two of you were sixteen and drunk on champagne celebrating a successful mission. You still hang your black jacket over a chair instead of properly on a hanger, it’s why it always has a crease on the back—he’d noticed it when you left your office, and he can’t help but smile slightly at the confirmation as his eyes linger on where it’s draped over one of your kitchen chairs. 

You tried to convince him that you’ve changed in the years the two of you have been apart, but Dazai doesn’t think you’ve changed much at all.

You’re leaning against the windows, looking down on the city—he knows you must’ve heard the elevator, but you haven’t bothered to look his way yet. There’s an indecipherable expression on your face and a glass of wine in your hand. You’re still dressed in your suit and Dazai notices there’s a glass of whiskey on the rocks untouched on the kitchen table. He shrugs off his trench coat and drapes it over yours, hoping that the scent of you seeps into it because he’s gone too long without it.

His fingers curl around the glass of whiskey you’d left out for him, and for a moment, he swears that he’s eighteen again. He’s making his way to your penthouse after a long mission with Chuuya, you’re expecting him—you always are—and he can never push away the fondness that squeezes his chest when he finds you lounging back on your couch, flipping through channels to find something to watch, a glass of his favorite whiskey set down on the coffee table next to where your feet are propped up as you wait for him to show up.

He wonders if you even care to remember what his favorite is. He wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

He makes his way out of the kitchen and back into the living room, and he’s reminded that he’s not eighteen and you’re not waiting for him to show up after a mission because you finally look at him, and his breath catches in his throat.

He thinks you look a bit older now than you did four years ago—to be expected, of course—and there’s a coldness to your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Impossibly, he thinks that you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were when he last saw you, and he realizes again, throat tightening, that even after three years of no contact with you, he’s just as in love with you now as he was the day he left.

He knew it back then before he left, even if he never said it. When he was eighteen and could only feel any inkling of pleasure when he was with you; it wasn’t like he’d never tried to have sex with other people, he’d whore himself out for information at any given chance and slept around frequently after you started dating a civilian to distract himself from the bitter jealousy he felt, but he’d never known how good it was supposed to feel until he slept with you for the first time. When he was seventeen and could only ever feel comfortable in your presence, seeking you out at any given chance when he couldn’t handle being around people anymore; he’d curl up in your office with your orange blanket, napping as you did work, knowing that you’d keep people away from him. He thinks he might’ve even known when he was sixteen when the two of you first met on the streets of the Kanagawa prefecture.

He wonders if you even believed him when he said it earlier—he doubts it, you don’t seem too keen to believe anything he says, and he doesn’t blame you for it. 

But whether you believe it or not, it’s yours—that rotted heart of his, shriveled and shabby, riddled with holes and decay, half-eaten by maggots and worms it might be, but it’s still yours. He thinks that it was meant to be yours since the moment he was born, and it’ll be yours even after the two of you are long dead. He doesn’t know how he’s meant to go without you again—he doesn’t think he can. He knows that despite the tentative ceasefire, the Port Mafia and the Agency are still enemies, but he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to leave you again. Even just the sight of you has condemned him completely. 

Then you speak, and at once, his entire world falls apart.

“I’m leaving again in the morning,” you finally say, tone flat and eyes sharp and shrewd as you look over him. He reminds himself that this is not a reunion, that he needs to get his head on straight if he wants to make it out of your apartment in one piece, but it’s hard. “I was only brought back to smooth things over with the government after the whole fiasco with Fitzgerald and his American cronies. I’ll be leaving for Russia in the morning to meet with Tolstoy and Nabakov. Hopefully, gain some intel on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s plans before the man makes another move on the city.”

He… did not anticipate that you’d be leaving again so soon. Something cold and sharp latches to his heart, like jagged nails ripping it apart. He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face.

“Be careful,” he tells you quietly. “Dostoevsky… he’s not someone to underestimate. Just-Just be careful.”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, “I’ve worked with Dostoevsky before. I don’t need you to warn me about him.” 

Your voice is cool. Sharp. Dazai sighs, knowing that anything he might’ve said to you earlier in the night is lost to you, and he doesn’t know if he’ll have it in him to bare his heart again, only for you to scorn it. He’s not meeting with you as he knows you—as his closest friend, as his lover; he’s meeting with you as the Port Mafia executive. Not the version of you that treats with allies, wining and dining them with glittering eyes and playful smiles as you use your ability to ensure they never turn on the Port Mafia; the version of you that sits at the round table with enemies, with a quick mind and calculating eyes as you decide whether or not they’re worthy of being absorbed into the Port Mafia or if Double Black will be sent out to eradicate them. 

“I told you everything I had to say back at the office,” Dazai tries, and he wonders if you’ll let him get away with it—he doubts it, but it’s worth a shot, and it will at least stall for a few moments as he tries to forcibly turn the cogs in his mind to figure out the best way of appeasing you. “I missed you. I… couldn’t say goodbye to you, not if I was to leave. I…”

I love you.

He doesn’t say it; he thinks he was only able to push it out earlier in the night in the heat of the moment, the orgasm-induced haze fogging his brain enough to let it slip out in desperation to make you give him a chance. And it worked because you gave him a second chance when you invited him back to your apartment, but Dazai doesn’t know how to make the most of the opportunity. He thinks he’s a fool for not preparing for this before getting here.

You click your tongue sharply, lip curling up in something close to disgust, and Dazai is glad he didn’t speak his ‘I love you’ because he thinks he might’ve actually cried if that was your reaction to him saying it.

“The only things you told me earlier in the night were half-truths and sweet talk. I didn’t invite you back to my apartment to hear you beg for another chance, Dazai,” you say coolly, and Dazai desperately misses the sound of his given name on your tongue. The corner of your lip curves up into a half-smirk, eyes suddenly glittering beneath the dim lighting of your penthouse as you add, “Although, I wouldn’t be opposed to it after we talk.”

He thinks the fact that you’re already considering an after might be a good sign. He can feel his cheeks flush a bit at your words, but instead of letting himself get rattled, he takes a step forward, well into your personal space, as he dips his face down so close to yours that his lips nearly brush yours as he speaks.

“I’d beg pretty for you,” he whispers, letting his voice drop an octave as his gaze tracks down to your lips. “I’d even get on my knees.”

Unfortunately, you are entirely unbothered by the proposition. “We’ll see, I suppose,” you say, and then raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to take a step back.

He does, and he feels distinctly put out and rejected by your reaction, but he sighs and asks, “What did you invite me here for then?” 

He very much does not like the way your eyes glitter now—shrewd this time, more amused, dangerous, as if you know the two of you are about to tread down territory that he’s going to be unfamiliar with. You nod for him to follow you into the kitchen, taking a seat at the head of the table and motioning for him to sit opposite you.

He does.

“We can play a game,” you finally concede. Dazai settles back against his chair, fingers still tapping rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, a terrible habit that Dazai has accrued whenever he feels cornered. Not a frequent occurrence, but damning when it is. Your eyes linger on them, and he knows you’ve pinpointed the tell. He forces himself to stop, but from the way your lips curl up, he can tell it doesn’t matter. “Ten questions each. Yes or no answers only.”

Dazai notices that you pointedly leave out any rule about the honesty of each answer—intentional, surely, so he probes.

“How do we determine the winner?” Dazai asks. He finally takes a sip of the fine whiskey you’d poured for him, and his question from earlier is answered. His favorite. There’s a warm feeling in his chest at the realization that you’ve remembered it even after all of these years.

Your lips curve up into a sharper and wider smile, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the soft lighting of your kitchen. The glass of wine in your hands is suddenly more reminiscent of a gun being pointed at him than your choice of alcohol, and he feels as if he’s already made some egregious mistake in your eyes.

“After we give our answer, the other has to decide whether or not it was truthful. In the end, we’ll both see how many the other got right. A test to see how well we still know each other,” is all you say in response. You’re mocking him and his insistence that the two of you are still the same, but Dazai intends to prove himself right. You tilt your head to the side and then say, “The prize is to be determined by the winner. I’ll ask the first question.”

Dazai winks, a lecherous comment already on his tongue about the prize, but the withering look you give him is more than enough to make it die before he can let it loose. He pointedly takes another sip of his drink and sinks in his seat.

He thinks that this should be an easy win. You’re quite the adept liar, but you’ve always had a glaring tell. Well, he amends, it’s glaring to him, at least. Not many others would be observant enough to catch it, and even if they were, only someone with an abundance of experience with you would be able to put it together. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, wondering if your lashes flutter right before you tell a lie. It’s such a simple and subtle tell, so casual that it took Dazai a year and a half to put together, but it was hard to miss once he did.

You hum to yourself as you give off the appearance of thinking about a question, but Dazai knows you better than anyone, and he’s certain that you already have all ten prepared, so he rolls his eyes at the faux show of uncertainty. 

“We both know you know what you want to ask,” he finally says. “Do us both a favor and quit with the theatrics.”

Your lip quirks up in amusement. “And here I was being gracious giving you more time to formulate whatever lies you’ll try to get away with,” you drawl, and Dazai nearly flinches.

“You know me so well,” Dazai sighs to hide how disconcerted he really is. “The question?”

You stare at him for a moment, and your lips curl up into a deceptively soft smile that almost throws Dazai off because, god, he’s missed you. And he knows you’re looking at him like this just for this specific reason because you’re a despicable bitch who knows that he’s always been easily unsettled when people show any semblance of affection toward him, but he can’t help the way he falters.

He tries to brace himself for whatever invasive question you’re about to ask regarding his reasons for leaving. Tries to prepare himself to lie cleanly because he’s sure you’re as aware of his tells as he is of yours. 

Then you ask: 

“Did you defect because of something Oda asked of you?”

Jesus. Right for the throat. You really don’t pull punches. 

Dazai’s throat tightens at the mention of his old friend, but he’s able to keep his expression clear of the sudden pain that your question brings on. You’re watching him carefully for reactions, gaze hawklike as you study his face, and Dazai is not about to let you pinpoint any more of his tells so early in the game.

He figures that this is an easy question; you already know the answer but want to hear the confirmation from his lips, so he decides to tell the truth.

“Yes.”

“The truth,” you say, an indecipherable expression on your face. He wonders if you want to ask what Odasaku asked of him, but that’s not part of the game and Dazai has no intention of answering that.

Be on the side that saves people. If both are the same to you, become a good man.

You might laugh in his face—Dazai Osamu, the Demon Prodigy, a good man? The idea is blasphemous, and he thinks it might actually hurt him if you scoff or laugh in response to hearing that, so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t give away more than he has to, hoping that you don’t just straight up ask him.

You open your lips to speak, and Dazai braces himself for the prying question, but instead, you only probe, “First question?”

He wonders if your whole first question and the implications of it was just a means of trying to throw him off because now he’s fumbling trying to remember what he wanted to ask you before you hit him with it. He wouldn’t put it past you to play dirty like that—bringing up his dead friend and his last request just to unsettle him to give you the edge.

“Did we meet during my underground years after I defected?” he finally asks, and yeah, he knows the answer to this question. The missing half of his ear and waking up in the old safe house he used to hide out at with you is more than enough evidence for him to come to a definite conclusion, but he wants to hear it from you.

“Yes.”

Dazai inhales sharply and then murmurs, “That’s the truth.” And then, more loudly and far more affronted, he accuses, “I can’t believe you shot half of my ear off.”

He expects you to toss him a wink and a sharp grin, unrepentant and even finding amusement in his offense, but instead, your expression falters for the first time since he’s arrived. Something strange crosses your face; for whatever reason, his words leave you conflicted and Dazai suddenly feels even more nervous than he already was because now he can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said to you in his drunken state. 

He supposes that’ll have to be another question, but first, he’s going to have to figure out how to phrase it to get a yes or no answer first, without being vague enough for it to be a waste of a question or easy for you to misconstrue.

You hum after a few moments, taking a pointed sip of your wine. Dazai watches curiously—you’re bothered still, you’re not even trying to hide it. He knows you have better control over your facial expressions than this, so he thinks maybe it’s a ploy to get him to start spiraling down a path of useless questions. Put off by his sudden inability to discern your schemes, a part of him wonders if maybe you were right because the him of four years ago would’ve seen right through you right now.

“I’m afraid it had to be done,” you sigh with faux regret, but he can tell from the way the smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes that you’re not into the banter. “Were you able to fulfill Oda’s request?” 

Fuck. This time Dazai can’t withhold the grimace that spreads across his face. He tries to keep his voice light with a deflecting comment, “My, bella, you’re really hitting with the deep questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side as you wait for an answer, not giving him any room to formulate a response to your question. He finally sighs and shakes his head, taking a long sip of his whiskey. He wishes he had a pack of cigarettes on him, suddenly desperately longing for the pleasant burn of the smoke against his throat; he needs the buzz badly right now.

As if you could read his mind, you shift in your seat a bit and stuff your hand into the pocket of your slacks. It takes a few seconds but you fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, sliding them across the table over to him. If he wasn’t already so in his head over the question you asked, he’d make a quip over the fact that you still know him so well despite your insistence otherwise, but he only pulls out a cigarette and lights it, looking curiously down at the familiar brand.

“Since when did you start smoking these?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his head back and takes a long drag of it. He exhales slowly and then adds, “Thought you liked the other ones, in the green box.”

“Teal,” you correct, and then frown a bit. “... Switched after you left.”

Dazai’s eyes flutter back open as his gaze focuses on you, wondering if the implication you left up in the air is something he can take at face value or if it’s just another way of trying to get him to lower his guard. But from the way you suddenly don’t meet his eyes, Dazai thinks you might be being honest: you switched because they reminded you of him.

Dazai’s chest suddenly feels heavy again.

“... No,” he finally responds to your second question. “Not yet, at least.”

“... Truth,” you say, and Dazai’s lips curl into a wry smile.

“Unfortunately.” The word slips out before he can stop it.

Your gaze flickers back up to him, curious, but Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to dwell on his comment, asking his next question: “Did I… admit anything to you that night that I wouldn’t have said while sober?”

His fingers tap rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, half-empty now; he’s anxious to hear your response.

“You did,” you confirm.

Dazai grimaces because that’s another truth, and that is not good. But just like how he doesn’t offer any context for his answers, you don’t either. He doesn’t know what he might’ve admitted or how you might’ve taken it—he’s going to have to waste another question on this topic.

“Truth,” he murmurs.

You hum and then ask, “Do you still blame yourself for what happened to him?”

“Come on,” Dazai complains sharply, tossing you a dirty look now. His jaw is tight. He wonders if you keep asking about Oda as some sort of sick revenge for him leaving, ripping open wounds that never properly healed so you can dig your fingers into them and twist around. You don’t look bothered by his outburst, waiting patiently for a response. He lets out an angry sigh, looking away and taking another long drink from his glass and another drag of his cigarette. 

He voices his first lie, “No.”

You let out a puff of air, rising to your feet and making your way over to the opposite counter, you grab the bottle of whiskey and bring it back over to him, topping off his now-empty glass before pointedly holding out your hand. He passes the cigarette over to you, tilting his head back to watch you bring it to your lips—a part of him longs to lean forward, to slide his hand behind your neck and cradle your head as he brings his lips to yours, inhaling the smoke as you exhale it, dizzy off the proximity to you, high off the buzz of the nicotine, just like the two of you would do when before he left.

He refrains, if only barely.

You exhale the smoke, a small cloud billowing around you—Dazai mourns the waste—and then you pass the cigarette back over to him. Your fingers brush his as you do, and a spark shoots through his arm at the touch.

“A lie,” you finally say, looking down at him with a frown. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done to save him.”

“You don’t know that,” Dazai says tightly, averting his gaze from you as you make your way back over to your seat across from him. “If I’d been faster-”

“If Mori wants someone dead, then they’ll die,” you interrupt him, a grimace on your face as you look down at your wine glass. “Trust me, Dazai, there was no saving Oda Sakunosuke.”

Dazai pauses instead of snapping again, catching the expression on your face. Haunted, as if you’re speaking from experience. He tilts his head to the side and then asks quietly, “Are you talking about your ex-partner? Itou?”

If Dazai remembers correctly, he died on a mission when you were seventeen. You never told him the circumstances, and he never asked, but it was the first and only time you ever broke down in front of him.

The corner of your lips tightens, “Is that your next question?”

Dazai barely withholds a frustrated sigh. 

“No,” he says quietly, and then asks, “Did I tell you why I couldn’t say goodbye? The real reason?”

He holds his breath now as he waits for your response. One way or another, this question is a double blade: if he did tell you why, then he’s at another disadvantage because he’s going to feel distinctly bare and vulnerable; if he didn’t tell you, he just admitted that he lied back at your office, at least partially. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally say, “Yes.”

The truth. Dazai wonders when you’re going to utter your first lie, if you will, or if you’re trying to make some sort of point by being honest with him. He voices his answer and then waits impatiently for your next question as his mind races.

He desperately wants to know how you responded to him back then. Would you have come with him had he come to you before he left? Or would you have chosen the Port Mafia? He wonders if he should ask, make it one of his remaining seven questions, but he doesn’t know if he has the guts to hear your answer, so maybe he’ll just change the subject.

“Are you enjoying yourself at the Agency?”

For the life of him, Dazai cannot figure out your angle. First, the prying questions about Oda and now asking about the Agency. He doesn’t know what he expected at the start of the game—you’ve always been unpredictable, but even more so now. He’s never had such a hard time reading you or your intentions before.

He starts to feel even more doubtful, wondering if you were right.

Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does anymore.

But this is an easy question, so he says the truth with little hesitation, “I am.”

Dazai swears the corners of your lips curl up into a soft smile, but it’s gone so quickly that he might’ve imagined it.

“Good,” you say quietly. “I’m glad.”

Dazai’s lips part, a warm feeling spreads through his chest at the honesty in your tone. Desperately, he wants to know what’s going on—where’s the rage and the betrayal he expected from you? The hate? Why do you seem… okay with all of this?

Irrationally, he starts to wonder if everything from the office was just a heat-of-the-moment conversation. If now that you’ve had time to sit on your thoughts, you’ve realized… realized what? That you’ve moved on from him? That you don’t care what he does anymore? That you’ve accepted that he’s no longer a part of your life? The warmth in his chest disappears, edged away by a sudden coldness and desperation because he thinks he’d rather die than go back to a life without you.

Even more irrationally, he remembers the comment you made back at the office, the admission that you’ve slept around since he left. Oh god, what if you really have moved on?

He knows his next question.

“The people you slept with—were they all one-night stands?”

He doesn’t want to know the answer unless it’s a yes.

You raise your eyebrows at the abrupt shift in his line of questioning, and then, to his absolute horror, you say, truthfully, “No.”

“What do you mean no?” he asks angrily—he thinks if he was a bird, he’d be puffing his chest out in irritation. He feels antsy suddenly, he needs to move around. He starts tapping his foot against the floor, his fingers against the glass. And again, he thinks you’re a despicable bitch because you only look amused at his question as if he’s not beside himself with righteous fury.

“It’s not your turn,” is all you respond with, and Dazai has a distinct urge to throttle you. Then you ask, “Do you feel like you belong there?”

He halts.

His fingers freeze from where they’re tapping against the glass, his foot freezes mid-motion. His lips part as he’s confronted with the very question that he’s been struggling with for two years now. He wants to yes, if only to maybe be a little spiteful, to rub in your face that he’s somewhere good and he’s somewhere where he belongs, and it’s not somewhere with you. A cruel dig to get back for the aching in his chest at the thought of you being with other people, but he knows that you’ll catch the lie, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to hurt you like that.

Maybe he has grown a bit because the Dazai of four years ago nearly killed your civilian boyfriend when he found out that you were dating someone besides him and then promptly made a show of sleeping around to try to get back at you.

So, instead, he says quite honestly, “I don’t know.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Not a yes or no answer, but I suppose it works. How curious.”

He hates your cryptic comments. Pointedly, he side-eyes you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. Already, it’s nearly down to the nub, so he puts it out on your table, ignoring the distasteful look you give him, and then reaches for another to light as he asks: “Were you in a relationship with any of them?” 

You roll your eyes at his prying, and he cannot hide the abject horror that crosses his face when you say, “Yes.”

“That better be a lie,” he complains, and when you look at him as if to ask if that’s really his guess, he makes a show of pushing out his bottom lip and looking away as he says: “I cannot believe you dated other people. Cheater.”

“We were never even dating, Daz-”

“Yes, we were,” Dazai protests instantly, entirely aghast at your words. “We absolutely were. What does that even mean? Of course, we were dating. Everybody knew it. Ask anybody. Ane-san knew. Gin-chan knew. Chuuya knew. Even Mori knew. We were so dating, you-”

“You never officially asked me to be your girlfriend, which is, unfortunately, the most fundamental step of dating,” you interrupt him, and Dazai stares at you in disbelief.

“I bought you flowers, we fucked exclusively,” Dazai complains, aggrieved. “We were definitely dating, and you definitely cheated on me because we never broke up.”

“If we were dating,” you emphasize the if very pointedly, and Dazai is distinctly put out by it, “then we broke up the day you left without saying goodbye.”

Dazai withers. He has no witty comment to return fire with, so instead, he just takes another sip of his whiskey, grateful for the combined buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine to distract him from the overwhelming guilt he feels whenever you bring up how he left you.

“Do you feel like you belong more with the Agency than you did with the Port Mafia?” 

Your next question is an amendment to your previous on, and it leaves Dazai just as lost.

He wants to belong with the Agency. He does. Desperately. He wants more than anything to feel as at home and comfortable in the light as he does in the dark. He doesn’t want to question his place among them anymore, he doesn’t want to wonder if he sticks out like a sore thumb. He wants to enter the office and feel like he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not, just so he can keep his place with them. He doesn’t want to have to fear at every corner that he’s going to revert to old habits, and they’ll see him for the monster that he is: a monster that should have never left the dark crevices that he crawled out from, a monster with blood so black that it strikes fear in even the most terrible mafiosos.

“No,” he admits the insecurity that’s plagued him to the one person he feels comfortable enough with to voice it aloud. He can’t bring himself to look up at you, wondering if the admission will give you some sort of sick satisfaction, if you’ll be happy that he’s not finding a place he can be comfortable in without you. Instead, he decides to rush to ask his next question: “The one you were in a relationship with, did you love him?”

He thinks that the question came across as far more timid than he meant it to be, and his eyes slide shut as he waits for your answer.

“There were multiple I had relationships with—” Dazai scoffs, of course, there were multiple. “—...but no, I did not.”

He lets out a soft puff of air, shoulders slumping a bit in relief. But his fingers are still tense around his glass, waiting for whatever question you’re going to ask next that’s going to dig deep into open wounds, stripping him of all of his masks and armor to force him to lay himself entirely bare in front of you.

“Did you really blow up Chuuya’s car before you left?”

His eyes fly open at the sudden change of pace in your questions, noting the smirk curling at the corner of your lips and the amusement glinting in your eyes. He accepts the olive branch quickly as he gives you a sharp smile and asks: “What do you think?” 

Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle a laugh, and the smile on Dazai’s lips becomes a bit softer as he watches you desperately try to get yourself under control. “You’re insane, you know that?” you finally say, still trying to bite back giggles. “He was so mad. Raged about it for weeks.”

Another question pops into Dazai’s head at the mention of Chuuya, and before he can consider whether or not he actually wants to know the answer to it, he asks: “Speaking of Chuuya, was he one of your trysts while I was gone?”

Suddenly, you are not laughing, and suddenly, Dazai regrets speaking.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Do not tell me-”

“He was,” you confirm.

Dazai’s glass of whiskey is empty. 

He grabs the bottle and drinks right from it, miserable.

“I think I would’ve rather been stabbed through the heart,” Dazai says mournfully, and though he keeps a faux-light tone with you, his throat feels like it’s swollen, and he feels a bit sick to his stomach.

He’s always been jealous of the bond you have with Chuuya. Absurdly jealous, even. You clicked with him quickly—you clicked with both of them quickly, and maybe it was a matter of the three of you being the youngest of the Port Mafia’s uppermost echelon, but Dazai doesn’t want to attribute it solely to that—but the way you clicked with Chuuya was different from how you clicked with Dazai. Two people so completely human locked away in the dark, clinging to one another to maintain some sense of normalcy; your and his casual humanity made Dazai’s lack of it irrefutable and glaring.

Regardless of the why, he never liked how close you were with Chuuya. 

Even before you were dating him—because you were dating him—a part of him had always felt sidelined whenever the three of you hung out together. Not because of either of your wrongdoings but just because it was hard for him to keep up with the two of you. He always felt a bit lost trying to, unable to follow along when the two of you would start laughing at jokes that he didn’t understand even when you explained them to him, when you would share glances with one another that spoke whole conversations he wasn’t privy to. The two of you got along in ways that Dazai would never be able to get along with anyone because there’s just something fundamentally wrong with him at his core. Chuuya, for all of his talk and fear regarding the question of his humanity, has always been so unfailingly human in ways that Dazai, to this day, cannot fathom to understand.

After you started dating him—because you were dating him—it only got worse because he’d see you with Chuuya and wonder if you were better off with someone like him instead. Dazai doesn’t know how to treat you right, clearly. He can’t even treat himself right; and Chuuya has always been the epitome of a gentleman, loathe Dazai is to admit it—Ane-san drilled that into the other boy where Mori only taught Dazai how to be cruel and unforgiving. The line between love and obsession has always been a terribly blurry one for him, and you have always wavered on either side of it—and Dazai, unfortunately, does not love healthily and obsesses so entirely that it would have most people running for the hills. 

For better or for worse, you’re not most people.

In his spiral of insecurity, he doesn’t catch the way your brows furrow as you put together some puzzle pieces. “Dazai,” you say suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts abruptly. There’s an accusatory look in your eyes that he really does not like. “Were you the one that booby-trapped my fucking apartment?”

Dazai snorts.

“You bastard,” you snap at him, and Dazai can’t help but bite the palm of his hand as a means of trying to stifle his laughter. “Mori thought it was a goddamn assassination attempt. He kept me under watch for weeks because of you. I couldn’t leave the towers without half of the Black Lizards with me.”

“Sorry,” he coos, not sorry at all. Dazai, because he clearly doesn’t know when to learn his lesson, then he promptly asks, “Am I better fuck than Chuuya?”

“Jesus Christ, Dazai, get off the topic of Chuuya and my sex life, it’s clearly only upsetting you,” you snap at him instead of answering the question. Dazai wants to argue and retain some dignity; he’s not upset, but then his entire world is shattered by your next words: “I am not answering this question.”

Dazai blanches. He can feel the blood drain from his face. He’d thought this was an easy question to make him feel a bit better. What do you mean you won’t answer? Does that mean Chuuya-

No. Dazai refuses to believe it.

 “No way,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s not a better fuck than me. You can’t possibly-”

“He’s not,” you finally say, and Dazai audibly lets out a sigh of relief. “But if you ever mention anything along the likes of that to him, you will never fuck me again, Dazai Osamu. Do you understand?”

Dazai is too relieved to even argue. “Yeah.”

“No more questions about my sex life,” you say firmly, and Dazai doesn’t respond, but he does agree internally because he doesn’t think his heart can handle any more scares like that. Your eyes sharpen again, and Dazai braces himself. “Were you the one to tell Mori I lied about being sick so I could skip out on the ball Mishima hosted when we were seventeen?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow right back at you and rather than answering, he shoots one of his own questions at you: “Were you the one to tell Mori I had his contact in my phone as ‘ignore’?”

You take his lack of an answer as an affirmative, correctly so. Dazai has no regrets about ratting you out to Mori because he was not about to attend Mishima’s event without you on his arm. He’d rather die. 

“You bastard, do you know the lengths I went to fake being sick? I wanted one night to relax without people breathing down my neck.”

“If I had to go, you had to go,” Dazai retorts petulantly. “I was not about to suffer with only Chuuya as company. You had no reason to tell Mori about the contact name besides to be petty. I fought with Chuuya for weeks because I thought he was the one to do it.”

You choke on a laugh. “Chuuya was so mad, he had no idea what you were talking about.”

“He tied me to a pole and swung me around for three hours,” Dazai complains, but there’s a smile on his lips as you burst into laughter, unable to stifle the giggles that spill from your lips.

“I know,” you wheeze, “I got it on video. We watch it sometimes when we’re bored and can’t find a movie.”

Dazai gapes, and you laugh harder, but for the first time in four years, Dazai finally feels… at home, he feels comfortable in his own skin again. He’s back in your penthouse, he’s drinking his favorite whiskey and smoking his favorite brand of cigarettes, you’re sitting at the kitchen table with him and laughing your head off at his expense, and for a moment, Dazai feels as if nothing has changed: he feels like himself again, eighteen and entirely enamored by the sight and sound of you, and you feel like you again, all of the doubt that had begun to rise to his chest as the two of you played the questions game long gone.

He falls in love with you all over again. Harder this time. Faster. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you again and again every day for the rest of your lives, each time more than the last, no matter how impossible it might seem.

He thinks maybe it’s not that he feels like he belongs with the Port Mafia more than the Agency. He thinks that it’s you. You’re the one he feels at home with. You’re the one he’s comfortable enough to be himself with. You’re the one he belongs with, always has, and always will.

After a few moments, you finally manage to get yourself under control, still giggling a bit as you look back up at him. Your smile is softer now, eyes gentle, more genuine than the smile you gave him before asking the first question. Dazai’s breath catches because when was the last time you looked at him like this—the last time anyone has looked at him like this? A warm feeling spreads through his chest; Dazai thinks he would stay in this moment forever if given the opportunity.

“Are you happy?” you ask quietly

Dazai blinks, startled, and an odd feeling spreads through his chest once your question registers. His lips part to answer, but no words leave them; he draws back as if he’s been slapped, a bit flustered and confused because that’s the furthest thing from what he expected you to ask. He wonders if you’d asked the last three questions to lull him into a false sense of security.

“I-” he starts to say but cuts himself off. “What kind of question is that?” 

He tries to deflect instead of properly answering, frowning, but you only raise your eyebrows, pointedly keeping your lips sealed to let him know that you expect an answer. He shakes his head and then sighs, bouncing the question in his head a few times before going for a cop-out: “When I’m with you? Always.”

You’re not pleased by his decision, frowning as you look away from him—he knows that’s not what you asked, not really, but you should have been clearer with your question if you wanted him to give you the answer you expected. But he doesn’t like the sudden disappointment on your face, it leaves his skin itchy and his chest longing for the soft look to return.

So he sits there, ruminating on the question. Is he happy? He should be, right? He’s saving people. He’s on the way to fulfilling Odasaku’s final request. He has a whole group of people whom he can rely on without having to fear being taken advantage of or betrayed at every corner. He’s happy.

But is he trying to convince himself of it? Why is he still trying to kill himself if he’s happy? Why is there a part of him that feels lonely no matter how surrounded he is by people? Why is it that when he’s at his lowest points, the only two people he wishes he could be with are you and Chuuya? Why does he ache for the days he’d spend dragging the two of you around Yokohama, causing trouble for Mori—the closest he’s ever felt to enjoying life?

“I don’t know,” he finally amends his answer, looking down at the bottle in front of him and the cinders of the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He lifts it to his lips again, taking one last drag of it as he tries to figure out what his last question should be.

There’s only one pressing question he has left, but he hesitates, unsure if he really wants to know your answer.

He forces it out anyway.

“Would you… would you have come with me back then?” His voice is quieter than he intended, cracks over ‘me’, and to your credit, you don’t react to the question, expression as eerily still as it was before, as if you’re considering your words.

A yes or no. It shouldn’t take this long for you to answer. Each second that passes feels like an eternity, and Dazai suddenly feels anxious, he doesn’t know why he asked this question because if the answer is no—if it’s no, then…

Finally, you let you a soft sigh, taking a sip of your wine as if to prolong his agony.

Your lashes flutter before you speak.

You lie for the first time that night.

“Yes.”

Dazai’s voice sounds far away as he says, “That’s a lie.”

“I guess you were right,” you say softly, but you sound so distant, like you’re on the opposite side of a long, empty tunnel and not sitting right in front of him. “We do still know each other decently well; you got them all right.”

Dazai doesn’t care. In fact, he would have gladly conceded a loss in this game, and he would’ve gladly admitted that maybe the two of you don’t know each other as well as you used to if it meant that he got the last question wrong because then he would’ve just given you a coy expression and asked if you’d let him get to know this new version of you too. You would’ve said yes, and he would’ve made quite the pleasurable night out of it for the two of you. Instead, he had to insist that nothing has changed, and now he has to come to terms with the fact that he was right and he had known you well enough back then to know not to ask you to leave with him because you would have chosen the Mafia over him. 

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice you approaching him until you’re leaning on the table next to him, index and middle finger coming beneath his chin to tilt his face up toward you. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes searching your face, but he only finds another blank slate that he can’t read. His breath hitches when your hand slides from his chin to cup his cheek, and he can’t help the way that he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“I would choose you over so many things, Osamu.” You speak his given name for the first time in years, but he can hardly find any comfort in it because he knows he’s not going to like what you’re about to say. Your fingers card through the tips of his hair, brushing the dark locks behind his ear as your thumb sweeps over his cheekbone. “But not over the Port Mafia. Just like how you didn’t choose to stay for me.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s-”

“It is,” you interrupt, voice deceptively gentle, and he thinks you’re entirely unfair because he can hardly focus with your touch distracting him. He’s missed it so much—he’s gone four years without it, without any type of touch that wasn’t him getting his shit kicked in by Kunikida or an enemy. “You didn’t choose to stay for me. I wouldn’t have chosen to leave for you.”

“Why?” Dazai asks tightly, and he hates that when his jaw tenses, you smooth your fingers over it, and he unclenches it immediately.

There’s a sadder look in your eye now as you give him a small smile. “You know why.”

Of course, he knows why. He feels the hatred deep in his gut as his mind draws back to Mori. Because that’s who the issue is. It’s not the Port Mafia. It’s not your friendship with Kouyou. It’s not even your friendship with Chuuya that’s the issue. It’s Mori and your undying loyalty to him. No matter how much you claim to despise him, bashing him every chance you get, sneering at him whenever he tries to treat you like his daughter, Dazai knows that when it comes down to it, you’ll always choose him. You’d throw yourself on a sword if he asked it of you, and not for the first time, Dazai wants to spit in the man’s face for making you feel as if you’re eternally indebted to him for rescuing you from that warzone so many years ago; for making you feel as if you’re nothing without the Mafia, nothing without him.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Dazai says tightly. “You have to know that by now—you don’t owe him anything.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation, Dazai,” you sigh, sounding tired. Your hand drops from his face, and Dazai longs for your touch again instantly. His fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his lap; he only barely stops himself from reaching out for you. You try to smile as you change the subject, but it hardly meets your eyes, “It’s a tie then. No prize for either of us, hm?”

Dazai is not so inclined to switch the subject. He wants to press on this now that he has the chance; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to rip you out from beneath Mori’s thumb, but he needs to at least try… but you’re leaving again in the morning, and Dazai also does not want to ruin this night with you. He doesn’t know when he’ll get another.

So, instead, he matches your half-assed smile as he looks up at you and says, “I didn’t say you got them all right. You only said that I got them all right.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did I get any wrong?” you ask, amused.

No.

“Yes.”

“Liar,” you say, but there’s a fond lilt to your tone as you let out another puff of air, the smile on your face finally reaching your eyes as you look down at him. The soft lighting of your kitchen casts a pretty glow over your face, your smile is so entrancing that Dazai thinks he could stare at it forever.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, the words slipping from his lips before he can stop them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He’s sure he must look like a fool right now, entirely enamored by the sight of you, unable to even fathom drawing his gaze away. He wonders if you’ll protest again, call him a liar, and shift away from him.

You don’t.

The smile on your lips falls, and a wrecked expression crosses your face as your eyes search his. Your lips part to speak, and he waits with bated breath for whatever you’re about to say—he thinks that if you deny him again right now, it might completely shatter all of the walls he’d so carefully built to protect himself.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper as if you’re scared to speak the words out loud—and how can he blame you when the last time you dared to speak them, he hung up on you, never hearing from him again until tonight.

God, the guilt he feels whenever he thinks of you returns with a vengeance, so intense that Dazai starts to feel sick to his stomach. He can’t handle it, so he does the only thing he knows how to do to distract himself from it.

His movements are clumsy as he pushes himself up to his feet, nearly tripping over the leg of his chair, and his fingers feel clunky as he lifts them up to cup your cheeks. For a second, he fears that you might move away from him, but you don’t, so he leans in to press his lips against yours.

There’s no tenderness to his kiss. Dazai kisses you like he wants to consume you, lips sliding messily against yours, blunt nails indent crescents into your cheeks as he holds you close. Usually, he would be embarrassed by his blatant desperation and lack of finesse—he’s never been a sloppy kisser, when the two of you were younger, you would always let out pleased hums into his mouth, lashes fluttering as he worked his lips carefully against yours, tongue sliding against your own as he traces his name on it. 

All of his finely honed skill is thrown out the window now as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for years. He has been starved for years—the quick fuck in your office did nothing to quell the longing he’s felt for you the past four years. He could kiss you for hours. Days, even, and it still won’t be enough. Nothing short of an eternity with you would be enough to make up for the four years he’s been deprived of you.

He lets out a low groan into your mouth as you nip at his bottom lip, hands sliding from your face down to your hips. He’d take you here. Right now. But he remembers the last time he tried to fuck you on your kitchen table, it ended with him choking on the barrel of your gun as you yelled at him for being gross (“I eat on this table, you heathen!”) and he’s not particularly in the mood to set off your temper now that he finally has you in his arms again, so it’s with much restraint that he grabs you by the hips to walk you back into your bedroom.

He can hardly concentrate as your fingers twist the hair at the nape of his neck, soft moans slipping from his lips, muffled against your mouth. It’s only sheer instinct and muscle memory that has him making his way from the kitchen and down the hall. He can’t bring himself to separate his lips from yours for even a second. And he’s a mess because he’s not coherent enough to force himself to breathe properly through his nose, so his lungs are burning and his head feels a bit light, but he doesn’t care so long as it means he can keep kissing you.

Turn left, turn right, second door from the end of the hall. 

His fingers fumble for the knob of your bedroom door, pushing it open a bit too hard, considering the way he hears it slam against the wall and how you tug his hair hard in retaliation. He doesn’t care, moans a bit louder even when your nails scrape his stinging scalp, and you let out a derisive noise against his lips before biting down hard enough to draw blood.

The taste of iron makes a slow smile curl at his lips, walking you back toward the bed, and it’s only when your knees hit the edge that you finally pull away from him. “If you broke my door, you’re fixing it, Osamu.”

Dazai’s smile is lecherous. “I’m gonna break something alright,” he croons, relishing in the way you immediately roll your eyes at him. It’s all so familiar—he can almost pretend that he never left, that nothing has changed since the two of you were eighteen, dumb, reckless, and in love.

Before he can press you back against the bed, he feels your fingers drop from around his neck to his waistband, curling around his belt loops. In an instant, you’ve twisted the both of you around, and suddenly, it’s the back of Dazai’s knees pressed against the edge of the bed as you push him down onto the mattress. He hits the sheets with an ‘oof’ and a hazy smile, surrounded by the scent of you, drowning in the sight of you. He thinks he might be in heaven. 

You shift on top of him, straddling his waist; Dazai’s hands instantly come to rest on your thighs, sliding up the sides to grab your ass and pull you more firmly onto him. He groans when he feels you grind down against his cock, and god, he’s already hard just from kissing you. He hears you snort above him, but Dazai doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

His lips part in a silent moan as you lean down to ghost kisses along his jaw, hands sliding up his chest. He feels you wrap your fingers around his bolo tie and tug it, you let out a sharp noise of distaste against his skin before murmuring: “I hate this ugly thing.”

He lets out a huff of laughter that quickly breaks off into a moan when your lips trail to the spot behind his ear that always makes him writhe. His fingers bite into your hips, pushing you down on him as he rocks his hips up into you—shit, he might be able to cum just from this. His cock is straining painfully against his beige pants, twitching as he grinds up against your clothed cunt. He thinks maybe if he fucks his hips upward a few more times, he might be able to push himself over the edge, but as desperate as he is to chase his release, he refuses to cum anywhere but inside of you.

Plus, he thinks he’ll be shamed to hell and back if he finishes in his pants with you hardly touching him. 

“Then strip me out of it,” he gasps, lashes fluttering as your teeth graze his pulse point right above the edge of his bandages. Fuck, he’d give anything for you to bite down—riddle him with marks he can’t cover so he can flaunt them off to everyone who looks at him. Dazai knows that there are countless men and women out there who’d die to be able to be called yours, he wants them to know he’s the only one who can take that honor. “What’re you waiting for?” 

You hum and then sit back on his hips—he bites his bottom lip raw as you unintentionally put even more pressure on his cock. He’s half dazed out, not realizing that your grip tightened on his bolo tie until you straight up yank it off of him, snapping the string around his neck.

“No!” he complains, watching with wide eyes and parted lips as you fling the now-broken bolo tie off to the side of your room. “Noooo, why’d you do that? I’m going to have to order a new one.”

“Boo-hoo,” you say dryly, hardly paying attention to him as your fingers curl around the hem of his vest, pulling it up over his head, snorting when he lets out a puff of irritation as his nose gets caught around the collar. 

“This is so unsexy,” he protests, rubbing his nose. “Shouldn’t you be more gentle?” 

“Stop wearing so many layers of clothes,” you retort, but Dazai is placated when you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips, lashes fluttering as his eyes slide shut. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss down his jaw, nimble fingers unbuttoning his final layer of clothing. He wishes he wore an undershirt just to watch you huff in annoyance. His breath catches as you nip at his skin and then murmur, “This better?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice wavering as you get down to the last button of his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and easing him out of it. His body shudders as your hands slide over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. Fuck, it’s been so long since anyone’s touched him beneath his clothes, even with the bandages still acting as a layer between the two of you, his nerves are on end, sensitive to everywhere your fingers touch.

He wonders if you’ll pull off the bandages—it’s a line that the two of you only crossed once back then, and although the idea of it has him brimming with anxiety, he longs for the feeling of your skin flush to his.

He almost feels a bit embarrassed when you sit back again to admire him as if there’s not a scar-ridden body hidden beneath the bandages. You look at him like he’s beautiful, like he’s not a monster disguised as a man, like he’s human. Dazai has always felt distinctly seen beneath your stare like you can see through all of the masks he wears and see him for him, and that has not changed over the past four years.

He’s missed the comfort of it. He has. It used to unnerve him back then, thinking someone could see him so clearly when he tried so hard and so carefully to hide himself beneath layers of impenetrable masks, but after going four years alone, with no one for him to turn to, no one he could look at and have them just know what he’s thinking… 

Yosano once mentioned offhandedly that to be loved is to be seen, and Dazai thinks the only time he’s ever been seen—truly seen, down to his core, deep in his soul—is when he’s with you.

It was a very lonely four years without you.

“I thought about you every day,” Dazai tells you softly, the grip on your hips easing up as he looks up at you. “Made a list of places I wanted to bring you and then burned it because I never thought I’d get the chance to be with you again. Stared at old pictures of you all the time, couldn’t sleep without thinking about memories with you. Drank your favorite wine just so I could pretend I was tasting it off your lips.”

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek, and Dazai leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. He kisses your palm, humming softly when your thumb runs along his bottom lip.

“There wasn’t a single day I went without you crossing my mind,” you admit quietly and Dazai’s breath hitches as he stares up at you, dark eyes wide and lips parted. He thinks he should say something, anything really, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t seem to mind, luckily, because you only lean down to brush your lips against his again.

This kiss is softer than the last, lips trembling against yours as your tongue dances along his inner lip. He thinks his cheeks might feel wet but he doesn’t dare acknowledge it; you don’t either, only using your thumbs to brush away the tears as they spill over his cheeks.

“Are you really leaving again in the morning?” he finally asks, and he hates that his voice cracks over the words.

You hum in agreement, still hovering over him, still running your thumbs along his cheekbone. His lashes droop shut, but he forces them back open as you speak. “I am. Bright and early. Flight leaves at six.”

His gaze flickers to the left, over to where your alarm clock is set up on your nightstand. 

12:35

He looks back at you, eyes swimming with desperation.

You give him a soft, wry smile. “We should make the most of the night then, hm?”

He doesn’t waste any time on that.

His grip on your hip tightens, and in one swift motion, he flips the two of you around, elbows resting on the mattress on either side of your head as he hovers above you. Your eyes glitter as you give him a coy smile, and again, Dazai falls in love.

Then, he ruins the moment.

“Tell me how you fucked Chuuya.”

Your smile drops. “Osamu, what the fuck?”

“Tell me,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek and peppering soft kisses on your cheek and down your neck. His knees drop to the bed on either side of your hips, holding up his weight as he reaches down to unbutton your slacks, sliding them off your body. A smile flickers onto his lips as his fingers graze your panties—drenched, finally, evidence that he’s not the only one so affected by this. “Tell me. Were you on top? Did he take you from behind? Was he rough? No, it’s Chuuya-”

“If you care so much about how Chuuya fucks, Osamu, how about you go fuck him yourself?” you interrupt him.

Dazai gags.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he says and then returns to his mission, fumbling with his own pants now as he tries to yank them and his briefs off, unable to hold back the relieved sigh when he finally frees his cock, unceremoniously tossing them to the floor. “Tell me.” 

“Why do you care so much, hm?” you ask, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I told you that you were better.”

You’re only trying to deflect from the question and he almost lets you succeed, partially placated, but he stays strong, leveling an unrelenting stare onto you as he waits for your answer. You sigh heavily, and he knows he’s won.

“Not rough,” you say as if Dazai hasn’t already come to that conclusion. Chuuya’s had a crush on you since the three of you were sixteen. Dazai assumed he had grown out of it, but evidently, he was wrong, considering he took the opportunity to sleep with Dazai’s girlfriend—because you were his girlfriend—the moment Dazai was out of the picture. What a little snake. Dazai needs to vandalize his apartment again. Maybe set up a few more bombs. He’s only drawn back from his mental spiral when you start talking again: “He took the lead. Wanted to see my face the whole time, make sure I was okay.”

“How gentlemanly of him,” Dazai says—he’s not bitter. He’s not.

“It was,” you agree, too genuinely.

Dazai squints at you hard. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You asked.”

“You don’t need to sound so wistful.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Osamu, I’m not wistful.”

“How-”

“Are we going to talk about Nakahara Chuuya all night, or are you going to fuck me?” you interrupt immediately, looking increasingly incensed. Dazai only raises his chin at you pointedly—you’re the one that slept with Chuuya. “Time is dwindling, Osamu.”

Okay. 

Dazai’s gaze flickers back to the clock and then back down to you, withering a bit under your irritated stare. He sighs and leans back over you to kiss the corner of your lips, fingers curling around the hem of your panties to slide them off your legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his kisses linger against your skin now as he drags his lips down to your jaw. “The thought of him being with you…”

It makes Dazai want to do terrible things. The part of him that he locked up deep within rattles at the bars of its cage, furious and bloodthirsty. The trigger finger he’s been so careful to tame twitches with a desire he hasn’t felt in four years. The thought of anyone being with you makes Dazai sick to his stomach—Dazai is the only one who should get to see you like this, be with you like this—but the thought of Chuuya being with you is so much worse.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Osamu,” you tell him quietly, fingers intertwining with his hair as he nips at your neck. “No matter how much I slept around, nothing was ever able to fill the hole losing you left. Not even Chuuya.”

Dazai exhales, shaky—the guilt returns, and so does the doubt because what right does he have sitting here being petty about what you did while he was gone when he was the one who left you behind without so much as a word? His eyes flutter shut, he spares a few more chaste kisses across your throat before lifting his face back to yours, kissing you gently.

“Let me make up for lost time then,” he says softly.

He doesn’t hesitate now, one hand dropping down to your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist as he presses his hips into you. His breath shudders when his cock slips against your folds, a low moan spilling from his lips. He has to reach down to angle himself properly, tip pressing against your tight hole.

The fingers of his free hands are shaky as he lifts them to cup your cheek. “Look at me,” he says, heat spreading through his abdomen when he realizes you already can hardly hold your eyes open, quick breaths escaping your lips as you try to keep yourself from cumming already. “Look at me, I want to see you.”

Your eyes flutter open, lidded and heavy as you look up at him, and Dazai thinks that maybe he could cum just from the expression on your face alone, inhaling sharply as his thumb drags across your bottom lip. He thinks maybe he should try to get ahold of himself, fearing that if he pushes inside of you now, he might cum on the spot, but his cock is aching so badly that Dazai thinks he might die if he doesn’t feel your heat around him immediately.

It takes all of his strength to keep his eyes from sliding shut as he pushes inside of you, desperate to see the way your face twists and your breath catches. Your lips tremble, chest rising and falling rapidly, he can feel your thighs tightening around his waist, and Dazai groans when your heels dig into his lower back, forcing his hips flush to you, burying his cock deep in your cunt. He chokes, grip on your thigh bruising; his abdomen tightens, and his head feels light.

No way, he thinks, gritting his teeth as he tries to hold back the waves of pleasure threatening to tear through him. He hears you let out a huff of laughter beneath him, and Dazai would shut you up with a sharp thrust of your hips, but he’s still desperately trying to regain control over himself, so he thinks that’s maybe not the best idea.

His forehead drops to rest on the pillow next to your head, lips brushing your ear as he lets out a low moan. He can’t even savor the way you let out a full-body shudder, fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. Fuck, you’re so tight—Dazai can feel your walls tightening around him, spasming, his breath is shaky, and he tries to distract himself by pressing his lips to your skin, mouthing messily at your skin, sucking and nipping and counting to ten as he tries to settle down.

But it’s hard with the soft sighs you’re letting out, the way your fingers catch on his tousled hair, tugging enough to make his scalp sting. His head is so fogged that he can hardly think straight—god, he’s missed this, he hasn’t had the comfort of letting himself go like this in… since he left, really. His mind is always turning, plotting out ten, twenty, thirty steps in advance in fear of making a mistake, slipping up and letting the rest of the Agency see him for what he is, slipping up and their lives being the price just like with Odasaku. It’s only with you that’s ever comfortable enough to finally let the cogs in his brain slow and shatter, lose himself in carnal pleasures, lose himself in you; it’s been four years since he’s last had a reprieve from his own brain.

But he only lets himself slip halfway—tonight isn’t going to be about him, it’s about you. He has four years to make up for and he intends on getting a good start on it tonight.

He pants quietly as he lifts his head enough to bite your earlobe, tugging it gently before pressing his lips to your temple. “I’ve missed this,” he admits, voice raspy and clogged thick with emotion. “I’ve-”

He can hardly get the words out, and his breath catches when your hands slide from behind his head to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. He thinks he must look wrecked—he can already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he knows his eyes are probably glazed over. You still look stunning, a soft expression on your face as you look up at him as if he’s not buried to the hilt inside of you. 

Unfair, he thinks mournfully. 

“What're you still holding onto, hm?” you ask, and Dazai only barely registers your words, sinking into your touch as you brush matted hair out of his eyes. He can finally bring himself to roll his hips—experimental, slow, trying to make sure he can actually move before trying to fuck you. Then you sigh softly, and he’s too out of it to try to make out the expression on your face as you say: “You work yourself so hard… always have. I’ve got you, you can let go, Dazai. C’mon.”

“No,” he hums, but his voice is strained, evidence of his struggle. “Tonight’s about my favorite girl.”

“Favorite?” you tease, lifting your shoulders off the bed to ghost a kiss against his lips that nearly has his hips stuttering—the conversation so reminiscent of one that the two of you had at seventeen it almost makes him smile.

“Only,” he amends quietly, kissing your nose, then the corner of your lips, and then nipping your jawline.

Just when he thinks he’s good to actually start picking up the pace, intent on fucking the thoughts out of you until you forget about your stupid flight in the morning, he catches a suspicious expression on your face, one that has his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks dubiously; your eyes are glittering in a way that he knows from experience is dangerous. 

You don’t say anything, just look pointedly at your thighs, then up to his shoulders. Dazai tilts his head to the side, recognizing what you want, and after a moment’s hesitation, he slides your legs up above his shoulders, folding them to your chest, eyes nearly rolling back at the new angle. Fuck, his hips do stutter this time, breath hitching. He has to readjust again, mentally focus on not cumming on the spot, and then-

And then you say: “He had my legs like this.”

A trick. 

Dazai knows it. 

You’re trying to make him let go of the thin thread of self-control he still has. To give in. To let all of the gears in his brain finally fall apart for the first time in four years.

He knows it.

He falls for it anyway.

Dazai’s jaw tightens, gaze snapping down to you only to catch a goading look in your eyes, a sly smile on your lips that Dazai has every intention of fucking right off your face. He inhales sharply, one hand sliding up your body to grab your chin, blunt nails digging a bit too deeply into your cheeks.

“Yeah?” he says, voice rough. 

Your lashes flutter and lips part as Dazai pointedly jerks his hips up. Your breath catches over a moan, and Dazai knows that this new angle is affecting you just as much as it is him.

“Mhm,” you agree, and just like that, the thin thread snaps.

He snaps his hips into you so hard that your bedframe bangs loudly against the wall behind it, quickly setting a steady pace, nice and deep, quick enough that you can’t even get a breath of air to your lungs before Dazai is fucking it right out of you. Already, he’s so fucked out that his mind is in shambles, one hand settling on your hip to hold you in place as he thrusts his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot with each stroke while his other hand, still cupping your face, slides down to your neck.

He doesn’t squeeze—wouldn’t dare to cut off the pretty noises spilling from your lips, moans of his names, choked gasps and cries between each rock of his hips—but the fact that you trust him, him, enough to have his fingers wrapped around your throat is always a quick way make him topple over the edge.

His eyes dart down to your chest, realizing, very unfortunately, that you haven’t taken off your button-up yet. He nearly bites down on his tongue in frustration as his hand comes down to your chest, careful to keep the pace of his hips as he hooks his fingers around the first button just to yank down, popping off half of the buttons of your expensive dress shirt and haphazardly pulling it off of you to toss it to the side before fumbling with the clip of your bra.

“Osamu,” you hiss, and Dazai revels in the way your voice wavers with each thrust, biting back moans. “That’s the second-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Dazai tosses your bra over with your discarded shirt and dips his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before rolling it between his teeth, and you’re gone—Dazai lets out a muffled groan around you as your back arches up into him, crying out his name, walls tightening around him as you cum on his cock.

“Oh-f-hah-fuck,” Dazai gasps as he rests his head on your collarbone, grip on your waist tightening. 

He has to physically force himself to lift his head, bracing his forearm on the mattress next to your head, desperate to see the way your eyes roll back, he can already feel himself teetering over the edge—the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock driving in and out of your cunt, he can feel your cum dripping down his cock, smeared on his pelvis.

His hand slides behind your head, lifting it from where you have it pressed against the mattress. Beautiful—the only thought that can run through his hazy brain is of you and how perfect you are, lips swollen and bitten raw, parted as pitched moans escape them, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as he fucks you through your orgasm and right into a second. He’s the only one that should ever get to see you like this, with your clever brain fucked right and dumb, body writhing against the bed as you cling to him.

He leans down again, trailing sloppy kisses against your neck, gasping as he starts to feel his high approaching.

“No one makes you feel like this,” he says, or maybe he begs, he’s not sure if he’s making a statement or pleading for you to tell him it’s the truth. “Tell me. T-shit-tell me.”

“No one,” you sob over another moan, and Dazai can feel your pussy fluttering around him—he wonders if he’s already fucked you into a third. Usually, it takes longer. “No one, Osamu, you’re the only one.”

And that’s the only thing he needed to hear to give him that final push. His steady pace shifts into a more erratic one, sloppy and desperate, as he chases a high that’s just out of reach. His moans are muffled against your skin, teeth scraping your collarbone, mind a jumbled mess of thoughts of you. He feels your fingers trembling as you lift them to his cheeks, pulling his face up to press your lips against his, and that’s all it takes: he lets out a wanton moan against your mouth, pressing your legs further into your chest as his hips still against your ass, finishing deep inside of you.

Spots dance in his vision, head buzzing and ears ringing; he swears his orgasm lasts an eternity, body shaking and shuddering above you, letting out breathy moans into your mouth. He can feel his cum dribbling out of you, pooling onto the sheets beneath the two of you, so much of it that you can’t even keep it all in you. 

He doesn’t let his lips leave yours once—the kisses are messy and sloppy, devoid of all of the finesse that the two of you usually have, teeth nearly clashing, tongues sliding against each other’s. 

It’s only when his vision finally starts to clear and his head feels less on the verge of passing out does Dazai finally trails kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck before he finally collapses on top of you, mind entirely gone, like he’s floating on clouds. He pants as he tries to catch his breath, eyes lidded as he absently trails kisses along your chest and collarbone. He thinks the world could be ending around the two of you, and Dazai wouldn’t even have the capacity to notice. For the first time in four years, he really, truly allows his brain to rest.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, eyes drooping shut as he lets himself be enveloped by your arms, drowning in the comfort of your scent.

He doesn’t want to know. He’s scared to look at the clock and check.

“Tonight was supposed to be about you,” Dazai finally complains, burying his face in your chest as he pouts.

You only let out a soft laugh above him. “We have the rest of our lives for that… You deserved a break, Osamu.”

The rest of our lives.

Dazai’s throat tightens, vision blurring a bit at the thought—he can only barely bring himself to respond, and the words that slip out are not what he means to say: “I never thought I’d get to be with you like this again,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I never thought-”

“I know,” you interrupt, voice quiet, a bit shaky. “... I know.”

Of course, you know.

He can’t bring himself to say anything else, so he doesn’t, sinking into your arms and allowing himself the comfort he’s deprived himself of for so long. He almost starts to drift off—and god, he can’t remember the last time he’s dozed off willingly, only able to sleep after drinking copious amounts of alcohol or taking an even more copious number of sleeping pills. It’s not until you speak again does he stir back awake from the brink of sleep.

“What did he ask of you? Oda, I mean,” you finally ask, fingers brushing through his dark hair, lulling him further to sleep.

Dazai thinks that you’re cruel, asking him while his mind is still fogged from the exhaustion following his high, and he’s still half asleep in your arms, trying to regain his bearings. The words slip out before he can think twice, forgetting his fear of you laughing at the idea of him trying to be a better man.

“He asked me to be on the side that saves people… if both are the same to me, he wanted me to be a good man.”

The words dawn on him too late; he can hardly bring himself to look up at you, scared that he’s going to find an amused expression on your face or a derisive sneer. He wouldn’t blame you, he’s thought the same about himself ever since he left the Port Mafia, doubt and self-loathing riddling him with every step he takes in the light. He waits for the scoff, he waits for the laugh, he waits for-

“... I think he would be proud of who you’ve become, Osamu. I think you’ve fulfilled his request.”

Dazai does look up at you now, feeling particularly vulnerable, still scared that he might find a mocking expression on your face but he doesn’t. Only an uncharacteristically soft expression is painted on your face as you look up at the ceiling, a genuine one—a small smile and a look in your eyes that makes his heart feel warm. You don’t notice him looking until he lets slip out:

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers. 

(I love you, he means)

“I’ve missed you too,” you say back quietly.

(I love you too)

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu smut #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x you

[prettyg1irlstears]

rafes friends teaching reader how to not be a pillow princess and make rafe feel good

i got it as bsf!rafe but if that’s wrong please let me know! maybe you meant kelce and topper? if yes lmk and i’ll write another one!

bsf!rafe teaching you how to take charge . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

warnings: use of alcohol, unprotected p in v, use of y/n (once), breeding, not proof read

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you were so excited when you ringed on your best friend’s doorbell after he invited you over to celebrate your 18th birthday. little did you know you two would end up drunk at the balcony of tannyhill after drinking wine for 2 hours straight.

and after one more bottle of wine, you find yourself clinging onto rafe, you don’t even know how or when the conversation turned so downhill.

“oh don’t tell me that your favorite position is missonary,” rafe chuckles and shakes his head, sipping on his glass.

“what? it’s nice.” you frown, hugging his arm as you lean into him, mind hazy from the wine.

“it’s nice for you ‘cause you don’t have to do anything. poor man’s doing all the work.” rafe states and looks down at you, smirking at the sight of you so touchy with him.

“i could take charge! i just prefer it this way.” you try to defend yourself, but deeo down you know you’re the prototype of ‘pillow princess’.

rafe scoffs. “of course you could.” he smirks, not believing you.

you frown, knowing he’s looking right through you. you whine and pull away from him.

“hey, look at me,” rafe slurs, gently taking your chin and turning your head back towards him. “there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, just admit that you’re a pillow princess.”

you just want to slap that stupid grin off his face. he’s just so..

“come on, you know you are,” *he teases as he rubs his thumb over your cheek bone. “just admit it.”

if you were drunk, you would probably pull away with blood rushing into your cheeks. but now, with the wine in your system, you’re just looking into his eyes with the prettiest doe eyes he has ever seen.

“fine, i am a pillow princess. but just because i’ve never..” you stop yourself. you don’t want to admit that. you know that your sex life is boring, but saying it out loud..

“you’ve never tried anything else?” rafe guesses, running his thumb over your plump lips.

“no..” you say quietly, looking away from him. but he takes your chin and makes you look at him again, and you feel yourself getting lost in those pretty eyes.

“i could teach you, y’know..” he says and rubs the tip of his nose against yours. your heart skips a beat, you breath catches in your throat.

“what??” you whisper. he chuckles, cupping your cheek.

“you heard me.” he whispers and leans in. you feel his lips touch yours, it’s just a small brush, small peck, but it’s enough for you to want to do unholy things with him, to want more.

and that’s how you end up in his bed. you don’t even know when you got from the balcony back inside, and you don’t even care.

he’s got you sat on his lap, kissing you slowly, breathing in your mouth as you run your hands through his hair.

his hand is in on your throat, not too tight to actually hurt you. his other hand was in your hair just a few seconds ago, but now it’s snaking down your spine until it reaches the zip of your sundress.

you hear the unzipping sound and suddenly you’re naked, your dress on the floor. you immediately cover your breasts, but he smiles and takes your hands, away from your tits.

“please don’t..” he whispers and leans down, placing wet kisses all over your neck, then collar bone, and finally on the most beautiful tits rafe has ever seen.

“so pretty..” he mutters against your skin and you can’t help but let out a tiny moan as you tug on his shirt. you get off of him for a second so he can take off his pants.

as soon as he’s naked too, the biggest cock you’ve ever seen reveals right in front of you. rafe chuckled when he sees your expression. “don’t worry, princess. i’ll make sure it fits.”

he fingers you for a while, making yure you cum on his long digits while placing wet kisses all over your neck and tits. you shamelessly ride his hand, squeezing his shoulders as you let out tiny moans.

“you’re ready.” rafe states, withdrawing his fingers from your pussy and putting them in your mouth. you suck and lick on them, tasting yourself while looking into his eyes.

you straddle his lap and take a deep breath. “okay princess, i’ll line up with you and you’ll slowly sink down, okay?” rafe instructs and you nod.

he lines up with you, like he said, and you look into his eyes. you slowly sink down on him, mouth opening as you feel him stretching you out.

“rafe—“ you whimper, sitting like this for a while, unable to move.

“fuck, princess. you’re so fucking tight.” he grunts, cupping your cheek. “now move.”

with tiny moans you slowly start moving up and down, looking into his eyes for reassurance. his hand wraps around your throat in frustration, a groan leaving his lips. “just like that, princess. nice and slow, you’re doing so good f’me.”

after a while you start to get more sure with your movement and increase the pace. desperate moans are leaving your mouth as you bounce on his cock, tits bouncing in sync with your movements as his hand tightens around your throat.

“fuck, princess..” rafe lets out a low groan, catching your lips in a fierce kiss. “doin’ so fucking good f’me..” he moans between kisses.

you start to get tired, your thighs are burning and your movements get sloppy. rafe feels that and decides to take charge. his hand leaves your throat and lands on your hip, holding himself for support with the other. he thrusts up into you, earning a loud moan from you.

“rafe.. i’m gonna..” you can’t even form a proper sentence as he thrusts up into you roughly, the knot in your belly threating to explode.

“yeah.. cum f’me princess..” he grunts, thrusting harder, making his tip kiss your cervix with each thrust.

“yes.. ah— ah.. rafe!” you moan out, pussy clenching around his cock, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you cum.

“fuck, princess.. want it inside?” he asks, his breathing harder as his thrusts get sloppy and you feel his cock twitching in your pussy.

“yes.. yes, rafe.. please..” you kiss his neck, moans leaving your mouth as you ride out your high.

“fuck.. oh— oh god—“ he grunts and with one last thrust, he exploded inside you, shooting loads of hot cum inside you.

small whimpers are leaving your mouth as you feel it, face in the crook of his neck as you’re being filled up by your best friend.

“jesus christ, y/n..” rafe whispers, still panting and still inside you as he runs his hand through your hair, giving you a soft kiss on the lips. “you did so good.”

“all thanks to you, rafe.” you whisper back, a smile on your lips as you brush his curtain bangs out of his face.

“yeah.. my good fucking girl.. can’t let anyone else have you now, can i?”

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe cameron smut #bsf!rafe #smut #obx x reader #obx smut

[teenytinyjimin]

i miss you, i’m sorry (j. jungkook)

nothing happened in the way i wanted

every corner of this house is haunted

and i know you said that we’re not talking

but i miss you, i’m sorry.

summary: the first time seeing each other after the breakup is always the hardest. but seeing each other when you're still in love? an absolute nightmare

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2k

tags: angst, smoker!jk, brokenhearted!jk, equally as brokenhearted!reader, why did they even break up in the first place?, featuring reader’s bestfriend!jimin, also jimin is sexually ambiguous let's keep it that way please

warnings: none, alcohol/nic use but nothing too intense, kinda sad but it's a happy ending i promise

author’s note: idk why i keep making my fic names and stuff inspired by songs, i guess it just helps me beat writers block.

also i wrote this in second person, lmk if you guys prefer that over third. i personally find third person fics easier to write, but i'm sure second person is easier to read for some of you. enjoy my angels!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Bars weren't really your thing.

If you were going to be honest, they were miles better than nightclubs, but still not your thing. It was something about the air that just rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps it was all the creepy old men that turned you off of them, or just the fact that there's not much to do besides sit, drink, sit some more, maybe play some pool and... sit.

Jimin, on the other hand, loved bars. He loved being able to sit there, look pretty, and watch as absolutely anyone and everyone flocked over to him to start a conversation. It admittedly fueled his ego, and he loved the feeling of being the center of attention. However, he didn't love being at bars alone. Being so drop-dead gorgeous meant that about twenty times the amount of creeps bothered him than the average bar patron. Many of them figured that a pretty boy like him was sitting there waiting to be swooped up by a sugar daddy. Let's get one thing straight – that wasn't him. He had plenty of money. He just wanted to have a little conversation, give a little kiss here and there maybe, and dip at the end of the night with his bar companion by his side.

Unfortunately for you, that bar companion was usually you. It was certainly a compliment for Jimin to want to bring you along with him instead of any of his other gazillions of friends and other social connections, but it was quite exhausting for you to be in a bar pretty much every day of every weekend. He liked the attention, but you didn't. If it were an empty room with nothing but you and a bottle of rum, you'd have a blast. But what bar in Itaewon was going to be like that?

Alas, here you were, sat at the end of a bar with your friend sitting next to you. Something about the light in the building made him look extra beautiful tonight, his skin shimmering like the most precious of diamonds and his eyes deep and full of allure. At the moment he was making small talk with a lady on the other side of him, one who was definitely at least twenty years his senior but didn't look a day past thirty. Sighing, you drop your head down to look at your drink, a half-full martini glass that held a rather disappointing cosmopolitan (you weren't a vodka fan anyway, it wasn't the bartender's fault).

You wanted to be home. That was the only place you ever wanted to be these days. At home, cuddling your darling kitty in bed, and sleeping your days away. Maybe a year ago you would have loved being out and about, but now it feels more like a burden than a fun activity. And you know that Jimin doesn't mean any harm in doing what he does, but seeing him talk with so many people over the course of the night and being so happy is almost a bit gut-wrenching for you because you can't be as happy as him.

You began to feel the blood rush to your ears and your face get warm. Something was wrong, you could sense it. Everyone has those gut instincts when something isn't quite right, and this wasn't just an instinct, it was like a neon sign. A neon sign that read DANGER. Perhaps it was just you feeling rather anxious and overwhelmed, but either way you were craving the comfort of your home.

"Hey, 'Minnie, can we-" Just as you turned to Jimin to softly ask him if you could go home or at the very least switch bars, you felt a presence behind you. It wasn't just an I'm here to order a drink presence, but rather an I'm here for you one. Realizing that Jimin wasn't even listening anyway, you froze, waiting to see what would happen. And that's when you heard a familiar voice that you thought you'd never hear again.

"Hey."

You didn't want to turn around. You tried to stay as still as a statuette for as long as possible, however the more you thought about the man behind you the more you felt the urge to turn around and take a bite of the forbidden fruit. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turned until you were face-to-face with your ex, Jungkook.

"Want to talk outside?" Not yet looking at him directly, you hesitantly nodded before quickly looking back to Jimin and then standing up. You left your purse there, figuring that your friend would grab it if he changed locations, and began trailing after the tall tattooed figure that navigated his way toward the door.

As the two of you stepped out into the cool autumn air, you crossed your arms and leaned against the building. Your heart was between your ears at this point, buzzing at what felt like 200 beats a minute. It was stupid for you to have even left Jimin's side, you thought, because now you were alone with your ex of all people and God knows what this boy has up his sleeve.

"You look good," Jungkook said gently as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. "And I know what you're going to say, you're so full of it Kook, but I mean it."

"Since when have you started smoking?" You asked, ignoring his previous two statements and gesturing toward the pack in his hand. He shrugged. "Couple weeks after I last saw you maybe? Not a big deal."

"You know that stuff's bad for you."

"I don't think sitting here third-wheeling with Jimin and his beau of the night is any better."

"You don't know Jimin, don't act like you do," You said, completely taken aback and offended by the words coming out of his mouth. "And I'm having a good time, thank you very much."

"Doesn't seem like it. Weren't you about to ask him if you guys could leave?"

"I was having- What?- Is there a reason you asked to talk to me out here?" You were struggling to form a complete sentence. This man always knew how to leave you speechless, but now it was just irritating. You watched as Jungkook leaned back onto the building with you and shook his head, giving you a toothy grin before lighting the cigarette in his mouth. "Nah. Just figured you'd have more fun out here talking to me and getting a break from it all."

"You know he's waiting for me, right? I should go back inside." You stand back up straight and begin walking back into the bar, however you feel a warm hand wrap gently around your wrist and tug you back. "Hey hey hey," Jungkook called. "He'll survive a few minutes without you. Just chill with me. I'm not asking you for anything, just a second of your time."

You turned to face your ex-lover, your eyes finally meeting his for the first time that night. Even after all this time of being apart, those beautiful doe eyes still yearned for you, and yours for him. With a shaky sigh, you brush his hand away and return to where you were standing. "Exes don't hang out like this, Jungkook."

"Woah, you're pulling out the full government name on me now?" The boy teased, puffing a cloud of smoke from his mouth. "Should I be offended?"

"I'm setting boundaries," You crossed your arms and kicked at the ground beneath you. "Nicknames are for friends or more than friends, which we aren't."

"We aren't strangers either though."

"That doesn't matter. Not friends."

"Alright, fine," Giving up, Jungkook looked down at his hand and flexed it awkwardly. "Just trying to be friendly."

"Friendly?!" You said frantically, finally having enough of his antics. "You don't need to be friendly. We broke up and that's the end of it. Exes aren't friends. They go their separate ways and when they see each other again – if they see each other – they ignore each other. I don't get why you're doing this psychological warfare bullshit on me."

"Exes can be friends," He breathed out in protest. "Can you even tell me why we broke up in the first place?"

You remained silent. The truth was that you didn't know why you broke up either. It had been almost a year since the whole ordeal went down, and you were still confused more than anything else, even more than you were hurt. All you can remember is that you guys went through some bullshit ‘mutual breakup’ that apparently neither of you wanted in the first place. The only reason you even agreed to it is because somewhere within you, you felt like perhaps you weren’t deserving of such a wonderful relationship. And the only reason Jungkook agreed to it is because he thought that it’s what you wanted.

"No, seriously. What went wrong? What did I do? I just want some closure..." His voice became increasingly softer as he kept speaking, which only meant one thing. You stared at the ground intensely, refusing to look up and see his teary eyes.

You felt his hand gently wrap around yours and tug on it as a plea for your attention. Jungkook was your weakness, the only person you'd willingly do anything for, and he really loved to take advantage of that without even realizing he was.

You peered up at him hesitantly, worried that you'd find yourself in tears the second you saw the ones pouring from his eyes. Sure enough, when the eye contact began, you were driving yourself forward into his strong arms and dampening his shirt with your tears.

Jungkook's embrace felt the same as it did the last time you felt it. It was still so warm, so inviting, so loving. Never once did you feel unsafe in his arms and this moment was not an exception. As you sobbed into his shirt you felt his hand move from around your waist to the top of your head, stroking your hair gently.

The two of you stood there for what seemed like hours, simply letting all emotion out while enjoying the company of one another. While Jungkook has been exceptionally transparent in expressing the fact that he's heartbroken about the situation between the two of you, it's safe to say that you feel equally as devastated. This man was once the love of your life and the only one you ever needed, but now everything about him except for his embrace feels foreign. This was someone you once saw yourself building a life with, but now it's shattering to think that he has a life after you.

You pulled away after a while, refusing to make eye contact as you wiped the tears from your eyes. This all felt entirely pointless. It was obvious that nothing went wrong in the relationship yet here you were, no longer in one. You couldn't begin to imagine what Jungkook had been going through since you guys broke up considering the fact that for you, your entire world turned upside down.

"I'm sorry," You managed to choke out before you felt Jungkook's hand gently guide your face up to look at his. You watched him stare at you for a moment, taking in your features, before his lips began to curl into a soft smile. "Mmm. Yeah. You're way too pretty to let slip through my fingers."

Feeling your face turn hot as a blush crept to your cheeks, you let out a soft giggle before you were cut off by a familiar pair of lips meeting yours.

"JUNGKOOK?" You heard a voice call out. The two of you pulled apart, eyes wide. Shit. You forgot about Jimin.

#teenytinyjimin #bangtan #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fanfiction #bts fic #angst #bts jungkook #bts jk #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook angst #jk angst #jungkook x reader #jk x reader #fanfic #jk fanfic

[ilyuu]

a confession.

words born from within the depths of feelings, the heart a tug to a path too intimate, too unfamiliar to a few as it navigates. at the tip of their tongue rests a string of words that can shift ties alone (or he confesses to you.)

ft. alhaitham, dainsleif, diluc, scaramouche & xiao.

warnings : bits of angst (dainsleif, diluc & scaramouche), fluff, literally fluff, confessions (surprise!) alhaitham is a menace, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n : hi 😀

alhaitham.

“i love you.”

sway of leaves, tips touching the glass. soot dusting the shelves, worn covers and pages left open. muted shades of a home a comfort. in the living room, wherein tinted shards of glass swallows the light in colors, it paints a myriad of shades onto you. and yet, it all fades into the background, a scenery, as the book in your hand weighs a bit lighter than it was a second ago; his words to the air weigh heavier than the ones in hand.

“…huh?”

his eyes turn to his side, on you, taking in any and every feature of yours to read any reaction - he didn’t need to look , with how close the two of you are, he could feel the warmth radiating from you. the quiet that you once enjoyed seemed to stretch on for what felt like an eternity.

“wait, wait. like as in like or…”

“is there another definition i should be aware of?”

the book in his hand slowly closes to a shut, a small bookmark tucked in the pages. the words printed onto there, words of one’s perspective out of the many fragments of the whole, falls for naught in this moment in particular.

“i love you, [name]. what i feel for you goes beyond the confinement of someone i see as, no less, a companion. i enjoy your company more than i expect to, i find myself thinking of you throughout points of the day despite of no reason to, among others, your voice had always stood out—”

“alhaitham.”

“—as well as wondering for your well-being whenever i have yet to see you for the day. on that note, when we do occasionally cross paths, i’d find myself in a state of tranqu—”

“stop.”

he does. the light hides little, and he sees how you try to hide yourself in your hands, not letting him see a bit of the look you’re wearing right now. but it’s obvious. if anything, it might as well be an open secret between the two of you with how his gaze subtly softens. those eyes you’ve always been drawn to, since the moment you’ve seen him, sees you and alone.

“…i love you too.”

“i thought as much.”

“would it kill you to be a bit more romantic?”

he hums. no later, he leans in and presses his lips against your temple. the surge of happiness that followed that small peck only made you to cave into yourself further. in some distant part, you’ve heard him say, “is that alright with you?”

dainsleif.

red petals swaying, akin to windmills. a draft of wind drifting in the air. a quiet aria that floats aloft aimlessly (one neither you or him can catch.) from the tower, though careful, you found yourself sitting on a jagged edge of the walkway, ivy and moss slithering among the cracks of the walls. your fingers felt the rough surface for a few moments, taking it all in alongside with him. the cold in the air isn’t the same as him - a familiar touch, there was, to him with all the time you’ve been with him.

and too much familiarity has you lulled into a state of comfort and unconsciousness. he’s noticed that as he sees you away fro and to, toppling. his hand hovers over your head, lightly pressing it against his shoulder as some sort of stability - or a pillow, whichever you prefer. there’s a tension in his fingers, nearly trembling, as it touches you, as if not used to this (and he isn’t.)

it burns. his fingertips burns.

“…there is no need for me to stay,” he murmurs, words faint in the name of the wind, “and i am aware of that as much as you are. there is nothing that roots me to this land - no relation, no matter of emotional connection… other than you.”

“time again, i am reminded how i live beyond the constant flow of time. something fleeting is but a dream. and you’ve given me a many; these moments with you… feels akin to a dream. none that asks for a endless life, a demise - simply a life with you.”

“i… i love you.” he looks at you. the air brushes your hair (in a way he yearns to as of late.)

“i love you more than i should.”

diluc.

soft shafts of sunlight rousing awake at the dot of the horizon. mahogany handrails bearing years of use. a pair of birds chirping, a string of song. the rails held you still as you stare at the skies, a melting harmony of rose and gold, always something of a sight that stole your breath away. it felt even better, framed by his presence, waves of his warmth wafting over to you. the slight wisps of wind tousled his hair, more of a mess than it already was, as he soaks in the touch of dawn once more (and yet again.)

and underneath your eyes does he slowly lose his composure, bit by bit. do

“you know,” your voice lifted the soft silence in the air, “i like watching these types of sunrises, i’ll say that… but any other reason you woke me up this early and dragged me here?”

“ah…” he shifts his gaze from yours, all curious, all seeing. he coughs into his fist, trying to clear his throat of all the tension. “i suppose my methods were a bit… unorthodox. in fact, yes, there is.”

“oh?” you lift your head up, just enough to look at him. you didn’t notice how close the two of you were together, and so you nearly touched the tip of his nose with his. “oh—”

he stays silent. his skin, as pale as it is, flared into a shade as red as his hair is, to the point that you don’t know where he starts or ends. he opens his mouth and closes it, the amount of times he did lost on you, and ended up biting his lip. there’s a bit of hesitation in every little thing he did, a stiffness, as he blows out a puff of air.

“hey, diluc?” you tilt your head, and as you stare at him with those eyes of yours, he feels as though it truly was the last straw. “do you need anyt—”

“i love you.”

your breath caught in your throat as much as his did. once again, a silence hangs, and yet, a quiet question and an unsaid answer remains in the air. he’s avoiding any contact with you, rather content in just staring at his fingers, biting into the wood of the handrails to the point of leaving marks.

“i… i— wait, what?”

he winces. so do you and you try again. “i mean… diluc, can you say that again? please?”

the seconds stretch on. it didn’t seem as though he’ll say anything, alright with the way his confession coalesces with the sun-kissed vines and barrels. and then he did. “i love you, [name]. always had, always will.”

“if it’s not too much for me to say, then… i’ve always appreciated how you stood beside, even when i’ve, on multiple occasions, attempted to push you away for your own good. a light that never yielded - the one thing that didn’t change.”

“and i’ve admired you for that. soon, that admiration turned into adoration with every single thing you do, and it had only grown from there.”

his cheeks cooled down a bit, yet still held some red in it. “of course, this is simply how i feel. whether you share this or n—”

“i do.”

he spun his head to you, and met eyes that held the same, if not more, adoration as his. the epitome of your feelings in your words as you said, “i love you too, diluc. always had, always will.”

scaramouche.

nature of the night surrounding the two of you. waves ebbing and flowing, foam rolling in. reflection of a moon rippled in the eye. he digs his hands into the sand, feeling the particles lost on his skin and, if anything, to numb the air nipping at him. he feels your eyes on his, eerily similar to the sea - calm, silent. patient. he folds his fingers, nails biting into the palm of his hands to etch in the feelings, thoughts, that kept a home in him a bit longer than he’d like.

“you know,” he says, “never in all the years have i existed did i think there was room for something futile.”

“i’m starting to wonder what isn’t futile in your eyes.”

“not the point.”

“agree to disagree.” there’s a smile in your voice - not that he has to see it, he just hears it and it’s enough for him. “but i’ll shut up. go on.”

“as i was saying,” he sighs, as if to let go of that air trapped in his throat, “you’re well aware of all the connections i’ve made, and that it all didn’t end as some happily ever after either like those stories.”

“again and again did the world tell me that i’m not worth the love of a family, a friend, let alone… someone more.”

from the corner of his eye, he sees you perk up at those last few words. like a small dollop of fire swallowed in the dark - a hope. and he looks to you, seeing you in your whole as you did just a few moments ago. he’d look at you in a particular way, maybe, as he watch your eyes widen just slightly, and that small light in you flickers to life.

you didn’t give yourself that hope though, you refuse to. this is him you’re talking about. the fact that you’re even here right now next to him because he asked you to was a miracle in and of itself. you’re as close to him as you’re alright with, and didn’t wish to cross this line that was so far away when you’ve met him - you didn’t want to feel far from him.

he opens his mouth, and with a voice dripping with hesitation, he says, “and you defy the world simply by being with me. everything you say, think, do - it’s as if you’re against fate itself, the very fate that ties us all together, whether we like it or not. that’s why i like you.”

his next words drips with a tenderness you seldom hear from him (up to this point.) “that’s why i love you.”

xiao.

lanterns lit, dotted across like stars. a bittersweet scent of incense clings to him. blades of grass crunching beneath any shift of movement. away from the life of the last few hours, the sun just shy of sleeping, the greetings of lofty shadows followed the two of you along the path to a place familiar, a step closer to home, if anything. since then, with little to o space within you and him, the times your hands grazed sending a static each and every time (the same with the slight blush touching his cheeks.)

“[name].”

a soft call of your name tugged you out of your thoughts. when you set your gaze on him, he stares back to you - feelings that you can’t put a name to coalescing. you see him open and close his mouth many times, the words at the tip of his tongue, and simply not taking form the way he wants them to. it’s cute, if anything, and as it continues, you couldn’t help the small smile that came to your lips.

there’s a small voice in the back of your head that tells you what, but it quickly quietens when his fingers brushes the back of your hand yet again. this time, he twines with yours. the cold presence of his glove sends a shiver to you - a rather pleasant one. from that, it’s as if he’s found the words.

“i… i am fond of you.” his eyes flits to yours. “more than i have intended. than i realized. at some point, in some time, your presence, your very existence, became… irreplaceable. something that i come to look forward to. and… the thought of not seeing you, even if for a day…”

his hand tightens its hold on yours.

“i am aware of how selfish this request is, and that i am not worthy for someone like you - that there is someone else that is capable of cherishing you - but… if you’ll let me have this, at the very least…”

you feel the pad of his thumb brush the back of your hand in slow, simple circles, whether to soothe you or himself. who knows? only that the touch sent a smile to you. you carried his hand to yours, and his questioning eyes widened just slightly when he feels your lips graze his knuckles in a feather-light touch.

“and i’m fond of you as well, xiao.”

he huffs, and turns his head the other way. the few streaks of sunlight held him in such softness, and coalesced along with the shade of his irises in a warm tandem.

general taglist (open!) : @zuyoo, @starz222, @haliyamori, @kazumist, @tartaglia-apologist, @mikacynth, @angelkazusstuff, @doumalove, @kpop-and-otome, @emo-mess, @mx-kaedehara . . .

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif x you #diluc x reader #diluc x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #xiao x reader #xiao x you

[harryspet]

oki so content warningish? ignore if u want ofc! the link is to a girl taking two fingers in her mouth/ finger sucking but not really? like the guy kinda just shoving them idk :<?

https://www.tumblr.com/solvsol/736569456856301568?source=share

just a request of mean/ dark rafe with this sorta thing? ofc ignore if ur uncomfortable! lmk if u want me to specify more

[warnings] dark!rafe x reader, NONCON, rough oral sex, face f*cking, mouth fingering, saliva, gagging ... etc. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Rafe would definitely do this, and he's definitely a head pusher when it comes to receiving oral! i barely edited this sorry :)

You drank too much, everything happened too quickly, and now your first time with Rafe wouldn't happen in the way that you imagined. You were so grateful for the attention he was giving you at the bonfire that you accepted every red solo cup he passed to you. You hurried and finished each drink every time he said, "Awe, I thought you could keep up with me, Y/N? You don't want to have fun?"

Now you were in the back of his truck, sloppily kissing in the confined space. Rafe's hands were everywhere, but he paid close attention to your breasts, grabbing them in his large hands and rubbing his thumb over your nipples. When your lips parted to moan, he just shoved his tongue deeper into your mouth. You couldn't breathe and that only added to your dizziness.

You pushed at his shoulders and realized how solid he was, how much naturally stronger he was than you. Pressed against the back door, Rafe pushed your legs apart, "W-Wait," You struggled to say. You repeated the word until your talking began to interrupt Rafe's ability to kiss you.

"What?" Even in the darkness of the car, you saw Rafe's empty, expecting expression, “You can’t say no now; I’m already hard.”

“No, that’s not – I mean,” You did want him to stop but the look in his eyes and the fact that he hadn’t pulled any further away from you made you realize that wasn’t an option, “Can we – Can we go slower?”

Rafe took in a breath, almost seeming frustrated. He looked you over, your top pulled low and your hard nipples poking through your shirt, “Shit,” Rafe whispered, sitting back in his seat. Shaky hands ran through his dark blonde hair, and his right leg bounced as he thought something over. He didn’t think for too long before reaching down to undo his belt. His bulge was already noticeable, too; his khakis were leaving nothing to the imagination, but you couldn’t help how your eyes widened when he fully pulled himself out of his briefs, “You did this to me, you know. You can use your mouth. Take care of me.”

You already knew this was the better idea, and you nodded your head. Another time, you’d both be sober and could have a romantic time. In a bed, preferably, after Rafe asked you to be his girlfriend. 

He reached and grabbed your wrist, pulling you over to the other side of the truck. You got on your knees, wrapping your dominant hand around his base, feeling exactly how hard he was. Unexpectedly, Rafe grabbed ahold of the back of your hair, forcing your face down. You did what you thought you should do, stroking his base while lubricating the tip. You swirled your tongue around, tasting him before you took more of him in your mouth. 

Rafe’s hand was lifting up your skirt, roughly grabbing your ass, as he slowly pushed your head further down. You started to gag, taking more of him in than was comfortable, but Rafe only smacked your ass, not allowing you to come up for air. Soon you were panicking, pushing at his thighs until he let you come up for air. You pulled away, tears fell, and you coughed as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Have you ever done this before? You’re already gagging, and I’m only halfway inside your mouth.” You looked at him through blurry eyes. 

“That-That hurt, Rafe” You spoke hoarsely. 

“Hey, hey,” He grabbed ahold of your face, pulling your face closer to his, “You need more practice. You won’t learn how to take my dick any other way. C’mere.”

Again, his grip was tight on your hair. This time, he pushed his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. Your wide eyes looking at him made him smile, although there was still an emptiness behind his eyes. Slowly, he pushed his fingers in and out of your mouth, his gold ring touching your lips. Every time you gagged, he shushed you and often would just shove his fingers further, “You’re not going to throw up, don’t be so scared,” He said, “You can do it; I know you can, fucking slut.”

Your eyes started to close, but he snapped at you, “Watch me. This is my mouth now. I can do whatever I want, right?”

You couldn’t respond as he pushed his fingers deeper. When he could push his fingers deep, and you didn’t gag, he stopped, “There you go,” Rafe pulled his fingers from your mouth, wiping the saliva all over your cheeks before he pinched your cheeks within his hand, “I knew you could do it, Y/N.” 

Tears were falling from embarrassment, and you wanted to hyperventilate, but Rafe bent you back over his lap moments later.

+

send dark!alpha!rafe concepts/ideas if you have them :)

#dark fic #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron drabble #anon ask

[bboricha]

rule breaker

➳ 🚫 mdni ➳ pairings: college!scaramouche x afab!reader ➳ synopsis: you cannot believe that he convinced you to do this. fucking in the library again, you mean. part 1 (both can be read as standalone pieces) ➳ wc: ~700 ➳ cw: not proofread, exhibitionism, unprotected, scara has a tongue piercing, he's referred to as "kuni," lmk if i missed anything

you told him that last time this happened, it would be the only time and now look at you. sitting on his lap, hugging him close to yourself so that anyone walking by would simply write the two of you off as an overly expressive couple displaying PDA. though, it would take just a little bit of interest for anybody to realize that he’s slightly thrusting up, fucking his girthy length into your cunt as you quietly whine against his neck. a little bit of interest just to take a look at your face and see the hearts and stars fluttering over your eyes as you use his shirt to muffle your sounds.

it wasn’t your fault! you couldn’t help it! especially not when he suspiciously sat next to you and placed his hand on your thigh, rubbing the flesh and slowly moving upwards and under your skirt, playing with the hem of your panties until his hand happened to slip under. and especially not when he starts rolling your clit against the tips of his fingers, dipping another finger into your dampening hole. and when he starts abusing that gummy part that he knows you love? you just simply cannot be blamed for falling for his capable fingers and antics yet once again.

you know that the chances of someone coming to the corner where your table sat between old documents and boring manuscripts laced with dust were practically zero to none, but your heart can’t help but thump every time you hear a noise coming from somewhere other than the two of you. it was hard to stay focused on someone catching you both though, kuni made sure to keep your attention on him. he’d kiss you, nip at your neck, tease your nipples, flick your clit, or give a particularly hard thrust that almost makes you squeal. you can’t tell if that’s just him being needy or telling you that it’ll be fine and to look at him instead, but regardless it makes your heart thump in a different kind of way.

“i’m not sure what you like the best—you seem to tighten up at everything i do,” he laughs breathily. you flush at the bluntness of his words, about to pull away from the hug until he removes his hands from your hips to hug you back instead, keeping you in place. you’re about to protest when you hear voices nearing and you freeze. he puts your head down against his shoulder, holding it there when you hear footsteps quickly passing by your heart racing a mile a minute. you squeeze against him at the sound as he softly grunts in response. the footsteps are now fading and you cautiously lift your head, scoping the area to make sure the both of you are alone again.

“i really think you have a preference for this,” he smirks and you hit him.

“i swear this is really the last time we’re doing this,” you hiss, about to open your mouth again to argue more until he kisses you, shutting you up promptly. you haven’t even noticed him taking off his glasses to do so, the thought immediately interrupted by the feeling of his piercing against your own tongue. thrusting again, you moan into his mouth. he’s right, honestly. the thrill is almost irreplaceable, but you’d rather go celibate for the rest of your life than to admit that to him out of all people. all of a sudden, kuni grinds against you as you bite back a whine, clutching onto his sweater to ground yourself.

“baby,” he groans out, his voice is raspy and the sudden use of a pet name makes your cunt throb, “it’d be in your best interest to keep your eyes on me.” his thrusts are getting sloppy as he brings a hand towards your clit, rubbing fast figure eights against it. you can feel the coil in your stomach winding so much that it’s close to snapping, the sensation making it harder to contain your noises.

“where?” he asks, his pace unrelenting as you recklessly mutter “inside,” pulling his face close to yours to pull him into another kiss. he gives one last flick to your clit, making the coil snap as you convulse around his cock. holding you down against him, he releases his warmth inside of you, groaning against your neck. he breathes heavily into your shirt as you both come down from your highs quietly. you’re thinking about how to run to the bathroom to clean yourself up before anything could leak out until he opens up his dumb mouth asking,

“wanna go again?”

➳ an: inspired instantly by this. thank you to this artist for this. thank you. he is so fine. i do not know how to act.

#bboricha*:･ﾟ✧ #bori writes*:･ﾟ✧ #bori nsfw*:･ﾟ✧ #scara x reader #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact imagines #scaramouche smut #kunikuzushi genshin #kunikuzushi smut #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche #genshin scaramouche

[perotovar]

baby, i'm-a want you — (ch 1) "session one"

gif by me

pairing: joel miller/dieter bravo (just this time. main pairing is still javi/joel) rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 3.5k content: swearing, joel and tommy's southern accents being cute af, dieter being a menace, joel being awkward af (but it's cute), cringey porn dialogue, male masturbation (briefly), one (1) handjob, one (1) blowjob (it's messy), lmk if i missed anything! dividers: @saradika-graphics beta: @qveerthe0ry (ily ♥)

summary: javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where most of the ppcu boys are gay porn stars~

(read this first ->) prologue | series masterlist

Joel never would have guessed he’d do something like this ten years ago. Hell, not even five years ago. He’s not even totally sure how he got here, if he’s honest with himself.

He just remembers an, admittedly shady, business-looking man coming up to him and shoving a business card in his face. He asked if Joel had ever slept with men before. Joel was taken aback and thought he was coming onto him in a really bizarre way. He had, but that was none of this man’s business as far as he was concerned.

“There’s no pressure, I promise. Here, my website is on the card. If you see what you like, you gimme a call, okay?” The man had winked, grabbed his coffee, and left. 

Joel was left sitting in the middle of that coffee shop stunned into silence.

Later that night, sitting in front of the laptop Sarah nearly forced on him, he clumsily typed (using only his index fingers) the name of the website from the business card into the search bar.

Love Bites

The name and the man, Max Phillips according to the card, and his invasive question should’ve told him everything he needed to know, but Joel wasn’t prepared for the absolute onslaught of nudity he was met with.

“Jesus–” Joel mumbled to himself, slamming the laptop closed. Not that that would take it away, but he could hope. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head to himself. “The fuck you get yourself into, Miller?” He grumbled.

Slowly, and with one eye closed, he opened his laptop again. Once he got both eyes on it again, the website wasn’t… too bad. Well, it was still a porn site, but it wasn’t anything he hadn't seen before. He started looking around some more and didn’t bother turning it down. He lived alone now, both girls having moved out within the last year or so. He missed the hell out of them, and frankly, found himself bored more often than not. He and Tommy still owned Miller Contracting, but Joel stuck to the delegating and organizing part now. He had too many knee and back problems to keep up on the actual building part.

His finger rolled over to the “profiles” section of the website. He raised a brow and clicked on the trackpad hesitantly. There were several headshots of the men that made content for the website. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans and cleared his throat awkwardly, exhaling heavily. Well, it… had been a while. What could it hurt, right? 

He did have a lot of options…

Dark eyes trailing over the men on the site, he smiled softly. They all had little biographies that explained what their sexualities and preferences were. He snorted a little at seeing two different cowboys; one gay and a little older than himself, the other bisexual and perhaps around the same age. The younger cowboy had a prominent mustache and had a preference for “tying people up”. Bit on the nose in Joel’s opinion, but there was something for everyone. The older cowboy tended toward more amateur-style, “romantic” videos. Joel’s heart softened a little, but decided he wasn’t really in the mood for that sort of thing. 

In his search, he found just about everything; a messy haired, self proclaimed “adventurous” sort, a masked man that liked to roleplay, a clean cut looking man that considered himself a “romantic”. You name it, they probably had it. But his eyes landed on a particular man…

He had deep, intense eyes and a thick mustache. His hair was styled like he walked out of the 80s and he was wearing a thin gold chain. He had a bit of a Burt Reynolds thing going on, and normally that wouldn’t be something Joel was into, but this time, well… 

Joel clicked on his – Javier’s – page and started browsing the videos he had available. His bio said he was “fluid and polyamorous”, but Joel didn’t know what that meant. Wow, he was… popular. That didn’t surprise Joel at all, but his eyes landed on one of Javier’s “solo” videos. It looked like it was filmed in his apartment, but it probably wasn’t from how well lit it was. The video started off like Joel guessed all of them did; a fancy graphic with the words “Love Bites” in the center of the screen before the sound effect of someone taking a bite out of something, and a faint moan. The tips of Joel’s ears warmed, but he pressed on, watching Javier walk onto screen and sit in the middle of the couch that was in frame. 

Javier’s jeans were very tight, but maybe even moreso because of how fucking hard he looked to be. Joel swallowed a lump in his throat, his cock twitching again. Javier had an easy smirk on his handsome face, but he seemed like he didn’t have the cockiness that Joel expected a pornstar to have. The video seemed like it was personally sent to Joel and that thought made Joel’s cock stand to attention almost comically quickly. Unzipping his own jeans, he groaned at the constriction leaving, allowing him to breathe easier. He squeezed his cock and looked back at the video, Javier already getting started without him. He was stroking his own cock slowly, almost teasingly, biting a plump bottom lip. Joel moaned and shut his eyes for a quick second as he took himself in hand–

Ring, ring.

Joel groaned, squeezing his cock harder, and dug his phone out of his pocket. Tommy. He sighed and paused the video on Javier’s blissed out face and big hand wrapped around his–

Ring, ring.

“Christ, Tommy, what is it?” He grumbled, pressing the too-new-for-his-liking phone to his ear.

“Jesus, who pissed in your oatmeal this mornin’?” Tommy’s easy voice filtered in, a chuckle wrapped around his words. “And why are ya outta breath? Ya okay?”

“What–? Yeah, ‘m fine, Tommy. Why y’callin’?”

“Wonderin’ if ya could stop by tonight. Maria’s makin’ meatloaf and I know ya like it.”

Joel did really like Maria’s meatloaf. He sighed to himself and shut his laptop, his cock having softened considerably since hearing his brother’s voice. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat, trying to subtly zip up his jeans while he held the phone against his shoulder. “I’ll come over in a little bit, just gotta… gonna make a phone call.”

“Ooh, ya finally have a date, old man?”

“Can it,” Joel grunted. “‘M forty-three. Ain’t that old. And no, I was gonna call Sarah. See how her classes are goin’.”

“Send her our love, will ya? ‘N tell her she’ll have a cousin soon. Maria’s ‘bout to pop any day. ‘M scared to death,” Tommy sighed. The happiness was clear in his voice, though. Joel was happy for him, and smiled to himself. “How’s Ellie doin’, by the way?”

“Good. Think she said somethin’ ‘bout joinin’ a… roller derby team? Don’t rightly know, but,” he shrugged to himself. “Sounded like somethin’ she’d like, way she was describin’ it.”

Talking on the phone with Tommy always went the same way. He’d find a way to chew up a couple hours of your time, but Joel never minded. Once they said their goodbyes and their I-love-yous, Joel picked up Max Phillips’ business card and sighed, rubbing his thumb over the phone number.

What could it hurt, right?

That was two years ago. He’s been working for Love Bites for two years and had been avoiding Javier Peña as much as he could.

Joel’s never been good at… initiating conversations. Ellie would always give him shit for it. She usually went up to whoever had caught Joel’s eye and slyly made it her goal to get them to come over to him. 

But Ellie wasn’t here and she never would be. His girls knew what he did and even if they were a little concerned for him at first, they saw how much happier he’d been since joining. He was healthier, gaining a bit of “chub” as Sarah called it, and a healthier glow to his skin. He was on camera more often now, so he had to eat well and work out a little more. He didn’t do anything too crazy, and the audience that watched his videos had a lot of positive opinions and comments about his physique. It made him blush to think about it for too long, so he tried not to.

What was he saying?

Oh, right. Avoiding Javier Peña.

He’d had a huge crush on him ever since that first video he watched, and frankly, didn’t want to make a fool of himself if he talked to him. He’s filmed one video with him and it was the best Joel had felt in years. He almost came too quickly, and the video was supposed to be twenty minutes long. They had to pause so Joel could calm himself down, but Javier was patient and lovely with him. Javier had been doing this a lot longer than Joel had, so he wasn’t worried, which made Joel feel better. Just a little embarrassed. Afterwards, he had to leave, making up a story about seeing his girls for dinner that night.

“Javi!”

Joel’s eyes snapped up from his phone. He was in the middle of texting Sarah, saying that he’d call her when he got home from work. He had a scene with Dieter today.

And there he was. God. Joel’s cheeks flushed at the sight of Javier standing in the hall in his robe. He must’ve just finished his scene with Shane, the new kid. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the sound of Javier’s deep, commanding voice was enough to send a chill down Joel’s spine. Before he knew it, Javier was talking animatedly with Steve, another actor, as they walked off down the hall and disappearing around a corner.

He knew, realistically, relationships between porn actors could happen. Silva and Jake had been together for years. Joel’s problem with that was, well… Joel. His last real relationship was with Sarah’s mom years ago, and when the girls were in high school he had a relationship with this guy, Ezra for a while.

Smack!

“Jesus–!” Joel jumped, holding onto one of his ass cheeks protectively. Only one person would have done that.

“Hey, handsome,” Dieter grinned, sticking a hand down the back pocket of Joel’s jeans and squeezing. “Getting lost in Javi’s eyes again?” He winked.

“N-no! I am not,” Joel grumbled, finishing off his text and shoving his phone in his pocket.

Dieter snorted and rolled his eyes, then removed his hand to hold it out for Joel to take. “C’mon, big guy. You get to cum on my face today,” he smirked.

Filming with Dieter always felt good. He was a bit wild for Joel’s personal tastes, but he always made sure Joel was comfortable, and today was no different. 

Joel was playing a “plumber” that needed to work on Dieter’s “pipes”. This of course led to Dieter offering to “pay” in his own way. 

“Oh, come on, big guy like you doesn’t need money, right?” Dieter recited his lines expertly, running a hand down Joel’s t-shirt covered chest. “Bet it gets lonely doing this sort of work, huh?”

Joel had gotten a lot better at the acting part of things over the past couple of years. He was super stiff (and not in the right way) in the beginning, but now, he easily plastered on a smirk, eyes glued to Dieter’s lips. “Sometimes,” he shrugged, a big hand hovering over Dieter’s shoulder. Dieter saw the hand out of the corner of his eye and grinned, curling his fingers around Joel’s thick wrist and moving it down to his ass.

Joel smirked, squeezing the plump flesh appreciatively. “Bit forward o’ you,” he rumbled.

Dieter visibly shivered and bit his lip. “Sexy guy like you, of course I am,” he breathed. He leaned forward and kissed Joel messily, the hand on Joel’s torso moving down to unzip his jeans. Joel was already painfully hard and grunted into Dieter’s mouth when his pants were opened and lowered enough to pull his cock free. Dieter moaned and curled his fingers around Joel’s shaft, pumping rhythmically.

They stayed like that for a while; open mouth kisses, heavy breathing from Joel, and Dieter’s moans being picked up by the mics. 

Dieter pulled away to look down at the thick cock in his hand and bit his lip at the sight. “Fuck,” he groaned, his own cock twitching in his sweats. “Can I suck your cock?” He looked up at Joel demurely, eyes big and nearly black with desire.

Joel forgot he was supposed to be acting for a minute and grunted, hips bucking into Dieter’s grasp. “F-fuck, yeah,” he nodded, eyes glazed over. Dieter smiled and guided Joel over to the couch on the set. Technically, Dieter was supposed to get on his knees in the “kitchen”, but he knew Joel wouldn’t be able to stand for that long with his back problems. Sometimes Dieter’s improv classes came in handy. Max couldn’t complain too much, as long as Dieter sucked Joel off, then the video was still following the script.

Joel grunted as he sat, hard cock swaying slightly. Dieter giggled a little and happily got down on his knees, hands traveling up and down Joel’s thighs appreciatively. “Such a pretty cock,” he hummed, licking his lips as he watched it twitch in front of him, a drop of pre-cum gathering at the tip. 

“Why dontcha put that mouth to use, then?” Joel smirked, gripping the base and tapping the head against Dieter’s cheek. “Want your discount, right?”

Dieter smiled and opened his mouth wide, eyes shut in pure bliss. Joel gripped Dieter’s messy curls and held him still as he hit the head of his cock against Dieter’s tongue. Dieter moaned and opened his eyes, watching Joel’s face for any cues to stop. They never came, but it was something they all had to keep an eye on. When everything seemed to be going well, he happily wrapped his mouth around the head of Joel’s cock and started bobbing his head up and down.

He moaned, the vibrations traveling down Joel’s cock and up his spine, making Joel groan in return. “Mmm, knew you’d be good with your mouth,” he grinned, holding the back of Dieter’s head to set a pace Joel liked better.

Dieter heard a cameraman move to his right to get a better angle of his mouth, so he amped it up a little. He got messier, saliva dripping down along the sides of Joel’s shaft. Joel moaned weakly, resting his head on the back of the couch, but keeping one of his hands tangled in Dieter’s messy curls. Dieter started bobbing his head slower, eyes locked on Joel’s face as he moved further down his shaft, taking as much as he could down his throat. He choked slightly and pulled off, pre-cum and saliva covering his mouth and Joel’s cock. He smiled up at Joel and panted heavily, curling his fingers around the base to pump the thick cock.

Joel’s eyes rolled back and he grunted, hips bucking off the couch. “C’mere,” he breathed, heavy work boots landing heavily on the set floor as he stood. “Gonna fuck your face.”

Dieter shivered at the low timbre of Joel’s voice and nodded happily up at him. He pulled his sweats down and gripped his own cock in hand and started stroking himself rhythmically. Dieter opened his mouth for Joel obediently and nearly choked again when Joel shoved his cock down Dieter’s throat. He moaned weakly when Joel’s hips started moving, his heavy balls slapping against Dieter’s chin.

Dieter just had to take it, the lewd sounds of Joel fucking his face filling the otherwise quiet room. He fucking loved it because Joel was subtly massaging Dieter’s scalp and it sent shivers down his spine. His fist was almost a blur over his own cock and tears leaked out of his eyes, a blush high on his cheeks.

“Mmm, bein’ such a good boy f’me,” Joel grunted, biting his lip to rein it in a little. Dieter moaned at the praise, eyebrows downturned in pleasure. “Yeah? Like bein’ my good boy?”

Dieter whined and nodded as best he could, eyes completely glazed over. Joel slowed down his hips a little and let Dieter breathe for a minute. Dieter panted hard, a near-dopey smile on his face. “Come on my face,” he breathed heavily, extending his tongue for Joel. “Please.”

It was Joel’s turn to shiver as he slapped the head of his cock against Dieter’s face again. “Gonna have to earn it,” Joel smirked, reciting his lines as well as he could. 

Dieter whined and pouted up at him, his own hand slowing down a little. He didn’t say anything, letting Joel continue.

“Make me come, and I’ll paint this pretty face o’ yours.”

Dieter’s face lit up and he curled his fingers around Joel’s shaft. He watched Joel’s face while he wrapped his lips around the head and bobbed his head. His free hand held Joel’s hip and subtly moved to his ass and squeezed. He moaned around Joel’s cock and shut his eyes briefly before obediently looking up at him, big eyes wet and innocent. 

“Atta boy,” Joel grunted, cupping Dieter’s face lovingly. Dieter removed his mouth to kiss down his length as he stroked him, attaching his lips to one of Joel’s balls. “Mmm, fuck,” Joel breathed, tipping his head back. 

The hand on Joel’s ass moved slightly until one of Dieter’s fingertips prodded at Joel’s asshole. Joel grunted in surprise and smiled down at Dieter. “Really want me all over ya, huh?”

“Yes,” Dieter nodded, sucking one of Joel’s balls into his mouth. “Please.”

“Keep talkin’ like that and– ooh, fuck – Jus’ might get your wish,” Joel panted, shutting his eyes. He felt the build up in his lower stomach, his cock twitching violently in Dieter’s hand. “C’mere, baby boy,” he grinned, taking his cock back to stroke himself over Dieter’s face.

Dieter was buzzing, lifting Joel’s t-shirt to lovingly caress his hairy tummy, mouth open wide and obedient. 

Joel felt his balls draw up and his hips buck until– “Fuck–! Shit,” He moaned, thick ropes of come spurting out from the tip of his cock and landing on Dieter’s face and mouth. He caressed Dieter’s hair, thick fingers massaging his scalp while the other hand stroked himself until his balls were completely empty. 

Dieter happily licked his mouth clean, and hid his face in Joel’s stomach, whimpering into the sweaty skin. He moaned weakly, his entire body trembling as he came, completely untouched. Dieter was the only one in the cast that could do that, and he loved showing it off as much as he could.

“Shit,” Joel smiled, petting Dieter’s sweaty curls back and out of his face. “Ain’t you a sight.”

“Cut!”

Dieter deflated, a huge grin on his face. He started giggling into Joel’s stomach and smiled up at him. “Fucking love your cock, Joel,” he hummed happily.

“That’s what you always say,” Joel snorted, helping him up onto his feet. Dieter was a little wobbly still and cuddled into Joel’s side. He always got a little clingy after a scene, but Joel didn’t mind. As different as they were, Joel would probably consider Dieter one of his closest friends. It always worked in their favor, their natural chemistry and closeness coming through the cameras.

They were handed a couple towels and some water, the both of them taking them gratefully. Max came up to them, his usual shit-eating grin on his face. Joel always thought Max reminded him of a vampire, with that mischievous glint in his eye that always seemed to be there.

“Great show, boys,” Max started. “Dieter, d’you mind if I steal Joel away for a second?”

Dieter whined and clinged onto Joel tighter. Joel grinned and hugged him back. “Sorry, boss, looks like he ain’t leavin’ anytime soon.”

Max rolled his eyes, but continued anyway. “Fine. Meant to tell you earlier, but things got rolling, you know how it is–”

“What is it, Max?”

“You’ve got a scene with Javier tomorrow.”

If there were a record player anywhere, Joel would probably hear it scratching right about now. Dieter paused too, and looked up at Joel with worried eyes. He knew all about Joel’s crush, and was always telling Joel to just go for it. Joel froze briefly, but tried to school his emotions as best he could.

“O-okay, um. What time?” He asked shakily, gripping Dieter’s fluffy robe tighter.

“I’m thinking around noon? That way Javier can prepare, y’know?”

Preparing was always done before a particularly intense scene. Joel tried really hard not to think about Javier wearing a plug for a while before coming to set. 

“Right,” Joel nodded, cheeks going a little pink. “I’ll be there.”

“You’re the best, Joel!” Max snapped his fingers and walked off, talking to a couple of assistants. 

Dieter tapped on his chest and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You really gotta say something, Joel,” he said softly. 

Joel sighed and nodded. He knew that. 

He just didn’t know what.

#joel miller #dieter bravo #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller series #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo series #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ppcu fanfiction #oaksfics

[hwaightme]

Making wishes

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI (nsfw tags under cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

HAPPY (slightly belated) BIRTHDAY @cheollipop !!!!!! Nora I love you so so much, and when you asked me to do a lil birthday request for you I could not be more honoured. Thank you so much for existing, being the beautiful kind person that you are, thank you for sharing your art and your wonderful mind with all of us; I am wishing you happiness, love, health, luck, all the best and more <33 Smooches and huge hugs

🎂 pairing: bf!wooyoung x f!reader x best friend!seonghwa 🎂 genre: smut, pwp, fluff, established relationship into a poly relationship 🎂 summary: making wishes on shooting stars, on burning candles, you wanted one thing to come true. seonghwa and wooyoung are more than willing to celebrate the birthday girl. 🎂 wordcount: 7.0k 🎂 warnings/tags: poly relationship formation, language, an interesting kind of birthday party, slight(?) woohwa - relationship is a product of FICTION and does not imply ANYTHING in reality, food/eating, birthday wishes, woo being a menace, stalling hwa, a lot of love and acceptance, questionably edited (in true bai fashion), first poly fic so... yes; lmk if anything else 🎂 a/n: wishing everyone love and kindness. happy birthday nora, ilysm and i hope you enjoy!

🎂 permanent taglist: @doom-fics @legohwas @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @/cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @mystar1024 @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt

🎂 cannot be tagged: @hjoymyluv @memoriesofwoo @ate-ez

🎂 nsfw tags: soft dom!hwa, switch!woo, sub leaning!reader, blowjobs (yes, in plural), the lightest bit of degradation (not towards reader), praise, petnames (love, sweet, pretty...), throatfucking, cum in mouth + swallow, eating out + fingering, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), cum inside, threesome (why yes, two at the same time), soft aftercare, a lot of affection

“Hwa, do you know where-”

“Top cupboard on the far right. Behind the glass noodles packet. And no, not the blue packet. The one on the right. I told you it would be better to put it in a different cupboard.”

“... hey that’s… uh… okay… thanks.” you gave up quickly enough, fully aware that, no matter what retort you would make, Seonghwa was right. But he would never force you to change your habits and preferences even if he desperately wished so, because then who would ask him where the ingredients were in their own kitchen?

He knew you. Knew you better than you did. Seonghwa knew where you put things, knew what you truly meant when you spoke, knew how you felt depending on how you walked. Down to the tiniest tilt of your head or a raise of the eyebrow, he tried his best to read every nuance and learn every interpretation, and even after years of friendship, you were still his favourite story. If he could, he would never take his gaze off you, simply because in you he had found the tale that he always wanted to be part of.

As Seonghwa watched you reach for the bag of icing sugar - the product of you having forced your way into the preparations for your birthday after convincing him with your very best attempt at puppy eyes that you wanted to ‘share the burden’, he could not help but follow every movement. Biting his lower lip, Seonghwa desperately wished to lull his mind before it began to yell, though judging by the way his breath had gotten shallower as you lithely stretched towards the shelf, it was a bit too late for that, and instead he had to continue kicking himself. Over, and over, and over again. That he was stuck in the cliche scenario of being a lovesick best friend with no chance of ever even admitting his feelings.

It was easy to fall in love with you. So easy, in fact, that he had not noticed until it was far too late, and there was no room for you to hear his confessions. Frankly, had he been quicker on his internal uptake, Seonghwa had at least a year in his favour before the ‘official roadblock’ showed up. But no. Instead he had to be all blushes and smiles, trips to the Lego store and Star Wars movie marathons without any steps forward. Why? Because the last thing he wanted was to ever let you go. And to attempt to change things, even if Seonghwa desperately sought it, implied that the risk of you banishing him from your life would grow exponentially higher.

He could never see you as a stranger. As a daydream? Sure. As a fantasy? Undoubtedly. But as a passing face, a figure that would simply disappear from his heart and mind? After all that you had been through, the ups and downs, the trials and terrific successes, you were a permanent presence in his life. Perhaps even the epicentre of his musings, especially in the last few months. Because over this time, suddenly, he was not quite confident in his reasoning for your bashful smiles, the glimmer in your dazzling eyes, the lightness in your every step. Or at least, was not quite confident that it was ever him that caused you to act that way anymore. Seonghwa had grown too comfortable being around you but not with you, assuming that these two were the same thing. He had grown accustomed to kissing you on the cheek in greeting and in parting because that was ‘what friends did’, even though it was so far from the truth. Many times he had been questioned about your relationship, and he would simply brush it off. Apparently he did that too well. So well that you had been brushed away too and right into the arms of his own friend. Seonghwa, being the overly confident fool that he was, introduced you to Wooyoung, and watched as your acquaintanceship bloomed into friendship and soon enough into you calling that man your boyfriend. Your significant other. Any affectionate name or title that you would choose for him simply reminded Seonghwa that he had lost in the race to your heart. Nevertheless, his passions did not subside. He tried to extinguish them, tried to speak casually and behave cooly, but that only backfired when both you and Wooyoung only amplified your kindness, insisting that he needed to ‘be taken care of too’, and doting on him until all there was left for him to do was to admit to himself that he was deeply, unchangeably in love with you, and even the presence of a boyfriend could not deter him anymore. In fact, perhaps due to his close relationship with Wooyoung, he only felt that he would simply be a nice addition. Fit into your life like a puzzle piece, complementing both you and your boyfriend perfectly. He was perfectly aware that Wooyoung could satisfy you in ways that he couldn’t, but at the same time, Seonghwa knew you and Wooyoung, and thus could guess exactly how he could create the ideal harmony.

This was why he had jumped at the opportunity when you had messaged him with discussions for your birthday plans. You were never one to organise large gatherings, but even then the event turned into a family celebration to which Seonghwa was automatically invited. As such, when he heard that you wanted a more ‘intimate’ setting with just a couple of people and only your favourite things, his brain went into overdrive. A couple of people. As you had explicitly stated as soon as you invited him - you, him and Wooyoung: the most important people in your life, your past, present and future. The words had made his heart ache as he rapidly accepted the invitation and now found himself in the same kitchen as you and your boyfriend, feeling anything but like the odd one out, the third wheel.

It was in the lingering touches as you passed by him, the welcoming glances from Wooyoung as he would gingerly sidestep to get an item from another part of the kitchen, and some piece of information, a secret, strung tightly in the air right above his head and shooting between the two of you that resulted in what Seonghwa wanted to label as something reminiscent of smugness. Occasionally, you would look at Wooyoung and raise an eyebrow, as if you were waiting for some kind of instruction from him. This had led the latter to behave more freely, every bit a sly fox as he spoke in euphemisms, symbols and symphonies of comedic artistry that left Seonghwa baffled. Wooyoung’s attentiveness to the older man’s every reaction was astounding. From a light touch on the shoulder when they slumped as he was uneasy from a new mess made during cooking, or to a wink thrown in his direction as Wooyoung noticed him stiffen as you ambled past his form, hands on his waist to balance yourself as you squeezed between Seonghwa and the island counter.

A couple of hours later, in his peripherals unfolded the beginning of what he could only mark as a pivotal moment in his life. You called Wooyoung over casually, not giving a sign that there was anything particular that you wanted to ask, and how he embraced you, his chest pressed against your back only made Seonghwa want to sigh, wondering how it would be if he were to be able to do that limitlessly, instead of always worrying where his hands were, how long he should hold you, whether the action was making you uncomfortable. All he wanted was to be able to drift into a paradise with you in his arms, and feel your heart beating in unison with his. Voices dropped into a whisper, and inadvertently, Seonghwa caught himself half-closing the tap to reduce the cacophony it produced for even a little slip of a conversation to fly in his direction. To no avail - with barely any exchange between you, you and your boyfriend appeared to speak in codes, aside from one unexpectedly sultry gaze from you that sent Seonghwa’s mind reeling.

There was not much left for you to consider. It had been clear to you since a couple of years ago that you were not platonically indifferent towards Seonghwa. He was the subject of your desires, had appeared multiple times in your wildest dreams, and was both a source of comfort and agitation because, despite him always ‘being there’ for you, you wanted more. You needed more. He was like an unreachable star who you were inexplicably drawn to, and even though you had ample opportunity to be with him, and were close, it was not enough. The lightyears that separated you left you unsatiated with the relationship, because you wanted to give Seonghwa love. And more of it. With every moment that had past, you had found yourself flying deeper and deeper into outer space in the hopes of reaching this lonely star and share with it your own shine, so that together, you could be brighter than ever before. You prayed for shooting stars in the sky, so that you could make wish after wish, asking the same thing every time: that he would take the step and reveal the meaning behind his glimmer when you were around, that he would utter the words that you wanted to hear, that he would feel the same. But no such thing. You had been left in suspense - a grey zone from which neither of you dared to venture.

That was, until Wooyoung had entered your life, and set the ashes on fire. He was perceptive, a dreamer and a doer, not stopping at a set routine, always ready to find the optimum if it meant sharing happiness. To him, the situation was easy. As soon as he discovered that you were in love with Seonghwa, he took it upon himself to observe his friend, only to burst into a fit of laughter at just how oblivious both of you were, and how lucky he was to have both of you in his life along with the ability to let it all fall into place. The plan was easy enough. Without giving too much detail, Wooyoung proposed that Seonghwa needed to be shocked into a confession, and you agreed. After all, what harm could an attempt do when your feelings had reached a point of no return? You had naively believed that Wooyoung was going to approach this carefully, cautiously, likely because you had dared to believe that a flame could not be scalding, but no such luck. What you wished for, was a sacred plea to him, and he was not going to make the birthday girl wait for longer than she had already done. As soon as he moved away from you and pretended to return to his duties as chef, he lit the match and dropped it into the sea of sensual gasoline.

“You know that Y/N loves you, right?” Wooyoung shot through the silence, words sharper than a knife. Seonghwa turned his head to face the man beside him, only to see someone so nonchalant, almost bored, that he could not help but question the words. You were still, aside from the fingers that flittered across the counter, drumming as erratic as the one in your chest. 

“Ha, very funny, yeah.” he responded with forced joviality, trying to refocus on washing the dishes even though he knew this was futile. The rhythmic chopping stopped and out of the corner of his eye Seonghwa could see your boyfriend put the knife down onto the cutting board.

Rapidly placing the dish he had been scrubbing onto the drying rack, he cleared the space for Wooyoung to wash his hands. This new quiet wave, accompanied only by the running tap was more deafening, oppressive, all-consuming as the phrase echoed around Seonghwa’s mind. ‘She loves you’. This had to be some kind of test; Wooyoung was known for his tricks and banter, so it was not beyond him to spit out the wild notion just to see how his friend would react. For that extra bit of knowledge. But he gave away nothing, so he looked at you, and was pierced by your gaze. The dazzling eyes, galaxies enveloping him, drawing him in as if to command him to accept the question as the truth.

Wooyoung took his time, fully aware of the attention that was on him, and the growing distress in which Seonghwa found himself. But that only fuelled his desire to say nothing. To keep the suspicions and hope floating in the air and in his control, and have Seonghwa right where he wanted him, or more specifically, where you wished Seonghwa would be. Wooyoung watched as the water trickled over his skin, and let his mind wander. You were stood behind him, frozen in one spot as you ogled Seonghwa, waiting for any more words from him or from your boyfriend. Clutching onto a towel, you were attempting to curb and ignore the butterflies that flew to your stomach as you witnessed the change in your best friend’s eyes which could only be described as a deepset, long-concealed affection that had finally been given the opportunity to breathe. Perhaps there was a chance for change, just as Wooyoung had told you before Seonghwa’s arrival into your home. You had been explicit in your feelings when Wooyoung had asked you out, and truth be told, he had expected it; it had been surprising enough to discover that you were, in fact, single, and not on the verge of celebrating a honeymoon, so to hear that you harboured less than platonic feelings for your friend felt only natural.

Even if you had not told this to Wooyoung specifically, it was obvious: you changed when you were with Seonghwa. The very image of serenity, you carried yourself with unparalleled grace when he was by your side. Though you did let your playful and carefree self through, it was always less for companionship but for comfort that Seonghwa readily provided. He was an anchor for you. Your beacon of light that you trusted with your life and more. He was more than important - he was essential. Your clarity. Maybe if Wooyoung was foolish enough, and you had not revealed the longing you had for the taller man, he could have passed it off to be simply an example of platonic soulmates, two people who had gone through so much together that it was not possible for either of them to exist without the other. Not because they were dependent, but because they were one another’s ‘home’. It was clear that platonic boundaries had been long forgotten between you and Seonghwa, only a large question mark remaining, and neither of you daring to turn it into a full-stop and call things what they were. Wooyoung could see the yearning burning within you, how you hoped for your friend to take that next step any time you called or spent time together. Even in Wooyoung’s presence, you were unabashedly drawn to the other man, and that, interestingly enough, made him fall even deeper for you. Your unparalleled ability to give love astounded him to no end, and ignited within him the desire to provide, the desire to show you that you were more than worthy of not only his love, but the love of the first man who had become a part of your universe. Seonghwa simply needed a gentle nudge in the right direction, Wooyoung had decided, and he was the one who was going to give it - a birthday present from him to you, and a belated one for his friend.

"Listen. She. Loves. You. Isn't that right, hm?" You could only nod, attached to the scene unfolding before you with predator-like focus. Your boyfriend’s words: so simple, and yet so hard-hitting that you almost laughed at the shocked expression on Seonghwa’s face, only just barely being able to contain yourself as it transformed into one that oozed trepidation.

Wooyoung promptly shook the majority of the water droplets clinging onto his hands as he closed the tap, and methodically dried them with the towel hanging from a hook attached to the sink cupboard. He discreetly observed Seonghwa’s rising nerves, barely able to stifle the smirk, threatening to break out across his lips due to the satisfaction brought on by the suspense that he had conjured. Anxious, confused, but above all, timidly delighted in the sly off-handed comment. Without a doubt Seonghwa was trying to guess what Wooyoung had planned, and the latter could hardly contain his excitement. Perhaps in some ways, he was being selfish by being the instigator of something he too had been wishing for since you had started dating, but the older male’s burning stares and lingering gazes that had commenced as soon as he walked through the door into the apartment served as enough motivation - all that remained was the final spark.

He walked up to Seonghwa until he was in a dizzying proximity, scrutinising him through half-lidded eyes. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he beckoned the man to turn his head and face him, and asked you to come near with a quick flick of the other hand. Scoffing at the unceremonious expression of power, you bit your inner cheek to suppress a snarky remark, aware that Wooyoung was only working in your favour. Never before had you seen your best friend this on edge, simultaneously disoriented and yearning for more, glances darting from Wooyoung to you and back. Bored from the lack of a progression, your boyfriend decided to cease stalling.

"Right. How is it that you, and you, two pretty best friends, spend years together, and not once get with one another?" you could see the bobbing of Seonghwa’s larynx as he swallowed some spit. His eyebrows furrowed, and he tilted his head as though to check if you agreed with what was being said. Upon seeing no easily readable reaction, he muttered:

"What?"

"I can hear the gears moving in your head Seonghwa, what's your answer?" Wooyoung was not letting up, the tension getting to him, leaving the world a climbing haze. Every single one of his senses appeared to be elevated, accentuating every sound, every smell, every twitch of his muscles against his clothes. It was impossible to contain his contentment as he took not of his friend readjusting how he was standing, as if there was a certain physical discomfort beginning to give way. Wooyoung knew well enough as to what it could be, and as such, cut off every single one of Seonghwa’s attempts to steer the conversation in a different, lighter direction.

"To-"

"Do you love her too?"

"But-"

"Seonghwa, do you trust me?" seeing as the taller man was not letting himself reveal his desire to simply lock you in his arms, the need contained in his burning orbs only, Wooyoung decided to slightly switch tactics bringing in their closeness as friends, as two people ready to blur the lines in search of that sensual perfection.

"Of course."

And you know that I trust you too, right?"

"Mhm…"

"So?"

"I…" Seonghwa picked at the sleeve of his light blue sweater, unable to face you. He felt he was too close to ruining the years of friendship that had been so carefully built up, all because of Wooyoung. The man was surely joking, he had to be. In no way were you-

Your hand grazed his upper arm, forcing him to look back up and meet you. Ever so tender, ever so caring, it was as though you were admiring the starry night sky when you revered him - it was not too far from the truth, considering that this wondrous man was indeed, who you saw as your universe. As a keeper of stars, someone who you desperately wished would envelop you and adore you and let you and Wooyoung adore him just like you had wished, year in, year out.

"Did you short-circuit?" Wooyoung asked, voice dropping into a whisper.

"A bit."

"Time for extreme measures."

Eyes impossibly wide and cheeks going red, Seonghwa could only stop and stare as Wooyoung pulled him towards himself and plant a fervent kiss on his lips. Before he could push away the man had already pulled back with a satisfied smirk, only to turn to you and wink before leaning into another kiss. You swore you could taste Seonghwa on his lips, sweeter than you could ever imagine. Melting into the sensuality, you could feel excitement rising in your chest. The intensity heightened, and you felt your boyfriend's hands snake around your waist all the while, upon peeking, you saw Seonghwa's blazing, darkened orbs studying you. His expression was unreadable, first clenched, lips slightly parted, and only one question on his mind: 'how dare he?'

"So, how does he taste? Sweet, right?" Wooyoung asked you, voice laden with mischief and anticipation for what would be a dizzying paradise.

"Better than I could have ever imagined."

"So this was your plan?" Seonghwa broke the momentary silence, a newfound hostility with notes of unbelievably strong craving. His tone dropped lower, until it was all that you could focus on. One hand travelled to his lips, fingers cautiously touching them, in disbelief at what had just unfolded. With a smirk the man reached for you, forcing your arms to fall from your boyfriend’s shoulders, where they had found themselves when you kissed, pulling you close until his hips were pressed against you, revealing the true effect of Wooyoung’s teases.

"Ye-"

"Because it fucking worked, alright. To answer the question, yes, I do love you. Longer than he did. And yet here he is, pulling rank, huh?" giving Wooyoung a side-eye, he muttered. 

"Oh yes, of course Hwa."

"Well aren't you getting overly friendly..."

"Depending on what you are gonna do we're about to get even friendlier than that." Seonghwa took a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut. Barely audible, you backtracked, feverishly trying to explain the thought process, the story behind this little ploy, a wave of fear inching closer to you as you felt your friend’s fingers dig into your side, breathing becoming more ragged, shallower.

"Wooyoung and I had talked about this for the first time when we started dating. I need you Hwa. He needs you too. And… well… yeah. That is… our side of the story, so… I'm sorry we should have just sat you down and talked or something-"

"Seems you didn't get a good enough taste since you are still talking."

"Oh?" Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, the switch in his friend's attitude catching him pleasantly off-guard.

"Tell me what's my limit." Seonghwa addressed you, his face barely an inch away from yours, hot breath against your skin, leaving you aching for more, for him to take the final step and let your history burn.

"None."

"Neither of you?" he looked at Wooyoung, who was observing with a wolfish grin, hand running through his hair.

“I think we have all waited long enough.”

In a matter of a single moment, a spark, Seonghwa’s lips were on yours, leading you into the paradise which you had been isolating exclusively to your musings. It was intoxicating, all-consuming, making you feel as though nothing else existed, and that you had been given the power to embrace the universe itself, the explosive pleasure of being in rhythmic bliss with the man you had longed for proving to be almost too much. And yet, you needed more, of him, of his touch, of his presence right against you. A soft moan escaped you as he deepened the kiss, which only led to him pressing himself into you, barely stopping you from stumbling back.

Wooyooung, satisfied with himself, and with the scene unfolding before him, reached out to push back a stray lock of black hair from Seonghwa’s face, suggesting that they take this to somewhere more comfortable. Breaking away, both of you looked at the shorter man, eyes clouded, lustful, and you took his hand, squeezing it in gratitude and let yourself be guided to your wildest dream that had previously been deemed unobtainable.

"Oh no no, tonight this pretty cunt is mine. You're going to prep her for me, Woo, while I see what she can do here..."

Seonghwa ran a finger over your jawline, his other hand at the base of his cock, pumping it a couple of times. Obediently, Wooyoung followed the instruction and moved so that he was right next to your pussy, admiring just how slick it already was by running two fingers between your lips, stopping at your clit to rub a few circles, highlighting its erectness. You whined at the feeling, trying to grind into his hand in the hopes of more contact, but Seonghwa prevented you from asking for any more by grasping your jaw and guiding you onto his dick, sighing as you took his length. Stopping midway as he felt your throat constrict, he asked you:

“You okay? Need a break? So gone already?” counting your breaths, you leaned back to whisper that you were more than fine, moaning when Wooyoung licked a stripe up your pussy and stopped to suck on your clit, to be silenced as Seonghwa’s member pressed against your lips, and slid into the warmth. 

With every moan all but muted, you were a whimpering mess to which Seonghwa was already addicted. He was enthralled by how you responded to Wooyoung’s every touch, how you relaxed your throat to let him rock into you bit by bit. When his friend’s tongue curled into your heat, lapping at you to the point when a light tremble started in your legs, Seonghwa reached for your hand, squeezing it in reassurance and earning a loving glance from you. The contrast between the adorable shimmer in your eyes and the lewd act was more than enough to twist his world on its axis. As an orgasm ripped through you, with Wooyoung relentlessly pumping into you with his digits and flicking your aroused bud with his tongue, you moaned over Seonghwa’s member. He bit his lip, forcing himself to ease out, and let you regain some composure. He wiped the corners of your mouth with his thumb in an attempt to remove a bit of the dribble, a smile dancing on his lips.

"You are so beautiful, my sweet. Thank you. Can you still take care of him?" voice ever so soft, he inquired, every decision still being left to you. You mumbled in approval of the action, and watched as Wooyoung rose to meet you.

Barely having recovered, you were eager to pay your boyfriend back, giving one last glance to Seonghwa’s member, coated in a layer of your spit mixed with pre-cum as he crawled on his knees away from you, to position himself at your entrance. While he teased your pulsing cunt, running his digits between your folds and letting his tip flick your sensitive bud, Wooyoung was in front of you, demonstratively licking his lips to show how he devoured every bit of your nectar, his cock stiff in his hands, begging for attention which you were more than ready to provide.

“Hwa-a… ah!” you mewled, nearly collapsing on your back as Seonghwa slowly entered you, his hips pressed against yours, giving you some time to adjust to his length. The feeling of another cock, aside from your boyfriend’s, filling you up so well and building you up regardless of having just come over Wooyoung’s mouth was stupefying, and it seemed that all you could recall in that moment was your best friend’s name. 

Having had enough, Wooyoung guided your focus back to him, tapping you below your chin. A series of apologies fell from your lips, making the man chuckle as he reminded you that there was only one way to apologise in this case. Without needing any more elaboration, you ran your tongue over his leaking hole, lapping up the pre-release, and took him in, sighing at the feeling of being full of both Wooyoung and Seonghwa.

“What a good girl, devouring my cock like this- ah…” Wooyoung praised, brushing strands away, lazily observing you as you bobbed your head back and forth, interrupted only by Seonghwa hitting your g-spot, eliciting salacious moans. 

“She really is perfect… Y/N, you’re just so perfect for my dick.”

“Oh look at her falling apart, Hwa. You are fucking her so well.”

“So well she can’t even help you out?” he taunted you, knowing full well that the comment could only lead to one thing and one thing only. Wooyoung smirked, taking a fistful of your hair, causing you to look up at him with watery orbs as he warmed his cock in your mouth. The sight nearly tipped him over the edge, a twitch threatening an oncoming wave of pleasure. But he could not come, at least not before he could show his friend just how much of him you could take.

“Let’s show him just how well this throat can take me, yeah?” and upon seeing a small nod, pushed his length deeper, tensing as your tongue and teeth lightly grazed every vein and his tip hit your uvula and the back of your throat.

It was challenging to restrain himself from thrusting into you when you looked so marvellous, nose pressed against him, relaxing yourself to take him whole, despite Seonghwa repeatedly sheathing inside you, bringing you closer and closer to your own ruin. It was the fact that you were still so attentive, so caring towards him, equally as loving and being so unbelievably good that made Wooyoung fall even more in love with you. How you let him guide you over his cock, trusting his movements and his sensations completely, caring for his pleasure. How the introduction of Seonghwa, your first and ongoing love, did nothing to stop your adoration for Wooyoung. You truly were one of a kind, his galaxy, the keeper of the flame. It was not long until his climax reached him, pleasure searing through as his hand kept you frozen so that you would not choke as his cum painted your mouth.

Swallowing the last of Wooyoung’s hot orgasm, you yelped over the softening member as Seonghwa picked up his pace, demanding your full attention. The vibration caused Wooyoung to let out a low groan and tightened his grip on your hair momentarily, another string of release shooting into the back of your throat, nearly making you sputter. Cooing at your state, he tugged you back ever so carefully, hissing as your tongue gave his cock a final swipe, and murmured:

“Hwa, let me support her, yeah? She likes it when you go deep into her pussy, don’t you?” giving you a light pat, almost mockingly, Wooyoung sat on the bed behind you, holding you in place so that Seonghwa did not need to worry about you slipping, and instead focus on the relentless rhythm. You could not respond as the knot in your core grew tighter and tighter with every thrust. Every one of Seonghwa’s low moans that reached you was a lascivious melody, so erotic that all you could hope for was for him to never even consider stopping.

Positioned between the two men, you were in a soothing mindlessness, having the ability and the trust to give yourself up to them, let them love you. Every touch on your skin was an intimate, sensual flame, unwinding you, prompting you to gift them your very soul. You felt Wooyoung’s member brushing against your ass as you were jolted back by Seonghwa’s movements, the sensation proving to be impossible to handle as your climax approached at a startling speed. Gripping Wooyoung’s arms which had positioned themselves on your waist, his veins etching a design into your palms and leaving you breathless, you felt the wave crashing over you, sinking you into an unprecedented euphoria. Your body shook violently as your orgasm drowned out any sound, and you swore you could count the stars in your eyes as Seonghwa continued his motions, mercilessly in love with how your soaked, clenching pussy felt around his throbbing length.

“Ah… fuck, love, I-” 

“Hwa- please-”

Seonghwa continued pounding into you with reckless abandon, each thrust leaving you practically senseless as your orgasm had been long-surpassed, the overwhelming trembling of your every nerve, every muscle as your core was caught ablaze with the overstimulation completely wiping your ability to form a single coherent thought. Wooyoung groaned from the sight of Seonghwa’s downcast eyes, looking at nothing or looking within, ecstatic, and the wanton sounds of his cock pistoning into your wet pussy, hands moving to knead your breasts and pinch your erect nipples. You cried out from the added sensation, head falling back and over Wooyoung’s shoulder as Seonghwa slowed to a stuttered, faltering grind, his own climax imminent. 

“Y/N, my lo- I’m-” you heard him over your own whines, and in a matter of seconds he bucked into you one final time, almost falling towards you as your still-pulsating walls milked his release. He let out a shaky breath as his cum filled your sex, the warmth and fullness driving you to the brink of consciousness. Tentatively moving his hips, he fucked the load into you, groaning as he felt it leak out, completing the lewd scene.

“So… so gorgeous, Y/N…” He mumbled, kissing you once, twice as the ripples of pleasure overtook him entirely… “Woo… thank- mfph- thank you…”

“It’s us three now, hm?” Wooyoung responded, amazed at just how much Seonghwa had been holding back, and how brilliant it was to uncover the tandem that was now you and your two loves.

Trailing kisses on your neck as Wooyoung continued to hold you, his chest flush against your back as you rode out your high, dazed and in an ethereal bliss. Slow circles on your hips as Seonghwa pressed his forehead against yours, soothing your light tremble as he pulled out of you, the last rivulets of cum dripping onto your pubic bone. Unable to sustain the position any longer, legs having grown weak as the adrenaline subsided he gave into Wooyoung’s guidance as the man slinked away from you, laying you down onto the bed, and motioned for Seonghwa to do the same. In the quietude, you three remained in one another’s arms, only the steadying breathing and bare skin covered in a glistening sheen of sweat reminding you that this was all a stunning reality.

As you detangled from one another, Wooyoung and Seonghwa gave you one last, gentle peck on the cheek each before whispering amongst themselves. As you lay on the bed sheets, surrounded by the aura of lovemaking, unfocused gaze peering at the dark ceiling, you felt a clean towel going over your body, only to see Seonghwa gingerly caressing each limb, planting one kiss, another. When he noticed that you were watching him, he threw you a big dopey grin, only to mumble out words of adoration. He kept you grounded with his presence, his feathery touches, while Wooyoung rushed through re-dressing and picking out something comfortable for you to wear. Once done, the two men changed places, with the latter now tending to you and helping you get dressed, barely suppressing a smile as he let a large hoodie fall over your body. When you gave him an endearing thumbs up, hands barely peeking from the sleeves, he playfully lunged to hug you and make you fall back onto the bed, giggling airily into your ear and trying to wrap you up even tighter. Seonghwa joined you not long after, and you were caught in between two heavens, safe, adored, the intricacies of the world around you finally making sense as both Wooyoung and Seonghwa illuminated them. The stars in the sky, the flames on the earth, they completed you just as you completed them, and this was something that you would never wish to give up. They were here for you. You were here for them. This was your wish, a wish that had finally come true. For you, for Wooyoung, for Seonghwa.

“So… shall we have that cake then… at least?” you whispered into the darkness, immediately hearing rustling to either side of you, and a soft sigh from Wooyoung, breath tickling your ear as he inched a little closer, only to tease:

“But didn’t we just have dessert-”

“Wooyoung!” the yelp only seemed to amuse your two loves as they chuckled, with Seonghwa moving to push a few strands of your hair back, and reveal his glimmering orbs that managed to catch the light from the window, curtains undrawn and letting the city lights inside, giving the impression that the universe truly was in his those two windows to the soul. Your breath hitched as you gazed at him, head resting on his palm, as he wondered whether he was dreaming, the mumble slipping out automatically:

“He’s right. You’re sweet, Y/N.”

“Oh my goodness-”

You turned your head, only to feel soft fingers cupping your chin and pulling you into a slow, gentle kiss. Eyes fluttering shut, you sank into Seonghwa once again, the idea of him loving you back and wanting to be with you, accepting your other love who had his hand lazily thrown around your waist and face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, it was all so surreal that you were afraid to even take a peek.

“But we do have a kitchen to clean though...” you groaned, shaking your head at the choice of comment. Wooyoung was quicker to react, snuggling more closely and muttering:

“Now that can wait-”

“...and a wish to make.” Seonghwa elaborated, cutting Wooyoung’s complaints short, and lying down to hug you, arm lying atop the other man’s, drawing circled on your skin where the top into which you had changed had ridden up, “Let’s celebrate our birthday girl.”

Our. The word rang in your ears and wriggled its way into your mind, a new star shining in your sky, enveloping you, revering you through the creation of a paradise to which you thought there were no gates nor glimpses. The simple word - a spark of a lighter, eradicating shadows of doubt and setting the soul ablaze with newfound passion and excitement, turning your birthday into a renaissance celebrating love.

Even if you had not even made your wish yet, it was obvious. You were yourself when you were with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, and you wanted nothing more but for this bond to grow into a loving intuition. You looked up from the cake, in the middle of which was a glowing candle, and admired the two men, illuminated by the warm flickering light. How they had huddled closer to one another, with Seonghwa attempting to discreetly point out to Wooyoung that he should adjust the angle at which he held his phone to capture the precious moment. How blissful, relaxed they appeared to be as they ceased their quiet arrangement, only to return your gaze. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you read nothing but adoration in their eyes, and you clenched the material of the hoodie into which the two had insisted you change, trying to steady your breathing.

Reading your actions, your best friend, turned lover, nodded in reassurance, leaning closer towards you by resting his head on a propped up hand, while Wooyoung gave you a bright smile and threw an arm around Seonghwa’s shoulders, nearly making him lose balance. The action did not seem to phase the older man in the slightest, as he simply pressed his tongue against the corner of his mouth and rolled his eyes in mock vexation, only to break out into an equally heart-melting grin. Neither rushed you, appreciating your need to take in the change, entranced by your loving peace. This new dynamic had indeed been something of a dream, and you thought that it was going to remain that way until you would be forced to forget, or live in an illusion of loving less. But now you found yourself, for the first time in some years, thinking of new wishes, musing the steps ahead.

As you blew out the fire, and motioned for the two to not turn the lights on quite yet, you were at peace. Nothing felt more right than observing Seonghwa standing up to gingerly remove the candle and slice the cake, and receiving a peck on the cheek from Wooyoung, who was now hovering over your left shoulder, fingers playing with your hair. The puzzle pieces had fallen into place, and you, like three beautiful stars, had formed a stunning constellation. In a world so fast-paced and lonely, you were surrounded by a miraculous, unconditional love - two people who not only adored you, but adored your ability to love them both equally, and in turn, love the universe. With you, they felt as though they had found their home, and were more than willing to maintain the intricate balance.

With the pair moving their chairs around the table to sit on either side of you, the action, albeit carried out serenely, quietly, expressed a boyish excitement for the development, and the way in which they seeked even more closeness with you, be it by purposefully leaning to reach for a meaningless item across the table, or by resting an arm on the back of the chair, only confirmed their shared adoration. Under the full moon that greeted you from the outside with a silvery blue sheen, you found a comfortable stillness, and as the two men raised their heads to follow your gaze to the view outside, hoped that your new wish, one for three, for years to come, would come true too.

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[sillyblues]

the ocean and the wind. (5)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ synopsis: tonowari is the ocean and ronal is the wind. where does it leave you?

ੈ✩‧₊˚ notes: reader is so lucky you have a support group but it's a good thing you are not that blind right?? anyways lmk your thoughts and which parts were your favorite i make sure to read all of your comments and rbs btw sometimes i just don't reply smts bc i got busy but yeah i appreciate every notes you leave!!

part 1 ✩ part 2 ✩ part 3 ✩ part 4 ✩ part 5 (here!) ✩ part 6 ✩ part 7 (final part)

The wind guides the ocean and wherever the ocean goes, the wind is there. The two cannot exist without the other for only together, they create the most beautiful peaceful calmness or the strongest violent storm.

Between the two, where does it leave you?

None. Of course, there is no place for you. You are nothing to them. You are not even a speck of particle that the air carries or the smallest piece of sand that the sea touches.

They were the source of your greed, your guilt and shame, but you were wrong. You are the shameful and disgraceful one. You who dared to overstep your boundaries. You who dared to desire them.

Humiliation burns your skin and chars your heart and remorse fills your lungs with smoke and suffocates you. You let it ablaze and reduce your heart to a pile of ashes and glowing embers that burn you inside out.

Your ache stings and brings forth droplets of salty tears that do nothing to extinguish your pyre.

"Ma’evi, what pains you so?" Your Sa'nok cradles you to her chest and sways you gently. Tears sprung out of her eyes as she puts your head on the crook of her neck. Like a furious river, you tremble and no rocks could stop your overflow as you sob.

Your muffled wails fill your home. You cry and cry undeserving tears you didn't notice when your father had come inside, only the warmth of another embrace and soft pats on your back.

“Cry it all out to us, my dear, and we will cry with you.” Do you dare to tell them? Do you dare to tell them of a horrible daughter you are? Do you dare to tell them of the sins you have committed?

“Let us see you, my child,” your mother tucks the strands of your hair that stick to your face into your ear. “Let us bear your pain instead,”

You don’t dare say anything and let their touch lull you to your sleep.

.

.

.

“The Olo’eyktan have announced that the Iknimiya will be held in a few days because of the auspicious sign of the return of our brothers and sisters,” your mother gently says as she cuts some food. You all sit on the floor as you eat. You didn’t want to eat with them at first, preferring to sleep the rest of the day away, but your parents have been concerned since your walls shattered in front of them. “Truth be told, your Sempul and I think you are ready.”

Your father hums as he offers you a bite from his hand and you eat it.

“Yes, we can see how independent you are already. You are even a greater hunter than I am now,” he jokes and your eyes waver at the effort he puts into making you feel better each day ever since your walls broke down in front of them. You smile and joke weakly in return.

“Am I now?”

“Mhm, an even better healer than me as well. I think you would make a great Tsahik,” you freeze at that. Memories of Ronal and Tonowari rush through your head and your hand trembles in place when you reached your hand for food. You quickly pulled back and lightly clasped your hands together, hiding your palms away from them.

Tsahik. Ronal is much suited for the position. She is more suited as Tonowari’s mate and Tonowari is more suited for her. Their bond is like no other after all. You would not be surprised should they choose each other when they complete their Iknimiya, Letsakx made a good job of waking you up from the blindness of their attraction for each other, which will happen soon. Very soon. And soon, you will have to live with your closest friends’ love that does not include you.

You hum, not daring to speak for fear you might stutter and they will hear the shakiness of your voice. They are very keen and observant. Perhaps they already have an inkling of what you feel. Of what you have thought. And what you have done.

“But Ma’evi, we are not saying this because we want you to complete your Iknimaya now,” your mother says as she takes the knife and plate away and gets closer to all of you three. She holds your hand in hers and looks at you with so much softness and your father squeezes your other hand with such gentleness that you feel yourself tearing up but you hold it down. “We do not want you to do it if you yourself do not feel ready.”

“Take your time, my dear, we will be always waiting here for you.” Really, you don’t deserve your parents. They don’t deserve a child like you. But the love they have for you is great and you find yourself squeezing their hands.

You find yourself letting them see you.

.

.

.

The day of Iknimaya has come and all of the men, women, and children had gathered on the central island. Many young hunters participated in this coming-of-age ritual. You are among them, along with your other friends and some you knew from one of your classes back then and of course, Tonowari and Ronal. They had been trying to get close to you, but you only smile painfully so.

“Are you alright now, [Name]? I haven’t seen you in so long!” Tonowari says to you with concern swimming in his bright blue eyes and your heart flutters at the thought that you were his subject of worry, but you are quickly reminded that you are not his. Ronal touches you and inspects you carefully as she circles around you for wounds that you might have. Your battered heart trembles under her keen gaze that looks only at you for the moment but you are quickly reminded that you are not hers.

“Your mother told us that you had gotten ill, are you sure you can join this Iknimaya?” your mother told everyone who asked about you an excuse for your absence. You realize that with you, they touch a lot and the ache grows for they caress you not because they want you as you want them. You smile bitterly.

“Yes, I want to do this,” you gently take their hands off of you, “Let’s talk again later, hm? My friends have been calling me.”

You send them a smile and return to your group of friends. You did not look back as you promised, despite the greed that claws you inside out. Your friends exclaim in surprise and joy at your presence. Some hug and some send a smile towards you.

But it’s okay, you think as you converse with them, this is a lesson you must learn and you would never dare to disappoint Eywa or everyone else again.

It wasn’t long until the ritual formally started and you find yourselves in the sea with water halfway up to your legs. The Olo’eyktan started his speech moments ago about the history and importance of your coming-of-age ritual, his gaze heavy with pride for all of you.

“Young hunters, it is time,” the Olo’eyktan says as he looks at each one of you, “It is time for you to become a true Na’vi. A true Metkayina.”

“Show us that you can handle the mighty and strong roars of the ocean by taming a Skimwing. Show us your worthiness by bonding with your spiritual brothers and sisters. Show us that you deserve the symbols inked into your skin.” He stomps and you all stomp. You all let out sounds of gruff and puffs with the tongues of the men out and the lips of the women pursed down.

Now, you watch as one by one, the names of the others are called out and they tame the Skimwing. You stare as Tonowari chooses the biggest one with the brightest orange spots that decorated its wings. You stare as he takes a quick glance at you and blinks while he turns away to look at Ronal. He sends her a reassuring smile and none for you. Your heart is silent as you watch him successfully tame his Skimwing and swim through the fast currents and return so proud and so imposing.

You stare as Ronal chooses the calmest one with calming green spots that adorn its wings. You stare as she looks at you with firm eyes that you could not read. She turns to Tonowari and nods at him. A part of you is scared that you do not know her well anymore and a part of you bleeds out at the confirmation that only Tonowari can truly see and understand her. Your heart fades away as you watch her gracefully soar and dance with the wind and return smoothly with such elegance.

Your turn has come and you look at the Skimwings that paid no mind to you. But there was one that looked back at you and swims slowly toward you. You let out a silent giggle to yourself. Would you let me see you? You hummed as you questioningly looked at it. It touches your hand with its head and makes you pat it as if saying, If you would let me.

You swing your leg over its body and sat on its back. You take your queue from behind and formed Tsaheylu with your Skimwing. The feeling momentarily blinds you before you become hyper-aware of the water that surrounds both of you, your weight on its back, and its feelings.

You both swim gently until the pace becomes faster. You both dive deep into the ocean and see the shoals of fish that swim past you, the sways of the underwater forests that glow so brightly, and the calmness of the water that leaves you breathless of its beauty.

You swim back to the surface and put your feet on its behind and crouch down, your grip hard on its tie. Your Skimwing jumps and unfolds its wings and you laugh breathlessly as you let the wind kiss your skin, its rustle cheering you on as you soar through the sky.

But it is time for you to return. As you come back, you immediately miss the ocean and the wind. After this, no more, you promised yourself, No more.

The bonding with the Tulkun soon followed after. Everyone went to the sides of their respective spiritual brother and sister and they all look so excited. Everyone was filled to the brim with joy but you, your nerves leave you trembling slightly.

Greetings, sister, you signed with a small smile hoping she would forgive you for only coming to see her today and not as soon as they arrived.

How dare you come at me only now? Is this what you see of me, just a way for you to complete your Iknimaya? Well, you are wrong! I will not bend over to your wishes so easily! she moaned in annoyance at you and sways you off gently.

You don’t think she could even bend but you just hugged her and buried your face against her beautiful skin that you would fawn at each time but you wouldn’t bring yourself to now. I’m sorry, sister. You don’t have to make Tsaheylu for me, I understand.

She pauses and was silent for a while.

…What pains you so, sister? Who dares to give you such pain? she hums at you, covering you with one of her fins and lets you hide. Tears escape your eyes and you sob silently underwater. Fear comes back and it overflows your lungs and shame burns your body hot despite the coolness of the water. 

Lend me your suffering and let me suffer with you. Let me see you, sister. You look at her in shock and disbelief. Despite that you have wronged her, she still wants to see you. 

She wants to see you. She wants to see your pain. She wants to see your fear. She wants to see your shame. Do you dare to let someone know of your sins? Your immoral thoughts and greed?

You look at your sister with only you in her eyes and she blinks softly at you.

You find yourself letting her see you.

She opens her mouth and you enter inside. Her queue comes down almost immediately and you almost laugh at how she truly wants to bond with you, even if it happened in an unfortunate circumstance you caused. You take your own and hold the end part of it, letting its tendrils connect to her glowing golden queue.

You close your eyes and your sisters’ memories rush through you. Her birth, her parents, her family, you see it. The joyous moments that contain you beside her, you see it. One particular moment was when you swam through the deep ocean and talked about the most mundane thing with her, lasting for even hours until you two have to breathe the surface’s air again. Her huntings as they travel outside your clan, you see it. Her first hunt without you and how she felt lonely without you by her side to congratulate you.

Now, you see her current emotions as she sees you. She’s distraught. Sad. In pain. But she is with you and your heart (or whatever is left of it) warms.

Oh, my sister, she whines and sobs. Her body vibrates and you feel yourself crying with you as well. My poor sister. You don’t deserve any of this. You don’t deserve this.

You think of the ocean and the wind once more, breaking your promise to yourself for the millionth time. The wind guides the ocean and wherever the ocean goes, the wind is there. The two cannot exist without the other for only together, they create the most beautiful peaceful calmness or the strongest violent storm.

Today, you have seen how great they are. And how well they suit each other. How Ronal’s grace matches Tonowari’s pride. How Tonowari’s imposing presence matches Ronal’s elegant strides. 

Today, you have seen what great Olo’eyktan and Tsahik will become. You have seen how far they are out of your reach and what your place will be for the years that will come by.

For between the two, there leaves none for you.

series-taglist: (tags in blue means tumblr won't let me mention you, please let me know if you changed usernames!) @totesnothere04 @ducks118 @narutoboi @yeosxxx @fanboyluvr @ladylovegood-69 @northsoulss @thatfictionalwh0re @ghostlyworld @toodaloo432 @lovefromjazzy @greendino7 @neteyamforlife @vermilionzombie @vxncxntt @adaiasafira @tsuteysyawntu @mooniequeen @eywas-heir

#blue writes! ✧˖*°࿐ #avatar #avatar angst #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #ronal x you #ronal x reader #tonowari x reader #tonowari x you #atwow #atwow angst #avatar 2

[beelsbignaturals]

HoL and their preferred cuddling styles?

AN: omg posting twice a day look at me go! I WAS gonna queue this but I have no patience sometimes. Also lmk if anyone is interested in a part two with the undateables!

😴SNUGGLY DEMONS💗

Lucifer wants to be the little spoon so damn bad but would rather die than admit it. Please just hold him. If you can ignore his grumbles of "Honestly, MC, I am not a child!" One of two things will happen. Either you let go, to which Luci will respond with an indignant. "I didn't say you could stop." Or if you are a little more persistent, after a small huff, Lucifer will relax in your arms. Regardless, you will have an all-powerful demon melting into your embrace by the end of it. He also enjoys when you plop yourself down on his lap while he deals with another never-ending mountain of paperwork. Don't worry, he's happy to work around you if you just promise to stay. It makes the long hours much more tolerable. 

Mammon loves resting his head on you, using your body as a pillow. Doesn't matter if it's your chest, thighs, stomach, or shoulder. You are the great Mammon's personal headrest. That is your sole purpose in life. Why does he like it so much? Well, aside from the fact it usually leads to your hands gently massaging his scalp, it also means he only has to tilt his head just a little to press a quick kiss to your skin. If you do the same, laying your head against him while watching a movie or just in general, Mammon will probably freeze for a moment before his hands find themselves in your hair. 

Leviathan is way too embarrassed and also just overwhelmed by physical contact at first. If you want any hope of something that resembles cuddling before you have managed to convince Levi you're not pretending to be into him as a joke, you will need to initiate. Try linking your arm through his while he is playing on his NintenDevil Switch. He'll short-circuit but recover when you say you just want to watch him play. He can only handle so much tactile stimulation before he taps out and needs to lay in the dark for 1-3 business days to recharge so please just… when he shakes you off without blushing and stuttering that's your cue to listen. Once Levi is comfortable enough with you to sleep in either your room or his bedtub, you become his replacement body pillow. Sometimes, he will subconsciously wrap his tail around you in his sleep.

Satan tends to sit in strange positions while reading so honestly, just… wherever you can fit. Find a way to squeeze into his arms without blocking the book, and you're golden. He's upside-down with his legs over the back of the couch? Lay your head on his stomach. Sitting like some sort of contortionist? Wrap your arms around him from behind. Sitting like a normal person for once? That is an invitation, my friend! It's his way of saying, "Get over here and cuddle me now or else." He tends to stay up late reading so… if you are the type to cuddle at night, I will pray for your poor spine.

Asmodeus loves you, but he needs space. Beauty sleep is important! If you share a bed, he wants to hold your hand to feel close to you, but he has to lay on his back so his overnight mask can do its thing without making a mess. You will just need to get by with entwining your fingers with his as you both drift off. He's happy to cuddle up with you any other time, though! If you are lounging anywhere, your lap is fair game for the Avatar of Lust. He can and will sit on your lap regardless of the situation. It's his favorite spot, after all. 

For practical reasons, Beelzebub prefers to cuddle you in a way that, when he inevitably gets up for a midnight snack, it won't disturb you too much. But if it won't bother you too much, he loves it when you lay on his chest. He will even go the extra mile and carry you along for his late night kitchen raids. He's strong enough that he can hold you in one arm and his food in the other. Also! Cuddling so that his arms are wrapped around you and you are curled up against him, facing the demon. For the love of all that is good in this world! Just let the man hold you! Beel is just a giant teddy bear. Like the one from ikea. Feel free to initiate cuddles any time, any place. Just watch out for an annoyed Belphie who is not impressed you took his spot as Beel's favorite cuddle buddy.

Belphegor moves around so much in his sleep. The ONLY way to stop this is to fully lay your entire weight on top of him. Like a living, breathing weighted blanket. Careful though, he might get so used to your presence that he will demand you join him because he's just oh so tired but he can't sleep without you sprawled out, completely crushing the demon underneath you. Alas, sometimes your efforts are for naught, and in the middle of the night, sloth incarnate has completely flipped the two of you. And… somehow, he's also upside-down? It's rather hard to sleep with a kneecap digging into your ribs. The picture you managed to get of Belphie hugging your legs like a teddy bear is totally worth it.

#om! shall we date #obey me #obey me mc #obey me x reader #shrimp writes #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphie x reader

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Lover's Spat

Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader

Summary: You had been the prized protege of the household for some time, but a sudden distance leaves you reeling. What happens when a junior killer feels neglected? Short answer: a bloody tantrum.

Word Count: 3.4k words

Warnings: DARK CONTENT, MINORS DNI, heavy angst and whump, graphic depictions of violence, graphic depictions of gore, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non-sexual nudity, injuries, inebriation, use of sedatives, use of restraints, threats, mentions of blood, bit of a power imbalance yeah, corrupted reader, use of she/her pronouns, lmk if anything else!

A/N: Special thanks to @glitchedpup -- my muse and co-creator of this delightfully dark fic <3 i couldn’t have done it without you!! Pretty proud of this one! I shouldn't even have to say this but I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE ACTIONS DEPICTED IN THIS FIC. IT IS NOT A REFLECTION OF MY OWN MORALS/VALUES. Don't like don't read, as usual.

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– “Decipher me, my love, or I will be forced to destroy you.”  Clarice Lispector, from “The Book of Delights”.

The room was a complete mess. 

Upturned furniture, slashed curtains, and deep gouges on various surfaces. Rorschach stains of crimson fury stained the walls and the once pristine white bed sheets. Bits of bone and flesh were haphazardly strewn about like broken puzzle pieces. 

There had clearly been quite the struggle — terror and brute strength versus agility and sheer animal determination. 

The mutilated corpse of a man was splayed atop the bed. His chest had been torn open, ribs smashed to pieces in order to access his tender insides. His eyes were closed and his hands had been crudely tied together, palms facing up – like a supplicant. His heart was cupped in them, with a paring knife driven straight through it.

A crime of passion, through and through. But the man himself was inconsequential, merely a vessel to convey a message.

At first, Will didn’t register anything amiss. There were a few small clues here and there that were familiar, like a trail of breadcrumbs left behind for only the most trained eye to find. His eye, more specifically.

They led him closer to the body, where he recognized the fine mother-of-pearl handle of the knife. Suddenly, he could barely hear the voices of those around him. Cold fear momentarily ran like sludge through his veins, but he kept his composure.

This was your design. 

He’d known you were under Hannibal’s tutelage, but it was uncharacteristic of you to be so rash and utterly careless. Not once before had you left a trace, but then again, you’d never worked outside of Hannibal’s house.

He’d thought you’d mastered clinical detachment, but this scene was tainted with ire and resentment. It permeated the air like a poisonous gas, roiling in his lungs and threatening to choke him.

“Will?” Jack said, getting his attention. “Any motive you can think of?”

Shaking off the last of his visions, Will took a small fortifying breath and glanced back at him over his shoulder.

“None as of yet.” 

Will knew there’d be many components to cleaning up this mess. Not only would he have to get the police far off your trail, but he also had to find you. He called Hannibal to inquire about your whereabouts, but he confirmed you were not home. He tried to get ahold of you too, but of course, there was no response.

Once he could disentangle himself from Jack and the crime scene crew – trying to keep his hands from shaking – he racked his brain for all the possible places you could be in. He knew you liked going on long walks, but you preferred to stay away from densely populated areas unless strictly necessary. The woods were too broad a place to search, and there was no way you had made it all the way to Wolf Trap on foot.

Then, he remembered the old apartment you’d lived in before he and Hannibal took you in. It was a shoddy building on the outskirts of town, which he was pretty sure had been foreclosed for a while. Still, it was the only other place you had, really. So he made his way there.

There, he spotted a hole in the chain link fence surrounding the building. He ignored the No Trespassing sign, much like he figured you had, and maneuvered himself through the gap. He made his way up to the third floor, where your unit was, and heard murmurs behind the door.

He found you half naked and rambling, still caked in blood and viscera. In one hand, you were tightly clutching a large kitchen knife, a ribbon of fabric clinging to it. Much of your clothes were in tatters, ripped apart like you’d been desperate to get them off of yourself.

In your other hand, you had an unlabelled bottle of what he assumed was cheap vodka or gin. You were swaying a little in place, clearly inebriated. You held it to your swollen cheekbone, as if the tepid glass could soothe it.

A dark bruise bloomed up the right side of your ribcage, and your breaths were shallow and slow. On the other side, near your belly button, you had a poorly dressed wound, the fabric soaked in dark, shiny crimson. His eyes lingered on this detail for a moment, but his face did not betray the concern he felt.

It was a clear admission of guilt, but he wanted to hear you confess your sins out loud. 

“What did you do?” He asked, keeping his voice low and even.

You lifted your head and looked at him without really seeing him. Your gaze was flat and unforgiving, almost unrecognizable. A small blood vessel had burst in your left eye, leaving a red splotch in the sclera. Your muscles tensed and your nostrils flared when you registered him as an intruder.

His hand was close to his waist, where his gun was holstered, in case he’d need to draw it.

“I took him for one last waltz, carried him in my arms as the saccharine wine of his blood spilled over us.” You closed your eyes for a moment, as if reliving it. “He adored me deliriously with his last breaths. I saw it in his eyes.”

Will took a step forward, causing a floorboard to creak, and your eyes snapped open. You slashed the knife in a wide arc, silently warning him to stay back. Your eyes were wild and unfocused, much too dark in the low light. 

You swung sideways just as fast, the blade barely missing his midsection. He quickly drew back at your third frantic attempt, and you stumbled forward a little. Despite your skills and abundant bravado, both the drunkenness and the pain made you clumsy. You winced, but did not back down, still in a fighting stance.

He pulled out his gun and pointed it at your shoulder, which made you freeze.

“Hannibal’s going to be pissed if I shoot you,” he said, unfazed by your display. “Put the knife down before you get hurt.”

“You don’t have the guts to hurt me, Graham,” you sneered.

“Try me.”

For a long, tense moment, the two of you stared at each other. It was clear that neither of you actually wanted to hurt the other, but your pride wasn’t going to let you go down so easily. 

And you knew that he wouldn’t hesitate if it came down to it, especially for your own good.

“He knows, then?” You asked, still unmoving.

Will simply nodded, and for a brief second, you considered angling the knife towards yourself. You started to adjust your grip on it, and he took the opportunity to lunge forward and knock it out of your hand. It clattered loudly on the floor, and he kicked it away, grabbing your wrist.

“You’re in deep trouble, you know that?” He said, grip tightening. “What if they hadn’t called me? You left evidence everywhere! Do you know how hard it was to hide all that without getting caught? Reckless! Very reckless!”

You tried to struggle out of his grip, and he knocked the bottle out of your grasp, which shattered on the floor. As you lifted your hand to strike him, he grabbed it, now holding both of your wrists.

“Don’t touch me! You don’t get to touch me!” You spat, still thrashing.

“Oh, I beg to differ. But I’m not going to be the one to punish you,” he said, forcefully turning you around and cuffing your hands behind your back. “Now, let’s go.”

He took his jacket off and draped it over your shoulders before ushering you out of the building. He had to steady you as you stumbled about, still furious and not entirely lucid. Even the familiar scent of him enveloping you did nothing to calm you.

He wrestled you into the back seat and made sure you wouldn’t be able to unlock the doors from the inside. For the time being, you resigned to lying on your side, slightly easing the discomfort of your shoulder blades being pinned together.

“Where are we going?” You asked as he started the engine.

“Home,” he said, glancing at you from the rearview mirror. “As you know, we’re expected.”

The drive there was torturous. Every turn made your head spin, the world outside the window swirling into a dizzying whirlpool of colors. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breathing, keeping down the bile that threatened to crawl up your throat. You stained the fabric of the seat, since the wound on your side had torn just a little further open.

All of the events of the past forty-eight hours were still shoved to the periphery of your mind, but you knew you couldn’t keep a blind eye to your sins forever. Eventually, they would come at you like a raging river, consuming you.

Will pulled into Hannibal’s driveway just after sundown, and a sense of foreboding made your stomach bottom out. Once, the house was a safe haven; A place you finally felt welcome in, despite the fact its walls had witnessed your flaws. 

But at that moment, with death hovering at the threshold, it felt like you were heading to the gallows.

As he marched you inside, your knees almost buckled. You gritted your teeth and raised your chin, angry at yourself for displaying any sort of weakness. You were still a little lightheaded and disoriented from the drive, so you had to try even harder to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

The two of you found Hannibal in the living room, sitting by the hearth and staring at the fire within. He said nothing as he looked up, his eyes skirting over you and landing on Will, who held your arm.

In the flickering light, the harsh planes of his face spelled out your fate. You almost expected to hear a gavel pounding before the sentence was carried out… whatever it was.

“Take her downstairs,” he instructed, his tone almost bored. “And leave her there. Repentance always begins with solitude.”

His coldness stung, fueling your resentment, but it did not necessarily surprise you. Still, you tried to catch his eye, but it was no use. He returned his gaze to the fire, and Will dragged you along to the basement.

You were compliant as he led you down the metallic staircase and past a plastic strip curtain, but your eyes were fixed on the various tools against one of the walls. A pang of dread made your heart stutter as you wondered which ones might be used on you.

It was then that you tried to fight back again, desperately this time, survival instincts kicking into overdrive. Without the use of your hands, you resorted to twisting your body and attempting to bite.

He struggled against you, trying to immobilize you in his arms. You managed to get a hold of one of his forearms when it got a little too close to your face, sinking your teeth into it. He growled as you broke the skin, a metallic taste filling your mouth. When he was able to pull you away by the hair, you licked his blood from your teeth.

Instantly, you were backhanded across the face. The entire left side lit up with white-hot pain, and he grabbed you by the throat, pulling you towards the tools.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” He admonished as he clasped your collar around your neck. “You know I’m gonna have to muzzle you for that, right?”

He made you kneel, attaching a chain that was against the far wall to your collar. The muzzle followed right after, a layer of leather covering your mouth. 

You glared up at him as he inspected the bite on his forearm, which was still pulsing with bright pain. You felt some satisfaction at having gotten him at least a little, even if it’d potentially make things worse. If you were going to go out, you would do so fighting.

Hopefully, Hannibal would at least be able to appreciate that.

Will left you there without a parting word, instead giving you one last disgruntled look. Once he was up the stairs, you sagged in place. It wasn’t your first time being disciplined, but you knew this was different. A line had been crossed that you weren’t sure you could ever come back from, but you feared what awaited you on the other side.

The basement was dry and cool, slightly soothing your feverish skin. Your head swam once more as adrenaline began to fade from your system. You were sobering up, too, and that was the only way you could tell time was passing.

There, by yourself, you only had your thoughts to torment you, filling in the silence with a buzz like the swarming of bees.

Good things are so slippery, aren’t they?  Happiness becomes complacency, and thus monotony. Pleasure wanes quickly, and tragedy seldom waits to make itself known.

And what, then, if you are the harbinger of your own tragedy?

You rested your head against the brick wall, the blue darkness of your eyelids providing some comfort. 

After what seemed like an eternity, you heard footsteps descending the metal staircase. You opened your eyes to see Hannibal, his expression still impassive.

He knelt in front of you, undoing the straps of the muzzle. You eyed him warily, but remained unmoving. The barest ghost of a smile was on his face as he saw the crusted blood on the corners of your lips. He’d patched up Will’s arm already, skin mottled purple and red with your molar imprints. He only wished he could have seen you in action.

In his hand, there was a familiar white capsule – one you recognized from his lessons.

“Open,” he ordered. 

You clenched your jaw, turning your face away. 

"You will either open your mouth and take the medication, or I can simply dislocate your jaw and force you to take it... The choice is yours.”

Begrudgingly, you did as told, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. You swallowed the pill dry, grimacing slightly. 

“It should, at the very least, quell that sharp tongue of yours. Or perhaps it’ll only encourage it. We shall see,” he mused, looking you over. “I’ll undo the other restraints when that takes effect.”

“I’m no threat to you,” you murmured.

“Indeed. You are not.”

Still, he made no move to free you, making his point clear. He stood, walking over to the tool wall and wheeling out a metal examination table. Two trays followed right after, and you swallowed hard at the realization that he was setting up for what came next. 

"Now, darling, I have been a psychiatrist for many years... I know we can break that defiant streak of yours. The question is how many more bones will have to go with it?"

He gestured towards your ribcage, and you felt a sudden urge to hide your injuries. All the evidence of what you’d done – the irreparable mess you had gotten yourself into. You ought to beg, to grovel and weep at his feet to spare your life. But you would do no such thing, if only for the sake of keeping whatever dignity you had left.

The world began to blur at the edges, like a frosted window during the winter. The maelstrom of emotions that had been brewing inside of you began to evaporate with your exhales, giving way to a blissful nothingness. You watched him wash his hands thoroughly, donning latex gloves.

Once your body was loose and your mind was like a forest of thick fog, Hannibal undid your bindings and carefully scooped you into his arms. Your head lolled against his chest, and you swore you could hear his heartbeat like a loud thunder in your ears. You wanted to cling to him tighter, but you couldn’t find your strength.

“I missed the way you tenderized me,” you rasped, voice weak and breathy. “Soft and pliant flesh for your hands to mold. Didn’t you love me best then?”

“An artist’s job is never quite finished,” he said. “There is love in destruction, too.” 

Will descended the stairs as Hannibal was laying you down on the examination table. He used trauma shears to cut what remained of your clothes off, intent on examining every inch of you for the extent of your wounds.

The lights overhead framed their heads like halos, sanctifying them. Shouldn’t your hands be folded in prayer? Your knees on the cool stone floor?

For a moment, you wondered if you’d already died. Soon enough, you supposed.

“Jack’s taken care of. At least for now,” Will’s voice sounded far away as he spoke to Hannibal, who nodded in acknowledgment.

You focused on him, glancing at his bandaged arm. “I’m not sorry for biting you.”

He huffed in bitter amusement. “I know you’re not.”

“Just a little gift for you to remember me by.”

“Why don’t you tell us what’s troubling you?” Hannibal chimed in, listening to you hiss a little through your teeth as he cleaned up some of your scrapes. 

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Will said. “You left us a very pointed message. Can’t imagine all that mayhem wasn’t inspired by something.”

“You’re the goddamn empath. Why don’t you tell me?” You hissed, still feeling particularly prickly with him.

Hannibal tsked in disapproval, fingers barely tracing your ribcage — a silent warning more than an assessment. Unable to help it, you let out the softest whimper, on edge at the prospect of more agony.

You weren’t entirely surprised that they were ignorant of your rage. They were too preoccupied with other matters to notice. It had been a gradual process, in which they spent more and more time away, leaving you to your own devices. The more tedious tasks were left to you, all of which you could perform almost automatically. It made everything dull at first, but whenever your thoughts would wander to their whereabouts, resentment steadily grew like a thorny bramble in your chest.

But you were quiet in your seething. You tried to remain obedient and useful, in hopes that they would just see how indispensable you were. Anger had always been a reliable companion, especially in moments of fear or weakness, but it was a dangerous fire to stoke. And stoked it was.

Until one day, you couldn’t bear the weight of it all anymore. And this was where it led you.

“I have needs, too, you know,” you began, your words slow and slurred. “Not just carnal. I wanted frenzy and fury, a pain that only you could give and take away. You said destruction is another form of love, but I felt merely endured. An afterthought.”

The two of them shared a look, finally understanding the extent of their negligence. A stray tear escaped your lash line, and Will reached down to brush it away with one of his knuckles. 

“‘These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume.’” Hannibal recited.

“And quite a fire it was,” Will murmured.

“Would you kiss me before it’s over, then?” You pleaded. “One last time?”

“Last time?” He repeated, frowning in confusion. 

“I know what happens next, Will,” the words left you with a ragged sort of exhale, defeated. “An errant flame must be snuffed out for its destruction. I am at your mercy.”

Hannibal removed the piece of cloth from your side, exposing where you’d been stabbed. He noticed the weapon was still buried inside, so he went to retrieve some long, thin surgical tweezers.

"And mercy you shall be granted, just this once. Your fire will not be extinguished tonight, we’ve worked much too hard to keep it kindled. Though discipline should douse that raging inferno considerably,” he leaned in close, so that you were eye to eye. “Did you have enough?”

You managed a small grin. “Never.”

He couldn’t help but smile back. “Atta girl.”

Will glared at him. “But it will not happen again. Our fondness for you is a weakness, despite our faults, forgiveness is not a mistake we will commit twice.”

“The scars shall serve as a reminder. But not to worry, we’ll keep a closer eye on you,” Hannibal reassured. “We are sorry too, isn’t that right, Will?” 

Will merely nodded, reaching down to place his hand on your shoulder affectionately, fingers brushing your clavicle. 

Hannibal straightened to his full height once more, the metal tweezers in his grip glinting in the light. “This is gonna hurt, darling.”

You nodded, ready to sink into delirium. “Bring it on.”

---

#hannibal fanfiction #hannibal lecter x fem!reader #will graham x fem!reader #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #will graham fanfiction #hannibal lecter fanfiction #hannibal lecter x will graham x reader #minors dni

[livsbrutalitys-blog]

Unfinished business

pt. 1 | pt. 2| pt. 4 (i highly recommend reading the previous parts first <3)

pairing(s): Rhea x f!reader, wwe x f!reader, not really but aew x f!reader

a/n: the song that’s below is gonna be the entrance music for y/n if you don’t like it thats totally fine we don’t all have the same taste so i recommend you play whatever music you choose. don’t play it just yet I will make a note letting you know when to play it :) Also this part is probably gonna be the shortest of them all.

use of y/n

tw: eventual smut, cussing, physical violence (y’all this is wrestling what’d you expect), idk if there’s more lmk if you see any

rm: @floweirala if you want to be added or unadded just message me

Today was finally the day you and Liv had been waiting for. You were finally going to see her. You woke you before Liv and now you were just laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling thinking about how the day is gonna go.

You were suddenly pulled out of your thoughts by a blaring noise coming from the opposite side of the room. You turned your head to see what it was and it was Liv’s alarm going off. You got up and walked over to her bed and gently shook her arm to wake her up. When she did finally wake up she grabbed her phone and shut off the alarm.

“Good morning, it’s the big day!” you said trying to sound more excited to encourage her to get out of bed. “Oh my god!” is all she said as she sprung out of her bed suddenly remembering what today was. You laughed at her and she giggled at her own antics.

“I was thinking maybe we go grab some breakfast before we get ready or we can order room service?” you suggested and she turned to look at you considering your options till she finally decided what she wanted. “Room service would probably be better since it’s probably crawling with fans out there and we don’t wanna be spotted” she said and you nodded in agreement, you didn’t even think about that.

WWE was so much different than AEW in so many was but the biggest thing was the size of the fan base. You knew it wasn’t gonna be the same as your last company but it still amazes you how big the actual fan base was compared to the other company. But they shared some of the same fans so they’d definitely know who you are if they saw you out on the streets.

Once you two got done eating and cleaned up you both decided that you should go ahead and start getting ready since your call time to be at the show was 1 pm and it was now 10:30. You were dressed and Liv was putting the finishing touches on her make up while you waited. You didn’t do your makeup just yet since you’ve always preferred doing it last so it looked as fresh as possible for the TV and the love crowd.

You grabbed a hoodie to wear over your outfit and a mask so that way when you were out nobody would spot you and give away the surprise. Liv did the same as you, You felt your phone start to buzz in your pocket. When you grabbed it and looked at what it was you weren’t surprised to see that it was Stephanie calling you. You answered the call.

“Hey Steph” you said now feeling comfortable calling her by her nickname since you had been working with her very closely for the past 6 months leading up to today. “Hi y/n, are you and Liv ready to go?” she asked “Um I am let me check on Liv really quick” you muted your end of the call in case something personal or embarrassing was said but mostly it was just a habit you formed.

“Hey Livy, Steph’s on the phone wondering if your ready. Are you good to go or do you need more time?” you asked stepping into the bathroom halfway to get a look at her. “Yeah I’m good to go if you are” she said with a big smile you could see in her eyes how much today meant to her. You smiled at her because seeing her this happy made you just as excited and happy as her. “Yeah I’m good” you said while unmuting your phone. “Yep we’re both good to go” you said with audible excitement. “That’s awesome, Ok there is a car waiting for you downstairs, remember to wear the covering you don’t wanna spoil the surprise” she said she was also very happy for you two.

You finished the call with Stephanie and you were now headed down to the ground floor of the hotel. Totally covered nobody could tell who you were which was a good thing right now. Now both of you were sitting in the back seat of a big suv on the way to the arena. You were, again, lost in your own thoughts about Rhea and the whole rest of the day ahead of you. You felt something touch your hand. You looked over at Liv and her face said all that you needed to hear. She was sympathizing with you in that moment, you didn’t let go of her hand as it was the only thing keeping you from spiraling in that moment.

“Liv I cant thank you enough for being through all this with me” you said breaking the silence. “Y/n you don’t have to thank me your basically my sister now, I love you boo, I got you, always” she said and you were really truly grateful for her. You don’t know how you would’ve made it through these past couple months with out her support and ungodly amount of enthusiasm. You smiled at her “I love you too Livy and I’ve got you always” she smiled at you.

You finally arrived at the arena and the driver came to open Liv’s door and she hopped out first, turning to face the inside of the car to adjust her disguise and ask you to make sure she was covered you let her know she was good and asked her the same for yourself. You hopped out right behind her and you two sprinted to the door and ran inside quickly to avoid any spying eyes. You were immediately rushed to a room and told that you would be told when it was your time to come out but to stay in that room for the time being and you both did.

You grabbed your makeup bag out of your bigger bag and sat down at the vanity that was set up in the room. You were halfway done when you heard something. Someone. A deep Australian accent vibrated through the hallway outside your dressing room. You couldn’t make out the words but you knew exactly who it was. You stared at the door for whatever reason it’s like you froze in place as soon as you made the connection of the voice and the person. Liv noticed and said your name to get your attention “huh, what is it?” you said still kind of lost in thought but now looking at her blankly.

“Don’t worry about her your gonna get her soon, your gonna make her regret hurting you like she did” She said with a sense of anger. “I’m not worried about her I’m just a little overwhelmed this is a lot y’know” you said now suddenly out of breath and feeling panicked for no reason at all it seemed. “God Liv I can’t get a good breath” you said holding your chest now feeling like tears are gonna come at any given second. “Hey Hey Hey look at me, you are fine, you are safe and you’re gonna be amazing out there everyone’s gonna freak when they see you even her she’s not gonna know what to do with herself and i mean it’s not like she can run anywhere” she said while holding you face and fanning you to calm you down and it worked. You nodded at her words signaling you heard her.

Once you finally calmed down you finished your makeup and sat on the couch with Liv watching the match happening right now on the TV. Rhea’s match was next and you heard the door knob giggle before it finally opened to reveal Stephanie. She snuck in swiftly.

“You girls ready for the best moment of your lives” she said with a beaming smile. You and Liv jumped up shrieking as you both said yes at the same time. “Alright well come on let’s go to gorilla” she motioned you to walk out. You both kept your disguises on and it brought some attention from the other wrestlers to you both. They knew what was going on just not who it was.

“Alright it’s gonna be Liv first then Y/n you’ll go out last and join her” she said hugging you both feeling so proud of you two. “ok ok that sounds good” Liv said trying to do breathing exercises to calm herself down and you were copying her. “And y/n you’ve got the microphone” Stephanie said, you weren’t surprised as you and Liv both practiced the same promo but Liv didn’t really like doing them it wasn’t her thing and you were completely fine with that you always enjoyed talking shit especially on the mic.

Rheas match was happening and you were getting closer to going out. You heard Liv’s cue to go out. She was waiting in front of you just behind the curtain now. Her music blasted and you screamed at her “you got this bitch” and more encouraging words. She whipped her head around to give you a quick air kiss and then she was gone. You glanced at the monitor that was set up backstage and you’ve never seen the crowd get that excited and loud it was almost deafeningly loud.

(play the song now)

Your music hit and it pulled you out of the trance like state you were in while watching Liv and the crowd. You inhaled deeply, pushing all of your anxiety down. Making your way to the ramp you walked with purpose and cockiness. As soon as the bright lights hit your eyes and the screams and chants hit your ears. You smiled slightly, taking a moment to take the moment in, looking around at all the faces looking back at you. You turned your attention to the task at hand, you finally saw her after all this time, all you had to do was look at her to know that she was not the same person you knew.

As you looked at her she turned her head slowly as she was laid out on the mat, exhausted and in pain. Her face shifted from a painful wince to a confused and furious look. You looked at Liv, making eye contact at the exact same time. You two both shared a look and it was like you read each others mind as you both ran to the ring quickly.

Liv jumped up on the apron and got the ref’s attention as you slid in the ring and took Rhea out with brass knuckles you had put on when you were making your way out to the ramp. When your fist made contact with her face you felt a sense of regret and felt a little guilty for taking her out like that. But there was no time to waste because the ref’s attention was slowly being drawn back to the match that was supposed to be happening behind him. You looked a Charlotte and motioned for her to come over and pin her opponent while she was down and she did.

You tapped the ref on the shoulder and shouted at him, “Come on count, hurry, hurry!” you shouted “one, two, three!” the arena shook on the last count as everyone was counting with the official. “And here’s your winner and new Women’s World Champion Charlotte Flair!” Samantha shouted into the mic there was a mix of disappointment and happiness that filled the arena.

“Rhea” you spoke into the mic was all you said as you knelt beside her. “you’ve gotten to confident haven’t you?” you looked at her shaking your head in a disappointed fashion. “we’ll don’t worry because Me and Liv here are gonna out right back where you belong” you said as you got up to walk away but you stopped for a second a glanced back at her before kneeling beside her again to say one last thing this time not on the mic. “And believe me you deserve it. Don’t forget what you did to me” you said with anger and hurt.

Rhea jumped up, startling you as you stepped out of the ring now on the apron beside Liv. “This isn’t over!” was all you heard from her as you walked back up the ramp, giggling with Liv. On your way back you slowed down to sign some posters, take quick pictures and just meet some of the fans for a brief moment.

When you got back to the top of the ramp before you went through the opening that led to the backstage area you turned around and blew a kiss to the woman in the ring who was fuming while staring at you.

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long for me to post but here it is and i hope you enjoyed this part even though I know it seems a little rushed.

#Spotify #angst #rhea ripley x reader #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #wwe x reader #wwe x y/n #liv morgan x reader #fanfic #writers on tumblr #writing

[depressopax]

HII could you maybe write something for Berlin like HCs being in a relationship with him, maybe with connections to the new show or sm.

(Im actually so glad I found someone who writes for this fandom bc there’s literally no one nearly 😭)

Berlin - Relationship headcanons

Thank you for the request!! <3 I'm happy to see more LCDP fans here omg 😭 Hope ya like it! :)

Smut version can be found here

Pairing: Berlin/Andrés de Fonollosa x gn!reader Genre: Fluff, headcanons Warning(s): Spoilers for LCDP. Cuss words, Berlin being a bit possessive, reader uses they/them pronouns Words: 1145 Summary: Being in a relationship with Berlin would include…  English is not my first language - lmk if there's any spelling mistakes so I can improve my writing! &lt;3

Being in a relationship with this man would be a roller-coaster of emotions…

But you can’t really complain!

People see him as “cold and self-centered”, which is partially true.

BUT when he’s in love, it’s like his whole personality changes.

You are his whole world, and he will do everything to put his ego aside, and show you just how loving he can be.

And boy, he succeeds… 

When he first saw you, it was love at first sight, or at least for him.

He would find out everything about you, what you like to eat, what hobbies you have, and the places you like to be at.

He would just wait for you to approach him first, but it wasn’t that easy…

After a while, he stopped being stubborn and started talking to you.

Berlin would make sure you fall for him, and that would be his biggest goal.

He would take you on extraordinary dates and totally spoil you.

He prefers calm private dates, but wouldn’t mind going to a bar/nightclub if you like that.

Despite his sophisticated looks, he knows how to party. (That one scene in Berlin when he’s at the punk club LMAOO)

Seeing you hyped up makes him happy, so how can he not love partying with you?

The two of you having lazy mornings together. Berlin is a night owl, and getting him out of bed in the morning is a challenge.

He’ll also never let you leave bed. - “Just 5 more minutes, love! - “Are you gonna leave me, all cold and lonely in bed, huh?”

Berlin wouldn’t give up his flirting until you fall in love with him. 

Once that happens - he won’t shut up about you

Like, EVER.

He would drive Sergio and his other friends insane with how much he talks about you, telling them a bit too much about his love life… 

Berlin is the cheesiest guy you’ll ever meet, tbh.

And he takes that as a compliment.

He would write you love letters, send good-morning AND goodnight messages to you, and bring you flowers every now and then. 

Berlin is a man with many talents, and he loves impressing you, especially with his singing

Cheesy as it sounds, he even sings you serenades to express his love and devotion.

You’d have to put up with his weird and impulsive ideas.

Whether it’s planning a spontaneous trip, a heist, etc…

He needs someone to tell him to calm the hell down lol

As seen in the show, Berlin is very passionate and a bit unpredictable.

Being in a relationship is no exception.

Everyday with him is like an adventure, and he knows how to spice things up to not end up like a “boring couple”. 

His goal would be making sure the honeymoon phase never ends. 

He would make sure to tell you how amazing and good-looking you are EVERYDAY. 

He is not afraid to argue with you, but would rather admit he is “wrong” rather than have you be mad at him for too long. 

He’s not always good at reading your emotions and knows what you’re feeling, but tries to. 

It breaks his heart to see you upset, and will try to make you feel better. 

He can be rather possessive too. If someone stares at you for a bit too long, or flirt with you, he’s not afraid to show them that “you are his”.

He’s extra protective of you when you are around his friends. He wants to make sure you feel safe, and also that no one tries hitting on you…

Especially if you are shy, he’d be very close to you, smile at you when you talk and laugh extra loud if you say something funny. 

He makes sure your friends like him. 

He wants to make a good impression on everyone, but especially when it is your friends and family. 

Big fan of PDA. He’s a man that is not afraid to kiss you in public, and he practically never lets go of your hand when you’re outdoors together. 

When cuddling, he prefers being the big spoon. 

One of Berlin’s love languages is touch.

He enjoys having his hand on your thigh, giving your shoulders soft massages, and forehead kisses. He’s the type of guy to kiss your hands, too.

If you have long hair, he tends to fidget with it, running his fingers through it, stroking it away from your face and even braiding it.

Berlin definitely treats you like a god/goddess. 

But the relationship would also be challenging from time to time.

Berlin being a criminal does bother you.

Your fear is for him to get caught and end up in jail.

He’d have to reassure you a lot that he won’t get caught, promising you that he will be fine.

But don’t worry, he makes sure to keep that promise. 

His pet names for you: (My) love, honey, babe… 

His phone is full with pictures of you and you’re definitely both his home- and lock-screen. 

He has lots of money, and spends them on you, whether you like it or not. 

Berlin enjoys luxury and wants to give you a luxurious life.

His dream is to travel and see the world with you by his side.

If you don’t speak Spanish, he would offer to teach it to you. 

He is very overprotective and makes sure you keep a distance from his work. 

But he does enjoy impressing you with dramatic stories about his heists.

During his most difficult and dangerous heists, he will think of you and keep on fighting so he can come back home to you. 

When he’s away for a longer time, Berlin makes sure to text and call you with regular updates. But in all honesty, he just misses your voice.

Like I said earlier, he is an unpredictable man, and if someone is mean to you, yikes… - “Just drop it, Andrés!” “No, babe… I’ll have a ‘chat’ with them…”

Remember the throwback scene of Berlin and the man that made fun of his bow tie? 

Let’s just say, whoever insulted you will return to you and apologize, trembling and crying from pain and fright.  

…Berlin would just return to you with a smug smile, pretending like nothing happened… 

And act all clueless when you confront him about it. 

With you, Berlin is soft and passionate, but others view him as your “scary boyfriend”, a title he accepts with pride. 

To summarize… Despite Berlin's cold exterior, he is the complete opposite with you. He has so much love to give, and isn’t scared to do so. He will make sure to worship you and make sure you feel loved. All he wants is to spend his time with you, and give you the passion, excitement and devotion you deserve. Being together with him is definitely not boring.

I have such hate-love relationship to Berlin bruh 😭 Andrés in Berlin >>>>>>> LCDP

#la casa de papel #fanfiction #fluff #x reader #fanfic writing #fic writing #money heist #scenarios #lcdp berlin #berlin netflix #berlin money heist #berlin lcdp #berlin #andres de fonollosa #berlin andres #andrés de fonollosa #money heist imagine #pedro alonso #fanfic readers #gn reader #reader insert #x gn y/n #gn!reader #headcanon #relationship headcanons #lcdp #fanfic #fanfic authors #fan fiction #fanfiction writer

[finnsbubblegum]

Becoming Mrs. Miller {Part 3: The Proposal} (Joel Miller x Reader)

Pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, use of (y/n), reader as mother figure, domestic joel, period talk (lmk if i missed any)

Summary: It had been a few months since you moved in with Joel and Sarah, you were slowly  becoming a mother figure to Sarah. Joel realized how much he loved you and asked you to marry him.

Words count: 1k A/N: Hi! This is a part 3 of Becoming Mrs. Miller. But it can also be read as a standalone. I might make more chapters too! Stay tuned and hope you like it!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

It had been three months since you moved in with Joel and Sarah. You were washing the dishes and you heard Sarah scream from upstairs. You dropped the plate and ran upstairs. 

“What’s wrong?” You tried to catch your breath.

“Baby? Open the door. What’s going on?” Joel was already there knocking the bathroom door.

“I want (y/n)!” Sarah cried.

Joel gestured to you to talk to her. He crossed his arms and leaned on the wall.

“Sarah? Darling? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” You moved closer to the door so she could hear you.

“I-I think I’m dying.” She cried.

You guessed she just got her first period. You chuckled and looked at Joel.

“I think I left the tap open. Why don’t you help me turn it off?” Joel understood this was women's thing so he went to the kitchen.

“Sarah? Will you open the door for me?” You held the door handle.

“Is dad there?” 

“No. He’s downstairs.”

Sarah unlocked the door and let you in. She sat on the toilet seat and showed you her underwear.

“Am I gonna die?” She looked at you with tears welling in her eyes.

“No, baby. You just got your first period.” You smiled and crouched to be the same height as her.

“What’s that?”

“It’s uh- It’s normal. Every woman has it every month. As a woman, we bleed for a few days every month. Sometimes it’s 5 days or 7 days. It depends. Then the cycle goes on, and you will get it again next month.”

“So I’m not gonna die, right?”

“No, honey. You’re not gonna die. You’re a woman now.” You chuckled and caressed her back.

“So, if you get your period, you wear this.” You took your pads from the cabinet and passed it to her.

“What is this?” Sarah got confused.

“It’s a sanitary pad. It’s to absorb the blood. You wear it like this.” You taught Sarah how to wear it. 

“There’s actually other types like tampons and others. But I prefer this one. I can buy you the others and see which one you feel comfortable with.” 

Sarah nodded.

“Does your stomach hurt?” You hold Sarah's shoulder.

“Kind of.” She squeezed her stomach.

“Okay. Why don’t you lay on your bed and I’ll get you something.” You tapped her shoulder and left to the kitchen.

“Everything’s good?” Joel was worried.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Sarah just got her first period. She’s an adult now.” You smirked.

“Oh.” Joel put his hands on his pocket awkwardly. 

You found the medicine box and got painkillers for Sarah. 

“I gotta give her this.” You showed the painkillers to Joel and moved your way upstairs.

“Hey, here. Drink this. It’ll help relieve the pain.” You sat on the edge of Sarah’s bed. 

Sarah got up and drank the medicine you gave her. 

“Thank you, (y/n). I wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t here. Dad would have freaked out.”

You smiled and stroked her hair.

“Why don’t you get some sleep? Find me if you need anything, allright?” You tucked in Sarah.

“Okay, good night (y/n).” Sarah closed her eyes.

“Good night.” You kissed her forehead and closed the door slowly.

You walked to your bedroom. Joel flinched and hurriedly closed the drawer beside the bed.

“Did I just catch you doing something?” You raised one of your eyebrows.

“No.” Joel’s eyes moved from side to side avoiding eye contact.

“What is it? Porn magazine?” You teased him.

“Ugh- It’s nothin’.” 

“It’s okay. I won’t force you to show me.” You laughed and made your way to the bathroom.

You took a few minutes doing your nighttime skincare before going to bed. You sighed as you climbed to bed. Joel was sitting on the bed with his hands behind his head leaning on the headboard.

“Thank you.” Joel suddenly thanked you.

“For what?” You held your head with your hands to look at him.

“For everythin’. You take care of Sarah like your own. I wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t here. I would have freaked out.” 

“Sarah told me that.” You chuckled.

“She did?” 

“Uh-huh.”

“Baby..” Joel’s heart was beating faster.

“Hmm?” 

“Thank you for showing up in my life. Sometimes I wish I met you sooner.” He sounded so serious so you got up into a sitting position.

“You’re beautiful, you’re kind, pure, loving, and…you’re the most perfect woman I’ve ever met. You’re like an angel that God has sent to me. And of course the sex with you is AMAZING.” He chuckled.

You giggled and your eyes were watery. You were touched by his praise.

“I don’t want to lose you. I want to keep you mine forever. I know Sarah is a lot happier since you’re around. I am too. And today, what you did to Sarah..it-it made me even sure that you will be the best mother and wife in this world.” He took your hand and kissed it.

Happy tears falling down your cheeks. You knew where this was going. Joel wiped your tears with his thumb. Joel turned to the drawer next to the bed and extended his hand to open it. He took out a navy blue velvet ring box.

You gasped and closed your mouth with both of your hands.

“Joel..” You cried.

“I was actually going to propose to you in a more romantic way. Fancy dinner, roses, balloons, and a band. Not just in our bedroom with nothin’. But I couldn’t wait anymore. I want to put a ring on your finger and make you mine forever. I love you so much. (y/n), will you marry me?” He opened the ring box to you.

“Yes!Yes! It’s always yes!” You jumped to him and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you.” Tears falling down from Joel’s eyes as he kissed you.

Joel took your left hand and put the ring on your ring finger.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” You raised your hand up and admired the ring he gave you.

“Spent two hours in the store for that.” Joel put his hand on the back of his neck.

“Well, that two hours is well spent.” You smiled at him.

Joel kissed your temple, put his arms around you and laid down on the bed with you.

“So, I’m officially Mrs. Miller now?” You caressed his chest.

Joel chuckled and rested his chin on top of your head.

To be continued...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction

[lelengerine]

call you mine

✿ pairing |  haechan x reader

✿ synopsis | sometimes, love letters might just be the way to get someone to like you (or maybe it’s because they’ve liked you for the entire time).

✿ genre | kinda tooth-rotting fluff at some points, a little bit of childhood friends to lovers, also pretty cliché so bear w me here

✿ wc | 1.4k

✿ notes | hello! this is a sequel to sincerely, yours and i highly suggest reading that first but this can also be read as a stand alone fic too hehe <3 ngl i kinda got carried away writing this ;0; as always,, lmk ur thoughts on this one :D

m.list

if you’d ask him, haechan wouldn’t know how long he’s been staring at the mirror, picking out clothes from his closet before tossing them into the far corners of his room. 

each second passes by and the more his irritation grows from the fact nothing seems to be just right. he knows he’s just going for a casual trip with you, and that’s all it’ll ever be, but the back of his mind itches at the thought of being with you for a couple of days straight.

sure, you’ve seen him wear all sorts of things back from when the two of you were little. the first time you met, he was sporting a shinchan shirt in the brightest green you’d ever seen. he even used to wear this one jacket that’s seen it’s fair share of days (correction, he still does), and you’ve always complimented how much it suits him. 

you’d honestly be the last person to care about what he’d show up in, and yet, he wants to look the best for you. he doesn’t know why this is exactly the case, but he’s never questioned it too much to care either.

haechan then pulls up a purple hoodie littered with embroidered patches from his closet by the hanger, recognizing it almost immediately. not because it’s an item he’s worn so often, but because you borrowed it more than once before. he still remembers how the fabric would completely engulf your figure, obviously being too big on you. though, you always tell him that’s exactly what you prefer.

he always thought you looked cute in it anyways.

carefully folding it up, haechan packs it into his small suitcase — the hoodie now being the first piece of clothing that rests inside. 

checking the clock, he doesn’t have much time left before needing to pick you up and painstakingly tries to gather all the things he needs to bring for the trip, rushing with you in mind. this trip would be marked as the first time you would travel together. well, more like the first trip without your parents coming along since they deem you’re both old enough to not get into stupid situations. at least, that’s what they wanted to assume from the both of you.

okay, so maybe he should be a little more nervous than he is. whatever, the jitters will come hit him straight in the face soon enough when he least expects it.

he finishes stuffing his suitcase full of items, albeit a bit sloppily and not at all like he originally planned for, but it’ll have to do. he’d rather have a messy bag filled to the brim with wrinkly clothes that might not even be fit for the weather than be late to the time you both agreed he’d pick you up on.

-x-

haechan soon arrives at the front of your doorstep pretty much on the dot, hand instinctively reaching into the pocket of his jeans to pull out a replica key with a mini teddy bear charm dangling from it. you gave it to him for when he ever wanted to spontaneously visit you and it’s something he treasures dearly, knowing it symbolizes the trust you place in him.

eagerly, he rushes up to your room, assuming you’re still inside. “y/n- are you ready to go?” he questions, sounding a little flustered to see the area empty. it isn't like you to leave your room unattended. did something happen-

“i’m in the bathroom! i’ll be out soon.” he hears you yell out soon after, placing his heart at ease. 

“oh thank god,” he mumbles softly, not knowing what he’d do if you were gone.

he takes the time to look around your room, noting how practically nothing has changed since he last visited when he was much younger. there are still glow in the dark stars that vaguely shine on your ceiling, ones he helped you stick because you couldn’t reach the ceiling even with the height offered by your bed. hell, even the wooden cabinet you use hasn’t changed for the past years and is kept in good condition thanks to your care.

it’s like he’s reminiscing everything he’s known about you all at once. every little detail only he knows as your best friend.

there is, however, one small thing that sticks out of place in his eyes. a small, well-kept box rests below your desk, one he’s never seen before nor heard you talk about. 

he believed you always told him about everything that went on in your life, so why hasn’t he known about this? perhaps he had been mistaken all along.

the thought can’t help but form the start of a crack on the notion of him being your best friend. maybe someone else had already taken that spot away from him right under his nose and he had realized just a bit too late. 

he didn’t want to be the person who would limit you to who you make friends with, quite the opposite actually, but jealousy serves to be a weakness in him – slowly seeping into his mind and clogging his train of thought. he could only wish he wasn’t feeling this way right now.

it's that same jealousy that urges him to pick up the box, crouch down and quickly take the lid off. there, he finds the dainty envelopes stored away with utmost care and attention to detail.

each one is signed with ‘sincerely, yours’ written at the bottom left in a perfectly executed cursive font, and that’s when he realizes they’re letters written with someone in mind.

he sighs, returning back to the times you’d nag him to learn lettering with you. he would never take the lessons seriously, but you always did. so this was why you wanted to learn how to write so prettily, he quickly assumes. 

his heart grows heavier the more he rummages through the box, the realization of the envelopes being love letters sinking in slowly but surely into his soul.

you like someone, he thought to himself.

so it wasn’t even someone stealing his title of best friend. it was someone who had stolen your heart. that someone was the person he yearned to be for so long, and now, it was never going to be him seeing as you’ve even committed to writing down letters. 

since when did you even write letters? haechan scoffs to himself bitterly at the thought.

“hyuck, i’m done. we should get-“ you come out of the bathroom unannounced, not even giving him a chance to gather his thoughts. “…going.”

he probably caught you just as off guard, judging by the way your shoulders stiffened up and your line of sight instantly focused on the letters that now rest in the palms of his hands. he already pieced together the fact he was never supposed to know about this, much less rummage through your things without consent. 

what was he even going to tell you? surely he could not get himself out of this situation with an excuse after being caught like a raccoon searching for scraps in the neighbor’s trash can at night. instead, haechan does the next best thing he could think of.

“…y/n? what are these?” well, to be fair, he never said his idea wasn’t outright stupid.

truthfully, he doesn’t know whether asking you directly was the right thing to do. yes, he knows he’s the one at fault in this situation, yet this was the only way he could hear a proper answer from you. 

he just wanted to pull the bandaid off his heart and accept the fact you have feelings for someone else. any form of hatred you throw his way after all this, he will gladly accept.

with a deep breath, you finally answer him with “they’re… sincerely yours.”

and for the second time today, haechan’s brain goes blank. did you just say all those letters were for him? no, he probably interpreted your words incorrectly. 

“mine?” he utters out moments later, voice still laced with confusion.

you sheepishly nod your head along to his words, further confirming what he had originally perceived about those letters were oh so wrong. his heart that was once sinking was slowly coming back above the tide, meeting the bright, blue sky. 

his lips curl upwards into a smile unbeknownst to him, however, you’re quick to notice – taking that as a sign your feelings may have not been so one-sided after all.

“can i… read them?” haechan looks at you with stars in his eyes and you wonder if that’s a reflection of the glow in the dark stars that decorate your room’s ceiling or if it's just him glistening under the sunlight that barely manages to shine into your room.

just how could you decline when he’s acts like this in front of you?

“after our trip?” you propose, “at least you’ll have something to look forward to when we get back.”

“okay, but does that mean i get to call you mine?”

now you’re the one flustered, heat creeping up to the apples of your cheeks. just how much did his confidence surge knowing the letters were for him? “i don’t know- i mean, you haven't asked me out yet.”

“oh baby, you genuinely don't know how long i’ve waited for this moment.”

#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #haechan fluff #haechan angst #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck angst #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles

[wheresmymilliondollarman]

aaron warner x ferrars!reader

hcs about being juliette’s sister and aaron being enamoured by you.

(taken place during shatter me /some of unravel me) 

a/n: this is a borderline fic, but i used bullet points so i’m labeling it as hcs (LOL). i use the hayden fancast, but feel free to envision aaron as you want. reader and juliette aren’t biologically related but both adopted & grew up together thinking they were related by blood. you’ll likely being seeing me use juliette more than ella bc i prefer it and confuses less. readers powers similar to emmaline, but differs. (heavily took inspo from jean grey & wanda maximoff)  timeline changes a bit. also i don’t exactly know/remember how school worked during the book so i’m just going by my own experiences LMAO. lmk if you are interested in a part 2!

word count: 9.6k

warnings: mentions of mental and physical abuse, gun violence, mentions of injuries and blood, some swearing, long backstory, grammar errors and spelling mistakes

you and juliette were the same age; you were younger by a few months. however, due to how close your birthdays were, your “parents” decided you both would be played off as twins to yourselves and everyone else. of course, growing up you did see the differences in appearance between you and juliette, but your parents assured you it was due to being fraternal twins. 

you both were very close sisters; you shared a small bedroom in your home. facing the abuse from both your parents brought you even closer. you both shared your thoughts, secrets, feelings, and anything else with each other. anytime your parents shouted at you, hit you, or berated you, juliette was there with open arms to comfort you - telling you it would be okay. even tho she wasn’t sure herself.  you returned the favor vice versa. 

similar to juliette, you also discovered you had a curse gift at a young age. instead of a lethal touch, however, you were gifted with the ability of mental manipulation. you began to discover the nature of your ability when voices that weren’t your own, were suddenly heard in your head whenever you neared another person. being only 6, you thought you were going insane and tried to confide in your mother. she did not take well to this and scolded you for being a liar and attention seeker. she urged you never to mention this to anyone ever, or else you would be seen as a psycho freak and bring shame to the family. 

after that, you were too ashamed to even mention it to juliette, afraid she would react negatively too. eventually, you were able to piece together that the voices were actually the thoughts of others. you hated your gift; it felt like an invasion of other's privacy. you would never want someone to listen to your every thought, so why should you listen to people's. it was even worse, you couldn’t control it to prevent the unwarranted thoughts. you did what you could to try to avoid reading minds, luckily, being an outcast had its advantages because if people remained far enough, you weren’t able to hear their minds. you were cautious around juliette because you would never want to take advantage of the privacy of her mind. 

even before the accident that revealed juliette’s gift, you both were never popular among your peers. your shy personalities made most assume you were just weirdos, and as a kid, that’s the worst possible title to have when you wanna make friends. of course, there was a boy named adam kent who was occasionally kind to you both, but you could tell his interest was more focused on juliette. based on a few thoughts of juliette’s you unintentionally listened to - you knew she was forming a small crush on adam.

at one point, you were able to conjure a friend of your own during one recess. you noticed a girl in your grade, sabrina, crying behind the slide on an afternoon, and found out the reason for her distress was a bad grade on a math assignment. while sabrina didn’t tell you directly, you were able to piece together the strictness of her parents based on her thoughts. you felt sympathetic towards her, you knew how harsh parents could be on school grades. it was then you offered to help her with her assignments to prevent her from failing. the girl seemed reluctant at first, and her mind was filled with not-so-nice thoughts on you & juliettes reputation, but finally, she accepted your offer. 

sabrina’s thoughts on you were pretty negative the first few times you got together to study, she was embarrassed to be seen hanging with you, and she didn’t want to get a bad reputation among the class too.  as you hung out more, you partnership turned into a real friendship. she sat with you for a few minutes at lunch before returning to her own group, and you were invited to her house to hang out on a few occasions. sometimes like juliette, you did your best to turn a blind eye to her thoughts for the sake of her privacy - this was your first official friend, and you didn’t wanna mess it up. 

however, you did mess it up in the end. you and sabrina were friends for almost a whole school year, and you truly believed she was your best friend. any negative thoughts she had originally were nowhere to be found and replaced with mundane ones about school, family, hobbies, etc. at this point, you were still struggling to learn the extent of your abilities and having no one to confide in really affected you. you decided you could trust sabrina with your secret, and maybe just maybe, she wouldn’t hate you, and you could grow even closers as best friend. 

you were totally, indefinitely, absolutely wrong. when you confessed your mind-reading capabilities to sabrina, she laughed at you, thinking you were joking, however, after you proved her wrong by reciting phrases, word by word, spoken in her mind, she flipped out. she called you every synonym to the word freak she could come up with and ran away from you. to make matters worse she told her friends about your ability, imploring them to stay away too. of course, you were already labeled a weirdo, so why wouldn’t they believe the weirdo is actually weird. it spread to the entirety of the school which caused everyone to distance themselves from you even more. no one could trust a mind reader, much less have them as a friend when they could read your every thought. 

juliette was quick to confront you at home, in your shared bedroom, about the rumors that spread. you were quicker to break down and confess the rumors were true, how horrible having this ability has been, and the betrayal of your best friend. you thought juliette would also be disgusted with you and make a demand to our parents that you should be sent away and stay very far from her. the fears you had were shut down the moment juliette hugged you tightly and told you she loved you anyway and that she was here to support you in any way she could. 

after you calmed down a bit, you went on to explain your gift, how you found out, and how you felt alone in this whole mess. you were also quick to add on how you did your best to stray from listening in on any thoughts juliette had. your sister assured you she thought no less of you, and it wasn’t your fault you had this gift. she even joked about how she needs to remember to not think about any birthday gifts around you. you let out a soft laugh and were eternally grateful you had such an amazing and understanding sister. 

it wasn’t a shock that soon your parents soon became aware of what everyone at school was saying about you - you were sure it had already spread throughout the town. they berated you for causing embarrassment and shame to your family. unlike juliette, they treated you with disgust, making sure you knew how much of a disappointment you were. next thing you knew, you were pulled out of school for a few weeks, being homeschooled instead. if you didn’t have the comfort of juliette in your room, you would’ve been incredibly lonely in your isolation. 

it didn't end there however; you were sent to multiple therapists. your parents hoped it could help “cure” you of your “disease,” as they liked to call it. you tried multiple types of therapies, even electroshock, when your parents were especially desperate. it was a complete physical and mental torture and made you resent yourself for your gift even more. you weren’t able to see juliette as often, a few times a month if you were lucky. you wanted nothing more than her warm embrace and reassuring words. 

the final straw for your parents was when juliette accidentally killed a young boy with her touch. many believe it was done purposely, even though she was only trying to save that boy. your parents were even more horrified at this point. not only did they have one freak of nature daughter, they now had two. 

you and juliette were both taken away and sent to scientists to be studied and tested on from then on. they experimented on you constantly and tied you down to the lab bed to prevent you from moving. you were beginning to prefer the therapies. hearing juliette’s yells of pain from the table next to yours made you want to kill hurt the scientists badly. it was worse when you knew from their thoughts they had no remorse either but were heavily fascinated with both of your guys’ abilities.  it hurt you to know your sister was going through the same thing, and it infuriated you how they treated you both like wild animals. neither of you asked to be born with this curse. 

eventually, you and your sister were both sent to the asylum quickly after that. while the events that brought you here were poor, you were grateful to share a room and be close to your sister again, even in a hell like that. juliette, however, didn't allow you too near her - afraid she would hurt you as well. you tried to reassure her that she’s never hurt you in any way, and that she’s touched you before the accident, but she didn’t want to risk it. you understood, if you thought there was even just a chance you would hurt and possibly kill juliette, you wouldn’t take it. 

nonetheless, you still did your best to comfort each other in the harsh environment. it was still hard to be happy in the asylum; the treatment didn’t differ much from home. still seen as weird freaks by guards. when the morale was low, you did your best to bring up any happy memories the two of you shared, and juliette would let a small smile grow on her face here and there. however, you couldn’t help but grow lonelier and a bit insane as the days passed. you were too distraught with your own thoughts to really listen in on juliettes, but from bits, you heard you were able to piece this place was also affecting her mentally. 

it was after 264 days (juliette made sure to keep track of the days they were there) that the guards brought in another prisoner, more specifically, a man. you thought this was a cruel joke from the guards; why would they add someone else to those closed spaces.

while you were against listening to the thoughts of others without their knowledge, you needed to make sure this guy wasn’t going to be a threat to you or juliette. however, you heard nothing. no thoughts, no images, no voice - it was silent. you were stunned; this was the first time you haven’t been able to read someone's mind. you probably would’ve been happy if it weren’t for the fact you actually wanted to know this guy’s thoughts. 

adam, you learned your roommate’s name was, was an asshole the first few nights. it started when, without even saying anything, he took over both yours and juliette’s beds for himself, even taking what little blanket and pillows you had. you protested immediately and got up to try and take back your beds, but juliette pulled on your shirt, reeling you back. she insisted the fight wasn’t worth it. you gave in, but still insisted to adam he at least gave you a blanket so you both didn’t freeze to death. he gave you a deep glare but relented anyway. 

those nights you and juliette would huddle in a corner to try your best to sleep, using what you could spare of the blanket to separate juliette from touching you directly. you whispered to juliette about how you couldn’t read his mind, and she seemed as stumped as you were.

adam eventually gave you a bed back so you could sleep a bit comfier. you thanked him, even though he shouldn’t have taken it in the first place, but wanted to remain peaceful. juliette insisted you both help him adjust to the routine here to return the favor. he began to try to press on any backstory about you and juliette, and juliette often responded for the both of you, never giving much information. she also was adamant he seemed quite familiar, but she didn’t know why.

the three of you became somewhat friends, and it would’ve been nicer if you all weren’t stuck in a hell hole. still, you and juliette was able to learn more about the current world through adam; things seemed to be darker than they were 3 years ago. you could sense adam and juliette were forming an unspoken attachment, but you never pressed juliette on it. some nights you would try to go to bed early to give them the privacy to talk. 

you were startled awake one morning by the sound of yelling and guards entering the cell. you turned to juliette to question her on what was happening, but before she could even form a response, you were both pulled roughly by guards and pushed on the ground. they yelled at you to not move or speak, but you still called out to your sister and tried to reach her - which got you a horrible kick to the ribs. you don’t remember much, only vaguely hearing some yelling from adam. before your vision went black. 

the next time you woke up, you were, once again, in what seemed a prison cell. after gaining little strength to sit up, you found juliette next to you - barely waking up herself. you threw each other worried glances, and she mouthed to you it was going to be alright. but you knew from her mind she was already panicking as well. 

the door opened behind you, but you were still a little out of it and too focused on juliette to look as quickly as she did. suddenly her face looked like she saw a ghost. you threw a confused glance to, which she ignored, so you followed your line of vision - adam. based on his attire matching the other guards that entered the room, you knew that meant he was working with them. both sisters were heavily confused about what was going on, but adam was quick to demand that the two of you get up, threatening you with the gun in his hand. 

you both were led to a dark room that suddenly filled with light after you walked in. before your vision could adjust to the light again, a voice called out to the guards to bring you and juliette closer - this prompt them to shoved you with the butt of their guns. 

first thing you noticed was that a man sat before you on a folding chair. the man couldn’t have been that much older than you - he was tall, maybe 6′0 ft, give or take, he had a head full of golden blonde wavy hair, his attire seemed that of a general (decorated with different medallions), and his eyes were a piercing green. he looked straight out of a victorian painting; he was surreal to look at. his presence gave that it demanded respect, and based on the fearful thoughts of the soldiers behind you, he always got it. he was gorgeous intimidating. 

you noticed a name tag on his attire - warner, it said. 

“ferrars sisters, we meet at last.” 

you and juliette remained silent, still not fully understanding what was happening. he leaned closer toward you two, and without even thinking, you stepped in front of your sister. this seemed to intrigue warner, making a crooked smile on his lips. 

he continued anyway - going on to explain adam’s role in the asylum. but as soon as you heard the word kent - you put it together and knew juliette had done the same. adam was the same boy from all the years ago - the one juliette constantly thought of to this day. it took everything in you to not turn to adam at that moment. you knew this betrayal was affecting juliette as well.

not waiting for your reactions, warner went on to say he had a proposition for the both of you to join the reestablishment. you then learned he knew about the abilities you both have; he had been studying the two of you for years. 

creep, you thought. but after a wide-eyed glance from juliette and a painful kick to the back from the soldier behind you, you realized you had said that aloud. warner gave a stern look your way, but saw a small glint in his eyes. maybe it was just in your head. 

warner still went on to say how you could put your abilities to use in the reestablishment, but you knew he meant that juliette could torture people while you could always know what someone was thinking - seek out any traitors. 

you were furious with this situation and the fact warner seemed to think you two would want to hurt people willingly just because you had gifts. you spoke before you even realized it, “oh, i’m just dying to join the reestablishment after they’ve isolated juliette and i and studied us like we were animals.”

you were once again kicked, but this time to the ground - juliette even shouted at the guard a bit in protest. warner held up his hand to say it was enough. as you were getting up (agonizingly), you show warner getting up from his chair and walking closer to you. 

when he stood a foot or two in front of you, he stared at you intensely. you just wanted to crawl into a corner at that moment, his pale emerald eyes made you feel like he could see through you. you then registered another thing. you couldn’t read his mind either.

juliette decided to speak up this time, “what my sister means, is that we have no interest in joining you.” 

warners gaze seemed disappointed at this. he glanced at juliette before looking back at you, “you’re choosing the wrong side here.” 

you both were then sent off, adam being the main guard for juliette and another guard for you. (kishimoto you think his name tag said.)

you and juliette were demanded at dinner, and each brought a dress picked out by warner himself. you couldn’t even deny the dress wasn’t gorgeous, it was white, mermaid style, decorated and embroidered with pearls, subtle floral designs going all around it, some type of pendants in the middle with pearl strings draped - it was in simple, ethereal. 

now, you knew you shouldn’t accept anything warner offers you - but the little girl in you who dreamed of a dress like this took over. you told yourself you were taking advantage of what was given, it wasn’t going to persuade you. 

when it was time for dinner, you and juliette were again side by side, walking toward the dining room. the moment you saw each other, you both gasped and asked “what are you wearing?” you were shocked she was still in her attire from the asylum, and she was shocked you were wearing the dress given. 

after you both explained your reasoning, you laughed at how ridiculous you both looked in a side-by-side comparison. you quickly caught her on to the fact you couldn’t read warner mind like adam, she was shocked and urged you to not let him know for your own safety. then you gave each other a comforting look to help brace yourselves for whatever was to come. 

warner was displeased at juliette’s outfit, but seemed proud to see you were wearing what he requested. he scanned you up and down, making you shift from foot to foot nervously under his gaze. it didn’t help you notice how he cleaned up as well - crisp white dress shirt, black dress pants with a black belt and a gold buckle, fancy black shoes, and a black tuxedo coat. you also took note of the rings on his hands, but especially a green one on his pinkie, which you think you saw him wear earlier too. 

you and juliette sat at dinner, juliette directly across from adam warner next to you. him next to you did not help your nervousness, it increased it tenfold. 

the food in front of you looked so delicious you could feel the saliva forming in your mouth. all you wanted to do was dig in, but hearing juliettes thoughts, you knew she was feeling the same but going to protest it regardless. as much as you love food, you loved your sister more, so you weren’t going to feast no matter how much it pained you. and you knew juliette deeply appreciated it. 

when warner noticed this, he raised a brow, “are you not going to eat?” you nodded no and juliette responded, saying you both weren’t hungry, which was a lie of course and warner knew this. 

juliette was better at pretending than you. you couldn’t help but look at the food longingly every few minutes. you knew it was pathetic but you haven��t eaten in days. the only thing you did give in to was water because if you were gonna starve you, you could at least prevent being dehydrated to death. 

from the side of your eye you saw warner holding back a smile, as if this was hilarious to him. suddenly, he picked up your fork and picked up a bit of the (what you assumed) meat from your plate, and you for a second, you thought he was going to eat it. but instead he held it up near your mouth. “eat.” 

you face felt flush with heat, you knew you were red all over your face. “what are you doing?” were the only words you could form. 

“since you won’t eat willingly, i suppose i’ll have to feed you myself, amor.” his crooked smile was back and even wider. you wanted to die at that moment. 

you reluctantly took a bite after he showed no sign of backing down. you were deeply embarrassed feeling the gaze of everyone on you and warner; you couldn’t even look him in the eye. you knew the smug bastard took enjoyment in feeding you. 

it didn’t end after that, he did that for the entire meal, despite your many protests that you would do it yourself. even juliette followed suit in eating after a pleading look from adam. you could tell warner was pleased.

when dinner finished, warner had taken the task of walking you both back himself. he asked questions about your abilities, you both responded as vaguely as you could. he then asked you and her to showcase your gifts on him. you both profusely refuse, but he didn’t accept that. so instead, he called one of his soldiers and demanded he removes his gloves - you knew from his thoughts he was terrified but still obeyed the order. 

thats when juliette ran off, you following behind before warner grabbed your arm tightly, stopping you. he started ordering his men to get her. it didn’t take long for the soldiers to surround her, trapping you. the soldier ordered from before, jenkins, stood in front of juliette once more and, despite her begging, grabs her. 

he’s immediately bent down in pain, screaming in agony. juliette was in what seemed like a trance, and she was having trouble letting go.

you made the haste decision to knee warner in the crotch and run off to juliette. you swiftly wrapped your arms around her and pulled her away with all your strength - making you both fall to the ground. you believed a good percent she wouldn’t hurt you, but was still very relieved when no pain seemed to come.

when you turned to juliette she looked stunned but then passed out in your arms. you didn’t realize your were crying when you shook juliette’s body and repeated her name. or even when you shouted for help for the sake of both your sister and the poor guard nearly dead on the ground. 

warner (after recovering from your knee) pulled you away, trying to calm you by rubbing a hand on your back, but it only made you more furious.

you pushed him harshly back, though he barely reacted, and in a second, slapped him across the face. you angrily spewed out how he could do that to both your sister and the guard and called him nefarious names.

when you came down from your fit, you realized what you had just done and gasped, putting a hand over your mouth. while you hated warner at that moment, you knew he could kill you and juliette without a second thought. no one moved for a moment, you thought time was still. warner was looking so dangerously at you, you were starting to think you could die from it. 

without looking away, he told kent to tend to juliette, and that the rest of the men to clean up the mess and deal with jenkins. it was eventually just you and him in the hall. you suddenly found the ground very interesting. you were honestly scared. 

he grabbed your chin, making you look at him directly, “you were upset and acting rash, so i’ll let you off this once. but the next time you try something like that, it won’t be so easily forgiven, amor.” 

you said nothing but gave a slight nod in response. he then walked you to your room, and bid you a good night. 

he turned around before leaving, “don’t worry much about juliette, she’ll be alright. oh, and don’t think i’ve forgotten about your gift, i expect a demonstration very soon.” he had another stupid smirk on his face before closing your room door. oh god, you were in trouble. 

he made an appearance in your room the next day, commanding asking you to join him on a walk. you knew it wasn’t an actual question, so you got ready to go. 

you went outside, still on base grounds, and for a moment, you were shocked - you couldn’t think of how long it had been since you were outside. 

“what, never seen a tree before?” 

“i’d forgotten what they looked like.” 

you could’ve sworn you almost saw pity in his eyes, but it was quickly gone and replaced with his usual neutral face. he didn’t respond and grabbed your arm to guide you on the walk. 

he never let you out of his grip, much to your disdain. he went on to say juliette was going to be fine, along with jenkins, the guard. 

throughout the walk anytime a soldier passed by, he asked you to tell him what they were thinking. you could’ve lied, but then again, you were honestly bad at lying. so you complied. a lot of it consisted of random thoughts like hunger, complaining about their job, some light gossip, and even a few uncomfortable ones about you. warner looked irritated when you told him the last one, but overall amazed at your gift. 

he must’ve thought you have somewhat control over hearing thoughts or not because he then gave you permission to read his thoughts. you didn’t want him to know you couldn’t, so you asked him to see juliette and remove the cameras in both of your rooms before you would do so. 

he thought about it for a moment, especially regarding the camera issue, but eventually relented and agreed. he took you straight to her room, walking side with you too. 

as soon as you saw her, you gave her a huge hug and asked how she was feeling. she wasn’t used to being to someone close yet, so she tried to back away at first, but then returned the hug.  

ignoring warner still standing at the door, you both tried to think of an explanation for being immune to her touch, but couldn’t come up with anything. but you both were mutually glad you could be physically close again without a barrier. 

warner interrupted your touching moment with his questions to juliette about the night before, to which she was angry he brought up again. you knew she still thought she killed jenkins, so you cut in to let her know he was fine (mostly). they both went back and forth for a bit before you had to say your goodbyes to juliettes, dragged away by warner to your own room.

after that, he did his other part of the agreement and got your guard, kenji, to do it. while the two of you didn’t interact much, you knew he was better than the other guards assigned to you. he also often had thoughts that made you silently laugh when he wasn’t looking. 

you also saw warner quite frequently, more than you thought you would it was becoming annoying to you. he would pop up in your room almost every day - when you were in bed, walking in the room, getting out of the bathroom, etc. there was even a time you had just gotten out of the shower with a towel around you and, low and behold, he was there on your bed, with his arms behind his head looking in your direction.

you shrieked and ran back into the bathroom, yelling at him to get out. he laughed in response, telling you he didn’t mind the view, but let you know he’ll wait outside your room.

when you returned to your bed, you noticed he had left something there, clothes. he even chose the undergarments. he had the audacity to pick out your outfit after coming unannounced. but... you did end up wearing it because, hey, the guy knows how to style. 

after noticing you wore what he put out, he made it his mission to pick an outfit for you every day, even if he wasn’t physically there, he would send a guard with the clothes. 

it was annoying how good his fashion sense was because you deeply wanted to protest this and wear your own choice, but the clothes were just so pretty it was hard. you never had worn such expensive clothes before it felt nice to be able to now, even though you were basically a prisoner here. and you didn’t need to hear his thoughts to know it made warner even cockier than normal when you wore the clothes. 

whenever warner visited you it was barely ever for anything important, mostly stupid questions about yourself as if he didn’t know much of your life story. but when you tried to turn the tables and ask him personal things, he would answer vague or change the subject - even on the topic of his first name.

you saw juliette when you could, kenji was pretty lenient on it whenever you asked him to take you to her. 

the two of you discussed warner, the reestablishment, and when the topic of adam came up she admitted he could touch her as well, which was a big surprise. made you a little sad you weren’t the only one special now. she explained how she found out, and also went on to say he hadn’t betrayed you both and was going to help you and her escape. knowing there was a chance for escaping made it easier for you to live there. 

however, there were days that really made you hate warner - when he made you and juliette, witness him killing a man in person, showcasing you both like a brand new toy, his ruthless demeanor and unsympathetic nature towards others, etc. but the big one was the day he prepared some type of testing for you and juliette. 

both of you wearing a thin tank top and shorts, way more revealing than the two you were used to. the both of you uncomfortable from the stares it got from the guards. juliette was then taken into a different room from yours. you were led to a room; there wasn’t much in it except a two-way mirror several feet in front of you. you assumed warner and others would-be behind there observing whatever they set up. 

you didn’t know what was to come until dozens of guards began entering the room. as they came closer to you, you could hear all their different thoughts overlapping, getting louder, and overwhelming you. 

you guessed warner wanted to see how’d you react with so many people’s thoughts in the same room - if you were able to stop it altogether, stop some of it, or if it was overwhelming and made your head hurt, like in this moment. 

to an outsider, it was silent, but to you it was as if you were in a busy crowd walking by, hearing all the different types of conversations. you made another guess that warner told them prior to your ability, so to make sure they use their thought more than usual. 

you tried your best to focus, but it was getting to be too much that you started crouching down and holding your head. you closed your eyes and tried to concentrate on yourself. focus, try to make it stop, you told yourself. you could barely hear your own thought from all the noise of the others. stop. stop. please. be quiet. stop it.

“stop! shut up!” you shot up and yelled out, frustrated. it was quiet; you didn’t hear anything. your relief was short-lived as your eyes went wide when saw everyone in the room was now crouched or kneeling down, holding their heads as they shouted out in pain. 

you didn’t understand what happened; all you did was block them out. you did this, you realized you were hurting them. 

you looked around at everyone, trying to figure out how to help, but their pleas and begs for you to stop increasingly grew. you again couldn’t think with everyone shouting at you in agony, it was much worse than when you only heard their thoughts. 

you tried to talk to them, “i’m sorry! i-i don’t know what happened! i’ll fix this! please, i just need a moment to think!” you were quickly panicking and feeling like you were going to cry, burst, or both. a fire feeling was bubbling up inside of you.

you couldn’t control it, your body took over, and you closed your eyes and let out a loud yell - falling down onto your knees. 

instantly, everyone and everything in the room was pushed by an invisible force serval feet back. the mirror separating you from the observers was also broken into hundreds of pieces.

you gasped, both hand covering your mouth as you saw the damage done. did you really do all of this? you didn’t understand how it was possible. you backed against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor and pulling up your knees to hug them.

during your breakdown, warner must’ve come out of the other room because he had come slowly walking toward you. you didn’t want to be near anyone at that moment, much less the man responsible for this experiment. he didn’t get too close before you put a hand out to tell him to stop, but instead, it accidentally sent him flying a foot or two back, resulting in him stumbling on his back to the floor. 

you again gasp, horrified. you hadn’t even meant to do that. you felt like an out-of-control monster. unlocking a new ability should’ve been fun, but this was too traumatizing for you. 

you buried your head into your knees and started sobbing, begging for this to all be a dream and that you didn’t actually just hurt a ton of people with your powers. you felt like the star of the carrie movie. 

during all your crying, warner had gotten up again and kneeled beside you. you would’ve been shocked he wanted to be near you again if you weren’t so disoriented. he pulled you close to him, petting your hair in an attempt to soothe you. you were too physically and mentally exhausted to protest his comfort. 

it was all a blur when you were taken back to your room and tucked into bed by warner. you had no energy to change, shower, or even try to check on juliette. you blacked out before you knew it. 

juliette sought you out the next day; she also looked distressed. before she could even talk, you knew from mental images what had gone down. you held her close and cursed warner up and down for doing that to her. you were also astounded at her newfound ability. she asked about you, and you confided in her what had happened with your testing. similar to you she was bewildered to learn what else you could do. 

she brought up the topic of escaping again, and you were happy to jump on that topic. adam then walked into the room; you both greeted each other with a hug - you hadn’t realized how long it had been since you saw or even interacted with each other. you three then divulged into possible ways to leave; the quicker the better. but you were interrupted when an alarm went off in the whole building, commanding all soldiers to gather. juliette urged adam to go to avoid suspicion. 

he hesitated, and in that moment, warner barged into your room. he gave juliette and adam questioning glances, “soldier, what are you two doing here, there an alarm.” 

adam was quick with an excuse. “we were already here before the alarm went off. i wasn’t sure what to do with them as juliette was under my watch, which also extends to her sister.” 

if warner thought he was lying, he didn’t show it. “alright, as you can see, i’ll handle it from here. please escort juliette back to her room before you go.” 

adam nodded and lead juliette out the door, not before she could shoot a worried glance to you. 

now it was just you and warner. he didn’t say anything for a moment, then he asked what you and juliette were discussing. you were honest but kept it short and responded by saying you were talking about the testing the day before. he went silent again.”

“do you write?”

you were thrown off, huh? “not particularly no.” 

“hm. weird because i wandered across this in juliettes room.” 

he had brown worn out notebook with fade florals on it. you internally gasped when you noticed it was your old journal.

for context, when you were around 6, you were given a journal to practice writing but ended up keeping it for personal use. you used it over the years - up until you were taken away. juliette must’ve saved it for you because it had left your mind during those 3 years of isolation. you couldn’t barely even remember what you put in it. 

“uhm, thats not mine.” you mentally face palmed.

“no? it says your name on the cover of it.” 

curse your six year old self. 

he came closer, “it’s honestly cute when you try to lie, amor.” 

you prayed your cheeks didn’t have hints of pink.

“i’m gonna need that journal back.”

“hm, alright, but i’ll need a favor first.” 

“what favor?”

“read my mind.” 

you were taken aback, no one had been so desperate to have their mind read as much as warner. in fact you can’t name a single person whose ever asked you. you needed an excuse and quick. 

“no, i rather not.” you tried to keep your face neutral. 

“why? are you that repulsed to see inside my head, or is there another reason? my bet is on the latter.” oh no. 

you were saved from answering when a gun was pointed at warner, and at the one pointing it was your sister. “get away from her.” 

you were so proud of juliette in that moment, but then a gun was pressed to your chest. 

“i’ll shoot.” 

“you’d be an idiot then.” 

warner didn’t need to respond because adam came in and hit him hard with the butt of his own gun. however, this caused warner to misfire on the part of your thigh. 

you held back a scream; you didn’t want juliette or adam to see and worry - they were preoccupied with warner, handcuffing him to the wall. luckily, you were wearing black pants that day, so the blood wasn’t visible if you weren’t paying close attention. 

adam grabbed duffel bags and put them near the window, and then you realized you were going to have to jump, and now you werent sure if you could. 

“we need to leave now.”

“you can’t seriously believe you can trust kent, he’s using the both of you.” 

you scoffed. “as if you’re any better.”

“i only want you to reach your potential amor.” 

juliette cut in with her gun pointed, “shut up and call off your soldiers.” 

he let out a humorless laugh, “over my dead body.” 

after realizing he will provide no help, you all gathered near the window. 

“you’re making a mistake, both of you! don’t tell me you’ve fallen for kent’s romantic notions like your sister.” 

“no, but i trust him a whole lot letter than you.” 

“we have a connection and you know it.” 

“no-” “i can be patient, and you’ll learn to love me-”

“stop!” “no one understands you like me!”

adam shut him up by hitting him again, making warner stagger back.

he returned to the window, “we’ll have to climb then jump off. i’ll go first and catch each of you.” 

“you can’t touch her.”

no one answered warner. “wait, amor, can he touch her?” 

you ignored him despite his constant repeat of the question. 

adam went out the window, and then signaled for you and juliette to go down. 

you looked down at your leg; not too severe, but it was painful, and needed attention very soon. warner was also on the verge of breaking free of the handcuff, so it wouldn’t be long before he chased after you all. you decided in that moment you couldn’t hold them back if they wanted to escape. 

juliette was climbing down, gesturing for you to follow suit, but you stood still.

“juliette, i’m not going.”

“what? why? don’t tell me warner go to your head.”

“of course not, it’s just...juliette i’m injured.”

she climbed up a bit enough to see your leg, and she gasped. she started asking why you didn’t say anything, but you briskly interrupted that you’ll hold her and adam back, it was best if you didn’t go. no matter how much you wanted to leave this wretched place. 

she of course, protested, saying she won’t leave you behind. behind you, you could sense warner breaking free and coming toward you both.you worried you’d have to do plan b. 

“i love you, don’t hate me for this.” 

“for what-” “adam get ready to catch her!” 

warner was next to you in a second, reaching for juliette, but you quickly pushed the rest of the rope in the window out - leaving juliette to fall straight down into adam. 

you tackled warner to the ground to prevent him from reaching out to stop the rope. but you noticed the brush of their hands before her fall. he could touch her too. 

you didn’t have time to contemplate because the pain in your leg made itself known again, oozing more blood. you noticed some blood had seemed onto warner when you tackled him. crap you forgot too much blood loss = death was a thing for a moment. 

you rolled off our warner and ripped off a piece of your dress to try and wrapped it around the wound. 

warner recovered and noticed you were hurt, he looked worried and quickly removed his coat to use as a makeshift tourney kit. “what happened?” 

“your misfire.” 

he frowned, “never meant to actually shoot you amor.” 

soldiers were piled in the room in an instant, warner demanded adam and juliette be brought back, and alive. 

he carried you to the infirmary and sat next to you as the medics handled your injury. 

when the medics left the room, you could tell he was going to start questioning you. 

“you’ve been a very bad girl you know, helping your sister and kent escape.”

“is this the part where you torture me for information? i don’t know where they went.” 

“oh, i know. but maybe some spanking ought to straight you out.” 

you turned to him alarmed, “what? you’re not serious, right.”

he grabbed your chin, “hm, i don’t know, do you promise to be a good girl?” 

your face flamed red, “s-shut up!” 

he laughed at you, amused, “you’re too cute.” 

he eventually went off, assuming to check on how the hunt for juliette and adam was going. you prayed they made it our alright. 

your leg was feeling much better, you could now walk in it with a small limp. might’ve just been the painkiller, but regardless it was enough you were released to go off to your room that night. 

warner escorted you back, not trusting his soldiers, and preventing a second escape attempt. as you both walked the halls you heard whispers about kishimoto being under investigation, in other words being tortured in a cell right now. 

you immediately asked warner about it and he shrugged saying he was friends with adam and was your guard, so he wanted to ensure he had no information concerning the escape. you tried to defend him, saying he wasn’t involved, but warner didn’t yield and that he would be the judge of that.

he helped you into bed, making sure you were comfortable. then he stood by the door, getting ready to leave.

“don’t think your off the hook just yet, i’ll question you tomorrow, especially involving your sister and me being able to touch her.” 

oh shit, he noticed. of course he did, he’s a perceptive bastard.  

“and, it’s aaron.” 

you threw a confused look. “my name, it’s aaron.” and with that he walked out, locking your door securely. 

huh. aaron warner. interesting. 

when you awoke the next day you were again with aaron warner by your side. he waited for you to get dressed then took you with him wherever he went. 

you could sense something was wrong but didn’t want to ask. from a few whispers and thoughts, you were able to find out what happened- kenji kishimoto escaped. you were silently cheering, glad he was no longer being tortured. he was your favorite guard after all. you hoped somehow he was with adam and juliette and they were all safe. 

you were proven drastically wrong when hours later, you found out they had been spotted and taken by the soldiers back to the base. 

warner was very pleased with the news, he ordered adam to be sent to the dungeons while juliette was to be heavily restrained.

you asked warner to speak to them, but mainly juliette. he obviously declined - he didn’t need to you and them trying to escape again. you didn’t let up and continued asking and begging, saying he could be there to supervise, you just wanted to make sure they were okay. 

“please aaron.”

he seemed taken aback by the title and stayed stunned for a moment. he then dragged you away, and you assumed he’d be taking you to juliette. however, instead, you were led to a room, his room, you realized. 

his back was turned to you, “i was surprised when i found out juliette’s touch didn’t affect me, probably the same way you were when you discovered the same. i couldn’t conjure an explanation as to why, and still can’t. but then i started thinking about you and your ability.” he turned around to face you, slowly creeping closer. “i thought about all those times i asked you to read me, but you refuse or avoided it. at first, i thought you were doing to in protest, or even because you had no interest in doing so.” you gulped. “ then this new revelation came and it occurred to me, maybe juliette’s not the only one i’m immune to.” 

he stood directly in front of you, and you were so nervous you wanted to throw up. “you can’t read my mind or thought, can you amor?” 

you went wide-eyed, he knew. you didn’t say anything, still paralyzed. 

he caressed your cheek, “that scares you, not knowing what i’m thinking. must make you even a bit mad.” you couldn’t breathe. he was so close, you felt his breath, and the gun in his jacket pocket. 

“don’t let that stop you from loving me. my every thought is yours, if you want it, and i so desperately want you to want it.” 

he roughly leaned in and pressed your lips together, you couldn’t think for a moment too shocked, but then you remember the gun. 

you kissed back in an attempt to get closer to the jacket. you acted as if you were feeling on his chest, and slowly trying to get your hands on the weapon. 

he murmured, “we’ll be so good together,” before diving in for another deep kiss. you tried to keep up with his rushed lips to keep him distracted.

aaron was so absorbed into the kiss he didn’t notice the gun pressed against the side of his chest. 

you pulled back, his lips following after your before you lightly pushed him away. looking at him directly in the eyes, “i’m sorry it had to come to this.” pow. 

his face was full of confusion, horror, pain, and betrayal before he crumpled on the ground. 

you wasted no time in running off to find juliette before someone found warner. it didn’t take long after reading a few thoughts and taking some guesses of your own. 

you entered to see her on a hospital-like bed with restraints on her arms to legs to keep her immobilized. you were quick to free her and get her back on her feet. once she regained her full consciousness, you both went off to find adam.

you snuck up on a few soldiers and knocked them out with your gun, juliette mainly knocking them out with her strength, and found adam pretty easily. he was in chains hanging by his arms, with his head down. he looked to be heavily injured as well. 

you took care of breaking him free while juliette woke him up. he had trouble standing, so you both carried him by his arms and hurried toward the exit. you three quickly came up with a solution to get out; the guards hadn’t noticed warner or the fact the prisoners escaped yet. 

you all ran outside, helping juliette carry adam. he was heavy, but you carried on, not knowing when guards would start chasing you three.

you and him were left for a moment while juliette went off and before you knew it you were inside a car “woah, where’d you get this!”

juliette was in the driver seat preparing to leave and turned to you, “long story short, it’s stolen”

“cool. wait you know how to drive?” 

“no.”

with adam’s guidance, soon enough, you all were off to your not-sure-where. you were in the back seat while adam and her were in front. juliette had taken the liberty of catching you up on events during the escape, mainly about kenji and james. 

adam and juliette discussed where they could be and then found them. 

you greeted kenji and introduced yourself to james, he was a very sweet boy and seemed a bit excited by this whole situation. having known a bit about you, he asked you to tell him what number he was thinking, to which you couldn’t help but do it. he beamed excitedly. 

juliette was the one to bring up warner, “how’d you escape him, i’m sure you were under heavy surveillance after we left.’ 

“oh..i uhm... shot him.” after he kissed me. 

everyone turned to you, shocked at the revelation, juliette was proud of you for defending yourself, and the rest of them were just struck you even had the chance to do it.

kenji then switched with juliette, leading the drive to this supposed location of people who could help. 

you fell asleep, and when you awoke, there was a large facility like building in the middle of nowhere. 

you got out of the car, helping carry adam again, and rushed into the building. inside there were numerous of people, more than you ever expected. adam got taken away by, what you assumed were, medics. but juliette had many questions. you were too stunned looking around to form anything. at some point a man had introduced himself to us as castle; he seemed like the head of this place. 

you snapped back when you saw juliette hounding kenji, getting dangerously close to him, and then accidentally touching him. it wasn’t enough to kill, but he was still quite injured a bit to be taken away by medics like adam. juliette was then sedated and that’s when your concerns were raised. 

it was your turn to ask questions, but not wanting to end up like juliette, you remained calm. castle briefly explained you all were in a place called ‘omega point’ and its purpose was to build a group of gifted individuals to help them understand their gift. it went against the reestablishment was basically a rebellion against them. 

overwhelmed by information, you asked to be taken to where you would sleep. castle led you to a room and informed you you’d be rooming with two other girls, along with juliette. your sister was already there, still passed out from whatever they gave her. the two twin sisters, who you found out had healing abilities, introduced themselves as sara & sonya. they seemed nice, and you could tell you’ll easily be friends. 

you bid them goodnight after they reassured you adam, kenji, and juliette would all be fine. 

after that first day, the days passed by quickly. you were given a suit to wear, a red leather corset-like top, black leather pants, and a long dark red leather coat, accompanied with black fingerless gloves and black boots. it made you feel like a superhero in it. 

you practiced with castle to help learn to block out unwanted thoughts, which a major relief to learn. he was also helpful in managing your new telekinetic ability since he had the same. another ability you were slowly practicing was mental manipulation, you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to mind control someone, so it wasn’t focused on much, but still learned from time to time. 

you admit, you had a better time adjusting than juliette; she was keeping to herself, having lunch with only you, adam, and occasionally kenji. you couldn’t blame her; the asylum doesn’t exactly help in forming relationships. her relationship with adam was a huge step as it is, and you were proud of her for it. 

eventually, you were stable enough to go on outdoor missions. the first time you went was an unforgettable experience. you saw what society was like after all these years, it was horrible the conditions people were living in under the reestablishment. 

that day you also saw aaron for the first time in a few weeks. you were glad he was alive because it really hadn’t been your goal to kill him. he was wearing a cast on his left arm, near where you shot him. you wondered if he told anyone what happened or changed the story. 

he also saw him human for the first time. when no one was looking, he fed and injured dog, even carrying him for a bit. you found the sight cute. it almost felt like a dream. 

it almost got you caught by him; you swore you made .1 second eye contact before you were turned invisible and taken away by kenji. you didn’t know what could’ve happened if he recognized you. 

after that, you frequently joined them on the outside missions, aaron was there for almost all of them, which left you wondering why. you even encouraged juliette a few times, and she even ended up following along on the most recent one making friends with winston and brendan. 

after the task you got back to your room, juliette made a stop to adam, and it was empty. you took off the clothes given to you to blend in, removing your tattered jacket and replacing it with your red one. 

you were folding the coat to put away for next time when something fell out of the pocket, a paper. 

you didn’t remember putting anything in, so you figured it was there when it was given to you weeks ago. but then again, you should’ve noticed by now if it was. 

curious, you unfolded the piece of paper and looked at it contents. 

you gasped out loud, dropping the paper on your bed in the process. 

see you soon, amor. -your injured dearest, A.W. 

oh, you were fucked. 

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