#but I have to get rid of this image for at least a little while bc I can't function

[ablobwhowrites]

When the bots found out m/n has a favorite

Vehicon m/n in Cybertron school be like

The dynamic of Vehicon m/n and SG Vehicon m/n

Vehicon m/n in the RID universe

Since you plan to have yandere trollhunter

M/n is reconsidering his life rn

A bonus

Vehicon m/n healing

Bayverse transformer universe is vehicon m/n's nightmare, cause he is scared of Megatron cause he'd rather be with Arachnid than being dragged into the bayverse cause he thinks that Megatron will grab him and rip him in two like jazz (he would never...just a leg maybe) he also is scared Quintessa cause like have you seen what she can do?

Vehicon m/n: "I don't have favorites. What makes you feel like I have favorites?" *Looks behind him* "oh my primes

Also love the mental image of Optimus giving vehicon m/n especially when bro need one cause bro is the embodiment of “it’s you!” To the “despite everything it’s still you.”

B-127: "hey guys I found m/n!...but they kinda look weird?"

vehicon m/n: "how the fuck did I get here?"

Trollhunter m/n whispering : "it's okay, we just have to be super quiet"

*loud notification*

Toby: "hey clash of claAAAA-"

*m/n gets snatched by bular*

trollhunter m/n when he gets a magical weapon that they have no idea how to use. (you guys can decide what weapon it is)

Tfa arachnid: "I created you, you created me"

Tfa y/n: "Optimus why did you create that guy?"

Optimus: "I didn't! I tried to save her!" (I rewatched transformers animated)

Vehicon m/n: "finally a normal looking motorcycle"

Rid m/n: "odd green motorcycle but hey at least it's normal, let's take it back to base can be a cool present for Russel or-"

*motorcycle transforms into kickback*

Vehicon m/n: "ITS A BIG ASS BUG, IT OFF ME OH MY GO-"

(kickback is a big ass bug so I'd be really freaked out if that big ass cricket got in me. Also I love the minicons in the show but also is like underbite some kind of dog or something like that? Cause steeljaw is a wild) w

I had this thought when watching transformers one for the 3rd time, what if vehicon m/n had D-16’s crash out? Like as vehicon m/n slowly realizing Silas took everything from him, his life, his ability to every see his family again and then snaps at prime basically dong the same talk D-16 did in the movie but only wanting revenge on Silas but if he wasn’t talked out of it by prime then basically I think slowly m/n would turn to the decepticons basically only being blinded by rage and revenge for Silas. Should I let vehicon m/n crash out for a little while? Cause I feel like he deserves a small bit to crash out but I don't know what do you guys think?

Anyways hope you guys are well and please stay hydrated and get plenty of rest guys.

[dreamlandcreations]

Imagine waking up after the celebration...

Imagine waking up after the celebration with a massive hangover and embraced by not only your naked lover, Shanks, but his sort of frenemy, Mihawk - who is just as bare as you two - while all three of you are napping on the beach a little further than the rest of the crew.

You were certainly out of sight during the night but not out of earshot, given the teasing you receive from the Red Hair Pirates after you return to their camp...

• Shanks masterlist • Main Masterlist • Moodboards masterlist •

[angelltheninth]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do The Hazbin Cast x Reader, where they and Reader are having a romantic moment to themselves, and before anything more could happen, suddenly something or someone ruins the moment?

See... I both hate and love this trope. It's funny as hell, but frustrating as hell too.

Pairing: Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Adam, Vox, Valentino x Reader

Tags: fluff, kissing, interrupted romantic moment, canon typical violence, blood, suggestive, date night

A/N: I would punch anyone who interrupts me. And I'm not a violent person. So uh... these characters have an effect on me lmao.

Charlie acts very calm unless either or both of you is in any state of undress. There’s no one more affectionate than her, displaying that in front of others is fine with her, she wants others to know of her love for you. It’s a different thing if it’s in a more intimate setting where she expected to have alone time with you. With a deep breath, some blushing and a groan she would try to get rid of distractions as soon as possible but at the same time. she would apologize to whoever interrupted you for shooing them away.

Vaggie has a blade at hand and it is promptly thrown next to the head of whoever interrupted you. Deep down she is a huge romantic and enjoys being romanced a lot, on the surface she is a badass fighter and she had an image to uphold with many people. There’s a lot of yelling and cursing, probably more than one threat of killing someone before she is back by your side, grumbling and murmuring to herself about forgetting to lock the damn door.

Alastor threatens to tear apart anyone who interrupts you, he puts that out as a warning because of how many times it’s happened in the past and he’s grown tired of being in a middle of a dance or cuddling and someone barging in wanting something. Usually he’s the one who walks in without knocking, now he’s getting to see how it feels. It doesn’t feel good, a full record scratch, even his shadow looks pissed off at even the slightest interruption.

Lucifer is in good spirits recently so even something as an interrupted date doesn’t get under his skin, if it was before it would have been a different story. Right now wile a little annoyed he can forgive and forget, after all no one saw anything too scandalous, although some would say that seeing the King of Hell in handcuffs is pretty scandalous by itself. As long as this doesn’t happen again it will be fine, although he knows you will tease him for it later.

Angel Dust obviously doesn’t mind it too much, on the surface at least, he is a porn star so getting watched is part of the job. That’s in the studio at least, at the Hotel he has the privacy he never had before, he likes it a lot actually, it’s almost too good to be true. Maybe he will occasionally flirt with or tease who ever interrupted you but in these four walls he is all yours and he won’t let the mood be spoiled by anyone, including his boss.

Husk groans and pulls your face close to his neck to help you hide your flushed face from the onlooker. How is this so perfectly timed, right when he wanted to take your clothes off and have a bit of fun with you someone just had to walk in. Well they’re really lucky he’s not as powerful as he once was otherwise they would be splattered all over the walls right now and would have to put themselves together while he makes out with you.

Sir Pentious hides his face behind his hat the moment someone enters his bedroom and sees you on top of him. Damn it, he told his Egg Boiz to make sure no one enters his bedroom, which also applies to them, until one of you steps out first, no matter what noises are heard from inside. As soon as you’re done and you think you’re gonna sleep he slithers out and starts working on plans for a new machine to make sure no one interrupts you ever again: a doorbell with a laser.

Adam yells at the person who interrupted the two of you because damn he’s been waiting the whole day to have you all to himself, all moody and pent up. This is his time with you, which means that no one gets to tell him he’s needed elsewhere before he’s done with you. He wraps you up with his wings if he sees you’re getting embaressed but really now, considering everything you do together getting watched shouldn’t be an issue.

Vox flinches when he gets a ping that someone’s crossed in front of his cameras which he set up just so no one catches the two of you in a compromising position. He sighs as he pulls away and covers you with a blanket, hiding your body from anyone’s view but his, which is funny because he has an insight into almost everyone else’s love life. For a demon like that he wants to keep his own affairs fairly private, at least the bedroom kind.

Valentino grins at the person who walks in on the two of you, he has zero shame regardless of your own level of shame he will brag about everything that happens and if someone sees it then even better. Besides he is the Overlord of the the porn industry, you knew things like this could happen when you began your relationship with him. He is so comfortable in fact that he will just keep going, kissing you occasionally to tell you that you’re doing a good job in front of a crowd.

[ellecdc]

Mother, im sitting here at 4am, eating mini easter eggs and ive had tge most brilliant idea!! (Inspired by @inkdrinkerworld 's fic)

Okay so, poly!moonwater and readers been having trouble sleeping due to tensions/problems with her pureblood family. As a result shes been taking more naps, but they arent restful. So reader were napping in Rems bed (the dungeons were too cold) but after a fitful 30 minutes she gets up groggy, sleep deprived and beyond frustrated. She stumbles her way down to the common room, pin point Sirius lounging across the couch and promptly throws herself down to cuddle with him and continue her nap. Everyone (minus Siri) is shook. Jamie even asks if she got the wrong person because Reggie was sitting over there (in which he got a one eyed death glare before she burrowed into Siris chest and passed out).

Now, what everybody else didnt know was that Siri had more or less adopted reader as his own (she remined him so much of Reggie, being her big brother was 2nd nature). And while Barty was her person, he was a little too crazy to be comforting in this situation ("y/n, i'll get rid of them for you. Its not hard to do so" "Barty, no."). And of course Siri nows how bad their kind of familys are so he'd been taking care of reader on the down low as an older brother would.

Bonus if Reggie then decides that looks warm and fuzzy and wants Siri cuddles too so he joins ( it took him so long to get to a point where he could let himself be vunerable enough to openly allow Siri to take care of him 😭)

aweeee poor reader. this ended up being way more serious than I thought it would be? like it's not funny at all, there's no humour (which feels odd to me, usually I can throw some jokes or banter in there) but plenty of hurt comfort???.......idk, I can't tell if this is any good, it feels very different from my usual pieces

poly!moonwater x fem!reader whose family sucks (but it's very Sirius-centric)

CW: mentions of insomnia, mentions of abusive families, making fun of only children (sorry), hurt/comfort

You were miserable to say the least; you couldn’t remember when the last time you had a restful sleep was, and nothing you did seemed to help.

The closer it got to the Winter Holidays, the more your mind seemed to spiral. Every time you began to relax, your heart pounded as if you’d accidentally leaned too far back in your chair, reminding you of your upcoming visit home. Every time you closed your eyes, you were bombarded with images of angry faces and violent curses being shot at you.

The Slytherin dungeons were too cold, and every time you found your way into Regulus’ dorm, Barty insisted on butting in, and though you appreciated his support, you couldn’t handle his threats promises to burn down your home with your parents in it. 

Remus and Regulus both suggested you perhaps talk to Madame Pomfrey about getting some dreamless sleep or sleeping draught, but you were too embarrassed to admit to your two overprotective boyfriends that you’ve used them so frequently during your life for this very reason that they had lost all efficacy. 

It had gotten to the point that you managed to get the most sleep in the library bent over the table with your face on your book whilst Remus and Regulus did their work (and sometimes yours), and that honestly left you feeling more painfully tired than you had been before your nap.

So, you were nearly falling asleep at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall over your chicken and roast potatoes when Remus gently nudged you and suggested you go lie down for a bit and you wanted to weep into your potatoes which was only slightly less embarrassing than sleeping in them, causing him and Regulus to bring you up to Gryffindor tower.

You’d kicked them both out of the Marauders’ dorm room after some time – Remus for snoring and Regulus because the sound of him turning the pages of his book was distracting you. He promised to stop reading, but then he breathed too loudly and you started crying.

You were overtired, emotional, and running on fumes.

You’d counted puffskeins, you’d had a warm glass of milk, you’d taken off articles of clothing and reconfigured your outfit numerous times (which was currently Remus’ jumper and no pants), and you’d tried every position imaginable to no avail. 

You think you might have perhaps gotten five minutes of sleep before you woke up with a start, a barely repressed scream grating through your teeth.

Feeling disturbingly weepy and no less groggy from your horrid sleep, you pulled on a pair of your sweatpants and grabbed the throw blanket from the end Remus’ bed before trudging down the stairs to the common room.

“You should have seen the look on Filch’s face- oh! Hi Y/N!” James called as you made your way over to the three-seater and stood over the black-haired boy currently occupying it.

“Oh, Trouble.” He cooed sympathetically at you before kicking his feet out, laying back, and opening his arms for you to join him. You quickly climbed on top of him, and he tucked you in between the back of the sofa and his side, bending your knee so that your thigh rested on top of his, and pulled the blanket over the two of you.

You let out a shaky sigh and felt the first few tears fall from your eyes and onto Sirius’ chest.

“Uhm...” James said loudly, looking over to both Regulus and Remus cuddled in a large plush chair from his place on the loveseat with Lily like ‘are you seeing this right now?’. “I think you’ve got the wrong wizard there, L/N.” He said with a nervous laugh.

“No, she’s quite alright.” Sirius gritted back at him, looking far more severe than James thought the situation called for as he rubbed his hand consolingly up and down your arm. 

James looked to your boyfriends, his face clearly asking all the questions that his mouth wasn’t.

“He helps, sometimes.” Regulus admitted, not looking particularly happy that you chose his brother over him, but not nearly as murderous as James figured he might look if he’d found Lily snuggled up like that with some other bloke. And it appeared as though the look of heartbreak on Remus’ face was caused more by your current sorry state and less about your current cuddle partner.

“But...your brother?” James asked, still befuddled over this development. “Doesn’t she usually go to Junior for things like this?”

Sirius scoffed. “Junior’s solution to almost anything is fire or murder.”

“Or both.” You whimpered quietly, causing Sirius to tighten his arm around you and bring his other hand up to continue stroking your arm.

“Besides, Barty’s an only child.” Regulus said flippantly.

“What’s that got to do with it?” James asked, slightly offended at the insinuation that anything may be wrong with him on account of his only child-ness. 

Regulus’ irritable demeanor over Sirius usurping you was quickly replaced by a cocky smirk at getting under James’ skin.

“Let me ask you this, Potter: last summer when Lily returned your letters unopened and called you an arrogant toerag after saying she’d rather date the giant squid, whose arms did you cry into?”

“He didn’t cry.” Lily laughed at the same time as James answered “Sirius’” without any hesitation.

“What?” Lily asked, looking slightly horrified that she may have actually hurt James’ feelings.

“Oh, all the time, every time, actually.” James said readily. 

“He got snot on so many of my favourite band-tee’s, Red. As a matter of fact, I expect retribution.” Sirius commented.

“And why do you think you cried into Sirius’ arms?” Regulus continued.

“Well...because he’s my best mate.” James said simply.

“You may��think that’s the reason, but you’re wrong. It’s because Sirius is an older brother.”

James scoffed at that. “Please, that has nothing to do with it!”

“Have you ever cried in Remus’ arms?”

“No, but-”

“Pettigrew’s?”

James grimaced but answered honestly. “No.”

“No. Because they’re not older brothers.” Regulus said definitively.

“That actually makes sense...” Lily mused aloud. 

“You say that like you’re surprised, Evans. I know you’re not used to good idea’s coming out of men’s mouths, but I do assure you it happens more frequently than you might imagine.” Regulus taunted, earning him a pillow being hurled at his head. 

Much to James’ chagrin, his seeker reflexes caught the pillow before it made impact with his face. 

“Tosser.” James grumbled. 

“Would you guys shut up.” Sirius whispered, causing everyone to look over at you. 

Regulus couldn’t even find it in him to be miffed when he saw you sleeping what looked to be quite peacefully in Sirius’ arms. Your eyes were slightly swollen from your tears, and he could see the tracks they had left on your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose, but you looked so content. 

“So... all big brothers know how to do that?” James asked incredulously.

“I doubt it.” Sirius commented quietly.

“Only ones who know what it’s like to live in a Pureblood hellscape and needed to share his bed with his younger brother who was too scared to sleep on his own for years.” Regulus added quietly, staring unseeingly towards you and Sirius. Remus pulled Regulus tighter into his side and began rubbing his arm consolingly.

Suddenly, things started to make a little more sense to James. 

“I’ll write to mum.” James stated, causing both brothers, Lily, and Remus to look at him bemusedly.

“About what?” Remus asked finally.

“Y/N staying with us.” James said simply.

Regulus opened his mouth ready to argue; to argue that James didn’t have to and that he already took in both Sirius and Regulus. James didn’t owe Regulus anything. 

But Sirius spoke first.

“She should be with her big brother, Reggie.” Sirius said, shooting him an encouraging smile and wink.

And seeing how your breathing had fallen even with your mouth slightly ajar as you clutched to the fabric of Sirius’ jumper like it was a lifeline, who was Regulus to argue?

[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.

[maple-the-awesome]

The Chain Meets You, His Partner || 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairing: Warrior, Twilight, Legend x GN! Reader

Requested by @temporarilyablog: i see requests are open still so im coming to you with a thought i had recently: how about a Link from the Chain interacting with the reader, another Link's s/o from their original adventures, when *their* Link isn't around. i can see some teasing another Link with the reader that they've only known through little stories here and here, or others grilling the reader relentlessly because another Link was so shy about their relationship and partner, and wants to know how that Link is like around someone he allows himself to relax. its kinda like when the Chain met Malon for the first time and interacted with her for stories about old man Time and as always stay awesome, i love your writing!

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

Concerningly delighted or eerily eager - the Chain can't quite agree on which descriptor best described their teammate the best once he realized they had all landed in his Hyrule. Bubbling with excitement ever since while maintaining a pace some of the other boys have to jog after, Link doesn’t waste breath saying where he’s leading them, although that giddy smile upon his face - as much as he tries to hide it - is plenty for the wiser heroes to get the hint...

Taking numerous shortcuts that avoid public attention, Warrior skillfully navigates the familiar streets of Castle Town with his only pause being at the doorstep of his apparent destination. There, he takes a quick second to smooth his hair and perfect his uniform before knocking a fist against the chestnut wood.

The curious murmurs of the boys huddled behind him adds ambience to his impatient wait where his thoughts temporarily worry that perhaps you aren't awake yet, after all the sun is only just rising above the waking town, however true to your many letters which have complaint of insomnia during his absence, the door soon opens not more than a minute later to reveal your tired figure.

Even with a mess of bedhead and a robe tied lazily around yourself, you look beautiful and sacred in Warrior's eyes - an observation he isn't alone in making. Some mainly Legend had doubted that you were even real or at the very least matching to the Captain’s honey-soaked descriptions, although none can deny how well you truly hold up to that image.

You awake in a snap and leap into your lover's arms with a cry of joy; a feeling that is contagious throughout the group who watches on in silent amusement. Suddenly their friend's excitement makes plenty of sense, especially knowing how much he's missed you throughout their journey. Seriously, he's never shut up about it!

You can't rid of the smile on your face when Warrior finally takes his attention off of you long enough to introduce the others, all of whom you’ve already learned about from his letters. Without hesitation, you invite the group of worn travelers into your home while waving off any concern raised about possibly intruding at such an ungodly hour.

"Nonsense. You’re all welcome here any time. I know from personal experience how much rest can mean during a long and perilous journey.”

"My love is a captain, as well~" Warrior brags proudly, his arm wrapped snugly around your waist as you both stand aside to let the others file through into the warmth of your home.

"We know. You've only mentioned it a dozen times," Four rolls his eyes teasingly while passing by.

"So I take it you all already know about me then. Hopefully all good things?" You eye Warrior with mocked suspicion, yet he’s hardly fazed, dodging any blame by pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

"Of course. The trick is getting him to shut up about you," Twilight says, earning a laugh. You couldn’t deny it if you tried - that sure does sound like your Link, and seeing as he does nothing to argue against the claim, instead pressing another longer kiss to your cheek, he recognizes he’s a guilty man.

The group is simply happy for the chance to finally rest their feet somewhere homely, although none complain to your offer of throwing together breakfast, even if it’s just a small one made up of some toast, eggs, and a first-come-first-serve fruit bowl. While you gather this makeshift meal, Warrior remains practically glued to your side, sneaking kisses and lingering touches whenever he can manage before you shoo him away playfully.

The heroes have all experienced their fair share of interesting and distinctive adventures, however rather than saying much about themselves, they favor asking about you, wanting to confirm if everything Warrior has said is true, after all he’s built you up to be a talented soldier who’s sword should be feared by even the fiercest of monsters. It’s not to say they doubt it based on your build and stern undertone, but it would still be nice to hear from you personally.

You admit to your reputation, however are too modest to exactly rave about your military achievements or detail your victories during war. That role is left to your boyfriend who’s unafraid to brag for your sake while tying in as many compliments as possible, both professional and of the romantical sort. As for the boys, they only interrupt with brief questions or comments, mostly related to your relationship as curiosity and thirst for mischief get the better of some of them.

“Sounds like he was smitten at first sight,” Sky smirks after hearing the story of your initial meeting, not that he could ever judge. If anything, seeing you both together warms his heart with the memory of his own lover.

“Was the feeling mutual?” Someone else asks teasingly.

For once, Warrior remains silent, glancing at you subtly in an attempt to hide his own interest towards the answer. While you certainly struck him dumb with one look, your own expression had always held a bit of resentment during those early days, your attitude strict and standards held impossibly high - higher than they were for any other subordinate.

Link never blamed you, though. If anything, it made perfect sense for you to not be his biggest fan. All of your hard work had been largely overshadowed by the discovery of Hyrule’s new hero, his simple existence being to blame for the war you then had to fight tirelessly through. You weren’t willing to give him a pass just because of his shiny title and pretty face, instead holding him to expectations you’d set for anyone destined to defeat Ganondorf. He had to earn your trust and love overtime, at least what he always assumed.

Yet to Warrior’s surprise, you become slightly bashful as you stubbornly redirect your gaze and answer, “...I admit I found him attractive - both in appearance and personality…A little too cocky, though, and not the best listener there in the start. He had to be trained out of that habit.”

Startled by this revelation, Warrior mocks offense, “You barely gave me the time of day!” 

“I was putting your ego in check,” You reply easily.

“So you were playing hard to get that whole time?”

“Oh please, you were enjoying it,” You smirk, leaning in for the challenge with your noses centimeters apart. 

For a second, it’s as if you’ve forgotten about your guests, too busy staring into each other’s eyes affectionately, that is until Legend scoffs while biting into an apple, "If our captain here was smart, he'd hurry up and put a ring on it before you finally come to your senses."

Warrior’s eyes widen into a look of horror after the Veteran's comment, yet you take it in stride, laughing as you pat your boyfriend’s chest, “There’s really no need to rush, after all, life has only recently started calming down following Ganon, and the hope is that neither of us will be going anywhere anytime soon…assuming that you boys help keep this one out of trouble during your adventure.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” The group cheers with a chorus of amused laughter resulting from Warrior’s flustered face; a rare sight they plan to memorize.

Your smile remains even as you lift yourself to sit on the counter where you can nibble on your piece of toast, Warrior following in suit with a huff while he shamelessly pouts like a child at your side. Alas, you merely find it endearing, kissing his cheek which seems to be addicting enough to have him chasing after your lips, pecking them as he takes your free hand in his and whispers in your ear for no one else to hear, “I’ll have you know I already have a ring.”

“And I’ll have you know I’ve already found it,” You smirk, placing a finger against his lips, “Keep trying and maybe one day you’ll be able to get one step ahead of me, my dear captain.”

He huffs again before stealing a quick bite of your toast.

The boys chase Twilight blindly through what appears to be a forest no different than the many others they’ve already traveled through during their adventure, however it’s when crossing a long wooden bridge over a canyon that they begin to connect the dots as to where they really are; a point soon proven correct once reaching a small treehouse standing by its lonesome amongst a meadow.

Even Epona seems eager to arrive here, confirming this is somewhere familiar to the two. She’s pleased to busy herself by grazing outside while her rider has other plans, leading his comrades up a steep ladder and into his cozy home. He invites them to make themselves comfortable, although he’s still clearly distracted by another thought himself. 

His eyes search the house excitedly, disappointment echoing on his face when he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for. He looks no different than a kicked puppy, his smile drooping into a frown that he doesn’t explain. There’s no need to. As quickly as his joy had soured, it returns in a blink when the front door once again opens from behind the group.

You’re understandably startled to look up and find eight heavily armed men crowded around in your house, however your surprise doesn’t stand long. Swiftly, you’re scooped up into someone’s arms then spun with ease. It only takes you seconds to realize it’s your lover doing, having already assumed he’d be somewhere within this party of travelers seeing as his loyal mare had been there to greet you just outside.

To say you’re both delighted to see each other again would be an understatement. You’ve been impatient awaiting the day Link returns, only having so many ways to distract yourself from his absence in this small village. With that said, you have no objections to the deep kiss he steals, instead savoring it as your arms steady themselves around his neck while he still holds you off the ground against his chest. It’s a display that has some of the boys gagging in mocked disgust, although most merely smile, finding joy through that of their brother’s. After all, if he can be this happy, maybe there’s hope for all of them.

Twilight has, of course, frequently mentioned you before to the heroes, but had never gone into too much detail nor had he exactly specified the extent of your relationship. Nevertheless, the boys already assumed you to be a lover, after all, you would have to be someone special to always occupy a rent-free space in their dear rancher’s head.

Only Time, Wild, and Four knew the exact specifics because one, they had actually gone out of their way to respectfully ask, and two, Twilight trusted them enough not to relentlessly tease. Seeing how long it took Warrior to drop the dog jokes after finding out his ‘wolfie secret’, Twilight could only imagine the jester that damned captain would become if possessing any other information about his intimate life…A fear proven rational now that the cat’s officially out of the bag.

Fortunately or unfortunately - Your boyfriend has yet to decide - you seemed to instantly forget that the eight travelers are total strangers to you and insisted they all stay the night; a kind hearted offer born from good intentions, but also the perfect opportunity for the boys to plan their rancher’s downfall by mercilessly interrogating you about your relationship.

“When did you guys meet and where?”

“Did he make the first move or did you?”

“How’d he ask you out?”

“Do you ever get tired of the dog smell?”

Twilight rolls his eyes, finding himself slowly regretting this whole show-and-tell of his lover. He should’ve just slipped away from the group and snuck home to visit you. They would’ve been none the wiser seeing as he often strays as Wolfie anyway. Surely had he told Four or Wild, they would’ve covered for him. Now he’s stuck listening to this meet-and-greet with the one person who knows all the good dirt there is to be found on him. It doesn’t help that you answer every question as if it’s your sworn duty assigned by Hylia herself.

“We met in Castle Town - back when he first set out to become a hero. Poor guy was completely lost, so I took pity upon him by pointing him in the right direction.”

“He made the first move, although I’d like to think I gave him a good push.”

“Oh, that’s one of my favorite memories! He set up this beautiful little picnic at Lake Hylia. It was very romantic.”

“...Sometimes, yeah.”

“Do you have any embarrassing stories to tell about him?” Wild asks with a devilish grin, taking joy in the betrayal that cuts across Twilight’s face.

“The better question would be where to start -”

“- Alright, alright. You’ve all had your fun. Don’t overwhelm them now,” Twilight cuts into the conversation at last, moving behind you with his hands set upon your shoulder. You wouldn’t be able to see it from where you sit, but he’s sending a warning glare to the other heroes who are hardly intimated.

“Oh come on! We’re just making up for lost time since you refuse to tell us anything about this lovely beauty,” Warrior punctuates his sentence by winking your way, making it clear he knows exactly how to push his friend’s buttons.

Twilight almost growls, seconds away from kicking everyone out under the stars for the night, however with your soft hand set upon his own, you smile up at him sweetly, “They’re okay, Link. I don’t mind the questions.”

‘I do,’ he wants to object, but he’s weak against your pleading eyes. With no other choice, he’s forced to sigh and take the seat next to you. The price of this compromise is your hand which he refuses to let go of, instead keeping it rested against his lap as the group eagerly continues teasing him questioning you.

“Have you always lived together?” Sky asks, perhaps the only one here who is truly innocent with his curiosity.

“Not until recently. It took some convincing for my family.”

“What, the goats and farm smells didn’t appeal to them?” Legend snickers playfully.

“Not exactly…” You grimace.

“They’re a well known noble family from Castle Town,” For once, Twilight answers a question himself, squeezing your hand with a smile that’s really closer to a smirk, “‘don’t think they cared much for their eldest running away with some plain o’ ranch hand.”

You return the action just as smugly, “But you won them over in the end.”

“Or they were just happy to get rid of ya’.”

“Why not a little of both?” You shrug before pecking his nose which leaves him grinning like a lovesick puppy. Legend sticks his tongue out and Warrior tells you both to get a room, prompting Twilight to promptly remind him whose house they’re currently in.

The rest of the Chain laughs heartily, save for Time who has been the only hero apparently mature enough not to actively take part in poking a wolf. He has simply been listening in respectful silence with his arms crossed over his chest and a small smile of amusement upon his face. Honestly, his presence could’ve been completely forgotten if not for him finally choosing to speak up as soon as the laughter dies down, “And does he behave himself around you?”

Twilight nearly chokes on his saliva and even you blush at this question, but you don't hesitate to offer an endearing nod, “Oh, of course. Link’s a perfect gentleman. I couldn’t possibly ask for anyone better.”

This seems to satisfy Time who returns your nod proudly, his smirk evident when Twilight dares take a peek at him, although the younger man struggles to fully face anyone beyond that; he’s too busy rubbing away the embarrassment from his face. 

Taking this as a sign that he’s officially reached his limit, you dismiss any further questions while placing a comforting hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder, yet your sympathy is a poor mask placed over the clear mirth even you take in his flustered state.

Legend never bothers announcing himself upon arriving home, although that’s something you’ve come to expect from your adventurous and often absent roommate. Seeing as you don’t get many visitors, it’s safe to assume it’s either him or Ravio whenever the front door creaks open, but nevertheless, you poke your head around the corner just to be certain. Yep, it’s Link…along with a group of strange boys?

“Funny. I didn’t think you had any friends,” Is your greeting as you lean against the doorway.

“You’re one to talk,” Legend scoffs back while simply brushing past you towards his chest room, “I’m just here to grab a few things and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Ah,” You nod, already accustomed to this pattern. As common as it is for his homecomings to lack any fanfare, it’s also fairly usual for his presence here to be short-lived so long as he has his sights set on adventure. Occasionally, he’ll take the time to fill you in on what he’s exactly doing, especially if planning on staying for a meal or nap, but other times, he’s in and out that door without a word.

You don’t mind, after all it’s exactly what you knew you’d be getting yourself into when you first agreed to move in, however it seems this group of travelers Legend’s brought along with him aren’t so used to his solitary ways. They all huddle awkwardly around the door, their eyes darting across the room and at times landing on you in clear curiosity that goes unspoken for now. You take it they’re unsure as to what they should be doing while waiting for Legend.

“Make yourselves comfortable. I’m sure he’ll only be a minute or two,” Your invitation is gladly accepted by the boys who quickly fill into the room instead of remaining in their crowded bundle. A few sit on whatever stools there are available at the table, but most remain standing. 

Faced with either awkward silence or a basic conversation, you decide to introduce yourself, telling them all your name with a friendly smile, “‘not sure if Link mentioned me or not, but I live here with him. I promise I’m not just some homeless person who broke in while he was away.”

“We didn’t think you were,” One chuckles stiffly, likely taking your comment as an odd ‘joke’. If only they knew about Ravio…

“Sooo, are you Lege - Link’s…Um -”

“- Roommate? Yeah. ‘have been for the last year.”

A brunette boy raises an eyebrow, even going as far as to squint his eyes at you as if you’ll suddenly confess to being a robber or something, “Are you only ‘roommates’ or…?”

"Well, what else would we be?" You ask, cocking your head to the side innocently. The boys all stare at you in disbelief.

“It’s just - The Vet talks about you all the time. Like, all the time!”

“Does he?” Now that’s a nice thought: Legend going out of his way to tell his traveling companions about you, speaking your name as if you’re someone important to him who always occupies a section of his mind…Oh, but you doubt it’s anything like that. He’s likely only mentioned you once and they’re exaggerating.

“I don’t know if he does ‘all the time’,” The shortest of the room argues almost as if reading your mind before adding more seriously, “But he has mentioned you. Pretty fondly, I’d say.”

“With the lovey-dovey eyes and everything,” The knight of the group nudges one of his friends teasingly and they both share a laugh.

You find it contagious, “If that were true, I’d suggest you check to make sure he hasn’t gotten a concussion. ‘Lovey-dovey’? Now that doesn’t sound like my Link.”

“What doesn’t sound like me?”

A few of the boys go pale while others smirk almost as if they take pleasure in having been caught. You never even heard Legend approach, although one look to your side and you see him already standing there with crossed arms, his eyes narrowed towards his friends.

You open your mouth, prepared to brush aside his worries and assure him they haven’t been saying anything bad about him behind his back, but then the youngest boy suddenly blurts: “Have you guys ever kissed before?!”

His question earns him a sharp elbow to the side and an even quicker scolding in a whispered tone, however the damage has already been done, particularly to your face which feels rather warm now. So that’s why they all seemed so confused by the whole ‘roommate’ thing. Apparently they doubt that’s the full story…

"No! I-I mean, not really...- It's not like we're a couple or anything if that’s what you’re thinking. We're just friends who decided to live together for convenience sake, that's all!" You explain in a rush.

“I needed someone to watch my house and stuff while I was away!” Legend adds, his face as red as his own tunic. Whether that’s from embarrassment or anger, you can’t tell, although the later might be the best guess given his puffed up cheeks. 

“Exactly! And I needed a place to stay.”

“Precisely! It was a ‘kill-two-birds-with-one-stone’ type of situation.”

“Simple as that!”

The group of travelers sit in silence, their eyes switching between Legend and you. Despite the diversity amongst them, they all manage the same deadpan expression; not a single one of them believes you, but then again, you’re not here for their approval. Hell, they’re in your house - Well, Legend’s house - NOT THAT IT MATTERS! You don’t owe these people an explanation for why you happen to live with a guy you may or may not find attractive! They’re not going to get one either!

Clapping your hands together, you do your best to change the subject, “So, no one’s told me how you guys have met yet. Let’s talk about that.”

.

.

.

Legend said they’d only be staying long enough to change his items, however that was a couple hours ago. You had lots of questions about finding out every stranger in your house was actually another version of him, all brought together across different timelines and kingdoms. A whole recap and dinner later, it had gotten late with many of the boys looking visibly tired from weeks on the road.

“What’s with the face?”

You want to call Link - your Link - a hypocrite because he’s had the same stupid pout on his face ever since he lost the vote on where they’d be staying for the night. You insisted that it be here, seeing no sensible reason for them to go camp elsewhere in the cold when they could have a warm roof over their heads. He did everything he could to argue, yet nine outweigh one.

“I’m just thinking about what your friends said earlier,” You sigh, rolling onto your back where you can stare at the ceiling instead of into his eyes as he lays next you. With the living room overflowing with guests, you’ve been forced to share a bed for the night not that you haven’t occasionally done it before, “I can’t believe they thought we’re dating. We’re friends who live together. That’s not illegal, is it?”

“Hmm.”

“And before they were saying you talk about me all the time like that means you’re in love with me or something. Like, I’m a fact of your life, sure, but I’m not your life itself, you know? It would be weirder for you to completely avoid mentioning me to other people.”

“...Yeah…”

“A-And maybe - just maybe - we’ve kissed before, but no further than a peck to the cheek or forehead…Only once have our lips actually touched…” You roll back onto your side to face him, biting your lip as you whisper, “...Maybe we should start putting more distance between ourselves to avoid any more misunderstandings like this…I’m sure if those boys already think we’re dating, the whole village must think it’s true.”

“...Or we could just do the opposite…” 

“What do you mean?”

Legend curls his face further against the pillow and his folded hands, doing everything he can to avoid your eyes as he mumbles barely audible words, “Clearly everyone is going to assume we’re in a relationship anyway, so we might as well avoid the hassle of having to explaining they’re wrong each time by just making it official…”

You blink, his hinted suggestion taking a few seconds to set in, although once it does you can’t help smirking. Leaning forward, you kiss his nose, causing his cheeks to flare as he stubbornly jerks away, “How convenient! I was recently thinking about looking for a boyfriend, but so long as you’re offering, you’ve saved me the trouble of finding someone as good as you!”

Legend grumbles, however that doesn’t stop him from inching closer to you and kissing your forehead, “...Just don’t say anything to them tomorrow or else I’ll never hear the end of it.”

[samthestrangerthingsfan]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: frienemies-to-lovers, kinda mean!Eddie? shy!reader, swearing, a lil smoochin', mentions of lack of confidence and poor self image, cute nicknames

a/n: hi bb, will you be my valentine? I don't love writing mean!eddie but its okay because we can always fix him :)

Valentine’s Day.

A day which the Hawkins High elite are positively buzzing over the plethora of cheap red and pink decorations.

Cheerleaders swoon over poorly constructed cards from their popular boyfriends, while dozens of obnoxious mylar balloons take up way too much space in the already crowded hallways.

Beyond the 14th of February, the reason for all the excitement was the annual Hawkins High Valentine’s Day dance—of which you were head of the committee.

Was it because you were the only Senior to volunteer their time to coordinating it instead of attending it? Maybe, but at least it gave you a reason to show up to the dance without a date.

...and avoid looking like the pitiful wallflower you are.

You also knew you’d have no time to rush home and get ready after your last class, so here you are. Standing outside of the AV Club door, decked out in your new crushed-velvet dress. It's ruby red and dangerously short.

This was definitely out of your comfort zone. You typically preferred to be invisible. It’s easier that way; no one can hurt what they can’t see. Right?

But when this dress caught your eye in the mall shop window, it was the first time you could ever remember wanting to be seen. Wanting to try to look like the pretty girls who walk the halls everyday vying for the attention of others.

The dance gave you the perfect excuse. Sure, it’s not like you had a date or anyone asking you to go, but you felt so beautiful. The way the dress hugged your body made all the staring and whispering as you walked down the hallway so, so worth it.

“Hey—whoa…” Dustin’s voice dropped when he walked around the corner, arms full of equipment. “Y-you look fantastic!” He said proudly.

Dustin was your favorite Freshmen, always kind and happy to see you.

“Aw, thanks Dusty! You don’t think it’s too much?” You lifted your boot, inspecting it falsely.

Dustin smiled, “It’s too much for 6th period Spanish, but not for Valentine’s Day that’s for sure.”

He unlocked the door, and held it for you.

Dusting grabbed a pen and paper to write down what you’d need the AV Club’s help with after school.

With hands on your hips, you looked around the room. “Okay, so I definitely need the projector, and if you could set it up before—“

An annoying, loud, cocky voice cut you off. “Henderson! What the hell is takin’ you so long?”

Eddie fucking Munson.

You watched as he sauntered into the room, DIO jacket and all. He clapped Dustin on the shoulders before turning his gaze to you.

“Holy shit. That you, Mouse?”

Mouse. A nickname you loathed.

You’d made the mistake of sitting at the Hellfire table your Freshman year, and he’s never let let you live it down. Once Eddie saw just how shy you were, he made it his mission to get under your skin.

He'd plopped down into the seat next to you, assuming you were there to cause him and the guys trouble. “New girl’s trying to get in good with the freaks, hm?”

You jumped and began to frantically pack your belongings, “I-I…I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I’ll just go—"

When he realized you were nervous, he changed his tone. No longer was he on edge, but rather trying to make you laugh. Show you it's okay to give him a taste of his own medicine. “No no, little mouse. You’re not scurrying away that easily.”

Four years later, you’re both still here and Eddie’s been a thorn in your side ever since. You thought you'd be rid of him once he graduated, but he flunked--twice. Condemning you to another year full of his nonsense.

His obnoxious, overly-confident, doe-eyed nonsense.

“Munson.” You couldn’t help the eye roll. “Dustin and I are working on something so,” you flicked your hand toward the door. “Skedaddle.”

“Oof,” he teased. “You kiss your mother with that potty mouth?”

Eddie walked past Dustin, hands on his hips as he took you in. “Why, may I ask, are you dressed so fancy, princess? Hot date with a frog?”

Okay, guess we’re playing this game.

“The only frog I know is you, Munson.”

His hand flew to his heart. “You hear this, Henderson? Who knew Mouse could be such a brat?”

“If you’ll excuse me,” you attempt to sidestep him, but he blocks your path. Big brown eyes watching your every move. “Don’t you have anything better to do than push my buttons?” It’s a pitiful gripe. You know he enjoys this far too much.

“C’mon, sweetheart. If I didn’t talk to you, who the hell would?”

Ouch.

Something no doubt said in jest, but it hurt to realize just how right he was. You had tons of acquaintances, and you got along great with the teachers. As for friends, the well's a bit dry in that department.

You cleared away the tightness in you throat. “Yeah, I don’t have time for this. I’m actually contributing to society. How about you?” Your face was twisted into a sarcastic smile, attempting to hide the hurt.

Eddie on the other hand thought the two of you were simply playing your favorite game. Seeing just how flustered he could make you before you gave him a taste of his own medicine.

“Yeah, you’re a real Nancy Reagan.” He laughed, gesturing to your dress.

Your eyes honed in on him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” he reached out, sweeping a piece of hair off of your cheek. “If you wanted a little attention, you didn’t have to do all this.”

This.

Said as if the word tasted rotten. Disgusted by what you’d considered to be you at your most beautiful.

I must look like a fucking fool.

The stinging in your eyes got stronger every second you stood in his presence. Your gaze locked onto the floor, following your feet as you left. “Bye, Dustin. I’ll see you later.”

Dustin protested, calling you back before turning his disappointed glare to Eddie.

“Dude…” he chided.

Eddie scoffed, “What? Henderson I was joking—she knows that, okay? That’s our whole thing.”

"Eddie, she was crying!"

Were you? No, no way. This is what the two of you do.

"No, she wasn't." He said unconvincingly. "You don't know her like I do, little buddy. She's a good girl, loves the cat-and-mouse of it all." Eddie wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or Dustin.

Eddie had a fuck of a time in O'Donnell's class, and now on top of all of that, he's late to set up Hellfire.

He moved a bit quicker down the hall, easy enough since most of the school left to get ready for the Desperate Dance. He intentionally always schedules DND on nights like this, that way he'd never have to be caught dead--

Eddie's stopped in his tracks at the sight of the trashcan at the end of the hall. He spots a familiar piece of red fabric hanging out of the bin.

He pulled it like a magician, revealing more and more of the velvet clothing until its fully removed,

A dress.

Your dress.

Why the fuck did you throw it in the trash? You we're the most confident Eddie had ever seen you while you wore this thing.

...and you looked drop dead gorgeous, but that's beside the point.

He heard your voice coming from the gym, and abandoned all thoughts of DND.

Eddie burst through the double doors, ignoring the frilly pink and red decorations for the dance. He weaved between the underclassmen carefully setting up the tables and backdrops to make his way over to you.

You, who now instead of being in your beautiful fucking dress, are in you school-supplied gym uniform. Your hair was pulled back, no longer falling in the perfectly natural way you had it earlier. Your makeup was gone--Eddie didn't mind that, he didn't think you needed it anyway.

But you'd never looked so small to him.

He called your name more gently than you've ever heard him speak. When you turned and saw your dress in his grip, you wanted to disappear.

Had he come to gloat?

"Why the hell was this in the trash?" he's not smirking, or sarcastic when he says it.

"Didn't like it." It's all the pain in your throat will let you get out.

You walk away from him, hurrying to find something else to do beside stand there and be made fun of by Eddie Munson.

"Bullshit," he calls after you, quick on your heels. "You don't wear a dress like this and look the way you look in it and just decide you don't like it."

You could feel the tears returning as soon as you stopped walking. "I don't know what you wanna hear," your back was to Eddie, but you felt his gaze regardless. "I just didn't like it...anymore, okay?"

The fake organization of the ribbons in front of you didn't deter him, he remained behind you in silence until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Did...did I say something? Earlier, in the AV Club." He spoke so softly, and with such sincerity, you'd never know it was Eddie talking to you.

You sniffled, angry at yourself for letting him hear how upset you were. "I don't know what you mean."

"Henderson," He's quick on your heels. "Henderson said you were crying when you left."

You don't--can't say anything. Trying desperately to will the tightness in your throat to go away and the tears to dry before they fall from your eyes. A small, shaking breath passes your lips.

"Please look at me, Mouse." His voice is hushed when he calls out to you.

You turn to him begrudgingly. Hoping if he saw the mess he made he'd leave well enough alone.

But when he sees your face, with red eyes and damp tear-stained cheeks, his heart falls into his stomach.

"Oh, oh sweetheart--"

You beat him to it. "I'm fine, Munson. Just...just give me the stupid thing, okay? I'm better off invisible, anyway."

"You've never been invisible to me." Eddie hands you the dress, and watches as you wring it between your hands. "I'm sorry, Mouse."

You scoff, "You didn't--"

"Yes I did," He says firmly. Eddie steps into you, closer than he's been before. "I made an asinine comment thinking we were playing our little game, but it's not a game if someone gets hurt, especially you."

Eddie swipes away the tear on your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You looked beautiful. You're always beautiful, but that dress? Honey, I couldn't think straight. I'm a dumbass half the time, but I turned into a god damned Neanderthal when I saw you in that."

Your brain couldn't process what was happening. It almost sounded like Eddie...liked you?

"I thought," You looked down, embarrassed to even say it out loud. "I finally felt pretty, pretty enough to be seen and not just in the background."

Eddie's brow softens at your words, "Mouse, I see you. You're one of the only things I look for throughout the day. Always lookin' out for the pretty shy girl with the smile that makes me go weak in the knees."

You laugh at that. "I guess I always look for the obnoxious metal head that's way too good at getting under my skin."

Eddie chest rumbles with a laugh, too. "You're too good at calling me on my crap, what do you expect me to do?"

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, and it has Eddie clearing his throat. "Can--can I give you a hug? Hate that I made my favorite girl cry."

The smile on your face speaks volumes, but you nod anyway.

When you're wrapped in Eddie's arms, his warmth seeps through your bones, relieving any tension or nerves. His scent invades your senses, warming your belly and heart. You melt into him completely.

Eddie can't believe how well you fit in his arms, like a damn puzzle piece if you asked him. He smells you shampoo, and memorizes the fragrance, filing it away in his mind as his new favorite smell.

When you pull back, he leans his forehead on yours. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I really am."

You nod, moving his head a bit as it rests on yours. "I know."

Eddie steps away, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Ya know, uh, if you're not busy, I'm running a DND campaign tonight. I'd love it if you sat in and maybe after...I don't know, maybe I could take you to Benny's?"

You smirked, eyes narrowing at him. "You asking me out, Munson?"

His eyes widened in sheer panic, "Oh--oh my God, I read this all wrong, huh? Please just forget--"

You're quick to ease his worry. "I'd love too."

Putting the dress on the table, you offer Eddie your hand. "Show me the way, Dungeon Master."

He takes it eagerly, but doesn't walk anywhere yet.

"Eddie?" You giggle.

"One second, princess. Damn knees turned to jelly again."

[brucewaynehater101]

so there's a post or two floating around about Bruce not wanting to be more than a millionaire, of him trying very hard to get rid of his money and ending up a billionaire or even trillionaire anyway

The universe doesn't demand that Tim be ridiculously rich at all times since the universe is of the opinion that he and YJ must remain minors and so rely on their parents/guardians/sketchy scientific creators for financial support. Being a hero isn't cheap and so Tim is actually the primary financial support of his life partners via being involved in Bruce's budgeting just as Bruce is the primary financial support of most of the Justice League.

While the universe doesn't demand that Tim be ridiculously rich at all times, it does demand that he be Bruce's support in some fashion while being overshadowed by his louder siblings. Tim isn't consciously aware of this but when he takes the role of primary shareholder of WE, he's released from being Bruce's emotional support Robin which leaves him a little adrift. He's instead, via the universe, put in the role of creator of wealth for the Wayne family. Tim, being Tim, takes this to extremes and WE actually expands into the greater universe. If a planet is relatively peaceful, there will be at least one branch of WE on that planet that provides jobs and campaigns for the improvement of living standards and causes the Wayne family to be ridiculously wealthy on not just earth but everywhere in the universe where humans can have a reach.

Tim doesn't have a traditional space empire but WE is close enough and even better, he can use the image of Brucie Wayne as a smokescreen of sorts to keep galactic attention away from himself. And the way B has a not quite breakdown, one only obvious to an observant Bat, upon discovering a picture of Brucie Wayne on some random magazine that Hal Jordan brings to a watchtower meeting which lists Brucie Wayne as one of the top ten richest beings on random alien planet makes Tim laugh. He gets the security footage of the incident from the Watchtower. He will take shots from the footage and possibly frame them and give them to his siblings as Christmas presents. Any not Bat who sees the picture will be confused why they have a framed picture of stoic looking Batman. Any Bat that sees the picture will have a hard time not at least smiling at the sight of what is obviously, to them, Batman losing the will to leave and just being Done.

Bruce: (^●_●^)

Tim: 📸

I'm mentally laughing at the image of Bruce crying screaming throwing up at the sight of more zeroes in his bank account.

I dislike wealth disparities, so I'm also imagining Tim trying to give away money the same way someone throws a bucket of water overboard when the ship is sinking. He has lengthy background checks on charities or even creates more social programs to get rid of as much money as he can... which improves people's quality of life, enables them to get jobs at W.E. to earn them money, and provides them income where they can buy W.E. products. Tim's still trying.

This is when Bart gives him the brilliant idea to start doing charity work in space. Surely, since the currency is different, Tim will lose more money than gain. Right?

Wrong :(

[bachibabe]

— Heaven

synopsis: choso never expected spring break to be so difficult, honestly. just a few weeks to relax with his brother and his brothers girlfriend… it sounds like the dream doesn’t it? seeing his brother happy, so in love with you. but heaven for one is hell for another-- and it seems to be your very life goal to make him live with both.

✧*̣̩┊: choso x fem! reader (some itadori x fem! reader)

✧*̣̩┊: wc: 7.0k

✧*̣̩┊: content: dubious consent at times, cnc + full consent at others, switch! reader,switch!choso, dom!reader, sub!choso, nipple play, voyeurism (choso listens to itadori and reader have sex), m!masturbation, pervert choso, massages, blowjob, p in v, overstimulation, multiple creampies, choso is kinda gross, cheating!reader (as far as choso knows), choso is refered to as puppy/cocktoy, degredation (choso receiving), choso degrading himself too, please lmk if I missed any!

✧*̣̩┊: notes: it’s lily! back again with another perverted jjk man! this turned out way longer than i originally thought it was going to be. originally it was just going to end with the masturbation scene buuutttt i got a little carried away :DD i love how this fic came out and i hope you guys do too <33

18+ → minors / blank blogs dni

God, he wants to die. He deserves to. Choso has no right to live after the way he’s been looking at his brother’spretty little girlfriend. He deserves to be jailed for life, eyes gouged out for even considering sending a glance to your ass; bent over grabbing something from a cabinet in the kitchen. Leggings that are too tight, practically transparent. He swears he can see the tinge of your pink panties through them.

He should die. He places his face in his hands, arms propped up as his legs. One of them bouncing in, fuck, he doesn’t know what. Really doesn't know what. He doesn’t think he wants to, honestly. God how did it end up like this? How did he end up here– Itadori perched up on the counter, while you start to work on breakfast. How is he going to make it out alive? How is he going to survive spring break?

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this. When Itadori, his dear, beloved brother called, asking if it was fine to bring his girlfriend home for break, Choso thought nothing of it. Even if he hadn’t met you, Itadori told him plenty. Every conversation he had with his sibling always found itself filled with fond stories of you. The nice date you went on, the delicious food you cooked for him. How horribly you destroyed the poor guy in mario kart. He thought he already knew you— it felt like he did at least.

He could tell the moment you walked into their family home that he didn’t. He had no clue the woman you were. A problem he would never be able to rectify. How terrifying that was for poor Choso. Can you imagine? Your little sweater crop top, unzipped low to put your perfect, pretty breasts on display. Your jeans, fitting just so right around your hips, practically putting your ass centre stage for the world to witness.

He hits his forehead with his hands a few times, trying to get rid of the image of your lips. They were in a pout, gloss on them as your jut out your bottom lip. You kissed his cheeks. Held both of your tiny hands around one of his large ones. 

“Thank you for letting me stay Choso, you’re the best big brother to Itadori ever!” Your voice rang so pretty, shiny, new in his ear drums. A sound he had never heard before invading his senses for the first time. He simply nodded his head, hugging his brother after you took a step back. Introductions were fast, Itadori dragging you off to give you a tour of their family home. It was probably to his benefit, to get you away like that. He didn’t know how long he could hold back the colour rising to his cheeks.

You were beautiful, gorgeous, even. Any adjective in the world to describe your beauty, he would use it. But that would never be enough to make a man like him crack. One with morals, one with some shred of pride. While the interaction left him slightly flustered, he quickly brushed it off of his shoulder. It shouldn’t matter anyway. 

Only it does when you’ve positioned yourself between his legs, tongue between your lip as you put your all into the game of mario kart against the two men. 

“I can’t see the tv from up here!” Your peach voice whined after your second loss in a row. “I’m more comfortable on the floor anyway.” You tell them, a slight pout on your lips. 

“You’re such a sore loser!” Itadori laughs, teasing as you slide yourself onto the floor. Right in front of Choso’s place on the couch. He looks down, eyes increasing in size only a fraction as your frame is incased by either side of his legs. His eyebrows raise, legs shifting farther apart as to not touch you. He wants to be respectful, afterall. 

“Uhg! As if!” You shoot back, a small glare landing on Itadori. Though Choso can tell none of it is serious. Suddenly, before he can think about the action any further, you turn to him. Delicate hand placed on his knee, nails digging into the flesh ever so slightly. Anyone else wouldn’t notice it. But of course Choso does. Of course he had to. Because he's a disgusting pervert who blushes from the touch of a woman. Well, not any woman. Just you.

“You don’t mind, right Choso?” Your voice is practically a purr, eyes filled with nothing but the glow of innocence, “Here’s the only spot that’s comfortable.” God, he swears he sees your tongue flick over your bottom lip, wetting the surface. But he forces himself to shred that to pieces. A trick of the eye. 

He nods his head, “Guests comfort.” He swears, your smile might blind a man. You threw your arm up, a small victory, your body turning back around. 

“‘Sides, Yuuji’s gonna start kicking me when I win anyway. He’s such a baby!” You stick out your tongue in mock disgust, Choso’s face moving into a light smile. 

“Am not!” Itadori argues back, throwing a pilling in your direction. Choso’s smile only grows, catching the pillow right before it lands on your face. Your voice squeals in delight, making a quick, mocking joke back in the direction of Yuuji. 

“He is. A baby in every way. You know when we were younger he used to sing this song–” This time, instead of a pillow, Yuuji throws his body, pinning Choso to the couch. A hand clamped over Choso’s mouth. You break out into something that sounds like music– oh. It’s just your laugh. Choso can’t help himself laughing either. 

Itadori starts laughing as you begin to beg, to do the same song that he had done when he was younger. Eventually he gives in, turning the night into somewhat of a good memory. Even if you remained planted, not daring to move from him even after a movie was put on. Falling asleep, head propped against his leg.

Yuuji carried you to bed that night, Choso retiring not long after.

If Choso was any slower, he would have completely missed the way you looked at his arm. The way your eyes trained to the muscle of it. The way your eyes would sharpen ever so slightly, your teeth almost biting your lip whenever you even gleaned at his calves or thighs. 

If it was just that, he could handle it. Even if he is a man, he’s not primal. He has self control. Even if he found you attractive, that means nothing. Probably. You’re his brothers’. It would be pathetic for him to fall over something so simple. 

Only it wasn’t so simple. It never could be. 

He quickly learned how dangerous you could be when it was just him home. How little you cared for the intricacies of being coy when no one was watching. 

“God your tits are so big~” Your voice feels like a moan in his ear. Your hands wrapped around him from behind, squeezing his pecks. Nails digging into him, so much so that it almost hurt. “It’s no fair…” 

His face is flush, his posture stiff. Stunned into an unmoving demeanour from just how… direct you’re being. That is the best word he can think of for it. At least it is right now when his head is all scrambled at the feeling of your perfect chest pressing into the firm muscles of his back. Your breath right in his ear with every short exhale. 

When he came home from work, tired and useless, the proposition was innocent enough: ‘Ah Choso~ You look so tense from work! That’s no good, you know? Oh! Lemme just give you a little massage yeah? Help you relax right up!’ That look on your face, so docile and cute, didn’t help any retorts he had under his belt. Not to mention, any persistence he thought Yuuji had was far surpassed by you. Begging to give poor, old Choso a massage. Fix his creaky joins and stiff bones.

Maybe it was the wear he had received from an all-too-hard day at the office, or maybe it had been a lapse in judgement from the cloud that seemed to cover him. However the decision came to be, he thought it might be good. A nice chance to finally relax a little.

He had been needing a massage lately, anyway, the certificate Yuuji had bought him rotting away in his closet from his last birthday. Yet, he just didn’t have it in him to actually book the appointment, no matter how desperately he wanted to feel the muscles in his body unwind. Honestly a little nervous to have a stranger's hands on him.

But you aren’t a stranger. You’ve become friends. 

So, when you urge his shirt off, saying that you don’t want it to get all sticky with lotion, he doesn’t fight back. Letting you slight the slightly scratchy material of his dress shirt over his head. He lets your pretty hands work out the hair ties in his locks, allowing the neglected black hair fall over his shoulders. He needs a haircut, he knows it in the way his hair falls a little lower than it ever had before. Plans, yeah. He has lots of things he needs to do. Dinner, cleaning, making sure the report comes in on time. God he doesn't need another lecture from–

“Fuck-” His is sudden, low as you press into one of the knots permeating his back. He hadn’t even expected it to come out. He doesn’t think you did either, based on the little squeal that leaves your throat.

“Did that feel good?” You ask simply, continuing to rub circles deep into his shoulder blades. Your tone light, happy. Probably from helping someone relax, yeah, that's probably it. “I’ve taken a few classes, I was thinking about becoming a masseuse awhile ago.” He knows your glossy lips are smiling.

A breathy exhale leaves his lips, your thumbs digging into another sensitive tangle. “Oh really?” He’s not focusing much anymore. There must be some kind of drug laced in your touch. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You giggle, hands cresting over the tops of his shoulder, gently rubbing his neck. “Mhmm, I’m real good I think.” 

If he responds, he has no clue what he says. Good is an understatement. Your hands must be god's gift to man. That can be the only explanation. No other human could be capable of this, he doesn’t think. Allowing one’s mind to turn into mush with just simple touches of fingers along their back. It shouldn’t be allowed, legal.

He doesn’t know how much time passes as he sits there, letting you work through his back until it's tender. Needing love and affection when it was just broken and reformed by your hands alone. Your nails gently scratch the skin. He’s forgotten who you are, what you are. You are euphoria across his skin. A feeling swelling in his abdomen as he sinks into total relaxation. 

Well, that is at least until suddenly your hands are on his pecks, your voice cooing in his ear as you fondle him like a porno. The innocent delight in granting someone relief has vanished from you, someone else taking your place. His eyes wide open, heart rate as high as the ceiling in a matter of seconds. 

“See and if you just sit like this–” Your left hand moves to his lower back, forcing it to curve just so, “They look even bigger. Have you ever thought about getting them pierced? Then we could be matching~” His brain can’t wrap around your words, nevertheless what they imply. His head has gone a bit fuzzy, finding trouble keeping up in the shift from cloud nine to being in one of the circles of hell. 

Your voice sounds so sweet, yet your body behaves as a different animal.

Your fingertips flick over the nipple, “It doesn’t hurt too bad I swear… and you’d look real pretty with them too.” Your other hand leaves his back, slowly sliding around his hip. Your fingers dance along the contours of his body, finally resting just along his v-line. Thumb gently running itself across the ridge. Not daring to go any lower. Not yet, anyway. 

If he had anything to say, the words are lost in his throat. How could a delicate touch be so sinful? He has no idea. He can’t find himself moving his head, moving away at all really. Stuck in a state of indecision. Hoping the little balls he feels pressing into his back may or may not be the piercings you speak of so fondly covered by one of your too thin tank tops. He isn’t sure which. His brain is blurry, but his body is responding. His pants are beginning to feel stiff. 

“I can show you if you want~” You purr, your voice somehow closer, etching even deeper into his ear. Lodging itself in his brain in a way that he can't ignore. His body grows tense pulling away ever so slightly when your hands suddenly retract entirely. Finding purchase back on his back as if they were never there to begin with.

“Kidding!!” You giggle, patting his back as your too-sweet nature returns like nothing. Once again leaving him a little more confused than he would like to be. “Don’t be silly Choso, I was only playing. Don’t get your panties all up in a twist!” 

And that was the end of it, at least until Yuuji got home. Until he could retire to the privacy of a shower to manage a little issue. One that didn’t seem to want to resolve itself. One that meant his panties stayed in a twist.

Dinner was had like nothing happened. And it didn’t. Because it was all a joke right? So he shouldn’t dwell. Not when Yuuji smiles at you like that. Not when you two seem perfect for each other. 

His feelings on the issue shouldnt matter. And therefore, they don’t. As long as Itadori is happy, as long as he can keep that smile on his little brother's face, nothing else in the world is of importance to him. 

No matter how much he has to endure. However many times he has to apply sunscreen on your bare back, bikini top untied so as to not miss a spot. However many times he feels your ass pressed against him as you slide in front of him in the kitchen. However many times you fall asleep, clinging to his arm on the couch. Breasts pressed against him just so. However many times he has to ignore your subtle, almost streamlined touches. However many times he has to ‘take care of business’ in the privacy of his own room, triggered from nothing more than watching the way you speak. Watching the way your lips move in their pristine little pout. However many times he has to ignore that feeling bubble up in the pits of his gut. 

Choso is a man with patience. The ability to hold himself back.. He is able to be a pillar of fortitude where most would crumble under the pressure. Women aren’t an issue when it comes to him. He can be sweet, the type of man to look at the ceiling when walking up stairs, the type to walk closest to the road. The one that stays sober at company parties to make sure he can keep his co-workers drinks safe. But this is too much– you are too much. Last night was too much. The very cause for his mental breakdown today. 

He’s a disgusting man. One that has crumbled into a pile of rubble for the woman brought onto his doorstep. One that has dragged him deep down to a place he may never find himself recovering from. He’s a freak, awful, pervert. The worst man alive, if he had to guess.

But your moans are a siren’s call. One he was unable to lure himself away from. One he could no longer battle against. 

When he heard the first pitch from his desk, he ignored it. His imagination had to be the culprit. The second, third, however, no. Those had to be real. Right? His doubts were still clear. Yet, as if his body was acting on its own, he found himself befalling in a way that had long been forgotten in his past. A pervy college freshman, planting his knees on his bed, ear pressed deep into the wall. 

He knew that the moment he did it. He couldn't pull himself away. Even though a voice was screaming at him to stop. To go back to his desk and place his headphones firmly in his ears. To stop listening to your beautiful sounds, those that were filled with pleasure. To move away from the wall as the bed on the other side rocked against it. To stop imagining the skin slapping against your own was his. 

He was too far gone. Too far deluded as his hand found his cock, not bothering to pull down his sweatpants. He still had some class, some grace, he liked to think. He wasn’t completely abhorrent. Even as he ran his thumb over the head, feeling the pre-cum. Sliding it around messily as he tried to find some purchase on sanity. 

His hands were too shaky, from nerves or excitement he could not tell. Maybe he didn’t want to. That would be for the best wouldn’t it? His thumb, shakily, almost impatiently teasing him under the guise of starlight. What would you think if you saw him now? Palming his cock while his thumb ran over the almost red head. Trying desperately to conceal any shred of dignity the poor man had left. To try and go back to before his shaky fingers reached below the hem of his sweats. 

As the thrusts from the other room quickened, your pants and moans quickly quelled any lucid thoughts he may have had left. His hand reacting to the sounds, palm finding the base easily. The groan he let out was a mistake, but fear no longer exists. Not in this world. Not with the direction of his hand, the speed of it as it moves from base to tip. Quickly. Tightly. Almost painfully. He was too worked up, too frustrated from everything you had given him before. Almost, yet never enough. This was the last straw. The last piece of clarity he had before he completely fell to ruin. Imagining himself in his brother's place. Imagining how you must feel. 

He’s a complete sicko. But in the moment, he doesn't care. His arm comes up, resting against the wall. His forehead does the same. His nose scrunches, eyes shut tightly as he tries to picture it. Picture you in his bed, your legs wrapped around his hips. Right above his ass. Ankles trying to cross behind him. Yeah, you would be really pretty there, wouldn’t you? 

If your hands were god’s gift, your pussy had to be heaven. He knows it, right? Cause you're his in this little world. His fingers would slide up your lips, spreading you just enough so he could admire you. See how pretty you would look all puffy from his tongue alone. Fuck– his hips jerk in his hand. He won’t last. 

How could he when you’re under him? Right, cause you’re under him. Letting him fuck you. Every gorgeous moan of his brother's name is his own. Just like you said in his ear that night. 

‘Choso, Choso, Choso~’

Does Yuuji eat you out? Fuck your cunt with his fingers first to make sure you’re ready to take him? No, No! Don’t think about him. Bad Choso, don’t be mean to your brother. Don’t think. This isn’t about him. This is about the new reality, the pretty one where you’re a mess, all sweaty and tangled in his sheets. 

Holy fuck. Your voice is suddenly wild, an orchestra he wishes to listen to every night, and his illusions return to him. His hand moving faster, somehow gripping his cock even tighter. This time, however, you’re in control. Pinning him to the bed, his cock buried deep in your pretty, wet hole. You’re not moving, you refuse to. Grinding your hips in slow, deliberate circles to bring him to the precipice, yet not allowing him to fall over the edge. To see the light of day yet never experience it, locked in a battle of wills. Who will fall first, who will beg. Who will be so desperate for release that they can’t do anything else but turn into a messy puddle.

It will be him, you both know it. At least in his head, you do.  

Your voice cracks, and so does his. A groan he barely muffles with his hand is all he allows himself to manage as he hears you fall over the edge into climax. He does the same, imagining he’s buried deep inside, filling you with his cum. You didn’t let him wear a condom, you never would. 

Thick ropes of white cover his hand as he calms down, rejoining the rest of the world. Panting, teeth marks imprinted into his hand from the force of his jaw. 

He’s been spiralling since then. Afraid he’s gone insane, truly. Maybe he should check himself into a psych ward, yes. That would be for the best. Someone like him shouldn’t be allowed on the streets. A pervert like him that gets off on the idea of fucking his little brothers girlfriend shouldn’t be allowed at all. He’s a sick fucking freak. 

You have to know it, don't know? That’s why you’ve been looking at him differently today? Like there’s a little spark that just has to mean that you know, right? Or is he really going crazy? Imagining that too? He doesn’t know anymore. He doesn’t know much at all. The only reality he knows is the chair he’s sitting in, planting his seat in it since the morning. He hasn’t moved since then– his chin resting in his hands, his knees against his elbows as he stares at nothing in a random corner. Thinking about everything, nothing. 

How could he possibly face you? 

The answer to that question has drawn nothing but blanks in his head. Yet it is answered for him that very afternoon. How lucky he is, huh? His brother waving ‘bye’ to hang out with some of his highschool friends. You felt “sick”, claiming an upset tummy so you didn't want to go. Despite his subtle protests that you should tag along with them anyway, he finds himself alone in a house with the object of both his desires and his downfall into depravity.

Luckiest man alive. Yeah. They should say that at his funeral. But he isn’t going to die, not anytime soon at least. 

He knows that well, not moving from his eyes from their spot in the corner. He can’t now, even if he wanted to. Not with you right in front of him– two, maybe three feet at most from his legs. Pearly yoga mat neatly laid across the floor; water bottle, phone, and towel placed neatly beside on standby. Leggings, too tight leggings stretched across your perfect skin. Tits held in place with a matching sports bra. Following along to the workout video. Pretty, alone in your head. 

In downward dog, ass facing him. Mocking him, scandalising the mere thought of looking away from the corner. If he could see all of that from his peripherals alone, there's no telling what he could see– what he wants to see, from straight on. So there he sits, in his corner. Wishing he could be alone in his own. Wishing you didn’t occupy every crevice of his brain matter. Wishing he was a better man. 

His focus has to be made of stone, face scrunched in that annoyed little manner. Lip up in a little tick. If he was staring any harder, a hole would have bored itself into the drywall. If his attention was any less he would’ve noticed you moving closer, sliding backwards on your hands and knees. Pressing your ass against the erection he had been dead set on ignoring. 

A groan resonates through his throat at the contact. Sudden, unavoidable. Here, now. The supple flesh of your ass against him, teasing him. Taunting him in some way he can’t ignore. His eyes shifting quickly to his lap, looking at you in all of your glory. His hands gripping the arms of the chairs, nails embedding themselves in the cushioned material. The place they will find refuge, home for the next few hours. 

His face finally meets yours, eyes connecting as you look at him from over your shoulder. His brows crease, an ounce of confusion overtaking him. You look annoyed… frustrated. Your eyebrows pinched together, venom in your gaze. Fuck. He must’ve messed up. Did he move closer? Did he accidentally pull you towards him when he wasn’t paying attention? Oh fuck, fucking shit. 

Just as the apology starts to leave his lips you huff. Spinning on your knees, moving right between his legs. Looking up at him from his lap. 

“I don’t fucking get you, Choso.” You say, the hiss of a snake practically wrapped around your vocal cords. What are you talking about? What could you possibly mean? He’s the pervert. He’s the one that needs to be jailed for his crimes– not you. You’re the angel. The one who’s brought so much joy to his little brother. 

Before he can respond, before the words even think about leaving the tip of his tongue your hands are on his thighs. Moving upwards, finding purchase on the hem of his sweatpants. Directing him upwards. Pulling his sweats– the same pair as last night, down over his knees. 

“Like, seriously!” Your voice trills in a whine, annoyed. Once again, he can’t move. Can’t find himself wanting to. He wants to experience this, to experience you firsthand. A better man would move, a better man wouldn’t let their most base desires control him. But he is no better than an ant now, following in your lead. 

“Uhg, I do so much work–” Your hand has found its way inside of his boxers now. He wishes he changed them after last night, but it’s too late for wishing now, isn’t it? “And you don’t even make a move?! Like you’re kidding me, right?” 

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know a word that’s leaving your lips. If he thought he did, its vanished by the feeling of your smooth, gentle hands wrapped around his cock. Flicking over it almost painfully, like you want to hurt him. Just a little. Just to get back at him for all the turmoil he’s apparently put you through. 

He’s panting now, breath coming out in short bursts through his nose as he watches your hand. Feels it actually touch his skin. Anything he could have imagined was negligible compared to this. Something that couldn’t be reached by anyone else. No one other than you. 

“I play with you so nice too! I treat you like a good toy!” You whine, seeming to get more and more irritated by the second. More and more irritated that he isn’t responding to your words. His cock jumps, more and more precum collecting at the tip. That seems to make you happy, a cute little hum leaving your lips.

 “You want me. Don’t you Choso?” Your eyes are round, looking up at him almost like a puppy dog. No one could turn you away. No one would ever want to when you look at them like that. A curt nod is all he can manage. All he can force out of his body to do with your hand rubbing his cock in a way that should be illegal. Anything more and he would look like a babbling idiot, he’s sure of it. 

You must have some sympathy, some compassion for the man as you let him go. Pull your hands from his boxers. So down on his luck, the most beautiful girl in the world between his legs. A small smile aids itself to your lips as you speak. 

“Let's get these off of you, yeah?” You hum, fingers gently playing with the ridge of his boxers. He doesn’t fight you, doesn’t retreat as you pull them down. “Aww poor thing, you liked the show a little too much last night, huh? Just a mess, huh? You giggle, mocking the state of his undergarments. The places he just couldn’t get clean enough with a towel. God, he really is gross. 

He’s once again wrapped up in himself. In his own thoughts, thinking of trying to get out of your mocking tone. How to save face in front of what he deems perfection. So much so that he entirely misses the way your eyes widen at his size. Whatever you dreamed of, it could not have been this. It’s too big, too big for most anyone to handle. Longer than your hand, thicker than your fingers could wrap around. Pretty veins running along the left side. 

It could destroy you. But it won’t.

“It’s not like that–” His voice is cut off once again with your tongue. A thick strip painting from base to tip. Tasting his salty skin.

Fuck, he falls back into the chair. Trying to find some facet to cling to so he doesn’t black out into utter hysteria. His fantasies never even touched your mouth. Thought of how it might move across his skin. No, he wouldn’t dare. Yet now that he is living it, experiencing it he knows that it wasn’t meant for him to. The mere knowledge that your lips might wrap around the head of his cock sends him teetering over an edge that shouldn’t exist. 

His hips buck upwards, trying to get a small piece of anything you’re willing to spare. “Ah ah, we can’t get ahead of ourselves, yeah? I deserve this, you know? All for me~” He doesn’t know how a voice as pure as yours can touch him like this. Gripping his cock at its base, squeezing it just enough that it hurts, yet not too much so that it’s uncomfortable. One stroke, two is all you give him. Your wrist flicking over the pretty head, spreading his precum all along his length as lubricant. 

He does all he can to stifle his groans; pretend he isn’t completely falling apart. But your lips lick the head, smiling at the taste. Moving to just take the head inside of your mouth. Slowly moving your head up and down. Watching him, perceiving him. Observing the twitches of his mouth, the brace of his hands, the plant of his feet on the floor. The way his hips beg to move, to piston upwards to fuck your throat dry. Awww~ but it doesn’t look like he can even do that.

His eyes are glossy. Face red up to his ears.You gag, taking in just a little bit more than you were meant too. A smile twitching to your mouth as you finally hear it, the thing you thought you heard last night. Ah, his voice! Who would have thought, truly, that a man could turn into this? 

You did, of course. And ever since first laying eyes on his pale face, his tired eyes, you knew you wanted to do it to him over, and over, and over again. Good thing Yuuji said you could, huh? Even if it took a little begging. 

A choked cry leaves his throat as you pull away. His hips arching, bucking up to try and find relief once again inside of your mouth. He’s desperate, brought back down to his base instincts as a man. A short whisper of a word leaves his throat as you stand, thinking you’re leaving him. Leaving him with nothing but a sore cock once again.

“You’re gonna fill me up good, right puppy?” But you’re not leaving him. You’re pulling off your leggings, panties following suit. You’re crawling onto his lap. Knees balanced against the arm rests as you position your tight, practically dripping hole above his cock. God, you look so needy. Probably are so needy, just wanting him. Only wanting the satisfaction he can provide. 

God, your fingers. They’re spreading your lips so he can see. See just what he’s done from sitting there and taking it like a good boy. He was right. Your body was constructed by the heavens above. Perfect in all its glory. A finger running between your folds, collecting yourself on your fingers. 

“Will it fit?” He asks, though it almost comes out as a plea. Desperate to feel you, to have you wrapped around him. “Let me~” You shush him, fingers sliding into his mouth. Letting him taste you. Taste what he is missing out on.

“Mmm mmm.” You mutter simply, though he’s too distracted. Too distracted until you lower yourself onto him; just enough so the head inside. Just enough so that you can at least try to adjust to the intrusion that he brings. His head is a messy fog. Hips gently rocking, trying to gain some relief while not pushing your poor, under prepared hole.

Your hands on his abdomen as you slowly begin to slide up and down, taking in a little more and more with each motion. Filling you up completely, painfully. Heavenly. His hands find your hips. Soothing the burn, rubbing gentle circles into whatever flesh he can find. Thanking you for not pushing him away. 

“Shit–” The cuss strings past your lips as your hips meet his, a loud groan leaving his own. The light of the living room proving evidence of your sin. 

His eyes look down, finding where your bodies meet, “Fuck me…” He groans, his always tired eyes looking more alert, more at attention than they ever have before. Watching as you rock your hips slowly, deliberately. You only watch him. A sheen of sweat already covering both of your bodies. 

His thumb slides down, finding purchase on your clit. He groans at the sight, rubbing circles into the soft bundle of nerves. He’s not going to last. He knows it. He’s going to completely blow his load before your first bounce on his cock. Fuck, he can’t take it. He knows he won’t be able to with the way you squeeze around him. The way your walls flutter so tight over his length.

God he should have taken his time, urged you to let him eat you out or something so he could have had the chance to calm down. To relax for a moment before his cock was nestled deep inside. Fuck. 

And now you’re moving. The pain subsided, turning into nothing but pleasure. And god he must be leaving holes in the fucking chair, his hands returning to their places on the arm rest. He makes the mistake of looking, watching his cock glide inside your pussy effortlessly. Watching as you make a mess all over his lap. Watching as he makes a mess all over you. 

God and it’s over for him, his head thrown back against the chair. His hips jerking wildly into your wet heat as he fucks his cum deep into your walls. Watch as the room goes white, euphoria filling his senses. 

Shame is all he feels as he drops back against the chair. He’s disappointed you, he knows he has. There is no other explanation. You didn’t get off at all and he's received, well, everything. Apologies tumble from his mouth, over and over again they are spoken. Yet, when he finds your eyes already staring back down at him, there's something off. A fire inside of them, one that refuses to be quelled. 

Your hips don’t stop moving, don't stop the ease of grinding against him. Sliding almost all the way out, just until he can see the start of the head before landing all the way back down. You’re not stopping, and his cock isn’t getting soft.

“Awwww!” You giggle, hands pressing against his pecks, leaning close to his face so he can hear you nice and clear. Hear the smile, the mockery in your tone. “You just couldn’t hold it in huh? What a cute, pathetic little thing!” 

His cock is growing sore, it’s hurting. It’s too sensitive. He can’t take it. He doesn’t want to.

“Don’t worry, yeah? I’m still gonna cum so don’t feel bad, hmm? Just be a good little cock toy.” 

Or does it hurt? Does it feel good? His head arches back, conflicting feelings of both pain and pleasure overtaking his senses. He tries to focus on one or the other, anything really, but he can’t. He can’t do anything but sit there and be good just for you. He knows he wants to do that. It’s the least he can do, right? For being just a wretched, pathetic man. 

Too bad it's so hard to pull away. But you’re addicting, and he can’t help but try to find his fix. No matter how much it hurts, he can’t help but find sparks in the way you move. Your hips moving rapidly, fucking yourself onto his cock without a care for how he might be feeling. How good he must be feeling dancing along the fine line between pain and pleasure, not daring to stick a toe into either side of the tides for fear of not returning. 

Not a care for how you grab his hand, press his thumb against your clit and rub circles until he gets the hint, gaining enough clarity to do it on his own. Your voice is all he can hear through his rough pants, air catching in his throat forming a groan every time you move. Every time you test him, urge him to stop if he can’t take it.

But he will take it. He’ll feed himself to you on a silver platter, apple tied in his mouth if you wanted him to. He takes all of it. Basks in the glow of your pussy finding pleasure in his cock. And once again he can feel the bubble in the pit of his stomach growing, telling him once again that he’s close. So terribly close he doesn’t know how much more he can take. 

So he focuses on your voice– tries to at least. As much as he can while his head is spinning. Filled with clouds and spinning like a cyclone. The beautiful melodic voice he heard when you first arrived. The pristine laugh you let out on the first night. The whines you’d release when he’d rub sunblock into his back, and now the same voice he heard the night before. Chanting his name, whispering it close in his ear. Only this time it’s real. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your moans filling his ear drums. 

His name falling from your lips as you moan about how close you are. About how good he feels. 

Your hips moving faster, harsher against his own than ever before. His thumb pressing against your clit, urging you to your release as he hangs on the precipice of his own. Cock twitching with every menstruation, walls fluttering against him until finally, your hips fall against his own. Your voice letting out a moan, his own doing the same as he releases thick streams of white into your walls for the second time that night. 

You tighten around him, almost unbearably so with how sensitive, how much of a mess the poor man’s cock is. Your hips grinding gently, coaxing the both of you through your orgasms until bodies fall against one another. The waves of pleasure soothing into a gentle tide, neither of you moving to remove yourselves from the other. 

Your head rests against his shoulder, his hand coming up to hold the back of your neck gently. To keep you there, to bask in the moment before the timer comes to an end and he realises what he has done. What the both of you have done. He should panic. He should. But all of the energy is sucked dry from his body. He can’t move, he doesn’t want to. Not when his cock is still tucked deep inside of you. When he can still feel you. 

After the glow has faded and only sweaty bodies are left in the room you get up, though he isn’t entirely sure when. His eyelids heavy, falling down no matter how hard he tries to keep them awake. 

When he wakes up, nothing is amiss. His pants are up, his hair is combed. You and Yuuji are sitting happily on the couch watching a movie. Was it all a dream? No, no it couldn’t have been. That doesn’t make sense. He knows it was real. He knows it. 

“Morning.” Itadori smiles, noticing his big brother awake. Looking around the room in utter shock and confusion. His eyes slowly drift to the both of you, Yuuji’s arm tucked around your shoulders like nothing. 

The knowing smile you give him is all the evidence he needs that it was real. 

“We didn’t wake you up, right?” You ask innocently, head tilting to the side. He shakes his head, still in a bit of shock.  “Good, good…” you sing song, turning your attention back to the tv with ease. 

“Did you wanna tell him the good news or should I?” Yuuji asks, looking over to you with that confident smile he always has on his face. The smile Choso loves. The one he wants to protect and keep safe as his big brother. 

“Me! Me!” You say excitedly, almost bouncing in your seat. “Yuuji invited me to stay over the summer too! Isn’t that amazing?!”

Choso is going to die. For real this time.

[willows-peak]

*･ﾟ✧ Sending Pics To Nanami

tags: fem! reader, established relationship, male masturbation, nanami fantasizes about you a lot, hand jobs, oral (m recieving), fingering, nanami fat cock truther, pet names (princess, dear, baby, sweetheart, beautiful) nanami talking you through it, mating press, overstim

word count: 2.6k

MDNI

a/n: i saw this drawing right here and almost imploded from horniness. enjoy

⋆｡˚ ♡ Nanami grunted as he nearly slammed the door of his house shut, his body falling against the cold wood as he breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he was home. Home from the bright school lights, lessons all filed away and paperwork confirming the exorcism of all the curses he'd gotten rid of finished and forgotten about. While that alone would be enough to stress anyone out, he had the added pressure of his pants becoming impossibly tight this morning, thanks to you, and this little 'problem' managed to follow him through the whole day.

Nanami never tried to pretend you didn't have an effect on him, but sometimes, he was made aware of it at the worst of times like today.

You <3

> *4 image attachments*

> "good morning baby :) i've missed you all day, this trip is taking forever to be overr"

Nanami groaned under his breath as he stared at the photos you'd sent, wishing for a second he could reach through his screen and tear off the panties and shirt you were wearing, his shirt no less. Photos highlighting the beautiful way your body curved out around your hips, your thighs pooling out from the position you had yourself in. Shirt pulled up just enough for him to see your breasts falling out from the loose fitting fabric, your face making it into the frame enough for him to see your adorably pouty lips.

Nanami

> "You look gorgeous, dear. I miss you too, we can talk after work today."

His tone over text was always calm, and to the point. If you didn't know him, you wouldn't ever guess he was palming his half hard erection through his slacks, sighing out your name into his empty room as he stared at the phone in his hands, not even risking blinking in fear of missing the details of your body.

But, just his luck. His eyes regretfully broke contact for a moment, long enough to see the time at the corner of his phone. He'd risk running late if he didn't finish getting dressed, regardless of the hard on he was sporting now. So, he was all but forced to readjust his cock up to his shirt, making sure it was unnoticeable before zipping up his pants and hurriedly throwing on his jacket to his car.

And, being the responsible and collected man he is, he didn't even entertain the idea of getting off in any nearby bathrooms or break rooms, even when the throbbing of his hard on was making his brain cells fuzz out by the minute. You really did have him wrapped around your little finger, just a few pictures and he was glaring daggers at the clock sitting next to his desk. Your body didn't leave his mind the entire day, Nanami thanking whatever granted him mercy that today wasn't a day he'd have to speak to anyone, because by god was that not in his available schedule right now.

His hands clenched together as another flash of your naked breasts ran through his mind, everything in him almost screaming to come up with an excuse to leave early and fuck his fists to you until he could calm down. Try and pretend it was your pussy tightening around him as he pushed you into another orgasm, a thick ring of cream forming around the base of his cock as he fucked you though your release-

Nanami threw his head back in frustration as his cock twitched yet again, grumbling and forcing his mind to focus on the work in front of him.

~☆.｡.*

The moan that fell from Nanami's lips at the feeling of his thick hand groping his bulge almost startled him, temporarily making him lucid enough to move to his bedroom to take care of himself. at least he already had tissues in there..

His jacket was the first to be torn off his body, being tossed carelessly to the otherwise tidy floor beside his dresser, his goggles joining the small pile soon afterwards. The cold air of his room washed over him for all but a moment before the overwhelming heat of arousal came back to him, making him hastily unbutton his shirt while he reached for his tie, wrapped snug around his neck. A light sheen of sweat had formed on his chest, tiny droplets clinging to the short hair sitting on the valley of them. He swore through clenched teeth as he threw the thin piece of cloth to the side as well.

Without the support of his boxers, his cock leaned down into the air in front of him, the tips of his fingers able to feel the soft pulsing of the bulging vein resting on its side. He almost felt remorse at the way his hand could so easily wrap around his girth, large fingers reaching base to tip too quickly for his liking. It was nothing like how you did it, your smaller hands struggling to make your fingertips meet as you stroked him as best as you could.

Nanami's hands clambered in his pockets before pulling out his phone, the screen warm from the contact of his thigh all day long. He knew he wouldn't be able to relieve himself without seeing you, not when you were the one who made him like this in the first place. Your photos sat there, unchanged and making his already foggy head spin wildly. He'd left the page of your messages stuck on his screen in his morning rush to work, not daring to close out and lose the sight of your perfect body sitting pretty all for him.

He fumbled with his zipper for a quick second before getting it down, his button popping off and allowing the tough fabric to fall down to the middle of his thighs. "That's right.." he muttered, his hand freely squeezing and stroking over his boxer covered dick now. With the awkward angle it had been adjusted to, the waistband of his underwear had been stained with pre cum, a thin strand of the liquid connecting his tip to the bottom of his abdomen. A quiet 'fuck' made its way out of his lips as his hand pulled the wet fabric down, his cock finally free from its restraints.

And you'd always try so hard, too. your brows would furrow as you tried your best to make your hand fit around him, squeezing down near the base where he was thickest before letting up at his tip. Your other hand was almost always occupied as well, either joining to work his shaft while you slowly licked across the slit of his head, or reaching down to massage his heavy balls and meeting his hungry gaze with your needy one.

Nanami's brow lowered as he pumped his cock, a rough and quick pace as the tension throughout his body didn't seem to go away just yet. He squeezed the now red tip of his length, a droplet of pre cum coming out and painting his hand. The hand that was wrapped around himself now reached to his side where a small bottle of lotion rested, pumping out a few globs before slathering it across himself. As his hand continued squeezing and rubbing up and down, his mind continued wandering to how you worked your mouth around him.

How your mouth would so slowly wrap around him, inch by inch sinking into your mouth and down your throat as his hand came to rest in your hair, playing with it while your nose eventually came to meet with the thin patch of blond hair around his cock. Your pretty lips would be so stretched, too, lines of drool forming and falling freely as he'd use the grip on your hair to carefully move your head backwards.

~☆.｡.*

Your tongue would curl up and caress the underside of his cock, Nanami feeling the way you'd smile when he'd moan your name under his breath. Your throat was so tight, deliciously constricting around him every time he'd push your head back forwards. The way he could catch glances at your fingers rubbing against your pussy through your shorts, cut off moans and sloppy half gags echoing through the room as he held your head still in favor of fucking your throat himself. And you'd take it all, eyes dusting over with tears from the pressure and looking up at Nanami through your long, and soft lashes.

Nanami has slumped down onto the floor at this point, groaning and panting into the thick air surrounding him as he stared at the photos on his screen. The fact that you were wearing his shirt of all things was lighting a flame in him he didn't know he had, his eyelids lowering as his memory gifted him with the last time you'd worn his shirt around him. How it so quickly devolved into you, nestled onto your bed with your legs spread wide and whining at Nanami to fuck you already. His fingers were smoothly scissoring inside of you, a quiet squelching noise reaching your ears and making you flush.

And he'd always feel so bad afterwards, when he could see the aftermath on your face. Cheeks wet with drool and tears, taking deep and short breaths through your puffy lips with his cum making them glisten brightly. But you would always smile up at him, thanking him with a raspy voice and leaning into his palm as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, wiping away any remnants of his cum from your soft lips.

~☆.｡.*

He was resting against your neck, pressing small and casual kisses all across the skin as he shushed you gently. "I've got you princess, it's ok.. you know you need this" he reminded you, chuckling at the way you tightened around his fingers from the basey purr of his voice right next to your ear. Through more begs and whimpers of his name, Nanami would eventually deem you stretched out enough and finally push himself into your wet cunt. And it would always take every amount of restraint he possessed to not move, a true gentleman to the end for you.

"Nanamiii....s' too bigg..'' You squeaked out, hands now tightly holding your thighs to your chest as Nanami bottomed out inside you. But he knew you could do this, you've taken him countless times before, you could do it again. And he would hold your face with his steady palms, pressing his lips to yours as he talked you through the adjustment.

“That’s right, beautiful, relax for me.”

“Breathe for me, in through your nose, out through your mouth”

“You’re doing so well for me..”

“I’m right here baby, I’ve got you”

~☆.｡.*

“Stay with me, sweetheart…Theerre she is”

“Move your hips down, show me how you want it.”

“I know dear, I know.” while he brushes stray strands of hair out of your warm and flushed face.

His hand came down hard to the base of his dick, the wet sound of his precum and the lotion almost mimicking the way your pussy would sound as he bullied himself into you. The way you’d squeak and moan out loudly as his hips snapped down into you, thighs quivering from strain but you would still hold them up for him as he fucked you senseless. Nanami could never get enough of the way your mouth would fall open into an ‘O’ shape as he fucked into you, the head of his cock rubbing up against your g-spot with such precision that you couldn’t hope to last long.

“Fuck, n-nanamiii, don’t- oh m-my god, don’ sstop, ye-es” your eyes could never stay facing forwards when he was fucking you like this, his hips pistoning deeper inside you with every thrust it felt like, his hands tightly gripping onto your hips as he yanked you up and down to meet his thrusts halfway. Sweat started to form on his forehead, abs clenching as he took breaths through gritted teeth. “Stay still, don’t run from this…” he’d growl out, your body squirming around too much for him to fuck you properly.

~☆.｡.*

Nanami, through bucks into his hand and husky calls of your name, fails to notice his fingers hovering dangerously close to the call button next to your profile. You were so close, at the mere press of a finger he would be able to hear your sweet voice again, regardless of the poor quality of the phone’s speaker. He could feel himself growing close, his stomach tightening and his body curling into itself as he fucked his fist for you.

“Jus’ like that, fuck yes..” he whispered to himself, his grip loosening on his phone as he let his eyes close. His fantasies were much too strong to rip away from, especially from how well he remembered the feeling of your wetness dripping out of you onto his balls. And how your hole would try and suck him in when you got close, weakly pulsing around him as you messily begged him to make you cum. “Kento, kento, b-baby, ple-ase i need it, don’ stop-” your sentences were hurried, words being constantly thrown together and cut off by moans and cries as Nanami pushed into you.

His thumb found your clit with practiced ease, rubbing rough circles against it and relishing in the way your shut tight eyes would shoot open in surprise and then roll back with overwhelming pleasure, head tossing back and your back arching as you came around Nanami. Your cum dripped and oozed out of your stretched wide hole and coating Nanami’s cock as he fucked you through it, shushing you and holding you with his free arm as you shook and whimpered out.

“Shhh, t-take it baby, just like that.. Feels good huh?” he’d ask, grinning at the way you choked out a yes and nodded up at him, your body still racked with the aftershocks of your orgasm along with his mean thrusts. “Inside, innsidee, k’nto, give it t’ me, i wan’ itt, oh gggodd-” you’d cry out, sniffling and squirming back at the overstimulation starting to set in. Thankfully for you, Nanami could never last long when you came like this.

~☆.｡.*

A loud moan left Nanami’s lips as his cock throbbed harshly, his orgasm crashing down on him as thick ropes of cum beaded out of his dark red head, covering his palm and thumb as he continued to move his hips up into his hand through his orgasm. His head came to rest against the hard wood of his door, his orgasm slowly tapering down as his body was drained of energy. He let out a long, broken sigh, his hips finally stilling and letting his cock rest on his palm.

He took a minute or so to catch his breath, using the arm that held his phone to wipe his mouth of the drool that managed to escape his lips when he left them parted. Blowing out a deep sigh, he glanced down at the mess he’d made between his legs and noted that his cum had thankfully stayed to the floor and his thighs, avoiding his pants or his belt. His phone blinked silently, indicating he’d received a message. He scoffed out in annoyance, automatically assuming it to be Gojo or his supervisor informing him of yet another week’s worth of filing he was assigned to.

He slid his lockscreen open, noticing the notification had been from you when checking and fixing the scowl that unknowingly made it on his face.

You <3

> 2 images, 1 video

> sorry, i’ve been needy all day without you :(

Nanami, after a few seconds of silently staring at the unopened video, decided to skip the formalities of replying and instead pressed the call icon after seeing you begin to type. 

[eternalmoonlight18]

Please Please Please (Don't Prove Em Right)

Trafalgar Law x afab Female!Reader

Next Chapter

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Sunday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Notes: This is my very first fanfiction!

As you would have guessed, the title is based on the song Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter. It's like a more lighthearted reimagining of the song!

I'm mostly writing this for self-indulgence but I hope you guys like it as well :)

Chapter 1: Ice Water Poker

Chapter summary: you thought playing Ice Water Poker was a great idea until you injured yourself and almost damaged the Polar Tang. Law decides that he's almost had enough of your shenanigans.

You hated the infirmary.

The bleak walls, the soft crinkle of the paper on top of the infirmary bed, and the fact that all of the medical equipment was just lying out in the open made it uncomfortable to be in the room.

You hated the infirmary, but you were there every day because of your endless carelessness and schemes against the Heart Pirates.

But you weren't an enemy to them, you in fact, were their beloved cook. You became the Heart Pirate’s cook just over a year ago, and it wasn’t because they loved your cooking. It’s because none of them can cook for shit and you felt bad for them. When you first met them, they were eating overcooked rice and burnt fish. You soon learned that those were Law’s favourite foods, but by great Neptune's Beard, it tasted terrible. So you decided (forcibly) to join the crew out of pity, out of Law's dismay.

However, you weren't new to the pirate life. You were a pirate before you met them, as you used to be in Kidd’s crew as their cook. But things got complicated so you ditched them. And by complicated, it meant that you accidentally food-poisoned Kidd and he was going to kill you the next time he saw you.

And so a year later, you were with the Heart Pirates. You loved it. You had a great kitchen to work with, and the crew loved every meal you made. Law was a great captain and you greatly respected him. You eventually gained his respect since you always cooked what he requested. And not only you were a cook, but you were also a decent fighter. You specialized as a sniper, which Law saw as a great asset to the crew.

You were a great cook, and you loved what you did, and you wouldn't trade it for anything else. 

But the only issue was that you got bored when you were not cooking. And so, you cured that boredom by doing what you do second best: being a gremlin.

At least that’s what Law called you. You would say it’s more like being the only sole entertainer in this damn submarine. The Polar Tang was so boring sometimes and you decided that a little fun might cheer things about around the crew. But as often as you did ridiculous stunts in the submarine, you also often found yourself sitting in the infirmary bed with your captain tending to your injuries.

And that’s how you found yourself in the infirmary for the 5th time in a week. And Law was not amused at all.

“So tell me,” Law said while he calmly walked in front of you as you were sitting on the bed. He stopped to face you. “Why the FUCK do you, Penguin and Shachi all have large gashes on the forehead?!” he yelled. He glared looked at you, then whipped his head to glare at the two men beside the bed. 

The scab on your palms suddenly became very interesting so you decided to stare and pick at it. To your left were Penguin and Shachi standing nervously next to the bed and both faced opposite ways, away from the doctor.

Law started to get irritated. “I asked you a question (Y/n)-ya,” he instructed.

You let out a small nervous laugh and looked up at the doctor. Penguin and Shachi also laughed.

“Well you see captain, we were all playing strip poker.” Penguin started. Law’s eyes narrowed at the man. Shachi continued after Penguin, “B-but instead of stripping, we had to dump a bucket of ice water whenever we placed the wrong bet. But then (Y/n) got mad because she was losing and filled up two buckets of ice water to dump on us, but she ended up slipping and hit both Penguin and me on the forehead with the bucket as she fell.”

You suddenly froze and realized you just got snitched on. You glared at the two men who for some reason also suddenly realized that they snitched, and they both quickly looked away from you.

“You fucking snitches!” you exclaimed. “You are so getting burnt food tonight.”

"But that's not fair..." Penguin and Shachi both mumbled. 

Law sighed heavily. He rubbed his temples with his tattooed fingers, most likely out of annoyance. “Shut up, all of you. So let me get this straight, all three of you decided that it was a good idea to dump water onto my submarine’s floors because of a card game. And I don’t care that you idiots are injured; have you considered the fact that the water can leak into the boiler room?!”

And as if on cue, the Polar Tang started to make a strange groaning noise. The four of you in the infirmary froze. A vein popped on Law's head as he suddenly began to shake in anger.

Seeing your captain angry, Penguin, Shachi and you all looked at each other. You were all thinking of the same thing. You all made a run for it. All three of you dashed for the door and ran out of the infirmary.

"Hey!! You bastards better come back here!!" Law shouted as he realized his troublesome crew left.

“Oh, we’re so dead! Captain is going to kill us!” Penguin exclaimed as he ran.

"Forget captain, I think the Tang is going to explode and kill us!" Shachi argued.

"Both of you shut up!" You shouted. "Let's hide before-" You were cut off because you and the two men were suddenly transported into the infirmary. A large thud was heard when you three landed on your asses on the feet of a very angry sea captain. All three of you groaned in pain from the impact. You slowly looked up and saw the death glare of your captain, staring down at you. You felt uneasy shivers down your spine and heard the two men gulp behind you.

"You all had the stomach to run away from me huh?" He darkly chuckled.

The three of you started to shake with fear. For the first time, you genuinely pissed the man off and you instantly regretted it.

"Hey captain, don't worry! We'll fix the boiler room right now!" you said shakily.

The raven-haired man raised his eyebrows at the comment. "Oh? And how can you do that with your current state?" he questioned you.

You were wondering why he gave you a strange look until you felt something wet and cold on your forehead. You instantly brought up your left hand to touch it and saw that you started bleeding from the gash. Then you blacked out. The last thing you heard was Penguin's unusually high-pitched scream before your head hit the floor.

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

You woke up to the smell of black tea. You slowly opened up your eyes and felt disoriented and cold. When you fully opened your eyes, you found yourself staring at the mute grey ceiling above you. You were still in the infirmary.

"Fuck." you thought. "This might be the worst day of my life."

You slowly got up to sit. You groaned in pain as you felt a sharp pain on the side of your head. You glanced at the table in front of you and looked at the steaming mug of hot tea. Then as you turned to let your legs down on the side of the bed, you glanced to the right of the bed and saw your captain sitting in his examiner chair with his legs crossed. While he looked at you with a neutral face, his eyes were unreadable.

"So you finally decided to wake up (Y/n)-ya. I was starting to think that we needed to find another cook," he said, dripped with sarcasm.

You squinted your eyes at him. "As if you could find one, I'm sure no one wants to cook for your shitty crew." you retorted.

Law ignored your comment and got up from his chair to walk towards you. You noticed that he was getting closer so you scooted back further into the wall behind you. The doctor placed both of his tattooed hands on the bed, trapping you in the box of his arms. Never breaking eye contact, he leaned his face into yours and stared at you with an annoyed smirk. "I usually don't mind your antics on my submarine but you have gone too far this time." he lowly said.

You ignored his words. Instead, you scrunched your nose. "Your breath smells like grilled fish captain," you said.

Law was suddenly taken aback by your random comment, his face twisting into an irritated scowl.

"The next time you pull another stunt like this, I'm throwing you overboard. I don't care if we're eating rocks for weeks."

"But I don't know how to swim."

"I don't care. Why are you out at sea then if you don't know how to swim?"

"But you can't even swim either captain, you'd sink like a rock if you fell in. I wouldn't talk if I were you."

Law scoffed. He couldn't argue with that comment. You were pushing his buttons and he didn't know whether to laugh or throw you out of the submarine.

Law kept staring into you and you kept staring back. This was the first time seeing his face up close and you saw how handsome he was for the first time. His small sweep of bangs along with his sideburns perfectly shape his rugged face. But what caught your attention was his grey eyes. You observed how tired his eyes looked, but your intuition told you that it was more than physical tiredness that was getting to him. You could feel the unknown emotional battles he was facing through his stormy grey eyes as if he was looking for answers he could not find. You found them unusually beautiful.

You broke the silence and suddenly blurted out;

"You have very pretty eyes, captain."

This time he was completely bewildered by your comment. Law blinked at you and his eyebrows slowly relaxed. His eyes slightly widened and he took a small step back. His mouth suddenly gaped slightly open and he felt his ears heat up.

"What are you talking about (Y/n)-ya?" he coughed. He completely broke out of his stern and facade and turned into a flustered mess.

However, you remained oblivious to the consequences of your words. You tilted your head to the left curiously.

"Why are your ears red? Are you getting a fever?" you questioned. The doctor stepped back even more but straightened up his composure. He was the captain of this crew and a feared pirate in the seas. He was not about to lose his image over his subordinate. Realizing that he was flustered, he quickly became angry again.

You'd think that a 25-year-old man would know how to properly regulate his feelings, but Law's display of emotional confusion would prove otherwise.

He finally blew up. "Enough! You caused too much chaos today. I'm punishing you for being reckless again." Law ordered.

While his tone of voice was stern, his face said otherwise. "Are you going to throw me overboard?" you teased. "Or are you going to make me fix the boiler room with Penguin and Shachi?"

You snickered and started to grin. You didn't care at all because you always got out of trouble. Penguin and Shachi said it's because the captain had a soft spot for you, but you think that Law accepts the fact that he has no choice but to keep you if he wants to eat edible good food.

Law placed two fingers on his chin and put some thought into the question. Then he smirked mischievously. "No. I got something worse."

There was a pregnant pause. Then he spoke again; "You're going to make me a week's batch of rice balls for me." he proclaimed.

The colour drained from your face. You hated making rice balls. It may be the captain's favourite, but it took forever to prepare and make. Now he wants you to make a week's batch worth of it? You understood that he was mad but he was taking his anger too far.

"I'd rather jump out and drown!" you protested.

"I'd like to see you try." Law retorted. "That's what you get for damaging my submarine!"

The man did have a point. You admit that sometimes your escapades can be too. much.

You pouted in defeat. "Fine. I'll do it," you said. You hopped off the medical bed and proceeded to walk out of the infirmary. You were in a bad mood, and you were going to beat the living hell out of Penguin and Shachi for snitching on you.

"I'm going to put flour and bread in those rice balls," you mumbled as you walked out the door.

"What was that?" Law asked. "Nothing!" you said out of fake cheer. You stomped away and headed to the kitchen. The captain extinguished your playful spirit in the meanwhile, but you'd be back.

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

Back at the infirmary, Law sighed. He took off his hat and placed it on the bed, then sat down in his chair. He brought his left hand and combed through his hair as he leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. Today's set of events was just too much for him.

As he closed his eyes, your previous words rang in his ears.

"You have very pretty eyes, captain."

The tattooed doctor's ears turned red again. "What am I going to do with you (Y/n)-ya?" He sighed.

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

EXTRA SCENE

It was midnight in the Polar Tang. Everyone went to bed. It was one of those few moments when the submarine was quiet enough to hear the hum of the sub's engine.

While everyone was asleep, the captain was in his quarters, wide awake. He was finishing up his crew's recent medical reports and your medical file. He was always stressed about updating it because you were getting injured every single day.

Law stacked up the final pages of the report and set them aside. He got up from his desk and stretched. He let out a big groan, a signal of his tiredness. Then he remembered that you were making his favourite food, rice balls, as a punishment and grinned. He was looking forward to eating a good snack before he headed to bed.

He carefully and quietly made his way to the submarine's kitchen. As he entered the room, he saw that you laid out a plate of 3 rice balls on the dining table. The doctor excitedly walked up and grabbed one of the rice balls. He eyed it for a second, like it was the last meal he was ever going to take, then took a big bite of the food you prepared, expecting to be thrown into a world of indulgence.

However, he instantly regretted his actions. He turned blue, spat out the food and coughed like he had the flu. He should've known better than to take a very inviting plate of rice balls in the kitchen that you prepared. It was like luring a fish with bait and the great Surgeon of Death, Trafalgar Law, fell for it.

He was so going to throw you out to the sea in the morning.

[quibbs126]

So I’ve been making this

So basically last night, I was listening to some music, specifically Not Gonna Die by Skillet, more specifically a version on YouTube with the intro (because I’m not the biggest fan of Good to be Alive where the intro actually is). Anyways, when it’s night, my imagination tends to be more active and I tend to have more energy. While listening to the song, I eventually got this mental image in my mind of this scene with Dark Choco, and the more it crystallized the more I wanted to draw it. I was going to go to sleep and maybe do it in the morning, but I realized that I probably would forget the vibe and not have as much energy, so instead I decided to power through and draw the idea

It was a bit difficult since I had limited references for the pose I wanted, and I suppose I can admit the sword looks a bit off anatomically, but it looks good enough I think, and lets me keep the eyes revealed

I did eventually have to stop drawing, because my iPad had been worked all the way down to 4% (and it was at 30% when I started, the poor thing), not to mention it was around 11:30 already which is pretty late for me, and my earbuds had been running nonstop for over 2 hours (yes I was listening to the same song, it’s how I keep the vibe). I was at least able to get the pose, base colors and lineart done, and I’m still pretty proud of where I left things last night

Today was mostly just doing the background and lighting, which admittedly I may have fumbled. I’m not very good at backgrounds and I didn’t know how to draw lightning. I tried my best, but honestly I don’t think I got the image in my head. Didn’t help that my brain was playing the wrong Skillet song this morning

Oh yeah and by the way, the background is supposed to be from this. That’s what I used as reference

The lightning both feels like too much and too little. Like, it’s crowding the picture, and I can’t have more because it’d be way too crowded with it, but also at the same time, it doesn’t feel like enough, like there isn’t as much power as I wanted

Actually wait, maybe I can add some small particle effects to like, enhance the lightning feel. That was in the original sketch but I omitted it in the final. If you see one with that, you know I did that

Edit: I did indeed do that

To be fair though, I don’t think I have the art skill to properly convey the image in my head. Basically the scene is that Dark Choco is using absolutely every amount of his power for this final swing down, so much that it’s too powerful and the Strawberry Jam Sword completely shatters. But also it’s too powerful that Dark Choco’s body simply can’t handle it, and he basically ends up exploding. The scene depicted would be the wind up to that final swing that destroys the both of them

This isn’t necessarily the first time I’ve come up with this scenario, and the setup would basically be that he turned on the Cookies of Darkness slightly earlier, because he didn’t want to destroy his homeland again, and he tried to get rid of them while in the kingdom but not yet at the Citadel, but he ended up failing, so with nothing to lose, he chases after them and decides to put everything into destroying them, even if it likely ends in his death. After this he probably killed Pomegranate and crippled Licorice in some way (I don’t think he’d attack Poison Mushroom), so his final act did have some effect, but he’s still dead by the end of it. And he and his father never got the chance to properly reconcile because Dark Choco thought that could never be a possibility anymore and he had resigned himself to his fate

But yeah, I just don’t know how to convey that sheer overwhelming power and emotion that this scenario suggests. I tried my best though

I also want to submit this to the Dark Cacao Forever contest, but I’m not sure if it’s good enough for it. What do you think?

[notjustjavierpena]

Doesn’t javier’s wife get tantrums when she is pregnant?

Unreasonable (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: She sure as fuck does. Javier is too in love with the idea of her carrying his child to get mad about it though.

Summary: First-time pregnancy and a husband who breathes a little too loudly is enough to make you rage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic, pregnancy and all the following symptoms (e.g. puking), pregnancy rage, cravings, kisses, reader is hormonal and unreasonable

Word count: 1.5k

Unreasonable

“Could you breathe a little louder?” You ask from the bed. You throw your novel to the side, unable to concentrate, while sending daggers in your husband’s direction. 

You are sitting against the headboard of your bed with all the decoration pillows scattered across the sheets, unable to find one that seems to do the job of supporting your aching back during your first pregnancy. This second trimester is hell on Earth; morning sickness, sore breasts and back, hormones running amok in your system, and no way of getting comfortable. It doesn’t help that Javier seems physically unbothered, daring to move around with ease in your shared home while folding laundry. 

“Honey,” he says gently, turning towards you with a smile that you find provoking, “I’m not breathing differently than I usually do.”

You seethe from your position because you know he is right. The book you were reading amongst several candy wrappers lies face down next to you as if it’s hiding before Javier has figured that is what he should be doing too. You cross your arms over your chest but your boobs feel too big and sore for you to do it the way you normally would. Every instinct in your mind is telling you to attack because you have no way of seeming reasonable in this, “Do you have to squeeze a soccer ball out of your pussy in three months?”

Javier raises his eyebrows at your crude choice of words and your terrifying mental image, “No…”

“That’s right,” you huff and then suddenly you are off into a scolding interrogation that Javier can do nothing about but endure. Your stare can freeze the sun, “Let’s see. Do you have to pee all the time?”

“No…”

You go on, “Do you find yourself crying over commercials on the TV with no way of stopping it?”

“No.” 

“What about your pelvic floor?” You think smoke might be coming out of your ears, “Do you feel like it is going to rupture when you try to reach something you have dropped on the floor?”

“Honey…”

“Does your back hurt so much that you contemplate if it’s easier to just pee your pants instead of getting up?” You ask. Ironically, you have the biggest urge to get up and pace around the room like a caged animal.

“I could massage your back,” he suggests so sweetly but not even that can calm your rage. 

“Haven’t you done enough?” You growl, “This is your little fucking love-goblin growing inside of me and all you had to do was grunt like a caveman and roll over.”

Javier blinks, trying a feeble protest, “Baby… I don’t think tha—“

“Don’t you ‘Baby’ me!” You rage against him, heart beating rapidly in your chest, “I am here either suffering in bed or waddling around like a goddamn incubator! The least you can do is try to make me feel better!” 

“I just offered a massage that you declined so maybe you want some time for yourself instead?” He tries again.

“Time for myself? How on Earth am I supposed to spend time for myself when you are breathing so loudly that our neighbors can hear it?” You avoid his gaze. 

He opens his mouth to speak but you are not done.

“Not to mention the nausea that follows me everywhere I go. Quality time with good old nausea!” You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation, “If I had a dollar for every time I have puked up my guts since you put this baby in me, I could buy myself a private island and be rid of your wheezing airways!”

You inhale deeply and frantically as you run out of breath. It’s then you decide that you are done, scooting further down on the bed to lie down on your side with one of the pillows supporting your pregnant belly. 

You fume quietly. Javier stands immovable. 

Eventually, you pout too. Your husband moves to stand by your side but he doesn’t touch you, “How about we order some food? Do you want to order some food?”

“Actually, Javi, no, I don’t want to order some food,” you reply, still with an attitude. 

“Are you sure, baby?” He gently presses on. 

“Yes, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t say it.”

“I’m gonna order some food for myself then,” he lets you know, walking back to pick up the laundry basket. 

“Yes, fine, whatever,” you sigh loudly, “I don’t care.”

But you do care. As soon as the doorbell rings with Javier’s food delivery, you have thought about the million different things that he might have gotten for himself to eat and it has caused your stomach to rumble. You pout for real this time. 

Eventually, it becomes too much and you get onto your feet, tiptoeing down the stairs to satisfy your curiosity. You don’t need the food; you just want to see if your guesses about Javier’s dinner menu are correct.

You peek out from behind the door frame, staring into the kitchen where he is placing the delivery bag on the counter. The whole house smells like pizza and fried food, the scent having dragged you downstairs to gaze longingly as your husband is rummaging through the plastic bag to empty it of its contents. 

You spot the box of french fries next to a strawberry milkshake and frown, shifting slightly where you stand and trying not to feel emotional about your stomach growling for food. You lean your cheek against the doorframe and sigh loudly. 

“Hola, mi amor (hello, my love),” your husband suddenly says and even if you purposely made him aware of your presence in the room, you still feel on the spot when he notices you. 

“Hi,” you try to get a better glimpse of what he has ordered for himself, “What are you having?”

“I decided on that pizza place on the corner where you also get your haircut sometimes,” he says nonchalantly and you curse your emotions for getting the better of you earlier. You love that place. 

“Really?” You whimper. 

“Yeah,” he continues and stuffs a few fries into his mouth as he takes out a pizza box from the bag, “I really wanted one of their shakes. You know… the ones made from three scoops of ice cream? And then I thought I might as well get some fries because you taught me about dipping them into it, remember that?”

“Y-yeah,” you suddenly feel your bottom lip starting to tremble. The idea of not having a strawberry shake in your hand and their pepperoni pizza with a stuffed crust is close to torture, making you so unbelievably upset that you start to cry big and ugly tears. 

Javier tenses. He abandons the food on the counter the second he hears you, taking long steps to get to you quickly. He wipes his fingers in his shirt so he can brush tears away from your face, cooing softly as you wail, “Honey, shhh… There’s no need to cry.”

“I’m sorry, I was so mean,” you blubber to the point where you are heaving for breath, pregnant belly jumping as your whole body trembles, “I didn’t know that I wanted their milkshake and pizza so badly and now it feels like I am missing out. It’s really stupid but… The baby wants that strawberry milkshake, Javi.”

“I know,” he soothes and laughs softly as he brings you into his arms, giving you a hug whilst you continue your miserable crying, “That’s why I got you one.”

“What?” You sniffle, pulling back to look at him and showing off your red, puffy eyes. 

“I got you a shake,” he clarifies with a small smile, “And I ordered you a pepperoni pizza too.”

Relief washes over you and you cannot help letting out a little, shaky laugh amidst your tears, “You did?” 

Javier nods, eyes soft and smile warm, “Of course, I did. Te conozco (I know you).”

“With a stuffed crust?” You ask, suddenly shy and looking innocently through your lashes. You feel like you’re thirteen again, crushing on your husband all over. 

“Stuffed crust,” he confirms and the smile turns into a grin. He presses a kiss to your cheek and blows a raspberry until you giggle, “No need to cry. El bebé sabe que su mamá está triste (The baby knows their mom is sad)."

“Can’t have that,” you wrap both arms around him and repeatedly kiss his face; nose, cheeks, lips, chin. He closes his eyes, taking each with a sigh that’s nowhere near annoyed. You kiss his lips in the end, “Gracias, esposo (thank you, husband).”

“De nada, mi amor (you’re welcome, my love),” he lets go of you after one last kiss, walking to dig out one more strawberry milkshake from the plastic bag and then handing it to you. 

You take a long sip and do a happy dance without thinking. Meanwhile, Javier gets out your pizza too and suddenly all memory of why you were so angry earlier is gone.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 3 - Head out the Window

After you were allowed to leave the building, you and Vito headed back to the hotel. Your heart was racing at what seemed to be a million miles per hour. You could barely focus on anything. The radio was too noisy, but not loud enough at the same time. The usual calming effect of the car was not doing its job. Your finger nails found solace in picking at the loose skin around your nails. You hadn’t even felt the car stop until Vito said it was time to get out. 

Yet, when you looked up, the hotel building was nowhere in sight. 

“Do you just plan to drop me off and see if I make it back to the hotel alive?” you quipped. He shook his head before gesturing to the small shop that stood in front of you. The big words Ice Cream stood out in the neon lighting. 

“I thought a little celebration was due.” He shrugged his shoulders. On this inside, you were practically melting at the mention of ice cream. It had been entirely too long since you had some. Your diet always came first, but as of right now, you weren’t on one. Celebrations were in store. Yes, you had one more race weekend, but ice cream was more important. 

You and Vito walked inside, a little bell announcing your presence. The worker behind the counter looked as though he didn’t even want to be there. But, he took your orders quickly and you both were in and out in less than 10 minutes. 

Not wanting to get back into the car, you found a little table to sit at. Sure, the table and chairs were off balance and probably hadn’t been cleaned in years, but it worked for the time being. 

“I still can’t believe you got chocolate of all flavors. It’s literally so basic,” you berated him as you licked at your own ice cream cone. 

Vito gave you a look. “It is not. It is a classic. And says the one who got the most boring flavor of cookie dough with sprinkles.” 

“At least it tastes good. Do you just like it or are you a picky eater?” You squinted your eyes and gave a smile. You thought you had gotten the last laugh as you got back to your ice cream. But a cold sensation on your nose startled you. Vito leaned back, laughing hysterically, while holding his ice cream that had a nose-shaped dent in it. 

You couldn’t help but laugh with him too as you tried to shove your ice cream in his face. He was much quicker though and was able to evade your attacks. 

Your breathes evened out a couple of minutes later, and a comfortable silence enveloped the two of you. Until you inhaled sharply.  

“Why didn’t you tell me? About the contact.” You looked over, eyes boring into his. You wanted the truth and not some half-assed answers. But, you knew that he wouldn’t do that. Not about a discussion like this. 

He finished his ice cream before answering. 

“Because I know you. You would have driven yourself into the ground with training and overthinking if you had known there was a possibility that there might have been an offer.” 

You did not answer, because you knew he was right. If there was even a slight glimmer of hope for a 2024 seat, it didn’t even have to be with a big team, you would have gotten stuck in your head. The overthinking would have taken over, and it might have cost you your championship. 

“You’re one of the best drivers out there Y/n. You just need to realize that.” He put a hand on your shoulder as you turned to him. 

“Thank you. Again, for everything. I hope you know that this means I’m not getting rid of you.” You shone a smile at him. You couldn’t image a life without him. He was there for you for all of your accomplishments. What you didn’t know is that he felt the same way. Vito always thought that you were the daughter he never got. And he was thankful for you as well. 

“Never kid, never.” 

Your ice cream had dripped all over your hand by now. Sighing, you tried to clean up the mess. Soon enough, your ice cream and cone were gone. 

Vito looked over to you, “We better head back to the hotel. You have a couple of busy days coming up.” 

You only nodded as you used stood from the outside chair, the metal scraping against the concrete. 

“When do you think I’ll get to meet them?” you ask as you climb back into the car. 

“Meet who kid?” Vito responded as the car came to life. You quickly put on your seatbelt before he carefully pulled out of the parking spot. 

“You know…Max and Checo?” You nervously twirled your fingers. What would they think of you? You know that Checo wouldn’t have much thought, or would he – since you were the one taking his seat. Maybe he thought that Red Bull could have chosen better. 

Max was who you were most nervous about. His teammate would no longer be older than him, or have more experience. He would be paired with a rookie, in both experience and age. Six years younger and no previous chances in Formula 1. And to put a cherry on top, a female. All that he knew in a teammate, would be gone and reconstructed. 

“They’re both nice. I don’t think you’ll have any problems with either of them kid.” 

“Will I have to call Max, Mr. Verstappen? Since he’s older and such.” 

Vito let out a giant laugh, shoulders shaking as he pulled up to a red light. The bright crimson shone on two of you. 

Once he had stopped laughing, Vito was able to say, “No kid. I don’t think so.” 

You sighed in relief. They were older yes, but not that much older. Oscar was only two years older than you. However, you might have to call Fernando Mr. Alonso. The age gap was considerably larger. 

Would you even make friends on the grid? Or would they avoid you to stay out of the media. You bet that the moment you’re seen with one of them, dating rumors would spread. And you didn’t want to upset them, or the grid’s respective girlfriends. You shuddered at the thought. 

The rest of the drive was silent. You figured that tomorrow would go well. You would be fitted for a Red Bull suit and would be given the green light to drive your first F1 car. 

The first.

It had a nice ring to it. 

The drive continued on for a bit. You leaned up and pressed the power button for the radio. The distinct sound of “What Makes You Beautiful” filled the vehicle. Your grin grew as you started to sing the familiar lyrics. Vito smiled as well, more-so mouthing the words while you all but screeched. 

“BABY YOU LIGHT UP MY WORLD LIKE NO BODY ELSE!,” you sang along with the well-known boy band. Your window suddenly was rolled down. You had the grand idea to stick your head out the window.

“YOU DON’T KNOW, OH-OH, THAT’S WHAT MAKES YOU BEAUTIFUL!” The wind picked up your hair and pushed it back into your face. Sure, it was now sticking to your lip gloss, but right now you didn’t care. Until you pulled up to another red light, and there were multiple guys in the car next to you. You flashed an embarrassed smile before clamoring back into the car. Your finger could not find the button for the window any faster. 

Across from you, Vito had started laughing again with full body shakes. For the life of you, your window would not go up. Looking over, you could see Vito’s finger pressed down on the button for your window. You reached across the dash and swatted at his hand, desperately trying to get your window rolled up. 

Finally, the tinted thing slowly but surely reached the top of the window. You looked over at Vito with a look of betrayal. You reach over and hit his shoulder. He, in comparison, is still shaking with laughter. 

“You bitch!” you barely shouted, the words covered by giggles. Ok, it was kind of funny, but not really. “I literally just embarrassed myself in front of those boys.” 

“They probably thought you were very pretty,” he said, snickering. You could only look in disbelief at your manager. You refused to look back over until you knew that the car had definitely passed. Your arms were crossed and lip in a pout for the remainder of the drive. 

Vito looked over at you. “Don’t be like that kid. It was all in good fun.” 

You mumbled back, “For you sure.” The pout however was relaxed and a grin replaced it. You couldn’t be mad at him for very long. It had been a while since you were allowed to have a bit of fun. 

Winning races was fun, but that was your job, that took up most of your year and free time. You never noticed how far the drive way the first time. A yawn escaped your mouth and your hand quickly came up to cover it. You definitely needed to sleep well tonight.  

Thankfully, the car came to a halt in front of the hotel. Vito turned to you as you unbuckled your seatbelt. 

“You better get some good sleep. Tomorrow is going to be fun but exhausting.” 

You mocked a salute and said, “Sir, yes sir. You have a good night as well. See you in the morning?” 

“Yes, I will. Goodnight kid.” 

“Night Vito.” You shut the door and watched as he went to park the car. Why he didn’t use the complementary valet, you hadn’t a clue. But that wasn’t your problem. 

You were quickly let into the building once you scanned your card. The people at the front desk greeted you as you made your way to the elevator. It didn’t take long for it to ding, signaling your arrival to your floor. The pristine carpet led you to your white hotel room door. 

Using the card again to get into the room, you opened the door once the lock had whirred.

The sight of your bed almost had you in tears. The stress of today was now hitting you as you walked to the bed. Following in George Russel’s F1 intro footsteps, you put your arms out and fell face first into the soft top blanket. You could have honestly fallen asleep here, but you knew you needed to take off your makeup first. 

You let out a groan as your body protested moving. Your skin care and toiletries had already been set out, since you used them earlier to freshen up after the flight. 

Deciding not to do every single step to your skin care routine, you took out the micellar water and a reusable cotton round. Once your makeup was off, you quickly washed your face and changed into some pajamas. 

Funny enough, they consisted of some shorts and a Red Bull shirt that you had been given during Dams’ Christmas gift exchange. It had come from Ollie and Arthur both, but you knew that Arthur wouldn’t be caught buying anything with the RB logo on it. 

Now he’d have to get used to it. 

Oh my gosh. What would Arthur think. 

Were you allowed to tell your best friend? You guessed that he could find out early, but you didn’t want to get in trouble for anything just yet. He could find out with the rest of the world. Maybe you could ask Christian if you could tell him the night you posted something before Red Bull came out with an official statement.

Before bed, you found yourself scrolling through Twitter and Instagram. A couple of posts made you laugh out loud. You caught your finger hovering over some posts that talked about “connecting the dots” that were scarily accurate. What you would give to like at least one to send Twitter into a frenzy. But, you withdrew your finger and decided to jump onto TikTok. 

A few videos made you chuckle. Especially the McLaren one of Lando and Oscar trying to build card houses. Lando’s goggles were hilarious. 

To think that in a couple of months, they would be your “co-workers.” That was terrifying. At least you had met Charles a couple of times through Arthur. He was…nice. You hadn’t really spoken to him much the last time you saw him at Arthur’s birthday party. If anything, you think you might have said a maximum of 10 words to him the entire night. 

But that was a start. 

You eventually scrolled through almost all of the new posts. Looking over, you noticed that the clock read 12:30 a.m. Quickly, you set an alarm for the next morning before putting your phone on the charger. 

Vito would kill you in the morning if you hadn’t slept well. You closed your eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of the life you were able to be thrown into. 

At least you could get a red bull if you were tired.  

(Your story)

(Vito's story [I know it'd be impossible to take this picture if he was driving but just imagine :)] )

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne

[forusomimiya]

@syafil00 ship & prompt: “You won’t stop shaking” w/ Tetsuro Kuroo ˚₊˚✧🐈✧˖°❤️‍🔥

You had never really enjoyed oral. At least, not until Kuroo went down on you for the first time. But before that, you had to beg a lot to get him to slip between your legs.

"Please..."

"Please, what?"

"Stop doing that"

"Aren't you enjoying it?" a new caress appeared on your inner thigh, inducing you to grind your hips in the direction of his face as he nibbled right there. "Cause I think you are".

It was hard enough to deal with the sight of Kuroo kneeling before you, with the dining room table behind you as a foothold to hold you up when his gaze met yours while he created a long, leisurely path of kisses from your ankle, resting on his shoulder, to that part of your thigh where you could already feel the tingle running up to your entrance. It was hard enough now having to deal with him blatantly, but excitingly, teasing you. Of your grumbles, of how your frustration made you pull his hair when you saw that with just his breath on your crotch and a little imagination, you could spill over his mouth.

"Will it take you long?"

"Babe please, let me enjoy this marvel body just a little while longer and I promise you that you can use my face as many times you want. I promise you won't stop shaking" Fuck. What a beautiful, lascivious scene it would be to have Kuroo begging you for one more spill when he still hasn't finished tasting the last one. "If I already go wild with your smell, I don't want to imagine with your taste…"

"Tetsuro… ahh your, your lips…"

"Huh? What´s wrong?"

You couldn't look.

"I- like it, please do it again"

"What, honey? what do you want me to do?"

Damn dummy. His voice accompanied his mockery very well. Specially when he dragged out a word and waited expectantly for you to see how annoying he became when he laughed at your pleas and the way even your underwear had no use when his fingers wandered around.

"You know what I fucking mean" again your frustration venting on his hair. Quick future images of him eating you rough and careless.

You couldn't look. You couldn't fucking look.

"Okay…" But he got his way and smiled when your eyes opened and watched how he let his lower lip trail in your pussy before sticking out his tongue and wetting the cloth that, as he well thought, was no longer of any use and would soon make you get rid of them.

"You— sucker!" and what a great welcome to his tongue, now you did, teasing it, rocking on it while Kuroo's eyes sparkled with excitement, seeing through them how he too likes to get a taste of his own medicine. Watching you use him at your whim.

[moonydustx]

warnings: mention of pain/migraines (period-related), mention of wanting to have children (but no mention of pregnancy). Law is a great boyfriend and doctor, as always. Completely self-indulgent since I've been feeling sick for the last week and had to hear the doctor laugh about it. Okay, I think that's enough for here.

You hated these days. You hated having a uterus and having to deal with all the problems it brought. You also hated the idea of ​​wanting to have children - perhaps in a hypothetical and distant future - and this prevented you from getting rid of the organ.

You wanted to feel like other women, some cramps, mood swings and that was fine, but every month a few days before your period it was the same pain that went through your head. If it was your uterus that hurt, you would just ask him to remove the organ for a few days, but what do you do when it was your brain?

Feeling the first pangs, you immediately dropped your task, Law would understand the case. You took the small card out of your pocket and left it hanging next to the groceries you organized. It was an easy way to communicate on bad days, since talking out loud hurt enough that you chose not to speak.

Walking at a leisurely pace, the images around you became colorful blurs and even with just a few minutes between the start of the pain and the current moment, you already felt your head throbbing. Opening the room shared with Law, you felt around the dresser and found the pills, swallowing them without water. Afterwards, your body found comfort in the darkness of the room in the sheets that even covered your head.

I took the day off. Tomorrow, I'll be back.

Law tapped his fingers over the card. He always kept a calendar to keep track of these days and the card you had drawn by hand was just a trace of the little agreement between the two of you for when the day was bad with the problem he hadn't yet found the perfect remedy for.

Passing through the kitchen and his living room, Law picked up what little was capable of improving his situation. The closed door and the silence and darkness of the room indicated that it was another one of the crises.

"My heart?" the cute nickname used on rare occasions reached your ears in a whisper. You knew that Law was too rational for that kind of name, calling you that showed how much he loved you - and in that situation how worried he was. Law struggled to close the door without any noise. You knew he was next to you when you felt the bed dip. "How are we with the pain?"

"I took my pills, but it still hurts." your low, broken voice hurt him more than you could notice. It was frustrating for Law to be a doctor but still not have found the ideal solution.

"Babe did you eat?" your mumble in denial was the answer he already suspected. "Okay. Let's at least have some water, okay?"

He supported you to sit down and, still being held by him, drink the glass full of water that he had brought.

"Good job." he whispered, laying you down again and using the sheets to cover you once more. "I left here some more water and a den den mushi, straight to my room. If you need it, just call and I'll be back here."

"Thank you my love." The words left your lips when Law placed a small kiss on your shoulder.

As much as he wanted to stay there and hold you, wait for you to get better, he knew that taking time for you to be still and silent was the best option or at least the one you chose. He also knew that when you wanted, you would definitely seek his help.

The hours of that afternoon dragged on for Law, while for you they passed a little faster. Although it didn't completely help with the pain, the medicine gave you equivalent sleep for the whole day. Waking up a few hours later, the first thing you reached for was the other water your boyfriend had left there. Emptying the glass in a matter of seconds, you stopped to understand how you felt. Some of the pain had eased and you could see clearly now.

Feeling for the door, you soon found the handle and opened it little by little, letting the light invade the place. Blinking a few times to adapt to the light, you went to where you imagined finding your boyfriend. Sitting at the table, stacks of paper stacked in front of him and an apparently hot cup placed in front of Law, focused on whatever the task was.

"Come in." he answered the two knocks on the door you gave. When he raised his face and came across your figure, his face immediately softened. "Hi babe. How are you feeling?"

"A little better." the firmness in your words reassured him. "Can I stay with you for a while?"

"No need to ask." he dragged the chair back. "Just turn off the light and get cozy." he opened his arms.

Following his brief orders, it only took a few seconds for you to be cuddling up to Law, letting your face hang under the back of his head.

"I won't disturb you if I stay here?" you looked up a little, watching him adjust the small reading lamp on the table.

"Never. I'm glad you came, so I can at least take care of you a little." he spoke still in the same low tone he had used previously. "Unless you want to go to our room."

"Do you mind if I sleep here a little longer?"

"It's okay my heart. Just let me know when you need something, okay?" His hand remained on your back, making a light caress. "Love?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry I haven't found the solution yet." Law's regretful tone almost revealed that all the papers on his desk were about possible treatments, possible surgeries, possible solutions to a small problem that managed to leave you like that, hurt and vulnerable.

"No problem. " you placed a quick kiss on his cheek. It was frustrating and brought tears to your eyes knowing that even if tomorrow or the next day you woke up well, in a few weeks you would be visited by that torment again. "I love you for at least trying."

"Please, don't cry." as if he could read your mind, Law asked immediately, pulling your face to look at his and finding your eyes on the verge of tears. "First, it's going to make it hurt even more and second, I promise I'll find something."

"Or..."

"No, I'm not going to put your brain in a jar of formaldehyde." Even with the entire dark environment and being physically impossible, Law could have sworn that the light laugh that escaped your lips lit up the entire room. "Just rest, my love. Tomorrow, if you wake up better, we can go up to the surface, get some sun and think about more solutions together, okay?"

"Or can we just eat chocolate and read together?"

"Whatever you want. Now rest, my heart, you deserve it."