#and when i finally got rid of it over two years ago i have so much more free time

[lanabenikosdoormat]

tiktok being down for a day just goes to show how reliant people are on their doomscrolling and brainrotting. like i don’t agree with the practice of it being taken down, but if it shut down organically like vine did — it’d be a net positive

[lqveharrington]

Gentleman | R.L.

summary: remus lupin is the perfect gentleman.

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: fluff, you and sirius are practically siblings, rem defending his girlfriend, someone gets pushed off a boat

a/n: all my inspo literally comes from the music i listen to 😭

James had invited the entire group down to the lake for the summer because it was the last summer before the last year of Hogwarts. He thought it should be memorable, and everyone loved the idea. His parents allowed him to borrow the lake house and boat, but only if everyone's parents were okay with it. Of course, your parents trusted you with your friends. The only rule was to stay in separate rooms from your boyfriend. Oopsies.

As the Potters’ boat slowed to a calm stop, the summer wind continued to blow through the air, the clouds nonexistent in the blue sky. The sun shimmered across the lake water and the radio played the top hits of the month, the sound drowning from the talking of the boat’s riders.

When Sirius had enough of all the chitchat, he quickly shed himself of his top and jumped into the lake water, splashing Marlene who was trying to tan on the boats end. She cursed him out and threatened to pull the ladder away when he splashed her again.

Witnessing the entire interaction, you hid a laugh behind a smile and left the girls to sit beside Remus who was sitting underneath the shade of the boat. You tucked your legs underneath your lap and leaned your chin on his shoulder. On instinct, his calloused hand found the space underneath your calf and gently squeezed even when talking to James. You admired his face glowing in the sun for a beat, eyes following the scars that were left behind from bad nights before he finally turned and met your loving eyes.

“Hey.” You murmur and grin when you felt him press a soft kiss to your lips. “Sirius just went into the water." He hummed and kissed you again, making you hum and separate once more. "You don't want to join him?”

“And leave you here all by yourself? What type of man do you think I am?” He thumbed your leg and felt for the rushing blood, ensuring there was a pule and that you were in fact real. It was a habit he was quick to have learned because of a full moon incident a year ago.

You shrug and rest your cheek on his shoulder instead, watching the gulls fly by and circle the food James was grilling. As he tried fighting them off with tongs, Lily and Dorcas began to draw sunscreen images on Marlene's back, not bothering to cover up their giggles.

“You don’t want to join the girls?” Remus tilted his head and scanned your side profile, following the contour of your face. He memorized every single bump and crease, gingerly tucking a piece of loose hair behind your ear when you looked back over at him.

You raise a brow at his guilty smile and analyze his mannerism, rubbing the one bit of sunscreen into his cheek. "What?"

“You just wanna stay in the shade with me, don't you, dovey?" He brought his hand up and gently cupped your cheek, pulling you close enough so he could press a kiss to your temple.

“Of course, wherever you are, I follow.” You grin as a blush creeps up your neck, not realizing Sirius had gotten out of the water and rolled his eyes at how affectionate the both of you were being.

“You two are so gross." He covered his eyes before shaking his head like the dog he was — ridding himself of all the water he brought up with him.

You groaned when you got hit with the water, glaring at the long-haired boy. He stuck his tongue out at you which you retaliated with your middle finger. You swore that Sirius had a secret hatred for you since you began dating Remus over a year ago.

Sirius gasped at your gesture and put a hand on his chest, returning the finger. Remus rolled his eyes at the both of you and gave you a pointed look, making you cover it with your hand.

"Prongs, do something! The lady won't go down without a fight!" SIrius complained and popped a soda can out of the cooler, leaning against the railing of the boat.

“Mate, I don’t know what you want me to do.” James threw him a confused look and reached inside the cooler to hand Lily her own can. "Besides, I can't do much here."

“You could toss her over board." Sirius muttered loud enough for you to whip your head toward him and glare.

"You were being mean first!" You move to stand only to be pulled back down into your seat. From the corner of your eye, you saw Remus pursing his lips in thought, making you sigh. "Rem—"

“Sit.” He practically commanded, rolling his eyes once more when you crossed your arms and legs in annoyance. But when you noticed his quick wink, you realize what he was going to do.

You smiled slyly toward Sirius when he met your eyes again. The poor unsuspecting bloke. Sirius gave you an annoyed look and went to say something — probably insulting all women — when Remus pulled him aside.

Assuming Remus was going to hangout with him instead of you, Sirius stuck his tongue out before yelping in surprise as Remus pushed him off the boat. Your eyes widened with a smile, stretching your neck to see where Sirius was flailing. The three girls burst out into laughter at the predicament and quickly moved away from all the splashing water, grabbing a polaroid to take a picture before he could get out. James just shook his head in disbelief, clasping his arm around Sirius’ and helping him up.

Remus tossed a towel in Sirius' direction before sitting beside you again, kissing the side of your head like nothing happened. You gave him cheeky smile and laced your hand with his.

“What a gentleman.” You chide before letting out a noise of surprise at the feeling of his lips on yours, dropping your hand to lay flat on his chest.

“Some gentleman you are.” Sirius muttered as he dried himself off. When he realized Remus was staring back at him with an unimpressed look, he took a huge step back behind James and quickly apologized. “Kidding, I’m kidding.”

You send him another death glare before staring up at Remus with soft eyes as he thumbed your palm, a small smile taking over your face. "You know we're probably going to get pranked anytime soon, right?"

"As long as I spend quality time with you, I think I'll be fine. Besides, he won't try anything too bad." Remus tilted your head up with his index finger. "I'm a gentleman anyway."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[dollerines]

How I entered the void so easily after 1 year of trying

So after 1 year and half of trying to enter I finally did it and I am so mad because it REALLY IS SOOOOO EASY and tbh if in this post you are looking for any sort of validation or info you smart ass already know then please REMEMBER THIS : entering the void is extremely easy. You just have to do it in a way that resonates with you.

Personally for me since I had adhd I couldn’t just stay still and affirm for 1 or even a few for 10 mins. Not just because I was lazy but because just repeating “I am in the void” for so long gets me tired and makes me think of the void more and you actually don’t want to think too deeep about it. I couldn’t wake 3 hours prior and then affirm or even have the patience to do the psych k, yes I was extremely lazy back then and unpresistent but one thing that helped me even backed then was THE ALPHA STATE MEDITATION !

You just have to find what works for you, find a method technique whatever you want to do that doesn’t seem like a chore. So In a post back then I found on @gorgeouslypink acc talking about doing the alpha sate meditation and I tried it back then and I felt really relaxed and it was a good feeling but like I said back then I was realllly lazy so after a few mins I stopped. Then many months later passed and I was still looking for anything and everything on the void. Then just like two days ago I came across another post which was pretty simple and the technique I used was called the DISTRACTED TECHNIQUE.

All there was to do was the usual you get into a comfortable position and then she said to use the alpha state meditation and used the one gorgeouslypink recommended. So I used it and then what she tell you to do is to just think of anything else just get distracted basically and this WAS SO GOOD 4 ME because back then I had adhd so it made it harder to concentrate on just affirming and so yeah I just thought of random things and then at some point where I was completely distracted I felt my body like lift up 😭 if that makes sense I just can’t clearly describe it. It felt really like a shift and I was like ‘panicking’ in a way but I wasn’t actually panicking I just kinda became aware what was going and then I got scared a little but I just relaxed shortly after. Also my fan that was making like a loud noises was coming in an out and then I only hear it in one ear and then I didn’t hear anything and I just stayed there wondering if I reached the void and i actually was!!! I didn’t feel my body it felt like I had no body at all and it was pitch black just like how I imagined the void to be. For a few minutes I just stayed there feeling the most surreal peace I have ever felt. I needed that peace fr 💀.

So then I affirmed for my desires all I said was “I have all my desired results from my subliminal playlist.” Then just to be extra sure I just said “I have everything I want.”

At that point I got really excited and then I wiggled my toes to get out because I was too dam happy I needed to see all my shit the moment I wake up and then I slowly started getting out and when I tell you I cried for like a good dam minute when I woke up and saw how DIFFERENT. My room looked. I literally screamed onto my pillow. I was so dam scare and yet excited to see how I looked.

WHAT I MANIFESTED :

Desired body and face

Having silky straight tailbone length hair cuz mines was originally curly

And everything in my sub playlist

My desired boyfriend and guys I made him be like Gojo Satoru ( because we are all delusional over him 🤪) and let me tell you he is so tall, handsome, sexy and a literal god. He is so silly too 🩷

Moving countries I now live in ny

Never actually meeting my ex and all the people in my old school forget me and have actually never even met me. Like if u asked them about me they have never heard or known me before

Extremely rich rich like hella bands

Got rid of my anxiety and mental health issue

Plus +++

NEVER EVER GIVE UP ON YOUR DREAMS.

Even if the circumstances seem to be eating you alive don’t mind that too much. Even if all seems hopeless don’t give up because you already know nothing can decide or be unless you give it power to be. So stop being goofy and take responsibility and DONT STRESS!! You don’t see God stressing do you. All he has to do is blink and whatever he wants to happen, happens. Plus a lot of confidence came from non dualism that I owe a huge thanks to @trynafindbarbiee she really said it like it is !!

YOU GOT THIS ML 🩷🩷🩷🩷

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ take a seat ] q. hughes

day 3 of kinktober (face sitting w/ quinn hughes)

paring : Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

summary: Quinn grows a playoff beard and his girlfriend loves it. the day he decides to shave it after the Canucks get eliminated, she tells him how she really feels about it and Quinn gives her the moment she’s been wanting since he started growing it before he shaves it

warning(s) : smut ! face sitting / riding, oral (f receiving), fingering

author’s note : been waiting to write this one hehe. it’s on the shorter side but i hope y'all enjoy anyway

kinktober schedule

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The playoffs have treated her and Quinn so well. Quinn because he got to captain the Canucks to the second round after a short 3 year playoff drought. Her because Quinn grew a playoff beard over the past month or so and she's barely managed to keep her hands off of him while he was playing.

She loves everything about the playoffs, but especially the fact that Quinn hasn’t shaved in a few weeks. He looks so good with longer facial hair and she loves the way it tickles her lip when he kisses her. She kinda just wants him to go down on her for as long as possible to feel it against her core.

The thought of Quinn eating her out with the beard is enough to soak her. The feeling of his beard on her core is something she thinks about an unhealthy number of times over the course of three weeks. She’s gotten off multiple times just at the thought alone, especially when he's away playing in Nashville and Edmonton. She’s wouldn’t know what to do if it happened.

But the Canucks were eliminated by Edmonton last night so it’s time for Quinn to shave off the beard he has spent the past few weeks growing. He doesn't do it the day after their season ends because he wants to just lay around and have the laziest day ever, so she gets an extra day to admire him.

The morning of the day Quinn wants to shave his beard though, she wakes up before he does. He stopped setting alarms once the Canucks got eliminated two nights ago but she is naturally an early riser. She doesn't dare move because part of Quinn's morning routine is shaving. If she moves and wakes him up, he's going to go shave and that's the last thing she wants right now.

She softly sighs as morning Vancouver sun creates a muted orange glow throughout the room. Quinn already looks so good and he's not even awake yet.

All because of that stupid beard he grew.

Quinn begins to stir moments after she wakes. His eyes flutter open and look bright in the morning sunlight.

"It's creepy to stare at people while they sleep, baby," he tells her, his voice slurred since he just woke up. Also kind of raspy, which she loves.

"Not my fault you look pretty all the time," she replies. "I also just woke up a few minutes ago so give me a break. I wanted to admire my boyfriend before he woke up and started making comments that ruined the whole vibe."

He groans and rubs his face. He touches his facial hair and hums. "I gotta go get rid of this mess," he says. "Then you can admire me all you want, okay?"

Her eyes widen and Quinn begins to move to get out of bed. She quickly grabs his arm to stop him from getting any further.

"I like that mess," she finally admits to him. He turns back around and looks at her. She begins to talk before her brain can catch up to what she's saying. "I mean, you look really hot with that mess on your face. Except, I don't think it's a mess. I wish you wouldn't run off and shave it first chance you get."

Quinn blinks at her slowly like he's processing what she said to him. A smile grows on his lips and she presses her lips into a line.

"Come here," Quinn tells her as he lays back down. She blinks at him, confused. "I know you've thought about it. I've seen the way that you would look at me then excuse yourself to go use the bathroom." She feels her face get hot in embarrassment. She thought she was more subtle than she actually was.

She plays with her fingers while she watches Quinn get comfortable. "Quinn, I-"

"Come take a seat, pretty girl," he interrupts as he runs his fingers over his beard. "Sit on and ride my face. I know you want to so I am giving you what you want before I go shave."

Who is she to say no to him? He's offering so she might as well take it.

Without anymore hesitation, she moves so she's kneeling above his face with her knees on the pillow on either side of his head. Lucky for her, she's only wearing one of Quinn's Canucks t-shirts and a pair of underwear. Nothing else.

Quinn kisses the inside of her thigh right by her core while he pushes the fabric of the t-shirt up. She hums softly as her body finally begins to wake up. She feels the gentle scratch of his facial hair on her skin and she gnaws on her bottom lip. "Oh my God," she sighs.

"I haven't even done anything yet," Quinn laughs.

"Shut up and do something then," she retorts. "Please, Quinn." She's not above begging at this point.

He licks a stripe over her panties, which are soaked by now. Like she said, the thought alone makes her drip. His finger follows his tongue and she hums. Quinn pushes the fabric to the side and runs a finger through her soaked folds. She bites down on her bottom lip to keep from making any loud noises since it is morning and their neighbors are probably still sleeping.

She grabs onto the headboard above Quinn's head as he runs his tongue through her folds. "Fuck, Quinn!" She cries out. "Oh my God."

The feeling of the gentle scratch of his facial hair is almost too much for her. Quinn wraps his lips around her clit and hums, sending a shock through her body. It almost jumpstarts her own movements as she begins to roll her hips.

"That's it, baby," Quinn says against her core. "Take what you want."

His hands rest on her waist and he pulls her down so she's completely sitting on his face but he's still able to breathe. His tongue continues to run through her folds as she rolls her hips. Her core grinds across his face and she feels the scratch of his facial hair with each movement. She welcomes the new feeling. It only adds to her pleasure despite the beard burn she'll probably have when all this is over.

Quinn hums every so often, and she groans with every hum. Her grip on the headboard gets stronger the longer she moves. She's almost afraid that she'll lose her balance despite his hands keeping her from falling.

One of his hands slides up under the loose t-shirt and cups her breast. She throws her head back and lets out a borderline pornographic moan as she continues to ride Quinn's face. One of her hands flies to Quinn's messy hair, fingers finding a home.

He slides his other hand so his thumb can access her clit. He rubs the sensitive nub while continuing to run his tongue though her folds with each movement. "Oh my fucking- Quinn," she cries out. "Holy-"

"Look so pretty riding my face, pretty girl," Quinn mumbles. His words shoot straight to her core. "Fuck."

His thumb moves and slides into her. She gasps and her movement falters for a second while she recovers from the addition. "Quinn," she groans, holding the 'N' sound.

Between his tongue, his thumb, and his facial hair, she's not sure how she hasn't come all over his face by now. Her legs are shaking so she has to stop moving, but Quinn completely takes over despite being under her.

He speeds up his thumb for a second before switching fingers, using his pointer and middle fingers instead. She welcomes the familiar stretch.

His fingers and tongue are enough to bring her to the edge. She's white-knuckling the headboard with one hand while her other hand remains in Quinn's hair.

"Gonna come," she pants. "Quinn. I'm close."

"Told you to take what you want," Quinn replies. "So take what you want."

Quinn speeds up his fingers and curls them in a 'come here' motion. The gentle scratch of his facial hair turns less gentle as he speeds up his tongue movements, but she still loves it.

She throws her head back and cries out his name as she comes. She involuntarily rolls her own hips so her core grinds against his face again. Her fingers curl in his locks so she has something to hold on to as she reaches her climax. She loses her vision for half a second because of how hard her orgasm hits her.

Her body turns to jelly as she recovers. With Quinn's help, she's able to lie back down beside him. Her breathing is labored and she stares up at the ceiling, unable to move to look at her boyfriend.

All this morning showed her is that Quinn needs to grow out his facial hair more often because it made her come harder than she ever has before. She can't move for about ten minutes after her orgasm.

When she's fully conscious again, she looks over at Quinn. He didn't go and shave yet.

"I think I'm going to keep this for another day or two," he tells her. "Just for you. That is going to happen a few more times before it goes away."

She smiles and rolls so she can touch his face. "I'm going to need you to grow it out like this again soon because holy shit, Quinn," she giggles. "So hot. Felt so good."

Quinn matches her smile. "Maybe over the summer," he tells her. "No promises though."

"Gonna need my favorite seat back at some point."

"Next year when we make playoffs against for sure."

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MAIN MASTERLIST

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[banananutmuffin28]

can I request for Se-mi x fem reader where the reader is one of the pink triangle guards? Where she protects Se-mi and helped her get out of the game by betraying the other guards.

First ever ask!! Ofc ofc :D

Player Se-Mi x FEM! Guard Reader

Warnings: None.

A/N: Well…this became a lot longer than I anticipated! I hope you all enjoy!

Life has always been cruel to you.

And, you supposed you have been cruel back.

Your parents never cared about you, letting you wander the streets alone until you one day got lost.

You still remembered what happened, even though it transpired years ago.

It was dark out, and in the alleyway where you stood, not even the city lights could really dispel the darkness around you. 

Of course, like any child your age you were scared. Your hands had trembled, your lips curled into a sob, hoping that maybe just this once, your parents finally cared enough to rescue you.

But, that never happened, now had it?

You never were a stupid child; you were intimately aware of what horrors could unfold in this world -but you had never really, truly seen it happen firsthand.

Of course, that changed.

There was a clatter of metal against the dirtied cement, a scream, and then before you knew it you were face to face with a sad sod of a man. 

Though you barely remembered his words, you would always recall his hands-large and meaty-sinking deep into your delicate shoulders as he shook you with the desperation only a man in his final seconds of life could conjure. He was begging you to...save him, but from what you still hadn't known.

But before you could move, scream, or do anything of the sort, you heard a bang. Skin and flesh alike flew from his forehead, and his eyes rolled back to his skull as he suddenly slumped before you, coating your body with his blood.

And then, the man's limp body was pulled back, and as you cowered there in the dirt, you finally saw the face of the killer.

As he would later admit, he was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

The man readied his gun...but couldn't bring himself to shoot a child.

And so, instead, he gently ushered you to a black van parked by the side of the road, tied a blindfold over your eyes, and took you to the games.

He pleaded and begged the Front Man to let a child stay with him, arguing that you had no one left. And, in a way, you supposed that was true.

Eventually, the Front Man had agreed, and you would spend your formative years living with the man who saved you.

It was...certainly a sight to behold, watching a child roam the halls that, just hours ago, were soaked in blood.

And, when you were of age, you were granted a mask and an outfit. It was a triangle mask, just like the one of the man who saved you. 

In another life, perhaps you would’ve been happy, ridding the world of the trash with you and the man who had saved you.

But again, life struck, and this time it took away him too.

Apparently, he had spared a contestant he was meant to kill.

And, just like that, it was as if your world had crumbled all over again. At first, you were in denial. That man, whom you had grown to love as a father, was a ruthless killer. Surely they had misunderstood the situation? Surely, it was only a matter of time before he would've killed the player?

But, you soon learned that life had no time for your pondering. You would have to move on forward.

Your loss had...changed you. Soon, you would be known as one of the coldest of killers. You would spare no one, and relished in the panicked screams of the players.

After all, these vermin weren't human, right? And, those worms were what took your adoptive father away from you.

Not once did you ever question this sentiment. Sure, sometimes you felt fleeting sympathy, but that had never been enough to stop you from pulling the trigger.

You were a robot. You were ruthless.

But then, you met her.

The first time you two had locked eyes was outside of the games.

You were in a convenience store, buying some snacks and a drink for yourself. Hell, you were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't even realized it was your turn to pay until she cleared her throat.

"Hey, are you gonna pay or are you content with keeping your head above the clouds?"

Her voice was...soothing. It wasn't gentle by any means, but something about it stirred something in your heart.

You scrambled back, nearly knocking over the bag of makeup items behind you.

You turned to her, cheeks flushed, trying to regain some ounce of dignity, but it was to no avail. People never talked like that to you anymore; they were either too fearful or simply thought you weren't worth their time.

She tilted her head, lips curling into a grin as she leaned onto the table.

"So...are you going to pay or what?"

You only nodded, too fearful that if you spoke you would sound like a diseased frog. Without even looking back, you slammed the necessary payment onto the counter and hurried out the door.

The girl was only wearing a standard employee uniform.

So how did she look so damn pretty?

Despite that lackluster first meet, though, you had always come back. When you had entered the shop the next day, her eyebrows had furrowed in surprise and a grin danced across her lips.

She set aside the plastic cup she was holding and made her way to the register.

“I hope you don’t run off staring at clouds again,” She drawled, running a hand along the buttons of the register. “What can I get for you today, beautiful?”

How your ice cold heart didn’t explode at that very second was beyond you.

The days passed into weeks and soon, you found yourself visiting the store—her—every other day.

Eventually, you learned her name to be Se-Mi.

Se-Mi, Se-Mi, Se-Mi.

Her name dripped from your lips like the smoothest of honey.

You loved her piercings, her posture, and that damned smirk she always had.

She was so kind to you. You savored the quiet nights you'd spend with her out in the park, and whispered her name into your pillow before you slept.

Se-Mi had big, big dreams. Dreams of becoming a rockstar. Dreams of becoming a mechanic. Dreams of surviving this cruel world and making it out on top.

But, despite it all, you always kept her at an arm's length apart. After all, it was almost time for the games to begin. Soon, you would have to leave her to kill once again.

So, on the night before the first game would start, you left her a note on the convenience table where you two first met. You wrote of how you had to go, for your work was grueling and demanding, and you couldn't have her be caught in the crossfire.

You apologized for not meeting in person.

You never said goodbye. You couldn't. She needed to think of you as merely a fleeting presence, lest she catches feelings and finds out you're a killer.

You had planned on shooting your sorrows away.

So, imagine your surprise when you saw her wake up in the games.

Her? No, no, no, she couldn't be one of those disgusting vermin that plagued the streets. Se-Mi was so kind, so brave and headstrong.

She wasn't exactly well-off, but she couldn't have been struggling that much!

Surely, this was a mistake!

But, when you ran to the Front Man and asked him, he simply pulled out her file and handed it to you.

 It was not a mistake. In fact, SeMi was drowning in debt.

"I trust this won't be a problem to you?" He asked, leaning back into his plush chair as he swirled the liquor in his cup.

You swallowed.

"Of course not, sir."

The Front Man stood still for a moment, then sighed. 

“If you were anyone else, I would shoot you because clearly, this is a conflict of interest and we need to keep these games fair,” He finally said at last, shaking his head. “But…you have more than proved yourself to be loyal to us, to me. I trust you won’t abuse it?”

Your heart stopped when you felt his icy eyes on you. When you nodded, he smiled.

“Good, good. After all, I would hate to see you befall the same fate as 097.”

The Front Man motioned for you to leave.

“Do not fail me. 098.”

—

As you left the room, you could feel your heart racing. All of a sudden, it was so much harder to breathe, to walk.

A whirlwind of thoughts raced in your mind, though one drowned out the rest.

You wouldn't be kind to her. Your brief time with her meant nothing; after all, she wasn't human.

Right?

When you stepped into the area of the First Game, you could barely keep yourself upright. Your hands trembled, immediately flying to your face to make sure that your mask was still on. Your legs nearly buckled when you watched as Se-Mi enter the Red Light Green Light

The gun felt ten times heavier in your hands.

During the duration of the game, you would not shoot her.

Of course, you tried to tell yourself that you weren't giving her special treatment! 

Everyone trembled in the games; if you shot everyone who shook slightly there would be no one left to inherit the prize! You were still impassive, it was still equal.

You didn't care about her. You never had.

But...like most lies people tell themselves, it came apart in the quiet of the night. Your fear for her echoed in every beat of your heart, in every gasping breath you took. You saw her lifeless body in the shadows, watched as bullets tore themselves into her skin and blood ran down her wounds.

Se-Mi, Se-Mi, Se-Mi. You couldn't let her die.

When the second game commenced, you could hardly suppress your nervousness as you watched her play Flying Stone.

It was a difficult game, after all.

And oh, when she passed through the finish line, you couldn't help but throw your hands in the air-much to the chagrin of your co-guards.

They stared at you questioningly, causing terror to sift in your heart.

During the third game, your eyes had met.

It was only for a split second, but feeling her gaze on you made you feel so...exposed. 

Your cheeks grew hot and your hands felt slippery.

You loathed how she looked at you, like you were some sort of monster.

Though, you supposed she wasn't quite wrong.

When you watched as Player 230 and his lackey dragged another man away, leaving Se-Mi alone, it felt as if your heart was breaking. It took every willpower in your body not to shoot them on the spot for doing such a thing.

Though, that willpower still wasn't enough for you not to intervene in some way.

After making sure none of the guards were watching, you waved at her in the shadows. When her attention turned to you, you acted. Frantically, you pointed towards a trembling duo in the far right corner of the carousel. 

The clock read ten seconds. If Se-Mi rushed, she could make it in time.

And, she did.

As you watched the door clamp shut behind her, a whirlwind of emotions appeared in your gut. What you just did couldn’t be chalked up to strictly following the rules.

You had helped her. You had tilted the odds to your favor by alerting her to safety. You had done the very thing the Front Man had warned you not to do.

So, why was it that you could barely summon any regret?

After Mingle had ended, you turned to leave, but stopped when you noticed Se-Mi trailing after you. Her arms were crossed together, and she chewed her bottom lip. 

And then, she gave you the tiniest of nods. 

Thank you, she mouthed.

You felt like your heart was exploding all over again.

For a brief moment, you thought that what you were doing was enough. You could oversee the games, and remain relatively impassive until Se-Mi was in danger, in which you could then give her a gentle nudge.

But then you remembered the next game.

The Special Game.

This time, instead of automated machinery, it was forks and fists. Instead of children’s games, it was pure, human violence. Instead of the threat of a bullet piercing through their skull, the only thing that would keep them going was their raw, unbridled rage for wanting to survive. Revenge would be enacted, and rivalries settled.

You couldn’t leave Se-Mi alone. There were too many unknown variables. Se-Mi never held back her tongue—it was one of the things you loved about her, in fact—but tonight it might also be what kills her.

Again, that terrible image of Se-Mi’s bloodied corpse popped into your mind. If she died, it would be all your fault because you let it happen. 

Fear flooded your veins. 

You won’t let that happen. You couldn’t lose someone else in this damned world. You couldn’t lose her.

That night, as the lights dimmed and the last of players were ushered from the bloodied bathrooms, you stared at the camera glued to the ceiling of your room. You knew someone was watching you on the other side, waiting.

Instinctively, you draped a blanket over your hands.

You couldn’t let them see how much they trembled.

Before you had meant Se-Mi, you never really cared about the camera in your walls. Sure, the lack of privacy was annoying, but in your mind, it also served as evidence to the higher ups that you were completely and utterly loyal to them.

In a way, they had saved you, after all.

But now? 

The way the camera was angled—tilted so that it could observe every inch of your room—made your skin crawl.

Suddenly, it seemed as if the air was being choked out of your lungs. Obsessively, you grabbed your mask and held it up your face.

If you ran into the room and protected Se-Mi, you wouldn’t get another chance. The entire organization would be after you—he would be after you.

Were you really willing to betray everything you’ve known for a girl you’ve only known for months?

But then, you remembered the time you spent with her. You remember those starry nights, those quiet evenings, and those chaotic days that had you sweating with a stupid grin on your face.

Se-Mi made you feel alive. With her, you were no longer a robot, but a person, free laugh and giggle whenever you’d want without fear of losing face or risking a punishment.

It was then that intercom rang, its cheery tone a stark contrast to the indecision and uncertainty that broiled in your gut.

“Soldiers, please get ready,” It sang.

You let out a sigh and stood up, eyes trained to camera, to the Front Man.

Your decision was made.

—

 The stomps of the other guards echoed across the corridors. You stood motionless, a gun in hand, as you pressed your hands against the cold concrete walls hiding you.

Soon, they would realize your absence and a search would be dispatched. But, for now, you were invisible.

Quietly, you slinked to a shadowy corner of the room. When you heard footsteps approaching, you ducked down and readied your gun.

Within moments, you saw the growing shadow of the manager. You crouched down, waiting for him to turn, then—

Without giving your doubt any time to fester, you leaped out of the shadows and pressed the gun to his head. Before he could shout, you shoved him against a wall and pulled out the pistol from his hoister.

“Move, and you die,” You snarl.

You watched as the man stammered, recognizing the tell-tale sign of fear alighting in his eyes through the mask.

“Y-you! What are you—“

You clamped his mouth shut.

“Shut up and take me to the players.”

The man trembled in your hands and a choked gasp escaped his lips. But, with another nudge of your gun, you got him to move.

When he started marching to the double decked doors, you smacked his back.

“Not there,” You whisper, grabbing his collar. “Take me through the tunnels.”

The man stiffened. His lips twisted into a question, then froze.

He nodded, and began walking the opposite direction. 

From your adolescent years spent in the games, you had picked up upon your share of rumors. You heard of soldiers purposefully missing to harvest the organs of the eliminated, and you heard that there was a secret escape hatch hidden somewhere among the concrete walls.

But, what had drawn your attention the most, was the rumor that there was another way to enter the main lobby where the players slept.

A young, curious you had traversed through the halls and found that very corridor, though you soon realized that only a manager’s mask could open the door.

Now, an older and more jaded you stood in front of the same very doors, caressing the steel barrier with a new sense of urgency.

You had to move. Fast.

Already, you were hearing the beginnings of a brawl: A thump here, a curse there.  

If you wanted any chance of saving Se-Mi, you had to act now. 

Quickly, you shoved the man in front of the motion sensors and gestured for him to gaze into the center. It whirred softly, and then—

“Identity confirmed. Access granted.”

Letting out a shaky sigh, you knocked the manager out, and then ran into the tunnels. It was dimly lit, but you didn’t care.

The screams of fighting and flesh tearing bounced across the walls. At another time, you wouldn’t have cared, but right now, the sound terrified you to the bone 

Soon, you saw a regular wooden door and immediately twisted the doorknob. 

Immediately, you were met with the sight of utter brutality. Corpses littered the floors and blood soaked the survivors. Some screamed at the sight of you while others fell back, eyes trained on the gun in your hands.

“Where’s Se-“ You cut yourself off with a cough. “Where's Player 380?”

The woman closest to you fell to the floor. 

“Do…do you mean Se-Mi?”

Before you could respond, you sensed footsteps approaching behind you. Without skipping a beat, you turned and coldly shot the two men creeping behind you.

They fell to the floor with a thud.

Then, you turned back and nodded. 

The woman stared at you, more frazzled than ever. Instinctively, she stepped back. 

“I…she should be over there,” She murmured, pointing to a corned of the room.

You nodded. 

“Thank you.”

As you ran, you tried to ignore the surprised shouts and gasps from the other players. Most fell back when you aimed your gun at them, but some looked at you curiously.

You glanced back at the double doors, and cursed.

The cameras had no doubt exposed your location to the others. Already, guards were pouring in, guns at the ready.

You were running on borrowed time. 

You rounded a corner and stayed near the shadows. Then, you heard a piercing scream that belonged to Se-Mi.

Gasping, you bolted towards the voice. There, you saw a man shoving her against the wall, sinking something into her neck.

You didn’t stop to think about it. You shot him in an instant.

Se-Mi fell to the floor, gasping for breath.

Blood was still flowing freely from the glass shard that lay pierced in her jugular. 

Fuck, you would have to take care of that later.

You looked back. The gunshot had alerted the other guards, who were now running to you, screaming.

Running in raw adrenaline, you hoisted an injured Se-Mi into your arms and zig zagged across the pillars holding the bunk beds. Bullets flew by you and one grazed your shoulder. 

You bit your lip, but didn’t make a noise.

“What are you doing?” Se-Mi demanded, fear lacing the edges of your tone. Her arms wrapped around your neck, angling her head in a way that rested against your shoulders. 

You stiffened. 

“I can’t let them hurt you.”

The second you whispered the words, you saw recognition flash in her eyes.

The beginning of your name was being murmured from Se-Mi, almost questionably, but the sound of footsteps approaching.

Cursing, you hid behind a pillar, and when their attention was drawn elsewhere you dashed to the corridor from where you entered.

The two of you were still breathing heavily when you set her down in the middle of the tunnel. You had locked the door, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they found you and broke in.

Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “A…are you hurt anywhere, Se-Mi?”

She stood there for a moment, rubbing her hands together. Her lip piercing glinted in the dull light, and for a few seconds you were enchanted by her. Blood clung onto her tracker, and you knew she hadn’t showered in days, but that still didn’t stop your heart from fluttering.

And then, she laughed.

Startled, you stepped back. 

“Am I hurt?” She wheezed, and you immediately cringed at your question. “Of course I’m fucking hurt. I have this bitch of a wound on my jugular and I’m covered with cuts. Everything hurts like hell!”

Despite yourself, a blush raged on your cheeks.

“I-I, okay, that was a stupid question-“

“Terrible, even,” She chimed in, the faintest of smirks curling at the edges of her lips. 

You nodded, “Yes, terrible and dumb but-“ 

You gestured towards her legs. “Are there any that would hinder you from running?”

Se-Mi frowned. 

“No, not really.”

You blew out a breath.

“Good, because if we want to escape this place we need to be able to move. Fast.” 

Gently, you helped pry the shard from her neck. It had stopped bleeding now, but it wouldn’t take much to reopen the wound.

“We have to get going, now,” You muttered, and started marching towards the other end of the hall.

“Wait,” Se-Mi hissed, tugging you back. Her voice was softer now, but still held conviction. “Aren’t you going to…explain yourself?”

You stopped, dread pooling in your gut.

When you turned to look at her, you couldn’t meet her gaze.

“I…fuck,” You glanced at the door, fearful that it would break open at any moment. “Se-Mi, we should do this later.”

You swallowed.

“I promise that when we get out of here, I’ll come clean and explain everything. But, right now we need to hurry and run while they still can’t find us.”

Se-Mi stepped closer. She laced your fingers together and flicked your mask.

“Can you still take this off,” She murmured, tugging you closer. “I want to see you. Not some…pink clown trying to cosplay the Nintendo loading screen.”

You let out a snort. “Pink clowns? I’m rather offended.”

Se-Mi smiled coyly. “Don’t spit on your luck, honey, that was my nicest of comparisons. And besides.”

She paused, her face growing softer. “I want to see you. I…I missed your face.”

That blush on your cheeks was now a raging inferno.

 But, before you could reply, she added quickly, “Getting that letter really hurt my feelings, you know? I need to see your face again to make it easier for me to imagine giving you a nice, clean punch after all you did.”

You bowed your head. Despite the mirth, you could sense genuine pain hiding underneath. You knew you had a lot to make up for.

“I…understand.”

Tenderly, you unclasped your mask. Then, you slid down the jet black face covering, revealing your face to her.

Se-Mi gasped softly.

“It really is you,” She whispered.

Se-Mi cupped your face carefully, as if she was worried you were merely an illusion in her mind. You leaned into her touch, humming.

And then you felt soft lips on your own.

A gasp left your lips at the sudden contact, but then she kissed you again and suddenly all your thoughts vanished.

Roughly, she pinned you against the wall and laced your fingers with hers. The noise that left your lips was embarrassing. 

When she finally pulled away, you were gasping for air. Your cheeks were blazing, and you were sure even the tips of your ears and neck were tinted with pink.

Se-Mi smirked at you, and pulled you by the collar. Just then, you heard pounding on the walls.

“You sure have a lot to make up for me once we’re safe,” She cooed. “Put your mask back on and lead the way, beautiful.”

You nodded dumbly, and started running.

A/N: Oh my God. I still can’t believe this ask grew so much, haha! If you guys want a part 2, please do not hesitate to let me know! I hope you liked it!

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - FINAL PART - Bonus

"Let me see"

You mentioned while laughing, sitting in front of the man who looked at you affectionately as you touched his face and observed him attentively.

"Your eye looks a bit red... Have you been using the drops the doctor recommended?"

Curly: "Maybe... I forgot them... today"

His voice was still somewhat strange to hear, it had the essence of what his voice once was, but much rougher and it was difficult for him to say long sentences, he had to pause between words to be able to say them.

You caressed his cheeks with your thumbs, seeing the scars on his face.

At first, it wasn't the same skin you knew; you were surprised at how his body returned to that familiar skin, changing its texture, gradually becoming the skin you love to touch.

You noticed the ring hanging from his neck, with the lack of hands, he wore his ring that way to keep it close.

He had to convince you to give him back his ring, but at that moment you were in crisis because you had told him that the day you took it off, you would leave him. Although you reached an agreement to annul that promise.

Five years had already passed since you returned to Earth, and too many things had happened.

On your side, you started following your dream when you were little, and today you have your own bakery.

But it was hard work getting here, because the first thing you worried about was your husband's well-being, who spent half a year resting in the hospital, and then you had to take care of him with attention at home.

Pony Express decided to give you a percentage of your salary and a bonus for the damages they suffered, so with that money, they performed the man's first surgeries.

A skin graft, hair, and facial reconstruction, among others, over the next two years.

He used prosthetics that helped him walk and pick things up on his own, although just in case, you still had his wheelchair as a backup, which he refuses to use again, and when you're not watching, he tries to get rid of it, but you've locked the room where it is.

You even adopted two dogs, the first was Jupiter, a Labrador, a service dog who helps Curly when you're not around, and he's also a very good companion.

And after insisting for so long that Jupiter needed a little sibbling, you adopted Sunset, a dog you had found outside your bakery begging for food, a golden retriever who had escaped from her home, where it seemed they only used her to have puppies and sell them because she was purebred.

Both animals got along well right away, both quite calm, they don't cause any problems.

On the other hand, you stayed in touch with the rest of the crew.

Anya was able to get into medical school a few months after returning, and she is currently in her final year to receive her diploma.

Swansea retired and stayed at home with his family and children, being welcomed by his wife and the little girl she had had a few months ago.

Daisuke tried again with the art school, giving his all and with the support of his parents, he was able to get in. He even has a blog where he talks about the experiences he had in his life to motivate other young people to follow what they love.

Jimmy on the other hand... The last thing you heard about him was that his sentence was extended further for causing conflicts during his time in prison.

As for the little baby... you found out she was adopted by a good family, and that was all you needed to know about her.

Curly: "They're already... about to arrive"

He alerted when he heard Sunset start barking upon hearing a car park nearby.

He got out of bed and went outside to open the door and let his friends into the yard.

There was something that became a tradition among you, every year you celebrated the anniversary of the day you returned alive to Earth after such an experience, having a meal at your home.

Daisuke: "Who is the cutest girl! Let me pet you, fluffball!"

The boy, every time he went, was determined to make Sunset his friend, but she always ended up hiding where he couldn't reach her.

Anya: "Today is a wonderful day... And the food smells really good, every year they surpass the previous year's food, it's incredible."

Swansea: "Not bad, huh! Did you make this grill by yourself, Curly? The meat looks incredible."

Daisuke: "Where is (Yn)?? I want to greet her!"

He had managed to catch the dog, who was resigned in his arms while Jupiter was barking at Daisuke, knowing how upset Sunset was.

Curly: "She has... a surprise for... all of you."

He said, smiling, waiting for you to come out in the summer dress he had bought for you, quite loose and comfortable, perfect for your growing belly. 

Everyone was surprised to see you, Daisuke was left speechless, dropping Sunset.

Daisuke: "But! You said-!"

"Well, not naturally—but... I was given the opportunity to do it in vitro and it was a success! I was afraid it wouldn't work because of my eggs, but... after several failed attempts... we finally got very lucky."

You caressed your belly, smiling.

Swansea: "Look at that... Congratulations, kid!"

Anya: "That's wonderful! Oh my God, how many weeks are you now? Do you already know their gender? Why didn't you tell us anything?"

She approached to touch your belly, happy that you have achieved what you wanted so much.

"I'm already in my 29th week... And we already know it's a boy! We were deciding on a name!"

Daisuke: "I have a really cool one!"

"I'm not going to call him Daisuke."

The boy let out a disappointed "aaaw" that you weren't going to consider his name for your son.

Curly: "We thought... of Charles"

"That I'm still not at all in agreement with that name."

You pointed at him, making him laugh and roll his eye.

Anya: "You still have time! When is your due date? I would like to be with you when it happens."

Daisuke: "Can I be there too? Maybe the second time I won't faint, hehe."

Swansea: "I wish you the best, boys are not difficult to entertain, they are difficult to keep alive, they love danger even after reaching adulthood."

You felt very excited about all the support you were receiving, happy to have met such wonderful people.

You didn't regret at all for having done everything possible to get them out of that situation.

The gathering continued with everyone eating and talking about the things they had been doing lately, catching up on their activities, until dessert time arrived, everyone's favorite moment.

Curly: "The best sweets... are from my wife..."

Swansea: "You don't even like sweets!"

Curly couldn't help but smile anyway when he saw everyone enthusiastically eating the ice cream cake you had made for that hot day, while he had his own special portion that you prepared for him so he could eat without too much sweetness.

You couldn't resist feeding him, and even though he wanted to seem annoyed, he adored the attention you gave him.

"Oops~ I'm sorry~ I stained your cheek"

You said with a smile to kiss his cheek, you started smearing hkd face with the dessert and left kisses on all those spots.

Swansea: "Get a room!"

Daisuke: "...Did you ever do it on the ship while working?"

"DAISUKE!"

You shouted with your cheeks red at such a true thing that had been said.

Curly: "...Two or three times..."

Swansea: "That's nothing, you managed to control themselves quite well."

Curly: "....During the week"

"Can I send it back into space?"

You didn't know how to hide your face in response to his declaration, you were extremely embarrassed.

But you had no escape, from the day you said yes, that man was going to stay with you until the end of his days.

And you knew well that he is going to be an incredible father soon as well.

In the end, everyone was able to have their well-deserved fate.

[exocaliii]

❦︎ You've Been Walking, You've Been Hiding

(pt. 1) (pt. 2)

| Kang No-eul / Guard 011 x fem!reader |

side! | Se-mi / Played 380 x fem!reader |

Summary: For six years, you've watched your best friend and only companion mourn a child she barely got to know. Now, you're given a chance to finally rid her of this lifelong guilt.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: mentions of self harm, death, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, occasional use of Y/N even though I try my best to avoid it lol, some jealousy and yearning, very plot heavy guys no porn this time...

A/N: first fic yay!! it's incredibly plot heavy (like seriously look at the word count man I haven't even reached the Mingle game yet😭😭) and tbh i've already written most of pt 2 (which dives far more into the romance part), but please please lmk what you think so far!! :D seriously any comments or messages or whatever are appreciated!! this is the "I wrote this cuz no one else did" fic

—

It’s been nine years since you've met her, and she’s still the most beautiful woman you know.

Her head is tilted back, shallow breaths filling the silence. You don’t make a move until you see tears flow down her cheeks, and by the time she raises an arm to cover her face, you’re already by her side. There are no words or even glances shared as you use the sleeve of your jacket to wipe the tears off her cheek. Though, for a split second as your hand lowers, you swear you see her head tilt in your direction, and maybe you’re hallucinating it (god knows what could happen after two bottles of whatever hard liquor that was) but your eyes meet for a brief second.

It’s a bit too much for you, and you need this night to end. Besides, you had someone to meet. She knows that.

“It’s late, Eul.”

It’s an unspoken suggestion for her to drive you home, but she doesn’t move - just looks over at you with a heated gaze and that’s all it takes. Whatever emotion she was trying to express is unknown to you, but it’s familiar in a way that deeply disturbs you. You’re the last person she should be looking at like that.

“...Alright then,” you whisper, placing your head on her shoulder. She doesn’t react, but she doesn’t move to push you off either. You should leave. You both know this.

God, you’re pathetic.

—

250 million won.

Fucking scammers. Who could even pay that much?

Your meeting with the head of some shady smuggling group based in North Korea went… alright. They were willing to help, but less optimistic than the last. What really went wrong was the price they were charging to help search for No-eul’s baby. Even if you worked your current job for 16 hours a day for an entire year straight, you wouldn’t have enough.

The thought of seeing her hope dwindling once again made you want to pull your hair out.

Perhaps it was this heartache that made you call the number on that card.

—

She’s known about the games for six years.

She signed up to kill people every summer for five years.

Today is the first day she’s genuinely, completely thrown off guard.

When she twists the scope of her rifle, she almost accidentally fires a bullet straight into your face with a twitch of her hand. Even after leaning back and rubbing her face in exasperation at her own mind supposedly playing tricks on her, she leans back into the familiar pad of the rifle to see your face once again. You look the same as the last time she saw you, which was barely two days ago. The strain in your face, the fear that twists your expression into one she recognizes from seven years ago - God, what the fuck did you get yourself into?

She lets out a shaky breath and readjusts her grip, her nerves making her hands quiver just enough that she has to lean back again to roll her head to relieve some of the newfound tension in her neck. When she finally lays her cheek back against the rifle, she’s quick to refocus her attention to another player, one that 012 (or was it 010?) failed to kill. It’s a disgusting ordeal, but she deals with it the only way she knows how to, even as her mind wanders.

Survive this game, Y/N. Do not leave me behind.

—

All you can do is clutch the number on your chest - 037 - after what had just happened. After you watched a woman’s blood splatter onto a young man right next to you. After you watched him flinch and die moments later, right at your feet. It feels like a fever dream when money begins to drop into the piggy bank above the room, and you’re told each 100 million won added was somebody’s life.

That woman and the boy were, combined, only 200 million won to the pile. You want to vomit.

You drown out so much of it, but when you hear talk of money being passed out to the “winners” of the game you all just played, you’re disturbed to find it’s only reached about 75 million. You’re even more disturbed by your immediate desire for more, more money to fill the pig’s empty stomach (and more lives lost, apparently).

When it comes time to vote, you can’t bring yourself to care much about the man who claims he had played these games before. His pleas mean nothing to you, not when you have 250 million won to conjure up in the next month to continue the search for No-eul’s sweet daughter. You hesitate for only a split second before you hit the O, and you force yourself to drown out the fearful cries to your left as well as the howls from the hungry wolves to your right.

A blue patch is placed over your chest, but you do not cheer with the rest of your side.

—

When night comes, sleep refuses to come to you. It feels like a punishment now, especially as you look at the young girl just diagonal to you. 095. She shakes like a baby in her bed, and the red X on her sweater shows you why.

Have you damned this poor girl to death? Maybe even the kind old lady lying across from her?

The sick feeling in your gut prompts you to get up and head over to the side door. Three knocks prompts nothing but silence, but you refuse to give up so easily. With another set of knocks on the door, this time hard enough to make sure the guard on the other side (at least you hoped there was even anyone on the other side) heard you, you spoke up.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel well, can I please-”

Without you saying another word, the door practically swings open.

Standing across from you is a pink guard with a triangle mask. The rifle at their side draws your attention immediately, and some paranoid part of your mind wonders if they only opened the door so they could shoot you for interrupting their quiet time. However, the guard surprisingly only takes a small step to the side after a strangely tense silence.

“...Thank you…”

You scuttle past them and immediately head to the bathroom. The moment you enter, you rush to the sink, turn on the faucet, and let a stream of icy cold water fall from your cupped hands onto your face. For a second, this helps your heart rate slow.

What brings it back up is the sound of the door opening, and what spikes it is the fact that it’s not a fellow player that walks into the silent bathroom, but the guard. Based on their height alone, you can tell it’s the same one. This is even more frightening somehow.

Did you do something wrong? Should you have just stayed in bed? Why did you pick-

“Why are you here?!” The guard’s raspy voice interrupts your thoughts. Her question (you now realize it’s a woman) was just barely quiet enough to not be considered a yell, but the frantic nature of it still makes you blank out. You’re so afraid that you end up completely missing the familiarity your body feels at the sound of her voice.

“I-I’m sorry ma’am, I just need to wash my face, I’ll-”

You’re interrupted once again by the guard’s movements, but this time, she’s practically ripping down the red hood of her jacket to pull off her mask. She doesn’t even need to take off her face covering by that point, because a single short glance at her eyes, the ones you knew so well, were enough.

“No-eul…,” you choke out, staring as she pulls the face covering down completely to reveal the face you’ve known for nine years. Her hair is sweaty and sticks to her face in a way that you recognize from her summer shifts at the fair.

Seeing her here is only comforting for a short moment though, because the pink of her uniform against the green of yours is still visible in your peripheral as you take in her confused, almost panicked expression. Her eyes scan your face for an answer, not nearly as patient as she typically is, and when you refuse to even make a sound, she takes a small step closer.

“Answer me. You shouldn’t- God.” She runs her gloved fingers through her hair in poorly hidden frustration as she sighs and turns away for a split second. “You shouldn’t be here. Not in a place like this.”

You don’t respond, but she can very much see the frown on your face after that last statement.

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” It doesn’t take much for you to regain your snarkiness, but it clearly throws her off guard.

“It’s just a temporary job, and you know why I need it, so answer me.”

Yes, you know full well why she needs it.

“...I need it too, Eul.” It’s not enough for her. You sigh before accepting your fate. “She needs it.”

For a second, there’s silence. She’s confused, and you watch as the gears turn in her head and she slowly comes to understand the intentions behind your words - understands the blue O plastered on your sweater. Somewhere in the blank expression she’s trying so hard to keep up, you can spot the shame, the guilt, and the sadness washing over her at the realization.

“Don’t look at me like you pity me. This was my choice to make.” I don’t regret it.

When she fails to even acknowledge what you just said, you simply sigh and move over to the wall, sitting down with your legs pulled close to your body. As if it were muscle memory, she joins you a moment later.

For what feels like forever, you two sit in silence and stare at each other. She can’t stop glancing down at the patch on your chest, and you can’t stop glancing at the mask she placed at her side. When she notices this, her expression gets even more shameful, and she lowers her head.

“Eul…” She doesn’t answer you, but you hear the soft exhale she releases when she hears your voice. “Eul, I don’t blame you.”

You reach over in a bold move and take her gloved hands. They’re mostly steady, but you know her too well by now. Even the slightest tremor is enough for you to practically feel the shame washing over her in waves. When you attempt to hold eye contact with her again, she breaks it uncharacteristically fast.

“You should’ve never come here.”

You sigh heavily and as she begins to pull her hands back, you tighten your grip on them and lean forward.

“I want to find her, No-eul. Please let me try.”

She’s damned you, just as she damned her daughter. She’s sure of it.

—

Whilst others around you are quickly gathering into groups, you find yourself lost in the crowd. No one pays you any mind as they shove past you to team up with people they had been interacting with, but what could you do when you’ve really just been ignoring most of the people here?

It’s humiliating when you find yourself inching towards a group of men that side-eye you and turn away before you can even ask to join their group. To be fair, if you were them, you probably wouldn’t want the meek girl in the corner either. It’s life or death, and you can’t blame them for picking the former. All you can do is sigh and turn away, but before you can go far, a hand gently grabs your upper arm and spins you around.

“Hey, you have a team yet?”

380.

She’s a girl you made eye contact with only once, right before your late night trip to the bathroom. From her appearance, you would’ve expected her voice to be a lot more gruff, but it’s soft and gentle and draws you in immediately. In a place like this, it's normal that you find yourself easily drawn to any sense of safety you can find (especially when your usual safe haven is hidden behind a mask that dozens of others are wearing - others that are probably far more willing to shoot you in the head for trying to stick to them).

“No.” An awkward silence fills the space between you two before you remember why she’s even asking such a question in the first place. “Do you want to…”

You don’t get to finish that question - thank god - before she chuckles and shakes her head slightly, answering you by taking you by the hand and dragging you over to her group.

Standing with her back against the wall, an armed guard keeps her eyes trained on your every movement. When 380 takes you by the hand, her grip on her rifle tightens just barely.

—

In a twisted way, you almost found the last game to be fun. The cheers of the spectators, 380’s tight grip on your arm and quiet encouragement after you failed the first round of gonggi, it’s all kindness and attention you never typically receive. You can almost bring yourself to completely ignore the fact that you’re pretty sure you just got yourself thrown in with a group of two drug addicts (you don’t know how they managed to sneak substances into this seemingly sterile environment, but it’s very obvious they succeeded in some capacity).

What wasn’t fun, however, was watching the previous losers get gunned down by people in the same outfit as the woman you were empathizing with just last night. You’re actually 99% sure she was one of them, which makes it that much worse. You pity those who lost, and for a second, as you watch a young boy fall to the ground with blood seeping out from a single hole above his heart, you feel an indescribable hatred towards those putting these people down like dogs.

But then No-eul’s face flashes in your mind and you feel the ghost of her hands on yours, and it all fades away.

“What’s your name?” Your train of thought is interrupted by a soft and familiar voice. You turn to face 380 and are slightly thrown off at the sight of 230, 124, and 125 also waiting expectedly. Albeit with some hesitance, you give them your full name, and 380 nods in acknowledgment.

“I’m Se-mi.” Her choice to leave out her surname isn’t lost on you, but you ignore it for now. After all, you don’t really know this woman, and she doesn’t know you.

“Two beautiful names for two pretty girls.” Maybe you should’ve left out your surname as well. “I’m the legend: Thanos! I’ll revive half the world with my lyrics, so watch out.”

After Thano’s little declaration, you couldn’t really pay attention to the other two (Min-su and Nam-gyu, if your memory serves you well). The short shy boy that had been trailing Se-mi when she asked you to join the team was just as quiet as he was before, but now that you’re really paying attention, you realize that he bears a striking resemblance to someone you knew.

Laughter rings out as you chase him through the yard. Short legs, shorter than yours, don’t take him too far before your open palm collides with his small back, causing him to practically faceplant into the dirt. His muffled cries come out soon after, and even with your sorry attempts to soothe him, your aunt still comes running out, scolding you for playing so roughly with her young son.

It’s the last time you’ll see them, even if you didn’t realize it then.

You break your gaze away as you shift uncomfortably at the sudden memory - 125 is not your cousin, he’s a stranger.

You glance around the room for a bit before deciding you’ve sufficiently distracted yourself. When you draw your focus back towards Se-mi, you see her staring off into the distance as well, having made the wonderful decision to not pay attention to the drug-riddled rambling of the rapper who had become the de-facto leader of the group. As if she can sense your gaze, she breaks her staring contest with the wall across the room to turn her head in your direction.

As your eyes meet again, you don’t look away, and you’re pretty sure she smiles a bit at this.

Smug.

—

When it’s time to vote yet again, you’re just as set on your choice as you were before. The guilt of voting for the games to continue even after seeing 095 cry and beg for her life weighs heavy on your heart, but the money just isn’t quite enough for you to quit yet.

When you drag yourself back over to the side cheering and throwing their fists in the air for the death games to continue, you have to stop for a second and close your eyes.

No-eul’s face is so clear in your mind, and so is every memory you have of her crying over her lost daughter.

It’s easier to stand with these people when you remember what you’re fighting for.

—

Even with the confidence you felt in your choice, your guilt isn’t dispelled and you can barely bring yourself to eat the dinner provided to you. You push around the egg with your spoon, head cradled in your hand as you stare down at the ground; it’s a pitiful scene, and you’re probably scaring off any potential future teammates, but in the moment, you truly couldn’t care less.

“Does it taste that bad?” The voice is teasing, and you immediately know who it is before she even sits down beside you.

“I’m not hungry right now, that’s all.”

“Bullshit,” she says with a laugh, and you finally look up from the speck on the floor just to shoot her a dirty look. She responds with a mischievous one in kind. “You feel bad or something? Starving yourself isn’t gonna change the vote on your chest.”

With a heavy sigh, you shove a spoonful of rice in your mouth just to shut her up, but all you do is earn another laugh from her. It’s a nice sound to hear, but you'd jam your spoon into your neck before admitting something like that to her.

“Where are the other three?”

She raises a brow and slightly leans back, revealing Min-su almost tucked into her side like a shaking child. If you all didn’t share your ages earlier, you would've thought he was only in his late teens with the way he was acting. “Thanos and Nam-gyu are digging into their candy stash again, if you know what I mean.”

A loud unprompted Woo! C’mon Man! from across the room confirms her answer, and you scoff.

“Addicts.” Another laugh from her, and finally, you’ve decided that you’ve had enough with trying to eat when your body damn near wants to reject it. “So, why are you here then?”

“Same as everybody else,” she looks over at you with an expression that says ‘obviously.’ “I’ve got some debt I’m trying to get rid of.”

You’re about to clarify that you actually meant to ask her why she was here, next to you and not why she was participating in a bunch of death games, but you push that thought aside for now. Curiosity takes over as your eyes try to uncover something, anything in her expression.

Piercings, careless attitude, but her eyes are soft when she looks at you and Min-su. She seems smart enough. Beautiful as well. How the hell did someone like her get into enough debt to want to participate in something like this?

“Aren’t you afraid of dying though?” It’s a weirdly deep question that you regret asking as soon as it leaves your mouth, but she only does her signature smirk before answering you.

“There are plenty of things out there that can kill me too. This place isn’t so different.” Except for the fact that you’re now living with the possibility of being shot for failing a kids’ game, but alright, you can accept that answer. When faced with your silence after her answer, Se-mi lifts a hand to gently grab the blue patch on your chest, examining it with apparent interest.

“How about you? Why did you choose to die?”

It’s an incredibly morbid way to put it even though from her tone, you can tell she’s obviously joking. Either way, it makes you grimace and destroys the confident demeanor you tried to hold up to match with hers. What could you say to a question like that? That you signed up to get money for someone else? That you could maybe even have lived a debt-free, semi-peaceful life without this other person, but you would rather die without her?

“It’s… yeah, it’s debt money for me too.” The lie leaves your mouth easily, but Se-mi doesn’t look convinced at all. Her doubtful gaze burns holes into the side of your face, and you’re beginning to desperately search for something to take her attention off you. Your reprieve comes in the form of the slight movement you spot behind her.

You don’t actually know this woman, and for now, you don’t intend to.

“Min-su, how about you?” Her intense gaze finally breaks, and she shifts to look at Min-su as well.

“Huh?”

“Why are you here?” You force your voice to be softer this time, less urgent to match with his jumpy nature. He’s calmer now, but there’s still shame evident in his expression even though he hasn’t even told you two anything yet.

“I… I just had some student loans, that’s all.” Se-mi makes the same face she made at you towards him and he winces, obviously unwilling to spill his secrets. You almost feel bad for the guy, especially with the way Se-mi is beginning to pester him a bit now. Seems like two unnecessarily vague answers were pushing her buttons a bit, and the idea that you’ve managed to irk this carefree woman is kind of satisfying.

After a while of listening to their back and forth (which mainly consisted of Min-su asking Se-mi how she’s so calm in ten different ways), out of pure boredom, you decide to test the waters one last time.

“It’s not really debt money for me.”

This catches their attention straight away, and Se-mi looks far more interested in this answer than your previous one. You drop your eyes back to the ground in preparation for your admission.

“Then what’s it for?”

“I’m planning on giving all the money I win to someone else. They’ll use it for their own... personal reasons.” Not exactly the full truth, but it’s part of it and you think she deserves at least that after recruiting you to her team.

For a second, you expect laughter to break out right in your face. You prepare to answer questions about why you would risk your life for someone else’s goal, but it never comes. Instead, when you look back up, all you see are two pairs of understanding eyes, not a hint of mockery in their gaze.

If anything, Se-mi almost looks proud of your answer.

“Actually… I joined the game to try and help my mom out a bit, that’s all. I wasn’t able to get a good job after school, so I want to make up for it.” Min-su’s words sound like those of a young boy still trying to understand the world around him. “I’m all she’s got left now.”

What was someone like him doing in an evil place like this?

“Man, you two are making me feel kinda bad,” Se-mi says, chuckling to herself before leaning back a bit to look at you square in the face.

She doesn’t doubt Min-su’s story, and even though she doubted yours for a split second, she sees nothing but genuine honesty and a hint of embarrassment in your eyes. This revelation fills her with relief, and for the first time, she spares you both a genuine smile.

“I figured you two were nice, generous people when we teamed up.” The newfound but genuine friendliness she exudes surprises you, but it’s a welcome change. “I’m glad I might just be right, and I’m hanging out with some good people for once.”

“Well, I hope I could say the same about you.”

She throws her head back in laughter at this, and you begin to think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to know these people after all.

—

“Can I use the bathroom please?”

This time, you don’t bother to knock, and as expected, your voice is all she needs to open the door and step aside. It was actually surprisingly quick this time too, as if she had been waiting on the other side already.

The air is tense, a feeling you never really associated with No-eul, but it’s late and the earlier conversation you had with your two new friends didn’t do much to dispel your undying anxiety about tomorrow. You can feel her gaze on you even from behind that mask, but you pay her no mind as you rush your wet hands across your reddened face and hair. The cooling effect is instant, and now, you finally feel ready to face her.

“Take off the mask, please.” Your voice is more exasperated than you intended it to be, but you can’t cover up the fatigue you’ve been feeling since the start of the games. It’s probably more of an emotional exhaustion thing, but you don’t want to think about all that right now.

As she’s going through the process of removing the layers covering her face from you, you begin heading over to the far end of the bathroom, eventually dropping to the floor with a heavy sigh. She’s staring at you expectedly.

“The gloves too.”

She doesn’t protest or even sigh, simply pulling them off her hands before shoving them into the pockets of her pink tracksuit. She takes this opportunity to run her fingers through her hair, bangs previously stuck to her face being pushed back out of the way. In that process, she reveals a red, clearly fresh cut on the side of her face. You practically jump up from the floor and stomp right back over to her.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Don’t worry, it was just a tussle with some of the other guards.” Your hands gingerly cup her face as you tilt it to examine the wound. She can feel her skin tingle where your fingertips gingerly graze it. “I handled it.”

You sigh heavily at her dismissal of the open wound on her face and walk around her to grab some paper towels, turning on the faucet to let cold water flow onto them.

“Fuck, No-eul, you’re not even participating in the games and you’re still finding ways to get injured.” Your hands are still shaking a bit when you come back over to her, gently dabbing the dried blood off her cheek. Her gaze is heavy on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look her in the eye right now. Not when you can practically feel her eyes all over your face, your body, every part of you.

As she stands there, No-eul’s mind begins to wander. How can you stand here, right in front of her after everything? Sometimes she genuinely believes you’re an angel sent from heaven to give her reprieve from the pain in her life; a gentle soul, who, even now, overlooks her greatest faults.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes out, gently taking your trembling hand in hers and pulling it away from her face. There’s an uncharacteristic softness in her expression, but you’ve seen it enough times to understand what it really conveys: guilt.

“You don’t have to apologize for something like this,” you say, clearing your throat as you turn to throw the paper towel away. “If you say everything’s fine, I’ll believe you.” Like always.

It's silent for a moment - almost peaceful - before her face twists as if she's just recalled an unpleasant memory.

“Who was that girl you were with? 380.” You scoff at her sudden question and turn around with pure confusion on your face.

“What?”

“She brought you over to those drug heads earlier. It’s not safe to hang around people like that, especially not in a place like this.” You bite back a response that said, well, you're currently with one of the guards that were gunning down people earlier, so how does that work?

“God, No-eul, it’s just a shitty temporary team-up kind of thing,” you laugh slightly at your own words, making sure to leave out your already growing attachment to two people in your little group. “What, did you expect me to try to do this all on my own?”

Her growing agitation is evident as her jaw visibly clenches and she turns away a bit, resting her hands on the back of the rifle slung around her shoulder. “I’m saying you should choose better, they’re the type of people who would drop you in a split second if it meant they could survive another day.”

“You think I don’t know that? Two of them are constantly high out of their minds and the other two-” You interrupt yourself with a sigh, shutting your eyes as your head droops; unfortunately, you can’t actually think of any reason you could have to distrust the unexpectedly kind girl and the shy boy you’ve grown acquainted with.

If they turned their backs on you, you would be lying if you said it wouldn’t phase you in the slightest.

No-eul begins feeling guilty again when she watches your shoulders drop and your eyes dim at the realization of the shitty situation you’ve found yourself in. Even so, her eyes don’t miss the unchanging patch on your sweater: a blue rectangle, neatly stitched with an O in the center. She bites her lip and curses under her breath. Always playing the hero, even at the expense of yourself.

She slowly walks back over to you, lifting up a single hand to trace the patch that signified your choice to give your life for hers.

“The issue isn’t the money,” the broker exclaims, his voice a mix of pity and exasperation at her persistence. “We’ve searched, we’ve been searching for years now, but a one-year old alone… especially after her mother deserted…?” Her expression hardens and he winces at the unintentional cruelty in his statement. “It’s almost impossible by now, No-eul.”

Her anger is barely contained when she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder, and a newfound calmness washes over her in waves.

“We understand the circumstances, sir, but please, please keep searching.” His expression softens slightly at the kind, weary smile on yours. “We’ll handle the expenses, all we ask is that you believe in this search too.”

She almost wants to cry at the sound of your sweet voice.

“We still have hope.”

“Get out of your head, No-eul.”

She’s startled back to reality when she feels gentle hands caress the scars on her wrists. Instinctively, she goes to pull away, but you step forward at the same time and press your body against hers, keeping a firm yet gentle grip on her wrists, fingertips still tracing the marks of the pain she’s held onto for seven years.

“Please don’t forget, this was my choice.” Your voice is muffled against the crook of her neck, but it’s just as gentle as she remembers it to be. “I still have hope.”

With those simple words, she feels the dream she’s held onto for years glow just a bit brighter. Closing her eyes, she leans head to rest atop yours, gently removing her arms from your grip to wrap them firmly around your body. You don’t hesitate to reciprocate her hold.

“Me too.” Your grip on her tightens just barely. “I still have hope too.”

—

A/N: WOW SORRY PLOT DUMP ALERT!! I love some good set-up but I hope the yearning was enough to make up for the lack of obvious romance like smut..

Never posted on Tumblr before too so I have no clue if I did this right (like formatting)! again, any thoughts on the fic are appreciated and ill probably (hopefully) finish part 2 soon! that part will prob be better cuz the relationship between all characters are all set up now. might cross post on ao3/wattpad but haven't decide yet

[darnell-la]

i’m actually so in love with your writing! Could i request Oldman!Logan x married reader having sex for the first time in forever bc he’s getting sick and age is showing in him and he isn’t healing but he wants to prove he can still keep up

note: Logan and his little emotional ass…

———

“Logan, what are you doing here? What happened!?” Y/n asked, worried after seeing his state. The man had bullet holes in him. He was bleeding and looked like he was close to passing out.

“Need you, bub,” Logan said, meaning it in so many different ways, but y/n only thought of one as she pulled him into her shared house.

Y/n dragged the man to her shared room and pulled him to the bathroom. “The fuck, Logan — I thought you were done with that shit,” y/n felt horrible seeing him like this.

He went down after she broke up with him because of his unemotional ways. He didn’t show emotion when she left the mansion, but people noticed the change in his mood.

Logan was always an asshole, but he had a soft spot for sweet people. After y/n left, he felt no need to be that man anymore.

“Just a little fight. Nothin’ serious, princess,” Logan said as y/n sat him on the toilet. “Logan, not right now, please,” Y/n said before she went into her closet to find things to help him.

Logan was confused for a second, wondering why she didn’t like the nickname until he remembered. He took a look at her hand and noticed the ring he prayed wasn’t real.

After hearing the news of her marriage, he couldn’t take it. He tried reaching out to her, but she was a ghost.

After finally finding her, he noticed how happy she looked. That was decades ago, and since then, he’s just kept his distance. Still watching her, but never approaching.

“You’re still with him, huh?” Logan asked, sounding heartbroken all over again. “Yes, I am, and he gets home tomorrow night, so I need you out of here quick,” y/n said, aching the man.

“Can’t stay until he gets here? Maybe meet the man or something?” Logan asked, making y/n sigh loudly as she finally found what she needed. “No, Logan — Me and you haven’t talked in years, so there’s no need,”

“We haven’t talked because of you,” the man said in a low voice. “Yeah, because-“ y/n cut herself off as she noticed her tone getting higher. She shouldn’t be upset anymore. They’re done.

“Just- Let’s get you cleaned up,” y/n walked back over to Logan. The two stayed quiet as she took his shirt off to see what she had to work with. “Fuckin’ hell, Logan,” y/n shooter her head.

Even though this wasn’t the man’s fault, he looked down with a sad look, disappointed that he got worse over the years, and never better for her to see and maybe want him back.

“He treats you good?” Logan asked, trying to get rid of the silence. It’s been too many years of silence. “Alright,” y/n said, answering drily because she felt embarrassed about her life.

“Why just alright? I see he buys you stuff- On social media — I-I have you on social media,” Logan saved himself after y/n gave him a confused look. Y/n sighed with a nod, not wanting to tell him or anyone why he gave her those gifts.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Logan asked with a slightly serious face after noticing her body language. After all these years, Logan could tell when something was wrong.

“Please, just- Let’s get this done, okay?” Y/n said before using a pair of tweezers to pull one of the bullets out. “Fuck! Fuck- wait,” Logan softly grabbed the girl's wrists as he stood up. “I’ve got this part,”

Logan slowly walked over to the bathroom sink to lean on it, resting and taking deep breaths for what he was about to do.

Y/n was confused until the man began pushing out bullets with low groans, trying to hide the pain he was in.

Y/n placed a hand on his back, comforting him so he would mentally feel better about this all. She couldn’t look at him like this.

“Just a few stitches, okay?” Y/n rubbed the man’s back after he got all of the bullets out. “No, it’ll heal itself. Just need it cleaned,” the man said before sitting back down on the toilet, already missing her back touched.

y/n wanted to ask why he came here if he wouldn't help him stitch up, but she kept her mouth closed and didn't ask. He finally had a small reason to show up and be let in her house.

“Lo — Logan, you need it,” y/n slipped up by calling him by the nickname she gave the man. Logan looked up at the woman, eyes lighting up at her words, but face expression tired.

He was tired of life. He was tired of living without y/n. He was tired of being distant from y/n. He was tired of going home and having an empty bed while she came home to whoever the man was she married.

“I need you,” Logan said, making y/n scoff, feeling tears fill her eyes in an instant. “Logan, if you’re not gonna let me help you, then you have to leave,” she hated saying.

“C’mon, baby — Just take me back,” Logan on off of the toilet and stepped towards her. Y/n instantly turned around, not wanting to look at him. She can’t. She’s married now.

“C’mere,” Logan said softly as he hugged y/n from the back, leaning down to sniff her neck. “You still smell good,” he said under his breath as his hands rubbed her waist and stomach.

“Logan, I can’t,” y/n said, not pushing him off, but hoping he’d pull back. She couldn’t bring herself to push his old but missing scent away.

“C’mon, baby — If you couldn’t, then you would’ve pushed him off a while ago,” he said, and he was right. That’s when y/n turned around and placed her hands on his chest, pushing, but he grabbed them, keeping her hands on him.

“I’m sorry, y/n — I wasn’t good back then, but I am now. I’ll do anything to get you back. To get all of those years without you, back,” Logan’s hands softly grabbed her cheeks.

“I-I can’t, Logan — I have a husband, and he- He treats me right,” y/n lied, and he knew it instantly. All the years away from his girl, he still knew when she was lying and not doing well. Her slight body language change does not lie.

“You don’t have to lie to me, princess. If he doesn’t treat you right, I won’t laugh, judge or make you feel like shit,” Logan said as tears slipped past her eyelids.

“Hey, hey — Don’t cry, okay? This is my fault. You’re with him because I wasn’t man enough to deal with love. I was scared, and I let us get together knowing I should’ve ghosted you. I should’ve fuckin’ stopped it right then, but I didn’t because I love you, y/n,”

“I’m so stupid,” y/n buried her face in the man’s chest as she cried. Logan’s own tears slipped past his eyelids, hearing y/n cry like this after all of these years.

If only he had been a better man, a better boyfriend, she wouldn’t be like this. What has she been going through, through all these years? Anything negative was his fault. All of it.

“Baby, no, you’re not. I am. If I just did better, you’d be with me. We’d both be happier,” Logan pulled y/n’s face back as he wiped her tears. “Need you to stitch me up like you wanted. Take care of me, then I’ll take care of you. Till the day I die,”

Y/n isn’t invincible, but she does take a bit longer to die off. She’s nothing like Logan though, so getting together at this time, especially since his regenerating powers aren’t working well anymore, is perfect.

“Mhmkay,” y/n said low, feeling her heart grow for the man again. “Please stop crying, baby. Gonna make me feel bad,” Logan playfully pouted as he lifted her chin. “Good,” she giggled low.

“So good, baby. Always so fuckin’ good, baby,” Logan whispered in the girl's ear after slipping past her folds, filling her up until he had no more to give. She took him so well. Like they have not stopped being together.

“Oh my god, Logan,” y/n cried as she scratched his back, drawing a little blood. He almost forgot how strong she was. He never really paid attention. She was always his sweet little girl.

He cursed himself for being an asshole towards her. All he had to do was tell her when he felt down. All he had to do was ask for help. All he had to do was accept that it’s okay to not be okay. She would’ve been happy to help.

“Gonna keep you, baby. Gonna take you from your sad excuse of a husband,” Logan snapped his hips, shaking at the feeling of being someone he hadn’t been in for years. Since her, he hasn’t been with anyone. Not one soul.

“Ima treat you better, baby. Gonna show him how to be a man,” Logan didn’t know how the man was. He knew nothing about him, only the fake news he puts out on social media, but by the way, y/n was clenching around him and not calling her husband to get Logan out of their home, he knew the man was a dick.

“You’re gonna tell me everything about him, y/n. Don’t miss one detail. Gonna show him what happens when he makes my girl cry at the thought of him,”

Logan’s hands rubbed y/n’s cheek, watching her jaw go slack as his hips bucked up into his, chasing after her orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Forgot about that rich prick. Knew he wasn’t no good,” Logan talked like he knew the man personally. Even if he wasn’t a bad person, Logan didn’t care. Y/n was his, and his only.

“Fuckin’ hell — Still squeezin’ me tight like back in the day, when you cum,” Logan reminded the woman as she came all over his cock. “So pretty when you did it too. Now you look better because we’re finally officially,”

Y/n was confused at first until he spoke. “You’re my wife. And I’m your husband. You’ve always been mine, and I’ll show you that. Gonna show you all the years you’ve missed out on me, baby,”

Logan smashed his lips onto y/n’s, hungrily kissing her as he pounded, making sure to fuck her into the mattress. He was old, and his body ached, but the adrenaline was still there. He wanted to fuck her for hours. Mark her for hours. He wanted to do everything with her for hours until her shitty husband came back to the sight of her taking his cock better than she could ever take her husbands.

“That’s it, baby — Gonna fill this little girl up like I should’ve done years ago. Trap you with me and never let you go,” Logan’s hands found hers and locked. He pinned them beside her head and leaned into her neck, sucking as he groan.

The man couldn’t help himself, sniffing and growling into the girl's neck as he spilled into her, hard. Cumming so deep, she swore she felt it swirl in her stomach.

“F-Fuck,” y/n cried low, feeling complete. The feeling of him in her, marking her, and telling her she was his, made her heart grow. Fuck her husband. She couldn’t wait until he came home to the sight of Logan claiming her.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 I'D MEET THE SEA UNDER THE SUNLIGHT

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai knows. he knows who you are. he knows what you do. and not only does he know, but in typical dazai fashion, he decides to make it fully your problem. now you're stuck between a rock and a hard place trying to figure out what to do with him—the answer should be obvious, you just can't accept it. but time is ticking and you're treading a thin rope, if you make the smallest mistake...

AUTHOR'S NOTES: part four my children. my eye procedure went well! i've been resting all day, i prob won't be active very much until monday/tuesday, so i'lll queue a few reblogs of this ... i say that, but i also don't know if ill be able to stop myself from responding to comments HAHAH i just love talking to u guys about it so much i cant help it. as always, comments and reblogs appreciated!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: i didnt get the chance to proofread this one bc of the procedure so don't crucify me if the grammar is awful </3 i have a doctor's pass </3

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

It takes Dazai Osamu approximately two days, seven hours and fifty-three minutes to get his hands on proof of your affiliation with the Port Mafia. He supposes it was due to luck—the timing of when he got confirmation of his suspicions—but Dazai thinks it’s also due to his ability to think quickly if he does say so himself. 

He stares at the file that Katai emailed him, a lump in his throat that he can’t seem to push away, unsure if he wants to open it and be forced with physical evidence of who you are and what you do. He doesn’t even know why he’s so hesitant, he already knows. He already knows so he shouldn’t be hesitant… but if he already knows, then why does he need to see the proof? What is this going to do for him? What is he going to do with this information? Nothing, the answer is nothing, so then why-

Katai: Can you quit holding that date from four years ago over my head now?

Dazai: no ^.^

Katai: Of course not. Whatever. Dazai, I don’t know what you’re doing but you need to stop digging into this—it’s dangerous. And I don’t want to be involved.

Dazai shuts his phone off immediately. 

He hovers the cursor over the video file on his laptop, chewing the inside of his cheek—the supposed footage from whatever happened behind Tokyo’s City Hall last night. With his heart tight in his chest and the image of your smile burned behind his eyelids, he clicks on the file.

Two days after the event, you and Chuuya are sitting in Mori’s office getting the talk down of a lifetime. Mori has been going on for thirty minutes already and you’re sick of his voice. You don’t know how it’s your fault that the Shimazaki-kai decided to try to take you out while you were in Tokyo but evidently it is.

“I don’t see how this is an issue, boss,” Chuuya finally says, voice strained. “The Sun and Steel are already on top of the situation, Noriko was livid when she realized that they tried to assassinate one of us while we were in Tokyo under the Sun and Steel’s protection.”

“You don’t see how this is an issue,” Mori repeats slowly, voice nothing short of mocking. Usually, he at least tries to mask his annoyance—you and Chuuya share a concerned look with one another. “You don’t see how it’s an issue that we’ve caused this conflict to escalate to the point of the Shimazaki-kai being willing to go to war with the Sun and Steel if it means the mere chance of getting rid of one of us?”

“Okay,” Chuuya mutters. “Well, when you say it like that…”

“And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’, little hime,” Mori says coolly, leveling his calculating gaze onto you. You don’t flinch beneath it, meeting it head on as you raise your chin. “This all stems from your reckless decision to attack the Inagawa-kai.”

“She didn’t have a choice.” Chuuya jumps to your defense, frowning. “They attacked her at the ports. That was a declaration of war in itself.”

You almost wince at the ridiculing look Mori directs toward Chuuya, voice amused as he speaks. “Is that what she told you?”

Chuuya gives you a questioning look but you don’t give Mori anymore time to stir the pot. You don’t need Chuuya knowing that your decision was driven by Dazai of all people—he’s already angry enough about the situation with the civilian. 

“And here I thought you were going to… what was it you said? ‘Clean up my mess?’” you say snidely, drawing Mori’s attention back to you. “Perhaps the real reason the Yakuza syndicates are so willing to challenge our authority is not because of my decision but rather because of the incapability perceived in our boss.” 

Chuuya’s eyes shoot open and Mori raises his brows, entirely unperturbed by your comment. 

“To think all it would take for you to start biting back…” Mori trails off, unbearably amused and clearly referring to Dazai, making you stiffen. “How fascinating. You’ve kept up this ruse longer than I expected. I think this is the first time you’ve managed to surprise me, little hime.” 

Your expression twists as you look away, ignoring the lost look Chuuya gives you, clearly irritated because he doesn’t know what’s going on. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you take the welcome distraction eagerly, hoping to find an excuse to get out of this wretched meeting.

Klaus: your civilian boy is at your tower

You: What?

Klaus: *one image attached*

You stare down at your phone in shock, desperately trying to ignore the curious looks Mori and Chuuya are sending your way.

What the fuck?

Dazai tilts his head to the side, giving the three boys standing in front of him a simpering smile. One of them—the emo one with black hair and white tips—bares his teeth at Dazai like a feral dog, the one in the middle—Dazai recognizes him as Klaus, the boy with you that day at the ports—gives him an irritable look, while the one standing in the back—a nervous looking boy with choppy silver hair and a black collar—lets out a pathetic noise in the back of his throat.

“She’s gonna be so fucking mad at you,” Klaus tells him, voice harsh. His Japanese is broken and accented but understandable for the most part. “She’s gonna fucking-”

He shifts into a foreign language mid-sentence—German, maybe—so Dazai doesn’t know what he’s saying but he’s sure it’s nothing good. He keeps up the overly confident facade, even if he does start to doubt himself internally.

Shit, he thinks to himself, smile fraying at the edges, what is he doing?

Dazai definitely did not think this through and it’s way too late for him to back down now. After watching the video and seeing you with the gravity manipulator, seeing the brief battle in the alley behind the Tokyo city hall, Dazai pretty much blackmailed Katai into using the CCTV cameras between both cities to follow you back to Yokohama to see what building you live in. In retrospect, maybe that’s a little creepy, but he just watched you and the gravity manipulator kill a whole crew of people so he thinks stalking you a bit isn’t too bad in comparison.

“Who do you think you are?” the black-haired one says, voice tight and pitched. His jaw is clenched tight and he takes half a step forward but pauses when he sees the sharp look of warning that Klaus gives him.

He thinks maybe he is stupid. Ango used to rattle him around and yell at him for doing stupid things back before Odasaku died but he thinks this might take the cake for the stupidest thing Dazai has ever done. Standing outside a building owned by the Mafia, antagonizing three mafiosos, waiting here to demand a conversation with someone who is likely their boss. Ango might’ve been right when he said that Dazai has no functioning brain cells.

“None of your business,” Dazai replies with a sweet smile, almost giggling at the way the boy bears his teeth again, even more livid than before.

“You-”

“Stop.”

All three boys go rigid at the sound of your voice and even Dazai stiffens at the cold tone. He forces himself to turn his head to the side, eyes falling upon you as you make your way toward the four of them. The suit you’re wearing today is different—usually he’s seen you wear black on black, but today you’re wearing a burgundy button-up under your suit jacket. You look beautiful—always do, Dazai thinks wistfully—but Dazai finds himself swallowing thickly instead, not used to the blank look you cast over him before you turn your attention over to the three boys.

Ouch, Dazai thinks, not really knowing what he expected but it still hurts to be dismissed like that.

“Klaus, go wipe the cameras around headquarters—wherever he might have passed through,” you say. “Akutagawa, Atsushi, if anyone finds out about this…”

The two boys that Dazai doesn’t recognize share a look with one another, odd expressions spreading across their faces before they nod. All three scamper off without another word, the silver-haired boy giving Dazai a short, worried look that puts Dazai on edge before leaving. You don’t look at him. Rather, you stride right past him toward the building.

Dazai swallows thickly before following after you. You don’t say a word as you lead him to the tall, black building and Dazai wants to say something but his words get caught in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say. Dazai always has something to say but he doesn’t right now and that scares him because he needs to figure out what he’s going to say to you when the two of you finally get up to your apartment.

“Hey, I know you’re a mafia executive because I had my hacker friend get me CCTV tapes from the Tokyo City Hall and I saw you and that short ginger with the tacky hat murder a bunch of guys. Plus, I had him stalk you so I could figure out where you live.”

Yeah, right.

Dazai shivers at the rush of cool air that hits him as he enters the building with you, watches the way the doorman gives him a curious look before inclining his head to you. You give the older man a pointed look before nodding your head to one of the corners of the room and the elevator—Dazai doesn’t know what you’re getting at but he obviously does from the way says:

“Of course, hime.”

You don’t say anything still, leading him toward the elevator and holding it open so he can step past and stand inside. You follow after him, clicking the button to the top floor of the building before scanning a keycard.

How awkward.

Dazai almost wants to crawl out of his own skin, toss himself right out of the glass elevator looking over the city. You don’t even look at him—you keep your gaze trained forward, lips curled down, not even sparing Dazai the briefest glance as the elevator starts to move up. 

Maybe this was a mistake, Dazai starts to think, twiddling with his fingers as he keeps sparing short glances in your direction. He still doesn’t even know what he wants to come from this—shouldn’t the proof of your affiliation with the Mafia have been enough to send him running? He should’ve taken it as reason to stop reaching out to you, gone back to life before you but-

But life before you was dark. 

His throat spasms as he swallows. Life before you was dark. Life before you was him dragging himself out of bed every day trying to convince himself that he couldn’t let himself die until he fulfilled Odasaku’s final request. Life before you was him fighting depressive episode after depressive episode with alcohol and sex, preferring pain to the emptiness he seemed to constantly be plagued with because at least that meant he could feel something. 

He doesn’t want to go back to that—you’re the first person who's actually seen him since Odasaku died. The first person to make him feel as if he’s worth something. He doesn’t give a shit about about what you do, he doesn’t want to go back to life without you.

He glances over at you again, catching the eerily blank expression on your face as you stare ahead. Three words spill from his lips before he can stop them.

“Are you mad?” His voice wavers over the question; he feels pathetic. Feels like a kid tugging at his mother’s shirt after he did something wrong.

You finally look at him though, turn your head slowly toward him as if you don’t even want to believe he actually asked that. Dazai doesn’t know if it’s progress or not because the expression on your face is nothing short of livid.

“Okay,” he says quietly, averting his gaze back to the glass of the elevator.

God, how many floors is this building? The ride to the top floor is taking an agonizingly long amount of time. He doesn’t know if it’s because the elevator itself is slow or if it’s because the building is just that tall or if it just seems longer because of Dazai’s own turmoil—either way, it leaves Dazai miserable.

He really needs to figure out what he’s going to say to you. He should have figured it out before coming here but Dazai just got too antsy with the information Katai gave him on hand and he found himself making his way over here before he could double guess himself.

He doesn’t think you’ll appreciate him using Katai to get the evidence of your position in the Mafia—plus, it could put him in danger and Dazai doesn’t want that. He thinks maybe he’ll pin the blame on his professor—you don’t seem to like him anyway, so you might take it at face value. If you don’t, he’ll have to figure something else out to protect Katai but Dazai has always been a quick thinker so he has faith that he’ll think of something. 

 If he’s lucky, you’ll lead the conversation and he’ll be able to reflect off of you after seeing where your head's at. That would be the best case scenario.

After what feels like an eternity, the elevator finally bings, signaling that it has finally reached the top floor of the building. You step out before him, hardly even looking at him as you stride into your apartment. Dazai follows after, a bit more hesitantly.

His breath catches as his gaze twists around the massive space—floor to ceiling windows line the walls looking over the city, black couches set up in front of the TV and expensive decor littering the room, there’s a kitchen off to the right and a staircase leading up to a second level. 

What types of apartments have staircases? Dazai thinks, distressed, finally looking back at you. 

You’ve crossed the room—almost like you’ve wanted to put as much distance as possible between you and him, which is a thought that kind of hurts because he’s been yearning for your presence since you left his apartment the morning you were supposed to leave for abroad. Your expression is entirely unreadable and Dazai doesn’t really know how to feel about that because he can’t figure out how to approach this now. 

“You know, originally I was interested in you because I thought you were a lot smarter than you made yourself out to be,” you say, voice dry. Dazai nearly cheers, realizing that he did, in fact, get the best case scenario—he listens intently, mind racing as he tries to figure out what route he should take with you. “I was clearly wrong.”

Dazai pouts. “My bella thinks I’m stupid,” he sighs dramatically but his lashes flutter as he averts his gaze when you don’t find any amusement in his words, readjusting his plan. His theatrical lilt falls flat when he adds, “Maybe I am.”

“I don’t think there’s a maybe,” you correct, unamused. “What do you know and what do you want?” 

Dazai is almost taken aback by your tone—cold and flat, very transactional. Maybe he should have taken the lead because he doesn’t know what you mean and he doesn’t like your tone. He watches as you fish through your pocket to find a cigarette and lighter, sticking it between your lips to light it. You look up at him, raising your eyebrows.

“What?” he asks, voice a bit weak.

“What do you know and what do you want? I think they’re pretty simple questions,” you say sardonically. “I have a general idea of what you know already—if you’re here, you have more than whatever that cunt Ui has on me—and I promise you that no amount of money the Ivory Eagle will offer you can compare to what I’ll give you. Plus, I’ll have to kill you if you go to it with them so I think that’s pretty convincing in itself. I want to know exactly what you know so I can figure out how much they’d pay you for the information. I figure you want money, that’s why you’re here.”

“I don’t…” Dazai trails off, a bit lost. He’s still not sure why he came here but he knows it’s not for money and honestly, he thinks he’s a little hurt that you assumed that, can feel the sting in his chest and the lump in his throat.

The smile you give him is cool, you tilt your head to the side and look at him. “Come on, Dazai, you don’t have to keep up with the act. You got close to me to get evidence for Ui, that’s obvious; probably realized it would be more worthwhile trying to get money from me to keep you quiet because they’ve barely got enough money to keep their shitty journalism house running. Honestly, I should probably just-”

“No,” Dazai forces out, interrupting you, lips parted and throat swollen—this is not going well. “That’s not-that’s not true. I didn’t get close to you to get evidence, I didn’t even know until the other day.”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Dazai?” you ask, expression tight. “Because I’m not. As soon as you slipped up and said his name at the event, I realized. You think we don’t know everything that goes on in this city? About that shitty journalist group trying to expose us?” 

“I didn’t slip up,” Dazai says, voice more shrill than he intended it to be. His mind falls flat at every corner as he tries to figure out how to salvage this. “I didn’t slip up because I didn’t know. I didn’t know. It wasn’t-this wasn’t some grand scheme, I like you-” (he didn’t mean to say that) “I mean-it’s just-I don’t-”

Dazai feels flustered. He feels flustered and he’s stumbling over words in a way that he hasn’t in years, unable to get out a single coherent sentence because his mind is all over the place. Shit, he thought he was going to have to defend himself from having Katai stalk you so he could figure this out and find you; he didn’t think he’d have to defend himself because you thought everything from day one was some grand scheme to expose you as a mafioso.

You clearly don’t believe him from the way you roll your eyes and it makes Dazai’s distress spike exponentially. 

“Then pray tell, Dazai, why are you here? You’re here for something, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t have been stupid enough to show up here of all places to dangle over my head that you know who I am.”

The words slip from his lips before he can stop them.

“I wanted you to stop ignoring me,” he says, arms instinctively curling around his body as he stares at you, feeling more than a bit vulnerable at the blank look you give him in response to his words.

“You… want to make me stop ignoring you by… blackmailing me?”

“... Yes?”

The sigh you let out is long. Instead of responding, you take a drag of your cigarette, tilting your head back against the wall you’re leaning on to look up at the ceiling. Dazai stares at you, chewing the inside of his cheek as he waits for your response.

“What do you have on me?” you finally ask, taking a few steps forward to put the cigarette out on an ashtray before raising your eyebrows and tilting your head to the side. “Well? I know you must have more than the location of this building.”

Dazai hesitates before he says, “Footage from behind the Tokyo City Hall.”

Your expression doesn’t betray you as you press, “Footage of what?”

“You and the ginger with the ugly hat,” Dazai answers, trying not to smile at the way you clearly have to hide your amusement at his snide comment. 

“What are we doing in the footage?” you ask. “What makes it condemning?”

“… He splattered six guys against the wall.” 

You sigh, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “Jesus fucking Christ, Dazai. You saw that and still came here? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Dazai gives you a weak smile “You’ll have to be a bit more specific, there are a lot of things wrong with me,” he tells you, echoing the words from your second meeting with him, hoping they make you lighten up.

They do.

He watches as you let out another breath, tense shoulders relaxing, suddenly looking a lot more tired as you look away from him.

“I missed you,” he adds quietly, fingers running along the hem of his sweater. “It’s cruel and unusual punishment to kiss a guy like you did and then ghost him.”

“It was to keep you out of this life, Dazai,” you say tiredly. “I mean-shit, Dazai. I don’t know what you want me to do, I don’t even trust you right now, you could have a fucking wire on you for all I know and-”

“I could strip for you,” Dazai offers, lips curling up in a flirtatious smile as he flutters his lashes at you. “I’ll give you a show.”

You’re not amused.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Dazai. This is your life.”

“Well, my life has been one giant joke up until I met you so forgive me if I don’t care,” Dazai says, voice unintentionally rising in response to your words because who are you to decide on his behalf to cut him off because his life is in danger. That’s a decision for him to make. “You can’t just make those decisions for me.”

Dazai thinks he prefers the anger that crosses over your face to the tiredness and emptiness. His breath catches when he sees the way your jaw tightens and the way your eyes get fired up.

“It doesn’t just affect you, Dazai,” you hiss. “If you get pulled into this and something happens to you, that’s on me.”

Dazai’s heart jumps at the implications of your words, nails digging into his palms.

“And how does that affect you?” Dazai presses, the desperation that hangs off of his words so glaring that Dazai almost wants to curl in on himself. He wants to hear you say it, wants you to alleviate all of the thoughts threatening to consume him since you left his apartment that morning—wants to hear you say that you care, that he does mean something to you.

Your expression becomes closed off again as you realize what he wants you to say and Dazai swallows thickly, gaze searching your face for answers.

“You know how it affects me,” you finally respond as you look away. “You know, Dazai.”

It has nothing to do with what I want, you said at the event when he asked why you didn’t tell him why you didn’t want to be with him. The conflict on your face when you said things were too complicated to explain. The anger when you realized Professor Ui had purposely put him in danger trying to get evidence to condemn the Sun and Steel.

“I want you to say it,” he says hoarsely.

You don’t reply for a moment, watching him with an expression that’s impossible for him to decipher. Your brows are furrowed and your lips are pressed together tight, but the look in your eyes—there’s so much emotion in them that Dazai thinks he could get lost in them, it nearly leaves him breathless.

“You are actually the bane of my existence, Dazai Osamu,” you finally say, shoulders slumping as you look away again. Not exactly what he wanted to hear but he thinks that’s as good of an admission that he’s going to get right now.

“And the object of all of your desires?” Dazai prods with a teasing smile.

Your gaze cuts back toward him. “Did you just quote Bridgerton at me?” you ask, voice riddled with disbelief.

Embarrassed, Dazai flushes and then he hits you back with: “You watched Bridgerton?”

Instead of responding, seemingly equally embarrassed by the callout as Dazai is, you scowl at him and shake your head but your voice is lighter now when you speak—if only barely. “Honestly, Dazai, what did you think you were going to get out of this by coming here? I could have killed you. I should kill you. Coming to the headquarters of the Port Mafia to blackmail one of its executives with evidence threatening to expose them-”

“I didn’t threaten to expose you,” Dazai protests, prancing a bit more into your apartment. Now that he’s not as stressed, he can actually admire your apartment—apartment, is this even an apartment? He runs his fingers along the pristine black marble of the bar separating your kitchen from the living room, ignoring the way your eyes follow him. “I just…”

“You threatened to expose me,” you interrupt dryly. “You implied it.”

“I did not,” Dazai complains. “It’s not my fault you took it that way.”

You roll your eyes. “What were you thinking, Dazai?” you ask again.

Dazai gives you a sweet smile. “I’m thinking that you’re going to take me out on a date.”

You don’t know why you’re even entertaining him.

Three days later, you’re outside Dazai’s apartment complex waiting for him to get back from his classes. You’d have gone to the campus itself but you don’t feel like having to beg Albatross or Iceman to get into the campus cameras to wipe the footage of you being there, especially knowing that it’ll get right back to Chuuya who is still under the belief that you’re no longer talking to Dazai.

You scowl as you look down at your phone, checking the time again. He should’ve been back ten minutes ago—you told him you were here waiting. Your reservation is in thirty minutes and he still has to change, you glance over your shoulder as a group of college students make their way toward the complex. You hardly stop yourself from rolling your eyes, you’d figured that the complex would be popular with the kids attending YNU—that’s why you ended up buying it—but you really don’t want to interact with any of them. 

You can feel them looking at you too—fuck, you should have just stayed in your car. From the corner of your eye, you can see them exchange curious looks with one another. One of the boys nudges another, clearly beckoning him to go try to talk to you and you will strength from the gods-

You hear your name fall from familiar lips, quiet and unsure, and the unpleasant expression that you know must be on your face melts away. You let your head fall to the side over your shoulder, gaze focusing on Dazai—he’s dressed casually in a brown sweater and cream pants, school books tucked to his chest and backpack hanging off of his shoulders. He looks surprised at the sight of you so you raise your eyebrows.

“You’re late, I texted you,” you say simply as he approaches you, glancing at the car and then to you curiously.

“My phone died,” he replies sheepishly, a bit of light returning to his eyes as he comes closer to you. Warmth starts to spread through your chest when you see how the corners of his lips twitch up, fingers absently thrumming against his books. “Where are we going?” 

“You’re getting changed,” you reply, nodding to the suit hanging in the passenger seat of he car, “and then-”

“Yo, Dazai-kun!”

Your eye twitches at the interruption, gaze twisting to the side to fall on one of the boys from that group you’d been dreading walking over before Dazai arrived. You notice him stiffen, an uncomfortable expression crossing his face when he hears his name being called. So, you sigh, motion for him to go into the car and grab the suit as you turn your attention to the group of approaching college students.

“We’re busy,” you say with a tight smile, tone short and perfunctory but trying to be polite. 

Your eyes sweep over the one who spoke up—he’s dressed nice, slacks and a button up, tailored neatly to his body, but there’s something so distasteful about him that you can’t help the way your lip curls up in disgust. Maybe it’s because of the way Dazai looks so uncomfortable.

The man looks entirely unperturbed by your blatant dismissal, giving you a charming smile. “I’m Yoshimura Hiro—me and Daz-”

Irritated, you glance one last time at Dazai, seeing that he got the suit out of the car and shut the door. You lock the car and without another word, press your hand against Dazai’s lower back to urge him forward, walking away from the small group without another word.

Dazai can hardly muffle the snort that escapes his lips as soon as the two of you make it into the building. His eyes have regained that brightness that they’d lost when his classmates approached you, a smile curving at his lips.

“That was so rude,” he says with a grin.

“We have a reservation to make,” you tell him dryly. “I said we were busy.”

“Still, you didn’t even wait for him to finish introducing himself.”

“Would you have preferred I had?” you ask, glancing at him as he unlocks his apartment, watching as his smile falters as he shakes his head. “Why don’t you get along with them?”

Dazai shrugs but he seems a bit more awkward now as you step into his apartment. He tosses his books onto the coffee table and shrugs his backpack off onto the couch. You lean against the wall as you wait for him to respond, noting that his apartment is much cleaner than the last time you were here.

“They don’t like me,” he corrects absently, fiddling with a mug on his coffee table before bringing it over to the kitchen. “Most people don’t.”

There’s a silent question lingering at the end of the sentence—you know it, even if you couldn’t tell from the way the words hang, you can see it in the way his eyes draw over to you. Maybe he wants reassurance of some kind that you do like him, that you’re not just doing this because of the blackmail, but the words die on the tip of your tongue.

Instead, you say, “Go get changed. We’re running late already.”

Dazai looks disappointed by your words—you can see it in the way his shoulders slump and his lashes lower, the corner of his lips tightening—but he lets out a dramatic sigh, muttering something under his breath before going into his bathroom to change.

Luckily, it only takes him a few minutes to get changed into the suit. He comes out as he’s still buttoning up the waistcoat—jacket slung over his shoulder. Your eyes drop down to his slim waist, eyes lingering at how neatly the vest clings to it.

Kido really did a good job, you think, having to drag your eyes back up to his face as he finally shrugs the jacket on and looks back up at you.

“You look nice,” you compliment, watching as his cheeks flush just a shade darker. “I didn’t have time to change after my meeting. If I’d known you were going to be ten minutes late, I would’ve.” 

Dazai promptly scowls at you. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have waited until the last second to tell me. What if I already had plans?” he complains, but then adds, “… I think you look beautiful.”

“I wear this outfit everyday,” you dismiss, ignoring the way your chest flutters.

“I know,” he admits quietly. “You look beautiful everyday.”

Oh.

“We should go!” Dazai says suddenly, a bit too loudly to be casual. “We’re running late, aren’t we?” 

You clear your throat. “Yeah,” you say. “Come on, let’s go.” 

The walk back to your car is quiet—the students you’d left there are gone, thank god. You can feel Dazai looking at you every few seconds as if he wants to say something but can’t bring himself to say it. You have half a mind to just tell him to spit it out but you still find yourself a bit flustered so you just let it be until you’re in the car.

“Where are we going anyway?” Dazai finally asks as you pull out of the complex, twisting in the passenger seat to look at you. His eyes look almost golden beneath the rays of the sun, soft and excited, you can’t help the way your gaze lingers before you force yourself to focus on the road.

“You said you wanted to go to that restaurant by your campus, didn’t you?” you ask, tilting your head to the side to raise your eyebrows before looking forward again. “Taking you there.”

“The rooftop restaurant looking over the park?” Dazai splutters, eyes widening. “You remembered that? It’s so expensive, I-”

You don’t even acknowledge the last thing he was saying. Instead, you give him a squinty look before asking, “Why wouldn’t I remember?”

Dazai’s lips part as he stares at you like he’s trying to say something but can’t bring himself to. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, it makes your heart twist in on itself. It’s too intense, too close to lo-

You don’t even let yourself finish that sentence, focusing back on the road as you change the subject. “They import crabs from the Beagle Channel in southern Argentina—best quality in the world, much better than that canned shit you eat every day.”

“What do you have against canned crab?” Dazai complains, leaning his head against the window. “You hate me. How did you even get a reservation at this place? They’re booked out like ten months in advance, we talked three days ago.”

You give Dazai a heavy side eye that he understands instantly from how he rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath that you don’t quite catch.

“What was that?” you ask, giving him a pointed smile.

“Nothing,” he scowls.

You smile to yourself, focusing on driving again. The restaurant isn’t far from his complex so you get there pretty quickly. Dazai is quiet for most of the rest of the ride aside from the occasional comment about his classes. He bitches about his engineering class and all of the irritating freshman boys that he’s taking it with because it’s a 101 class, tells you vaguely about how he’s on a roll for one of his projects for his poetry workshop, explains the plot of the book he’s reading for his creative writing class, and he notably does not mention anything about his journalism class—you don’t know if it’s because he’s too awkward to bring it up or what, but you’re grateful for it because the last thing you want to do is think about him working with Ui Koutarou to expose you as a mafia executive. You still don’t even entirely believe this isn’t some whole big scheme they concocted together.

You let the car roll to a stop in front of the tower the restaurant is in, leaving it running as you put it in park and nod for Dazai to get out. You get out yourself, grabbing the keys and tossing them over to the valet with a quick thanks before leading Dazai into the building.

He looks almost wonderstruck as he steps into the tower, brown eyes wide and glittering as he looks at all of the expensive decor in the lobby of the tower. You have to physically guide him forward, arm slipping around his waist to get him moving in the direction of the elevator, but as soon as you come in contact with him, he goes rigid. Your brows furrow, about to pull your arm back but before you can, he presses his palm against the back of your hand, holding your arm in place for a quick second. You can’t help the smile that twitches to your lips when his arm drops back to his side and you catch the pretty flush staining his cheeks as he pointedly looks away.

You lead him into the elevator, catching the pout that pushes at his lips when your arm leaves his waist and you’re going to tease him for it but then you catch the oddly intense look in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he replies, throat bobbing as if considering what to say. “It’s just… no one has ever done this for me before.”

“It’s just dinner, Dazai,” you tell him, voice quiet as you look away, missing the way his expression drops at your words.

“Yeah,” he agrees, though he sounds strained now so you give him a concerned look that he tries to play off with a smile that’s too frayed at the edges for comfort. You’re about to call him out on it but you don’t get the chance because the elevator doors slide open to the restaurant on the top floor before you can.

A familiar face stands on the other side of the elevator, delighted at the sight of you. “Hime,” the owner of the restaurant greets as you step out of the elevator with Dazai, reaching out to clasp one of your hands with both of his. “I almost didn’t believe it when they said you called to see if we could get you a table tonight. It’s been so long.”

“Ah, Yoshida-san, you’ll have to forgive me,” you say with an easy smile. “You know how busy work can get.”

“Of course, of course,” Yoshida replies, glancing at Dazai and inclining his head to him. “This must be your date. Come, I’ll seat the two of you.”

Dazai looks a bit out of his depth, the smile on his face strained and an unsure look in his eyes so you reach out to hook your arm into his, leading him through the restaurant as you make idle talk with Yoshida. You’re pleased when he brings you to a table near the window with a view over the whole park and the distant bay. 

Yoshida bows his head down to the two of you and lets you get settled, you take a seat but then give Dazai an odd look when he just stands there with a contemplative expression. You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he suddenly moves to grab the chair opposite you.

He drags the chair from his side of the table all the way to yours. The legs scrape the floor so loudly that it draws the attention of all of the other patrons of the restaurant. You stare at him, lips parted in disbelief, but Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return. He’s entirely unperturbed, plopping the chair down right next to yours and taking a seat in it. He rests his elbow on the table, propping his chin on his hand and watching you with an indescribable look in his eyes.

“You’re the worst,” you tell him but there’s no heat to your words as the corners of your lips tug up.

“You love me anyway,” Dazai coos, gaze flickering down to your lips briefly before settling back on your eyes.

When a soft, pleased smile spreads across Dazai’s face as he leans in to nudge his shoulder against yours, you have to actively remind yourself that you’re only doing this because of the blackmail. 

Dazai is already lounging on your couch when you get up to your apartment. You don’t seem to notice him—you’re clearly unhappy about something, lips twisted down and brows furrowed as you talk to someone on your phone. It’s not until Dazai peeks his head up above the back of the couch to look at you do you finally catch sight of the movement, eyes flickering to the side to focus on him.

“Thanks, Tolstoy, I’ll let you know if I need him. I appreciate it,” you say before letting the phone drop from your ear and ending the call. 

For a horrifying second, your expression doesn’t change and all of those insecurities that he can’t push away—that you really are only doing this because of the video, that he’s forcing himself on you instead of giving you an excuse to actually be with him that goes above the fears that are haunting you. But then, you sigh and your shoulders slump. You toss your jacket onto the other couch before sitting with him on the one he’s sitting on, knees knocking against his.

“Hi,” Dazai says with a small smile, itching to shift closer to you but hardly refraining. “You’re late today.”

“You’re early,” you reply dryly but there’s a fond curl to the corners of your lips that makes Dazai feel nice and warm. “You know, I think you’ve been at my apartment more than yours the past week.”

Dazai’s smile becomes simpering. “Why would I stay in my small, dirty apartment when I could stay in your nice one?” he asks, watching as you roll yours. “Anyway, you love it when I’m here. Your apartment would be so lonely and boring without me.”

“It would be something alright,” you agree half-heartedly, leaning your head against the back of the couch and letting your eyes slide shut.

Dazai’s smile falters as soon as your gaze leaves him, an uncomfortable and unwelcome feeling spreading through his chest. Is he being too much? He has been spending a lot of time at your apartment but it’s because whenever he’s alone, his own thoughts threaten to consume him. They whisper too loudly about how you’d never be doing this without the blackmail, about how he’s so desperate to not be alone that he’d stoop to forcing you to hang out with him. They’re quieter when he’s here, even when you’re not, so he’s been spending as much time as possible in your apartment, doing his schoolwork and watching TV while he waits for you to come back.

“Long day?” Dazai finally asks to draw himself out of his own thoughts, watching as you look back over at him.

“Mhm,” you agree, leaning your head against the back of the couch. “Lots of meetings. All with people I don’t like.”

You’ve become a bit more open over the past week—you still don’t tell him anything of importance, of course, but you’re at least not avoiding just about every topic that edges somewhat close to your ‘business’. He still feels like he doesn’t know you as well as he should and he hasn’t tried to push that anymore since the night you showed up at his apartment. He wants to try to push again but he’s just worried that he’s going to take it too far and he’ll mess it up.

He supposes he should at least try to feel it out though.

“Can I ask something?” he asks after a moment, almost wincing when you immediately cast him a suspicious look.

“The last time you asked me that, you were trying to figure out if I was in the Mafia,” you say doubtfully and Dazai’s throat goes dry as you lean back against the arm of the couch and extend your legs outward onto his lap. Hesitantly, he drops his hand onto your ankle, grip becoming more firm when you don’t instantly pull away.

“Well, we’ve already figured that out,” Dazai says with a sweet smile but then lets the smile drop as he adds more seriously, “I just want to get to know you better.”

You sigh, watching him carefully for a moment before nodding. “Go ahead,” you say. “Ask.”

“What’s your ability?”

Instantly, you sigh and look away. Dazai’s heart drops and his lips part to say something else but he doesn’t know what.

“I can’t, Dazai,” you finally tell him and Dazai tries not to be disappointed but he can’t help the way his lashes lower. “It’s not-you shouldn’t even know I have an ability. Only a handful of people know. It’s literally the most confidential secret in the-I can’t.”

“But I already know you have one,” Dazai presses, his tone coming across as far too close to a whine considering the look you give him. “What’s the harm in telling me what it is?” 

“Dazai,” you say, voice becoming more edged. “You don’t understand what people would do to get intel on my ability—I’m not going to-”

“I just want to know you,” Dazai interrupts, words drawn out and throat tight. “I just-I want to know you.”

You stare at him for a moment and Dazai’s grip on your ankle tightens, expression dropping. Just as he’s about to drawback and give up, you sigh and look away from him.

“I can mess around with people’s minds,” you finally tell him, voice quiet. Dazai’s eyes widen, head snapping toward you as he waits for you to continue. “I can… induce different types of mental and physical states in the brain and mind.”

“Like… Emma Frost?” Dazai asks, squinting. You give him an odd look so he amends, “Like mind control?” 

“No,” you answer. “I can’t… control minds. I can like… induce short term changes in emotions and sensations. I’m not directly manipulating them but putting them into a state and letting them work with it. They can either snap themselves out of it or make it stronger.”

“... I see,” Dazai says slowly. “So, you can make someone happy but if something makes them sad after, it’ll snap them out of it?”

“Pretty much,” you hum but there’s a weird look on your face that tells Dazai that maybe you’re not saying everything. “Some emotions are easier than others. Happiness is more… fragile, harder to sustain in a target. Fear is much more… a lot like a parasite—once you put it in someone’s head, almost everyone will start to spiral. It’s much harder to break out of.”

“The mindkiller,” Dazai notes, quoting one of his favorite books, a bit of morbid curiosity spiking, wanting to know how he would fare.

You give him an amused look. “Now, you’re quoting Dune? Quite the broad taste in media.”

“You’ve read Dune, too?” Dazai gapes. “You must be my soulmate.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Ridiculously cute,” Dazai counters immediately, smile twitching at his lips when he sees the fond expression on your face.

Then, naturally, he makes a mistake. 

“Can you use it on me?” Dazai asks, leaning forward a bit. When you give him a sharp, alarmed look, he quickly fumbles out, “Not like anything big. I just want to see what it’s like. Just something sma-”

“No.”

“But-”

“No,” you say loudly, making Dazai draw back, hand falling from your ankle to rest on the couch next to him. You pull your legs off of his lap and sit up straight, turning your body away from him. “Just no, Dazai. Don’t ask me that again.”

“I didn’t mean-” Dazai starts to apologize but he’s flustered, not having expected a response like that from you. He fucked up. Again. Just as he was making progress. Again. “I don’t-”

“I can’t turn off my ability,” you tell him quietly after a moment. “It’s… always going to some extent. Making people around me more at ease so they feel more comfortable talking to me. I don’t like using it to its full extent if I don’t have to, not on people I consider friends at least. I never know if people… I don’t know who wants to be around me for me and who’s just influenced by my ability.”

Oh.

Dazai shifts closer to you, there’s an unreadable expression on your face as you stare ahead. He hesitates for a second before reaching out and grabbing your hand, forcing you to look at him.

“I want you for you,” Dazai stresses. When you start to shake your head and look away, he repeats, “I do. I-”

“You wouldn’t know, Dazai,” you say, voice tight. “That’s the issue, you wouldn’t know.”

“I would know,” Dazai tells you, squeezing your hand. “I would know, I want you. I do.”

You don’t respond to him this time, staring ahead and Dazai doesn’t know what to do because you look sad. You look lost in your own thoughts, consumed by whatever is running through your head. It’s familiar—the same way he probably looks whenever he lets the parasites in his brain start eating away, sending him down a dangerous spiral.

He wants to draw you out of it. 

More than that, he wants to kiss you again. Desperately. 

He’s yearned for it since that night in his apartment, spent long nights alone and aching for your company when he thought you were abroad. For days, he could feel his lips tingling with the ghost of yours still brushing against them, could feel the weight of your body on his hips, grounding him when he thought he would finally be consumed by the emptiness that perpetually plagues him. He thinks maybe he can draw you out in the same way you always do for him. 

He wants to kiss you, and he’s about to lean in to do just that, breath catching in the back of his throat as his body becomes prickly with nerves.

You turn your head away before he can, rising to your feet and making your way to your bedroom, leaving him damningly alone in the living room of your apartment. 

He lets out a shaky breath, staring down at his lap, a cold and unsure feeling taking root in his chest.

Dazai has become a constant presence in your life. 

At first, it caused you nothing but stress—you constantly feared that him showing up to your apartment would lead to unwelcome eyes learning of his existence but he’s been very careful entering and leaving the building, and Klaus has been on top of the cameras. You think it’s been around a week and a half, maybe two weeks since Dazai first confronted you about everything and in that week and a half (maybe two weeks), you don’t think a single day has gone by without you coming home to find Dazai curled up on your couch or hunched over your kitchen table.

Today is no different.

Your head is pounding when you make it up to your apartment, you’d spent two hours arguing with Chuuya over how to approach the issue with Shimazaki-kai. The Sun and Steel are struggling against them in Tokyo and Mishima Michiko had come to Yokohama personally to request assistance from the Port Mafia in routing them from Shibuya-ku. You don’t want to send Chuuya there—it’s only a matter of time before the Guild shows up in Yokohama to try to take the weretiger and you’ll need Chuuya here when they do. You can’t risk sending him off now.

But Chuuya wants to go there now—says that it’s a bad look that the Port Mafia started this conflict and is now leaving the Sun and Steel to suffer the consequences. And he’s right, but the Guild is more pressing than the Shimazaki-kai.

 It’s not often that the two of you disagree on tactical decisions, but when you do, the disagreements are stressful and explosive. Both of you are bullheaded and both of you are convinced that your decision is the correct one—and Lippmann wasn’t here to force you guys to settle down so it just became more and more heated until you finally stormed off.

You pause when you enter your apartment and hear a choppy tune being played on the piano in your living room—something you vaguely recognize as the beginning of Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude even with the many mistakes being made. Your stress and frustration slips away as you catch sight of Dazai sitting at the piano bench, so focused on the sheet music in front of him that he doesn’t even notice your arrival.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you quietly make your way over to him, watching as he pauses in the song and sighs, clearly frustrated by his mistakes. You take the opportunity to slide your hand across his shoulder blades; he jumps beneath your touch, eyes widening as he twists his neck to look up at you, cheeks flushing. 

“I didn’t know you played,” you say absently. “If you want, I can have the spare room on this floor made into a music room for you.”

You don’t know why you offer it, but you enjoy the look in his eyes as his gaze focuses on you: big and imploring, full of emotion. It’s a welcome change from the livid expression Chuuya had been casting your way for the past few hours.

“I don’t really,” Dazai says awkwardly. “I was just trying it out.”

“Well, do you like it?” you ask him, taking a seat on the bench next to him, fingers lingering on his lower back.

“I think so,” he tells you after a few moments, lashes fluttering as he looks down at the keys and then back up at you. “I think my mother used to play… I don’t really remember her, but I can vaguely remember a song she used to play.”

There’s an odd look in his eyes as he averts his gaze and you squeeze his side gently before saying, “Maybe the more you play, the more it’ll come back to you.

“Yeah, maybe,” he agrees half-heartedly, looking at you again, more carefully this time. “Are you okay?” 

You pause, not having expected him to catch onto your bad mood so quickly when you were doing your best to hide it, but you finally sigh and shake your head.

“Yeah,” you tell him, motioning for him to get up so the two of you can move over to the much more comfortable couch. “Stressful day. I thought you had class on Wednesdays.”

“It was online today,” Dazai says, propping his arms up on the back of the couch as he sits up. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be back until super late tonight.”

You scoff. “Yeah, until I got into a fight with Chuuya,” you mutter, making your way over to him to sit on the couch with him, looking at the puzzle he has spread out on your coffee table. “Where’d you get this?” 

Dazai gives you a sweet smile. “You left your computer open yesterday, I ordered some things.”

Dazai inches closer to you, there’s an indecipherable expression on his face, lips parted and eyes a bit wide. You can feel his knee nudging yours and you know what he wants. He’s been trying to make subtle moves on you for days but you just… You don’t know. You’re scared.

You’re scared.

You don’t think you’ve felt this way since you were a kid, trapped in that room in the military base on Tokoyami Island desperately trying to understand what your ability was so you wouldn’t be thrown back out into a warzone. Except now, it’s not just your fate on the line—every decision you make, Dazai’s life hinges on it and you’ve been making stupid ones for weeks. Even now, letting him stay at your apartment… Even if you do own all of the cameras, even if Klaus is on top of it, even if Dazai is being careful, it’s only a matter of time before a mistake is made.

You don’t know what you’re still holding out for. Maybe a chance to make him understand what exactly is at stake, break things off with you on his own… Maybe you’re waiting for something else. Your conversation with Tolstoy echoes through your head, his offer of sending Ilya Repin to you for you to utilize as you please.

Ilya Repin. A Crucession in Oakwood. 

Someone who can wipe Dazai’s memories of you so you can send him back off to live a normal life, make him forget he ever met you. It’s not something you want to do, fiddling with people’s minds… you know better than anyone that it’s not something to take lightly. But would it be worth it to ensure he lives? That he doesn’t get drawn any further into your shitshow life? The thought makes your chest ache painfully but if it means he would be safe.

You let out a shaky breath, looking away, and you can feel the disappointment emanating off of him, you can feel his fingers brushing your arm, but before you can say anything to him, you hear your elevator bing.

Someone arriving at your floor.

Your eyes widen as you rise to your feet, you cast Dazai a panicked look. He follows after you, unsure of what he should do. Klaus is across the city—he’s the only one that can come up to your apartment without permission besides-

Besides Chuuya.

Oh shit.

“Go to the kitchen,” you say, voice tight and stressed, you push Dazai forward to get him moving. You cannot let Chuuya know that Dazai is here. “Get to the-”

“Yo.” You hear Chuuya say, voice low and distracted as he steps into your apartment. He’s looking down at a bottle of wine, so you wave your hand at Dazai frantically, shooing him into the kitchen. He shoots you a panicked look before rushing into the kitchen. “I didn’t mean to let shit get so heated before.”

“You’re good,” you tell him, careful to keep the strain from your voice as Chuuya finally looks up from the bottle and makes his way over to you. “Takes two, I shouldn’t have been so quick to snap at you.”

“Nah.” Chuuya shakes his head, plopping down on the couch next to you. “You’ve been going through shit. The Boss constantly on your ass, having to drop that kid you liked-” shit “-I should’ve let it go instead of pressing. Brought you this.”

Oh, you’re in a bad spot. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts as you race to figure out what to do. You have to get Chuuya out of your apartment, but the man knows you so well that it’ll be impossible to do that without raising suspicion. If this were any other day and Dazai Osamu wasn’t hiding in your kitchen, you would be trying to worm more than just a bottle of wine out of Chuuya—probably dinner and a night out to go along with it—but he’ll want to crack open the bottle before going out and your wine glasses are in your kitchen.

Shit.

“An ‘82 Rothschild,” you drawl. “You’re really trying to butter me up.”

Chuuya gives you a smile that makes you feel guilty. “‘Cause I feel like shit,” he mutters and you hardly refrain from wincing because you know he wouldn’t if he knew the truth.

You think you might be the worst person alive. 

“How about we put it in the wine fridge and head out for the night?” you hum, nudging his shoulder. “Didn’t you want to try that new bar by the ports in Naka? The one Lippmann went to with his coworkers? We’ll save the wine for us to celebrate after we wipe out the Shimazaki-kai.” 

A good move. You almost pat yourself on the back for it—Chuuya’s been talking about this bar for weeks, but hasn’t gotten a break from work to actually go check it out. He was livid the other day when he found out Albatross and Iceman went without him. Plus, you implied that you’d give in a little on the argument you were having with him earlier; maybe you won’t send him to Tokyo to help the Sun and Steel but you could probably send Klaus or Akutagawa to ease Chuuya’s stress over the situation.

Please, please, please, please-

“Nah,” Chuuya says, shaking his head. “Maybe another night. I’ll go grab some glasses, find a movie?” 

Oh, fuck me.

“I’ll get them,” you say instead, too quickly from the way Chuuya is instantly casting a suspicious look in your direction so you pivot with: “I picked the last movie. It’s your turn.”

“You hate when I pick movies,” Chuuya says with a frown, studying you carefully before letting his eyes trail over to the kitchen. He’s thinking too hard, you realize, stressed, you need to make him stop before he figures out you don’t want him to go in there because once he realizes that, there’s no shot he won’t be rushing over there. “What’s really going on?” 

“Nothing,” you say easily. “I’m in the mood to trash one of your low budget horror movies.”

Chuuya instantly gives you an offended look and you think, for a moment, that you’ve succeeded. “Well, I’m not in the mood to hear you bitch halfway through the movie, so pick a damn movie.”

Chuuya rises to his feet, putting the bottle of wine down on the coffee table and you want to rip your hair out—why is he so fucking stubborn? You reach out to grab his wrist to stop him, teeth grinding together, and when Chuuya looks back at you, you know that he knows.

“What’s in the kitchen?” Chuuya asks, voice low.

“None of your business,” you reply, jaw tight. “Sit down and let me get the glasses.”’

“I don’t fuckin’ believe you,” Chuuya snaps and rips his wrist from your grasp and storms over to the kitchen. 

You race behind him, only able to watch as everything starts to crumble. You try to grab his wrist again but he slips out from your hold. For a scary second, you genuinely debate using your ability on him just to convince him to stop, to make him leave, but you disregard the thought as soon as it passes through your head, horrified with yourself.

“Chuuya, stop,” you say desperately, a last ditch attempt to make him stop, hoping that maybe when he hears how serious you are about this that he might reconsider, but it’s Chuuya, so of course he doesn’t.

You know it’s over when he freezes in the doorframe of your kitchen, staring into the room like he’s seen a ghost. Dreadfully, you come to stand at his side, looking over his shoulder to see what exactly he’s looking at, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.

Dazai sits on the floor, half hiding behind your counter but unable to fully because of his height; his legs are too long to fit behind the counter and his head is peeking above the marble, brown eyes wide as he looks between the two of you. He focuses his attention on Chuuya, who stares at him mutely in disbelief.

Dazai finally says, “Your hat is tackier in person.”

Oh my god.

Chuuya doesn’t even react to the snide comment which you think is testimony to how angry he really is. He drags his gaze from Dazai over to you and you can see the rage swimming in his eyes. You don’t know how to approach this—Chuuya is always unpredictable when he’s angry—so you think maybe you should wait for him to say something first, but that’s also risky because once he’s set off, he’s set off. 

“You lied to me,” Chuuya says, voice low. “I was sitting here feeling guilty and-”

“I didn’t lie to you,” you interrupt, shaking your head, but that only pisses Chuuya off more from the way he shoots a pointed look at Dazai. “I didn’t. I did cut him off, Chuuya. I-”

“He’s sitting on your kitchen floor,” Chuuya’s spits, voice raising as he works himself up. “You let me sit here feeling guilty about this when-”

Chuuya suddenly cuts himself off, eyes widening as he stares at you, and a pit forms in your stomach, realizing he must have just come to another conclusion. Distress begins to pile in your chest because you can’t figure out what to do, frustration because this wasn’t supposed to happen. You want to look over to Dazai but you know it will only serve to piss Chuuya off even more.

“‘Is that what she told you?’” Chuuya whispers Mori’s words from a few weeks ago. “Don’t even tell me that the war with the Inagawa-kai began because of him. You told me they attacked you.”

You grimace, turning your face away and Chuuya lets out a high and reedy laugh, eyes wild with disbelief. You can feel Dazai’s curious eyes on you and you just want to curl in on yourself.

“We went to war with two Yakuza syndicates because of him-”

“We went to war because of what happened with your-” you begin to say, angry at the hypocrisy.

“And she died anyway,” Chuuya shouts, a familiar, eerie red glow beginning to emanate from his hands as he starts to lose control of his ability in his anger. “You couldn’t save her then, what makes you think you can save him now?”

You draw back as if you’d been slapped—you think you might’ve been better off getting slapped than hearing Chuuya say that. You stare at him blankly, watching as he looks over at Dazai, but you can’t bring yourself to follow his gaze.

“It would be more merciful if I just killed him now,” Chuuya says coolly. “Spare him from-”

You only move when he takes a step forward, grabbing his wrist and pressing your forearm hard against his upper chest to shove him into your fridge. Chuuya doesn’t expect you to get physical so his eyes widen as his back hits the fridge, gaze darting back to focus on you. The familiar feeling of the Tainted Sorrow sweeps over your body, coating you in that destructive red glow. 

For a moment, neither of you move.

“We both know you won’t use your ability on me,” you finally say, keeping your voice low. “I’ll fuck up your brain so badly that you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror for weeks if you take another step toward him.”

Chuuya doesn’t budge for a second, the tension in the room rising with each passing second. After a few minutes, he finally turns off his ability, taking in a deep breath as he shakes his head and looks away. You step back and Chuuya sighs as he leans against the fridge, forcing himself to look back at you.

“I did cut him off after we talked… ish,” you tell him and Chuuya gives you a flat look. “I did. I ran into him at the ports. One of the kyodai of the Inagawa-kai showed up, saw me with him. Klaus killed him. We had to act before they found out we drew first blood.”

“Oh my god,” Chuuya complains, pressing his hands to his eyes. “You-I had to use Corruption. The entire northern ward-”

“I know, Chuuya,” you say tightly. “I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I-”

You let out a breath, glancing once at Dazai who’s watching you with an indecipherable expression and then ask Chuuya, “Can we go into the other room?”

Dazai’s head snaps toward you, an offended expression on his face, but you ignore him. “You’re talking about me-” he starts to protest but Chuuya gives him a sharp look that makes Dazai blanch even more, looking to you for support but you look away, missing the way his expression crumbles.

As soon as the two of you are in the other room, Chuuya gives you a hard look, waiting for you to continue.

“I cut him off after what happened at the port and I ran into him again at the event a few weeks ago,” you say quietly. “His professor for one of his classes is a journalist working for the Ivory Eagle, he has three kids—including Dazai—doing his dirty work trying to find proof of the Mori Corporation being a front for the Port Mafia.”

Chuuya stares at you. “What?” he asks blankly.

“Yeah, I know,” you grimace. “Dazai found the proof. He has a video of us from behind the Tokyo City Hall.”

“You’re letting yourself be blackmailed by a college student?” Chuuya demands loudly. You give him a sharp look, but it’s too late, Dazai is already looking into the room with an indecipherable expression on his face, lashes lowering as his gaze falls to the ground. “You’re a fucking mafia executive, are you fucking with me right now?” 

Your eye twitches in frustration, casting one last look in Dazai’s direction, watching the way his brows furrow as he thinks up a storm in that head of his—nothing good, you’re sure, but you can’t do anything about it right now.

“I’m not going to kill him, Chuuya,” you hiss under your breath. “Would you have killed her if she found out?”

Chuuya lets out a heavy breath and looks away, not answering your question but that’s an answer in itself.

“Look,” you continue, glancing at where Dazai had been standing only to realize that he’d walked away. You sigh and lower your voice. “I’m working on something. I just… I need time to figure out how to go about it. I don’t want him in this life either, Chuuya. I’m not that selfish.”

Yes, you are, a distant part of you whispers. Otherwise, you would have handled this as soon as he came to your apartment that first day.

Chuuya shakes his head. “You need to be careful. You have him in our headquarters, in your apartment. Do you know how thin of a line you’re treading? The slightest slip up-”

“I know, Chuuya,” you say, strained. “I know.”

“Figure it out quickly,” Chuuya murmurs. “I’ll do what I can in the meantime to keep the heat off of you. Just… quit fucking around.”

Chuuya gives you a steady look and you know that he knows that you’re using this as an excuse to indulge in Dazai when you shouldn’t be. You can hardly hold his gaze, lashes fluttering as you look down. He reaches out to squeeze your forearm and you turn your head away, trying to figure out what the fuck you’re going to say to Dazai.

“Yeah, I will.”

Dazai pretends like everything is fine.

He’s still sitting cross-legged on your bed when you finally come looking for him, hands in his lap and back straight. You lean against the doorframe, an uncharacteristically soft expression on your face as you look at him—Dazai hates it, because he knows that he’s not going to like whatever you’re about to bring up to him so he decides he needs to evade the conversation in whatever manner possible.

“Did that pipsqueak leave?” Dazai huffs, only finding a bit of consolation in the way your lips curl up into a smile at his insult.

“He did,” you agree, pushing off the doorframe to make your way over to him. Dazai swallows thickly when you take a seat in front of him on the bed. You lean back on your hands, head falling to the side as you observe him. “I didn’t think he was coming over today. We’d just gotten into an argument so things were already tense. I’m sorry that it blew up on you like that.”

Dazai doesn’t want to talk about this, so instead, he smiles and says, “It’s fine. Do you want to watch a movie?” 

Your brow furrows at the way he dismisses your comment—god, he doesn’t want to talk about this. He knows where it’s going to lead, he knows you’re only doing this because of the blackmail and he knew from day one that it wasn’t going to work forever but he’d hoped maybe he’d be able to woo you before then, make you want him for him, want him enough to decide he’s worth the risk. He should’ve known better—he really should have—but he’s not ready to let go just yet.

So, before you can bring it back up again, Dazai forces the smile on his face to come across a little more genuine as he tilts his head and hums, “I found a good horror movie. I’m stealing your pillow to hide behind while we watch.”

Please.

He knows you can see through the sweet smile and honeyed words but he begs you to just pretend you don’t one last time. After what feels like an eternity, you finally sigh, gaze dropping to your lap for a second before you look back up at him and say, “You’re not taking my pillow.”

Dazai doesn’t have to force a smile now, lighting up as he waves your pillow in the air and sings, “Too late!” before darting off the bed and into the other room.

“Dazai!” you call after him loudly and he tosses a smile over his shoulder before disappearing into the other room. He can hear you chasing after him and though his chest does feel a bit lighter, he can’t push away the cold, empty feeling that’s slowly starting to consume him.

[bamsara]

I dont know if it was intentional but I love that Narinder when he sees Lamb throwing up he turns gentle and pushes their wool and ears back so they dont get stained with vomit and for some reason it reminded me of how when Nari was throwing up too after the nightmare he had when they were on route to fight Leshy, Lambert helped him with camellias for the nausea.

Ahh, parallels. I think.

IM SO GLAD YOU POINTED THAT OUT allow me to ramble for just a moment.

Narinder was trapped in the Afterlife for over 1000 years, with little social skills and plagued by wishing for vengeance and his only company being two kittens who become disciples under his rule. He has terrible social skills, if not lacking them entirely.

(I would argue that Aym and Baal also have horrific nonexistent social skills, so those three cat's can't really help each other communicate properly to anyone else outside themselves.)

It can be argued that since The One Who Waits had other vessels to pass time and try to kill /annoy his siblings before the prophesized Lamb arrival, that he would have developed them a little bit more, but I would argue that the power balance would have been oodles more severe since the vessels weren't the promised one. He didn't need them, so if they no longer were of service or disobeyed him, he got rid of them. Whether just sending them out or killing them, any how.

Lamb, however, knows they are the last Lamb, the prophesized liberator of The One Who Waits, and therefore his only option. They knew that they were his only reasonable way out of there (whether they asked for it or not) so they were oodles more comfortable than how a professional relationship would have been.

So they asked questions, bothered him, played and ran around him. Complained and vented to him. Yapped and yapped. What is he gonna do? Kill them? Find a new vessel? He can't. "You're as trapped into this prophecy as much as I am, so let's be friends"

Example parts from Chapter 3:

The power balance equalizes because Lamb did not see his presence a God, but rather a fellow prisoner and victim of fate. Rude and demanding, but in the same chains as they were. 'My lord' was simply formalities at first.

This puts Narinder / The One Who Waits in social situations he hasn't been in (or hardly been in) in over a thousand years, and frankly, he had no idea how to navigate them:

Example from Chapter 5:

The God of Death has not needed to comfort or 'be there' for someone in a long, long time. The Lamb's presence is what forces him to try, even if his first attempt aren't perfect. So in that same chapter, he'll ask them a question to distract them. Conversation. Like how they do it.

While I won't post a screenshot of everytime this happens in written format (not including the dreams/memories/flashbacks that haven't been posted yet)-

The One Who Waits is pushed outside of his bubble when it comes to socializing in a way that isn't just 'God-to-Lowly-Vessal' format. He has to talk to them like a person, because he's being talked to like a person, not a god on a pedestal.

Obviously after the final battle and betrayal (to both of them, otherwise known as the Grand Miscommunication) this means nothing for a while as tempers are still high and feelings are hurt. But overtime, this returns, and can show in small ways (ways that may not seem like comfort but is certainly an attempt) like just in Chapter 18:

Trying to bring them an 'offering' (breakfast) mirroring other times the Lamb has done the same for him:

Crudely offering to replace something they are upset at losing/later offering reassurance abet in a curt way:

And what you mentioned: earlier when the Lamb is throwing up, narration shows they're having trouble with keeping their wool, cloak, bell, ect all back at the same time. He can see that. He has a mental boiling pot explosion over the fact that helping them is even a want that he has after the denial crisis he's experiencing where the only answer a minute ago seemed like he needed to kill them, and he chose comfort.

It is intentional. Narinder is learning how to show care, and allowing himself to show care. Slowly, and not perfect, but learning.

[primalsouls]

your eyes

'malipo' kinich x m!reader

I don't care how long it takes As long as I'm with you I've got a smile on my face

theme: general, fluff

warning: none, i think, maybe a bit ooc?

summary: (name) has been crushing on a certain saurian hunter for a while already and wayna was getting tired of just watching him stare at the hunter with loving eyes with no plans of making a confession. just how long until kinich notices?

notes: got some inspiration lol i finally got kinich a couple of nights ago xD I was so happy, so I started writing this fic for him lol hope you like it! reblog & comments, any feedback is appreciated!

(colored) eyes stared at the back of a certain saurian hunter. he was talking to one of the tribe’s elders. (name) sighed. a longing gaze watching the dendro user walk away with a small bag of mora in his hands, his annoying companion yapping away beside him about any little trait he could use to berate the other. with kinich out of sight, (name) returned to sorting through a box full of gems but another figure blocked his way, startling the young seller.

“you keep staring at him like that, he’ll feel holes burning in the back of his head.” joked the tribe's chief Wayna, a playful smirk displayed on his features. (name)’s cheeks burned, a pinkish hue decorating across them. “c’mon, when are you going to tell him? you’ve been pinning him since the day you came from Inazuma.” wayna added with a tilt of his head and his arms crossed firmly over his chest. (name) glared at him lightly, smacking the chief’s arm while gesturing to shush. 

“shut up! you can’t say that aloud.” (name) huffed, walking over to the chief to return to his latest shipment. part of him regretted telling wayna about his secret crush on the dendro hunter. well, more like the older man found out within the first few weeks after (name) arrived in huitztlan and got rescued by kinich and the self-centered dragonlord k'uhul ajaw in a near-death attack by some of the wild saurians. Wayna, of course, teased the inazuman merchant for a while about his little secret crush on the hunter after promising not to spill it out to anyone else, especially on kinich, or worse, ajaw. but wayna was getting a little tired of the electro user just staring at the guy whenever he was around. it had been almost half a year since (name) came to natlan. he was surprised kinich didn’t sense those yearning glances… yet. maybe he already noticed but doesn’t bother looking into it. maybe he didn’t. wayna was curious now. 

wayna sighed, shaking his head. “young people these days.” he said, looking over the seller roamed through his shipment. “you two aren’t staying any younger. you should confess, (name).”

“and for what? to get rejected? get made fun of and berated by the oh-so-great dragonlord k’uhul ajaw?” (name) said through gritted teeth, annoyance sipping into his tone. “i’ve rather died in the night kingdom than confess my feelings to kinich.” wayna winced at the last part of (name)’s statement. not wanting to get electrocuted, wayna simply patted (name)’s head and walked away to attend to other matters in the tribe. the merchant clicked his tongue before moving around his little shop to display the new various gems he received from kirara. as he pulled out another small box with more gems stored inside it, (name) noticed a pretty gem that had a familiar color of a familiar pair of eyes. oh, great. now kinich was beginning to affect his line of work. maybe he should confess… but how? no, maybe he shouldn’t. his feelings are only going to get hurt and he would have no choice but to move back to inazuma. archons, his mind tends to be exaggerating. 

(name) shook his head. maybe next time. when he has enough courage to confess his pining feelings. 

the gem matching kinich’s eyes was too pretty. (name) had no choice but to make it into a bracelet. it looked beautiful. just like kinich. ugh. he just can’t get rid of him. The saurian hunter kept plaguing his mind every day and night. his heart raced at just the mention of his name. (name) frowned. he put the bracelet away in his pockets as he walked down the dirt path leading to the scions of the canopy. he was still a long way from home. (name) had a delivery he needed to do personally, to make the gems the customer asked for delivered safely and he did so by delivering them himself. he should have just hired kirara. it was a long walk. too long. 

“you pathetic, lizard-brain worm! you dared tried to defy the almighty dragonlord k’uhul ajaw!? you truly dared to invite the wrath of the almighty dragonlord k’uhul ajaw, a sovereign of the nation of flames!”

(name) paused. he recognized that voice. that aggravating voice. even from this distance, he could feel it getting under his skin. but if ajaw was nearby… does that mean he was too?

biting his lower lip back, (name) debated eavesdropping into their conversation. he shouldn’t but… archons, he sounded like a creep thinking this, he wanted to see kinich. it had been almost a week since he last saw him. it was just a little glance. that’s all. 

quietly walking over behind a tree, (name) peeked over the trunk. ah, there he was. standing tall with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed as he let ajaw talk his ears off. but it wasn’t just him there. the legendary traveler and their companion paimon were there, too. (name) honestly didn’t pay attention to the other three. His longing gaze was set on the dark-haired dendro user. 

wow. how can a human being like him be so pretty and strong-willed?

(name) sighed with a heavy heart and blinked. but when he looked over to where kinich stood, said hunter was gone. oh, no. the other three were still arguing with one another, so where had kinich gone to?

“i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice.” a voice spoke lowly behind him. (name) let out a small, frightened shout at the sudden presence of kinich behind him. his eyes widened. his face flushed brightly. his words quickly registered into his mind before shaking his hands in defend. 

“wha-wha-what are you ta-talking about?” (name) cursed mentally for his nervous stutter, his (colored) eyes looked anywhere but at the saurian hunter. 

“that longing look in your eyes… noticed it for a while now.” kinich answered, uncrossing his arms as he took a step closer to (name), who instead took a step behind. and they continued for a bit until his back met the tree, kinich never breaking eye contact. 

(name)’s brows furrowed, his anxious gaze staring down at the ground beside him. a hand went into his pocket where the bracelet was, trying to see comfort from it. 

getting no response back, kinich tilted his head as he leaned his face closer to (name). he was a few inches taller than him, finding the little height difference endearing. “started noticing it after the first month you stayed in the canopy. the way you have this yearning look in your eyes. they’re always set on me. you wouldn’t even flinch whenever i caught your stare.” oh, no. (name) inwardly groaned. he must have zoned out as he stared openly at the claymore wielder. the merchant wanted to dig a hole and died in it out of embarrassment. so kinich knew for half a year. how humiliating. 

“i-i didn’t mean to… i’m sorry. i just, um.. I…” (name) was at a loss for words. he was sure his face was as red as those dendrobiums that appeared around the shipwrecks in nazuichi beach. his heart beat so fast, he was afraid it was going to burst out of his chest. part of him hoped so to avoid this worst-case scenario. 

kinich shook his head at the unfinished apology. “there’s no need to say that.” he started, his own gaze now looking at the tree behind (name)’s back. “i’ve…been having the same longing look, too… towards you. for a while now.” kinich said, pulling himself together to look into (name)’s eyes, after said seller found the courage to do so too. he stared down at the other with a small intense look in his eyes before shifting his gaze back towards the trio he left behind. “i’m not busy right now. ajaw is busy with a couple of behavioral teachers right now, so… would you like to take a walk back to the canopy?” kinich offered his arm towards (name). The electro user stared at him in shock before smiling timidly, taking his arm in his own. 

“that will be lovely.” (name) had a feeling wayna would be too surprised the moment they arrived at the tribe. his smile grew a bit, already feeling the teasing miles away. at the very least, things turned out in a good light, unlike what his overthinking mind had clouded inside his head. (name) was happy with this outcome.

[luveline]

wondering what zombie!au Steve might try to do for a sappy romantic surprise.. I feel like he’d get really excited about planning something intimate/small but really meaningful and tooth-rotting sweet.. maybe it’s for a birthday? or just for a spot of cheer?

Before the apocalypse, Steve was desperate to be loved. None of his girlfriends ever seemed that interested in more than sex or popularity, and if they were, they’d realise they wanted more than Steve soon after. He spent years wishing somebody would look at him and find exactly what they wanted. 

And you do. 

You look at him like he’s your everything (when you aren’t complaining, that is). “I’m gonna have to shave you myself,” you say, climbing into his lap, your hand tipping his head back less gently than you mean to, he’s sure. “That’s a wound.” 

“It’s a scratch. It’ll be fine tomorrow.” 

He grabs your waist, surprised but certainly not unhappy with your sudden presence. You’re straddling him. “Does it hurt?” You rub the area surrounding his raw skin. “Does that hurt?” 

“Not really.” He runs his hands up and down your sides. “What’s up?” 

You shrug. He leans back against the headboard as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. “We finally have a bed again.” 

He pulls you in for a hug. “Yeah?” 

“It’s so nice. I missed this.” 

“I missed this too. Clean sheets, a door that locks…” 

You understand what he’s hinting at. He isn’t subtle, but he’s also in no rush, and you know that too. “Maybe you can give me a massage later,” you murmur. “We still have some of that nice lotion.” 

He loves that, the thought of you on your front as his hands push up your shoulders, your skin and his palms warmed by friction. “What about me?” he jokes, hands sliding up your back, tracing the path he’ll make later on. 

“You can have one too,” you say, your face dropping down to his neck, where you kiss him mildly, like you’re thinking of something else. 

Steve wants to give the gift to you before he forgets it. You can be a very distracting person, not just because he’d like to encourage your lips to his for a good kiss, or because you’re the perfect partner for hugging under the covers. Maybe it’s because he loves talking to you, about everything and anything at all.

“Hey, so.” He encourages your head back, his hand on the nape of your neck. “I have something for you.” 

“Do I have to get off of you?” you ask. 

“No, you can stay there.” He reaches into his pocket. 

“Wait, you’re smiling. Are you that excited to give it to me?” 

“Pretty excited.” 

You caress the inside of his elbow. 

It’s probably why you’re so easy to love. Not that you love him, but your propensity for sweetness, and the way you show your own affection. If he didn’t need both hands for this next part he’d twine your fingers together and hold yours all night long. 

He pulls a small plastic bag from his pocket to show you the contents, then changes his mind and opens the bag to take it out instead. “I know you were pretty happy that I found your necklace in my jacket, but I got it for you such a long time ago, I’m not saying you shouldn’t keep it. You should keep it.” 

“I don’t think I could get rid of it,” you say, honest and curious. “You gave it to me to make me feel better. Do you remember?” 

“Yeah, I remember. You had a frown like no one’s business for days.” He finds the charm and lays it over his hand. The chain is slightly tangled, but he can fix that. “There wasn’t a box, but. I don’t know, it reminded me of us, and you need an upgrade, I think I should ask you to get married–”

You smile in surprise, “What?” 

“But I can’t find a ring. So I have to promise to get you one, and you can have this for the interim.” It’s an incredible skinny chain joined by two hearts. Steve knows it’s cheesy, it’s insanely corny, whatever, he’s smiling like a loon. “I figure it’s me and you,” he says, putting it in your open palm. “Linked together.” 

Your gaze moves between him and the necklace slowly. “You want to marry me?” 

Steve curls your hand closed over the necklace. Gentle, he takes your face into both hands. “I get that I haven’t been the best boyfriend, but you can’t really think I don’t want that, right?” 

He’s really asking, but you don’t answer.

“I would’ve married you a long, long time ago, if things were different,” he says, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “I would’ve asked,” he corrects softly, before stealing another kiss. 

You press your screwed up fist to his chest as you kiss him back. 

“Who says we have to have rings?” you mumble. 

The idea of calling you his wife is insanity. It trips him up, flips his heart, but he thinks you deserve the real thing. As real as it can get, considering. 

“I’m gonna keep looking,” Steve says. 

The way your eyes soften as he rubs your cheek sets everything he’s saying to you in stone. Who else could he ever want to be looking at him like this beside you? How lucky he is that you’d bother. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

Your face tilts down and he drops one hand, moving the other to just under your jaw, his pinky and marriage finger sewn behind your ear, middle and index on your cheek. He watches you and you turn your gift in your palm, waiting for you to lift your head.

“Thank you,” you say again. “Will you put it on me?” 

Steve strings it around your neck and clasps it at your chest before twisting it to sit properly. The new necklace is a bit shorter than your simple diamond. You could wear both without issue. 

You look down at them but can’t quite see them. “Does it look good?” 

“Yeah. Looks beautiful.” 

He wraps his arms around you again and looks up in to your face, chests coming together as he straightens his back and the gap between you closes just enough. You look down at him, your smile a mirror of his. Steve thinks being as in love with you as he is makes for its own kind of gift. Much better than a necklace, but he’ll keep trying to bridge the gap. 

He forgets everything else when you’re together. Everything. 

His face falls into your chest and collar against your necklaces. You press your face to his hair and cuddle him nicely. 

“Love you,” you both whisper at the same time. 

Your laugh tickles his scalp, warm breath in his hair. 

[onekindredspirit]

Family Recipes - *Plum Upside Down Cake* I had a message from my older brother. "Hey Bro, How's it going? I'd enjoy a catch up soon." It was 6pm. I decided to call him the next day. I knew by now he would be drunk and I hate to see any Uber Sapien lower themselves that way, as if a sound mind had no value at all. When I was a child Plum Upside Down Cake was baked with peaches, and for children, that is the perfect topping. But we grow up. The transition from peaches to plums happened around the same time I stopped flinching whenever I heard my childhood name. Preheat your oven to 180 Celsius (350 F). Take a 20 cm (8 inch) circular baking tin and in that melt 4 tablespoons of butter. Once melted blend in 1/2 to 3/4 cup of brown sugar. The aim is to incorporate all the butter resulting in a smooth, not stiff base. Spread evenly in the bottom of the pan. Lay canned plum halves over the entire butter and brown sugar mix. In a separate bowl cream together 1/4 cup butter, 1/2 cup white sugar and 1/4 teaspoon of vanilla essence. Add 1 unbeaten egg and beat until the mix is light and fluffy. Add 1 cup flour and 1 and 1/2 tsp baking powder (blended) alternating with 3/8 cup of milk. Beat lightly and pour over the plum halves. Bake. Once the top of your batter begins to brown, cover loosely with tinfoil for the remaining time. Bake until your knife comes out clean. Perhaps 30 to 45 minutes. I called my brother the next day but later than I had hoped for and by 3pm he was already slurring drunk. Me: How's it going? Older Brother: Well, I've decided. Me: What have you decided? Older Brother: I've decided to drink myself to death. Me: Why would you do that? Of course I knew the answer. I would have killed myself too, long ago, if I had been him but I'm not and he wouldn't. Older Brother: I've got nothing to live for ... I don't need a detailed list of all the people who have deserted him to save themselves. Or the employers who found ways to get rid of him. Nor the social clubs that banned him for life or his children who don't want to know him. My brother has an anti-social personality disorder. I spent the first 14 years of my life under the rule of this violent and remorseless narcissist. In my 14th year, and already 7 years into what would turn out to be a 25 year stretch of PTSD, my own sense of personal survival finally kicked in. Under threat of another violent encounter I drew my 20 cm hunting knife and I went for him. The kitchens here on Rikers Island are considered the best in the American penal system and I am proud to be speaking to you from the cake division. Okay, I'm not on Rikers Island but perhaps somewhere in a parallel universe I am. But in this timeline, my brother ran and locked himself in the bathroom and that was the last time he threatened me. Recipes evolve. So do people and I consider myself lucky to have a personal evolution. I no longer flinch when I hear my childhood name and I bake cakes with plums instead of peaches. But some people never evolve, like my brother, trapped for an eternity in the hell of a malignant self. I didn't speak to him for 20 years but as Tom Ripley said in the movie Ripley's Game "... we are constantly being born," So, I will call my brother again when I know he'll be sober. I'll suggest we have lunch together and I'll make sure that, for an hour or two at least, he believes he is human and that he is loved. Take your cake straight from the oven, lay a large platter over the top and invert. Carefully lift the baking tin off to reveal the glory of your Plum Upside Down Cake. Let it cool a bit but don't wait too long. Now is the time to decide. Do you want a piece of the cake? Well then, just draw your blade and take it. One Kindred Spirit

[guppybibi]

Tattoo artist!Johnny who had already met you a year ago when you made an impulsive decision of getting a tattoo with your current boyfriend's name.

This was nothing new for Johnny having seen this numerous times before, in both men and women, and he knows they'll come crawling back to get them covered up after a nasty breakup. It's been a running game in the shop, all of the workers betting their money on how long it'll take before the customer comes back to cover up the tattoo.

Nothing new, right? Then why was Johnny so surprised when he saw you walk into the shop, the door chimes ringing when you swing the door open to reveal you. Eyes still red and puffy while you sniffled, not doing a very good job on hiding the fact you had been crying. His coworkers shot him a knowing look, recalling the bet from last year.

"Pretty thing, ain't she?" One of Johnny's coworkers commented, looking at the back of your figure as you stepped out of the shop with a huge grin on your face. Probably excited to show the tattoo of your boyfriend's name to him.

"Yeah, too bad she's taken. Lucky man better be treatin' her right." Johnny remarks, noticing the look he was given. "Not for long, I bet. I'm giving them a year max." Johnny blinks once, then again. "Fine, I'm giving them five years." Of course, his coworker was pretty shocked from that. Out of all the people they've bet on, this was probably the longest bet Johnny had ever put.

"Seriously? Don't ya think that's too long?" His coworker asks skeptically, raising a brow at Johnny. "Aye, the gal is lovely. If her boyfriend drops her then that's like committing a war crime." Well, his coworker couldn't really disagree with him on that.

Johnny shoots his coworker a glare that simply said he had more important matters to attend to. Luckily, Johnny was a charmer so cooing a birdie like you into comfort shouldn't be that hard, right?

I mean, it's a break up, not exactly the end of the world here. Plus, you're a gorgeous gal, plenty of fish out there you could probably catch in less than an hour.

"Morning, lass! Welcome back, I see that you've got a little problem, huh?" He points out, seeing you nod subtly. "Alright, I'm assuming it's a cover up for the tattoo you got done a year ago?"

He clearly wasn't surprised when you nodded, having seen this too many times before. He wrote down some stuff, not caring about the paperwork much..before leading you further into the parlor.

The two of you discussed how you wanted the previous tattoo to get covered up, Johnny nudging in to suggest some stylistic choices a few times, which you gladly didn't mind.

Then began the process once you agreed with the design choice, you wanted to get this over with. To remove a past mistake from your life.

Johnny cleansed your skin, disinfecting it with a cold gel. He could see you squirming and struggling not to make a sound. He also does notice another tattoo covered up above your previous tattoo, curiosity swirling around in his mind now.

He tried hushing it, it wasn't any of his business. He's here to do his job, nothing else.

He was quiet for most of the process, aside from some rather awkward small talk about the weather and a few details of what happened between you and your boyfriend. Not that it helped, it really just made Johnny even more curious.

And finally, after who knows how long, the tattoo was covered up now! You seemed to have gotten rid of the nerves from earlier, looking a lot more calmer now.

"Alright, lass. I'm sure y'know how the caring process goes so I'll leave it up to ye." He said, cleaning up all his materials in a snap. He gives in to his curiosity, finding the courage in him to ask you about the other covered up tattoo.

"Uh..before you go lass, mind if I ask ye somethin'? It's about the other tattoo you got 'ere.." You immediately knew which one he was referring to, face reddening in embarrassment as you recalled the immature decision..

"Aah..sure, go ahead." You replied awkwardly, a sheepish smile gracing your face. "Thanks, lass. Mind if ye tell me what was written on there? I- I just noticed that the way it was covered up. The artist did a great job, I'm jealous."

Yeah okay he was just making excuses to get things flowing..never mind that.

"Oo..oh! I don't mind at all, don't worry. That's all in the past..can't really reverse it, you know? It was my ex-boyfriend's name." You answer, shrugging it off. Seems like you were the type of gal to move on from a relationship quick.

"I see, glad you were willing to share that. I wonder if I know who he is." He chuckles, evidently not expecting you to actually tell him who it was. Sure, Johnny was the type to encourage people to loosen up and get comfortable. But..maybe not to this extent.

"His name was Simon, Simon Riley—" And practically everything you said after that was unheard of.

Looks like Johnny needs to pay Simon a visit at the pub tonight.

[mirrorball-leclerc]

track four - the men start wars yet troy hates helen

series masterlist

SPAIN 2023

liked by alex_albon, louieee, francesca.cgomes and others

ines_sainz we are back in the motherland 🇪🇸

view all comments

user01 YOU'RE A BARCA FAN??

user02 she was a madridista by association not choice ines_sainz força barça!!! user01 fernando was found screaming and crying in a corner somewhere logansargeant you should see them on game days...it's way too intense

jensonbutton is that why you texted me, 'fernando's going to disown me' or was that over something else?

fernandoalo_oficial she is dramatic, i would not disown her. i am not some people user03 OH SHIT! HE WENT THERE!! ines_sainz no, that was because [redacted] almost set the kitchen on fire fernandoalo_ofical OTRA VEZ?? SAQUEN LO DE MI COCINA!! [again? get him out of my kitchen]

user04 see, part of me wants to believe that she's actually dating charles or oscar but neither of them dress that way. so it can't be them.

user05 hear me out, she dresses them so people won't suspect a thing. user04 that's very possible

charles_leclerc that explains the scream i heard from his drivers room five minutes ago when lando ran in there.

ines_sainz fucking snitch. this is why he has no wins louieee someone get this girl a pr manager maxverstappen1 no, please don't i'm loving this.

pedri paddock passes🙏??

ines_sainz barca game tickets for me and a few others?? pedri do i finally get to meet the boyfriend?? user06 SINCE WHEN ARE THESE TWO FRIENDS?? pedri honestly, i don't know but i can't get rid of her anymore? ines_sainz fuck you, forget about the paddock passes pedri NO AMIGA PERDONAME!! [no friend forgive me!!]

fernandoalo_oficial eres una traicionera [you're a traitor]

ines_sainz dad, you knew this about me when you adopted me? fernandoalo_oficial yes, but i chose to ignore that when it wasn't public information.

patriciooward my ahijada looks so cute in her outfit [goddaughter]

ines_sainz yes, [redacted] squealed when he saw her in that alex_albon thank you for blackmail infromation pierregasly he's not special, kika squealed too. alex_albon this is a grown man georgerussell63 is he grown?? logansargeant poor him catching strays when he can't defend himself

user07 INÉS SAINZ IS A CULER??

ines_sainz AND PROUD OF IT!!

user08 hear me out, she's dating pedri and is trying to trick all of us by telling us it's charles and oscar.

user05 BOOO!! THIS GUY SUCKS!! user08 PEDRI'S THE SAME AGE AS HER!! IT WOULD MAKE SENSE?? user01 just say you don't want us to have a throuple in formula 1 and move on.

ines_sainz posted new stories

shoutout to the fan that gave me these socks. they are my newest prized possession track walks with jb and father nando this is the face of a man who i just told who i invited to the race tomorrow

georgerussell replied to your story

georgerussell WHERE DID YOU GET THOSE SOCKS?? I NEED SOME!! ines_sainz george, a fan gave them to me, i think they made them. georgerussell boo!! i want some

pedri replied to your story

pedri is he actually mad? ines_sainz i think he's disappointed i'm a culer and not a madridista pedri tell your boyfriend i can't wait to meet him ines_sainz boyfriends* pedri perdoname, que? ines_sainz would you look at the time, i have to go walk my gold fish

ines_sainz posted new stories

cheerios are all back together again!! fredrickvestiofficial liamlawson30 logansargeant theopouchaire oscarpiastri not pictured is arthur_leclerc because he as fighting with charles over which kart he wanted oscar's learned some moves from track terror leclerc 💞💞

liked by pedri, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and others

ines_alonso new name, who dis?

jokes aside, papá, thanks for showing me what unconditional fatherly love was. no one's ever loved me (familially) the way you have. i haven't stopped crying since i got the news, [redacted] can attest to that. it means the world to me that we now, officially, get to be father and daughter after so many years of us joking about it. te quiero mucho papá 🩷🥹

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial

user has limited comments

aussiegrit he called me crying when he got the news

jensonbutton you have to clarify that he demanded a groupcall and proceeded to tell us through tears. ines_alonso wait, who else was involved? lewishamilton think the group chat you created ines_alonso he loves me that's why 🥹 fernandoalo_oficial yes, the whole world now knows that i love my kid

lancestroll congrats! he hasn't stopped talking about this for weeks.

ines_alonso i hope you people know i'm going to keep crying if you keep saying things like this lancestroll it's true, i think everyone on the team knew how excited he was to be your dad, officially that is.

louieee oh baby, i'm so glad you finally have someone who loves you the way a father should love his child. i'm actually crying for you. things are just starting to look up for you 🩷🩷

ines_alonso lou, i'm literally sobbing. a big thank you to you for sticking by my side through this entire mess and for always thinking i was capable of being loved 🩷🩷 louieee you've always been capable of being loved, it's not your fault they have the emotional range of a teaspoon and never knew how to appreciate you.

charles_leclerc félicitations! i know you've waited for this day for a long time

ines_alonso i'm still crying charles, please stop..i'm going to become dehydrated soon. charles_leclerc please drink water

patriciooward VAMOS!! AL FIN!!

ines_alonso MY BROTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER (OFFICIAL) patricooward wait, does this mean i have to give [redacted] a shovel talk?? ines_alonso no. max, daniel, and fernando already did that patriciooward thank god. i am not cut out for that.

mickschumacher welcome to the world champion's children club inés!!

ines_alonso who else is in the club? mickschumacher me, you, nico (reluctant) and any other world champion children

oscarpiastri finally, just let out a huge sigh of relief

ines_alonso thanks osc

maxverstappen1 oh thank god, it's about fucking time this happened. can he adopt me next?

ines_alonso back off!! i just got him, get your own dad. i heard kimi is taking applications, but you might have to fight osc

alex_albon WAR IS OVER! SHE'S FREE!!

lilymhe we can throw a party for them alex_albon that might be one of the best ideas you've ever had

georgerussell63 the sigh i swear i just heard nico let out

lewishamilton 🤨 what are you doing with nico?? georgerussell63 mind ya business

pedri felicitaciones!! al fin tienes un papá que te aprecia! [congratulations!! you finally have a dad who appreciates you]

ines_alonso por favor, parale, no puedo llorar más. [please, stop, i can't cry anymore] pedri eso es una mentira, siempre estás llorando [that's a lie, you're always crying]

fcbarcelona felicitaciones a ti y a tu nuevo papa!!

ines_alonso the scream i just scrumpt charles_leclerc i can confirm that oscarpiastri i can also confirm that

sabrinacarpenter congratulations you beautiful girl 💝

ines_alonso holy shit- oscarpiastri i can't take much more screaming charles_leclerc neither can i. please stop. sabrinacarpenter i'm sorry??

AUSTRIA 2023

SPA 2023

liked by louieee, isahernaez, judebellingham and others

ines_alonso 🌊☀️

view all comments

ines_alonso oops, sorry *shared one last name

user08 STOP! INÉS YOU CAN'T DO THIS!! user09 ICON!! BEING ICONIC RUNS IN THE ALONSO FAMILY LADIES AND GENTLEBITCHES!!

user10 she's so family jewels coded

louieee i would say i'm sorry but i'm not and the people deserved to know the truth 🩷

ines_alonso speak your truth king!! maxverstappen1 if you didn't say something, i would've and trust me i would've been a lot less nice alex_albon trust us, we're aware

user11 i don't know what i find more shocking that isa is in her likes or that jude bellingham is

user12 a footballer for real madrid in her likes after the barca post is fucking funny user13 i feel like we're forgetting that she's probably close with isa, she told her about carlos' alleged (confirmed but i don't want the sainz family to sue me for defamation) cheating

user14 the pictures 😃🩷 vs the lyrics 💔💔

mickschumacher i rate your first scandal as an alonso a solid 6/10

ines_alonso i definitely could've topped crashgate but dad said no fernandoalo_ofical i can only handle so much from you and [redacted]. if he sets my kitchen on fire one more time i'm going to ban him for a few months.

logansargeant hey, who got you smiling like that?

ines_alonso your mom logansargeant i hate you

maxverstappen1 a not so kind reminder to judebellingham she's a taken woman. not by me but i'll defend their honor

danielricciardo just say you think of her as a little sister and move on dude maxverstappen1 shut your mouth ricciardo ines_alonso it's okay i already know he loves me maxverstappen1 debatable

isahernaez que lindura, estás brillando inés

ines_alonso isa!! te extraño 🩷 isahernaez igualmente pequeña 💞 user15 oh i bet c*rlos s*inz just shit himself

liamlawson30 do you think he wakes up in a cold sweat whenever you post?

ines_alonso god i hope he does jensonbutton it's what he deserves, xoxo ines_alonso what is your ass doing here? go take care of your children?? jensonbutton you are my child??

user16 YES BABE!! CALL OUT YOUR SHITTY FAMILY!!! SERVE THAT CUNTLONSO!!!

user17 cuntlonso?? is that what we're calling them now?? user18 kinda matches them because they serve cunt!!

patriciooward when you said i'm so marina & the diamonds coded this is not the song i had in mind

ines_alonso what other song could you possibly think of?? patriciooward bubblegum bitch? primadonna? how to be a heartbreaker?? anything but this?? maxverstappen1 she's so matilda coded, according to twitter logansargeant MATILDA?? BY HARRY STYLES?? maxverstappen1 i don't fucking know who sings it. ines_alonso it's okay max, we can both be family line coded patricooward STOP IT!! GET SOME HELP!!! oscarpiastri THERAPY!! BOTH OF YOU!! NOW!! maxverstappen1 therapy is a hoax

user18 racing is a serious sport they said. our drivers are so serious they said. the said drivers are arguing over what song is them coded

user19 and they're all depressing..FIA get them some therapy we beg. user20 but for the record max is so seven coded and inés is so matilda coded user18 STOP MAKING ME SAD?? user21 and charles is so mirrorball coded user22 alex is definitely this is me trying coded user23 logan is also this is me trying coded user18 YOU PEOPLE JUST MADE IT WORSE?! STOP IT!! user23 but is so fun to share our pain with others??

¡taglist!

@minmira95 // @lesliiieeeee // @vroomvroommuppett // @prongsvault // @justtprachisblog // @scuderiadevils // @cataf1 // @chezmardybum // @formulaal // @lilsiz // @norstappenvibes // @ironspdy // @nikfigueiredo @hinamesgigantica // @niniluvsainz // @matchaverse // @fakeikeastore // @theseus-jpg // @six-call // @81folklore // @emppusofi // @luvsforme // @nichmeddar // @loloekie // @luvpedro // @donttouchthegnote // @nothaqks // @inferiusreggie // @mochimommy2002 // @rach3164 // @clove08 // @clove0 // @lillysbigwilly // @jenxjar // @blupblupfish // @thereadinggremlin05 // @meowiarty // @magical-spit // @camdensreg // @laneyspaulding19 // @ocyeanicc // @yelenasloverrrrr // @percervall // @blushmimi // @spilled-coffee-cup // @michelleyw81 // @greantii // @ietss

¡not taggable!

@ashlovestoread1411 // @books-thingys-andstuff // @nothanqks // @yeanoskrrt // @ale-522 // @aandreea_2005 // @Katness1 // @mgmoore // @Scott-McCall-could-lift-mjolnir // @xxx-betty // @ririyulife // @landonorizzz // @moldyshorts1997 // @itstimeforutogo // @yar16 // @em-andemm // @killjoycra

¡leclerc-s speaks!

note: i know next to nothing about soccer or football, whichever you prefer, but i do know enough to know that barca and real madrid have a rivalry. so i decided for shits and giggles to make her a barca fan. i love giving my female ocs so much power because it's what women deserve!!! anyways, got caught lacking by the 30 image limit. i could've written a bit more but it was cut short. perhaps i should stop rambling when it's not necessary but i can't help myself. i debated on whether or i should've had inés adopted by fernando but i decided that would be the ultimate fuck you so i did it.

¡disclaimer!

this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[dragonsfictavern]

Brighter Than The Sun

Astarion x gn!Reader

a/n: I have no idea if this was a prompt I saw somewhere or if this was completely out of my brain, the idea was from months ago and I finally got around to writing it.

summary: With the parasite no longer in your brains, Astarion can no longer go into the sun. You try everything you can think of to help him experience the same heat but with no luck. Until you think to use yourself as a means for Astarion to feel the suns warmth once more.

word count: 1.7k

From the shadows he watches you, his red eyes almost gleaming and noticeable through the darkness. He stands behind the door, watching you, waiting for you… He needs you and yet he knows you need to stay away, if only for a little while longer. Long enough to get what he wants.

Astarion stands behind the door of the home you two share together in Baldur's Gate. With the parasite long gone and his ascension a trickle of a memory, Astarion has long since been unable to walk in the sun. It spurns him once more as if his mask had been unveiled and even the sun could see what he truly was. While on the other hand, darkness has greeted him back like an old friend and he remains cursing it.

More than anything he yearns to once more see the color in the world, to feel its warmth on his cold skin. But even after years of searching, he feels as though you two aren’t any closer to finding a cure, from ridding him of the curse forced upon him so long ago. Even so, his mind stays focused on the task and it touches him deeply that it remains in yours as well.

Which is what has brought along today’s events. When reality had first set in, Astarion couldn’t ever explain the despair he felt toward never being able to feel the sun’s warmth again. But he didn’t have to explain. He knew you understood, he knew you saw him for all he was. You have for probably much longer than he gave you credit for. Always the one to try and fix things, Astarion wasn’t surprised when you tried thinking of clever ways he’d be able to feel the sunlight again. You had tried creating the hottest of fires and yet it didn’t feel the same. Nothing ever felt the same. Astarion had given up and urged you to do the same. He should’ve known you well enough by now to know that wasn’t something you were capable of.

So this morning when you began guiding him toward the door, Astarion briefly questioned if he was being led to his demise. If you had finally gotten tired of him and decided to end it all. Of course you hadn’t. Wouldn’t. Who’d ever get tired of him, after all… He only resisted briefly until you ended up explaining your entire plan to him. To have you stand in the sun and then shut the door and hug him. So that way, he may once again feel the heat of the sun against warm flesh.

Astarion’s heart swelled, lips parted as he struggled to react and while he still couldn’t quite express his gratitude and affections out loud, he knew he could show you them through his actions and it would always mean just as much. He may have thought the plan ridiculous, silly even, but it was your attempt that moved him. The way you never gave up on him. Now here you two are, you out in the sun as he lurks in the depths of the shadows. Astarion’s lips part as he watches you bask in the sunlight's rays, your eyes closed and a soft smile on your face.

Whilst always beautiful, Astarion remains even more assured that you are most beautiful in the sun. His feelings toward you both similar in the weight you hold in his heart. His eyes trial over your form, looking on as the sunlight highlights your complexion, the sun shimmering across your skin. The way it flickers off of you, making you appear even more brighter and full of life. Astarion watches it all, his attentions never having been more focused. He couldn’t dare look away from you and miss a moment of this.

You were so close and yet so far and as Astarion looked upon your beauty, memories from before starts flooding through his mind of him out there with you. Astarion couldn’t help but step forward, reaching out to you. He didn’t think, too caught up in how much he wanted you near. Not because of the sun but simply because you were you.

As his hand falls into a faint sliver of sun, instead of the comforting warmth he has shamefully become accustomed to, the familiar burning radiates across his skin. The sound of his skin sizzling rang in the quiet air and instead of peace the sun now brings panic, causing Astarion to release a high-pitched hiss. You jump, opening your eyes and looking over at him as Astarion quickly draws his hand back. You take a step to him but he uses that same hand to motion for you to stop.

“No! Don’t come closer. Just stay out there… for a little while longer,” Astarion pleads, brows furrowing deeply. It wasn’t until this moment, this instant where he’s reminded of the pain the sun has the power to inflict upon him, that he thinks your once silly idea may actually be important.

“Astarion-“ You try, tilting your head, eyes on his crackling hand that already starts to heal itself. But it’s one shake from his head that has you quieting. The softness in his gaze that has you stopping from stepping into his darkness. You look over him before giving a tentative nod. Your body turns back toward the sun within the space of the open door, but your eyes occasionally flicker over to him.

His fingers press into the flesh as it returns to its original smooth texture, the only trace of it being the faint throbbing that was already starting to fade too. As Astarion stares at you as you stand in the one place he could not reach you, despair flowers in his chest like a plague. You two are so different. While dealing with the parasite, while able to walk into the sun, Astarion could simply ignore it, not think about it because there were so many other important things to think about. Could push their differences aside in order to use you, then eventually love you.

But all that was gone now. You could walk in the day while he was stuck in the shadows. Even while only inches away, to Asatrion, it was like he could see an invisible barrier set between you both. A force that stops him from being with you, touching you. Something he could never cross so long as he was like this— a vampire spawn.

He was not good for you, he knew. All this time, Astarion allowed himself to be greedy, convinced himself that you need him as much as he needs you. But his love was doing exactly what the dark was doing to him. Trapping you. He was sure that if your heart wasn’t so big, you’d be out in the sun more often. Like you deserved.

Then you did the most peculiar thing. In a flash, you were closing the door, objecting yourself to the dark, and you reach for him. One hand wrapping around his waist as the other grips the nape of his neck. Both use their strength to pull him into you. Before Astarion can process what’s happening, you’re hugging him.

Warmth radiates off your skin and spreads over his. You guide Astarion’s head into your neck, letting him feel all the heat the sun left on you. Now, after this time being with him, Astarion doesn’t hesitate to hug you back. His arms wrap around you firmly as he exhales a shaky breath.

“I could feel you thinking from all the way over there,” your smooth voice washes over him, making warmth spread within him as well as across his body. He burrows closer to you, soaking up everything your skin was offering. He could imagine the fierce sun and how it must have felt upon first contact. But somehow, when it was you providing it instead of the sun, it was better. So much better.

He finally had you in his arms and the fog that moments prior were tormenting him now clear away. As you imply, he was thinking too much. He was spiraling and second guessing himself and even worse, you. He knows that you would never truly do something you didn’t want. You wouldn’t be with him unless it’s what you wanted. He didn’t have the power to trap you and he would never want it. While he can’t deny your differences, he also can’t say they’re a bad thing. He likes that you’re not the same person. Although, Astarion would dare say he’d make a lovely suitor for himself if the chance arose.

“What ever are you talking about, darling?” Releasing a light-hearted chuckle along with the question. Astarion’s hand brushes along your neck as well, the skin feeling even warmer here. Everything in him tells him to hide his feelings, to brush them aside and offer a short quip. While he knows he’ll end up telling you everything later, right now he can’t help but evade the vulnerability that was controlling him.

“Oh, I must be seeing things, then,” you tease right back, understanding Astarion and playing along with it. Astarion closes his eyes, gratefulness filling his body and pouring out in his physical contact with you.

“Hmm, must get that checked out,” he shoots back, not able to stop the words from slipping out of his mouth. You both end up laughing together and the peace that spreads through the atmosphere around you two reminds him why he never ends up keeping anything from you anymore. He learned his lesson once before.

The two of you fall into a peaceful silence as you remain hugging in the darkness. Your skin quickly grows colder again, losing what your time in the sun left you with. Even so, neither of you step away from the hug.

“You know, out of all the ways you’ve attempted to give me back sunlight, I have to say, this is by far my favorite,” Astarion admits, moving to rest his forehead against yours. The warmth he feels with you blazes hotter than any sun could ever supply him. He hears as your heart picks up and your neck once again becomes warmer than the rest of your body. Astarion does not hold back his grin, informing you of his awareness, yet remains still as he enjoys what he can get.

Astarion keeps you close as he realizes that any lack of sun is worth it when he gets moments like this in return.