#but i can tell you i felt deep sympathy for this man for a long time. i felt pity for all he'd gone through. but he'd just lay on the guilt

[britneyshakespeare]

I feel like certain people on Tumblr have really been fighting for backwards progress when it comes to how we talk about mental illness and abuse. I see posts at least several times a week on my dash that seem to have the purpose of implying people with insert-mental-illness and/or insert-symptom are not abusive when they do insert-action-that-makes-people-uncomfortable, often times meaning to promote a more positive image of people with particularly stigmatized conditions, like personality disorders, mood disorders, psychosis, addiction, or neurodivergence. And I really really hate it because these posts almost always have the ultimate purpose of telling people not just "This thing is not inherently abusive," but often it comes across as "You were not abused."

I just find that to be really unhelpful and unintentionally hurtful, and for what? I believe that destigmatizing various mental conditions is a worthy cause, but at the same time this type of rhetoric seems to be so protective of people in whichever stigmatized group they're trying to advocate for, that it comes back around to a sort of respectability politics. Anybody can be an abuser. And someone's means and methods of abusing can very much be influenced by a condition they have. Why wouldn't it be? Their conditions will affect every aspect of their life and their interpersonal relationships. Especially if these issues are going untreated or being insufficiently managed. I don't understand why anyone would want to make it appear as if abusers are mostly neurotypical and mentally well people, or that if they aren't, then their conditions have nothing to do with it and the overlap is merely incidental. What? It makes it so hard for anyone who is a victim to come to terms and identify the dynamics of what they've gone through.

Addicts and mentally ill people don't have to be unproblematic in order to be humanized and accepted. And nobody profits from writing hard and fast rules about how abuse apparently works, drawing clear lines between which behaviors can, and cannot, ever be abuse.

[karvroom]

NIGHT PATROL

hawks x pro hero!reader

⟢ summary: It had been months since anyone had seen you, excluding news outlets and countless civilians you saved. Each passing day, worry grew amongst your small group of Hero friends, especially Hawks. It wasn’t until a fateful night of patrol that he had some closure regarding your absence.

═════════════

Sitting atop of a roof of a tall apartment building, you found it peaceful. You left the noise below, finding solace in the cool night air. Your legs dangled off the edge of the building, swinging to the beat of a song currently stuck on repeat in your head. You propped yourself up by placing your hands behind you and leaning back.

A loud WHOOSH came from the rear of the building.

“This doesn’t look like patrolling to me.” You didn’t have to turn around to know the winged hero, Hawks, was standing directly behind you with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes met the top of your head, inspecting every hair follicle in sight.

“Since when are you my boss?” You spoke, gaze wandering the busy street below. You watched as thousands of people passed. It may have been late, but a handful of individuals indulged in the night life, living it up in Japan as they pleased. You found it fascinating how everyone had their own lives. They each had a home to go back to, kids to tend, dinner to make, pets to feed, etc. You couldn’t fathom how unique everybody’s lives were from one another. It was impossible for you to know everything about anyone, no matter how much you tried. Your eyes settled on a man dressed for a gala, trailing his figure through the crowd. Your raspy voice followed, “I can see from up here.”

Hawks scoffed, easing more into the atmosphere as he took a seat next to you. He finally felt the breeze he’d been missing all day; taking a long breath, he could smell the street vendors’ food. He could’ve gone for some American food right then.

“Did you just come here to flirt?” You asked, not bothering to give him a glance of acknowledgment. He followed your gaze, trying to keep his eyes off your alluring features. You furrowed your brows at the citizens, your lips thinned into a line, the occasional twitch in your nose, he noticed all the small details.

“I’m not flirting.” He admitted, almost pouting at that.

“You know me.” You finally made eye contact, tilting your head to slightly rest on your shoulder. “You know I don’t mess around on patrol. So, what is it that you want?”

“Am I not allowed to check on my coworker that I haven’t seen in nearly two months?” He left you silent.

It’s true, you hadn’t spoken to him or really anyone in quite sometime. You really did disappear from your friends. You abandoned them all to focus on your career as an aspiring hero. It had been your dream since you were little to become a hero—it didn’t have to be number one, but you were hoping at least top ten. Right now, you were eighteen in the charts; it didn’t sit right with you. You knew you had to push yourself, otherwise all that work the Hero Commission poured into you would be for nothing.

“Am I not allowed to have some alone time?” You spat after a minute of deep thought. All he did was stare at you within that time frame. Hawks examined your face, trying to understand your current mindset. Had you gone rogue? Were you depressed? Was it too much for you? He couldn’t tell.

“You can, but, seriously, it’s like you dropped off the face of the Earth.” Hawks wore a concerned look. He moved his hand closer to yours, your pinkies almost touching. “No one has seen you—not unless you’re fighting a villain or just so happen to catch you at the right moment at your agency. It’s concerning (Y/N).”

His facial expression contorted to one of sympathy. Hawks’ fingers twitched before gently placing his hand atop of yours. You let out a small sigh, trying not to look the hero in the eye. You removed your hand from the cement, running your hand through your hair in distress. He noticed your odd lack of your usual touchiness.

“They’ve just been scheduling me for nightly patrols more, y’know?” Your eyes scanned the sky, watching birds take flight through the grey distant clouds. “It’s nothing serious.”

The redness in your eyes told a different story. You hadn’t been getting much sleep. Hawks could see a difference in your gaze. Your eyes used to hold so much light, covered with a glossy finish. It used to look like you were always about to cry, even though you were the most emotionally constipated person Hawks had probably ever met.

Hawks admired your ability to control your emotions, setting them aside in the most difficult situations. But now, he was getting antsy and frustrated with your responses.

“I know you’re lying.” He admitted, drafting out a heavy breath. You froze, your heart rate picking up ever so slightly. Hawks could tell, he could see the guilt ridden all over your face. “You’ve been requesting nights only. Your front desk lady told me so.”

Dammit Denice. You took note that her pay would be getting cut and to have a long talk with her about your wishes. Whatever happened to secrecy in this society? Yeah, Hawks wasn’t just someone of the community, but that included the Number Two hero when you swore her to keep her mouth shut.

“I find it more peaceful at night.”

“That’s when most crimes happen. Doesn’t seem very peaceful to me.” Hawks snorted. The light breeze hit his gold tresses, messing up his hair (making it even more messy than it already was). He scooted closer to you, “C’mon, I miss our patrols. Remember? We’d always schedule to be together.”

Of course you remembered, how could you not? You and Hawks would almost always be seen together. If there was one of you, best believe the other was somewhere close by. You almost smiled at the fond memories that were shattered by your poor decision making. You ruined it for yourself.

You could admit, it was unjust of you to “ghost” everyone. Hell, you were having a mental crisis, straining your health to become a top hero while juggling your social life. But at what cost if the rankings hadn’t budged in weeks? Was it worth it at this point?

Hawks noticed the solemn look on your face, trying to find a way to make you feel better. He didn’t know what to say or how to approach you. Clearly, you didn’t want to be touched or bothered at all, but he wanted to talk to you. Hawks needed to. It was hard not seeing you for months, but now it was even more difficult. You were standing right in front of him and he could tell there wasn’t anything for him to do.

“Things change, Hawks.” You shrugged, sadness and regret creeping into your tone. Your guts threatened to spill from your mouth. You wanted to say more—something else, but you didn’t know what. You hated being put on the spot.

You swung your legs over the ledge, your feet finally touching solid ground. You repositioned yourself to lean comfortably against the wall that Hawks remained seated on. You crossed your arms, demonstrating the awkwardness you brought to the conversation.

Hawks heart shrunk in size at the sound of his hero name coming from you. Of course, you were on the job. Even then, you guys used to be unprofessional and speak each other’s names like they were forbidden fruits. Now, strictly Hero names? It was foreign to him. So much had changed and he hated it.

Little did Hawks know, he was part of the problem.

As much as you denied it, there was something between you and the winged hero. Something beyond friendship; it was evident to everyone around you. Hawks would always make silly advances at you, offering to take you on dates, to sleepover, try to be around you as much as possible. You secretly adored it, but couldn’t risk a relationship getting in the way of your career path.

The pain and hardship you would endure throughout your time as a Pro Hero had already begun taking a toll on you. You didn’t want to add anymore weight on your shoulders. At least, that’s what your mind was telling you. Your heart spoke differently. You wanted his attention, you wanted to come home to him, to be there for him whenever he needed. It was far more complicated than that when you’re risking your life everyday.

“I miss you.” Hawks blurted. He wanted to keep his cool, laid back demeanor afloat, but it was faltering with the foreseeable outcome of this conversation. It was going nowhere near the direction he had hoped.

“What do you want me to say?” Your voice rose. The blonde was completely shattered. The pang in his chest only growing, threatening to burst from under his skin. Hawks couldn’t pinpoint what he felt in that moment. Anger? Anguish? Heartache? All he knew was that it pained him in a way words couldn’t begin to describe.

You pushed away from the ledge, starting to walk away before he could respond. You had heard enough for one night. You were already hard on yourself, you didn’t need a scolding from someone you deeply cared about.

Hawks got off the ledge, speed walking to catch up to you. He caught your wrist in his hand. You whipped your head around, forcing your gaze to meet his. The shadows of the building covered his features, making him seem like an ominous illusion. His grip tightened only slightly, you tried to wriggled your hand free.

“Do you ever lay off?” You snapped. “Hop off my dick, Hawks.”

Now, this, wasn’t how he remembered you. Maybe he was still caught onto the thin strings tethered back to the “old” you, but he didn’t just feel heartbroken. Hawks felt heated at your words.

“No.”

“”No”? “No” what, Hawks?” The way you spat his name—no, his hero name in a bitter rage. A flame ignited inside of him, he didn’t know what to call it as the heat began to swallow his insides whole. It burned his throat, tickling the tip of his tongue. He watched as you aggressively quirked a brow at him.

In one swift motion, Hawks pulled you closer to him, causing you to stumble over your own feet. He scooped you into his arms, coddling you against his chest.

“W-What’re you doing?”

With no answer coming from his mouth, Hawks’ wings stretched from his back before taking to the sky. You looked over your shoulder to see the ground beneath you distance itself.

“Hawks, let me go.” You looked back at him panicked. He could feel your body trembling from the height you were at. Once you were high enough in the air, he started to fly faster, away from the building. Your breathing quickened, “Put me down!”

“If you won’t talk, then I’ll force it out of you, (Y/N).” Hawks glanced down at you before dipping lower from the sky. The speed you flew out was dangerous. You tried closing your eyes, afraid of the view, but you couldn’t when you heard cars honking from beside you.

Hawks had flown into traffic, maneuvering between the colorful vehicles of the city. It wasn’t everyday you would see the Number Two hero of Japan risking his life for fun, especially with another.

People thought he had lost his mind, and you were beginning to think that too.

Coming to a stop light, Hawks swerved up into the air. The strong wind messing up the front of your hair, swirling the strands into a knotted mess. Your grip tightened around Hawks. You refused to look down at the people below you.

Some civilians were taking photos and videos, hoping to receive clout for the two heroes they captured together.

“What do you want me to say? Just put me down, Keigo!” You demanded, your voice cracking. You pressed yourself as close as possible into Hawks’ chest, the fur of his coat ticking your face.

“Now, we’re getting somewhere.” He stopped midair, the sound of his large wings flapping continuously. It was the only thing keeping you from falling, the only thing keeping you alive at this very moment. You were at about the same height as the hospital building next to you. If you fell, at least that was there. “Don’t think I’ll let you off so easily, (Y/N). It’s not what I want to hear, it’s about you telling the truth.”

“You want the truth?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” You could hear his tone dripping with sarcasm. You didn’t have to look up at him to know he was wearing a smug look on his face.

“Hawks—“ You started.

“And we’re back to square one.” Hawks let out a heavy sigh. You could feel his hands start to loosen on your body and panic shook you. You clung onto him, refusing to let go. A chuckle escaped his lips, “So clingy.”

That comment pissed you off. Clingy? You were being clingy? What you were doing was trying not to die. But if he wanted to fan the flames, you could too.

You let go, rolling out of Hawks’ arms and free falling in the air. The blonde was in shock, mouth agape as he watched your body play against gravity for three seconds. Then it clicked. He dove after you.

One thing was your Quirk was not meant for flying or falling. Hawks knew that very well. And how dare he test you, especially on a day you were feeling very ballsy. Of course, you knew Hawks would never let anything happen to you. However, you were starting to get worried the longer you went without a certain Hero’s touch.

The sounds of pedestrians shouting increasingly grew louder. Horns of cars passing by multiplied between each second. You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable death to hit you hard as you splatter against the concrete; guts and all. You could imagine the headline of the newspaper already: ‘NO. 18 HERO FALLS TO DEATH—embarrassing for her’.

Suddenly, you felt the warmth of a strong pair of arms’ embrace and hot breath on your neck. The heavy breathing of you and Hawks colliding with one another as he looked at you in disbelief.

“You’re fucking crazy!” Hawks yelled, not out of anger, but surprise. Before you could respond, he mustered what little strength he had left and flew you both to an all-too-familiar balcony; his balcony.

He gently placed you on the cold floor of his picturesque high rise balcony. His heavy boots hit the ground, sending a sound of discontent throughout the atmosphere. Hawks, distressfully, ran his fingers through his hair, looking in the opposite direction of you.

You spoke, in an unusual calm tone, “We can’t be here. We’re supposed to be on pa—“

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Hawks stalked toward you, slamming his heavy duty boots against the ground. It sent chills down your spine how aggressive he was and how unnerved he looked. He grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to meet his gaze, “(Y/N), you could’ve fucking died.”

The crazed look in Hawks’ eyes made you uneasy yet prideful. You didn’t know you had that effect on him. Then again, he would’ve felt the same for anyone else left in his care. Oh, but how wrong you were about that.

“But I didn’t,” Your brows narrowed as you spoke in a stern tone. Hawks maneuvered hush body to be at complete eye level with you, making the scene feel even more intense. Whiplash was playing in your chest cavity, the tempo increasing with every passing second. You swallowed, “and I know you wouldn’t have let it happen.”

“Don’t ever do that again.” This was a simple slap on the wrist compared to what Hawks was thinking. He lowered his head, taking a look at the ground. He inhaled, smelling the soil that rot in his makeshift garden. Hawks lifted his gaze, finding you watching his vulnerable state.

“Don’t you do that again. You know how much I hate flying.” You lightly pushed away from him, taking a step back until your back almost hit the glass entrance to his apartment.

Hawks followed you, taking a large step forward, leaving about two feet of space between your bodies. You could practically feel the leftover anxiety radiating off of him. Regardless, Hawks maintained his cool guy demeanor as he talked, “Well, I wouldn’t have if you had just answered my question.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” You pointed, your index finger hitting his chest. His rock hard chest. You never really took the time until now to admire his physique. Yeah, it was almost like every other hero’s, but it was the way he presented himself. He hid beneath his large coat, only revealing the compression shirt that hugged his upper half so fittingly. You were a little shocked the first time it was revealed to you.

“You’d give one if your really cared.”

“If I really cared?” With raised brows, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Really? You’re gonna pull that crap on me?”

Hawks mimicked your movements, the sound of his coat shuffling filled your ears. If the warm jacket hadn’t been covering him, you could only imagine the flex of his biceps with the simple gesture.

“You got in my way.” You finally caved, earning a confused look from the winged hero. “You-You have always been in my way. Ever since we graduated from the stupid Hero Commission together.”

You stuttered, not because you were nervous, but the frustration building up from trying to understand the big feelings that were being unveiled.

“(Y/N), what do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean, Keigo?” More emotion crept into your small outburst, begging to be unleashed. You avoided eye contact with him, looking anywhere but his soft, pink lips. “Something about you. You’re stuck in my head. I-It’s like I can’t get you out.”

“I—“ Hawks started, you placed a finger over his mouth to cut him off.

“I’m not done.” You retracted your finger slowly, ensuring he would let you go on with your rant. You were finally starting to come to terms with what was brewing inside you and you didn’t want him to ruin it; even if you were making somewhat of a fool of yourself. “You annoy me, even when you aren’t around. And you make me feel…balked? I can’t understand why I feel this way and it eats at me. Anytime I’m alone, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Addicted. That was the word you were looking for. You felt addicted to him. Not by the way he made you feel, but him in general. The way his smile would instantly brighten a gloomy afternoon or how he actually cared. The way he cared for you was like nothing you had ever experienced before. You didn’t like it. You didn’t understand what was goin on in your mind or heart, it was a jumbled mess of intricate affections waiting to be fished out by you.

“I don’t understand.” Your hands flew at your head, dramatically grabbing your hair as you sighed in frustration. “Something about you.”

Hawks couldn’t bare to listen to any more of your babbling. He already knew what you were trying to say, but could tell you were having a (painfully) hard time to piece together the puzzle of sentiments.

The blonde took one step and it was over. It was as if his body moved on its own. Hawks closed the gap between you two, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek and the other making way to your waist as he indulged in your kiss of life. The flavor of sweet summer’s finest peach coated his lips, making him want more. Your lips molded perfectly together.

You allowed it to happen, you hadn’t realized that this is what you wanted. This is what you needed all along to figure out what was “wrong” with you. You lifted your arms, placing them gently around his neck, running your fingers through his hair in the back. All of your worries fluttered away, however, you could feel something new. Butterflies flapping their little wings as they made way around your stomach, tickling your insides.

Finally (sadly), you both pulled away. Bewilderment filled both your eyes. It was clear Hawks was just as surprised as you were. His mouth was slightly agape while his hands lingered your body. Hawks’ calloused fingers ran along your arm, making way to your finger tips.

He tried to hide his look of sultry with one of charm, “Does that solve your dilemma?”

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A/N: it’s so rushed, i’m sorry. i just HAD to post this right now. it’s been sitting in my drafts for a good week or so.

[thewickedjazzy]

𓍼𝑽𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑶𝒇 𝑴𝒚 𝑶𝒘𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚𓂃

➵ 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 : Beast! Dazai osamu x f! reader

➵ 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸: You are Dazai's favourite—an executive who avoided unnecessary bloodshed, preferring to strategize behind the scenes. With your cunning plans, you helped the Port Mafia flourish after Mori's death, and under Dazai's leadership, you became vital in securing the organization's power.

➵ 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽: NSFW minor dni, smut, angst, dazai is controlling, yandere dazai?, character death, abuse, guns, blood, SA, dissociation, manipulation, unhealthy relationship, let me know if I forgot any Xx.

➵ 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮: Helloooo, this fic took me 3 weeks to finish, I'm always down with angst stories cause, let's be real, no bsd fan doesn't like angst, right? also, ice cream man by raye inspired me to write some parts uwu I hope you enjoy it. xoxo -dividers credits to @anitalenia

➵ 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 6.8k

You shouldn't be crying. You already did beat the man up till he was shaking, but you couldn't help it. You can still feel his ice-cold hands marking your body, a sensation that sends shivers down your spine. How you wish you could express how you feel, how you felt in that moment when your strength faltered. You long to explain why you’re silently blaming yourself, why the guilt gnaws at your insides like a relentless parasite.

You put on these faces, pretending you're fine, wearing a mask of strength that you desperately want to believe in. But in the privacy of the bathroom, you press rewind, playing the events over and over in your head. His fingerprints, like invisible stains, linger on your skin, a cruel reminder of how he made you frame yourself for his sins. Such a pathetic, dead excuse of a man.

The man in question wasn’t just some random thug—he was your crazy ex, the one who had haunted you for years, refusing to let go, even after everything had ended. You hadn’t told anyone about the encounter. What would they think? What would he think? Dazai, with his sharp eyes and sharper mind, would see right through you. He always did.

You straighten up and hastily wipe your tears away as you hear a knock on the door. The sound sends a jolt through your body, and you quickly compose yourself, trying to erase any trace of vulnerability from your face.

Seated at your desk, you take a deep breath and call out, "Come in."

The door opens, and it's Chuuya, greeting you with his usual smile. But the moment his eyes land on you, the smile drops, concern filling his gaze as he takes in your red nose and puffy eyes.

“Hey, you okay?”' he asks with a low and gentle voice.

You force a weak smile, shaking your head. "Yeah..just... pmsing," you lie, the excuse feeling hollow even to you. You get up walking towards him before adding quickly, "Please don’t tell Dazai."

Chuuya hesitates, his eyes searching yours, before he nods, accepting your words without question. He hands you his handkerchief, his expression softening with sympathy as you take it from him.

You dab at your eyes, feeling the wetness seep into it, and then take a deep breath. You can’t afford to break down, not now. Not in front of him.

He escorted you to Dazai’s office, his presence a quiet comfort. At the door, he gave you a final, soft look before turning away.

The office door creaked open, and you stepped inside, the chill of the room amplifying the coldness you already felt. Dazai looked up from his desk, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your disheveled state.

“Rough day?” he asked, voice so velvetly soft that it could melt you.

You tried to muster a casual smile, but it felt hollow. “Just had a run-in with some old... baggage. Nothing to worry about.”

Dazai’s eyes didn’t leave you, his expression shifting to something more serious. “You know I don’t buy that ‘nothing’ act. What’s really going on?”

You took a deep breath, struggling to keep your voice steady. “It’s really not your concern. I’m handling it.”

Dazai’s gaze was sharp as he looked you up from his desk, his usual lazy posture replaced by a steely focus. “Come here,” he said, a command wrapped in casual tones.

Reluctantly, you approached, his eyes never leaving you. He patted his lap, a gesture both familiar and unsettling. “Sit.”

You shook your head, trying to avoid his intense stare, oh god how he toys with your emotions. “I’m fine standing.”

Dazai’s expression darkened slightly, his patience wearing thin. He reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist as he pulled you closer. The touch was feather-light but unmistakably commanding. He guided you gently onto his lap, his hands resting on your waist.

You stiffened, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Osamu, really, it’s nothing.”

Ignoring your protests, Dazai’s lips brushed against your neck, his kisses soft but insistent. You tilted your head, a soft whimper escaping your lips. The sensation was like a nicotine hit after a long withdrawal; you had been away on a mission for three days, and you had missed his touch more than you cared to admit. As his lips continued their tender assault, he pulled your shirt down slightly, revealing the fresh bruise that marred your skin.

Dazai’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint reflecting in them. The bruise was vivid, a stark contrast against your pale skin, and his expression darkened as he took in the sight.

“Who did this?” he asked coldly, his voice remained low.

You turned your head away, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s not important.”

Dazai’s hand tightened on your waist, his grip firm and unyielding as he tilted your head back. His kisses turned sharper, more insistent, and you couldn’t help but let out soft whimpers. His breath was warm against your skin, his lips pressing harder with each passing second. “I said who did this..”

You swallowed hard, the pressure of his words mixing with the lingering sting of the bruise. “It’s nothing. Just...someone from my past.”

His grip remained unyielding, his gaze piercing. “I don’t like secrets. Especially ones that involve you getting hurt.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the weight of his expectations pressing down. You felt cornered, unable to escape the intensity of his scrutiny. “I said it’s nothing. Please, just let it go.”

Dazai’s expression remained impassive for a moment, then he simply nodded. The acknowledgment was neither reassuring nor dismissive, leaving a cold tension in the air.

After a few seconds of silence Dazai's voice cut through the room, his fingers still brushing against your skin. “The thing is, my love, you don’t have to tell me anything.” He turned to the intercom on his desk, his tone shifting to a cold, commanding edge. “Atsushi, you can bring him in now.”

Your eyes widened in shock, your legs going weak as you tried to turn your head towards the door. It creaked open slightly, and Atsushi rushed in, dragging your ex behind him. Your ex’s hands were bound tightly, and he was unconscious, a cloth over his mouth. Atsushi tossed him roughly onto the floor and announced, “I brought him alive, just as you ordered.”

“Good work, Atsushi,” he said calmly. “You can leave now.”

Dazai’s gaze remained on you, his smile twisted with a cruel satisfaction as Atsushi closed the door behind him. He lifted your legs lightly, forcing you to stand as he moved toward the prone figure of your ex, who was beginning to stir. Dazai’s fingers traced along your ex’s jawline with an unsettling gentleness.

Horror gripped you as you watched, understanding what was about to unfold. You begged, your voice trembling, “Please, Dazai, don’t kill him.”

He merely tsked in response, his eyes cold and unyielding. “I’m not going to kill him.”

Before you could take a deep breath, his voice sliced through the tension like an arrow. “You are the one who's going to do it.” He gently grabs your hands placing a gun between them.

Your hands trembled as you held the gun, the cold metal biting into your palms. The room was deathly silent except for the faint, ragged breaths of your ex as he began to regain consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, revealing a mix of confusion and fear as he took in his surroundings.

Dazai’s cold eyes were locked on you.“Go on,” he urged softly. “You wanted him to suffer for what he did. Here’s your chance.”

The gun felt impossibly heavy, and your heart pounded in your chest. You glanced at your ex, his eyes widening in terror as he realized what was happening. “Please,” you whispered, more to yourself than to anyone else. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

Dazai’s smile widened slightly. “It doesn’t matter what you wanted. You’ve been given a choice. What will you do with it?”

Your mind raced, grappling with the gravity of the situation. You thought of the pain he’d caused you, the fear he had instilled, and the bruises that still stung. Yet, the thought of ending his life filled you with a profound dread. You felt trapped, the decision crushing under the weight of Dazai’s expectation and your own turmoil.

“Do it,” Dazai said, his voice a soft command, almost a caress. “Or I’ll do it for you. But if I do, you’ll have missed your chance to decide your own fate.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you faced your ex, his terror and confusion mirroring your own. Choked sobs left you lips Dazai’s gaze followed every movement with a sick interest.

“Please, Dazai..don’t make me do this,” you pleaded, your voice cracking.

Dazai’s expressionwas stoic as ever. “You’re not being asked to make a choice you can’t live with. You’re being given the chance to claim control over your own life.”

With a final, desperate look at your ex, you closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. The gun felt like a lead weight in your hand, the gravity of your decision pressing down on you. Finally, with a heavy heart and trembling hands, you raised the gun.

You closed your eyes tightly, the room spinning as you tried to steady your racing heart. The gun trembled in your grip, the weight of the decision nearly unbearable. You heard Dazai move behind you, his footsteps silent against the floor.

His presence was almost soothing as he came closer, but you knew better than to trust the comfort of his proximity. Dazai's hands settled on your outstretched arms, his touch both firm and unsettlingly gentle. His fingers caressed the metal of the gun, guiding it with a measured pressure.

“You don’t need to hesitate,” Dazai murmured softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve already made the decision. Now, you just need to follow through.”

The sensation of his hands on yours, the intimate pressure of his grip, made your breathing shallow and uneven. You felt a dark, twisted sense of helplessness as his fingers guided the gun, aligning it with your ex’s trembling form.

“I’ll count to three,” Dazai continued, his voice was steady “And when I reach three, I want you to pull the trigger. Don’t let yourself falter.”

You felt his breath on your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. The intimacy of his touch contrasted sharply with the gravity of the moment. You wanted to pull away, to escape the suffocating pressure, but his grip held you firmly in place.

“One,” Dazai said, his voice calm as he pressed a soft kiss on your neck.

Your tears fell silently as you fought against the urge to drop the gun.

“Two,” Dazai’s breath was warm as he pressed another kiss.

You could hear your ex’s shallow breaths, his eyes pleading as they met yours.

“Three,” Dazai said, his voice now a commanding whisper.

With a final, shuddering breath, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the world as you pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot echoed painfully in the room, and you felt the impact of the action resonate through your very core.

You opened your eyes, your arms fell limp as the gun slipped from your grasp, hitting the floor with a hollow clatter. You staggered back, your legs barely holding you upright, and turned away from the grim sight before you.

Dazai’s grip on your shoulders was a cold anchor as he held you steady, his touch paradoxically soothing yet possessive. You could feel his breath against your neck as he leaned in close, his voice a chilling murmur. “Well done,” he said placing soft kisses again as his arms wrapped around your waist pulling your back against his chest. “You’ve proven your resolve.”

You felt a wave of nausea and despair wash over you, your emotions a tangled mess of guilt and horror. The room spun as you tried to make sense of the scene in front of you. The body on the floor was now still, the weight of your actions sinking in with a heavy finality.

Dazai’s hands slid down to your wrists, his touch now insistent as he forced you to look at the aftermath. “Do you see what you’ve done?” he asked softly, his voice a mix of praise and dark satisfaction. “You’ve taken control of your own fate.”

You tried to pull away, but his grip was firm, his presence an oppressive force that left you feeling trapped. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for any semblance of escape, but all you found was the unyielding gaze of Dazai, his face reflecting a mixture of cold pleasure and calculated dominance.

His fingers gently traced your jawline, his touch both tender and unsettling. “It’s done now,” he said, his voice almost affectionate. “You did great, my love.”

The finality of his words echoed in your mind as you struggled to come to terms with what had just happened. The tears streaming down your face were a testament to the turmoil within you, the depth of your inner conflict clear as you fought to keep yourself composed.

Dazai’s hands gently turned you around to face him. His expression, though tinged with satisfaction, softened as he wiped away the tears streaming down your face. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he carefully brushed away the last remnants of your distress.

He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The tenderness of the moment was jarring against the harsh reality of what had just occurred. His lips moved gently against yours, and he licked your bottom lip before drawing it into a passionate, consuming kiss.

The warmth of his kiss contrasted sharply with the icy numbness you felt inside. You felt his fingers trace your face, lingering on the slight traces of blood that you hadn’t even noticed. His touch was delicate, almost intimate, as he wiped away the remnants with careful precision.

Dazai pulled away from the kiss, his expression unreadable as he reached for the intercom on his desk. “Atsushi,” he said with a cold, commanding tone, “bring in the clean-up crew. Dispose the body.”

Atsushi entered the room, his eyes shifting between you and Dazai. He bowed slightly, acknowledging the order before moving towards the body. As he lifted your ex’s lifeless form, the finality of the situation hit you with renewed force. You stared blankly, more tears streaming down your face, as Atsushi carried the body out and closed the door behind him.

The room was filled with the soft hum of Dazai’s presence as he moved back in front of you. He gently placed his hands on your cheeks, shushing you softly as your sobs grew louder. “Shh, it’s alright,”he murmured, his voice almost soothing.

You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, your sobs escaping in ragged bursts. Dazai’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. His embrace was both comforting and suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice a murmur against your hair. “I know it was hard.”

You could barely respond, the weight of your own emotions too heavy to articulate. All you could do was clutch at him, your sobs muffled against his chest as the realization of what had happened continued to sink in. You hated him, and yet, in the chaos of your emotions, you felt a desperate, confusing affection for him—a love that seemed to only grow more complicated in the aftermath of his actions.

Dazai’s fingers gently combed through your hair, his touch soothing despite the circumstances. “It’s all over now,” he said softly.

His lips brushed against your forehead in a tender kiss, “He should've known better than to touch what's mine.”

The room was filled with the constant contact of your colliding bodies. Your body arched against the rumpled sheets as his thrusts filled you completely, each stroke hitting exactly the right spots.

" Mmm.. that's it my love, take my cock all the way inside this pretty eager pussy of yours" he growled softly against your skin.

You relished the way every thrust brushed against your cervix, sending waves of pleasure through you. The intensity of his movements left you feeling utterly consumed, your mind hazed and eyes glossy with desire. Your fingers dug into his back, desperately clutching him as he moved with a raw intensity.

His lips traveled down your neck, biting and kissing with a fervent need. One hand cupped your breast with a possessive grip while his mouth hovered over the other, teasing with gentle flicks of his tongue and playful nips at your nipple. The mix of sensations was overwhelming, your moans filling the space between you.

Yet, even in the midst of this passion, your mind began to wander. The memories of the past few days—the confrontation, the guilt, and Dazai’s chilling command—flooded your thoughts, turning the intense pleasure into a distant murmur. You felt a growing disconnection, your body reacting while your mind struggled to stay present.

Sensing the abrupt change, Dazai felt as if he were thrusting into a lifeless body. He slowed his movements and pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with a rare softness. “What’s wrong, my love?” he asked, concern filling his lustrous gaze.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself as your voice, though shaky, was firm. “It’s fine,” you reassured him, forcing a weak smile. “I just... got lost in my thoughts for a moment. It’s nothing.” You reached out to gently touch his cheek, trying to convey that the issue was more internal than it was about him.

Dazai took a deep breath and shifted to sit upright, his concern still evident. “You're still thinking about it, right?” he asked, his voice tinged with genuine worry.

"Please, just forget about it." you said, pulling his wrist with a firm but gentle grip. Before he could respond, you pressed your lips against his, kissing him deeply to steer your focus back to the present.

Dazai gasped into the kiss, his breath hitching as your kissed him with fervor. He gently pinned your wrists down with a possessive grip, his lips trailing soft kisses along your chest. He positioned himself again, his cock pressing against your throbbing cunt, his voice a low murmur.

“We can stop if it’s too much, my love,” he whispered as his chest moves up and down with each breath.

You locked gaze with his eyes, “Just fuck me already,” you breathed. You wanted to reclaim the moment, to bury the past beneath the intense passion that bound you both.

He slams his cock into you again, filling you completely. A growl escapes his lips as he watches you squirm beneath him, clearly enjoying the sight of your reactions. His thrusts become more powerful, and he showers your neck, chest, and breasts with fervent kisses.

"So addict to my cock, love? Hmm?" he continues to taunt you with his words and delivers a firm slap to your ass, making you shiver from his touch.

You gasp, arching your back as his thrusts hit all the right spots. “It feels so good, 'samu” you breathe, trying to steady yourself.

He slaps your ass again, making you shiver and whimper. “Say it again, my love haah~ I need to hear you say how good ugh~I’m making you feel.”

“s'good,” you moan, your voice breaking.

"Good" with a satisfied growl, he pulls out. “Now, ride me.”

You nod, your legs trembling in anticipation. As you position yourself over him, he hisses at the sensation of your cold hand guiding his hard, leaking cock to your eager, wet cunt.

As you sink down onto him, your walls stretches to accommodate his size, a deep moan slipping from your lips as you take him in fully. The feeling is overwhelming, your inner walls tightening around him, drawing a sharp gasp from both of you.

His long slender fingers grip your hips, helping you find a rhythm as you begin to ride against him. Each roll of your hips sends waves of pleasure through you, the friction making you shudder.

You lean forward, your fingers fumbling as you carefully remove the bandage from his eye. Your breath is hot against his neck as you whisper, “’Samu, I love you.” Your body presses against his, and with a surge of passion, you begin to ride him at a faster pace, each movement gaining a growl from him.

His eye, now fully exposed, darkens with lust as he gazes up at you. “I love you too, darling,” he murmurs through soft gasps. He meets your rhythm with powerful thrusts, each one driving deeper into you, matching your pace perfectly.

Feeling the pressure building within you, your moans grow louder. “I’m... close, ‘Samu,” you gasp, your trembling hands held onto his shoulders for support as you ride him faster, rolling your hips against his perfect sized cock feeling him hit every spot with his thrusts against you.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he groans in pleasure. “Oh yeah? Come all over my cock, love,” beads of sweat rolling down his temples, his words sending you spiraling closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tightly, guiding you through the overwhelming waves of pleasure as your body trembles in his grasp.

The coil inside you finally snaps, releasing a wave of ecstasy that washes over you. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m coming, ah~ hmm~,” you cry out, your body going numb from the overwhelming pleasure. Your juices flow freely, spilling down and coating his cock as his thrusts become more intense, shaking your body upwards.

Dazai's growls of satisfaction mix with your moans as he thrusts upward forcefully, riding out his own climax. His body shudders with the release, and he moans loudly, his pleasure echoing through the room.

As the intense waves of pleasure begin to subside, Dazai slowly pulls out, his breath heavy and ragged. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close tenderly. The warmth of his embrace soothes you, bringing a sense of comfort and safety as you both calm down from your shared high. His fingers gently caress circles on your back, his breathing gradually steadying as he murmurs softly into your ear, “God, you did so well, my love.”

You watch him as he gets up, stretching slightly before heading towards the bathroom, the soft hum of water barely filling the room as he turns on the shower. The warmth of the bed still lingers around you, but it does little to quell the chill creeping into your thoughts.

Your mind drifts back to that moment a few days ago. The weight of the gun in your hand, the resistance of the trigger as you squeezed it—it's all so vivid, so real, that it feels as if you're still there, frozen in that moment. You can almost hear the echoes of the shot ringing in your ears, see the flash of surprise in his eyes as life slipped away from him.

You shake your head, trying to dispel the images, but they cling stubbornly, refusing to let go.

He calls your name from the shower, his voice gentle, inviting, yet tinged with concern when you don’t respond immediately. The sound is almost enough to pull you back, but your mind remains caught in that dark place, replaying the scene over and over.

"My love?" another call, softer this time, as he pushes the already ajar bathroom door further open to check on you. His presence pulls you back just enough to acknowledge him, to let the past slip away—at least for now.

His eyes meet yours, concern etched on his face. “Are you okay?”

You nod, forcing yourself to sit up. “I’m fine,” You managed to get off the bed, the cool air brushing against your naked skin, grounding you somewhat.

As you step into the bathroom, your body moves on autopilot, but your mind remains distant. You tell yourself that in a week or so, the memory will fade, that the guilt will lessen, that you’ll forget. But deep down, you know it's just another lie you’re feeding yourself, another attempt to bury the truth under layers of denial.

He steps aside to let you join him under the warm cascade of water, his arms wrapping around you as he senses your unease. “Hey,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple, “you’re safe with me, my love.”

You nod, leaning into his embrace, but the words feel hollow, the comfort fleeting. The water washes over you, warm and soothing, but it can’t cleanse the darkness that lingers within.

You stood in front of the mirror, the dim light casting shadows on your face. Your reflection stared back at you, hollow eyes and a face pale from sleepless nights. The trauma of the past week weighed heavily on you, the memory of the blood-soaked room and the desperate cries of your ex replaying in your mind over and over again.

It had been a week since that horrifying event, but still the memory still clung to your mind like a stubborn stain. Dazai had been more affectionate than usual since then, uncharacteristically tender in his way.

The intimacy between you had taken on a new, softer turn, the moments shared tinged with an almost fragile gentleness. His eyes, once so sharp, now held an unsettling softness, as if he were trying to erase the darkness with his own brand of twisted comfort.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were trapped—caught in a web he’d spun so intricately that you hadn’t even noticed until it was too late.

You had tried to bury the memory, to push it away with every ounce of strength you had. But it never really left, lurking in the corners of your mind—what you had been forced to do.

You needed a break, a breath of fresh air, anything to push back the suffocating fog that had taken over your mind. So, you grabbed your coat, slipped into your favourite boots, and stepped out of your apartment, clinging to the hope of finding some shred of normalcy.

The bar was a refuge, a place where the world’s harsh edges seemed to dull. It was where you went to forget, even if only for a little while. As you walked through the door, the familiar clink of glasses and murmur of conversation welcomed you. The warmth inside, the smoky haze and soft jazz music they all played a part into easing you up even for a bit.

You made your way to the bar, your usual seat already occupied. The bartender greeted you with a nod, his understanding gaze a small comfort. You ordered your drink and settled into your chair, trying to shake off the lingering heaviness from the past week.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You picked it up and saw a message from Chuuya: "Hey, just checking in. Are you okay? I’m worried about you."

You typed back: "I’m fine, just needed some time to clear my head. At the bar now, trying to relax a bit." You hit send and put your phone down, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

That's when you heard a familiar voice. You looked up and saw Kaito standing there, a surprise that made your heart skip. It had been years since you last saw him. He was the one who had helped you escape from your ex's grip, the only person who had reached out to pull you from that nightmare.

“Hey..." he said, his voice warm but edged with worry. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You gestured to the empty seat beside you. “Sit. I could use the company.”

Kaito slid into the chair, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “You look... different. Is everything okay?”

The question was like a trigger, a floodgate that opened the dam of your emotions. You looked away, taking a deep breath. “It’s been... a rough week.”

He looked at you concerned, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he ordered a drink, and the two of you sat in silence for a while, before he broke the silence.

“I heard your ex went missing. I just wanted to check in...uh...make sure you’re alright. I know how much he hurt you.”

The mention of your ex was like a punch to the gut, the memory of that night resurfacing with cruel clarity. You struggled to keep your composure, taking a sip of your drink to steady yourself. “I... I don’t know what happened to him.”

Kaito’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. “I just wanted to make sure he’s not plotting anything or trying to reach you again. I know what he put you through.”

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. “Thank you...but seriously I don't know anything about him.”

Before Kaito could respond, your phone buzzed again. You glanced at it and saw a new message from Chuuya: “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

You were about to reply when Kaito’s voice broke through your thoughts. “ You okay? You seem a bit lost."

You forced a smile, brushing off the concern. “It’s nothing. I just needed a bit of air.”

You stood up, glancing at Kaito. “It was really nice seeing you after all tonight.”

You placed a few yen on the bar as a tip and offered Kaito a final, appreciative look before heading towards the door. Stepping out into the cool night air, you took a deep breath, hoping the walk would clear your head. Hearing the door swung shut behind you.

The crisp breeze brushed against your face as you began walking down the pavement, each step attempting to ground you in the present, you tried to focus on the rhythmic sound of your footsteps, letting the chill seep through your coat and numb your thoughts.

Just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the soothing cadence of the night, a familiar voice cut through the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. It was a voice you knew too well, one that you loved the most—Dazai’s.

Turning slowly, you saw him standing there, his figure framed by the dim streetlights.

“Out for a late-night stroll?” His voice was low and smooth so so smooth.

"Osamu" You whispered his name, barely audible over the street noise, as he approached you. His tall frame seemed to shield you from the harsh cold breeze that had been nipping at your skin.

His arms reached out, pulling you into a desperate, intense embrace. The warmth of his body pierced through the biting cold of the night. You closed your eyes, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his captivating perfume that you were addicted to.

“How are you feeling, my love?” the vibrations of his soft voice soothed you.

You murmured a reply, “Fine,” nuzzling your face into his warm chest. His coat offered a cocoon of comfort against the cold. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that both soothed and troubled you. His soft, cold lips brushed gentle kisses against your hairline, each touch leaving you wanting more.

Dazai’s gaze softened as he tilted your head gently, his fingers brushing against your cheeks with tender.

His lips, still cold from the evening air, found yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. The sensation was electric, a jolt of warmth that spread through you, making you forget the cold that had been clinging to you just moments before.

Your lips parted slightly, and you felt his bottom lip against yours, his kiss deepening as he traced a path of warmth across your mouth. His hands roamed softly over your body, every touch sending shivers down your spine.

When he pulled away, his eyes bore into yours filled with affection. “I’ve got a surprise for you, my love,” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips.

“A surprise?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper as your heart fluttered. The night’s chill seemed to dissipate as you gazed up at him, eager to discover what he had under his sleeve.

Dazai’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he said, “Follow me, my love.” He guided you through the city streets, leading you to his penthouse—an opulent space you were intimately familiar with. As you entered, the familiar strains of soft jazz filled the room, its soothing melodies filled your ears.

You shrugged off your coat and sank into the nearby couch, glancing up at him curious.

“You know how much I cherish you, don’t you?”

You nodded, a shiver running down your spine. What is he intending to do?

“And you remember when I swore to protect you with my life, back when we shared our first night together?” His eyes bore into yours, searching for affirmation.

Again, you nodded, feeling a knot of unease tightening in your stomach.

He reached out and took your hand, leading you to a door you had never entered before. He typed in a series of digits, and the door slid open with a soft whoosh. What lay beyond sent a jolt of shock through you: Kaito, tied up against the wall with chains, his eyes wide with fear.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you stared at the scene in disbelief.

Dazai’s gaze on you never wavered. “You recognize him, don’t you? The one who claimed to be your savior,” he said, his voice carrying an edge of derision. “Kaito, the one who helped you escape. Such a noble act, don’t you think?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at the sight before you. “No... no, this can’t be real,” you stammered, the words spilling from your lips in a disbelieving murmur. “This isn’t happening. Not again.”

Dazai stepped closer, his expression both smug and infuriatingly calm. “Isn’t it? How often have you been deceived by those who promised you protection and safety? This was no different.”

You shook your head, trying to process the absurdity of it all. “But Kaito—he was different! He helped me when I needed it most. You don't understand he's the only one who saved me from my ex.”

The disillusionment in your voice only seemed to amuse Dazai. “And you think that makes him any less of a threat? How easily you’ve been misled. Did you ever consider that he was simply another pawn in your ex’s game? A way to keep you within his reach?”

Your gaze shifted to Kaito, who was now looking at you with desperation. The realization that Dazai might be telling the truth hit you like a physical blow. “No, he can’t be. He was... he was kind to me. He never hurt me.”

Dazai’s gaze was unrelenting, his tone dripping with cold logic. “Kindness can be deceiving. Sometimes, it’s just a means to an end. Kaito’s actions were a calculated move, meant to keep you under control, to make you trust him while feeding information to your ex.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you faced Dazai, the weight of his words crushing you. “You’re... you’re insane! You can’t do this to me again. STOP IT STOP HURTING ME!”

Dazai’s hand reached up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were cold and unyielding, the warmth of his voice now a sharp contrast to the icy anger in his eyes. “I’m not insane. I’m showing you the truth, my love. Kaito was never your friend. If you don’t make a choice now, I will choose for you.”

The room seemed to close in around you, your heart pounding wildly. You were ensnared between the echoes of your past and the oppressive reality Dazai had crafted, desperately searching for an escape from the nightmare he had ensnared you in.

Dazai's lips curved into a passionate smile as he placed the cold, heavy gun into your trembling hands. The weapon, tainted with the blood of your ex, seemed to burn with its own malevolent energy. His eyes gleamed with a twisted sense of pride.

“Come on, my love,” he urged, his voice laced with a seductive intensity. “Take control of your own life. Show everyone that you’re not someone to be trifled with. Make them fear you. No one dares to hurt you again.”

His words echoed through the room, mingling with the suffocating tension that surrounded you. The weight of the gun felt like a cruel burden, a symbol of the power Dazai was forcing upon you.

As you looked at Kaito, bound and vulnerable, a storm of emotions raged inside you. Dazai’s gaze remained unwavering, his expectations clear: the choice was yours to make, but his influence loomed over every decision.

The gun felt like a leaden weight in your hands, the reality of the situation crashing down upon you. Tears streamed down your face as you crumpled, the gun slipping from your grasp and clattering to the floor. Your voice, choked with despair, broke through the oppressive silence.

“I can’t do this again... not again,” you sobbed, shaking your head furiously. You pulled your legs to your chest, curling up in a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the cruelty of Dazai’s demands.

Dazai’s expression shifted from steely determination to a weary sigh. With a resigned shake of his head, he stepped forward, reclaiming the gun from where it had fallen. His movements were deliberate, almost tender, as he aimed it at Kaito, who stared back in terror.

Three shots rang out, each one echoing with finality. The sound was deafening, reverberating through the room and drowning out your anguished cries. The finality of the act left you in stunned silence, your body trembling as you remained huddled on the floor, the gravity of what had just occurred sinking in.

“No... you didn’t...” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Your eyes were fixed on the lifeless form of Kaito, disbelief and anguish washing over you.

Dazai’s sigh was heavy with disappointment as he shook his head slowly. “I’m disappointed in you, my love,” he said, his voice carrying a cold edge. “You couldn’t take control of your life this time. You think I’m the one hurting you? They’re the ones who’ve been hurting you all along.”

His gaze was unwavering, a mixture of pity and resolve in his eyes as he stepped closer. “I did this to protect you from them, to ensure that you’re never vulnerable again. It’s always been about keeping you safe from those who would harm you. I did what was necessary to shield you from your past.”

You shook your head violently, the world around you spinning as you scrambled to your feet. Adrenaline surged through your veins, propelling you to the door. You flung it open and sprinted down the hall, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Where are you going my love, please come back.” His footsteps pounded after you. “Don’t do this. I love you! This is meaningless—everything I did was to protect you!”

But you couldn’t bear to hear him anymore. “I want to stay away from you!” you screamed, your voice cracking with raw desperation.

You burst out of his penthouse and into the cold night air, the chill biting at your exposed skin. Your vision blurred with tears, making the city lights shimmer and swirl. You fumbled for your phone, dialing Chuuya’s number with trembling fingers.

The line rang a few times before a sleepy voice answered, muffled by grogginess. “Chuuya...” you gasped between breaths. “I—I'm leaving. I—will run away from here. He did it again, Chuuya.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by Chuuya’s urgent voice, now fully awake. “Where are you? Are you safe? Just stay on the line. I’m coming to get you.”

Your voice trembled as you spoke into the phone, trying to keep your words steady despite the panic swelling inside you. “Chuuya, no… don’t come. Please. I don’t want you to get into trouble. I’ll… I’ll manage to get away by myself.”

Chuuya’s voice was firm and insistent. “Don’t be stupid. I’m coming. Just tell me where you are.”

You forced yourself to keep moving, trying to steady your breath despite the adrenaline coursing through you. “Chuuya, listen to me,” you said, your voice shaking. “I just called to let you know. I need you to stay out of this. It’s too dangerous. I can’t risk you getting hurt because of me.”

“I don’t like this at all. You’re obviously not okay. I need to be there with you.” You could hear the sounds of him hurriedly getting dressed in the background.

“I’m sorry, Chuuya, but I can't-” you said firmly.

Before he could protest further, you ended the call, the sound of the disconnect echoing in the quiet of the night.

You made your way through the winding streets, heading towards a nondescript building nestled away from prying eyes. It had been your refuge years before, a place where you could escape the chaos and find peace in solitude. Now, it was the final sanctuary you turned to as you prepared to leave everything behind.

The old studio was just as you remembered it—dusty but comforting, filled with the quiet hum of memories. You approached the closet where you had stored a suitcase, its worn exterior a testament to its many years of service. You opened it, the familiar smell of old leather and fabric greeting you.

With calculated movements, you began packing the clothes you’d kept from simpler times—soft sweaters, faded jeans, and a few cherished pieces that held fragments of your past. Each item you folded and placed into the suitcase carried a piece of who you used to be, the person you were before the mafia and before Dazai.

As you worked, the thought of leaving Dazai behind gnawed at you, filling you with an intense, suffocating agony. Despite everything he had done, the idea of severing ties with him was a painful wrenching of the heart. Yet, the realization that staying would only bring more torment drove you to continue, each movement of packing a silent affirmation of your resolve.

You zipped up the suitcase, the sound of the closure echoing in the empty room. The decision to leave the city and all its shadows behind was a heavy one, but necessary. With a final glance around the studio, you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the journey ahead. The train would take you far from this place, and despite the heartache, you knew it was the only way forward.

Before you could make another move, a voice cut through the silence of the studio. "My love, are you leaving me?" The words were laced with a deep sadness, sending a jolts all over your body.

You spun around, disbelief etched across your face. "How did you find me?" you demanded, your voice trembling.

Dazai stood in the doorway with a hurt expression written all over his face.

He stepped closer sighing, "The bracelet,” he said quietly, holding up your wrist to reveal the piece of jewelry you had thought was a mere token of affection given to you two years ago. “It has a tracker embedded in it. I had it activated in case you were ever in danger.”

The weight of his words hit you like a physical blow. The realization that he had been monitoring you all along, even in your attempts to escape, left you reeling. You stared at him, your resolve faltering but your heart aching with an overwhelming confusion.

“Why did you have to follow me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Why can’t you just let me go?”

He took another step closer, his gaze pleading. “Because I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I know you're probably thinking that I’m just some insane man who’s only hurting you. But you have to understand, my actions come from a place of deep love. I need you to see past the madness and understand how much you mean to me.”

"Is this how you show love, Dazai? By trapping me and manipulating me?" you said, your voice trembling. "You don't get to decide what's best for me by controlling every aspect of my life."

Dazai's expression softened, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “I know I’ve made mistakes. I’m twisted and flawed, but I thought... I thought that if I could keep you close, I could protect you from everything else. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You shook your head, the finality of your decision settling in. “You’ve hurt me more than you know. I can’t stay here. I can't stay anxious, wondering who you’ll force me to kill next.”

Dazai’s eyes grew darker, his voice tainted with desperation. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was protecting you. Everything I did was to keep you safe in comtrol of your own life, even if it means making terrible choices.”

You scoffed, “Safe? You forced me to kill my ex! And then Kaito?”

Dazai’s face tightened. “He was a traitor. He manipulated you all this time. I told you.”

“Even if!” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you think I wanted them dead? I never wanted any of this! You think you’re protecting me, but all you’re doing is turning my life into a nightmare, forcing me to make impossible choices.”

He reached out, but you flinched away. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice cracking with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I know I’ve gone too far. I only wanted to protect you, but I see now that I’ve lost sight of what’s right.”

The realization hit you hard. “Lost sight of what’s right? You’ve lost sight of everything that matters. I’m leaving, Dazai. I can’t stay here any longer.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with pain, that you've never seen before, “Please, don’t go. I’ll do anything to make this right. Just... stay and let me fix this.”

You shook your head, “It’s too late. I can’t trust you anymore. I need to get away from this life, from you. Goodbye, Dazai.”

Turning around you held the suitcase tightly, your hand shaking as you reached for the door. Just as you were about to open it, the sharp click of a gun safety being disengaged froze you in place.

You turned slowly, your eyes widening in horror as you saw Dazai standing there. The cold, manipulative mafia boss you had come to fear and loathe was now a broken man, his usual confident demeanor shattered. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the sweat of his desperate resolve.

The gun was pressed against his temple, his hand trembling slightly. His gaze was locked onto you, the anguish in his eyes more raw than you’d ever seen. The sight was a gut-wrenching contrast to the man you had known—this was not the calculating Dazai but a man at the edge of his sanity, driven to an extreme.

“Don’t... don’t do this,” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. “Dazai, put the gun down.”

His tears fell faster, “If you leave, I can’t bear it. I’d rather end it all than live with the fact that I lost you.”

You took a step toward him, the suitcase slipping from your grip as fear and heartbreak twisted inside you. “Dazai, please. Put the gun down. We can figure this out.”

His voice trembled, a fragile whisper on the brink of breaking. “I never valued life until you entered mine. If you choose to leave, then I too must follow.”

You rushed towards him, heart pounding with desperation. As you approached, you gently took the gun from his trembling hand, lowering it to the floor. His body crumpled, and he collapsed into your embrace, clutching you tightly as if afraid you might vanish.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” you whispered soothingly, your own voice trembling as you tried to calm him. You stroked his brunet soft hair gently, your heart aching as you held him close. “It’s okay. I’m here. We’ll figure this out together.”

His sobs were muffled against your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven as he clung to you. " I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry I'm sorry.”

You continued to soothe him, the weight of his despair pressing heavily on your chest. You could see through his anguish, past the facade of his calculated mind to the raw, broken man beneath. Even as his twisted personality had driven him to force your hand, there was no denying the genuine love he felt—a love that, despite its darkness, was deeply real.

The room, dim and cold, was filled with the sound of his muffled sobs, each breath a testament to his remorse and anguish. You held him tightly, trying to offer comfort, though your own heart ached with uncertainty. You knew too well the manipulative games he played, but in this moment, you could see the truth in him. His despair was not a ploy, but a genuine expression of his torment and love.

Gently, you reached up and removed the soaked bandage from his eye. His gaze locked onto yours, filled with a sorrow so profound it was almost unbearable. His face was etched with the pain of his past actions, and as you held him, you admired his beautiful brown eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw and fragile. “I’ll never do this again. I promise. I never wanted to hurt you. I was desperate, and I let my own twisted mind control me. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’ll do everything to make this right. Please... stay with me.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerable man who had been pushed to extremes. The cold dim room seemed to shrink around you, the shadows of his past mistakes lingering but overshadowed by his sincere apology. You took a deep breath, your own heart softening despite the pain.

“I’m here,” you whispered back, your voice was soothing him.

He nodded against your shoulder, his sobs gradually subsiding as he clung to you.

“Despite everything... despite your scheming and the cold, manipulative persona you put up, you have no idea how much I love you,” you whispered, the words heavy with the depth of your emotions.

Dazai’s eyes softened as he met your gaze, his voice trembling as he replied, “I love you too, my dear.”

With those words, he kissed you softly, his lips warm and tender against yours. The delicate caress of his kiss pulled you closer, making you surrender to the embrace he offered. In that fleeting moment, the outside world faded away, leaving only the solace of his arms and the twisted love you shared.

➵Want more of Osamu Dazai ?

[bohemianblasphemy]

can you write maybe billyxreader where reader finds out he slept with maeve and it bothers them and billy reassures them that it wasn’t serious and he loves reader, and they ask him to prove it.

i love a lil angsty smut ✨

@billybutcherrtrash

Numb.

That was all that you could feel in that moment. The abundance of tension in that room where the Boys had their meeting was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

Butcher had dropped some intel for their mission to take down Homelander; the superweapon that had supposedly killed Soldier Boy, as well as a small supply of Temp V.

It was however, when he casually dropped the bombshell of how he got this information, which was in the form of sleeping with Queen Maeve.

“Purely transactional, nothin’ else.” He’d grin, before continuing the meeting as if it didn’t mean anything- especially to you.

Billy was a complicated man- He’s determined to get what he wants, even if it meant to sleep with the enemy.

Nothing could have prepared you for that news, the pressure of his words hung on you like dead weight. Uncertainties filled your mind as you thought about the obvious feelings that you and Billy shared for each other.

“Did what we have matter to him? Or was it just to fill in the void?”

It seemed that everyone besides Butcher, who was still yapping away was focused on you and how you were feeling; sending invisible messages of sympathy and pity toward you as you sat there motionless trying to subdue your pain.

Trying to avert your mind to anything else than what you just heard had proved unsuccessful, the image of him and Maeve burned into your brain.

The day was unbearably long, it was too much for you, choosing to feign illness and left for home early. Butcher saw right through your getaway, knowing deep down why you did.

As night fell, your apartment was quiet. Sitting on your small couch as you looked out the window, ruminating thoughts of his ‘transaction’ still fresh in your head.

Knocking on the door snapped you out of your thoughts as you made your way to look through the peep hole, seeing none other than Billy himself.

A part of yourself wanted to tell him to fuck off, the other begging to open the door. The latter of your thoughts won as you opened the door- Butcher waltzing in without so much as an acknowledgement.

“Well yes, of course come right in!” Your voice oozed sarcasm and annoyance as you shut the door. He snapped around to look at you.

“You ain’t sick, i know that.” he grumbled. “talk to me, i ain’t leavin’ till ya do.” You couldn’t help but scoff, crossing your arms as you stared at him- staying silent as you figured out the words to say.

“Why her, Billy?” you choked on your words, not looking him in the eye. “How could you think that was okay to sleep with someone else?” Butchers expression showed regret and annoyance at himself, punching the bridge of his nose.

“Love, it wasn’t serious. It was just for the job- nothin’ more, nothin’ less!” his voice rose. “you know the shit i gotta do for the Boys.”

“just for the job?! are you serious right now?” you echoed his words, disbelief laced through your tone. “How do you expect me to believe that?”

Silence fell over the both of you, surrounded by uncomfortable tension. “You didn’t think of me at all?” your voice cracked, Butcher looking over at you with a guilt ridden expression as he strides over to you- placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Listen to me.” he looked into your eyes, his gaze piercing through your anger. “I. Love. You. only you, you get me?” He looked for a sign in your eyes, anything to indicate how you felt.

He sighed. “Maeve and I… it was nothin’, she means nothin’ to me. Nothing like how i feel about ya. You’re the only one that matters to me, the only one i want.”

Your heart raced at his words, but the hurt you felt in your heart still lingered.

“Then prove it…”

You challenged, seeing Billy’s eyes widen.

“Show me that i am the only one you love.” you stepped toward him, the short distance closed between you.

“Oh I’ll prove it to ya alright…” he murmured, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. Before you could even speak his hand reached to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a bruising kiss.

The kiss deepened quickly, his tongue invading your mouth as he backed you up toward the nearest wall; he hands running up under your shirt and pulling it over your head.

Goosebumps formed along your now bare torso, Butchers calloused hands roaming around your body.

“God you’re just… fuckin’ stunning.” he mumbled as his lips attached to your neck and sucking a red mark onto you, making you purr.

His lips trailed further down as he sat on his knees in front of you you, his digits working on the drawstring on your pants as he pulls them down your thighs along with your underwear.

With a swift movement he turns you around, your chest pressed against the wall. His hands running up your thighs, pushing them apart.

“Bend over f’me…” he growled, his voice laced in arousal. Obeying his word, you pushed your hips backward, hands braced against the wall- hearing him groan softly at the sight before him.

You heard him shuffle forward, his large fingers dug into your fleshy backside. “I can’t get enough’f this pussy…” he whispered as he dragged his tongue along your folds, burying his face between your legs.

The sinful mix of your moans and Butchers mouth moving along you filled the room. Your legs shook as Billy continued lapping his tongue on you, occasionally smacking you ass causing you to yelp.

Your orgasm came quickly, Billy’s hands holding you up as your legs shook from the overwhelming pleasure of his skilled tongue. “God lovey, i could taste you for hours…” he chuckled, gently biting your ass cheek as he stood back up behind you, unzipping his jeans.

“I’m gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good love…” you felt him line up with you, moaning as he started to tease your sopping cunt with the tip of his cock before plunging deep inside of you.

Hot breath invaded your ear as you were pounded into from behind, Billy taking a grip of your hair.

“You feel me huh? you feel how f-fuckin’ ‘ard i am f’ya?” he grumbled, grabbing your hips roughly. “It’s all f’you. no one else but you, ya hear me?”

You couldn’t reply, the pleasure was too overwhelming for you. Rough fingers snaked down towards your middle, rubbing your sensitive clit.

You whined at the added sensation as your second release was near, Butcher nearing his as his cock pulsated within your walls.

Heavy groans erupted from behind you, his fingers moving faster as he felt you clench around him. “Fuck Billy!” you cried out, your body convulsing as your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave. “that’s a good fuckin’ girl, cum on my cock…” he growled in your ear.

His thrusts became sloppier as he came inside you. “fuck… i can’t get over you, my sweetheart…” he praised, turning you around and bringing you in for a passionate kiss.

Pulling away from the kiss he looked you, looking in your eyes - hoping to find a glimpse of convincing you of his love.

Your eyes look at him with a neutral expression.

“As good as that was…” you giggled, moving your mouth closer to his ear.

“it’s gonna take a lot more convincing…”

[comically-callous]

What the wind blows in

Logan Howlett x gn!Reader

Warnings!!: Some language (barely), reader has a dead dad, but it’s not a significant part of the story. I think that’s it

A/n: This is heavily inspired by the scene in X-Men Origins where Logan is taken in by those nice old people. But, it’s supposed to take place maybe a day after X-Men origins. I liked writing it. Might do a part 2 if enough of you ask for it 😋 Requests are open. Please send me X-Men requests. Please. PLEASE. PLEASE!!!!!!!!

As soon as you got off of the bus, cold winter air seemed to bite at your exposed skin, sending a small shiver down your spine as you began to walk down the long, winding road that would eventually lead to your your home.

When you’d left the house for some groceries earlier that day, you’d figured you’d be fine with just a coat. But, now you were internally ridiculing your past self for not grabbing some gloves and maybe even a hat or scarf on your way out.

Your fit of self discipline was interrupted when you caught a glimpse of the door to your old barn closing. You stopped, staring at the door for a moment to see if it would move again. When it remained motionless, you began cautiously walking toward your front door, eyes never leaving the barn for more than a second.

As soon as you were inside, you locked the door and went to swiftly put the paper grocery bags down on the counter. You’d worry about putting them away later. Right now you had to make sure there wasn’t an intruder on your property.

Arming yourself with a kitchen knife, you walked back to the front of your house and peeked out of the small window on the front door. It didn’t look like anything was out there. That would have to be good enough.

You stepped outside, holding out the knife, and cautiously walked over to the barn.

You would’ve liked to have been calm in this situation, like some badass that wasn’t afraid of anything. But, truthfully you were pretty terrified. If there was someone in the barn, were you supposed to just tell them to leave? What if they try to attack? You’re not mentally prepared to kill someone; even if it is out of self defense!

With a deep breath (that did nothing to ease your nerves), you opened the barn door.

It was quiet and there weren’t any visible signs that someone had been there.

“Hello?” You called out, immediately comparing yourself to the first character to die in a bloody horror movie. God, you hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

You swore you heard some shuffling somewhere in the barn and you had to refrain from screaming and sprinting back to the house. Swallowing down your fear, you walked into the barn, eyes sweeping over the area until you finally saw him.

On the floor of the barn, practically curled up into himself and shivering was a man in clothing that was absolutely not appropriate for the weather.

“What are you doing?” You immediately asked, grip on the knife tightening.

He looked up from his spot on the ground and for a moment when you were looking at those big, brown eyes you felt a twinge of sympathy.

“I don’t wanna cause any trouble.” The man said, raising his hands slightly so that you could see them. “I was just….” He let out a sort of huff. “I was freezing out there.”

Your guard lowered just slightly. “Why were you out here in the freezing cold anyway?”

“I….” He trailed off. You should’ve assumed he was coming up with a lie. That’s what any rational person would think. But, something about his expression made it seem like he was genuinely trying to figure out why he was out here. “I was looking for the nearest town.” He finally said. He took a pause, looking a bit frustrated with himself as he spoke his next sentence. “Listen, I don’t have anywhere I can go. I don’t even know what state I’m in, and I’ve been aimlessly walking down empty roads looking for some kind of civilization for…. I mean, probably for hours now. I just need somewhere warm to rest for a while.” You could tell he was trying to explain his situation calmly, but he was still shaking like a leaf from the cold.

“Just let me stay in here for a night.” He said. “I promise you won’t even know I’m here.”

You looked at him in silence for a moment, thinking it over. Caution lights definitely should’ve been going off in your head. If you were making rational decisions today, you wouldn’t have ever even come out here. You would’ve stayed in your house and called the police the second you suspected a trespasser. But, now you were here, and now this cold, and frankly pathetic man was asking (almost begging) to stay here. And maybe you were an idiot for feeling sympathy for a guy that was technically breaking and entering. But, in the moment, none of that mattered and none of that changed your answer.

“Get up and follow me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Get up and follow me.” You repeated. “I don’t want you to freeze to death out here.”

And that’s how you ended up with a stranger in your house.

The first thing you did was give him a warm blanket which he gladly wrapped around himself. Next you lit the fireplace.

“What’s your name?” You asked as you stood and walked to the kitchen to finally put your groceries away.

“Logan.” He replied. “You?”

“Y/n.”

Logan hummed in acknowledgment. “This is a nice place you’ve got, Y/n.”

“Oh, thanks.” You glanced up at him. “My dad gave it to me.”

“Your dad gave it to you?” He repeated with a sarcastic chuckle. “He must be loaded.”

“Oh, no. I mean-“ You cleared your throat. “Uh, I inherited it. When he died.” You said awkwardly.

“Oh.” Logan’s face fell and he looked away.

You cringed internally and quickly changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”

“Uh-“

You interrupted him before he had the chance to decline. “I’ll make you something.” You turned away and began pulling ingredients from your fridge to make a sandwich. You made it in silence. He ate it in silence (apart from a muttered “thank you” that he gave you when you initially gave him the food).

You were the one to finally say something.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking….” You began. “Are you, um…. Homeless?” You asked carefully.

Logan chuckled dryly. “Something like that.” He replied.

“And you said you don’t know what state you’re in?”

“Nope.”

“Virginia.”

“Jesus.” He muttered, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Logan glanced over. “Just not anywhere close to where I thought I might be.”

You wanted to ask more questions. Ask how he ended up here, where he was planning on going, if he really didn’t have anywhere he could go. But, you figured he probably didn’t want to answer a lot of questions right now. So, you instead made an offer.

“You can stay here for the night if you need to.”

He looked over to you, looking a bit confused, maybe surprised. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged.

Logan chuckled dryly. “You make a habit out of trusting strangers this much?”

“No.” You answered truthfully.

“No?” He repeated. “What’s so special about me?”

You swore he gave you a quick Look up and down. But, you told yourself you were seeing things. You told yourself you didn’t see his lips almost twitch into a smirk.

Instead of answering the question, you got up and straightened your clothes a bit. “Do you need anything?” You asked.

Logan leaned back a bit, clearing his throat. “Some warmer clothes would be nice.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh— Sure thing.”

You sort of left Logan alone for a while (other than giving him some of your dad’s old clothes and showing him the guest bedroom where he would sleep for the night). It was mostly because you didn’t want to admit that he’d flustered you earlier and you didn’t want to give him the opportunity to fluster you again.

But, alas, your hospitable nature got the better of you. The sun had gone down and the soft ambient noises of nature shifted from birds chirping to crickets.

You knocked on the door to the room Logan was in, holding a fluffy blanket.

“Yeah?” He called from inside the room.

“I’ve got something for you.”

A brief pause. “Come in.”

You entered and tried giving a small, polite smile to him.

“I worried you might be cold.” You said, holding up the blanket a bit as if he couldn’t clearly see it already. You walked over and set it on the bed next to him, still neatly folded up from when you grabbed it from the closet you kept all of the towels and blankets in.

“You don’t have to use it. I just figured I should bring it, y’know, just in case. Um—“ you shifted a bit awkwardly. “If you need anything else, my room is right down the hall. So, feel free to as-“

“Why’re you being so nice to me?” He asked, cutting you off.

You paused briefly, not knowing how you should answer that. When you finally did answer, it wasn’t really a proper reply to what he said. “What?”

“You’re being oddly sweet to a guy you only met today after he broke into your private property.” Logan said plainly. “Why? You’ve got every reason not to trust me, and yet, here you are, giving me extra blankets cause you’re worried I’ll get cold.”

Okay, well, when he put it like that, it made you sound like an idiot. Now you really didn’t know what to say. You just stood in silence for a moment before speaking again. “I don’t know.” That definitely wasn’t the kind of answer that was helpful at all. You continued. “You needed help. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Logan took a moment before shaking his head. “There aren’t many people in the world who do stuff like this without asking for something in return.”

You shrugged. “Well, maybe I’m one of the few that just wants to be nice.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment. He just looked at you. He looked at you like he was trying to figure you out, like if he looked hard enough he’d know if you were telling the truth. “You’re good.” He finally decides.

“Thanks?” You reply, the compliment catching you off guard a little bit.

“Too good. Guys like me don’t deserve to be treated nice by people like you.”

You shake your head. “I disagree.”

“Yeah, that’s cause you don’t know me.” Logan chuckles dryly, but you don’t laugh.

“I mean it. If I thought you were a bad guy, I would’ve called the police by now.”

He hummed. “Can’t argue with that.” He said. “Still, I wouldn’t consider myself a good person.”

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” You decide, giving Logan a small smile.

Logan chuckles softly. “You’re like an angel.”

Your face immediately begins to heat up and you turn away so he doesn’t see your flustered state. “Thanks, uh…. I’ll let you get your sleep now.” You try your best to sound casual as you walk to the door.

“Y/n.” Logan calls before you can shut the door behind you. You turn back to him and hope that the darkness of the hallway hides your flushed cheeks. “Thank you.” He says sincerely, his eyes not leaving yours for a second.

You take in a deep breath. “It’s not a problem.” A beat passes. “Goodnight.”

As you walk down the hall to your room, you find yourself silently hoping that Logan’s stay lasts a little longer than just tonight.

[rynwritesreid]

Mind games~Spencer Reid

Chapter three~ nothing’s new

Chapter summary: The FBI gives you time off, allowing you time to heal after what happened to you. But after news spreads, someone from your past contacts you, making old wounds resurface, making you turn to none other than Spencer Reid.

Chapter warnings: Talks about the BDSM community and BDSM dynamics. Talks of fainting. Submissive reader and dominant Spencer. Alcohol consumption. Mentions of what happened to you in the previous chapter but nothing serious. Reader cries but Spencer comforts her. Mentions of emotional wounds from previous relationships.

A/N: I might start releasing these every week instead of every other week, but I am not sure. I also hope this is a good description of what BDSM and specifically D/S relationships are like, I know that community gets a lot of really bad stories written about them.

~mind game’s masterlist~

~join the mind games taglist~

Everyone on the team had been looking after you, making sure you were okay. Spencer, however, had been a godsend. He would send you texts throughout the day, even though the man hated technology. He had opened up to you about what he had been through, maybe in hopes of you opening up, or maybe he just wanted to show you he knew how you were feeling. But you didn’t really care, you were just happy that he was no longer horrible towards you.

 

You did want to open to Spencer, to everyone, and let them know what you had seen, but you just couldn’t. And the fact that people from academy had been texting you, telling you they had heard what happened and that they couldn’t imagine how you felt, just made it worse.

It had also made it back to your ex-boyfriend, who after 1 and a half years of ignoring your texts, had decided to call you. Part of you wanted to ignore the call, to push away any connection to the past. But another part of you was curious about what he had to say after all this time.

 

Taking a deep breath, you answered the call. His voice sounded distant and strained as he spoke, "Hey... I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry."

 

The sincerity in his tone surprised you, and for a moment, you were reminded of why you had loved him in the first place. But then reality set in, reminding you of the pain and heartbreak he had caused.

 

"I appreciate your sympathy," you replied coolly, trying to maintain a sense of composure. "But I'm doing my best to move forward."

 

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could almost hear him searching for the right words.

 

"I understand if you don't want to hear from me anymore," he finally said, his voice filled with regret. "I just wanted you to know that I've changed. I've done a lot of soul-searching and therapy since we broke up. I wish I could have been there for you when you needed me."

 

Your grip on the phone tightened as his words struck a chord within you. The longing for closure and understanding warred with the pain and bitterness that still lingered from your past.

 

"It's too late now," you replied, your voice laced with a mixture of anger and sadness. "You had your chance, and you blew it."

 

There was silence on the other end, and you could almost picture him taking in a deep breath before speaking again.

 

"You're right," he said quietly. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I hope that someday, maybe, you can find it in your heart to let go of the hurt I caused."

 

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words hit you like a wave crashing onto the shore. The pain of his betrayal resurfaced, threatening to engulf you once again. Part of you wanted to believe in his sincerity, to believe that people could change. But another part of you feared being hurt all over again.

 

"I don't know if I can ever forgive you," you managed to say, your voice trembling with emotion. You didn’t care what he had to say anymore, so you just hung up.

 

You couldn’t hold back any more and you just began to sob. You picked up your phone and decided to call Spencer, it probably would have been smarter to call one of the girls, Spencer wasn’t the only one who understood what you had gone through, but Spencer was the only one who could truly understand you.

 

As the phone rang, your tears continued to flow, blurring your vision and making it difficult to see. The weight of your emotions felt like an anchor dragging you down into a sea of despair. Each ring seemed to echo in the cavernous void of loneliness that had enveloped you.

 

Finally, Spencer's voice broke through the haze of your anguish. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his tone filled with concern.

 

You tried to steady your voice, but it came out choked with sobs. "Spencer," you managed to utter between gasps for air. "I... I need you."

 

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Spencer's voice softened with understanding. "I'm here for you," he said gently. "Take all the time you need, and when you're ready, I'll be right by your side."

 

“I’m ready now Spencer, please.” In that moment, you could hear the urgency in your own voice, the desperation for comfort and solace. The pain of your past relationship had resurfaced, triggering a deep yearning for someone who truly understood you. And Spencer, with his unwavering support and compassion, was the only person who could provide that.

 

Silence lingered on the other end of the line, and you wondered if perhaps you had overwhelmed him with your sudden vulnerability. But just as doubt began to creep in, Spencer's voice filled the void once again.

 

"I'm on my way," he said firmly, his words laced with determination. "Stay where you are. I'll be there as soon as I can."

 

Relief washed over you like a gentle tide, easing some of the turmoil in your heart. You trusted Spencer implicitly; his presence was a balm to your wounded soul.

 

Spencer rushed into Hotch’s office, telling him that you needed someone with you right now, and that he will be back to work as soon as he can be.

 

And Spencer, a man who was always true to his word, was at your door within 20 minutes.

 

You opened the door, your tear-streaked face betraying the pain you had been holding inside. Spencer took one look at you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. The warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, brought a sense of security that you hadn't felt in a long time.

 

"I'm here," he whispered softly into your ear, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You're not alone anymore."

 

You clung to him, seeking solace in his presence, as he led you to the couch and sat down beside you. “You don't have to face this pain by yourself”, his voice was calming, “everyone on the team loves you, they all would be here in a heartbeat for you. I mean they are discussing what to get you for when you come back to work.”

 

You let out a weak laugh, the first sign of a smile since the whole ordeal began. It was comforting to know that you had a support system, a group of people who truly cared about you.

 

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I don't know where I would be without all of you."

 

Spencer's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes filled with genuine compassion. "You're stronger than you think," he assured you softly. "And we'll be right here with you every step of the way."

 

In that moment, as you sat there with Spencer by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope. The pain and heartache were still present, but now they were tempered by the love and support surrounding you.

 

“Would you like to talk about what happened, or is there something else on your mind?”

 

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were ready to relive the details of the past, but then you realized that Spencer was right. It was time to face what had happened and start the healing process.

 

Taking a deep breath, you began to share your story. The words tumbled out, sometimes in a rush, other times choked with emotion. Spencer listened attentively, never interrupting or judging. He offered gentle words of encouragement, his presence a constant reminder that you were not alone.

 

As you recounted the painful memories, it felt like a weight was being lifted off your shoulders. Each word spoken was an act of defiance against the pain that had consumed you for so long. And with each passing minute, you felt a little bit stronger.

 

When you finally finished, there was a silence that hung in the air, as if the weight of your story needed a moment to settle in. Spencer broke the stillness with a soft sigh.

 

"I'm so sorry," he said sincerely, “you should never have had to have gone through that. He will rot in prison. And that ex of yours, he did not deserve you.”

 

You nodded, grateful for Spencer's unwavering support and understanding. His words were like a soothing balm to your wounded soul, validating the pain you had endured. Your heart ached with the realization that you had been in a toxic relationship, but knowing that you were no longer alone gave you the strength to move forward.

 

"Thank you, Spencer," you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes once again. "I don't know how I would have made it through this without you."

 

Spencer's gaze softened, his hand gently wiping away your tears. "You don't have to thank me," he said softly. "Being there for you is what friends do. We look out for each other."

 

The word "friends" lingered in the air, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between you and Spencer. The connection you shared felt deeper than mere friendship, but you were both still healing from past wounds. It was too soon to explore those feelings, and not long ago, Spencer had shown his dislike for you.

 

*

 

After about two weeks, you were back in the bullpen. Garcia had decorated your desk, telling you that this always make her feel better and she thought it would do the same to you, JJ and Emily informed you on all the gossip you had missed, Hotch had gone full dad mode on you, making sure you were okay, Rossi had invited you over to his for a private cooking lesson, Morgan had told you all the pranks he had pulled on Spencer. Spencer on the other hand seemed to keep his distance, he had smiled at you, but ever since that day he had come over something seemed to have changed.

 

You couldn't put your finger on it, but there was a palpable shift in the dynamics between you and Spencer. He was still kind and supportive, but there was a subtle hesitancy in his interactions with you. It was as if he was holding back, as if there were unresolved emotions swirling beneath the surface.

 

You desperately wanted to address it, to talk to Spencer about what had transpired between you, but you feared that doing so might jeopardize the fragile bond you had built. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if he saw you as nothing more than a friend and confidant?

 

You pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the work at hand. The team had a new case, one that required their full attention. As you discussed the details with your teammates, you noticed Spencer's gaze linger on you for a moment longer than necessary. It was a fleeting look, but enough to make your heart skip a beat.

 

Throughout the day, you found yourself stealing glances at Spencer whenever you could. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, a connection that had grown stronger during your time of need. But you both had been through so much already, and neither of you wanted to rush into anything without being sure.

 

As the case progressed, Spencer's presence beside you became more prominent. He would stand just a little too close, his hand brushing against yours as he passed you a file or offered his insights. It was subtle, but it spoke volumes about what he was feeling.

 

Even JJ had commented on it, asking if something was going on between the two of you, but you assured her nothing was going on. But the truth was, you weren't quite sure how to define whatever it was that was happening between you and Spencer.

 

*

 

After the case was over, the team decided to go out for celebratory drinks. This was the first time you had gone out since what had happened to you. You were sat in-between JJ and Garcia, they were both talking about their funniest sex stories and you couldn't help but laugh along with them, grateful for the distraction from your own thoughts. Across the table, Spencer was engaged in a lively conversation with Rossi and Morgan, his laughter ringing out in the crowded bar.

 

You don’t know what compelled you, but you decided to share yours, and you were almost certain Spencer couldn’t hear you.

 

“If you want to mine”, you paused, allowing the girls to give you their full attention, “I told my ex that I was into BDSM and he thought that just meant me calling him daddy. So, when I told him what I was really into, he nearly fainted. It was definitely an interesting and eye-opening experience." The girls burst into laughter, their faces turning red from the combination of alcohol and amusement.

 

The sound caught Spencer's attention, his ears perking up as he turned his head towards you. His eyes locked with yours, and you could've sworn there was a flicker of interest in them.

 

"Wait, what did I miss?" he asked, leaning closer to catch the tail end of the conversation.

 

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you glanced at the girls. JJ nudged you playfully, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

 

"Oh, Y/N's just regaling us with her kinky adventures," Garcia chimed in with a teasing smirk.

 

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and surprise evident on his face. "Is that so?" he asked, trying to hide a smile.

 

You shifted in your seat, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. The playful conversation seemed to have opened a door, allowing for a light-hearted connection between you and Spencer. You took a deep breath, deciding to seize the moment.

 

"Yeah, well, it was definitely an experience," you replied, matching his playful tone. "But let's just say, I've learned my lesson about dating vanilla guys."

 

Spencer chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I can assure you, I'm far from vanilla," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

 

JJ and Garcia exchanged knowing glances, silently urging you to take the plunge. They had seen the connection between you and Spencer long before either of you had acknowledged it, and they were more than ready to play matchmakers.

 

"So," Garcia interjected with a sly grin, "are we going to sit here and talk about kinks all night, or are you two going to finally address the elephant in the room?"

 

“I-erm what elephant?” you asked, there was hint of confusion in your voice.

 

“Oh, come on.” JJ stated “Even when Spencer hated you, he couldn’t take his eyes of you.”

 

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly, his gaze shifting nervously between you and JJ. You could see the internal battle raging within him, the fear of rejection warring with his desire for something more.

 

Finally, Spencer took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to speak. "I... I have to admit," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even when I claimed to dislike you, I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards you. You're intelligent, compassionate, and..." He trailed off, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reciprocation.

 

A warm smile spread across your face as you reached across the table, gently placing your hand on top of Spencer's. "And what?" you prompted softly.

 

He let out a shaky laugh, his fingers intertwining with yours. "And beautiful," he finished, his voice filled with sincerity.

 

JJ and Garcia exchanged triumphant glances as their matchmaking efforts paid off.

 

“You know, I think it’s time you two go home, so you can discuss this somewhere Hotch can’t hear you.” Emily said in a hushed tone.

 

You and Spencer laughed, realizing that your friends were right. It was time to have a more private conversation about the growing feelings between you. As the night came to an end, you and Spencer found yourselves outside the bar, away from prying ears.

 

The air was crisp, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. You leaned against the side of the building, facing Spencer who stood only a few feet away. There was a comfortable silence between you as you both took a moment to collect your thoughts.

 

Finally, Spencer spoke up, his voice filled with vulnerability. "I never meant to push you away before. I was scared...scared of opening myself up to someone, scared of getting hurt. But seeing what you went through, how strong you were...it made me realize how much I care about you."

 

Your heart swelled at his words, grateful for his honesty. "Spencer, I understand why you acted the way you did. We've all been hurt before, and we all have our own ways of protecting ourselves," you replied softly. "But I want you to know that I care about you too, and I'm willing to take the risk if it means we can be together."

 

Spencer's eyes met yours, filled with a mix of relief and hope. "You would really give us a chance?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

A gentle smile tugged at your lips as you stepped closer to him. "Yes, Spencer, I would. I would give us a chance," you confirmed, your voice filled with certainty. "Because the truth is, Spencer, I've been falling for you ever since the first case I worked.”

 

Spencer's eyes widened, surprise mingling with joy. "Really? Even when I was being an insufferable jerk?"

 

You chuckled softly. "Especially then," you admitted. “But I do have to know what you mean when you say your far from vanilla.”

 

Spencer blushed, his cheeks turning a shade of crimson. "Well," he stammered, "I've always had a... deep fascination with role-playing scenarios and exploring different power dynamics." He paused, his gaze searching yours for any sign of judgment or discomfort. “And I can say I enjoy being the dominant one more.”

 

“Is that so? What have been your favourite scene you’ve done so far?”

 

Spencer cleared his throat, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "Well, one of my favourite scenes involved a classic teacher-student dynamic," he confessed, his voice laced with excitement. "I got to play the strict professor, and she was my eager and naughty student."

 

Your eyebrows raised in surprise and curiosity. "Oh? And how did that play out?"

 

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Let's just say there were some detentions and extra credit assignments involved," he replied coyly. "It was all about the power play and the thrill of breaking the rules within the safety of our consensual role-playing."

 

He then once again looked to see if you were unconformable. “What about you? What do you enjoy.” He asked.

“I, erm- well I enjoy being the submissive one. I was in a dynamic relationship with someone, and they gave me a necklace to wear, to show I belonged to them. They used to tell me what outfits I could wear when going out.”

 

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Did you enjoy the feeling of submission, or was it more about the trust and surrender that came with it?" he asked gently, his voice filled with genuine interest.

 

You took a moment to consider his question before answering honestly. "It was a combination of both," you replied, your voice soft but unwavering. "There was something incredibly liberating about giving up control and trusting someone else to take care of me. It allowed me to let go of my responsibilities and just be in the moment."

 

Spencer nodded, a thoughtful look on his face as he took in your words. "I understand," he said quietly. "The power dynamics in BDSM can be incredibly nuanced and fulfilling when both parties are open and communicative about their desires and boundaries."

 

"Would you ever consider exploring that dynamic with me?" you asked cautiously, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. “I mean, I would still be the submissive one.”

 

Spencer’s eyes softened, filled with warmth and reassurance. He reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "I would be honoured to explore that dynamic with you," he replied softly. "But only if we establish clear boundaries, practice open communication, and ensure that both of our needs are met."

 

You smiled, relieved by his understanding and respect for the importance of consent and communication in such exploration. "I couldn't agree more," you murmured, leaning into his touch. "We'll take it slow, step by step, and create a safe space for both of us to express ourselves."

~taglist~

@iluvreid @drspencerreidsthings @amatheuni@i-heart-mgg @Liidiaaag@wyntersstuff@brilliantreid @donttrustlove@btsiguess-kpop @bellesmith628 @lunaticgurly @Oureternalbond@somethingsmart123 @ula-revolution @pleasantwitchgarden @vvampwebb @alysena2 @sujan39 @nini123 @xoxo-lyss @rory-cakes @marantha @http0kms0jpg @peppersapro @mommymilkers3000@spicycalabaza @shinixpo@dr-reidsslut@donttrustlove@miss.dianaa@potatochip-111 @stars-n-stuff15 @nugget1234567@00047c@carley12041@earth2stxr@cosavuoi-me@sewmxx @bibissparkles @frgtmenotes @mdanon027 @drreidsfavwhxre@yourfavoritefangirl @sunnyyyyyyyynnus @mega-kittyglitter-1 @loliakeoghan23 @7bel-o@dreamsarebig @kohordosara16@ashlynt @waywardhunter95 @millreid0607@spencerstits @ruby-d1amond @harrrystyles5 @maoricth @sarcasm-and-stiles @r-3dlips @khxna @k3nz13a @reidtopia @danelhi@fictionallifestuff @girl_lost_not_found@bbggarcia@b0nesnotcals@super-btstrash-posts @blacksoul-27@reidsgirlhottie@alexxavicry @olives-and-sunshine @skulliecadaver-blog

[atarathegreat]

What a Bad Girl John Price

"This is stupid." You groaned, tilting back in your chair, "She was my partner for another class."

"Hush. You're in here for talking, remember?" Your teacher, Mr. Price, chuckled. He was usually very nice to all the students and didn't mind a lot of talking, so long as you got your work done. Maybe today was just a rough day for him, but you didn't care. You were a teen, snarky, and pissed off that your favorite teacher had put you in detention. Who did he think he was?

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, not really feeling sympathy for whatever he may or may not have felt, "You always let us talk! What made today so different?"

If you weren't getting on his nerves, John would've thought that your little outburst was endearing. Bad luck, but you were on his last nerve.

"Maybe you just need to go and get laid. Then you'll be nicer." He didn't miss the way you looked him up and down, crossing your arms as you tilted your chair back again. You wanted to get on his nerves and piss him off. He'd have to give in and tell you to leave eventually.

Right?

Instead, your teacher chuckled and leaned forward on his desk, "I advise you mind your business about sex lives, darling. Worry about your own."

It wasn't a secret that you liked to hide away with whoever your boyfriend was at the time, but to hear an older man tell you to mind your own business sent a chill up your spine. "What can I say? I have daddy issues." You shrugged, thinking you had won and found the way you would break him down. John chuckled again and it was like a feather over your skin. A small part of you had always been a little attracted to him, maybe even fantasized that you weren't in the restroom with your boyfriend but your teacher. It wasn't your boyfriend pushing into you, but your favorite teacher.

"Daddy issues, hmm? Should I worry that somethings going on at home?" John leaned forward, smirking. Something about the light blush that dusted your cheeks made him happy. "Or maybe you brought it up because you want to help me unwind, hmm, princess?"

Fuck. How'd he switch this around on you?

"C'mere." John rolled his chair back, "Either get under the desk, or you're free to leave."

You got up and gathered your things, you'd be damned if you missed this chance. With your bag tucked behind his desk, you crawled under and got comfortable, "How am I supposed to help from down here?"

"Never sucked dick before, princess? It's okay. I'll teach you." John chuckled, rolling back into his desk. "Go ahead and try, sweets. I'll fix anything that's wrong." John uncapped his pen and went back to grading the papers.

What were you supposed to do now? His pants were on, and his belt was fastened. Were you supposed to undo it? How? He was sitting! Your boyfriends were always just pushing their shorts down and shoving you into a stall. Should this have been easier? After the moment of you having your thoughts, John reached down and tugged on his belt, only undoing it a little, "Don't be shy, princess. Go ahead."

Okay, so it was your task. The leather of his belt was warm as you pulled it from the buckle, building a warmth in your gut with anticipation. "Good girl. Keep going." His praise made the heat liquify, feeling heavy as you moved to sit on your knees and pull on the zipper. Joint effort helped you pull his cock out, and he settled his balls over the fabric. You were stunned. He was thick, had big balls, and his tip wasn't leaking. Was he really into this?

"Easy, princess. I'm not easy like your little boyfriends."

"Not as small, either." You mumbled, and it made John chuckle, "How am I supposed to fit you in my mouth?"

"Don't worry about that yet. Just explore to your hearts content." John had no idea you would jump at the chance to wrap those pretty lips around the head of his cock. He took a deep breath, sounding like a stressed teacher to anyone oblivious to the goings on. The way you swirled your tongue around his head and then over his slit nearly has him gripping the desk. Instead, he reached under the desk and stroked your cheek, "Good girl, keep doing that for a minute, fuck."

The hunger for his praise was new, but you did as he asked in hopes of earning more. Already, his tip had your mouth stretched wide, making you worry about how you'd really manage to take him. But if he praised you, then you'd do anything.

"Alright, luv. Take me slow." His fingers wrapped around the back of your head, "Slow and steady, there ya go..." John groaned as more of his shaft sunk into your mouth, feeling your tongue against every vein was driving him crazy. "Deep breath." He fisted your hair, waiting until your lungs were full before diving into your throat, "Breathe out slow. If your lungs hurt, tap my leg, and we'll give you a break."

The wetness of your mouth was heavenly, warm, and the way you gagged only tightened your throat around his meaty cock, pleasuring him. Gentle thrusts put him deep in your neck, and when he reached down, he could feel the way your neck bulged from him. It made him crazy. "Change of plans, luv." John fixed his position, "Just, fuck, just do your best to breath."

John gripped the back of your head to his pelvis, jerking his hips into your face again and again, loving how your soft lips cushioned his balls as he forced his dick as deep as it would go. "Fuck, princess! Perfect, bloody perfect! Suck as best you can..."

And when you did, he fell apart. Both of his hands cupped your cheeks, and he stood, getting better thrusts into your throat. "Like that, princess. Good fucking girl." The way you whined made his gut tighten, "Fuck Fuck Fuck! Swallow, baby! Swallow everything Daddy gives you."

[gunilslaugh]

Best Of The Worst

Han Hyeongjun  Summary: Your bad luck was never ending. After escaping two dangerous situations you now found yourself face to face with villain Han Hyeongjun. (non-idol au) WC:~1.5k Warning:none

part 2 part 3 epilogue!

photo not mine credits to owner.

First it was the queen of the kingdom. She wanted you dead. Why? Because you found that her son, the prince, was illegitimate. He was not of the king’s blood, but rather a blacksmith’s. How you found this information out was because you have the best (worst) timing in the world. As a castle maid you were doing your daily cleaning. Once you finished shining the silverware you headed out to the back to gather the drying laundry from the lines.

“You can’t keep me away from my son forever. I have the right to see him!” A man who you recognized as a local blacksmith yelled.

“You have no right! He is the king’s son and has no clue who you even are!” The queen yelled back. You froze in your tracks briefly before quickly turning around to head back inside. 

“Stop, you there! Tell me where the prince is!” the blacksmith demanded. You immediately knew that you were screwed, but this guy was a mere blacksmith, so you didn’t have to listen to his order. You kept walking, holding onto a mere slimmer of hope that you could get away.

“Halt!” the queen ordered. Now you were definitely screwed. 

“Yes, your royal highness?” You turned around to face the queen. 

“Escort this man off the castle’s grounds and tell the guards to never let him enter again,” she told you while shooting an icy glare at the blacksmith.  

“Understood your highness,” you bowed slightly. “Follow me sir,” you say. 

“You can’t do this! You vile women! He’s my son!” You felt the hole you already found yourself in grow deeper.

“I suggest you follow the maid before I call the guards,” the queen threatened. 

“This isn’t over.” The blacksmith points a finger at the queen. To which the queen scoffs unimpressively. “Also bring me tea once you're done showing him out,” the queen tells you walking back inside.  It felt like she was placing a nail in your coffin. 

“Please follow me sir,” you said hopelessly. 

After telling the guards that the blacksmith was to never set foot on castle grounds again you thought about running away. You knew no good was going to come from bringing the queen her tea, but you figured that running away would be worse, she’d probably send the guards after you. So you made up her tea as slowly as possible and took the long way to the queen’s room. 

Once you arrived at the queen’s room you softly knocked on the door. 

“I have your tea, your highness,” you announced. 

“Enter!” You heard from the other side of the door. You took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside of the room. You walked the tea over to the table, setting it down. 

You were about to take your leave when, “Sit,” the queen ordered you. You tentatively looked at the chair. Letting out an inaudible sigh you sit down. “I know you heard,” she states. 

“Heard what your highness?” You played dumb. 

“I get that you’re playing dumb to save your own ass, but it won’t work. I know you know and I can’t have that,” the queen says. 

“I’ll leave the castle, the kingdom even,” you tried. 

“Even outside of the castle, the kingdom, the problem is you can still talk. You’ve been a good maid all these years and I’m grateful for your service, so please understand that I don’t take getting rid of you lightly.” She looked at you with sympathy and your heart sank. 

“Get rid of me?” you asked tentatively. You already knew what she meant though. 

“I’ll have the morticians dress you elegantly as a sort of payment,” the queen smiled at you. 

“Please, your highness. I won’t tell anybody. I swear on my life!” you pleaded.

“I’m sorry I can’t take any chances. Guards!” the queen called. Two guards busted into the room. “Kill this maid, discreetly. Be quick with it. They are just an unfortunate victim,” she tells them. The guards are quick to grab you and drag you away. 

You tried to plead with the guards until your throat went raw. They never listened. They drug you into the back of a wagon where they then shoved and locked you in a wooden crate. No matter how hard you banged, kicked, you were locked in. 

Eventually the sound of the wagon moving stopped and you could now hear the sound of a waterfall. Your stomach drops. They were gonna throw you down the waterfall into the lake below. “They’re just an unfortunate victim.” The queen's words now made sense. They were gonna make it look like you drowned. You felt the wooden crate you were locked in being lifted. You took a breath as if it would matter as you felt yourself being thrown. Then everything went black. 

When you came to you were laying in a cave that was just behind the waterfall. You survived? How could you have possibly survived? 

“You're awake? If you didn’t wake up soon I was gonna have a nice meal for tonight.” You look down at the water that was at the front of the cave. There he was, the siren, that was rumored to live in the lake. Apparently the rumor was true, but why would he save you?

“You saved me?” You sat up. The siren swims closer to you, stopping where the water meets the cave floor. 

“I just pulled you out of the water. You woke up on your own,” he clarified. 

“Well…thanks I guess,” you say. The siren laughed. 

“Aren’t you curious why I pulled you out of the water?” he asked.

“Why?” 

“At first I was gonna have you for dinner, but then I saw that pretty face of yours and I thought I would keep you instead,” he smiled. 

“Keep me?” you questioned. 

“Yes, keep you. You can live here in this cave with me. Your clothes are those of the castle maids. Which means you’re probably very obedient,” He looked at you with hungry eyes. “I haven’t had a companion for a long time.” He started to pull himself out of the water. You think your situation just went from bad to worse. 

“As nice as that sounds. I should get going?” You stood up. 

“Go where? Back to the castle? I saw the castle guards throw you over, so I’m pretty sure you won’t be going back there,” the siren said. 

“I’ll go see my family. I haven’t gotten to see them much since becoming a maid,” you told. 

“Come on, I'm lonely. Stay with me for a few days,” he bargained. 

“And become fish food at the end? No thanks,” you declined. 

“You’re a smart one, but how do you plan on getting out of here? Are you gonna swim? We both know I’ll catch you,” he taunted. 

“Sure you can easily catch me with your swimming skills, but how are your climbing skills?” you challenged. 

“What?” the siren asked. You gestured to the cave behind you. “You won’t be able to find a way out,” he tells you. 

“I’ll find that out myself.” With that you ran deeper into the cave, looking for an exit. 

By the grace of God you did find a way out. It was high and a very precarious climb, but you made it. You escaped the cave. 

“Guess the siren is gonna have to find some new dinner,” a menacing voice states. You sigh. First it was the queen, then it was a siren, now it’s Hyeongjun. Who is known for not being afraid of getting his hands bloody. 

“I give up,” you state, head falling into the palms of your hands. 

“Oh come one. I haven’t even done anything yet,” he says. He crouches down to where you sit on the dirt. 

“What will you do?” you question. 

“Don’t know. I’m not really feeling in a murderous mood, but I don’t feel like letting you walk away so easily either,” he smirks. 

“Don’t play with me. I’m having the worst day,” you complained. 

“Oh you poor thing. How about you tell me about it?” He was clearly being sarcastic. 

“As if you care? I’m leaving,” you state, standing up. 

“I don’t think so. I don’t feel like letting you walk away easily, remember?” He caught your wrist and tilted his head to the side. You sighed. 

“How about I tell you the queen's secret then?” you suggested. 

“The queen's secret?” he asked. 

“Yes, are you interested or not?” You pulled your wrist from his hold and folded your arms. 

“It does pique my interest, but how do I know you just won’t tell me some nonsense like she skips brushing her teeth?” Hyeongjun inquired. 

“How about this? I’ll tell you her secret and if you think it’s not good enough you can kill me or whatever you fancy,” you say. 

“Sounds like you’re making a deal with me,” Hyeonjun said. 

“I am, so deal or no deal?” You stuck out your hand. 

“I love deals.” Hyeongjun firmly shakes your hand. “Now tell me, what’s the queen’s secret?” 

“The prince isn’t of the king’s blood. His real father is a blacksmith,” you spill. A smirk grows across Hyeongjun’s face.

part 2 part 3 epilogue!

Taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143

[kazu-naito]

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄 — cassiel x audrey

astrea's broken heart | rating T | @rc-catalog

Audrey was leaning against the counter, staring at the wall filled with every type of alcohol one could imagine. After the last few days all she needed was a good drink, but unfortunately for her, she wasn't a connoisseur in the matter - for a moment she wished David was there to serve her something. Defeated in her mental quest, she ended up settling for scotch and poured herself a glass.

Not that used to strong alcohol, Audrey was taking her sweet time and slowly sipping the amber liquid. It tasted very woody, but she also noted a sweet undertone to it. She ruminated with it while watching the moonlight from the window - the faint gust of wind and outside noises were just in sync with the layers of her drink: slightly unpleasant and smokey at first, but ultimately soothing.

Audrey wasn't thinking about anything in particular as the liquid burned down her throat, but at the same time she was lost in thought, locked inside her own mind. So much so that she didn't even hear Cassiel coming in. “Really? A Glengoyne?” His voice startled her but she was too tired to even show it, “I didn't know what to pick.” One look at her and Cassiel could tell something was wrong, she wasn't in the mood for jokes. Was that how others felt around him? He didn't really care. But for some reason he did care about the fact she was drinking alone in a dark room, illuminated only by moonlight. He didn't know how to console people, that was kind of her job, not his, but he wasn't going to leave her alone. He circled the counter and grabbed an Ardbeg bottle, “You should try this one, it has a far more complex taste,” he poured himself a glass and looked at her, to which she nodded, so he gladly poured another glass.

For a while they drank in silence. Audrey didn't feel like talking, but she was grateful for Cassiel’s presence, she was surprised at how easily he read her. He somehow knew she wasn't seeking advice nor someone to listen to her wailes, but deep down she didn't want to be alone. The shimmer of the night illuminated their faces, making them look like otherworldly creatures - the scene in itself was ironic, an ethereal exterior and the most mundane worries raging inside.

She glanced at Cassiel, nudged him slightly and they looked into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity. It’s no wonder people say the eyes are a portal to the soul, they could see so many emotions that would never be voiced, so many contradictions: fear, longing, anxiety, calmness. Cassiel was looking at Audrey like she was made of crystal, he could see right through her. “I can handle it,” he whispered. Their hands were now touching, and neither of them dared to move.

The touch of an angel. The taste of a drug. The look of a stranger who has seen too much. The addictive, albeit fleeting, bliss they were experiencing at that moment. His words touched a rough spot deep in her soul, hardened by time. How come this man, who hardly knew her, was showing more sympathy than those she had known for years? People didn't care about others’ problems, not really. They asked questions out of politeness but hoping no one would start venting - they didn't want to hear it, no one did. Audrey was used to it, she tried to ignore her problems just like everyone else did. But he wasn't asking out of politeness, he was genuinely concerned. She knew how to read people well, in fact, she got paid for doing that, and yet she still wondered if it wasn't just the alcohol clouding her mind. That seemed more believable than someone actually caring. But he did care, and deep down she could feel it, faint as it was.

“Nothing comes for free, Cassiel.” She broke his gaze and downed the drink. Indeed it tasted better than what she was having before.

“But you can pay with your heart.” He refilled her glass to the brim, spilling some of it on his fingers. “If you got one.”

Audrey laughed hoarsely. She couldn't tell whether the man was joking or not, but she decided to play along anyway. “Tell me all your questions, all you got to ask.” Cassiel was licking his fingers and shuffling his mental cards, even though Audrey said to ask everything he knew whatever he asked first was gonna determine the entire conversation.

“It’s not just about the beast.” He wasn't asking, he was stating a fact. “What happened to you?” Audrey was always so composed and took her job very seriously, she'd try to understand everything instead of panicking. So if she was willingly drinking a ridiculous amount of strong alcohol it could only mean she already knew something he did not.

She was silent for a long time, pondering what to say. He was very vague in his question but she knew what he meant. What happened to you in your past? Before you became a psychiatrist?

“I grew up in a very religious community. Many things I could not explain happened there. I’m no stranger to death, and my blood is not innocent.” Audrey was mostly emotionless, as if she was recalling a long lost tale, but the way she spat out the last part made it clear those were vivid memories that she could not bury, no matter how hard she tried. Ever so attentive, Cassiel knew exactly what she meant by that: whatever happened in that community, her family was involved; maybe deep down she thought she too was to blame for it.

Cassiel linked his pinky finger with hers, snapping her out of the melancholic stupor she was diving in. Upon noticing a lone tear slowly making its way down her elysian face, he couldn't hold it anymore - he pulled her into a very much needed hug. Tears were flowing relentlessly now, an ocean of words built by her own silence that almost made her drown. Cassiel held her close, not letting go.

Audrey started speaking again, telling Cassiel about her most traumatic experience - how she felt the pressure as she sunk deeper and deeper and how eventually the need to scream was gone. She learned to deal with it, she locked it all away in a vault profoundly into her soul, she had to wear down to her knees to cancel their names from each one of her experiences. She started anew, she managed to leave it all behind. Tears were still silently running down her face, her words were painted blue, but her heart was unusually warm - as for once, she wasn't alone. Cassiel was calming every tornado in her blood with his gentle touches and reassuring whispers.

“I swear to God that from tomorrow there will be no more pain.” He was cupping her face, tenderly caressing her cheek with his thumb. “I could bring the world down to its knees for you.”

In a way, her chest was opened up during her childhood, a moment in which they took everything she got without ever caring about the consequences. She believed in no devil, for she thought hell was empty and all of the demons were roaming free in the world - she had definitely witnessed it firsthand. However, at that moment Audrey believed in it again. The existence of a Devil implies the existence of a God, she was sure none of them were real, but how else could she explain Cassiel - if not someone sent by God? She leaned into his soft touch as her chest was opened a second time, now it was filling up with everything she had previously lost. She didn't need the alcohol anymore, she was drunk off of him. Audrey couldn't truly give a shit about the danger she’d have to face, she knew he'd come along.

“Just don't leave me alone.”

[morning-star-joy]

time, wondrous time (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: No!Outbreak Joel x F!Reader

Summary: You meet Joel in another lifetime, and nothing bad ever happens to you.

Tags/Warnings: Smut (not super explicit but 18+ MDNI just to be safe), Language, Alcohol, Fluff, Soft!Joel, Age Gap, Lowkey Soulmate AU (can be inferred that it's a stranger's heart AU if you want!)

Wordcount: 2.6k

A/N: Another entry to the Taylor Swift inspired oneshot collection, ty lovely anon who suggested invisible string and Everything Has Changed. Hope you enjoy <3 (and I'm having lots of fun writing these, so if you have a specific song/lyric in mind that you wanna see a drabble for, send me an ask!)

Joel x Reader Taylor-inspired masterlist

In one life, you met Joel Miller after the world ended.

A relationship surrounded by pain and suffering. You were both doomed, your love tainted by an inescapable, cruel ending as soon as it started.

In another life, it starts in an unassuming dive bar, and it never has to end.

“Come on,” Maria, your best friend for as long as you could remember, chided you as she tugged you behind her into the bar. “You drag me out to your new home in Texas, and won’t even take me out for a drink?”

“I was under the impression that you were supposed to be the responsible one,” you teased back, raising an eyebrow at the calculating, carefully put-together lawyer as she pulled you into a seat at the bar beside her.

“And I don’t want to be tonight,” she teased right back, shaking her head with a scoff at your skeptical expression. “Why are you suddenly acting like me? I thought we were going to have fun while I’m here!”

When you said nothing, instead choosing to turn around and wave down the bartender for a few shots, you knew Maria was analyzing you, putting the pieces together without you needing to say anything.

“Oh, please don’t tell me,” she started with a quiet groan, and you shook your head as you stared down into the shot placed in front of you. “That man was absolute trash. He didn’t deserve you.”

“I’m well aware,” you drawled, lifting the shot glass to your eye level to gaze at the alcohol inside before you tossed it back.

You took a moment to relish the burn, sucking in a deep breath before looking back at your friend’s crossed look of sympathy and anger towards your cheating ex-boyfriend.

“What you need,” she started, tossing back her own shot before slapping her hand on your shoulder and giving it a fond squeeze, “is to get laid.”

A sharp laugh left your lips, one of absolute surprise, eyes widening at the blunt statement from your composed friend.

“Do I?” you replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes as her lips tilt up into a rare, but familiar smirk.

“You do,” she said softly, leaning her head closer so she could whisper, “and I have just the candidate.”

When Maria subtly gestured with her head towards the corner of the bar, you took a moment to keep your face carefully blank before following her directions to see just who this candidate was.

You had to admit, you were a little startled by how quickly you warmed up to the idea when you saw the two men sitting at a booth in the corner.

One of them was already looking towards you—no, not you. He was gazing at Maria, his stance casually confident, but not so far as to be arrogant.

The man was certainly handsome, dark curls pushed back from his face and brown eyes that looked remarkably warm, even kind, although there was an intent in them that you got the distinct feeling wasn’t particularly…holy, for lack of a better term.

Then your gaze drifted to the other man across from the first, his gaze fixed on the wall beside him, arm stretched across the back of the booth in a comfortable position as he brought his glass up to his lips for a slow sip.

Despite the man not sharing nearly as much of a hint of interest towards you and your friend as his companion, you couldn’t help but marvel at the strangest, inexplicable tug you felt towards him just in that first moment of laying eyes on him.

When he shifted, his eyes finally darting to meet your unabashed stare, you felt that tug again—stronger, undeniable, and you were almost immediately flustered by it as you looked away from that impenetrable gaze and down into another shot glass before you quickly downed that one too.

“I think there’s a candidate for you there,” you replied cheekily, smiling at your friend as she became flustered at your remark, knowing you hit the nail right on the head.

You weren’t the faintest bit surprised when that first man sauntered up to the bar, his effortless charisma instantly drawing Maria crashing into his tempting gravitational orbit.

It slowly became clear where the evening was heading for them, your presence forgotten by your friend, but you weren’t so offended. Maria deserved a moment to let her hair down and have some fun, and you weren’t catching any bad vibes off the man.

In fact, you think you actually liked him just a bit. But that could have been because he took the time to order you a drink, exchanging a few friendly words with you before captivating all of your friend’s attention.

You think you liked the situation all the bit more when you felt another presence settle in at your other side, taking the empty seat before a bowl of pretzels that had been sitting in front of you was tugged down closer so that it was within your reach.

“It seems my brother has your friend distracted for the night,” a deep, Southern drawl pulled your attention right to the man you had made brief eye contact with earlier, and there was that tug again, stronger, confusing as fuck as he met your eye. “If you got nobody to take care of you tonight, you should at least put something in your stomach.”

Your eyebrow raised at the genuine display of caretaking, surprised to find it from a stranger at this dingy dive bar before your lips twitched into a small smile.

“Who said I have nobody to take care of me tonight?” you shot back, your smile shifting into a smirk as the alcohol in your body influenced you to be more flirty than usual, especially so soon after a breakup.

The man’s lips twitched into a small smile, shaking his head before he pushed the basket of pretzels towards you even more.

“That little slur in your words is proving my point,” was all he said, shooting you a smug look as you scoffed in indignance, because you both knew he was right. “C’mon, eat.”

He popped one of the pretzels into his own mouth, chewing as an example before washing it down with his drink, an amber liquid in a short glass. Whiskey? Brandy? Maybe rum?

You wondered what it was, how it would taste on his lips, before you quickly shook your head, realizing with a start that you really were tipsy and fucking horny, and you needed to get some food in your system right now to sober up.

Again, you detected no danger signals from the companion of the man who took no time escorting Maria from the bar. He shot the man at your side an almost endearingly excited smile in the same moment you exchanged a habitual look of be safe with your best friend, shaking your head at the matching excitement on her face before turning back to your now empty bowl of pretzels.

“My brother’s a good man,” the man said, ordering a couple of waters and another bowl of pretzels for the both of you. “Dumb as rocks sometimes, but a good man. He’ll treat your friend right.”

You laughed, lips tilting up into a smile that he returned as you both reached into the new bowl of pretzels and sipped at your waters.

“Can I at least have a name for the stranger who’s fucking—sorry, ‘treating my friend right’ tonight?”

Now it was his turn to laugh, a deep chuckle that rumbled from his chest and, fuck, you already knew just from that moment that you wouldn’t be able to get enough of whatever this Southern gentleman was willing to give you.

“Tommy,” he said, gesturing with his thumb back towards the door your friend and his brother had left through a while ago, before offering his hand for you to shake. “Joel.”

Your smile grew, not hesitating for a moment as you took the hand, marveling at its size and warmth, and there it was again, that tug, now a pull that was tying you to him, and you wondered if he felt it too as his smile brightened up the low-lit bar when you gave him your name.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Joel said in a low tone, sending desire coursing through you to pool low in your stomach and, fuck, you were going to have it so bad.

To your credit, you didn’t fuck Joel that first night you met him, although the idea had been teased the longer the night went on, and you both moved through snacks, drinks and glasses of water alike.

Your heads moved closer as you talked, sharing smiles and laughter, jokes and comments that increasingly became more flirty as his arm draped across the back of your chair, keeping your conversation close and intimate in a way that set you on edge with anticipation.

“You not taking me home because your brother’s fucking my friend in the same apartment?” you joked when he hailed you a cab, listening with satisfaction to his bright, startled laughter as he shot you a small, bemused grin.

“Different houses,” he replied warmly, watching the taxi pull up to the curb before he walked over to grab the handle and open the door for you.

Houses, you had made a mental note of. It did make sense, he seemed older than you, something that only made you want a taste of him more as you slowly walked towards the taxi to get in.

“But I need to get home to my daughter,” Joel added, and you softened, unable to help but smile at the quieter tone, the hesitation in the revelation, understanding if you were no longer interested coupled with affection in his eyes as he spoke of his daughter.

“You seem to be a good man, Joel…?”

“Miller,” he supplied as he caught on that you were fishing for a last name. “Joel Miller.”

“Well then, Joel Miller,” you murmured, ignoring the annoyed glance from the taxi driver as Joel idled there, leaning his head into the open space of the door to keep talking to you. “I’ll have to take a rain check, then.”

Your flirtatious remark, for all its confidence, was coated with uncertainty from not being sure if this was just an innocent night of unfulfilled promises.

But when he reached past you to hand cash to the driver to get you home, his fingers brushing against your arm when he pulled back, that devilish smile and wink he sent you, along with the mumbled respectful goodbye of “ma’am” let you know how this was only the first of many times you were going to see Joel Miller.

You had never had it so good.

And not just the sex, as mind-blowing as that was.

No, it was the way that Joel was still there when you woke up in the morning. Not rushing to get out the door, not even asking more from you than you could give, so soon after just ending a longer term relationship.

Just simply greeting you with a lazy half-smile, eyes open and honest as he woke from a deep sleep, dark hair a mess and curling at the back of his neck. His lips meeting yours in a slow, languid greeting that would have you buzzing all day with thoughts of him, long after he had left.

It was the indescribable feeling, deep within your heart, resonating in the very fiber of your being, that you knew Joel Miller.

Despite only sleeping together for a few weeks, chasing stolen moments whenever you could manage between his life and yours, somehow there was this subconscious knowledge of him, an instinct that told you that you may as well have known him your whole life.

Or maybe in another.

It was the way he eventually asked you on a real date for the first time—cautious, maybe a bit awkwardly, over a couple cups of coffee from your small pot that was becoming severely overused the more he came over.

You stood in nothing but his t-shirt in the tiny kitchen of your apartment, your lips curling into a smile that you tried to hide behind your engraved mug. Feeling that pull towards him once again, you were helpless to resist, finally setting your cup down so you could cup his face between your hands, pulling him down into a long, lingering kiss full of unbroken promises that would leave him longing for you from the moment he stepped out of your door.

Joel tasted like your coffee, smelled like your soap from the shower you had taken together not an hour before you stood together like this, and it was no wonder when he picked you up and set you on top of your counter before dropping to his knees between your legs to have you for breakfast.

When you were trembling and gasping, fingers tangled in his hair and thighs shaking from the intense ecstasy delivered by his lips and expert tongue alone, Joel finally pulled back to smirk up at you. He pressed kisses along the inside of your thigh, drawing a path across your skin that had no destination, and yet somehow it pulled you towards him even more.

You pulled him up towards you, lips crashing against his in a desperate dance of tongues and passion, moaning into his mouth at the taste of you on his lips and marveling at how hungry you always were from him, as he was for you.

Before Joel left that morning, you made sure to return the favor, cleaning him up with your tongue afterwards and watching with satisfaction as this strong, unfaltering man melted under your touch.

“I’ll see you soon,” he murmured between kisses you couldn’t seem to stop sharing as he hovered halfway out your door, and you had to give him a playful shove backwards so he would get home in time before his daughter woke up so that he could take her to school.

“Yes you will, cowboy,” you smirked, giving him a wink before letting the door click closed when Joel finally managed to pull himself away.

It didn’t take long before you were pulled back together.

The first date was awkward, gloriously so, and followed closely by another. Then another, and another, learning each other through words as well as touch. 

Stories of your lives and sweet, knowing smiles were shared over lunches and dinners, your pasts and unwritten futures all tying you together in that present moment.

Then Joel brought you home with him for the first time, introducing you to his family, and you knew that all the hell you had experienced in however many lives you had lived only brought you to this heaven.

Tommy was a friendly menace as you got to know him, teasing you mercilessly about your relationship with his brother, which you returned by joking in good nature about his own growing relationship with your best friend.

Sarah was a smaller menace, teasing her father as much as Tommy did you. But she was also such an incredibly sweet soul, a warm light at the center of Joel’s world that you cherished being able to witness.

One night, as you laid in Joel’s arms, comfortable in his bed and surrounded by everything that was him, you gazed at the ticking watch on his bedside table and pondered how curious, how absolutely mystical, how beautifully wondrous time was to bring you to him.

A single golden thread that effortlessly tied you to him, unbeknownst to you, time and time again.

Because you found him in the last lifetime, just as you found him in this one.

Just as you would find him in the next.

[shelbystales]

Best Aid - Part Seven

Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Previous parts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Summary: you are a young doctor in Birmingham. After a crazy incident, Thomas Shelby shows up at your hospital. You don’t know much about the man everyone seems to fear, but you definitely will.

Warning: swearing, mention of torture and panick attack

A/N:  Comment and interact, tell me what you think! it means a looot.

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"Hey, you good?" Jeremy asked, easing into the break room for hospital staff.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" you replied, not looking up from the trauma textbook you were reading.

He pulled up a chair and sat down beside you. "You think it was him?" he asked in a hushed tone, as if it were some kind of top-secret stuff.

"Can we not go there, please?" you requested, turning the page of your book.

"Come on, seriously?" He paused, waiting for a response, but you stayed tight-lipped. "Y/n, seriously, what's going on? You usually spill the beans about everything, even your weirdest quirks. Even when you were peeing green for fucks sake. Youre making me worry here. Did he do something to you? Hurt you?" he asked, his voice all business, a tone he rarely used with you.

"No," you shook your head, "he didn't do anything to me," you replied calmly and took a deep breath. "Not directly."

"What does that mean?" He frowned.

You sighed deeply and told him everything about the apartment, the bomb. It felt good to get this off your chest. As you spoke, it was as though weights were being lifted off your shoulders one by one.

When you finished, Jeremy gave you a tight hug, and before you knew it, you were tearing up. These last few days, living in fear, with so much anxiety, had been consuming you. Being able to share and be comforted by someone was all you needed.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked. "Are you going to stay at his aunt's hotel for how long?"

"I don't know," you shrugged, moving away from the hug and wiping your tears.

"You can come to my place," he offered.

"Are you crazy? I'm not putting you and your fiancé at risk," you said.

"Okay, but if you need anything, I'm here," he said

"Thank you, Jer. I needed this," you smiled as Jeremy left, allowing you to focus on your studies.

Later, you decided to check on the man Thomas had brought to the hospital. As you entered the room, your heart skipped a beat. The patient's face was heavily bruised and battered, his body showing signs of severe torture. It was a grim sight, and you couldn't help but feel a wave of sympathy for the man, imagining the horrors he might have endured.

You approached him and began your examination, checking his vitals, the medications he was prescribed, and the results of his blood tests. Your eyes fell on the schedule at your tablet, he was set for surgery tomorrow, likely to fix his jaw.

While you were listening to his lungs with a stethoscope, you sensed a presence at the door. Looking up, you saw Thomas, and a lump formed in your throat.

Your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, everything else faded away. You couldn't help but confront him, your tone laced with sarcasm. "Came to finish the job?" you mocked, removing the stethoscope from your ears.

He remained silent, his gaze fixed on you, his jaw clenched tightly. His presence, once so comforting, now made you sick. Ignoring him, you resumed your examination of the patient's lungs, doing your best to focus on the task at hand.

As you continued your examination, the tension in the room was palpable. Thomas walked to the small sofa in the room, still watching you in silence. It was as though an invisible wall had erected itself between you, separating the two of you in a space filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

You couldn't ignore his presence, nor the turmoil it stirred within you. A mixture of anger, fear, and a hint of lingering attraction made your heart race.

He had crossed a line by coming here, by defying your wishes to stay away. And yet, part of you was somehow relieved that he was standing there. 

“I’m finished. I need you to leave” Thomas frowned and raised an eyebrow, refusing to budge. "You think I'm going to leave you alone with him? Are you delusional?"

He chuckled and shook his head. “And what do you think I’ll do if you leave?” he challenged, looking at the injured man on the bed.

“Do you really want me to say it?” you asked, but he ignored you. After a few moments, you couldn't bear the silence any longer. "So, is this some kind of sick game to you?" you asked, your voice quivering with a blend of frustration and vulnerability.

Thomas's gaze burned onto you, an intensity you'd never seen before. "What kind of man do you think I am?" he retorted, the heat in his eyes making you shiver.

“The kind of man that could have done this” you pointed at your patient and he chuckled, rolling his eyes at you.

You struggled to find your voice, your own fear and doubt surfacing. "Did you?" you managed to ask, your words drawn out as though pulled from the depths of your throat.

"What?" he replied with a hint of mockery in his tone, challenging you. 

"Torture him?" you whispered, your head nodding involuntarily. Your hands shook, and your entire body quivered with the intensity of the situation.

Thomas's gaze remained locked onto yours, his blue eyes unwavering as they bore into your soul. "No," he asserted, his voice firm 

Your uncertainty remained, and you found it difficult to trust his words. "Why do I not believe you?" you whispered, your voice barely audible

“if I wanted him dead, I wouldn't have brought him here, eh?” he stated. His response was cold, a frigid wall that seemed to surround him. "But you believe in whatever you want,"he continued, making no attempt to soften his words “can you just walk out? pretend you didn’t see me".

"What? Why would I do that? What are you doing here, Thomas?" you inquired, your eyes narrowing as you regarded him.

He met your gaze, his expression unyielding. "I came to visit," he replied curtly. Your skepticism grew as you couldn't help but wonder what had truly brought him here, you just watched him. Then, he made a request that caught you off guard. "Can you check him out?"

Your initial reaction was a resolute refusal. "There's no way he's leaving this hospital," you retorted, your voice firm.

Thomas, however, didn't seem fazed by your refusal. He gazed at you with a stark intensity and asked a question that sent a chill down your spine. "Will he die if he does?"

"Yes!" you nearly yelled in response, your voice laced with frustration and indignation

Thomas's resolve didn't waver. He spoke with a calm determination that sent shivers down your spine. "Look, I need to check him out. He can’t stay here. He needs a safer location."

You couldn't hide the frustration in your voice as you firmly stated, "He can't leave! he has a severe infection and a surgery tomorrow"

“If he stays, he’ll die” he said, his voice firm “do you want that?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course not! But, If he leaves he dies” you said, feeling your heart race in a weird rhythm “Why do you do this to me?” you whispered

“I’m doing nothing” he shook his head and shrugged “you are here because you want to be. You can leave and have nothing to do with this, y/n”

“This man is my responsibility, Thomas” you said, your voice shaky as your breathing got harder “... he can’t be discharged” 

Thomas's expression remained resolute, and his tone didn't waver. "Then what's the alternative?"

The tension in the room reached its breaking point, and you couldn't contain your frustration any longer. The pressure and uncertainty of the situation pushed you to the brink, and you snapped, your voice rising with exasperation. "How the fuck am I supposed to know?!!" you demanded, your words coming out in a rush, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on your shoulders. 

You tried to take a deep breath to calm, but somehow you felt like there was no air around you.

Your heart raced, pounding in your chest like a drumbeat, and you could hear the blood rushing in your ears. 

Your hands trembled uncontrollably, and you clutched at your chest as if to quell the suffocating pressure that had settled there.

Your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, and you struggled to hold onto a semblance of control.

In the midst of the chaos, you desperately attempted to take a deep breath, but the air around you felt thin and elusive, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

Panic had taken hold, and you were caught in its relentless grip, unable to break free.

Your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the edges of the room and making everything seem distant and surreal. 

The room, once filled with tense conversation, had now transformed into a suffocating void. You longed for a way out of this paralyzing panic that had seized you.

It was as though the walls were closing in, and the world had grown smaller, more claustrophobic.

With trembling fingers, you reached out for anything to ground you, clutching onto the edge of your patient’s bed. But the room continued to spin, and your legs felt unsteady beneath you

In the midst of your overwhelming panic, you suddenly felt a hand on your arm. It was a firm yet gentle touch. You looked up and Thomas' face slowly formed in front of you. 

"Y/N," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "Focus on your breathing, ey. In and out. You're going to be okay. You're going to ok"

His words cut through the chaos that had enveloped you, and you struggled to follow his guidance. He caressed your arms as he insctructed you.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. 

It felt like an eternity, but gradually, your breathing began to steady, and the world around you started to regain its shape.

Thomas continued to speak to you in hushed tones. His presence, once a source of tension, had now become a lifeline in your moment of need. He remained there, a calming presence, until your panic attack began to subside, and you could once again see the room clearly.

As the storm of panic receded, you felt a mix of emotions… embarrassment, relief, and a strange gratitude toward Thomas. You hadn't expected him to come to your aid, but in that moment, he had shown a side of himself you hadn't seen before.

After your breathing had steadied and the panic had subsided, Thomas remained by your side, his gaze filled with concern. He asked in a soft, genuinely worried tone, "Are you okay?"

You looked into his eyes, still filled with uncertainty and turmoil. You didn't have a straightforward answer. "I... I don't know," you admitted, your voice trembling.

Thomas regarded you with a mixture of concern and guilt. He had brought this unsettling chaos into your life, and it was evident in the way you now struggled to find your footing.

"I'm sorry," he confessed, his voice heavy with remorse.

You furrowed your brows and asked, "Are you?"

Thomas locked eyes with you, and for an instant, you glimpsed a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. "Yes," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "I didn't intend for any of this to happen to you." He gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, caressing your cheek. But as if awakening from a dream, he abruptly withdrew a step, putting distance between you.

You watched as he retreated. Instantly missing his touch. The tension in the room was palpable, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. There were questions about you two that hung in the air, unspoken but heavy with meaning. You wanted him to stay away. This was your wish. right? 

Finally, Thomas broke the silence, his voice softer than before. "I'll leave you to your work," he said, gesturing towards the patient you were examining. It was clear that he was stepping away not just physically but emotionally as well.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you... for helping."

As Thomas turned to leave, you couldn't help but question your own desires. Did you want him to stay away, as you had insisted? Or did you secretly crave his presence, despite the chaos and danger he seemed to bring into your life?

“Thomas” you called and he turned to you

“I’ll leave in two hours'” you said and took a deep breath “at least take him somewhere with a heart monitor… If he means anything to you… hire a nurse… i don’t know” 

he took the longest deep breath you’ve ever seen him take and then he nodded, before leaving the room.

taglist:

@deanlovescassie @hellstears @randomfanfics02 @literishdegree99 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @hellstears @rito4ka @alexxavicry @atomicsoulcollecto @Violet_19999 @lyarr24 @woofgocows @milkshakelol @knowledgefulbutterfly @watercolorskyy @redhead7799 @star017 @stuckinmylittlebubble @bat-luna-cat @babaohhhriley @scullys—alienpussy @kassieesworld @deepangelstudentsworld @batgurl42 @starlitjellyfish @velenzia @lyarr24 @Sweetiecake180 @musicsweetie21 @lostgirl219 @slaypussypop-21 @nyenye @izzwizz774 @ooldcardigan @kielsegur @nikkialex @1nterstellarcha0s @mariamx1 @swingingmusicalfunnydragon @illuminwtesz @lazyylover

[diefxrguns]

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓

✯pairings- erwin smith x afab!reader

✯a/n- might be some mistakes, apologies. Do not share on tiktok without my permission. not glamourising pedophilia, Y/N is 18

✯synopsis- your teacher develops strong feelings for a specific girl in his classroom

✯ c/w- smut, teacher x student relationship. choking, spanking, and more- not comfortable? dont read.

"teacher's pet, if I'm so "special. Why am I a secret?" ✧

Your eyes couldn't concentrate on the board infront of you, never in your life have you felt this way for somebody.

Despite all the love letters from boys in your class and offers to go out on dates, boys your age-just didn't do it for you. Ya know.

There was always something about older fellows, but not to old. Maybe 25-35 since you were 18. It was appropriate after all- well for some people atleast.

Your mother would die if she saw the things that kept you up at night, on your laptop a stash of porn videos. All in the same category of porn. You had a thing for manthers, not the creepy pedophilic one's. The men who are like 30 with 20 year old girlfriends. Sounds normal right.

So when your new teacher entered the classroom, you almost fell out of your seat. His arms, his hair, everything about this man was just so fucking sexy.

He wore a blue button up shirt, that was long sleeved, but the sleeves were rolled up a bit- revealing his toned forearms. His pants were black and his blonde hair was combed back.

He had to be in his early 30's, but my God did he look so delicious.

He's an English, History and Biology teacher so he would be teaching you English and History, since those are the classes you had.

He started off by introducing himself, and went straight to work. Instructing the class to open their books on page 116. He got down to business, you could tell he was one- track minded.

His voice was so deep and demanding, but somewhat calm and smooth. He explained the work diligently. Making sure everyone understood the English lesson- before dismissing the class and closing the whiteboard marker.

As the days passed you did nothing but gawk at him, in classes you barley even payed attention. And oh- he knew you weren't listening. How your pretty eyes just stared into space, he knew exactly what you were looking at. He's way smarter then he looks.

There was one particular day, after class. You were looking at him the whole time, and he knew- but it bugged him because exams were coming up and you never took notes once. He knew your grades were sky high, and he didn't want you to fail your examinations. So he called you after class.

" Miss Y/N, please stay behind and take a seat" he said, as you were on your way out the classroom.

" Yes" you said in timid voice because of how shy and slightly intimidated you were

The older man sat on a chair opposite you, his back hunched and his elbows on his knees, he removed his glasses and looked you directly in the eye

" You're not paying attention, you think I don't know, you think I don't see how much you're looking into space during my lessons"

" Mr Smith, I'm really sorry " you said with fake sympathy, in all honesty you didn't give a fuck about his lessons. He's eye candy- who wouldn't look at him.

"Your results went from 93 to 50, your practice test results where lower then I expected. A five star student, became mediocre over night. I advise you tell me what's on your mind Y/N" he said straightening his posture and leaning back, never breaking eye contact with you

" Mr Smith, I've just been distracted lately, ya know, Like something is really troubling me". What you just said was true, something was bugging you. Everytime this fine ass man opens his mouth, breathes or even looks your way you cream your pants, leaving a stain on your lacey panties. That's the real problem.

" Ah, I see. Well, as your teacher I suppose you need to trust me with whatever it is you're going through. You need to get it out of your system so we can work through this" he said

" Well, I...um, i- I got dumped by my ex boyfriend and.. well he, he really hurt me. Its bothered me alot" you lied through your teeth, you never had a boyfriend. You just said that so that Erwin could feel sorry for you.

Immediately Erwin stood up and knelt down to your level, holding your hand gently. In this moment your heart was racing, you didn't know how to react.

What the fuck was actually going on here? Your teacher( crush) was kneeling down holding your hand, this was to much to handle.

" Y/N, I need you to not focus on other boys ok- they're a waste of time, I need you to think about bigger things. Like college and a husband maybe? You need a man that's going to take care of you, love you..."

Your chest was rising up and down as you took intense breathes, he was so close to you. His warmth was radiating off his big body onto your smaller one.

" After school I'll take you to my place, so that I can prepare you for upcoming examinations... Sound ok?" He asked as he stood up fixing his tie and getting his things

" ye-yes, it sounds awesome" you said standing up in a hurry and giving your teacher a big smile.

Everyday afterschool Erwin took you to his home.

He lived in a very spacious house, it was small but modern and fancy. A two story home with two bedrooms and two bathrooms.

He had two cats aswell, a grey one and a white one. Grey one named Oscar and the white one named Bunny.

His home smelled like vanilla and sandalwood, it was clean with grey and white accents. He obviously lived alone, but damn how can such a handsome and astound man be single.

He sat you at the dining room table with your books and tutored you, and helped you make notes for your exams.

He spent three hours after school tutoring you.

You were beyond grateful for this opportunity, because it made you and Erwin closer.

Even though you never really spoke about personal things, subconsciously your souls were somewhat aligned. Almost like you had a connection that you couldn't explain or describe, you just felt comfortable around each other.

A little to comfortable

After examinations, you stopped going to Erwin's home. There was no need afterall, I mean he stopped tutoring you because exams were over.

In all honesty you missed it, you missed him. So one afternoon you went to his house to give him some treats, just to say thank you.

You knocked on his door, patiently waiting for him to open it

And in that very moment your heart shattered, the pain you felt when the door opened, only to be greeted by an older women, her late 20's to be precise. Her ginger/ strawberry blonde hair was wavy and shiny. And her body was curvaceous and slim

Her nails painted red, she wore a tight black dress and heels, with pearls around her neck- and the cherry on top of the cake, was the 24K diamond ring she wore on her ring finger, indicating she is married.

Your face went red, not with anger. But with sadness, you felt like a fucking idiot. Falling for you teacher.

" Oh hello dear, you must be Erwin's student, please come inside. He must be thrilled to see you" she said, in a nice tone of voice as she let you inside

" Erwin! Honey, your student is here to see you" she yelled for her " husband" as she told you to sit and offered you a cup of tea

" Oh my, Y/N. This is rather unexpected. Why have you come?" Erwin asked as he dried his hair, obviously he just came out the shower.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes were visibly watery indicating you were about to burst into tears.

But you had to suck it up, and pretend like nothing was wrong

" I..I um- I brought you some gifts, just to say thank you for helping me with studying" you said handing him the gift bag

A smile appeared on Erwin's face as he opened the bag filled with chocolates, and sweets . But at the bottom of the gift bag was a letter, expressing your feelings to Erwin- and how you really felt about him.

He opened the letter silently, and reading it rather quickly before clenching his jaw, his smile faded into a puzzling expression. And he looked at you for a mere second before sitting on the barstool next to you.

His wife still making tea for the both of you including herself.

" So Y/N isn't it? How is school treating you?" She asked sitting across from you and Erwin.

" Well... Its, it's, it's great actually. Thanks to Mr Smith, your husband." You said, in a fake- nice tone of voice.

She didn't catch on to your obvious sarcasm but Erwin knew exactly how you felt about her, as said before he's smarter then he looks.

" Oh well, Erwin here isn't my husband, not yet. He's actually my fiance, we're getting married...soon I suppose" she said giving you a smile and sipping on her tea.

" That's wonderful news" you said sipping the tea.

Erwin sat in silence, drinking his tea and staring elsewhere, not daring to make eye contact with you or his fiance.

" Oh my, I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Mari Dawk" she said flashing you another smile.

" You see Smith and I met in our military days, he just caught my eye, he was one with the ladies too. She said waffling on about how her and Erwin met and how they got together. But in all honesty you weren't listening, frankly you didn't care, you were to hurt to listen to these stories.

She talked to much, but she was extremely friendly. You could see why Erwin was engaged to her, Mari would make a wonderful mother.

A few minutes passed and it was time for you to leave. You couldn't spend more time in this house, with Erwin and this woman.

So you said your goodbyes and offered to clean up.

"Can I help with anything, washing my mug?" You asked Mari

" No that won't be necessary Y/N, go home and get some rest it's late " said Erwin in a monotone voice.

You shut the door behind you and made your way home...

A few days passed and your behaviour changed drastically, you barely ate and you no longer enjoyed your usual habits.

You were on a break so you never saw Erwin.

When school was back on, you payed attention in class and actually wrote notes. He noticed your change in attitude towards him.

You no longer smiled at him when you entered to classroom, you no longer greeted him or said goodbye.

It was like you changed...

When the history lesson was over, you were the last student to pack your bag. Getting ready to leave, when Erwin closed the classroom door, locking it

" Why did you lock the door? I need to go home it's afterschool" you said in a cold tone of voice, not looking at him once, packing your textbooks into your backpack.

" Y/N, please stop this little act you're doing. You think I don't what you're up to? " Erwin said standing with his hands in his pockets, a few steps away from you.

" I don't care, if you don't mind I'd like to leave Mr Smith. I don't have time for this. If it isn't about schoolwork I'm not interested" you said

" The letter you wrote to me, well... It made me emotional Y/N" he said stepping closer and closer to you, only inches away

At this point you felt so broken and drained, it wasn't exactly his fault. How was he supposed to know you liked him and besides it's his life, he can't just dump his fiance for you.

" Mr Smith, I appreciate everything you've done. I'm sorry for that letter, I wasn't in the right head space. I just had a small crush, it was nothing serious. Please go back home to your wife and forget everything. " You said tears threatening to spill from your eyes as those words were so hard to say.

You couldn't lie anymore, you loved Erwin Smith. His smile, the way he comforted you and motivated you. His kindness, his leadership, his empathy. Everything about him lured you in. You still had feelings for him, you tried ignoring them and ignoring him. But truthfully you were hooked like a worm on a fishing rod.

As you were about to walk past him, he grabbed your arm. Forcing you back to him, his arm was strong. At this point you couldn't break free from his hold, even if you tried.

He held your waist, and placed a hand on your back rubbing it gently.

Things were getting out of hand, luckily there were no surveillance in his classroom.

" Y/N, I know I hurt you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry for leading you on. Truthfully I knew you liked me, I knew from day one. And I liked you too. Not in a daughter way, I like you romantically, I don't have feelings for Mari anymore. She cheated on me with one of my friends, and she came back. The only reason I let her back into my life was because my morals were telling me, that loving you is wrong. " The blonde man said with pain in his voice, he was being serious, he was genuine.

A passionate kiss was placed upon your pink lips as Erwin held you tightly in his arms.

Your hands made their way to his neck, rubbing the back of his neck slowly. Enjoying the kiss.

Erwin began to move his hands from your waist to your ass, lifting up your skirt as he squeezed your cheeks.

He broke away from the kiss

" Do I have your consent Y/N?" He asked as he looked you dead in the eye waiting for you to respond

" Yes, yes you have my consent" you said.

He kissed you even more, before bending you over his desk. Only to pull your panties down

" hmm, won't you look at that hey. All wet for me already, I haven't even touched this pussy yet"

He began rubbing your folds gently, making you whimper from every touch.

Erwin flipped you over, you sat on his large desk with you legs spread for him to see.

He unbuttoned your school shirt and threw it elsewhere.

And unclipped your bra, letting your pretty breasts drop.

He couldn't believe it, the sight of your pretty body, made him so fucking hard.

He gave you a kiss before flipping you back over again and kneeling down to your pussy. His tongue flicked across your already- wet folds, earning moans from you everytime.

He eventually inserted his cock into your pussy, fucking you slowly at first. Gradually he fucked you even faster, causing you to moan loudly.

Echo's could be heard throughout the empty classroom, as well as moans and pants.

The both of you came a few times, before deciding it'll be best to leave the school, before you both got caught doing your lewd activities.

And after cleaning up the classroom and getting dressed, Erwin grabbed you and kissed you once again

The words " I love you" falling from his lips

All rights reserved ©

[something-tofightfor]

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #15: Frankie Morales - A Kiss After Pain

If you remember last summer, I took prompt requests for a series of smooches. It never got finished, and I apologize for that ... but this one WAS finished and has been languishing in my google docs for almost a year.

What was the delay? I couldn't post it until the story reached the point where you knew Frankie's secret. But @the-blind-assassin-12 .... it's happening. And this one is all for you.

Word Count: 1,796 Rating: M, for implied sex and a lot of angst ... and some blood. Takes place between chapters 9 and 10 of Liminality.

In the short time you’d known him, you’d never seen Frankie as agitated as he was that afternoon. 

You weren’t scared of him - you hadn’t ever been, even after finding out what he was. I should have been. It should have terrified me. But instead, you’d felt sympathy for the man - someone that hadn’t asked for what he was enduring, someone that took things seriously and tried his best to keep himself under control even when most other people in his position wouldn’t have been able to.

“Frankie, if there’s anything I can do, I need you to …” Shaking your head, you sighed. “I wish you’d just tell me.” 

“You can control it.” He was running his fingers through his hair, the Standard Oil ballcap you’d grown used to discarded on his couch. “Not a hundred percent of the time, but enough. Enough that you don’t need to fucking …” He growled, spinning away from you and striding toward the back door, both hands balled up onto fists and hanging by his sides. He won’t change here. He won’t let himself get worked up enough, even though the moon’s only a couple days away. “You don’t have to fucking hurt people. You have enough goddamn control to…” He trailed off, rocking back and forth.

“Maybe you’re the exception.” Standing, you slowly crossed the room, stopping short of touching him, even though you wanted to. “Maybe not everyone has the self control you do, Frankie. Maybe you not knowing what you were capable of and being wary of it all helped and -”

“No.” It was close to a snarl, the sound low in his throat as he stiffened. Keep it together, Frankie. “I’m not fucking special. Even Ashley agreed with me about the control thing.” He lowered his head, taking a breath. “It’s easier when you’re born into it because you have help controlling the urges. But she said that her entire line - and everyone else they’ve ever come into contact with - have been able to control themselves even in the beginning.” 

You shivered, crossing your arms over your chest. But why do these other wolves just want to kill? What is it about them that make them … “The Chaos line just wants attention, then. If they’re all aware that they’re hurting people, it’s by design.” He agreed with you, a humorless laugh at the end of it. 

“I’ve worked so hard.” He turned to face you, a deep frown on his face. “So hard since it happened to control it. To control myself. I just want to live my goddamn life and not worry about someone knocking on my door one day and -”

“Someone like me, you mean.” Covering your mouth with one hand, you closed your eyes. “Because if I figured out that this isn’t gators or bobcats, then someone else will, too. I can’t be the only one looking.” 

He nodded, eyes locked with yours. “And not everyone is like you. Not everyone would listen. People shoot first and ask questions later.” He glanced up, taking a long breath. “Like me and Redfly did in Colombia. Like the five of us did on so many missions. Like -”

“Hey.” You reached out then, laying a hand against the center of his chest. “You’re getting off topic here, Morales.” His heartbeat thumped against  your palm, the man’s skin hot through the thin material of his t-shirt. “The next full moon, we’ll get him.  You won’t have to worry about this asshole putting you in danger anymore.” 

“You sound so sure.” He rolled his eyes, stepping away from you. “What if it doesn’t happen that way? What if he’s always a couple steps ahead of me? What if I can’t keep you or the guys from -”

“You know why I’m here, Frankie.” Chewing on your lower lip, you narrowed your eyes. “You know what I’m willing to give u -”

He cut you off when he raised a fist, slamming it into the tabletop with a crack of his knuckles. 

You hissed in pain at the sound - and the sight - but Frankie didn’t even flinch, the man’s fingers flexing as he replied. “That’s not going to fucking happen.” He turned to face you again and you watched in horror as his bloodied knuckles dripped onto the tile floor. How is he not … that has to hurt. He - “I already put you in danger by not telling you right away. It’s not happening again. Not now, not -”

“Frankie, you’re bleeding.” Forcing yourself into motion, you moved past him and into the kitchen, grabbing a towel and turning on the hot water. “Your hand has to be broken, something cracked when you hit the table, and -”

“It was the table.” He was right behind you, the man’s voice low again as he leaned in to speak into your ear. “It does hurt, but it’s fine. It’ll heal. Give it a couple hours and it’ll be like nothing happened. Shit heals faster the closer it gets to the moon.” The table? He cracked the table? His left hand snaked around your waist and the right one came into view as he extended his fingers over the sink. “Just some bloody knuckles. Nowhere near the worst it’s been for me.” 

You sighed as he spoke, a tiny smile creeping over your lips as he flattened his palm against your belly, pulling you back toward him. I know it isn’t. “At least let me clean them off for you. Can’t have you bleeding all over the place.” He nodded, chin resting on your shoulder - and you got to work. 

You were gentle with his hand, guiding it under the trickle of water and letting it rinse the blood from his skin. The cuts were shallow - more bruises than anything else, but his knuckles were swollen, and you felt him wince when you used your thumb to rub antibacterial soap over them, ensuring that the area was clean. Not that it matters, according to him, but … still. 

“You know I’d do whatever it took to keep you safe, right?” He kissed the side of your neck, lips lingering against your skin. “Not only do you know my secret, but you know about Colombia, too, so that makes you … one of us.” Your heart thumped at the label, even though it wasn’t new information. But…  

“Hmm. With that, you’d think that maybe me not being around anymore would be a good thing. I’m a liability, Frankie. Not just to you guys, but to whoever the other person is, because … because I know what to look for. I know what to …” You trailed off when he reached for the taps, turning the water off and then urging you to spin and face him. “What?” 

“It would not be a good thing.” He moved closer, pinning you between his body and the counter’s edge, the man’s gaze intense. “Not even close.” His nostrils flared as he contemplated his words - and yours - and when Frankie spoke again, you heard resolve in his voice, the man trailing one bruised knuckle over your cheek. “You might know what to look for and what to do when you find it, but I know what it feels like to be the thing you’re looking for. I know what happens when we’re not … us anymore. And I’m going to use that to hunt this motherfucker down.” 

His eyes flashed gold as he spoke, Frankie’s handsome features turning sharp for a moment before they softened. 

You still weren’t scared, but you did feel fear - not for you or for him, but for whoever was behind the attacks. Because he won’t give up. This isn’t just about keeping people safe, it’s about … him getting to live his life. It’s about getting to watch his daughter grow up and … “You are.” Nodding twice, you closed your eyes. “We are. And I’m going to help you as much as I can.” So that maybe I can finally live my life, too. 

You took his wrist between your fingers and twisted it, finally breaking eye contact when you pressed your lips to his knuckles. You kissed each one in turn, and when you were done, you looked back up, not knowing what to expect. 

But instead of uncertainty or unease, Frankie looked absolutely wrecked, the man’s lips parted and his brow furrowed, his eyes on your face. You didn’t know how he’d respond, but you didn’t expect him to nearly moan out your name, surging forward to kiss you without warning. 

He ripped his wrist from your hold and used that hand to grip the back of your neck - not tightly but securely, his other hand sliding beneath your shirt and up the center of your back, the heat of his palm trailing like fire over your skin. 

There was nothing hesitant about the kiss. Frankie didn’t hold back, and you would have been lying if you’d said that part of you wasn’t thrilled that you were able to get that kind of reaction out of him after only knowing him for a couple months. But who wouldn’t be? He’s… 

He tugged on your lip with his teeth and then released it, running his nose alongside yours before he kissed you again, your mouth open and waiting, the point of his tongue meeting the flat of yours, almost daring you to challenge him further. 

You did, one hand gripping his shirt and bunching the fabric of it against your palm as you moaned into his mouth, your other hand pushing on his hip and wordlessly urging him to back up so that you could follow. 

He was dangerous and you knew it. 

He’d been that way for years before Colombia, Frankie’s instincts and willingness to do what needed to be done allowing him and his friends to survive countless unthinkable situations. But he was also loyal to the people he cared about - and based on the things he’d said to you and the way he’d treated you since your first meeting, you’d worked yourself into that circle almost unwittingly. And that means everything. 

He pulled back to breathe, pressing his forehead to yours and stroking over the line of your jaw with his thumb. “Frankie, you -”

“If I don’t let you go right now, I don’t know that I’m going to be able to. And I can’t… I can’t promise I’ll be able to rein myself in today.” 

You made your choice  - if there even was one to be made -  in an instant, your grip on him tightening at the same time you inhaled sharply, the hand on his hip sliding back so that you could urge his lower body against yours. 

“I don’t want you to. Ever.”

—

[sweet-n-s4lty]

The Strawhat Crew vs. Ramadan (Muslim!reader)

✩.* My gift to the Muslims who acc get to fast on the first day of Ramadan (I’m so jelly omg ☹️)

✩.* Tags: Ramadan, Muslim reader, ig somewhat ignorance from the crew??

“Yum!” Luffy tore into plates and plates of food before you. Since boarding the ship, you’d definitely taken a more sisterly role with him, to the point he felt the need to share his beloved food with you. “Here! Try, s’really good.” He waved a piece of meat in your face, waiting for you to take a bite.

“Can’t, Lu,” You smiled awkwardly as you pushed his hand back towards his face. “Looks good though…”

Luffy’s head tilted to the side as he looked at you with pondering curiosity. “But Sanji made it just how you like.”

“I knowww,” you groaned, imagine how the meat was feel between your teeth. “But I’m fasting, I can’t eat until—“ you checked your watch. “In five hours.”

“Until in five hours?”

“Until in five hours.” You sighed. A heat emanated from the day that made you want to tear your hair out from under your headscarf. Staying inside wasn’t an option as you were scared of getting sea sick in this sudden humidity as well as the lack of ventilation.

Luffy stared at you as he chewed, pondering in awkward silence as he racked his brain on why on earth you had a limit for food. “Are you on those diet things?”

“Pardon?” You scoffed.

“Well Robin told me that sometimes girls can’t eat all the time so they can be thin, but you seem pretty thin, all your clothes are baggy on you.”

You laughed at his words before going back to dangling your feet from the side of the boat you and him were perched on. You didn’t think he was serious until you realised he wasn’t laughing. “Oh wait, you’re serious?” He nodded.

You sat there with him for a good long while, enjoying the bore of the seren blue whilst you explained. Ramadan was finally here after you’d finally made up your fasts a few days prior.

Luffy stared at you in, what you assumed, was awe. He couldn’t comprehend the idea of not eating for that long. He looked up at the sky and it seemed the sun had yet to set. Unfortunately, the warmer seasons let days drag on for what seemed like forever and he felt a little sorry for you.

He whipped his head around making sure nobody was looking before waving his snack in your face once more. “Here, eat, eat,” he used a hand to cover the side of his face, like a little kid sharing a secret. “I won’t tell your God, you can take some!”

At least he has the spirit, right?

“Pardon?”

“I said I can’t eat this, Sanji,” You blinked at the taller man after he ushered you to the table to eat. You had to admit you felt slightly impolite denying tea after skipping breakfast and lunch, but Ramadan had just started and you were more determined than ever to get through this month without any problems.

The past couple of days were already spent making a few up so you’d already gotten used to the feeling, the hunger pangs subsiding. “I’m fasting.”

His eyebrows furrowed together slightly in what, you feared was, hurt. “I’m not gonna force you to eat the food if you don't want it, y’know?”

You waved your hands in defence. “I’m being so serious right now.” You assured him as best as you could.

The claims for innocence were definitely heard as the two of you spent the next 30 minutes sitting in the kitchen with you explaining the concept of Ramadan in the most intricate detail you could.

“So you don’t eat for— what— 15 to 16 hours?” His voice was husky as he hummed deep in thought about it. You nodded, happy he was finally getting it. “But couldn’t you fill yourself up with water throughout the day?”

“Nope, no water either.”

“No water?” His eyebrows raised as he looked at you with near sympathy. “Surely it gets hard, no mon cheri?”

You put a finger to your chin and thought about the best answer to give. “I mean, you get used to it after the first day, and I’ve been doing it for a while now I’m used to it!”

Sanji had spent the rest of his day thinking of ways to make your iftar one to remember, with new found determination once you’d told him that this cycle would continue for a month straight.

He buzzed around you, making sure to take notes of what you wanted to eat and ignoring Luffy’s pouted requests of any meat dish.

“C’mon you can listen to Luffy,” you smiled as you chuckled at his frown. “Besides, anything you make will be sufficient.”

He sighed. “You sure?”

“100 percent

You sat with Robin in the shaded area of the deck. Your head rested on her lap as she read her book, her hand idly running across the top of your hijab. Robin was the big sister you never had. She was so smart and pretty (mashallah), you couldn’t help but look up to her and she relished in the fact she could and would protect you. She saw a little bit of herself in you, something she’d never let you get wind of.

“Say, what do you plan to eat for Iftar? I don’t think we have dates.” She hummed.

You blinked up at her, groggy and head spinning, disoriented due to the weird “nap” you were pulling in and out of. “Huh?”

“It is Ramadan today, no?”

“Yeah…” you rubbed your eyes and sat up. “Yeah! It is!” You smiled, almost as if you’d forgotten why you were so hungry.

She laughed at you before helping you up. “Well we can make a stop quickly at the next island and see if we can pick up some dates, hm?”

“Yes please!”

Robin made it her mission to try and formulate the perfect Iftar for you with the help of Sanji. She read what she had to read and jotted down every vitamin and mineral you should have for the perfect balance.

She observed your prayer, had you teach her a little Quran and by the end of the day, her head was steaming with information she was previously oblivious to.

She had the widest, cutest smile on her face during Iftar, in which the whole crew tried not to eat in front of you.

“Why do you look so chipper?” You chuckled, nudging her arm as she bit into a samosa.

“I love Ramadan.”

[mylostloversbookmarks]

Hold on to me, 'Cause I'm a little unsteady

Characters - Joel Miller x Reader, Tommy Miller, OC.

Summary - After the fight with Joel, you are met with a familiar face at the bar. That familiar face tell's you something that Joel has never spoken about. You don't know how to process or move past it.

Word Count - 4.8K

Warnings/Tags - 18+ only Minors dni. Typical canon language, Swearing, Heavy on the Angst (again I'm so sorry), Alcohol consumption, character death, Mentions of panic attacks and anxiety, Grieving!Joel, I think that's all?

A/N - Set Pre-Outbreak! This is a follow on from 'Do You Want Me Or Do You Not?' Another huge thank you to @pedgeitopascal for beta reading and being the best hype woman going! ILYSM <3

Feedback is always appreciated!

Read Chpt 1 here ~ Do You Want Me Or Do You Not?

Divider credit to @saradika

You turn your head slightly to look over your shoulder at the lean man standing behind you. You didn't need to check who it was because you already knew, but it felt impolite not to acknowledge him. You sigh heavily and nod to the empty barstool beside you, then turn to face the bartender, who was quickly wiping down the bar.

Picking up your glass, you throw the remainder of your drink back in one large mouthful, swallowing hard and savouring the way the liquid burned your throat and spread heat radiating through your chest like little tendrils of fire.

"Hey, could I get another and a beer for him, please?" You asked the bartender, who had made her way down to your corner.

"Sure, honey," she said, her voice low and breathy. You raised your eyebrows, then chuckled under your breath as you followed her gaze and realised that she was staring dreamily at your new drinking partner.

"Seriously, Tommy, can you go anywhere without trying to take someone home with you?" You rolled your eyes and poked your elbow into his ribs with a halfhearted attempt at a smile.

"I didn't even do anything; she started it!" He laughed and winked at the admittedly beautiful woman behind the bar.

She giggled, and you could see the start of a blush creeping into her cheeks as she quickly turned her back to get started on your drink order.

"I'm telling you it's the power of the stache." He chuckled as he twirled the corners of the dark hair on his upper lip, wiggling his eyebrows up and down like a cartoon character.

You know that he is trying to lighten the mood and cheer you up a bit. You have a feeling this meeting isn't random and that he's already heard about your fight with his brother.

"Oh yeah, that's definitely it," you agree sarcastically, laughing despite yourself.

"So is this a chance encounter or have you been speaking to Joel?" You ask without meeting his eyes. Something in you hopes that he has spoken to Joel, not only so you can gauge what kind of mood he is now in but also to make sure he is okay.

"Okay, you got me," he sighs, holding his hands up in surrender.

"He called me about a half hour ago; he's worried about you. He said you guys had a fight. He tried to call you, but your phone was in the house, and you'd been gone for a few hours, so he was worried. Sarah's in bed, so he asked if I could look for you and make sure you were okay, and here I am." He gave you a small smile, brimming with sympathy.

Over the years, Tommy had become one of your closest friends, even though he was Joel's brother. He was your closest confidant. You know you can tell him anything and it will never go any further.

"Well, you found me! I'm guessing it didn't take you too long," you huffed.

"Y/N, what happened? Joel didn't tell me anything; he just said it was bad, and he sounded like a wreck. I don't mean to pry, but you two never fight like this." He leaned forward on his stool, mirroring your posture as he rested his elbows on the bar top.

Knowing you couldn't get out of answering him, you took a deep breath and blew it out through your mouth. You raised your head and met his eyes for the first time since he sat beside you, and you instantly wished you hadn't. Swallowing hard against the lump that was quickly making a reappearance in your throat.

Saved by the bartender as she set another double on the grubby coaster in front of you, she placed a small napkin with what you assumed was the bar's logo printed on one of the corners, but on further inspection, it was her phone number. You smiled into your glass as you took another sip of your drink.

"By the way, my name is Valentina," she said to the man beside you, sharing a small smile with you, and just as she was about to tell you your total, you beat her to it.

"Don't worry, he's buying," you said, laughing for the first time all night.

"Yeah, I suppose I deserve that," he says, rolling his eyes at you.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he chuckles and hands Valentina a twenty, telling her to keep the change. She nods, looking at the napkin, and then back to Tommy, who carefully picks it up and folds it into his flannel's breast pocket.

Giving her another wink, he turns to you questioningly. "Well? What happened?" Raising an eyebrow and lifting his beer to his lips. Knowing full well that if you go through the events of the evening again, you will end up in tears.  So you decide to keep it simple.

"He came home in a mood and lost his temper. He asked me what I was even doing with him—with Sarah. Why don't I go find another guy to "play house with"?" You use the first two fingers of both hands to make air quotes around the last sentence.

You could hear Tommy's audible intake of breath over the hum of chatter as the final words left your mouth. He's just staring at you, wide-eyed, with his mouth open in surprise. He knows his brother can be an asshole at times, but he never thought he would speak to you like that.

"Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction," you sigh, taking another deep sip of your drink, swirling the glass in your hand, and admiring how the ice forms beautiful patterns on the surface.

"Jesus, Y/N, I'm really sorry. That's fucked up. I can't believe he said that to you," Tommy says in disbelief.

His hand runs back and forth over his top lip and leaves it there. He was racking his brain for the right thing to say. You smile up at him, appreciating the position he is in. Joel is not only his brother but also his best friend, and it must be difficult for him to listen to his brother's relationship problems from anyone other than Joel himself.

"Listen Tommy. I appreciate you checking in on me, and I must say I'm impressed you found me so quickly, but I'm not going to make you sit here on a Friday night and listen to your brother's girlfriend gossip about him. Go have fun with Valentina; I'm sure her shift ends soon. You deserve to have a good time after the shifts you've put in this week." You try your hardest to make the smile convincing, but he can see it doesn't meet your eyes, and he knows you're hurting.

"Well, first of all, you're not just my brother's girlfriend. You also happen to be my best friend, and as tempting as Valentina is, I think I'm going to stick around. You can have another drink, and then I'll take you home." Tommy states, leaving you no room to argue.

You can feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes as he mentions taking you home. What if Joel doesn't want you to come back? What if you can't move past this?

Tommy can see you spiralling and pulls you into his chest as your eyes brim over and the tears start again. You let him comfort you because you don't know what else to do and you feel helpless as your life seems to be crumbling around you.

"Shhh, sweetheart, it's going to be alright. Joel doesn't always express his emotions well, but on anniversaries, he tends to either bottle them up or spill them over; I guess today he just let them out." Tommy soothes you, rubbing small circles on your shoulder with his thumb.

You sniffle and pull back from his chest, trying to get a hold of your own emotions, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. What he is saying doesn't make any sense.

"What do you mean? Our anniversary isn't until November?" You take a deep breath, waiting for him to explain.

"No, Darlin, not your anniversary. It's her anniversary," he said quietly, gently removing his arm from your shoulder and looking at the chipped bar top in front of him, lost in his own memories.

"Tommy I know I've had a drink, but I'm not following. What are you talking about?" Your brows furrow. Why is everyone being so cryptic today?

"The anniversary of Jessica's death, Y/N," he says in a low, strained voice.

You could tell that he was fighting to keep his emotions in check. You just stared back at him. Your eyes searched his face for more information but found nothing.

You haven't heard Joel or Tommy talk about someone named Jessica before. Racking your brain to bring a memory to the forefront of your mind that did not exist You don't know who he is talking about.

"What?" Your voice was inaudible. It was just a breath. If Tommy hadn't been searching your face, he would have missed it entirely.

"Joel's wife…Sarah's mom?" He looked you in the eyes with genuine concern. He was wondering how much you had to drink. Even though there was only one glass in front of you when he arrived.

"Sarah's…Joels…w-what?" you stutter out.

You were both having the same thought at that moment. You began to wonder if the alcohol was starting to take effect; your brain felt fuzzy, speeding at 100mph to try and make sense of what Tommy was telling you.

"Y/N, are you alright?" "Let me get you some water," he said, standing from his stool and waving Valentina over to ask for a glass of water.

She filled it straight from the tap and handed it to him. You sat with your head in your hands, trying to take deep breaths to keep your stomach from flipping.

Tommy kneels in front of you and presses his hand against your knee, pleading with you to drink. You take a few large gulps and tell him that you need to get some air.

You turn on your heel and push through the crowd of people.

In your moping, you hadn't taken notice of your surroundings or how busy the bar had gotten. You finally make it to the doors and fling them open with more force than you mean to. Immediately, you start inhaling lungfuls of the humid night air, but it is not enough.

Your chest is rapidly rising and falling, as if an elephant is standing over you with its foot on your chest. You can't get enough oxygen. You need to calm down.

Slowly you slide down the wall, leaning against the old, shabby brick, until you reach the floor, trying to calm your rapid breathing by pushing your head between your knees.

"Y/N?!…Y/N?!" You hear Tommy's equally panicked voice emerging from the bar.

You don't have it in yourself to speak just yet, so you raise a shaky hand into the air and wave him over. Holding up one finger as your breathing begins to return to normal.

"Y/N I'm so sorry, are you alright? I didn't know; I thought you knew." He rushed out, words failing him.

"Joel had a wife, and she…died?" You choke out.

You had no idea when you looked up at Tommy that his heart was breaking all over again. Memories of his brother, broken and hollow. A shell of who he used to be. It took a long time for Joel to be where he is today.

How could you not know? How could Joel have kept this from you after all these years? He never spoke about Sarah's mother, you just assumed that the relationship hadn't worked out and he had custody of his daughter.

"Yes, Darlin, he did. C'mon, let's get you off the ground; we can talk in the truck," he whispered, leaning over to wrap an arm around your shoulders to offer you support.

He knew you weren't drunk, but you still needed him to brace you. The numbness in your legs returned as you concentrated on moving one in front of the other.

Tommy opened the cab of the truck silently, helping you in and closing the door after you. He circled the front of the cab and paused for a few moments before climbing in himself. He let out a deep breath that whooshed through the cab of the truck.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a small voice. Knowing immediately that it was a stupid question.

You didn't know how to answer him; you just stare blankly out the windscreen of the truck. Tears were burning your eyes and staining where they had fallen onto your grey t-shirt. You only realised you were shivering as Tommy wrapped his jacket around your shoulders.

"What happened, Tommy? When did it happen? Why didn't I…why wouldn't he?" You cried into your hands.

"I just left him there; he is in pain, and I just left him alone." As the realisation set in, a new wave of heart-wrenching sobs broke from your chest.

Joel Miller had lost his wife, and you left him when he needed you the most because of some stupid argument.

"Sweetheart, you didn't know. You couldn't have known. Do not blame yourself for this. It's not your fault, and it's not anyone else's fault." His voice trembled as he soothed you. Tears escaped the corners of his eyes.

"Tommy, I need to see him. I need to speak to Joel." You felt numb as you fastened your seatbelt and went back to staring out the windscreen. You didn't speak for the rest of the journey home, and neither did he.

You were both lost in your own minds. You're trying to process everything, and Tommy is lost in memories that feel like they belong to another life entirely. Before you knew it, Tommy was pulling into the driveway of the house you shared with Joel and Sarah.

Even though it was well past midnight, the porch light remained on. You knew Joel was waiting for you, and you desperately wanted to run into the house and throw your arms around him.

To bury your head in the crook of his neck and tell him everything is going to be okay and that you are sorry, that you shouldn't have left, and that you will never leave again.

Your feet wouldn't move. You stared at Tommy as he jumped down from the step of the truck. Your eyes widened in fear as you realised what was waiting on the other side of the front door.

You don't know where to begin. How do you look the person you love most in this world in the face and tell him that you know about the secret they have been keeping for so many years? You don't want to hurt him by bringing up painful memories, but he has to know.

"Tommy, I don't know what to do," you mumble, your voice raw from the tears welling up in your eyes.

"I know; I'm here. It's okay; you will get through this. I'll come in, and we can all talk." He moves quickly to your side and moves you forward with him.

When you place your foot on the first step of the porch, the front door swings open, and you find yourself in Joel's arms. You can't help but watch as your arms wrap around his neck, hands fisting in the hair at the nape of his neck. You sob openly into his chest, barely able to catch your breath.

"I'm so sorry, Joel. I'm so sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry." You feel his strong arms wrap around your body like an iron cage.

Joel moves his hands to cradle either side of your face. He looks into your eyes, and he knows. He looks at his brother and by the look of guilt and confusion in his eyes, He knows you now know the painful secret he couldn't bring himself to tell you.

It feels like the world has been lifted off his shoulders. He crushes you to his chest and buries his face in your hair. You have no idea how long you stood there holding each other.

The buzz of fireflies in the air around you and the hot summer night causes your skin to stick to his where it is exposed at his neck and his arms. Joel kisses your temple and takes your face in his strong hands, tracing a calloused finger across your cheekbone.

"C'mon, let's get you inside; Tommy will be passed out on the couch at this rate," he husked, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Sure enough, when the two of you made your way into the living room, Tommy was sprawled out on the sofa, his feet, still in his work boots, resting on the arm. His eyes closed by jaw not yet slack. You assumed he was trying to give you both a moment of privacy. Joel walked over and hit the toe of his boot with a smack.

"Get up, you can sleep later, but we need to talk, and I need you." He murmurs to the man slumped over the couch.

Joel hasn't let go of your hand since he embraced you on the porch. As if he's afraid you'll vanish if he lets go. He walks you into the kitchen, the mess from earlier gone, and motions for you to sit, pulling out one of the dining room chairs.

Tommy is sitting in the armchair in the living room, unlacing his work boots. He toes them off and comes to meet you both at the table. Joel opens the top cupboard of the kitchen cabinet and produces a bottle of Jameson's and three glasses.

Placing them on the table, he shares a look with his brother. You were almost sure that he was thanking him for tonight. For giving him the opportunity to be completely honest with you. Something he's long wanted to do but couldn't put into words.

"I have to go get something, Y/N baby, can you pour us a glass, I'll only be a minute," Joel asks as he strokes his fingers through your hair; you can't help but lean into his affection after the earlier hostility.

You look up at him as his touch lingers; your eyes are puffy and your skin is blotchy from all the crying, and it's like a spear to his already damaged heart.

He hates upsetting you, and he feels like a bastard for the words he threw at you mere hours ago. With one final kiss to your forehead, satisfied that you are not going anywhere, he lets go of your hand and heads for the stairs.

You let out a breath that you felt like you had been holding for a lifetime. Tommy follows suit and scratches the back of his neck, you want him to know how grateful you are for him telling you about Jessica, and take the opportunity now when Joel is upstairs.

"Thank you for telling me. I know you didn't do it on purpose; you thought I already knew, but I am glad I know now. I don't think Joel would have ever been able to bring it up himself, even if he wanted to. " You smile fondly at the man sitting across from you. You really did get lucky in the best friend department.

"I'm just sorry that's how you found out. It should have been different, and I'm sorry." Tommy spoke sincerely, taking hold of your hand that was resting on the table and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Alright, alright, can you stop making moves on my girl Miller?" Joel teased as he made his way back into the kitchen, clapping his hand on his brother's shoulder and giving it a squeeze as he passed.

Trying to lighten the mood before getting ready for what was to come He was holding a box in his large hands, dwarfing it, though it looked to be a bit bigger than a shoe box. Tommy gives him a knowing look and a nod of encouragement as Joel set it down in front of you and opened the lid.

He pulled out his chair and sat between you and Tommy. He hands you the first picture he pulls from the box. Staring back at you from the photo is a woman with a mane of shoulder-length curls, the colour of obsidian.

She has bright eyes that reminded you of Sarah's and a beaming smile that seemed to radiate happiness. As you examined the photograph, a smile formed on your lips.

"This is Jessica," Joel said quietly, his voice thick with unshed tears. You looked up to meet his gaze and could see his eyes misting.

"She is so beautiful, Joel," you said, your voice cracking as you reached your hand up to stroke his cheek, his facial hair soft against the pad of your thumb. He reflexively leaned into your touch and sighed heavily.

"It was 14 years ago today that she was driving home from the airport after a trip to visit her parents. Sarah was only a few months old, so Jess didn't want her to go on the aeroplane, so I stayed home with her. I wanted to pick her up from the airport when she got back, but she insisted on taking a cab to avoid disturbing Sarah's night routine. And on the way back home, the cab she was in was hit by another driver who was texting. She never made it home." He lets the tears flow freely now, with you holding his hand and stroking your fingers back and forth to soothe him.

Tommy is on his other side, hand resting on his shoulder. Joel takes a deep, jagged breath and lets it go, finishing off the rest of his glass and pouring another. Topping yours and Tommy's as he does so.

"Joel, I am so sorry. I know nothing I say will make it hurt any less, but I am." Tears pool in your eyes at the thought that the life you have been living for the last four years is the one she never got to, and it breaks your heart all over again.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry. It was too painful for me to talk about it with anyone. On her anniversary, Tommy usually just takes me out to a bar and drinks with me; we don't talk about what happened. I don't think I would have ever been able to if it wasn't for tonight." The words are tumbling out of his mouth, and you notice towards the end that he is just thinking out loud.

Joel is realising for the first time himself that he would truly never have spoken of her again. The woman he still loves to his very core, the mother of his only child. How could he let his pain cloud her memory all these years?

He didn't know where to begin broaching the topic with you; he wanted you to know everything about him, and yet he felt a constant anxiety that would make his heart feel like it had stopped when he thought about telling you the truth.

He knew that he made it seem like Jessica had left him and Sarah when she was only a few months old—not that he ever explicitly said those words, but he didn't give any explanation, and in his defence, you had never asked for one.

"Sarah knows what happened; she was so young that she has no memory of her mom, and she would look through this sometimes." He placed his hand on the lid of the open box, his fingers etching small swirls in the dust that had collected there over time.

"But she would never ask much about her; I think she knows that it hurts me to talk about her. I feel like I have denied her the chance to know who her mother was, and I don't think I can ever forgive myself for that." He let out a weary sigh, exhaustion evident on his face.

"Well, you don't need to worry about that big brother. Sarah talks to me about Jess. She knows who her mom was, and she understands why there aren't any photos of her around the house and why you don't talk about her. You don't need to feel guilty for grieving, Joel," Tommy said. Speaking in a tone that you have not heard from him before, it was as if the brothers' roles were reversed for a moment.

"Thanks, baby brother. You know, I think it's time that changed, though. I want there to be pictures of her around the place. I want to remember the good memories. I want to remember her instead of burying my head in the sand. Is that okay with you, Y/N? This is your home too, and I don't want to make you uncomfortable." He looks at you sincerely. A light in his eye that you have never seen before.

"Of course it is Joel. I would like that very much; Jessica is still part of this family, of our family, and I would be honoured to have her pictures around the house," you agreed eagerly.

He smiled at you; it was a warm smile that met his eyes, shining with hope, relief, and pure love. It made your heart feel like it would burst out of your chest. How could it be possible to love someone as much as you loved this man?

This family is your family, and you will do everything you can to make sure Jessica remains a part of it. You know that Joel will never be fully healed from the loss of his wife. That isn't how grief works, but you will be there by his side to help him through the dark days and to rejoice with him on the good ones.

"Okay, I think that's enough whisky for one night, boys," you say as you shove the cork back into the bottle with a thunk. Standing from the table, you stretch; your bones are tired and sore from being tensed all night.

"Time for bed; we have to get up early tomorrow!" you state matter-of-factly, looking down at the two men who shared a confused glance at each other before looking up at where you stood by the corner of the table.

"Uh, Y/N tomorrow is Saturday. Saturday's mean lie-ins?" Tommy's voice goes up an octave at the end of his sentence, turning it into a question.

Joel looked at his brother nodding in agreement, before backing him up with a pointed finger and a "Yeah, what he said!" You laughed at them both and shook your head.

"No, not this Saturday. We are going to get up. Go for a family breakfast, and then we need to go pick out some new picture frames." You finished with a nod of your head, leaving no room for argument.

"You heard the lady; it's time to hit the sack," Joel chuckled.

God, it was good to hear him laugh after all that had happened today. He places his big hand on Tommy's shoulder and gives it another firm squeeze as he stands from the table, pulling his chair back with his other hand. You walk around the dining table and press a quick peck to Tommy's cheek, wishing him goodnight.

"You better be buying breakfast!" He mumbled under his breath, making you and Joel laugh as you made your way through the living room to the stairs.

As you pass Sarah's room, you crack the door open to check on her, seeing her sleeping peacefully, her mop of dark curls spread across her pillow, and her soft snores making their way to your ears and squeezing at your heart.

Once you reach your bedroom, you start to undress, not bothering with your pyjamas tonight. Your bones ached, and you could hear the bed calling to you.

You know Joel is thinking the same thing as he lets his clothes fall in a heap on the floor at the foot of the bed. He crawls into bed beside you. He pulls your back into his chest and rubs his thumb up and down your ribs. The two of you lay there for a while, no words needing to be spoken, just enjoying the closeness after a very emotional day.

"Thank you," he murmurs into your ear, his voice low and gravely; it makes the baby hairs on the back of your neck stand up and goosebumps spread across your skin.

"What for?" you ask confused.

"For being such a beautiful, caring human. For being so understanding when I have been lying to you all these years, and for allowing her to be part of our lives. I know today has been really hard, but I promise, baby, it will get better from here on out. I will be better," he whispers into your ear, the words full of sincerity.

You turn to face him, bringing your hand up to stroke his face. You can see how drained he is by the way his eyelids are closing as you softly scratch your fingers through the hair on his cheek. You lean in and place a lingering kiss on his lips.

"I'm not mad at you for lying to me Joel, I understand why you couldn't tell me about Jessica. I need you to know that. I'm just glad you don't have to shoulder this on your own now" you nuzzle your nose against his. He nods in acknowledgement and runs the back of his fingers across your cheek.

"And how can you be better when you're already the best?" You whisper softly against his mouth.

"I love you more than you will ever know, Y/N." he breathes. Pressing a sweet whisky-scented kiss against your lips as he drifts to sleep.

[cocktailjjrs]

He LIVED Bitches!!!!

Long post ahead

First thing first... I love this starting pallet (i'm definitely overthinking)

Not complete white not complete black with prominent shadows, because every major character in the show is grey and one half of each partnership likes to lurk in shadows...This just highlights that things won't always be merry and colourful, but they won't completely be helpless...

Now to the episode itself...

We knew Aya was going to jump... Glad she was oh so delicately caught by Aku... I didn't think it was possible to clear everything in one episode, but expect the unexpected i guess...

And the main part of Dazai being alive and kicking...No but really, this is such a relief...

I kinda had the whole thing in the back of my mind that they can't kill Dazai, he is necessary for the plot armour to plot armour and all that shit...

But there was equal chances of Asagiri taking notes from Isayama or Gege and just decide, fuck it... let's keep him dead....If not the confirmed dead thing, then the dead till stated otherwise route that Hori took.

But i'm soooo glad Asagiri didn't do that!!!

Also, glad to know he is still as cocky as ever

AND AND AND

I screamed!!!! My fam started looking at me for two whole minutes like i've just gone crazy!!!

Because we got the prettiest boy speaking!!!

The look on Fyodor's face when he realised he was played by the one he had completely under his control (or he thought he had)... I think he realised the 'shallow bond' comment haunted him in this moment

I will deep dive into what exactly happened in those seconds in a later post, but i just wanna say

This is soooo damn funny!!!! Like you have this big bad mafia boss who has been MIA for the whole part of world destruction and his precious city being in the centre of it all (lets face it mori loves Yokohama more than he loves the whole world, he would gladly let the world burn if it means keeping that damn trouble-magnet city safe!) - BUT BUT BUT, then when things start to look up you only get a mention of the said boss and that too with a goofy fact such as he glued in vampire fangs to one of his executives! Don't tell me it's not an embarrassing dad thing to do, because it is!!!

I just know he, Hirotsu and Koyo has a hell of a time getting teenage soukoku to adulthood alive!!!

I mean -

WHAT DO YOU MEAN SIR YOU USED TO DO THIS ALL THE TIME???

No one's doing it like them!!!

Plus i just know Manga coming out is going to be even more gay than the anime, there will be more explanations and more fruity moments!!!

On a sad note...

Fyodor actually seems to be dead ( even if i don't believe it)

It hurt so bad to see Gogol man going - i wanted him dead, no i didnt, but maybe i did. His voice alone mad me sad...

But you know what i'm not sad about???

Getting rid of Fukuchi!!!

I'm not going to pretend that i felt even an ounce of sympathy for him, his whole 'i did this so you can bring peace' or 'some sacrifices are necessary for greater good' thing seemed forced to me. Like a desperate attempt at ending his character arc on a forgiving note, positive note...

But like i said, most characters in this show are grey... But there was none of Fukuchi's shade, and i didn't like it, even if in the end he wanted peace.

i do feel sad for Fukuzawa though,

He will have to live with that curse...

Plus i don't think Fukuchi is completely gone...

Decay of angel's may be over, but the mess they have left behind is not, there is still the other side of the page and whatever the fuck went down in those two hours...

But i'm glad that atleast Aku and Atsushi are on same side this time...

and this looks so much like:

So yeah, it's just another start!!!

Plus, You remember Soukoku came to fame after final battle of Dragon Head conflict?

The Finale of Decay of Angels will the foundation of Shinsoukoku's journey...

The two of them against all the threats to come...

We sure are in for a treat!!!