#but they were definitely SO apathetic about one another

[arthur-lesters-left-arm]

change my mind: bella and arthur lester were in an accidental lavender marriage

[6ronze]

BOSS’S WIFE

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ ─── 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍!𝐑𝐀𝐍 w fem!reader who’s his boss’, Mikey’s, wife. warning(s) -> angst. nsfw. mdni. ran x reader + mikey x reader. infidelity obvly. a lil bit apathetic reader. dark themes(prostitution mention, drugs, murder). hints of lovesick ran. unrequited love from ran to reader. one-night stand vibes. near death experience. cheater!reader ig. alleged cheater!mikey. there’s some slowburn cs you’re stubborn. miscommunication between mikey and reader. endearments (darling, princess, etc.). car sex. praise. a lot of plot. i dont condone cheating whatsoever. not proofread. wc is 4.5k

author’s comment. mmyyeaahh so i def have a fav haitani now + urghhh not too happy w this BUT i liked exploring the idea

It was hours past midnight, the city cold and humid from recent rain that had stopped minutes ago. You sat beside your husband, Manjiro ‘Mikey’ Sano, on the couch of the isolated jazz club that he owned. He was talking business with some other yakuza men, something about delivery and drugs, perhaps a brief topic of prostitution exchange.

The unsettling environment wasn’t out of the ordinary for you anymore, not since you’ve known Mikey. You’ve stuck to him since middle school—more like he made you stick to him. But you never really made an effort to leave.

He satisfied you enough, your needs, emotionally and physically. Nothing made you feel better than the feeling of being needed, and your husband was the same. He needed an anchor, a reason to be. Coincidentally, you were willing to be both.

“You don’t have to stay here if you’re getting bored, baby. ‘Could always walk around the building or take a smoke outside. I’ll have someone guard you,” you heard your husband speak, snapping you out of your trance. Mikey held an arm around your shoulder, fingers rubbing up and down your arm comfortingly—the complete contrast of the look he had in his eyes. His dark depths gazing at you as if he couldn’t give a fuck if you lived or died the next few seconds. But Mikey never acted like that, of course. He was a great husband considering the lifestyle he led.

“Alright, I’ll do that then,” you nodded obediently, not finding the harm in accepting the given opportunity to leave the monotonous conversation. So you got up after leaving Mikey a quick kiss to his cheek, walking away from the table and walking over to the backdoor exit of the building.

As you did so, you walked past one of Mikey’s men, a familiar tall purple haired man. You recognised him from the corner of your eye, your peripheral vision doing you a favour by informing you who your guard for the night was. It wasn’t a surprise he followed you without having to be ordered, always doing such things involving you voluntarily.

“Shouldn’t stray too far from the building, darling,” you heard him call out to you, most likely, from behind as you stepped out into the window streets, road pretty empty save for the occasional passing cabs.

Your lips strained downward for a split second.

“You’ll be here to lead me back, Ran,” a breathy sigh left your lips, faint smoke leaving your lips from the cold. Your hands tugged on the white faux fur coat you had on, a vain attempt to keeping your tense torso warm. With a confident stride, you kept on walking ahead, paying no regard to the man who tagged behind you like it was his personal wish rather than a dull order from his boss.

“That doesn’t guarantee that I’ll lead you back healthy. You’ll definitely get a cold if you keep walking out here like this,” he retorted without much effort, his tone slight frustrated despite his matter-of-factly manner of answering you. It made your brow twitch, your lips pressed to a thin straight line.

You didn’t add another word to the exchange, letting it hang. Cars proceeded to drive past the road beside you, your legs bringing you further and further away from the jazz club you recently left. It was almost like you were running away. And you were almost determined to do so, though you long knew that was never an option anymore.

Ran noticed every change of your body language even though he only had the view of your back. The subtly tremble of your legs were enough to alarm him, narrowing his lilac eyes and fueling his resolve to keep an eye on you, not for his boss’s sake—for your sake.

Subtly splashes of water from the passing cars filled the atmosphere, faint engines and dim city building lights and with lamp lights setting the perfect atmosphere for you to envision your escape. Everything seemed so perfect, so staged, too good to be true. You were so focused on getting ahead, on heading away miles away from wherever Mikey was—until you were pulled out of it.

A sharp car screech filled the previously silent noise. Suddenly your ears were ringing, all the noise you cancelled out returning to you again. You turned your head, heels backtracking from shock. Ran’s hand held a nearly painful grip on your upper arm, pulling you back with reasinably strength.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? If that’s what it is then I got a gun with silencer on it for ya to use, for fuck’s sake!” Ran was practically yelling, his voice raised and his expression contorted to one of anger and worry. His brows were furrowed deeply, vein on his forehead and neck practically bulging as he pulled back a bit more before finally releasing you.

“W-what?” was all you could utter, blinking up at him with wide eyes, a bit dumbfounded about the situation.

“You almost got yourself run over by a car, what’s gotten into you? Ya need sleep, or something?” Ran seemed to answer your confusion without hesitation, the realisation that you almost died making you turn around and take in your surroundings.

Shit.

A sports car was practically swerved over to the sidewalk, thankfully not crashing into a post light. The driver drove off after yelling crazy bitch out his window. The insult made Ran grit his teeth, head tilted in further annoyance. You stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could do anything, stealing his attention quite quickly.

“I’m fine. Really. Just tired, like you said,” you muttered with a soft sigh after, lowering your head to gather yourself. All the while you had your lids closed shut, you felt a warm arm circle your shoulders.

“C’mon, let’s get you back,” he murmured, almost trying to comfort you. And in a way it did, he did—his warmth did. You followed him silently, letting him guide you back to the jazz club where Mikey was again.

While you were mostly silent throughout the walk, you eventually spoke up when you realised you were gonna have to face Mikey again. You felt a bit guilty for feeling like this, for wanting to avoid your own husband. But it wasn’t your fault you needed some space, some air to breath away from the heavy atmosphere and tension that was always there with him.

“I don’t wanna go back yet,” you objected, halting your steps abruptly.

Surprisingly, or not, Ran doesn’t scold you. Instead, he stops with you, arm never loosening around you. He merely looks down at you, taking in every detail on your expression at that moment and taking a moment to think about where he could possibly whisk you away to.

“Fine. My car. Then we head back, you hear me?” Ran conceded with a soft huff, centre of his brows still slightly creased from his frowning. He exhaled a quiet okay when you nodded in agreement, hand squeezing your upper arm gently to urge you to keep on walking.

It didn’t take too long for him to find your way to his car parked a few buildings away from the jazz club where Mikey was still in probably. Ran unlocked the car, opening the door of the backseat before gently nudging you in, following suit right after you.

Ran didn’t bother moving to start the engine, knowing the last thing you needed was the AC making you colder than you already were. Speaking of which, Ran couldn’t help but notice your shivering self that quivered against him, the sight of you leaning into him so desperately making him feeling a heavy pang of affection, worry, and a whole bundle of emotions he knew he shouldn’t have, things that he kept buried in the depths of his heart. And yet being in your presence for a few minutes was enough to unravel all of it, every dark detail of it.

“You’re actually chittering, princess,” he muttered, leaning down to press a chaste kiss onto the top of your head, a soft chuckle leaving his lips too in an effort to lighten the mood.

“And you’re actually annoying,” you refuted, voice small yet breathy as you shifted yourself on the leather seats, nuzzling under his arm and into his chest. Your arms were folded over your chest, holding your fur coat close to you. “Hmph, so mean,” you heard him whisper back, sarcasm lacing every syllable.

You more focused on warming yourself up at the moment, but that didn’t mean you didn’t notice how touchy and warm Ran was being. All the questions popped up in your mind about him, until you started questioning yourself, your own actions. You allowed him to do everything he did. You followed him back and forth, allowed him to bring you close to him, hell you even agreed to get in his car when you could’ve suggested some random alleyway to get a breather.

At some point, your shivering stopped. Your arms were wrapped around yourself, eyes staring mindlessly at his lap with your expression awfully neutral—the opposite of your mind that spiralled.

But a few breathers was all it took for you to forget. To dismiss everything. It wasn’t unlike Mikey had done the same anyway, entertaining other people like you were. For all you know, he’s probably done worse considering the amount of clubs he’s went to without you.

Now you’ve somewhat rationalised your actions, you lifted your head from Ran’s chest, tilting your head up to look at him. It seemed like he was staring at you already with how your gazes locked immediately.

“What is it, princess?” He broke the silence with that hoarse yet gentle voice of his, smiling faintly at you as if you were a stray cat he was trying to coax closer. As much as he loved staring into your beautiful eyes, he knew if he allowed to moment to stretch any longer his lips would end up pressed against yours—and just maybe more.

“Just wondering why you give a fuck about me in the first place.”

Ran could feel his smile fade from his face, his violet eyes no longer making an effort to look lighthearted for you. Those downturned eyes of his shifted to a stern gaze, almost determined.

If you thought your mind spiralled, his was a whole damn hurricane now.

“That’s an easy question. Though the answer’s probably something you don’t wanna know,” he answered cryptically, hand on your shoulder squeezing you once.

“You’d wish you never knew,” you heard him add, voice low yet barely above a whisper. You felt your breath hitch in throat, eyes fixated on him still. You felt your mouth dry up and closed your lips, brows furrowing slight as you turned away from him.

“I want to know. I don’t care about some creepy consequence you’re so worried about, Ran. All I’m asking about is why you act so nice w—,” you were stopped between your rant, your attempt to persuade him to be honest with you backfiring.

In a blink of an eye, he had his hand push you back against the seat, lips parted from his persistent tongue. You mumbled something but the kiss muffled your words, previously widened eyes now turning half-lidded from his warmth and shortness of breath.

“R-Ran, get a hold of yourself,” you panted once he broke the kiss, your hands reaching up to his chest and shoulder, failing to push him off of you. He kept you corner between the small space of him and the backrest behind you, face inches away from yours still.

You caught your breath, hands pushing him growing weaker until you decided to let up. Your eyes flickered from your lap up to his face, the resolve in his gaze unwavering.

“What does this mean?” You whispered, quizzically looking at him. The confusion on you towards his actions almost made Ran smile, but all he could manage was a faint laugh.

“Means that I love you.”

The crease between your brows deepened at his confession.

You weren’t exactly pleased per se, but it did make sense. It made a lot of sense. Made his demeanour towards you logical.

You suspected his feelings for you before, though you never entertained the thought. Ran was busy beyond words being Mikey’s executive, and you on the other hand were married. Yet it seems like that didn’t seem to bother Ran much.

“How exactly am I supposed to respond to that, Ran?” You sighed, almost pleading, beautiful orbs of yours falling to your lap once more.

“That’s the thing. You don’t.”

Huh?

Before you could open your mouth, he sealed your lips in another kiss, needier this time. He wanted to shut you up, to take your mind off things—everything. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working.

How could you possibly think about anything else when Ran had a hand on your thigh, running up the thin pantyhose you wore under that dark red leather miniskirt. The force of his greedy kisses made you slump up the plush seat behind you, making you lean over to the side until your back was against the window of the car door. Ran had another hand on your waist, skimming under your coat to cup the flesh your side.

“You don’t have to say a word—I don’t want an answer from you. Just want you, baby,” the man grunted into your mouth, tongue swiping against yours and teeth tugging on your lower lip. His breath was as heavy, much like yours.

It was hard for you not to reciprocate his kisses, his touch, not when he had you cornered with little to no space to move or focus on anything but him. And that was exactly what he wanted—your undivided attention, even if it was just for the moment.

Ran was tired of just admiring you from afar, exhausted from having to settle with the women that kept throwing themselves at him in the clubs he went to after work.

What he hated most was having to imagine you and your stunning figure beneath him whenever he was fucking those girls, having to wish he could see you every day after work like his boss could. Ran wanted the real thing so badly, he fucking craved it. But he hid those desires so well that it would leave anyone in Bonten in shock if they knew he had the fattest, more ridiculous crush on you.

Like a student to his teacher. It was humiliating, yet so fucking thrilling. And that was just it with Ran. Nothing had him more addicted to something other than the excitement.

So while Ran had his hands all over you, lips kissing you everywhere, he made sure to savour it. To take his time suckling on your red tongue, nibbling and marking on your swollen bottom lips that he had damp with saliva. Ran had to make sure you enjoyed it too—‘cause fuck if you didn’t want him as much he wanted you—

“Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart,” he whispered through bated breath, shifting himself and grabbing one of your legs to lift on the car seat, wanting to be between your legs.

His demands were almost impossible to deny anymore. He’s made your mind hazy from the lewd, sloppy kisses he’s given you. The cold air only made it worse since it only made you crave warmth more than you should—his warmth.

“Good girl, that’s it,” you heard him praise you, his slender fingers running over the waistband of your leather skirt, unfastening the metal button and pulling down the zip. His violet eyes were sickeningly fixated on your lower-half, as if in anticipation to see your most intimate parts—more like anticipating what kind of panties you were wearing, what kind of lingerie you preferred.

You whined softly, still unsure what he was praising you for exactly. Was it for your cooperation? If so then he’ll have to keep on praising you for the next few minutes ‘cause you’d seriously consider acting up if he stopped. What kind of woman were you if you asked him to stop now? Sure, a woman with a moral compass. However, such a thing was discarded by you the first few seconds you entered his car.

Married or not, you didn’t know if there was any kind of woman out there that would resist Ran when he was like this—so attentive, so careful with touching you but gazing at you with predatory-like eyes. You almost felt naked under him even when you weren’t. It was like he saw all of you, inside and out.

And that was when you were beginning to truly be naked under him. Decisive fingers peeling off your leather miniskirt, then hooking under the waistband of your pantyhose to pull it down to your knees.

“Do you trust me?” The question threw you off for a moment, watching him move to sit on his knees on the carseat horizontally and carrying your legs over his shoulders, nearly folding you against the small corner he drove you in.

Your head was practically forced up against the window, back bent forward and legs held by Ran. Your lips quivered subtly, the discomfort adding to your anxiousness. Yet that question of his seemed to stem from that exactly.

With a meek nod, you mumbled a soft yes to assure him. Not a second later he slid his hand down your lifted thighs, rubbing and gently squeezing the inner flesh, cold fingers dangerously close to the apex of your legs. You followed his every move as best as you could, swallowing the lump of nervousness in your throat.

It was almost tantalising, the way he navigated his way down and up your body with such ease, such adoration. If you looked closely enough, you could have seen the gleams of mesmerisation in his violet eyes. And holy fuck, did that turn you on even more, thighs twitching close together with the wet patch on your panties growing bigger.

You could feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of Ran’s lips curling to a smirk. He clearly noticed your arousal, especially so with the view he had of you from that position.

“Ah-ah.. you don’t get to be shy,” Ran warned, hand gripping your thigh tighter to peel them away from each other when you subconsciously started to cross them to hide yourself.

“I’ve been so long for this, darling. So fuckin’ long,” he breathed, impatience evident in the way his gaze alternated between your heaving chest and your fat folds covered by the thing fabric of your panties. Without wasting a moment more, he moved a hand down to your pussy, slipping the long index between your folds, middle finger joining to find your clit with ease, rubbing the sensitive nub up and down in slow motions. You gasped sharply at the sudden pleasure, legs on his shoulders quaking from the stimulation alone.

“So damn soaked for me, baby. Did ya wait for me too?” He cooed, shifting the focus of his slender fingers to your aching slit, gently digging inside through your panties to give you a taste of what was to come.

The soft moans from you was enough to spur him on, half-heartedly fucking you with his fingers through the clothes. It reached a point where the tip of his fingers were soaked in your nectar, all sticky and lubed up to fuck you for real.

Low groans rumbled in his chest with every move he made on your cunt, dipping down your panties until he could feel your walls flutter around with need.

“Need me to fuck you, don’t you darling? Need me balls deep inside you,” you heard him grunt, fingers probing your wet pussy until he wasn’t. He withdrew his fingers, hand moving to his belt instead, unbuckling it to unbutton and unzip his pants with ease.

Ran found it adorable how engrossed you were in the scene of him tugging his pants and boxers downwards to pull out his cock, already hard and throbbing for you.

Bending down to you, Ran had your legs pushed up not from your chest, threatening to squash your tits for the soft jiggle effect he’d drool over.

“Gonna have to relax a bit more, darlin’. I gotta fuck you in the best angle,” he drawled, fastening your legs to his neck and snug on his shoulders. His cologne was borderline intoxicating, the intense scent inducing your lightheadedness.

“‘M not that flexible,” you grumbled, trying to relax your limbs like he said regardless. When you did, he folded your limbs further, adding a little bit of force to reach his desired position. “There ya go, angel,” he murmured just for your ears, earning himself a soft whimper from you.

Not a second later, Ran aligned his cock right up your entrance, the head leaking beads of precum smearing up your folds, pushing his hips forward until he slid up past your entrance. He had you reach up to cling onto his suit jacket, clenching your fingers around his arms while he dug his dick into your depths to the hilt, breath stuck in his throat as if you were choking his throat instead of his cock.

“Holy fuck—feels so fuckin’ good, you feel so good,” he crooned, staying still for a while to let you adjust to the intrusion before he started moving again, pacing it slow at first and subtly progressing to frenzied tempo, hips rocking uncontrollably.

Your lips hung open, eyes darting from Ran’s face to the mess that was your squelching cunt, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass filling the car along with.

“Ran—! Want you cum, cum for me,” you whine, heart hammering in your chest in sync with the seconds he drove his pulsating cock in and out of your gummy walls, the hold he had on your thighs turning desperate as he chased his orgasm, and yours. “Careful what you—fuck-wish for,” Ran stuttered, his arousal amplified with your constant moans and begging, the cramped space thickening the air and tension around your sweat sheened bodies.

“Cum for me, darling—fuck-ngh, cum with me,” he groaned with heavy pants, jaw clenched at the slick feeling of your juices dripped down his shaft to his tense balls, feeling it tighten along with the knot in his lower belly. A few short, frenzied thrusts was all it took for him to finally come undone along with you, your sopping wet pussy clamping down on his heavy cock triggering his orgasm.

Your features scrunched up in pleasure along with Ran, your legs quaking around his shoulders and your toes curled from the feeling of his semen spilling inside you in thick ropes. Ran stayed inside you even after your orgasm, basking in the afterglow with shared breaths and groans.

“I.. hate you,” was all you could breath out at the moment, eyes fluttering and threatening to close with your head rested on the mirror of the car door. Slowly, Ran withdrew his cock from your well-filled cunt, leaving a string of your mixed juices that soon broke to stain your inner thigh.

“Can’t say the same for you, princess..,” Ran chuckled half-heartedly, pulling away and shrugging your legs off his shoulders to lay carelessly on the carseat as he grabbed a tissue to wipe the mess on lingering on your skin.

Your eyes followed the movement of Ran’s hand, watching him clean you up so carefully unlike the roughness he had when he was fucking you earlier. Didn’t even need to glance at your thighs, you knew there were red welts everywhere on them from how much he was clawing onto your flesh desperately.

Silence filled the car for a moment, unspoken words kept deep within yourself as he helped dress you up again, sitting you up properly on the seat and asking if he went too rough on you anywhere.

It wasn’t like he was doting you either. Not too much anyway. He gave you space as much as he gave you his concern, probably aware he crossed some lines that he shouldn’t have. Despite that, Ran being Ran, he wasn’t ashamed, nor did he feel guilty for any of it.

“You know he’ll kill you, right?” your hoarse voice whispered to break the silence, illuminated only by the dim street lights around you.

“Only if he knows.”

“He’s definitely gonna fucking know.”

“He won’t really kill me,” Ran shrugged, stuffing a hand into his pocket to take out a packet of cigarettes, wanting to light one up to take a smoke as if none of it bothered him. And in a way, it really didn’t.

“Ran,” you warned, furrowing your brows and glaring at him in a sideway glance. Your arms folded on chest, head leaning back against the headrest as you turned away and sighed.

“Doesn’t matter. I got the fuck the love of my life—so if he kills me, I’m gonna die with a fucking smile, you hear me?” Ran spoke, his tone of voice clearly set as if he made up his mind when he turned to you, lit up cigarette held between the fingers of his right hand.

“Besides. You sure as hell enjoyed it, hm? Bet you haven’t had an orgasm like that in a while, have you?” he added, hints of teasing lacing his voice with his free hand reaching out to cup your face.

That playful mood of his was short lived when he felt you lean into his hand, eyes fluttering shut. He felt his heart being tugged on.

“You poor thing,” was all you heard him whisper lowly a moment after his lighthearted remark, hand on your cheek moving to the back of your head to pull you into him.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A click echoed in the room and the beeping stopped.

“We got this from the bug we planted in executive Ran’s car, sir.”

A pathetic scoff left Mikey’s lips, his lips curling to a faint smirk before it faded to a straight line again.

The white haired man stared at the voice recording the device laid on the table by one of his men, hands curling to fists as he tried to quell the urge to destroy it—to destroy something.

Except he didn’t. Patience. That was what you taught him.

You taught him patience like it was the best thing in the world, calmness, since he always killed people on sight without hesitation. Mikey tried, for your sake. He worked on more negotiations rather than ordering his executives to go on murder sprees, and one of those negotiations happened tonight at the jazz club.

He thought maybe by now, that he’s got the hang of it. But Mikey doesn’t know if ‘patience’ was good anymore. How was it as ‘good’ as you said, when because of patience, he lost you.

Mikey waited, and waited, and waited for his chance to get closer to you. To open up to you more than the surface level relationship you two had. He wanted to be a real husband to you, to be your lover.

Maybe calmness wasn’t something he should practice anymore. Since you succumbed so easily to what Ran forced on you.

Well, at least you knew he’ll kill Ran.

[thedarkdisgrace]

Ok, follow up post to the original cause I wanted to actually offer my analysis/interpretation on this.

I feel like this is a right/left brain analogy 🧵

Dazai covering his right side, the side supposedly responsible for the emotional & artistic things. It says alot about his mindset, accurate for that time.

It’s intriguing, then, Kouyou covers the “logical” side

I feel like this lends to why Chuuya & Kouyou do get along well. While both Chuuya & Kouyou are no doubt very intelligent (Asagiri literally refers to Chuuya as a genius) they both still lean very much into their emotional side as well. Even if Kouyou seemingly does so less.

Kouyou reveals herself, however, not only in her care for Chuuya but we mainly see it how she handled the situation with Kyoka.

She could have insisted Kyoka come back without ever changing her mind but when Dazai presents her with a way to save Kyoka from dark, she agrees quickly.

Kouyou clearly cares & wanted to help & protect Kyoka even if she went about it poorly. She was trying to help based on her past experiences, lest we forget that she tried to leave the mafia herself once, for *love* no less. She also tends to get emotional when talking about her past or her wish to help Kyoka.

But once she was presented with another solution, a far better one, she didn’t do “what’s best for the mafia”. Kouyou agreed to what was best for Kyoka & that was definitely a more emotional choice.

This is an area where Chuuya & Kouyou align. So, of course they would get along.

Chuuya always seems to find the balance between his logic and emotion. However, he can easily & often does lean more into his emotional side first, then his logical side.

It’s similar for Kouyou, even if we don’t see it as much from her.

Back to Dazai then, when he left the mafia & the cover on Dazai’s “emotional side” was gone Dazai seemed to also move more towards that balancing of the two sides.

He started off heavily relying on his logical brain & struggled emotionally. Often feeling numb or apathetic mostly, hence his suicidal ideation.

Then he meets Chuuya & this shifts. Chuuya forces him to experience new feelings. As Chuuya is a living breathing example of most things Dazai felt the world lacked. It opened Dazai to the idea that there is more to the world, there is more to *people*. Chuuya intrigues Dazai enough to make him want to live a little longer again. Chuuya gave him a reason to keep going, a promise of more.

From the moment he met Chuuya, it was a process of letting more & more emotions seep into his mind & his heart. We see how he feared for Chuuya in 15 even after they just met, even though Dazai *knew* it was a plan.

I might even venture to go as far as to say Dazai may not have feared for someone else’s life that hard before. It was a burst of unrecognizable emotions to him. After this, he only had more & more emotion seep in as the years went by. In Storm Bringer he was ready to sacrifice the city to give Chuuya a choice.

That relationship opened Dazai up to others later, namely Oda & Ango. Which only further encouraged the intermingling of his logical brain and his emotions. Then reaching the point at which the bandages were finally removed entirely and then he, like Chuuya, moved to striving to find the balance rather than relying on one side.

Bringing us back to current Dazai as he is still attempting to find that balance.

He still leans more towards his logical side. This, of course, in contrast to Chuuya who, while intelligent, more easily leans into the emotional.

Yet another thing between them that completes & balances each other. Soukoku will always pull the other back when drifting too far.

So, of course, Soukoku complement each other & it benefits them both.

Having Kouyou on Chuuya’s other side I think also does help Chuuya stay grounded while in the mafia. Chuuya isn’t one to lose who he is but I think having someone else who he knows *cares* like he does helps.

Now, additionally, if we apply this to Beast, I think this also says alot about beast Dazai & why Asagiri says beastzai would be the hardest for someone to portray.

Because *this* Dazai, is perhaps *too* far into his emotional side. He’s always intelligent but in beast, his actions aren’t fully logical, they’re emotional.

He appears cold & calculating as always but he saw another version of himself suffer the great loss of a best friend & allowed his emotional desire to prevent that from happening take control. Thus, his emotional side takes over, thus him covering the opposite side from canon Dazai, he’s covering his “logical” side.

I feel like this is the main difference between all the various Dazai we’ve seen.

PM Dazai relied heavily on his logical side, especially before meeting Chuuya. He rarely took emotion into account unless it involved the 3 people he actually cared for. We see him make emotional choices when it involves Chuuya, Oda, and Ango. Dazai did seem to let more and more emotion seep in over time as a result of knowing them, however, leading to that moment the bandages are removed.

Beastzai is leaning far too heavily into his emotional side, getting lost in it even. Acting solely on an emotional desire rather than a logical one. His desire to prevent a tragedy. He only was using his intellect to further that emotional desire.

Canonzai went through a steady progression, meeting Chuuya starts to open him up, this extending over time to Oda & Ango, leading to the cover on his “emotional” side being taken off.

But beastzai skipped all of that, all the *progression* to that point for canonzai & so beastzai just got all these intense emotions he never experienced before all at once when he saw canonzai’s memories & therefore he sunk far too deep, too quickly into his emotions.

Now current/ADA Dazai is the balance of the two extremes, and seemingly the closest to happiness.

ADA Dazai uses his logical brain as always but he also actually takes emotion into account as well and has more people he actually cares for now.

I think that says alot to the theme of bsd, leaning into that “everything is grey” dynamic. Everything is about the *balance* of things. Showcasing that anything in extremes in either direction doesn’t work.

Anyway, just some thoughts I had and interpretations of mine. Take them as you want, as always.

Oh and just to be clear, I don’t think Dazai was ever “emotionless”, even at his worse. Even if he was numb and apathetic. He was also lonely.

Just saying the more people he came to care about (Chuuya, Oda, Ango then later the ADA) the more he was able to feel a variety of emotion.

My original post:

[pinkberrytea]

If you could breathe, he would be the air in your lungs; if your heart could beat, he would be the lifeblood coursing through your veins.

O, Fitcher’s bird, how com’st thou here? And what may the young bride be doing?

Vanitas—Life is vain. As the true nature of their bond is revealed, the Vampire Ascendant’s Dark Consort is reminded of the futility of swimming against the currents of fate, and must decide whether she shall drown in its river of blood, or let herself be gently carried to the shore.

Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 12.8k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: thank you for reading! I decided to attempt something a little more plot heavy this time, hopefully it is an interesting read! again I would like to dedicate this work to @locallegume and hismostbelovedspawn. thank y’all for being always so kind and supportive!

tags: blood drinking; non-con blood drinking; body worship; light dom/sub; vaginal fingering; creampie; hurt & comfort; emotional sex; dry humping; possessive behavior; intercrural sex; frottage; mind control; aftercare; choking; piv sex

He will notice. He will know.

The metal surface of the key on your hand feels cool against your skin; lifeless and cold, not unlike yourself. As you look down at it, the world dissolves into darkness, a sickening surge of dread welling up from your stomach and running down your spine. Its serrated edge is stained with red—your red. Even if you wipe it, wash it with soap and water, rub it vigorously until all traces of blood are gone, remnants of your scent will linger on it still. Maybe not to the untrained nose, no; but to a vampire, it would most definitely be noticeable, of that you are certain. Your darling is, however, no mere vampire, but the Ascendant, whose consort’s distinctive bouquet he would undoubtedly be able to recognize anywhere, even more so while it is still fresh. There is no escaping your fate, and as that merciless truth dawns on you, you curse yourself for your own foolishness, for your vain stubbornness. Was it worth it? Whatever did you gain from this? Knowledge? For what purpose? To what end? You find answers to none of these questions, and yet another plagues your mind—once the truth is uncovered, what will happen then?

“My lady. The master is home.”

If your inert heart was capable of skipping a beat, it would have done so just now. You turn around in a swift movement, only to be met with a pair of ruby red eyes staring back into your own, their gaze ever so apathetic, unemotional, yet you see a spark of something in them that worries you greatly: cognizance. She knows; the one your darling calls your “lady-in-waiting”, who you are nonetheless very well aware is loyal not to you, but to him, and him alone. She is the only one who remained from the very first batch of spawn he sired, other than you. Shortly after you both moved into what would come to be known as the crimson palace, now his by right following his triumph over his old master, he decided that all the mortal servants who survived were to be turned, for he aspired to make an army of spawn, and where better to start than by turning those who would willingly surrender themselves to him? 

She was one such servant, of course; a human, whose short lifespan would be made inconsequential by the gift of immortality. And yet, as he would soon come to learn, not even the Vampire Ascendant is immune to the dangers of siring those who have yet to prove themselves worthy. One fateful evening, upon walking into one of your fellow spawn trying to force himself on you, he would kill them all in a fit of rage, taking back the gift he had so generously offered only to be repaid with such vile betrayal—all except your lady-in-waiting, whom he had grown to trust, for she was hauntingly fascinated with his eternal adoration of you. As it were, she was the one who warned him of what had been about to happen that night; not out of fondness for you, naturally, but rather as a desperate measure to protect from corruption what she worshiped as the purest form of love, one so raw and so relentless that not even the gods themselves would dare quell its vicious, unforgiving flames. She would not allow anyone to rob you from him, nor anything to stand between you—not even yourself.

“Ah, yes. I’ll be there in a moment,” you say, trying to sound as collected as you possibly can, yet failing miserably at it. The situation you’ve been caught in looks incredibly suspicious as there would otherwise be no reason for you to be in your lover’s study, crouching behind his desk, and both you and your lady-in-waiting are fully aware of this. She can probably smell the scent of your blood, too, as the papercut on your thumb leaks still, a thin red trail running down your hand, smudged on the spot where it came into contact with the object that is now evidence of your misdeed. Neither of you acknowledge this, yet the oppressive silence lingers, perhaps even more unnerving than it would have been if she said something, anything about it. But she doesn’t—in fact, she remains completely still, standing in the doorway and watching you quietly, knowingly, her sharp eyes boring into your jittery self. She doesn’t intend to leave, not without you at least. 

You look at the documents scattered over the desk, and then back at her, almost as if to ask for permission; she doesn’t react to this, which is as good an answer as any. With trembling fingers, you awkwardly gather the papers and put them back inside the open drawer as discreetly as you can, praying that she hasn’t noticed which drawer it is, yet knowing full well she likely has. One paper remains—the one whose rugged edge cut into your flesh, and that which you’d been reading before it spilled your blood and stained the drawer’s key. It is the sole reason why you are even here, stuck in this predicament. 

Earlier in the day, one of the maids had brought a letter that had arrived that morning to your darling while you were both sitting at the breakfast table—a letter addressed to you. You questioned him about it, asked him if you could read it, yet as he’d done with the many others that had arrived before it, he’d lay it aside and tell you, “Dearest, let me spare you the trouble of worrying your pretty little head about such trifling matters.” And as always you’d comply, because you trusted him. Still and all, when hours later he’d inform you he had some urgent business to attend to in the upper city and that he wouldn’t be back for supper, your mind would sneakily wander to thoughts of stealing into his study while he was gone. Could those letters have been sent by your old companions? Those who had once traveled alongside you—those who you had once called friends? It would be easy, so easy to just grab the key to the drawer where he’d toss your correspondence, for you knew he kept it in the pocket of his overcoat, yet you trusted him, did you not? You’d tell yourself you did, and then let the matter rest; for a few minutes at least, before your wandering thoughts would inevitably circle back to the tantalizing prospect of seizing that golden opportunity. You managed to suppress the ever growing temptation for the rest of the day, but when the clock struck nine, that fading last chance became too hard to resist, and curiosity emerged victorious in the fierce battle raging within you.

Your prize now lies before you, for better or for worse, although as you’ve come to find out, and to your utter disappointment, the sender is in fact not any of your old companions. As for the contents—too much information, too little time to process, and you’ve yet to make sense of it all. With a heavy, frustrated sigh, you take one last look before tucking the letter back inside the envelope, eyes lingering on the sender’s initials: 

To the bride of the Vampire Ascendant,

I hope this letter finds you well. As with my others, I don’t expect a response, yet ever so often I feel compelled to write to you on the off chance that the information I share may somehow be of use. I suppose I may have something of a soft spot for you, for I have once been in a position I consider very similar to yours. I would even go so far as to call you kin. Yet as I have done in the past, I would remind you that there will always be a way out. You are not trapped, regardless of what your sire would have you believe. 

Observations I’ve made over the past few years have all but confirmed my thesis that you are indeed no spawn—not of the common variety, anyway—and while I empathize with your unwillingness to put that theory to the test, the evidence leaves little room for interpretation. I understand my… surveillance of you may be unsettling, but I cannot ignore what is to me now clear as day: you do bear three bite marks, do you not? One on your neck, the other on your shoulder, and the last one on your wrist. 

I implore that you think back to your turning: was there pain? Was it agonizing? Terrifying? A spawn’s turning is a terrible, terrible thing. Do you remember the gruesome feeling of all life being drained from your body? Because if not—well, that would be most unusual. Did you partake of your sire’s blood? Not that you’d be able to remember that, of course. The usual turning rite is nothing like what you probably experienced. Three bites, delirious pleasure, drinking from your sire: all hallmarks of a vampiric bride’s creation. The dark kiss, they call it. Has your sire ever compelled you? Surely not. You retain your free will, after all, unlike common spawn. And that is my point: the connection needs not be severed for you to leave. 

If you ever reconsider my offer, our small settlement in Gillian’s Hill would welcome you with open arms. Some of us are also runaway brides, although none are sunwalkers like yourself, of course. Our community would benefit greatly from your presence. Should you decide to join us, just say the word—I will come to you. 

Your friend,

L.I.

The hour of reckoning is upon you.

There he stands, near the entranceway, surrounded by the servants who have come to greet him. He is giving instructions to one of them—you will be hosting another of his infamous soirees soon it seems. Some patriar’s niece has apparently taken a liking to him, puppy love no doubt, an excellent opportunity to make yet another powerful ally. You watch him silently from your position a few feet away, your lady-in-waiting close beside you, and the pit of your stomach tightens every time it seems he is about to turn in your direction. It takes but a few minutes for him to finally acknowledge your presence—his stern gaze immediately softens once he lays eyes on you, the hint of a smile appearing on his lips, and for a moment you almost lose yourself in the gentleness of his expression.

“...Astarion,” you softly say his name, your voice quiet, uncertain. His smile widens as he turns away from the servant and approaches you; the closer he is, the better you can see him, and you can’t help but think of how very handsome he looks in his black waistcoat, embroidered with red spinel gemstones. The overflowing love you feel impossibly warms your chest and causes tears to well up in your eyes at the mere sight of him, yet the creeping guilt haunts you still, impossible to ignore.

“My love,” he coos, bringing his hand to your face and lovingly brushing his fingers against your cheek. You lean into his touch, yet the tenderness is short-lived; with that same hand, he then grabs your neck—his grip firm, but not tight—and leans down to press his mouth to yours while holding you in place. His lips are soft, warm—you close your eyes and try to revel in the comforting feeling of your skin against his, but that too doesn’t last long. He lets you go, smiling still, and tucks a few strands of stray hair that have come undone from your hairdo behind your ear. You look up at him from under thick lashes, trying your best not to lose your composure, yet something in your gaze apparently gives you away. As his eyes meet yours, his smile slowly fades and he raises a brow ever so slightly, puzzled countenance inconspicuous to all but you. 

“My lord, would you have the maids prepare the—oof,” you hear your lady-in-waiting start to say, only to be abruptly cut off as she trips over her own feet and bumps into you. Your body sways with the impact, not enough for you to fall, but with just about the force required for your torso to slightly bend over.

Clang.

All those present turn to the source of the metallic sound in the otherwise quiet room, you included, and upon seeing the object that now lays on the floor, so close it almost comes into contact with the tip of your shoe, the already cold blood in your veins congeals into ice—the key. You had hurriedly cleaned it and stuffed it under your petticoat before leaving the study with your lady-in-waiting in tow so you could later get rid of it while no one was watching, yet it seems that plan is now no longer an option. You press your lips together and slowly turn your head to the side, tentatively glancing at your lover, and what you see causes any remnants of color to drain from your already pale face. Any semblance of joy in his expression has completely vanished as his now darkened eyes glare fixedly at the unassuming piece of metal by your feet. Without uttering a word, he leans down and picks it up. The atmosphere is so thick you could cut it with a knife; no one dares break the foreboding silence, and all you can hear is the now painfully loud ticking of the grandfather clock adorning the grand foyer.

“How… curious,” he finally says, voice low, seemingly calm, yet your trained ear can discern the underlying anger. You gulp uncomfortably and wipe your sweaty hands on the skirt of your house dress, eyes never leaving his face, studying every twitch of his muscles. “Has the key to my drawer created a life of its own, I wonder? There can surely be no other explanation. How else would it have made its way here? Unless of course…” he raises his head to meet your stare, and you instinctively recoil at the seething ire building up underneath his otherwise impassive visage, “it had some help.”

“I…” you stutter, your throat completely dry, causing your voice to crack and come out raspy, so hushed it is barely above a whisper. You turn to your lady-in-waiting, brows knitting together in your desperation, but she doesn’t look back at you, coldly avoiding your gaze. All the other servants watch you silently, apprehensively, exchanging knowing glances. “The—the laundry basket. It could have been thrown in there. Transferred from one pocket to the other…” You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms, and as a surge of blind panic rises within you, wild and unruly, you start feeling nauseous and light-headed, your trembling knees threatening to give out. “If not that, then—I don’t know… I can’t think of any other reason why I’d have it…”

“Oh?” His fury becoming increasingly more difficult to subdue, the flames of anger now lick through Astarion’s eyes; you can see yourself reflected in them, one of the boons he so lovingly extended to you, and despite knowing how lucky you are for having never been required to let go of your own image, staring back at your pathetic, quivering frame makes you wish for a moment you were like the other spawn, with whom he would refuse to share his ascended blessings—yet as soon as the thought crosses your mind, you shun your own petty egotism, for you know how much he has sacrificed—how much you have both sacrificed—to ensure neither you nor him would have to hide in the shadows ever again. “Is that right? I suppose that could be possible. Except,” he scowls, and you feel all hairs on your body stand on end in anticipation for what you predict will come next, “that doesn’t explain why it smells of your blood, of all things. Does it, darling?”

This is it. You always knew it was pointless to come up with excuses, yet you tried to deceive him anyway, foolishly both underestimating and defying the person whom you were supposed to trust the most. Your eyes ashamedly leave his face and you lower your gaze, not bothering to answer—at this point, there is nothing you could say that would avert or deescalate the situation. You’ve made your bed, and now must lie in it. After all this time, after all you’ve been through, to think you’d still betray him, lie to him; it is despicable, indefensible. 

“To the boudoir. Now.” Each word he articulates drips with contempt, the hostility in his voice now undeniable. Your eyes sting as the tears start to form and bead your lashes, blurring your vision. Shame, guilt, fear, regret—the unsightly commingling of emotions comes to a head, making you feel unworthy of even being in his presence.

“I—”

“I was not asking, darling.” He grabs your wrist as he says this, his grasp so strong you’re afraid he may dislocate it. You let out a yelp, and he turns your hand around, exposing the bright red papercut at the base of your thumb, maculating the thin, sensitive skin between it and your palm. It no longer bleeds, but even your enhanced vampiric healing talents have not been enough to allow the still fresh wound to close in the short time that has transpired since it was inflicted upon your flesh. As you anxiously raise your eyes to meet his gaze, your heart sinks at the realization that he is not only furious—he is hurt. He is scared. He is heartbroken. 

“Astarion, please—” you try to say, but he doesn’t let you finish, closing his fingers around your upper arm and forcefully dragging you across the foyer. The servants know well not to follow; they say nothing as you both make your way down the main hall, Astarion’s feet heavily striking the ground with every step, and you treading close behind, stumbling and trying to keep pace with him. You’re unsure what to think, unsure what to feel. While he was always prone to outbursts of anger, you have never before seen him react so viscerally to anything—not like this, not even in his most vulnerable moments. You know him better than you know yourself, maybe even better than he knows himself; in the many years you’ve spent in each other’s arms, you have always been able to read his every expression, decipher his every thought—but this, this you don’t understand. It’s novel, foreign, terrifying. 

“Astarion…” As the two of you turn a corner, finally no longer within the servants’ line of sight, you try to speak once more, fighting back the tears. “Please…” you whimper, your forlorn supplications going unanswered, unheeded, as if never uttered at all. “Please… you’re hurting me…”

As soon as the words leave your lips, he abruptly stops, and you feel his grip on your arm tighten. When he turns around to face you, you cower at the wrath you had never before seen manifest with such intensity in his eyes, and mixed with it, although less discernible, fear—raw, violent and hellacious. His pupils are blown wide, his jaw clenched, and the loud thumping of his heart sounds like an accusation, a condemnation of your wretched selfishness. It now only beats once more because of you; because of your complacence, your foolishness, your blithering, pitiful neediness. You wanted him to love you, feared that he’d leave you, and while telling yourself it was because you wanted him to be happy, you sentenced him to eternal guilt. All the sacrifice, all the hurt… and now you’d turn your back on him? You’d make light of the bond of trust you had so earnestly forged and nourished throughout the years—the only reason why you both live still?

“I am hurting you?” Astarion hisses through his teeth, letting go of your arm only to use that same hand to fiercely grab your throat and shove you onto the sill of a nearby window, forcing you to lean against it in a half-seated position, yet at the same time cradling the back of your head with his other hand to cushion the impact. “You come uninvited into my study, rummage through my things, lie to me about it—yet I’m the one hurting you? Do you even hear yourself?” He straddles you and brings his face close to yours, his nails digging into your neck, squeezing it to the point of slightly choking you. 

“...You—you’re the one who’s lying…” you manage to say between pants and squeaks, for despite having no need to breathe, it is difficult for you to talk or emit any sounds at all with your windpipes crushed under his grasp. “You’ve been lying to me… all this time…” He buries his fingers deeper into your skin, but that doesn’t stop you from finishing, it doesn’t prevent the impending disaster about to strike. “I’m not your spawn… I never was.”

You don’t know what has come over you, but the words are spoken before you can swallow them. Astarion seems as taken aback as you are at your defiance—he looks stunned for a few seconds, yet as soon as he recovers, his eyes narrow and glow with sanguineous intent, a darkness so ghoulish and vile festering deep within them that for a moment, you become genuinely frightened. His hand lets go of your neck to then aggressively pull at the hair on top of your scalp, forcibly tilting your head upwards, and he slams the other on the wall next to the window, entrapping you against it.

“No, darling, you are my spawn. My spawn. Mine. Your body, your mind, your soul, they all belong to me. I’ve made you. You are mine to use however I please,” he growls, spitting each word with viperous malice.

Before you can react to this, or even begin to process what is happening, shock waves are sent through your body in the wake of the lancinating pain that suddenly shoots up your throat as he violently sinks his fangs into the hollow at its base. You let out a soundless gasp and your eyes widen in shock, the tears that had been threatening to fall finally streaming down your cheeks. Him feeding on you is a daily occurrence, something you were supposed to already be entirely used to, but never before had he been so forceful, never before had it hurt this much. He sucks with such vigor and so sloppily that the blood spills from the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin and onto the white fabric of your clothes, speckling them red. His fingers remain tangled in your hair, keeping your head in place as he drinks, and your hairdo partly unravels. You are unable to move, unable to speak, unable to think, even, but not unable to feel: you feel shame, you feel guilt, you feel remorse, for betraying him when trust was the only thing you could ever offer, the only thing that was even left.

“I’m sorry…” you lament, your voice so quiet you are unsure if he is even able to hear you, so you say it one more time. And then another. And you keep repeating it, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much effort it takes to voice each word, you apologize again and again hoping your feelings will somehow reach him, hoping he will somehow understand how ashamed you are of yourself, how regretful you feel, how deeply you love him—and you do, you love him, so profoundly that life to you has no meaning without him by your side. If you could breathe, he would be the air in your lungs; if your heart could beat, he would be the lifeblood coursing through your veins. He is your sire, your darling, your master—he is your everything. In hurting him, you hurt yourself, and in breaking his trust, you destroy the very foundation of your existence. 

I’m sorry. Forgive me. I love you.

As your crimson runs down his throat, Astarion can feel it. Your anguish. Your sorrow. All of it. He can feel them so intensely, that it’s as if your feelings are his own—and they are, for he too feels scared, he too feels ashamed, he too loves you, just as desperately, just as ardently. He is scared of losing you, ashamed of hurting you, and the love you share has ascended to such heights that it needs not be voiced, it needs not be reaffirmed. Nothing terrifies him as much as the idea of being apart from you, and he’d do anything to keep you close; if that implies lying to you, inflicting pain on you, then he’ll gladly embrace the shame, for he never thought himself worthy of your love to begin with. And despite it all, you’d still have him—you’d still join him in immortality, trust him beyond reason, bow down and accept your position below him, for power is all he has ever known, all that has ever mattered, and wielding power over you is his only way of ensuring you will never be taken from him. 

I want you. I need you. Don’t leave me.

The tears you shed fall from your eyes and drip onto Astarion’s face as if wept by him; the sensation brings him back to reality, and as the fog clears, he is relentlessly assailed by the regret welling up within his heart. Finally unlatching his mouth from your neck, he slowly lifts his head up to look into your eyes, releasing his grip on your hair and using the newly freed hand to wipe his lips and chin, which are now smeared with blood—with that same hand, he then cups your cheek, gently brushing his thumb against your skin, and in doing so, painting a red streak across it.

“Forgive me… please forgive me…” you plead between soft sobs, the teardrops uncontrollably pouring and mixing with your crimson. Cupping your cheek still, he uses his other hand to dry the now ruby-colored beads, his caresses ever so tender, ever so gentle. Although the darkness has not entirely faded from his eyes, it is eclipsed by the genuine warmth blooming on their dewy surface. He rests his forehead against yours, sliding his fingers which are now wet from the bloody droplets down your shoulders, gliding them across your ribs, tracing the curve of your waist, your hip. His touches are so incredibly delicate, tentative almost, that it’s as if you were made out of porcelain and applying the slightest amount of pressure would cause you to break into a thousand pieces.

“Shh. It’s over, my love. It’s over.” He is so close to you that his breath tickles your face and his lips graze yours as he speaks, the soothing tone of his voice lulling your frenzied mind. After hesitating for a split second, his wandering digits venture further down, toying with the hemline of your dress, hiking the bloodstained fabric up just enough to expose the waxen skin of your thigh, only to then slip under it. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine, and still unsure what to make of his advances, you let your eyes fall shut, savoring the moment as if waiting for the spell to break, as if the illusion is about to shatter, yet it doesn’t—instead, he finally closes the distance between you, covering your mouth with his and spreading your crimson that still trickles down his jaw all over you both. As you kiss, some of it makes its way onto your tongue, the coppery flavor so very familiar, for your blood is one and the same, and tasting yourself is as if tasting him.

“That's what you want, isn't it? To be mine? Forever?”

His lips never leaving yours, Astarion moves his hand on your cheek to the side of your head so he can run his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face, now damp from your blood only as the tears slowly dry. The hand under your dress finds its way to your backside, splaying across its soft curve and slightly lifting you up from the windowsill, supporting your weight as he leans his body into yours to pin you against the glass. You hold onto his shoulders with both of your hands and wrap your legs around his waist to keep yourself from slipping, bringing him closer and pushing his crotch flush against your stomach; doing so allows you to feel the obvious erection under his pants, which you hadn’t yet noticed was there. While this would be a common effect of feeding under other circumstances, it startles you at first, flusters you almost, yet the reason for his sudden wantonness notwithstanding, even if you can’t fully understand it, what you do know is that the two of you may need this just as urgently—to lose yourselves in lust and hunger, feel each other, be reassured that you are both still here, that you are both still real. 

Letting out a low groan, he starts leisurely rolling his hips, burying the fully hardened bulge between your thighs. No less eager to touch him, you rock your own in rhythm with his movements, to which your body responds more willingly than what either of you would have anticipated, heat pooling in your abdomen and wetness collecting between your folds, some of which soaks through your underpants—the sweet scent of your budding arousal encourages him to keep going, and the fingers of his hand propping up your behind reach out for their waistband, slipping under the lacy fabric and pulling at it. With some effort he is able to get them to slide down a little, but not enough to expose your aching sex; deciding to try a different approach instead, he untangles his other hand from your hair and uses it to pull his own pants down, freeing his already leaking cock. Were this any other day, he would have taken his time teasing you, building you both up to the edge only to pull away at the last minute and start all over again, but not this time. Never before had Astarion’s urgency to take you been this great; never before had he felt like he must make you his as quickly as possible, lest you are forever lost to him.

Lifting up your petticoat to gain access to your still clothed core, he slides his cock under it, your underpants now the only layer separating your flesh from his. You moan against his lips at the sensation, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his warm tongue inside your partially open mouth. As the petticoat falls back down, he has his freed hand join the other, using both to cradle your ass, his long digits groping and fondling the soft skin. While rolling his tongue over yours, he resumes his hip movements, massaging your dripping slit with his length and squeezing even more slick out of you, drenching the fabric that envelops it in your juices; due to the friction and the wetness, the flimsy piece of cloth starts wrinkling and sliding to the side, revealing more of your swollen folds with each thrust. Noticing this, he tilts his pelvis, angling himself to help push it out of the way, and it doesn’t take long before your skin finally comes into contact with his—once it does, you jerk your hands away from his shoulders to then wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and he avidly sucks on your bottom lip, fighting off the urge to sink his fangs into it, drawing even more of your blood.

Wet as you are, he glides effortlessly along your now partially naked mound, gently nudging your twitching entrance with the velvety tip of his cock, only to then back away slowly, spreading your folds apart and massaging the engorged bud atop them as he moves. Although his pace is languid, you can tell by his small grunts that he is growing more desperate, more impatient; once your mouths unweave, a thin string of saliva forming between your bruised, reddened lips, you are unwittingly sucked into the endless vortex of passion and yearning lurking within his crimson irises, his feelings flooding into your own heart as you lock eyes with him. Without you, there is nothing—without you, he is nothing. He offered you eternal life, and in return, you promised him eternal love; you cannot, you will not back away now. Only by feeling you, tasting you, ruining you can he convince himself that you remain within his reach, that you belong to him still. The intensity of his gaze overwhelms you, yet as you turn your head to the side to avoid it, he brings one of his hands up from under your dress and grasps your chin, forcing it back into its previous position.

“Eyes on me, darling,” Astarion says, his voice soft, but his tone firm, commanding; as if under a spell, you obey unquestioningly, staring back at him as intently as you can manage while he grinds against the raw, sensitive skin of your center, sliding along the wetness between your puffed folds and coating his cock in your sticky essence, the lewd squelching noises that ensue echoing in the empty hallway. Now increasing the tempo of his thrusts, he presses his throbbing cockhead harder and harder against your cunt with every jerk of his hips, threatening to stretch its tight borders open only to then pull back, the agonizing anticipation of it setting your nerves on fire. The coiling tension in your abdomen grows tauter by the minute, begging for release, and you can no longer feel the searing pain of the gaping wound on your neck, your mind shamelessly burdened with naught but thoughts of him—of how much you love him, how much you want him, how desperately you need him inside you, buried soul-deep, filling you to the brim. 

His appetites mirror your own, for he too craves nothing more than to have you wrapped around him, ready and primed for him to use however he wishes, for you are his, and that is his prerogative—but first, he would have you come undone, watch as you crumble into nothing at his behest. Without ever breaking eye contact, not wanting to miss a second of your unraveling, he pounds into the outer edges of your entrance with ever increasing furor, dipping his cockhead deeper within it each time, while simultaneously holding back the overwhelming urge to stuff you full in a single thrust. He can tell you are close, so close; as you have not fed since morning, the color of your flushed cheeks is not nearly as bright as it would have otherwise been, but he can still hear it—what little remains of your cold blood rushing through your veins, frantically flowing to your face and cunt, puffing up your skin and painting it a pale pink. 

You’re a vision like this, parted lips reddened with dried blood, half-lidded eyes curtained by long wet lashes, nipples pebbling under the thin chiffon of your bodice; his pretty consort, his sweet spawn, his good girl, so foolishly trusting, so naively kind. When did he lose sight of you? When did your blind devotion turn into treacherous cynicism? When did the desire to bring you to heel consume him, when did the darkness within start to take hold? As these thoughts sweep through his mind, Astarion forfeits all self-control—he needs to feel you, deeper, closer; conquer your soul, dominate your body, devour you whole. He plunges into you without warning, reveling in the feeling of your tight cunt fluttering and contracting around his cock, creaming and coating him in your sweet come, as having him finally buried deep inside you pushes you over the edge of your release. You shut your eyes close and let your head fall back, only for him to firmly grab your jaw and force it up again, intent on having you face him as you dissolve into pleasure.

“Beautiful,” he purrs, the look in his eyes expressing adoration and subjugation in equal measure. “My sweet girl. My good girl.” Holding your jaw still, he slides in and out of your spasming slit without giving you time to recover from your orgasm, and the pain from the overstimulation overlaps with the high of the afterglow—rather than shun the sensation, you welcome it, for its paradoxical nature at once grounds and comforts you; the greater the pain, the more intensely you can feel him, the more entangled your souls become. The fingers of the hand still holding your ass tighten their grip, pushing your hips against his, tilting them to allow his cock to sink as deeply within you as possible. Although he refuses to avert his gaze, looking upon you with bone-chilling fierceness, the sweat beading his forehead and the growing fervor of his lust-ridden expression give away his ascent to his own rapture. To him, there is no greater bliss than feeling you clench around him as he massages your slickened walls, his velvety tip ever so slightly brushing against the spongy skin of your cervix with every thrust. He belongs inside you, and you belong to him; your body is more his than yours, your heart less yours than his.

“All mine,” he grunts between ragged breaths, the thought of you completely submitting to him, letting yourself be ravaged and debauched for his pleasure alone racing through Astarion’s mind as he reaches his climax, spilling himself all over your walls and flooding you with his warm seed. His hand that had been keeping your jaw in place lets go of it to then splay across the side of your face, affectionately caressing your cheek, and he finally lets his eyes wander away from yours, lowering his head to nuzzle into the crook of your neck while basking in his release; yet the moment is short-lived, for once he catches sight of the still bleeding mess right below his nose, two crimson gashes carved on the pale skin of your throat, his mind suddenly freezes and his gorge rises. All his—but at what cost? Was this what you wished for? Was this what he wished for? You agreed to eternity, accepted your share of the burden, became his of your own volition; but doesn’t a toy become useless once it’s broken? Doesn’t love turn into hate once it’s ruined? He knew the time would come when you’d finally see him for who he truly is, when the pathetic, repulsive rot festering under the husk of shallow charm would be laid bare before you, but why now, when he had gathered enough power to offer you the world and everything in it? Was not even that enough to keep you by his side? Feeling you squirm under him, hearing your pained whimpers and tearful pleas—he was not supposed to take joy in any of it, yet his body would betray his mind as he drained you dry. The more you pull away, the more his obsession grows; the more you try to escape, the less you are likely to get away. So why would you reject a fate you had once embraced? Were you his obedient girl no longer? Would you doom yourself, doom your love, let the dam in his living heart burst and the murky waters within consume you, him, and all in their wake?

“I already have everything. Except you by my side.”

You wince as Astarion pulls out of you, the sensitive flesh of your core now red and tender, slathered with his thick come, which runs down your entrance and onto your thighs. Raising his head back up, he brings his face close to yours, tenderly pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth, his hand on your cheek lingering for a moment before making its way downwards, sliding under your petticoat and reaching for the space between your legs. Once his fingers come into contact with your still exposed wetness, you instinctively roll your hips into the long digits, eliciting a faint smile from him; however, rather than indulging you, he grasps the wrinkled fabric of your underpants, so drenched they have stayed put on your groin ever since being pushed there, and smoothens it as best as he can to cover your dripping sex. Planting another kiss on your bloodstained skin and lovingly rubbing his forehead and nose against yours, he uses that same hand to tuck his softening cock back inside his pants; with one last peck on your temple, he then moves his other hand away from its place on your rear to wrap both of his arms around your waist, hoisting you up. No longer pinned against the glass, legs still around his midriff and arms around his neck, you tighten your grip on him to keep yourself from falling, leaning your upper body forward and resting your chin on his shoulder.

“Good girl,” he coos, bringing one of his hands up to cradle your head and affectionately run his fingers through your hair. Backing away from the window, he then turns around and sets off towards the living quarters, all the while carrying you as if you were unable to walk on your own. Not bothering to question his reasons, you close your eyes, intent on enjoying his uncharacteristic gentleness while it lasts and surrendering to the overwhelming allure of his warmth, his scent, his soothing touch and the soft thumping of his heart, which you can feel with your chest flush against his, as if it beats for the two of you. The familiar aegis of his embrace offers solace and protection in equal measure, and for however long he holds you, you feel safe, you feel loved, and nothing else matters—not the guilt, not his darkness, not your selfishness.

“Astarion…” 

You whisper his name as if chanting a mantra, not really for any other purpose than to comfort yourself. The throbbing pain on your neck, the unpleasant sensation of your fluids and his drying on your thighs, the blood all over your face, hair and clothes; somehow, you care about none of it while in his arms, feeling your body rock gently as he moves, the world an endless void behind your shut eyelids. Before the moment ends, it’s just you and him, him and you—no souls weighing down on either of you other than your own, no phantoms from the past lingering in your memory, no outside voices joining in the chorus and challenging your undying love. The voices within remain, however, loud as ever, questioning if you’ve been forgiven, pondering if you’d even deserve it; while he has yet to let go, they have no power over you, but you’re no stranger to the ephemeral nature of his tenderness. Be that as it may, what scares you more than anything are not the loud accusations echoing on the surface, but rather the quiet murmurs rousing in the depths of your heart—those suggesting that time will erode his essence, stripping him off everything but the desire to consume you.

“I’m willing to share all of this with you. What’s that, if not love?”

“Bring me clean towels and lukewarm water. Make it quick.” His voice sounds muffled as you drift in and out of consciousness, and for the first time you notice you can’t feel the tips of your fingers, the blood loss clearly too great a challenge for even your undead body to overcome. The servant whom he is addressing answers something you can’t quite make out, and with a reverent nod, turns away and takes her leave. You slightly open your eyes to get your bearings, and the first thing you see once they adjust to the sudden brightness is the ornately hand-carved frame surrounding the door to your private chambers, its gilded accents glinting in the light of the candelabra, left behind you as Astarion makes his way further inside the room. Upon reaching the grand canopy bed, draped with opulent velvet curtains, he gently lays you down onto the soft mattress, using the hand still tangled in your hair to support your head. The instant you part with his warm touch, the ever constant coldness of death seeps through your skin, its icy tendrils grazing the fringes of your soul; the sudden loss is, however, somewhat subdued when he then circles the bed and sits down by your side, bringing his fingers to your face to glide their soft pads across your brow, studying your features in reflective silence.

“My lord.” No sooner has she left than the servant is back with a pile of plush cotton towels in her arms, one of your handmaidens following close behind, carrying a wooden wash tub that looks far too heavy for her scrawny frame. You prick up your ears at the sound of the familiar voice, and upon discreetly raising your eyes to take a better look at her, you recognize said servant as none other than your lady-in-waiting; it strikes you as no mere coincidence that she’d been waiting for your arrival with the necessary provisions ready, but you decide not to dwell on it. Likewise, there is no effort on her part to acknowledge you as she sets the towels on the eiderdown duvet, gesturing to the handmaiden to put the wash tub down near the bed.

“Leave us,” Astarion says, addressing them both yet not for a moment letting his eyes drift away from yours. Each gives a brief curtsy before doing as told, carefully closing the door behind them on their way out. Once they’re gone, he reaches out for the towel on top of the pile and dips one of its edges in the clear water inside the tub, letting it soak for a few seconds before pulling it back out. Remaining silent and with his gaze fixed upon you, he then brings the now drenched cloth to his own face and rubs it against his mouth and chin, removing the crimson still spattered over his skin with relative ease. You timidly meet his stare from under thick lashes, feeling a bit faint, your limbs heavy and numb from the lack of blood within your veins.

“...Astarion,” you tentatively call for him, your voice so low you wonder for a moment if he is even able to hear you at all; rather than answering you, he places a finger on your lips, hushing you gently. His jaw now rid of stains, he lays the bloodied towel aside and grabs another, soaking it as he did the first, only this time, he presses it to your cheek instead. The damp fabric feels soft and warm against your gelid complexion, and he dabs at it so delicately, so soothingly, that you find yourself leaning into his touch. Your eyelids start threatening to fall shut again, your mind bereft of all thought, but just as you are about to nod off, he starts speaking, snapping you out of your torpor.  

“I never lied to you. Not really.” As the words leave his lips, Astarion’s eyes darken with an intensity you can’t quite make sense of. Deeming your face to be satisfactorily clean, he lowers the towel to massage the pale skin of your throat, letting his gaze wander away from yours to rest upon the grisly puncture marks left by his own fangs. “You are my spawn. My creation. Born from my blood,” he says, the softness in his voice contrasting with the sobriety of his words and the somberness of his expression. After pausing for a moment, not so much out of hesitation as to stall the inevitable, he continues, finally unearthing that which had been hidden for so long with confounding casualness, the revelation likely to have gone by unnoticed if meant for slightly less attentive ears. “My consort—my bride.”

Neither of you utter another word in the minutes that follow. He remains focused on your neck, undoing the top buttons of your bodice to gain better access to it, thus baring your shoulders and collarbone, carefully patting the towel around the ruptured flesh and wiping the encrusted blood off its swollen borders. You, on the other hand, can do anything but focus, unable to process what has just been exposed or the significance of it. Your body is like a doll’s under his; you do not blink, muscles stiffened and chest unmoving, an inanimate object with no will of its own—but you do have a will of your own, do you not? If the letter is to be given any credence to, then wouldn’t the implication be that he let you believe that he could control you when he in fact could not? And if so—what were you to call it then, if not a lie? Did he not trust you to stay? (Had he no trust in your bond?) Was that the source of his fear? (Were you the source of his fear?)

“Is it true, then?” you hear yourself ask, your mouth moving on its own as you let the surge of emotion guide your actions in the absence of coherent thought. “Can you really not compel me? Am I free to do as I please?” Despite the quiet pitch of your voice, and although it trembles ever so faintly, there is a hint of what Astarion can only discern as resentment laced with it. He suddenly stops moving, the now red towel in his hands still pressed against your skin, remaining motionless for a moment before slowly raising his head to lock eyes with you—and there it is again, that raw, visceral dread, only this time masked with a thin veil of arrogance.  

“Oh, sweet thing. Shouldn’t you know it by now?” His lips slightly curl into a humorless smile, voice smooth as silk, yet the words are spoken with deliberate inflection, eerily measured and dangerously sharp. He discards the towel, having it join the other, and casts a predatory gaze upon you, leaning down until the tip of his nose is only inches apart from yours. Bringing both of his hands to your face, he then gently cups your cheeks, fondly caressing them with his thumbs. “I’m the Vampire Ascendant, bound by no such petty rules. That some meddling busybody would underestimate me is not surprising, but I expected more from my good girl.” To your disconcert, although he says this, glimmers of affection peek through the shadows lurking within his eyes. “I’ve spoiled you.” 

You look up at him in confusion, brows lowered and drawn together, trying and yet failing to read his expression. The smile stays on his lips for a moment, but before long, any warmth in his countenance suddenly vanishes. Your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach in anticipation, your body’s primal response signaling the imminent threat, but like a mouse caught in a trap, you are helpless, pinned under him in more ways than one. As you lose yourself in the ruby red pools of his irises, the subtle scent of his cologne, that intoxicating brew of bergamot, rosemary and brandy, grows stronger and more concentrated, filling your nose and wafting down your throat. And then, you feel it—a tingling sensation in your fingers, climbing up your arms, spreading to your ribs and chest. It builds up, intensifies, until it is no longer tingling, but shooting pain, radiating outwards in searing waves. Your every muscle screams in protest, throbbing and burning and aching, but when you try to move your limbs, you find them unresponsive; neither can you open your mouth when you try to scream, not even close your eyes once you feel them brim with tears, which then roll down your temples.

“Ah—ah…!”

“Shh. Don’t fight it, my love. It’ll be over soon.” Astarion says as he softly dries the falling droplets with his thumbs, the words slipping from his pretty lips in dulcet whispers. Once you heed his advice and stop struggling, the pain subsides—you remain, however, a passenger in your own body, unable to do anything but stare into his eyes. Within them, the fear still lingers, but it no longer muddies its bloody waters, suppressed by the confidence now sprouting in their depths; and that’s when you notice that this is to him as much of a novelty as it is to you. Despite his haughtiness, he couldn’t have been sure that it would work, for he had never attempted such a feat before. But alas, any concerns prove now unfounded—you are, and were always his thrall. His puppet bride, subject to his every whim.

“My dark consort. My right hand. My most beloved spawn.”

The compulsion persists for no more than a few minutes, but once he finally loosens his hold on you, it feels as if it’s been hours since last your body was yours to command. With a loud gasp, sucking in the air desperately as if your undead lungs would have any use for it, you are back in control, for what that’s even worth now. Pressing his forehead to yours, he hushes you tenderly, breathing words of comfort as if soothing your unrest after a bad dream. Tears continue pouring from your eyes even as they fall shut, yet the source of your grief is unclear; your mind is, however, in too great a turmoil to allow you to sort out your feelings, so you try to focus on his touch instead, yielding to it as he moves one of his hands from its place on your cheek to lovingly brush your hair away from your face. Regardless, the moment lasts only for so long—once you are no longer as agitated, he pulls away, his expression undecipherable, an uncanny blend of darkness and placidity, dolefulness and sobriety.

“Pay attention, my dear, for this is an offer I will make but once,” he says, the danger in his voice underlying its velvety slickness, reflecting the ambiguous glint in his eyes. As you open your own, you see him take and soak another towel from the pile, which he then brings to your neck to continue removing the dried blood, by now almost completely gone from your skin, yet staining your clothes still. “Freedom. That’s what you wish for, isn’t it?” Smiling bitterly, he undoes the remaining buttons of your bodice, exposing the narrow valley between your breasts, yet his gaze remains drawn to the fresh set of bite marks on your throat; he seems distracted for a moment, but soon enough, his lips continue moving, the tone with which he speaks taking on a deceptively poised quality. “Say the word and I shall unmake our bond. Refuse, and resign to your fate as my eternal spawn.”

Astarion doesn’t look your way even as he tells you this, focusing on the wound still—a manifestation of his inner demons, the sigil of a man who chose to fully embrace the shadows, and whose only remaining light he now tries to dim. Oh, how he wishes the illusion would have lasted forever; you in his arms, eternally his, a bird singing beautifully in its gilded cage. Not clipping your wings was his biggest mistake, for he had always feared that sooner or later, you’d give into the desire to soar high, leave him to waste away, consumed by power and shame. So now he opens the cage himself, before you lose your voice, before the song is silenced. He wants to see it, he needs to see it—hear your denial, feel your rejection, taste your betrayal. Whether he means what he says is inconsequential, for he himself knows not the answer to that; his wish is but to have you confirm what he already understands to be true, so that he may finally snuff out that trembling flame and surrender to lonesome oblivion.

Your answer to him is, however, nothing but silence; having by now wiped most of the stains off your neck area, he straightens his torso, and his eyes finally make their way back to yours—which, to his astonishment, are not only misty and glistening with the tears still pooling in their corners and flowing down your cheeks, but wide and unblinking, unrelenting terror etched across your face. Terror? Why terror? No, no, this makes no sense. Is he to believe you’re crying tears of happiness? Could these be complicated feelings surfacing now that you’ve finally been given that which you’d always wished for? Freedom—that is what you wish for, surely? He never doubted your love, for he could feel it just as you could feel his, but he did question whether just love would be enough to keep you by his side, whether even a love as real as yours would stand the test of time. Never had he been able to understand your love for him, but he knew it to be true, and he would protect it in whatever way he could; as the Ascendant, there was very little he could not do, thus taking away your freedom was the obvious course of action. And yet, now that he offers it back, you react not with relief or gratitude, but terror?

“I would sooner die again,” you finally say, voice quiet and strained, raw emotion pouring from your every word. Astarion stares at you in complete shock, frozen in place, and time seems to come to a standstill while each of you wait for the other to break the silence. As he disconcertedly studies your face, trying to make sense of your unexpected fretfulness, a realization dawns on him—are you perhaps afraid of spending eternity by yourself? Is it not his promise of making you into a full vampire, independent of its creator, but rather the prospect of total separation that upsets you so? That must be it, that has to be it—why else would the offer of freedom, that which has always driven him, the ultimate goal, sound so appalling to your ears? Although it is no less surprising that you wouldn’t use your newfound autonomy to turn your back on him at the first opportunity, as far as his proposal is concerned, this is but a misunderstanding; he should clarify, then.

“You—”

Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.

Your words ring in Astarion’s ears as if spoken by you, yet your quivering lips remain sealed. Hah! How quaint, that such an ability would manifest now. As your thoughts flow from you to him, he notices you don’t seem to be aware that you are speaking into his mind. Of course not, why would you? He had kept the nature of your bond a secret, and thus, your mental connection was too concealed. Oftentime you’d unwittingly let your inner voice seep into his head, but never had you noticed, and never had he brought it to your attention. It feels invasive, peeking into your heart when you haven’t let him in, but he can’t help himself, for he needs to know; he needs to be certain that this is what you want, that this is the fate you’ve chosen, no matter how grim, no matter how hopeless.  

I promise I’ll be good. I need you. Please.

Raising your upper body into a seated position, you reach out for his arm, and your fingers tentatively grasp at the sleeve of his shirt. You can’t bring yourself to voice your feelings, yet you hope that the earnestness in your tear-filled eyes somehow is enough to convince him of your sincerity, for the thought alone of having your souls ripped asunder horrifies you. You had accepted your circumstances once, and you’d do so again—bearing the guilt and remaining his spawn for the rest of your days is too low a price to pay for his freedom, for his life, for him. All for him. It always was, it always will be. You failed him once; not again. Never again. For however long he’ll have you, you’ll remain by his side, pay your penance, atone for your sins, love him with all of you, body, mind and soul, until there’s nothing left but dust and blood. 

As the confusion in his eyes gives way to gentle warmth, Astarion brings one of his hands to your face, tenderly cradling it and brushing his long fingers against the damp skin. After letting go of the towel which he had been holding still, he leans forward, pausing for a moment to meet your weepy gaze before pressing his pillowy lips to yours, and relief washes over you like a balm. You relax your muscles which you hadn’t noticed were tensed until now, and although you have yet to stop crying, the salty droplets are no longer an expression of fear and regret, but of succor and deliverance. Timidly starting with a sequence of soft, chaste pecks, the kiss gradually becomes more sensual, more passionate, and soon you feel his tongue flick at your bottom lip, asking for passage. Once you comply, he begins eagerly exploring the inside of your mouth, the digits of his other hand running through your hair as he tastes you, unweaving what still remains of your hairdo and letting the tresses fall over your shoulders. Longing to be as close to him as physically possible, you tighten your grip on his sleeve, lovingly nuzzling your nose and cheeks against his, and in doing so, making them wet with your tears. 

Kissing you still, he untangles his fingers from your now freed locks and splays his hand across the small of your back, using his body weight to gently pin you down until you are both lying on the mattress, him on top of you. The hand on your cheek leaves it to reach for the last towel in the pile, which he then blindly soaks in the water remaining within the wash tub; your skin now completely rid of bloodstains, he sticks it under your petticoat instead, bringing it to your groin and tugging at your underpants with one of his digits. This time successfully managing to get them to slide down enough to gain access to your wetness, he delicately presses the soaked cloth to it, eliciting a soft mewl from you. All the while massaging your mouth with his, he rubs the towel up and down the still tender flesh of your sex, thus removing the remnants of earlier activities, yet at the same time nudging your slowly swelling clit with every stroke. Feeling the familiar tautness building up low in your belly, you roll your hips into his hand, squeezing your thighs together and clenching them around his arm, any pretenses of playing coy completely discarded as you helplessly plead for his touch.

Rather than mess around with you like he would on any other occasion, Astarion yields, and as two of his fingers feel up and circle the now twitching bundle of nerves through the wet fabric, another slides further down and rims your slickened entrance. You wantonly whimper against his lips, wrapping both of your arms around his neck, and his hand on your back makes its way to the front of your torso to unfasten the lacing keeping your unbuttoned bodice in place, thus revealing your breasts and stomach. As soon as they come into view, his skilled digits quickly find one of your hardened nipples, pinching and playing with the swollen nub as his tongue continues hungrily swirling around yours and his hand between your legs fondles your aching arousal, coaxing pants and all sorts of cute noises out of you.

“Sing for me, little bird,” he breaks the kiss to purr the words in your ear, fangs gently grazing your earlobe. You readily do as told, moaning and whining with your drying eyes closed, teardrops no longer escaping through your long lashes, and his face creases into a smuggish smile as he watches you writhe and squirm. Once he withdraws both of his hands, you let out a displeased sigh, in response to which his smile widens; finally tossing aside the towel, he then leans back to finish undressing you, and as you help him peel off both your dress and undergarments, you suddenly notice neither of you are wearing shoes, though you can’t recall at which point they were lost. Tucking a hand inside his own pants, he pulls out his cock, still partially soft but rapidly hardening again, yet there seems to be no intention on his part of removing the rest of his clothes, a fact which neither of you seem to mind—if he would rather have you naked and exposed before him, then so be it; if he finds strength in your vulnerability, then you won’t deny it to him, for his comfort is your atonement, even if it costs you your dignity.

“You wouldn't just be some spawn—you’re far more than that to me.”

“Come, pretty vampling,” Astarion beckons, intertwining his fingers with yours and helping you rise to his level. Once you are both sitting up and facing each other, he tenderly kisses the back of your hand, letting go of it to then wrap his strong arms around your waist and pull your chest flush against his, squishing your soft breasts between your bodies. After planting a loving peck on your brow and affectionately rubbing your noses together, he then slightly cocks his head to the side, exposing the smooth skin of his neck, marked only by two shallow indentations, so similar, yet so different from your own. It takes you no more than that to realize what he means, and you gingerly press your mouth to a blue artery pulsating right under his jawline, looking up at him demurely with lamblike eyes, as if waiting for his approval. With an affable simper, he brings one of his hands up to cradle the back of your scalp, which you understand as an assent; parting your rosy lips, you thus brush your fangs against the throbbing vein, only to then sink them into the sensitive flesh, as gently and carefully as possible. He groans at the sensation, not from pain, but pleasure, and you feel him lightly tug at your hair.

His blood tastes rich and angular on your tongue, and your hazy mind slowly clears as the thick crimson starts spreading to your extremities. You suck so delicately that he can barely feel your fangs piercing his neck—instead, he feels the plushness of your lips, the softness of your curves, the heat irradiating from your cold pale skin as it turns warm and flushed. He hugs you tighter, yearning to have you pressed even closer against him, letting out low grunts and quiet moans as you drink, his cock now fully hardened into an angry, painful erection. Bringing both of his hands down to your ass, he firmly squeezes your buttocks and slightly lifts up your body to sit you on his lap; following his lead, you position yourself while feeding still, bending your knees to support your weight on them and lining up your entrance with his leaking tip. However, instead of immediately lowering your hips, you start languidly rocking them back and forth, burying the engorged cockhead between your folds and coating it in your juices.

“Oh, you cheeky brat…” he says, yet the playful tone of his voice encourages you to keep going, even if from your position you can’t see the matching expression on his face, eyes closed and a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Gods, you feel good…” His fingers press down harder on the supple skin of your behind, and his crimson takes on a sweeter flavor the more aroused he becomes; as it flows to your center, your rouged clit too grows tumescent with desire, slick dripping from your needy cunt. Setting an agonizingly sensual pace to your rhythmic movements, you bring your hands up to rest on his shoulders, a trail of red escaping from your lips and running down your chin. You can feel his cockhead twitching madly as you engulf it in your wet heat, hungering for the tightness of your walls, but the blood high emboldens you, and you continue stubbornly refusing to give in, even if you want nothing more than to have him stuff you full.

Astarion has, however, only so much patience, and being on the receiving end of teasing doesn’t sit well with him; once he feels the tip of his cock nudge the borders of your slit, he tightens his grip on your ass and yanks your body down, stretching your entrance open and sinking you to about half of his length. You unlatch your mouth from his neck and yelp in surprise, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, but before you can say anything, he crashes his lips into yours, lapping at the blood staining them red. While you kiss, he gives you time to adjust, and his hands move up to your waist, his touch at once firm and gentle. Despite the pain of the sudden intrusion, being filled with him is pure bliss, and as your walls accommodate his size, you start almost imperceptibly undulating your hips, although the slight friction serves only to fan the flames of your desire. Upon taking notice of your shy grinding, he eggs you on, pulling you downwards with only about enough force to encourage you to follow suit. Not willing to hold back any longer, you eagerly comply, lowering your rear until you are fully seated on him, buttocks pressed against his thighs. Stifling a groan, he nips at your bottom lip and sucks on the ruby droplets seeping from the small lesion, your taste indistinguishable from his own. If you’d give yourself to him, then he shall unapologetically take that which he is owed; from the marrow in your bones to the crimson flowing through your veins, you are wholly his to consume.

“You're the one that I want—the one that I love.”

“Hnng—Astarion…” you moan his name as your mouths come apart, so sweetly that it stirs up in him the urge to again sink his fangs into your flesh. Yet he doesn’t; instead, he bucks his hips upwards, prodding your cervix with his cockhead, and an amused glint appears in his eyes as you react with a high-pitched squeal. Trying to hide the blush spreading across your face, you lean forward, resting your chin on the curve between his neck and shoulder, warm cheek pressed to his, and biting back a whimper, you timidly start sliding yourself up and down his cock. With your ear so close to his mouth, you can hear the soft grunts and shallow pants slipping from his lips whenever he disappears into you, the lewdness of it setting ablaze the waves of fire seething under your skin. Your leisure gait doesn’t last long, and you ride him more energetically with each bob of your body, which he reciprocates by burying his fingers deeper into your waist and pulling you down harder, feeling the pert nubs of your plump breasts brush against his chest as they bounce.

“You’re doing so well, little love,” Astarion says while peppering kisses across the delicate skin of your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. You can feel him pulsing inside you, bulging veins vibrating against your gummy walls as they are distended to their limit the stiffer he becomes. “Such a good pup for me, taking me so nicely,” he coos, bringing one of his hands to your navel, gliding the pads of his digits along the soft curve of your stomach and towards the ache throbbing in your crotch, where he then grasps your flushed clit between two deft fingers, massaging the tender knot with seasoned adroitness. The sound of smacking flesh grows louder as he pushes against your hips with his own, and you sink down his cock with greater abandon the more you approach the peak of ecstasy, your body glistening with sweat and burning red with his crimson. 

“Ah! I’m—close…” you stutter, your voice trembling as you work your thigh muscles with even greater ardor, letting go of his shoulders to lean back on your outstretched palms. With the fingers of his hand wedged between your legs, he continues stroking the rose-pink bud crowning your mound, moving the other from its place on your waist to gently squeeze one of your breasts, teasing the puckered nipple with his thumb. While watching you lose yourself in the rising crescendo of your release, he accidentally lets his gaze wander to the wound on your throat; promptly averting it, he chooses to focus instead on the luscious expression etched on your pretty face, his lifeblood blooming under your cheeks and nose—the moment you lock eyes with him, the tension finally snaps, and you buckle your elbows as your arms go limp, walls spasming around him and creamy pearls of come leaking from your stretched entrance.  

Spellbound by your cock-drunk image, Astarion pushes you down on the bed without warning, and cradling your face with both of his hands, pulls you into a lustful kiss, forcing your mouth open with his tongue. Still high off your climax, you don’t resist, obediently parting your lips, arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his waist. Shoving his thighs against the back of yours, he bends them into a mating press, and wasting no time, starts ferociously thrusting deep into you, setting a brutal pace; your walls contract and twitch around his enlarged girth, the ripples of your orgasm yet to peter out, making vulgar sucking noises as you swallow him whole. He moans into the kiss with every roll of his hips, blood buzzing in his ears and heart pounding violently inside his chest, fucking you greedily, indulgently, minding his own pleasure and naught else. Your body sways weightlessly like a ragdoll’s each time the base of his cock strikes your groin, but you care not about his rough treatment of you, for nothing brings you greater elation than knowing you can make him feel this way.

“So tight…” he growls with his mouth still pressed against yours, his voice muffled and breathy. Propping his torso up with one of his arms, he brings the hand of the other to your throat, squeezing it firmly, and pulls away to admire his handiwork, a dark intensity blazing within his eyes. “Oh, darling, you look so precious with my fingers around your neck.” His silvery curls fall over his brow as he says this, tousled and dripping with sweat, his appearance at once statuesque and animalistic. He ruts into you in a disorderly fray, his movements messy and sloppy as they usually are in the short moments preceding the culmination of his desire, and with one last powerful thrust, he empties himself inside your fucked out cunt, feeling your fluttering walls clench around him, milking him to the last drop.

“Sweet gods…” Slumping down on top of you, he embraces your sore body and buries his face in your hair, taking in your scent as his cock continues convulsing inside your raw, tender slit, hardened still. Filled with him and his seed, nestled in his arms, you feel comfortably full, warm, safe. Your eyes fall shut, tiredness suddenly overtaking your weary mind, and although erratic thoughts run through it, you hold onto none of them, deciding to just for today, just for this night, turn a blind eye to all implications, all the ill omens, and let yourself be; be by his side, be his spawn, be his bride forever more. 

As you drift off into a dreamless sleep, lulled by the gentle sound of his heartbeat, oblivion tenderly cradles you against its merciful bosom, and the clarity of the precipice of unconsciousness rips your burdens from your soul and makes your every worry seem so futile, so meaningless. Your fate is inevitable, as certain as death itself, and following the precepts of life is a vain undertaking, for they are not the same as those ruling over undeath. Astarion knows this; so should you. Existence is transient, but his dark love is everlasting.

There is a light in every living thing.  It’s crawling t’wards the surface to survive. And in its wake, it tramples everything. We’ll kill the rest, so that the one can thrive.

[yanderes-galore]

Romantic Light Yagami concept/short where he and Darling were childhood friends, and Darling notices something is off about him (due to him being Kira and all) and gets suspicious/maybe confronts him?

I like this idea...! Hope it came out well! The plot was a struggle at first but I think I got it!

Mannerisms

Yandere! Light Yagami Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Death mention, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Gaslighting, Threats, Emotional blackmail, Consensual turned forced relationship.

You've known Light for years. You didn't think anyone else besides his family knew him as well as you did. After all, you've both been childhood friends since elementary.

Even now you're close... you've been dating since you were highschool juniors.

You remember Light as compassionate with a sense of justice in childhood, no doubt due to his father being a police officer. Through school he's always been the top student... he's always been the most popular. Despite this, he still stuck by you as your best friend and boyfriend later on.

Due to you two being close, you just seemed to know when something was wrong with him. If anyone could read him, it was usually you. You care for him... you love each other...

Which is why you began to grow concerned when Light's attitude changed.

Light began to grow cold towards others. He acts like those around him aren't worthy of his attention, yet you can tell he's hiding it. He's... definitely changed towards others.

Yet Light always seems to be the same compassionate person with you... always sincere despite lying to everyone else.

You're the only one worth his time in his eyes.

This behavior only started when you were both seniors in high school. It was such a... subtle yet sudden change. Just enough for you to notice.

You originally assumed that the stress of high school finals was getting to him. Perhaps that would make him push others away...? He did want to go to that University for Criminal Justice.

But something kept nagging you. You just couldn't forget the glare he kept giving others around you. You couldn't ignore the apathy he held towards the recent Kira murders.

For someone you once knew as compassionate... you could tell he had no concern for anyone except his family and you.

Even in University you two are still attached to the hip. Light insisted on keeping the relationship going as he studies. Despite your worries, you still love him and hope he gets better.

He doesn't... in fact...

He seems worse as time goes on.

You aren't blind when you see how Light acts around you. Sure, he acts very caring and affectionate with you... but you're skeptical of if he's genuine or not. Plus, that's if it's just you two....

Light always seems to stare at his TV screen when the news comes on, the news rambling about the latest set of Kira murders. When you two go on outings to take a break, Light's grip is tight around your waist. When you hang out with friends...

They always seem to disappear and end up on the news.

The moment you noticed your friends going missing and dying on TV... you had your assumptions. It felt too... planned. Even more so when Light would comfort you with rough kisses on your neck while you attempt to grieve.

"It's okay... I'll protect you..." You remember him murmuring to you as he turns you away from the TV, holding you in his arms as he kisses you.

Light's apathetic and arrogant attitude was merely another hint. But the fate of your friends felt like a smoking gun. Such thoughts made you look into the Kira killings...

The answers you found made you dread being around your boyfriend when you put things together.

But you still felt you should confront him to confirm your suspicions

Light should've known you'd catch on. He knew you were clever and smart. He was better... but he should've known you'd be perceptive due to you both knowing each other for years.

Light cursed himself, knowing he should've hid the murders of your friends better. They weren't heart attacks, but you still picked it up. No doubt because it always happened after you hung out with them.

He let his emotions go unchecked. Out of jealousy he had written their names in the Death Note. Now you suspected him as Kira...

Yet... he calms himself... so what if you know?

You can't do anything about it with him around.

The moment you walked up to him in his dorm room, Light knew what you were planning by the glint in your eyes. Like you could with him, he was able to read you as well. He clenched his fists when you stood in front of him... you're nervous...

It's actually quite cute.

"Light... may we talk...?" You ask, your voice betraying you and revealing your nervous attitude.

"Of course, love..." Light grins, pulling you into his arms. He works his charm on you, lightly caressing your back. "What is it you need?"

"Could you be honest with me?" You ask, seeing Light's eyes darken for a moment.

"I'm always honest, baby...." Light murmurs, kissing the top of your head. He's trying to distract you with his affection and you know it.

"Then are you Kira?" You push yourself to say.

There's a long pause after your accusation. Light's silent, the only confirmation that he heard you being his grip tightening around you. His arms remain wrapped around you like snakes.

"Light..." You ask again, watching his glaring gaze. "Did you kill my friends...? Did you kill all those people...? How did-"

"You ask too many questions, love...." Light sighs, tilting your head up. "Why would I do such a thing? Do you think I'm capable of murder?"

You stare at each other, you can tell Light's hiding a smirk. You know he's lying. But Light still thinks he can convince you otherwise.

"Please, Light... I just want answers-" You plead, even if you were going to hate the outcome. "Did you kill them?"

Light doesn't seem like he wants to answer for a moment, frowning deeply before continuing.

"Oh, love... it's nothing to worry your pretty little head about." Light coos, kissing your cheek while keeping a tight grip on your chin. "Regardless of what I did I'll never hurt you...."

"So you did kill them..." You whisper, nervous. "You're Kira-"

"Sure, I'm Kira." Light shrugs. "I don't even care if you know anymore, because I know you won't tell a soul, baby."

"What makes you so sure I won't?" You ask, only for Light to lean down into your ear.

"You love me too much... that or you're scared of me..." Light chuckles, rubbing your back. "You know only trouble will come from reporting me, don't you, love? I could go after your family... or maybe even frame you..."

Light then leans closer, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Or maybe I'll kill you to keep you to myself?"

His words send a shiver down your spine. Light merely looks amused at your fear. As usual, he read you right, you were scared of him.

"But sweetheart... we can look past this, can't we?" Light hums, rubbing your chin absentmindedly. "You know I only have secrets to keep you safe... we can continue dating..."

Light leans in, breath ghosting over your lips as he chuckles.

"You can continue to be mine... all you have to do is keep your mouth shut and stay by my side...."

"You're a psychopath..." You growl, causing Light to narrow his eyes.

"Really now...? Is me getting rid of criminals psychopathic?" Light frowns, looking you in the eyes. You push him away, but he just moves his grip to your waist.

"You killed my friends... for what!? They didn't do anything wrong!" You point out, only for Light to sigh.

"Baby... they did do something wrong." Light retorts before snaking a hand to the back of your head. You go to fight him but he pulls your face closer.

"They were trying to take you away from me..." Light grumbles, watching your anger with amused irritation. "They had to go, love... They would ruin everything if they knew the truth."

"I wouldn't tell them a thing...!" You try to say before Light kisses your lips, stunning you.

"Doesn't matter, honestly." Light sighs between his kisses. "You're mine all the same..."

His grip feels like a vice around you. You can't struggle against him. The threat of him killing you echoes in your mind... forcing you to play along as his partner.

"You won't tell anyone about Kira, will you?" Light asks, his tone threatening as he pulls away for a moment. There's only one answer...

"I won't tell anyone...." You agree, causing Light to smile.

"It's good to know you know what side you're on..." Light murmurs, "Even if you didn't... you'd always be mine one way or another."

With that, he resumes his kisses...

A planned distraction to keep you wrapped around his finger.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 2: NCT bias wrecker - Jaehyun✨️

In the a.m.

AN: I was originally planning to post another fic today but, it got too frustrating so, I scrapped it for another day. Fortunately, my brain seems to have plenty of ideas when it comes to Jaehyun. Also, yay to the first NCT fic on the blog :D

Synopsis: Some harmless scrolling on Instagram takes a turn you could've never seen coming.

Heads up: Jeong Jaehyun x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers, Reader going through it because of her feelings for Jaehyun, Reader mentions wanting Jaehyun to choke her one time, Jaehyun being a little shit, mentions of facesitting, dirty talk, video call sex, guided masturbation of sorts (f. receiving), mutual masturbation, praise kink (f. receiving) and Jaehyun calls Reader pet names a lot throughout this.

Word count: 2989

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You don't expect much when you open Instagram.

It's been a relatively uneventful Tuesday night, all things considered. Your laptop sits on your desk, reminding you that you very much have work you should be attending to, but you try your best not to pay it any mind.

Your mindless scrolling comes to a halt when you notice a post from Jaehyun.

It's honestly embarrassing how much just seeing him affects you. Your heart stuttering in your chest as you take in his carefully dishevelled, dark hair and his handsome, almost apathetic expression. You're probably reading more into a singular picture than strictly necessary, but the way his face is angled makes it look like he's looking down at you, and that only causes you to spiral further. Insides squirming violently.

It definitely doesn't help that you wish his hand was around your throat inside of his phone, too.

You're honestly just speechless. You knew you were really looking for ways to procrastinate if you resorted to Instagram of all platforms but, it's a blessing in disguise since you were graced with this.

However, because you're an idiot and you weren't careful, you like the post without thinking. A post he made months ago.

Would it be too much to hope for the Earth to open up right now and swallow you whole?

Panic takes over then. Maybe you could just uninstall Instagram, and he wouldn't notice or get the notification. Maybe you could just unlike it really quickly and he'd never even know-

Luck is not on your side, however, because you notice a message from Jaehyun, and you've never wanted to cease to exist more than right now.

Maybe you could just pretend you magically passed out seconds after liking his post. That wouldn't seem too suspicious, would it?

However, because you're still an idiot and a curious one at that, you open his message.

Jae💕: See something you like?

The fucking nerve of this man. You resent the way your body betrays you. Your face heating up considerably as you just try to comprehend what the fuck is happening. Is he...flirting with you? It wouldn't be the first time. Jaehyun enjoys flustering you, and it works more often than you care to admit. However, flirting with you when you're pretty sure it's around 3 a.m. in Tokyo seems like a little much, even for him.

You: Shouldn't you be asleep? Isn't it like 3.am. there?

Jae💕: Couldn't sleep. Then I got the notification that you liked my post. Isn't it pretty late over there too?

You groan into your pillow. Jaehyun doesn't need to know about you lusting after him so late at night.

You: Yeah, I was doing some work but, I'm pretty much finished for the night.

Jae💕: And you were thinking about me after finishing your work? I'm flattered, baby

Jaehyun has called you baby before. It's nothing new. Honestly, the pet name would make you cringe if anyone else was saying it, but, as you're coming to discover, apparently anything and everything he says and does renders you a flustered mess.

You: No! I was just scrolling, and I accidentally liked it. Don't flatter yourself

Jae💕: Sounds like denial to me~

You: You're so annoying 🙄

What you don't anticipate, on this already fever dream of a night, is for your phone screen to light up with his name. You only hesitate for a few moments before answering.

"I'm annoying, huh? That hurts my feelings," he teases. You can hear the smile in his voice, and the mental image of his dimples hits you like a truck. Though he said he couldn't sleep, his voice sounds gravelly and, you feel yourself squirm instinctively.

"Something tells me your feelings aren't all that hurt," you retort, hoping against hope he doesn't notice the breathy edge to your voice. Talking to Jaehyun always left you feeling a little lightheaded.

"Now you're calling me a liar too? I was being serious earlier. I am extremely flattered that I was running through that pretty mind of yours,"

Yeah, you're definitely going to uninstall Instagram after tonight. You don't even want to begin to unpack him calling anything about you pretty.

With a heavy sigh, you respond, "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Nope," and he has the nerve to chuckle.

"You really are so annoying. You're lucky I like you and you're cute,"

You were wrong. Now, you've never wanted to cease to exist more. Why in the fuck would you ever say that? Especially tonight? Yeah, sure, some harmless flirting isn't out of the norm between the two of you, but tonight feels decidedly...different. You can't help but feel you're treading a very dangerous line here.

You're half-tempted to just hang up before he responds, "You like me and think I'm cute, huh? If you wanted to ask me out, you could've just said that."

"That's not- I wasn't trying to- I didn't mean to say that,"

"You don't have to get all shy, baby. If anything, the feelings are very much mutual,"

That stops all your higher order functions all together momentarily. What. Jaehyun likes you? Is this actually happening?

"W-what?" Your brain intelligible supplies.

"You really think I just call everyone baby and flirt with them. I'm a little surprised it took you so long to catch on,"

Now that you think about it, he has always treated you...differently compared to your other friends. Johnny and Mark had teased you about it from time to time, but you always thought they were just being little shits. Guess you should learn to take your friends' word more seriously moving forward.

"You could've just been direct with me,"

"Where's the fun in that?" He laughs, but his tone shifts to a more serious one, "I wasn't sure if you felt the same way. I know I joke, and I tease, but you-you mean a lot to me, and I didn't want to jeopardise the friendship we had. I was content to have you in any way you wanted me, even if it was just as your friend."

You were reeling. You couldn't respond to him even if you wanted to for a few seconds. Your brain trying to pull itself together enough to say something.

"You know, this isn't how I was expecting my Tuesday night to go,"

His laugh is warm and throaty and quiet, and all the months of pining finally boil over.

"In case it's unclear, I like you too. Like a lot. Um, yeah,"

"Well that's a relief. I was worried there for a sec," god, you wish you could see his face. You know he's probably grinning ear to ear. Well, you could...

"Jae?"

"Hmm?"

"Could we video call instead?"

"Sure but, do you mind me asking why?"

"I want to see your face,"

You're sure that'll inflate his ego for weeks to come, but you can't bring yourself to care.

You're already proven correct when you see him with the world's largest shit-eating grin and the butterflies in your stomach flutter more violently.

His hair is even more dishevelled than in the picture, and you can see his sleeping shirt cling to his shoulders in a way that heats the blood in your veins.

"Here I am, baby. It's nice to see you too, if I'm being honest," it only hits you when his usually mischievous eyes are heavy with something else entirely as he takes in the sight of you on his screen what you're wearing.

"You're such a perv. I was trying to be sweet,"

"I'm being sweet too! I just have eyes. Also, I saw that look in your eyes. Don't play coy with me,"

"I have no idea what you're talking about,"

"Really?" His grin takes on a more sinister edge, "because I definitely noticed you looking like you wanted to sit on my face as soon as I popped up on your screen."

You're sure you look stupid with how you're gapping at him. Too stunned to speak and your body, once again, betrays you when you feel yourself clench at his words.

He's not wrong but, he doesn't need to just say it like that.

"You can't just say stuff like that, Jaehyun," you whine, and you see his eyes flash so briefly you're wondering if you imagined it.

"Why not? We both know it's true. It's just unfortunate that I'm not there right now to give you what you so obviously want," he drawls, lidded eyes dropping to take in as much of your generous cleavage as he can.

The butterflies shift lower.

"You'd let me sit on your face?" Maybe you're finally learning to just embrace the unexpectedness of this night. You two like and obviously want each other. Fuck it.

He chuckles again, but his voice is already a few octaves deeper, and you feel yourself growing slick. Thighs rubbing together in a way you hope is some level of unnoticeable.

"Happily. I'd do a lot of things to you if you'd let me,"

You're finding it really hard to think straight right now.

"Really? Like what?" You're too far gone for him to even feel ashamed how delicate your voice already sounds.

"And you were calling me a perv earlier," You're not sure if you want to punch him for attractive that arrogant, dimpled smirk of his is or kiss him. God, you really wish he was here too.

He continues before you can butt in, "Well, I'd take my time with you." Your blood feels molten as his lidded gaze takes in every detail of your face, stopping briefly to stare at your lips, "I'd kiss you until your lips were bruised and all you could think about was me."

This time, Jaehyun notices you squirming, and he pounces.

"Aw, is my poor baby already getting all hot and bothered just from me talking about kissing you and letting you sit on my face?"

A desperate whine tumbles out of your mouth before you can help yourself. Between him calling you his fucking baby constantly, what he'd do to you and the gravelly quality of his voice, it's no wonder you can feel yourself begin to leak onto your panties.

"Jaehyun,"

"I asked you a question, baby," his tone is still mostly playful, but you can hear the command clear as day.

"Yes,"

"That's a good girl. Why don't you show me just how hot you are for me?"

Honestly, you should probably feel some semblance of hesitance, but the exhilaration that comes with his praise would likely make you do anything.

You angle your phone as best as you can, the low light of your bedside lamp illuminating the visible wet spot on your panties.

"Fuck, baby," he groans and your pride swells at seeing him just as affected by all of this as you are.

"Can you show me how you touch yourself?"

Your unoccupied hand flies to your panties without much thought, ready to slip a few fingers past the waistband-

"Wait, don't touch yourself directly yet. Touch yourself over your panties,"

"But Jaehyun," you whine, sounding a little pathetic to your own ears, "I'm so wet, and it aches."

He shuts his eyes for a few moments, jaw clenching as he tries to find his words.

"I can't wait to get my hands on you," he mutters, but you don't think he meant to verbalise that particular thought. Either way, the feeling is very much mutual.

"I know, baby, but if you're good for me, I'll reward you, okay?"

You nod almost frantically, and he tuts in response, "Words, baby. Don't make me remind you again."

"O-Okay,"

"Good. Now I want you to touch yourself how you usually would, but over your panties,"

You do as he says. Drawing slow circles against your clit. The brushes of the fabric of your panties and the pressure from your fingers making your eyes flutter. More and more of your wetness drips out of you, making your panties stick to you. Your hips jolt up into your touch sporadically, quiet moans falling from your lips.

"You look so pretty playing with your pussy for me, princess," Jaehyun breathes, his own hand slinking down his body.

You keen at the praise. Adding more pressure to your ministrations against your sensitive clit, "Jae-Jaehyun ah please. I'm so - it's so -" you whimper, your train of thought leaving you with each brush.

"I know, baby. I know. You're doing so well," groans, his heavy gaze intently focused on the mess you're making between your thighs. His cock throbbing in the confines of his boxers with every twitch of your hips and quiver of your thighs.

"Can I see you too?" You ask, clamping down hard around nothing when you notice his arm moving. Putting two and two together and coming to the realisation that he's palming himself.

"Well, since you've been doing so well. I suppose you deserve some kind of reward," he says after some faux deliberation. Angling his phone downwards. Your thighs squeeze your hand hard, never feeling excruciatingly empty as you take in the way his cock strains against his boxers.

Considering the menace he's been all night, you expect him to tease you. Touch himself over his boxers until you're begging to see him properly. However, Jaehyun loves to keep you on your toes.

The air is knocked out of your lungs when he haphazardly tugs his boxers down. His cock smacks against his toned abdomen, flushed and hard and looking good enough to make saliva pool in your mouth.

"Too bad you're not here to sit on it but, I guess we'll have to make do for now, princess,"

Jaehyun is trying to kill you. That's what this is. An elaborate plot to stop your heart right here and now.

"Jaehyun, please. Can I touch myself pr-properly please? I've been so good. Please," you whimper. Slick walls throbbing incessantly when you notice his cock twitch in his grasp.

"I don't know, baby. How badly do you want to?"

"So badly. Please, please, please, I'll do whatever you say. Whatever you want,"

His eyes glint at that, and nervousness and anticipation course through your veins. Maybe he was more calculating than you gave him credit for.

"Since you ask so nicely, go ahead. Take your panties off for me, and let me see you play with yourself properly,"

In a likely incredibly ungraceful display, you impatiently tug your panties off with one hand. Tossing them aside and shoving your hand back between your thighs. Your eyes shutting when your fingers finally come into contact with your poor clit. Whimpers and curses and moans of his name falling from your lips with every circle.

"Fuck, you look so fucking pretty, princess," he groans and, you open your eyes to look at your screen. Fresh wetness gushes out of you when you realise that he's stroking himself. His tip now broaching into an angry red territory, and he's slick with pre-cum.

"I wish you were here," you whine out, increasing the pace of your fingers in time with each stroke of Jaehyun's hand. The obscene sounds emanating from your phone's speaker going straight to clit.

His chuckle is even more gravelly than before, "Me too, princess. Watching you like this...fuck. You're driving me insane," he mutters, hips jolting up to fuck into his fist. You've never envied a hand more than in this moment.

"Th-the feeling is mutual. I'm so-so ah,"

"Are you close, baby?"

"Ye-yes," you whimper, your toes beginning to curl, and the knot that's settled in your core tightening more and more and more.

The moan that falls from his lips is low and drawn out. His hand picking up its pace considerably as he watches you begin to fall apart on your hand.

"You're going to be a good girl and cum for me, right?" Oh god. The whine that's ripped from your throat is desperate and pitchy, your wetness drips down your thighs and begins to pool onto your sheets.

All your brain can manage is a jumbled mess of what you think is his name and 'please' and choked noises of pleasure. You're so close you can practically taste it.

You're distracted from your encroaching release when you hear Jaehyun's own sounds of pleasure. It takes a considerable amount of effort to open your eyes and, you're glad you do.

You open your eyes just in time to watch Jaehyun cum. His cum spurting onto his toned abdomen, parts of his thighs and all over his pretty hand. Strained, breathy gasps flooding your ears and the soft blush on his face, all combining to send you over the edge.

You try your best to muffle your cries as your hips twitch away from your hand. Insides spasming sporadically and even more wetness gushing out of you. Smearing your thighs and adding to the mess on your sheets.

It takes you both very long moments to regain your higher order functions. The stickiness underneath you and between your thighs quickly becoming uncomfortable but, you can't bring yourself to care right now.

"This is probably the most unconventional way anyone's ever confessed to me and asked me out,"

The laugh he gives you makes the butterflies roar once more. Considering you just watched each other cum, you suppose you have no real reason to be shy anymore.

"It's definitely the most unconventional way I've asked someone out. Luckily, the Japanese leg of our tour ends in about a week, so I can take you out properly then,"

"A whole week huh," you pout.

"Unfortunately, princess. Hey, I'm not opposed to more calls like this until we're able to meet in person," he responds with a wolfish grin.

You resent the way your still sensitive walls clench at the suggestion.

[iiannabxth]

class of 09: flip side spoilers:

ok so here are my thoughts on it because what the fuck just happened.

i just finished the game and i want my money back. idk if all the writers were on a serious acid trip but this game isn’t like the first two at all. the first two games are super self aware and hilarious, but this one is 100% poorly disguised fetish content. like i unironically feel like jeffery would play this game.

there are five endings. two of them have to do with a foot fetish, jecka’s suicide ending has her randomly naked, and another has her sold into sex slavery??

jecka’s dad is suddenly super terrible btw, which he wasn’t in any of the other games. i wasn’t rooting for him in the first place but like he’s worse than nicole’s mom by a million points. idk i just feel like jecka was supposed to be the milder version of nicole so that nicole’s actions seem more harsh, so it would make sense that jecka would have a better home life?? i guess not.

the writing was just bad and unfunny too. i liked the idea of jecka going to therapy and i think her panic attacks could’ve been actually meaningful considering all the bs she goes though, but the rest of the game + plus the endings totally kill any chance of the game having the same depth as the others.

like in nicole’s games, what made her endings so powerful was that the entire game was supposed to be funny and apathetic, so when she gives her ending monologue, they’re actually thought-provoking and lowkey almost philosophical. an example would be in nicole’s sex worker route vs jeckas. nicole’s highlights how desperate and demeaning sex work can be, and that it’s ultimately not what it can be glamorized to be (like nicole originally thought.) in jeckas, while it does definitely show that it’s demeaning, it feels sexualized.

the charm of these games has been lost completely and i think the creator either misunderstood what people liked about the games or blatantly disregarded it. (which is totally possible because he literally states that he hates jeckole and like 98% of his fans.) what people liked about class of 09 is while the edgy and wild humor is very iconic and funny, the self aware commentary on topics like depression, self worth, homophobia, and sex work were very good and impactful.

all in all i’m super disappointed because i LOVE jecka and i was so excited for a game from her POV, but now that it’s out it’s just so ehhh.

[hana-no-seiiki]

how they act around reader! you know the usual, how horny they get and how the reader is potentially uncomfortable because not even they can handle the harems hormones.

MIDNIGHT DARLING HEAD-CANNONS (Unang Yugto / First Part)

YANDERE COLLEGE BASED OCS x READER

Hoo boy we have a lot of characters to go through and I haven’t even named all of them so *cracks knuckles* Let’s go with my favorite children for now.

warnings: dead dove do not eat territory here. yandere themes (lotsa violence). please don’t read this if you have a wild imagination like me oh god im aboutta faint at darling’s section. cannibalism. knife play. necrophillia. a transphobic society.

[previous ask for more context]

[next part] - yandere! faculty

Let’s start with our boy Justin Del Rosario [Yan Jock]

He’s incredibly sweet and caring. At least when you two were dating. The type to always check in on you. Always makes sure you’re hydrated and keeping up with your self-care routines.

As if popular! reader isn’t completely meticulous when it comes to their image.

Looks like a bad boy but is an actual sweetheart. Your relationship started off as a transaction of sorts. Being the softie he is though he developed feelings. Quick. The masochist.

Is a whole ass push-over when it comes to you.

Now post break-up Justin is a bit of a freak.

Like I said in my previous post of his experience as your boyfriend, he has gone through shit.

Suddenly his grades are perfect. People are actually tolerating if not appreciating his presence.

He’s becoming a threat to your place as the ruler of the campus.

But unlike you his fans aren’t declined atrocious yet.

How does Popular! Reader feel about him? Not much really. Their whole relationship was a transaction to them. I can’t emphasize how much of an apathetic bitch I wrote reader to be ya’ll I’m sorry. But in order for their harem to thrive they gotta turn a blind eye.

In terms of Horni Levels it’s uh - not so bad. Once he lost his virginity to you (yes you took his virginity) he found it to be the best stress relief and got addicted. But he’s also super respectful of your boundaries.

That was when you were originally dating though. He’d probably pound you to oblivion if you ever got back together. Pent up horni does that.

Actually, that event might not even need them getting back together. I won’t be surprised if current Justin just takes you even with his relationship with Darling.

For your favorite, Darling De Leon [yan good girl] . . .

⚠️THIS IS THE PART WHERE IT’S DEFINITELY DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Hella shy around you. You almost didn’t know she existed if it weren’t for her consistent placement as second. At least before Isabel came and Justin’s grades shot up.

She has a pretty shit past.

Has always been a little scared of you.

Extremely possessive. She had always been overshadowed by her siblings, and her time abroad without you had really shattered her self confidence. Although she’s deathly afraid her past actions would be revealed, she’s more scared of losing you to someone else.

She thought that by agreeing to date Justin, you’d think of him as disgusting for moving on so fast.

Definitely enjoyed her time on your lap a little too much.

Which brings me to Horni Levels.

If you think Justin is bad. Darling is just the worst out of all the yanderes. She’s the kinkiest one too. She has been saving herself for you, waiting for the time you corrupt her. Hoping that by that time, every obstacle has been removed.

The type to have you fuck her atop the corpses of her rivals kind of kinky. The type to fantasize about you using a knife and inserting in every way possible inside her type of kinky. The type of kinky to fuck your dead body or eat any and every part of you to fully make you two as one.

She’ll own you, dead or alive, one way or another.

How popular! reader feels about her is again, indifference. Maybe a little horni for her soft aesthetic and cute demeanor. Definitely plans to gobble her up once Justin is done playing pretend.

A character that hasn’t been mentioned yet is Isabel Labrador [yan! nerd]

Isabel used to go by the name Isaiah. She used to be pretty alright with being assigned male at birth until popular! reader suddenly announced one day that she’s more horni towards women.

She got disowned for transitioning, and like Darling, disappeared from your life for quite a bit that you forgot about her.

Similar to many of the harem members, she’s very pliant to your whims. She does many of the assignments and projects that aren’t worth your time or would lead to you lacking sleep.

Not like the professors assign you much.

A bit of a whiny brat. Used to be hella spoiled when she was younger so she’s a lot more outspoken when it comes to your sexual escapades. This leads to you beating her up the most out of everyone in the harem.

Popular! Reader is the only one who knows she’s a trans and is surprisingly very respectful about that part about her.

The two of you are mostly amicable.

Horni Levels: Pretty normal for a young adult. Loves to tease you by showing more skin sometimes. Though she always covers up when anyone else is in the picture.

Her hella religious upbringing made her pretty conservative about sex and all that but it’s often balls to the wall when they see you. Literally. Never knew she was into pegging til you took her one day.

How popular! reader feels about her? Mostly a means to an end. She’s the least careful when it comes to her simpery. It gets tiring having to discipline her every time but the angry sex makes up for it.

This one will be short since I plan on him and the rest to be minor characters. Nobody knows how Ricardo Peralta [yan! president] became the President with how much he hates your ass.

People who voted for him were probably like. ‘If a person who doesn’t even want [Y/N] became president. We won’t have a threat.’

Jokes on them he has more notes on you than the entire student body combined.

Boy is the Candace to your Phineas/Ferb. His entire mission is to bust your ass. (and for you to bust a nut in his-)

…

You don’t even know he exists.

LAST BUT NOT LEAST LET’S TALK ABOUT YOU.

It was almost as if you were made to be the apple of everyone’s eye. Not one person in campus could remember a time where they didn’t know you.

No, it was more like they didn’t want to. Why imagine a terrible era such as that?

A lot of the students from the college are spoiled brats that absolutely adored how cut throat you were. How you weren’t afraid to put them in their place unlike those push-overs they usually meet. Some were just drawn to your charisma and confidence.

Or well, just general fuckability.

People think you’re also rich but you just get a lot of stuff from the students with money.

Your birthday is a bloodbath and a half. You started celebrating it alone so that people wouldn’t see your reactions to the gifts. Both because you wanted to keep them guessing and ‘cause the person whose gift is liked will probably get murdered.

You have to routinely check for cameras or tracking devices.

It takes you every bit of your self control not to just twerk in front of the camera if not give it the finger by fucking someone who you know is innocent right in front of it. They don’t even get to see you properly in the angle.

You strategically use pussy as both a punishment and incentive.

It’s super effective!

It’s super effective.

You often use pussy to discipline or incentivize your harem. It’s super effective. At least, considering you haven’t been kidnapped and/or killed yet.

You’re a bit of a sadist.

Yeah you’re a bit of a sadist.

Popular! Reader uses pussy a lot to keep everyone in check. You’re used to giving your body away to get what you want that you’ve become numb to it.

No one is normal in this College. Not even you.

You don’t even know he exists.

[nortsauce]

HERE COMES NORT, YAPPING ABOUT FANDOMS THAT I’M NOT EVEN IN!

(And i’ll be typing the rest here because there are too many slides so read bellow)

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

My LONG ASS rant on how MHA (among other things) fails to present its ab*se victims in a good way,

Starring the todoroki family

So, i know literally no one cares but i feel like it needed to be said: but MHA has a BIG issue with victims of abuse being treated kinda shittily, to making whole arcs about their abusers.

This isn’t a HUGE thing, as the lack of sympathy for Hawk’s abusers was definitely there, but they still were portrayed in a semi-sympathetic light. This is not the main focus however.

I’m sure many could go on and on about Bakugou and Midoriya’s relationship, but thats not what i’m focusing on.

I’m focusing on the most OVERLOOKED and ABHORRENTLY handled dynamic of the Todoroki family

I will be going over each of the characters and why they suck in some way, but as a whole i have to talk about this: Each one of the characters of the family are all victims of abuse in some way, and represent the different ways that trauma affects the victim, i understand that.

All in all, they do a good job of portraying the different ways in which the people handle abuse,

Endeavor being one who never dealt with his past egotistical superiority complex and threw his baggage onto his family/children to live vicariously

Rei being the one who is emotionally/physically damaged to the point of a mental break

Touya being the ex-golden child, and the one who continued the cycle of violence (and misogyny but thats another topic for another paper)

Fuyumi being the one who holds onto an idealized version of a family that possibly only existed in her dreams, being codependent and longing/working to get those “happy times” back with her family, clinging onto smth that was possibly never there

Natsuo being the one who is (justifiably) angry at his abusers, cuts his family off and goes to pursue his own life/dreams

and finally shoto

the one who realizes his role as the golden child is only for his parents to live vicariously, breaks his cycle and is trying to figure out who he is.

These are all great representations of how people cope/handle trauma, and i believe that was on purpose, considering that it also speaks on abuse of children on baselines of being in a famous family.

However, certain aspects are clearly not handled properly; allow me to explain.

Shoto, the youngest of the family, is often seen as the architect of the abuse, as the family was actually quite “fine-living” (i’ll come back to this) before shoto was born.

There were obviously cracks in their family from the beginning, Touya being the golden child despite not being able to physically handle his own power without hurting himself (an allegory i’ll discuss), the fact that Enji (endeavor) basically bought his way into marrying Rei, and of course enji’s complex of being less than All-might.

However, many characters seem to blame the birth of Shoto for breaking the camel’s back, and starting the domestic violence that had already threatened to spill through.

It’s shown through the anime that shoto has a kind heart and never liked enji, due to the fact that he would harm him, his siblings, and his mother,

but for being the tritagonist of this show, we never get to see how he really feels. In all of this, perhaps we could see him feeling guilt for being the reason his family is broken, the possible resentment yet dependency he has for his father, the thoughts on how he feels conflicted yet guilty about his mother and continues to blame himself.

Its interesting how he never stops blaming his father, but regardless we only get his apathetic views on his father and no one else. Its saddening to see the sideline of the victim of abuse while his abuser gets a whole arc. But i’m not there yet.

Moving on we have Natsuo and Fuyumi. I grouped them together because they both have opposite ways of dealing with their trauma, as Aforementioned: Natsuo tries to cut all ties while Fuyumi tries to be a “normal” family with her remaining members.

Both of them have valid ways to why they act this way, and its tragic, however, the way they deal with their youngest sibling, shoto, is disheartening to say the least.

Both of them understand how Shoto was physically abused since he was 5, and neglect to form any sort of connection with him despite his better efforts in natsuo’s case, using him as leverage against his father and nothing more, while in fuyumi’s case, basically presents him in her fantastical version of him in their fantastical “perfect” family life, causing him to have multiple meetings with his abuser and forcing him to relive the trauma so she can have peace of mind.

In hindsight, this is all interesting heavy topics to explore in a character, and i was honestly curious to see how it would be handled

however it all faltered as soon as I saw the hospital scene.

SPOILERS:

After Dabi’s Dance, the todoroki family comes to visit Shoto and Endeavor in the hospital, both of whom are heavily bandaged and bed-ridden.

Despite this all, Rei, Fuyumi, and Natsuo force todoroki, who is burnt and recovering his voice, to get up and walk over to his father’s ward to speak to him.

Shoto, despite being unable to form full sentences, makes it FULLY CLEAR he does not want to be there, by closing the door to his ward, and attempting to leave. Despite his clear efforts, his family makes him go in to talk to him.

this 16 year old boy being forced out of RECOVERING, fully bandaged and barely able to talk, forced to visit his abuser to hear him cry about not being able to fight his own son, depsite also being his son and physically harmed by him since childhood.

In my opinion that wasn’t a good move on any of the family’s part.

Rei is a difficult subject to discuss. She is clearly a victim and has been for. while. She is mentally distant after being harmed for so long and spent time in a psyche-ward to handle herself.

Saying that she was a bad mother would be too far in my opinion, as she did her best to provide a nice life for her kids as well as defend them from her husband.

Not much is said about her, but from what we can tell she loved her kids very much, until the abuse started.

I feel the blame for shoto began with her, not being able to face her own son after the “death” of her first and the fact that his face reminded her of the abuse she’s faced from endeavor.

Her character is honestly an interesting one, but she is not safe from my scrutiny of the hospital scene. She was very brave for facing her abuser like this, however, she did not have to drag her bedridden youngest into the fray.

She is the DIRECT reason shoto has a scar on her face, (indirectly endeavor’s fault)

But i will never blame her for the abuse she faced for her children, by her husband and to an extent, her own son touya, which leads me into my next point

SPOILERS

Touya, aka Dabi, is the “Late” eldest brother who was originally Endeavor’s ticket into living vicariously to defeat all-might and be the number 1 hero.

I could go into the psychology of his character but he is ultimately very interesting. In all honesty the way he is presented as being the consequences of endeavor’s actions is palpable and honestly quite raw. At a young age, he was handling the pressure of being his father’s perfect creation, and the fame and fortune that followed as he sought his father’s approval. Soon, his quirk began to burn him every time he used it, a fact that endeavor ignored to pursue his goal. Touya’s power became self-harm at some point, an allegory for his disregard for his own life and well-being for his father’s dream which ultimately (literally) exploded on itself.

Touya’s story is interesting, from his abuse causing him to act like his father craving his approval, which lead him to act put against his mother and shoto, while laying his baggage onto his younger siblings, to losing his mind and realizing that he wanted his father dead and continuing the cycle of abuse further.

This is all a deep and interesting way to look at abuse and how the abused may become an abuser, HOWEVER.

MY critique here, is how sidelined his whole arc is, as his story is more portrayed of Endeavor’s past coming to haunt him, all for the watcher to sympathize with endeavor rather than understand how the abuse endeavor put onto touya made dabi. This whole arc was framed to be sympathetic towards endeavor, and to fear Dabi. Don’t even get me started on how Shoto’s feelings meant nothing in this arc, as well as being immediately cut off by a surprise cameo of a character that possibly discredited Dabi’s expose video on his abuser.

Finally, we get to talk about the elephant in the room: Enji Todoroki, endeavor himself.

What is there not to say about this man.

I feel I should start eith the obvious:

The forgiveness/sympathy arc for endeavor was quite possibly the worst thing to ever happen in the anime, and this is not subjective.

The whole arc is based around how Endeavor is a victim of his own mind and is trying his hardest to make up for being a terrible person.

Personally, i love to see character arcs of villains becoming a better person, but thats the very thing: Endeavor is trying to ask for forgiveness from his family, who he abused for 15 YEARS. This is no exaggeration as Shoto is now 16, and his cracks started forming as soon as he was born.

Endeavor had illegally married a woman that he basically bought his way into,

was illegally “breeding” (eugh) for quirk benefits,

Treated one of his son’s like a vicarious version of himself

Physically abused his son (age 5+) his wife, and verbally abused the rest of his children

isolated his son

treated his son like a weapon

and finally felt too prideful for any sort of meaningful apology.

This all adds up to a character who only felt sorry for his actions after the consequences started hitting him in the face, as he only felt remorseful when Shoto refused to be associated with him.

Now, some of you may be thinking: “A lot of characters are forgiven for more, why would he be the exception? It’s fictional why do you care?”

There are several reasons to why I care but i’ll speak in terms of framing for now. This show is highly influential to not only kids (as it is a KIDS SHOW) but to adults as well. May i direct your attention to the man who saved a woman from a murderous ex-boyfriend by blocking his machete hits all because My Hero Academia inspired him to take action and be a hero?

Or how about a murder that took place because the accused was inspired by an invader zim episode (the dark harvest)

Whether you like it or not, fiction HAS an affect on reality. Yes, we can determine what is real and what is fake, but you cannot deny that a lot of what media we consume helps us be who we are.

If the show promotes more sympathy towards an abuser than their victims, then people may find themselves sympathizing real world abusers over the voices of victims.

I wont speak on delicate subjects but I can already see affects of this happening, as people rally to defend famous people accused of being abusers rather than listen and provide support to the alleged victims.

In conclusion, These topics are definitely not easy to write, and I, for one, am NO expert and my word should not be used as gospel truth or a guideline on how to write these characters.

This is all simply my opinion on how the bias towards abusers in the show leads for the message to be skewed and marred in action.

I understand that no one is perfect, but if we only reward and sympathize with those who only seek redemption after they face scrutiny, then we lose the meaning of what makes someone worthy of forgiveness.

These topics are deep and interesting, but the way they are handled in this show is simply bad writing.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk and again: no shade towards the writers. Just critiques!

[luffyvace]

dunno if you do shalnark x reader fics but i can barely find any of my silly goober so here i am asking 😭🙏

its chill if you don’t, dw about it, but i was wondering if you could do one of shalnark and like a closed off reader that he tries so desperately to open up to him. make it as fluffy or angsty as you want 🙏🙏🧎 WWW

UM YES I DO?! I LOVE OUR SILLY LITTLE NOT SO RUSSIAN HACKER⁉️💗💗

THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA?! Why has no one thought of this?? Hcs are popping into my head as I TYPE THIS. I’m going to make it fluffy bc I’m a sucker for it 😊 thank you for requesting anon!! :)

(btw I don’t really do fics, just hcs, but I’ll write it in a sort of fic way as possible <3)

For these I’ll do reader who’s in phantom troupe or at least knows he’s in it

the reason for you being closed of may vary, you could naturally be like that or you could be scarred with trauma

who knows?

You.

in which I let you decide why you are the way you are :)

besides the point

shalnark really does do everything to get you to open up to him

every love language, every bribery possible, even light empty threats!

nothing.

You don’t crack a bit.

first is love languages:

“N/nnn why don’t you talk to me today??”

he came over to you and snuggled up close to you

you either turn away or completely ignore him

”come on now, I’m your boyfriend! Don’t you wanna talk to me??”

you attention doesn’t move at all from what you were doing

“Your so coldhearted towards me, don’t you care about me at all? Don’t you love me?” He pouts. He knows the answer. He just wants you to show it

”I’m in a dangerous criminal organization you know? I could die any second! Won’t you care??”

you don’t bat an eye

he chooses not to sigh and give up today

he playfully starts kissing you all over your face

hugging you tighter, caressing your hair

still nothing

i feel this is another reason he likes you

your a enigma to him

he doesn’t view you as a toy though—of course not! He loves you, but your so fascinating to him, you really know how to keep a man on his toes

he can’t figure out why you are the way you are and you won’t tell him

you accept his proposal to be his s/o but won’t say you love him? Won’t cuddle or kiss? His gifts collect dust?

this man hardly knew love in his childhood and now your still deriving him of it 😗

you may or may not know that and you may or may not feel guilty about it

but as for words of affs

”_____ I love you”

”…”

”I love you, _____”

”okay?..”

”your supposed to say it back!”

”I said okay”

”say you love me too!!”

”so what’s the troupes plans?”

”stop changing the subject!”

bro is never getting that I love you 🤦‍♀️

gifts??

”_____ I got you a gift!” *insert him handing you something you really love that he found out through hacking not from you*

“I don’t want it”

”liar! This is your favorite!! Just accept it ___”

“Put it on the table..”

*que shalnark dropping his shoulders with a dull look while tossing it on the table

he knows your never gonna touch it

or at least never let him see

as far as quality time that’s the one he gets away with the most

LOL

he could spend all day with you and you really wouldn’t say anything

following you around and such

the fact that you never do lets him know you do love him

eventually he figures it might be your love language

If someone in your past did this to you?

you can bet he tracked them down and gave them to feitan >:)

he didn’t tell him what they did tho he just said ‘hey here’s another victim’

now he’s not really a torture guy but we know he is somewhat apathetic himself

maybe even sadistic

either way he definitely watched this torture session

he wouldn’t want to miss out on the pain of the one(s) who hurt you

:)

he likely tells you afterwards to see your reaction

he could tell if it still traumatizes you based on that and if it is he tries extra hard to get you to open back up

if not he’s kinda back to square one..

About the light threats

he’d threaten to reveal embarrassing moments and secrets of yours if you don’t give him a kiss in the next 24 hours

the first time he did this you glared thinking he would

but after you found out it was empty you ignored all other threats

the reason you ignored the first one was you didn’t really like people anyway so you were kinda just like forget it, whatever

If you did give him the kiss- PROGRESSSSSSSSS

finally⁉️

you don’t fall for it twice after you realize it was empty though

but this means your not against it! You just prefer not to!

and now it’s confirmed you love him!!

YIPPIE

I hope you enjoyed your hcs anon! they were a bit short but i like the ending :)

THERE NEEDS TO BE MORE SHALNARK HCS RN!! (I love the gif i put of him)

[cepheustarot]

What awaits you in November?

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur. You build your own life and destiny.

Pick a pile. Choose one or more pictures. Trust your intuition.

Pile 1: As I see it, here you will become the one who will be at the center of a dispute between two people. you will feel like you are beietwen two fires, because it will be difficult to support the someone alone person, these two people are your close people and each of them is right in his own way.  but as I see it, here you generally forget about the situation and say, it's not my business, two adults and mature people are quarreling, so they can come to a compromise without my participation. But another one will decide to put two people in their place and say, stop arguing! don't you have anything else to do? or something like that, in general, your words will help resolve this conflict or at least minimize disputes. The second event is due to the fact that you are finishing a long and hard work, perhaps someone has been diligently preparing for the upcoming exams. you finally go on vacation or go on vacation, give yourself the opportunity to relax, and you will be alone with yourself. The third event promises a new period or a new stage in your life, you will start doing something new for you or go to another university, find a new job that is generally different from the one you worked at before. Moreover, you will like these changes, you will be satisfied with the new in your life, you will have a passion, an interest in everything that you will start doing.

Pile 2: You were in suspense for a long time, you didn't know what to do and how to move, because everything somehow returned to the same thing or to what you started with. The pressure from the outside has led you to an apathetic state, you have withdrawn to yourself and have already lost hope of solving the problem, but this month you will have the opportunity to break the vicious circle and take the next step, move on to another stage. Moreover, as soon as you do this, everything will get better in your life, relationships with people, finances will increase, your condition will improve, there will be a lot of time for what you wanted to realize for a long time, but could not for certain reasons.The next event promises you new acquaintances! Or you will be among people, maybe you will meet with your friends or relatives, or spend time in a big company and it will definitely leave a pleasant memory for you! You can also be in the center of attention, people will approach you to get acquainted. It can also mean that if you are blogging or developing in social networks in social networks, then people will notice you, subscribe to you, put likes and everything like that. For those who work as a freelancer, this is also a good event, since new customers, buyers will come to you and a new stream of people will bring you good money. Also, at the end of the month, you can expect a spontaneous trip, or you can move to a new apartment, a new house, change your place of residence, you can change your place of work or change something in your appearance, here the key word is spontaneity. But be careful and attentive, because some changes may not work out as you planned or as you wanted and you may face not very good consequences, so still think carefully about your spontaneous idea before proceeding to execution.

Pile 3: The 1st event is connected with your meeting with a partner or future love! If you have been single for a while, then here you will have the opportunity to meet your love. To describe a person briefly, he is quite mature, hardworking, reliable, responsible, generous, he may be the same age as you or a little older than you. If you are already in a romantic relationship, then this month you will spend a lot of time with your love, you will feel very good and comfortable together, the person will show you all his love and attention, in general, there is a warm and harmonious period in your relationship. If you are in a quarrel or a difficult situation with your lover, then here you will successfully find a compromise and a solution to your problem! The second event is due to the fact that you refuse to communicate with a person from your environment, it can be either your friend, acquaintance, or someone from relatives. But! if you refuse, you will soon meet another person who will become your good friend or at least a good interlocutor, you will feel that he understands you, supports you and you can share with him everything that worries your soul and thoughts. You can also reach a compromise with a person with whom you have a difficult situation, he will make concessions to you and change his attitude towards you for the better, for example, he will become more attentive to you and your feelings. The next event is related to your plans and goals, perhaps you have just started implementing recently and the process is difficult for you, there are a lot of failures on your way or something does not work out for a long time. In this case, you need to take a break and postpone the case, spend time with your loved ones or alone to dispel your thoughts and look at the problem from the other side or simply relax. In any case, you have enough strength and resources to pass all the obstacles, so don't worry too much! Believe that you will succeed.

Thank you for reading! I will be glad of any feedback <3

[3hks]

Types of Protagonists

Merry Christmas, everyone! For this special day, I decided to release a hopefully more interesting and helpful post! As always, I made up MOST of the names to get the general idea across. (The internet is only so helpful and only so specific.) But having said that, here are some different types of main characters!The Hero - We all grew up with this one, this character's whole goal is just to be able to make a positive impact on the world. They're often caring, sometimes unnecessarily so, kind, and determined!

>>> The Antihero - An antihero is a character whose actions are morally wrong, as they seem like they'd be villains in any other story. However, they do everything with a positive purpose and motive in mind! Lastly, this character is usually more ruthless and apathetic towards others than the common person.

>>> The Villain - Were you surprised? Yes, a villain can absolutely be the main character of the story! They're simply the antagonist, but with the story based on their point of view. Despite that, don't get this mixed up with an antihero! A stereotypical villain really doesn't have much good behind their motives.

>>> The Average One - This character is meant to connect with the readers. They aren't anything special and don't stick out in any particular way, as their emotions and responses are meant to be relatable to the majority of the audience. They may have a couple of exceptional traits, but those are typically supernatural and don't interfere with their personality!

>>> The Cold Calculator - This is one of the more specific types that I couldn't research explicitly about online. The Cold Calculator is a character type that is, well, cold and calculating! They have an impressively high amount of intelligence, which they use to achieve their objectives. Additionally, they are able to manipulate people, yet there's a lack of empathy for them. They are self-centered and focus only on their goals, disregarding those around them. Normally, this character isn't meant to stick out too much from the crowd, but naturally, there can be exceptions!

>>> The Hidden Genius - To be honest, I don't see much of this character type in American novels, but I think that they could really use some! The Hidden Genius is usually found in fantasy-oriented stories, where they have an extraordinary ability, but hide it for private reasons. This could be because it's dangerous, they lack control over it, it's peculiar, it requires specific settings, they're unaware of their ability, or that they simply don't want anyone realizing the power they have!

>>> The Changed One - This is a protagonist who's actively trying to change themselves from who they previously were! They're trying to escape their previous life and connections because they realize that what they were doing was, well, wrong. (Example: a thief abandoning his job to simply become a normal citizen, or a socially awkward student trying to overcome their anxiousness.) Still, their history does have an impact on them and affects them as a person! Honestly, it doesn't have to be a major change either, the point is that a character is just trying to alter themselves for the better!

>>> The Second Best - This character is incredibly impressive at something--very well above average--but there's another character who's simply better and tops them. The second character is normally some kind of rival for the protagonist to overcome. The two's relationship is typically rather complex, as it's often composed of learning, growth, competitiveness, and acceptance! This character is usually found in a school setting, revolving around academics or sports, but it's definitely not limited to that!

>>> The Almost Perfect Character - When introduced, this protagonist is seemingly perfect in all aspects of their life (at least in the eyes of others). However, as the story continues, little flaws are revealed and the readers are now aware of the underlying depth of this protagonist's life. Throughout the character's journey, they overcome their doubts, accept themselves for who they are, and learn to appreciate their imperfections!

>>> The Not-So-Gifted One - This character is pretty much summed up by the name: they're not very talented and lacking in several different, important skills. They are below average compared to other people their age, and struggle to meet expectations. Their story is typically about self-improvement, change, and acceptance!

Whew! That's ten different types of protagonists that can definitely be used in your works! I hope that these serve as inspiration and some kind of guide to those struggling to come up with an original main character! Thank you so much for those who bothered to read this unnecessarily long post, and happy holidays!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[vodika-vibes]

Just submitting another Jango request. Go nuts love.

The Reason

Summary: You seem to always be the sacrificial lamb, be it for your parents or your extended family. You hope that history won’t repeat itself with Jango.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 1821

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So this started out as one thing, and turned into another, lol. The ending is rather open-ended, I think. It can either continue on to canon, or veer off into AU territory, and I kind of love it.

You sit in front of the vanity in the small side room set aside for Brides to get ready for their big day. Your hair is done, as is your makeup, and you’re already dressed in your down and jewelry.

And you asked your bridesmaids, mother, and grandmother to give you a few moments to yourself.

As you stare at yourself in the mirror, you realize that you don’t recognize the woman staring back at you.

Your hair had been straightened, curled, and then pinned up with diamonds and flowers and diamond flowers. Your makeup is caked on your face. Your dress is tight and not at all your preferred style. The jewelry is big and expensive and gaudy—

You might look like a bride, but you feel like a prisoner about to be walked to the execution chamber.

Only, no one is going to give you a stay of execution.

You press a carefully manicured hand over your heart and lean over slightly, releasing a slightly shaky breath.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. 

Your soon-to-be husband is…well, he’s not a good man. Not by any definition of the word, but he’s apathetic enough about you that he won’t hurt you. In fact, you’re pretty sure that, after today, you’ll only see him on major holidays.

You’ll be little more than his perfect little trophy wife.

Pretty and delicate. Always perfectly done with perfect hair and nails and makeup.

You close your eyes and the lonely life you’re being saddled with stretches out in front of you. You’ll be isolated from your friends, and forced to make other acquaintances who better match the aesthetic that your husband will want you to maintain.

Your hand flies from your chest, to press over your mouth as a sob threatens to rip from your throat.

There’s a knock on the door, and you immediately straighten and drop your hand, shoving all of your emotions back into the little box deep within your heart. “It’s open,” You call, your voice soft and delicate and pretty.

Gods. Who have you become?

The door clicks open, and your Maid of Honor steps into the room. Lanai is Miralian and has been your best friend since both of you were in diapers, and you picked the bridesmaid outfits solely based on what would look good with her deep green skin.

She shuts the door and walks over to you, lightly setting her hands on your bare shoulders, squeezing gently. Her dark gaze is locked with yours, and she smiles softly.

“Oh, Dove.” Lanai wraps her arms around your shoulders from behind and presses the side of her head against yours, “You’re so unhappy.”

For a moment, your facade crumbles, and the picture-perfect woman in the mirror reveals herself to be you. Just you.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” You admit as you wrap your hands around her arms, “Look at me, Lanai. I…I don’t know this woman.”

Lanai’s arms tighten around you, but she doesn’t say anything. And then she drops a kiss to your temple and releases you to walk over to the closet.

“What are you doing?” You ask as you turn on your chair to watch her.

Lanai digs through the closet for a moment and then pulls out a worn denim backpack. Your old backpack, from high school. It’s covered in patches, drawings, and signatures. 

A small smile crosses your face at the sight. “Where did you find this?” You ask, “I thought mother threw it away.”

“She did,” Lanai replied, “I saved it, and stored it in my closet.” She pauses and trails a finger over a tooka patch, “Do you remember our plan when we were in high school?”

“Yeah. We were going to leave this place. We were going to save up money for a ship and travel the galaxy and write a book about the different people and places we saw.” Your smile is small and fond, though it fades quickly, “Guess we should have known it was never going to happen.”

Lanai’s smile is tragic, and you take an aborted step towards her.

She presses the bag into your hands, “Open it.”

You shoot her a confused look but unzip the bag and peer in. And then the confusion morphs into genuine surprise as you pull out an outfit that better suits your tastes.

And, at the bottom of the bag is a folder. Inside the folder is the proof of purchase for a small ship called Red Robin, as well as the keys to start it.

“Lanai, what—?”

“I saw the writing on the wall when we were still seniors,” She says, “The other girls are stalling the wedding, the pastor is going to be very, very late. You have time to change and run.”

You flip towards the back of the folder and pause when you see a new ID card and everything you’d need for a brand new identity.

“Lanai—?”

“We love you. All we want is for you to be happy. And you won’t be happy here.”

You stare at your best friend and feel tears prick the corner of your eyes, “I’m going to miss you so much,”

Lanai flings her arms around you, “I know. I’ll miss you too. But this isn’t goodbye forever. It’s just…until we see each other again.” She pulls back and wipes a tear off her cheek, “Now, let’s get you out of this get-up.”

A shaky laugh falls from you as she starts pulling gems out of your hair and drops them on the floor as though they’re worthless, “How’d you remember the ship name we picked out when we were six?”

“Because I’m amazing, that’s how. Now shush, we have to be quick. Here’s a makeup wipe to get that gunk off your face—”

Exactly one hour later, the Red Robin leaves atmosphere.

Three years later, you’ve made a name for yourself as a transport pilot who is quite skilled at dealing with pirates, cartels, and everything in between. You’ve made friends with Jedi and bounty hunters.

And, so far as you can tell, no one is looking for the run-away bride who you used to be.

You’re just glad that you’re able to be you again.

You’ve recently dyed your hair dark pink and added three more tattoos to your ever-growing collection. 

Today, though, you’re taking a vacation day. 

A vacation day on a very nice space station, where you’re nursing something fruity and sweet and is probably 85% alcohol. You cheerfully stick the umbrella back into the drink and flick it so it twirls around the pale blue liquid, and start to seriously consider a beach vacation on Scarif when someone knocks on your table.

You lean back and peer up into the very amused face of Jango Fett.

“Jango!” You beam at him and kick the chair out for him, “Have a seat! It’s been ages!”

He sinks into the chair next to you and steals your drink to take a sip. “Yeah, yeah. I was on the other side of the galaxy. On a job.”

“I figured,” You beam at him, “Still, it’s nice to see you. I miss you when you’re not around.”

He flashes you a small smirk, and takes another sip of your drink, “You know, I’m pretty sure this is just alcohol flavored with sugar.”

You shrug, “Probably. Anyway, what brings you here?”

“You, actually.”

“Oh?”

Jango drops a bounty puck between you and activates it with a press of a button. Your face appears on the holo.

You blink at yourself, and then at Jango, “Someone put a bounty on me?”

“Please tell me you’re not flattered about this,” He says with a sigh.

“Surprised, mostly.” You lean in and squint at the holo, “My hair hasn’t been that color in years, and that outfit!”

“It’s your face, but it’s not your name, Dove.” Jango replies, “I was contacted by a man who said that his bride-to-be vanished on their wedding day. I don’t suppose you have an explanation?”

“It was supposed to be a political marriage. I would have had more freedom as a prisoner.” You explain, “I’m not going back, Jango.”

He sighs and leans back in his chair, “Apparently your family misses you. And I can’t believe you never mentioned this to me.”

“They can continue missing me. The only way you’ll get me back there is in a body bag.” You reply as you steal your drink back and take a sip. “And it’s something that I wanted to forget.”

He folds his arms, “You’re so stubborn.”

“I will not be anyone’s trophy wife.” You hiss as you lean across the table, “Ever.” You frown when you see the tiny smile on Jango’s face, “Why are you smiling like that?”

His smile widens, “I’ve been offered a job. A long job.”

You stare at him, confused, “Okay?”

“I want you to come with me.”

“...what?”

“Because you’re talented and clever,” Jango replies, “And you read people the way that most people read books, and I need that.”

“For what?!”

He leans in, “I was contacted by someone who, I’m pretty sure, is a sith,”

“You’re fucking with me,”

“I’m not.”

“You can’t help the Sith, Jango. Do you remember anything good happening when the Sith were involved? Like. Ever?” You demand.

He leans in a little more, “Listen, they want me to go to Kamino and allow myself to be cloned.”

“That’s the dumbest damn thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“I have a plan.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to let them, and then I’m going to take the clones and retake Mandalore.” Jango’s smile is sharp, “Kriff the rest of the galaxy, and kriff the sith.”

“You’re going to start a war.”

“Wars going to happen with or without me,” Jango points out, “This way, I get to control the narrative.”

“And why do you want me?”

“Like I said, you’re clever and you’re good at reading people. I need people following me who I can trust.” He pauses, “People I can trust like how I trust you.”

“Jango—”

“Also, they’re giving me a clone to raise as a son, and he’s going to need a mom.”

“Wow, that’s romantic.” You say sarcastically.

“Come on, Dove. You know I love you.”

“This is stupid, Jango. You know that, right? I mean, it’s going to take years—”

“They’re going to have increased aging for 10 years.” He explains, “Cyare, please, I need you on this.”

You sigh softly, “Alright, Jango. I’ll help. But if this goes wrong—”

“I’ll protect you. I swear it.” He takes your hand and presses a light kiss to your knuckles, “So…will you marry me now?”

You know that this whole thing can go wrong in millions of ways. But right here, right now, you decide to trust Jango. That’s what it is to love someone, right?

[moonlit-jellies]

jealousy jealousy

this was a request for @sheneyney so thank u so much for encouraging my brainrot

so i turned this into headcanons bc big paragraphs trigger enough anxiety in me to kill a bear so ENJOY!!!! its a bit different from the og prompt but those jealousy themes are still. strong

just wanna. smack him around a lil and kiss his face

18+ readers only pls

tags: eric x reader, fluff, MILD allusions to adult content so 18+ only (saying it again minors get out of here), jealousy, eric kinda being shitty to other people (can expand on this in other pieces just say the word)

established relationship:

ok so i know in my heart and soul that eric gets so fucking jealous HOWEVER. this is not standard "oh they're my partner im protective/possessive over" no no no

this guy is completely fine with you sparring with other people, hanging out, going to parties, all that shit does not phase him even someone else flirting with you (to a certain extent) hes just kind of watching with a smirk bc he knows that a) you would kick their ass if they tried something and b) you wouldnt cheat on him. hes too confident to have that as one of his major worries in your relationships

the thing he gets jealous over is when you have to do anything that requires nonviolent touching or other like. one-on-one things like that

see fear sim training

i can imagine like every once in a while all the dauntless members are required to do their fear sims again just to keep their skills up you know?

and he can't administer your sim bc of some kind rule that bc youre dating its not allowed or whatever

and hes just waiting for you to be done absolutely seething that someone else is in there with you when youre in one of the most vulnerable states you could be in

you come out being like oh yeah it sucked but like whatever and hes ready to pounce bc if he doesnt get his hands on you

immediately he'll like. die probably so he doesnt get jealous a lot but when he does its so fucking obvious and honestly kind of funny bc hes just SEETHING

what if it was reversed????

if YOU are jealous of someone being flirty with him he will see that and immediately be so shitty about

some girl is flirting w him and hes like apathetic towards it you sass him later and hes like mmmm dont do that youve got competition (he wouldnt cheat on you) (you know that)

you roll your eyes but grip him a little harder when youre going to sleep that night

pre relationship:

before you starting dating, when he was 1000% crushing on you, he would get jealous over other people sparring with you and shit like that

at first you couldn't understand why this dude would just. death glare at you while you were doing anything one-on-one with another person and you kind of got used to it

(when you start dating you put two and two together and you hold that over his head for MONTHS)

and like. pre-headcanon-character-development, he definitely would have been like an absolute dick to people who asked you out

youd be stood up by people and not understand why not knowing he either threatened or physically hurt them to prevent them from going on that date (not a good thing and he gets . less shitty about it in the future but lets be real in canon hes a shitty guy) (hes hot tho :3)

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── PEREGRINE // TWO

Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.

Chapter Synopsis: You and May hang out at the mall before going to dinner with Reo, Ryosuke, and Nagi.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.1k

Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters

A/N: ok so i lowkey hate writing nagi atm simply because he is a character who (imo) NEEDS a build up to feel like he actually cares abt someone instead of being generally apathetic. but in this part of the story we’re like…past that build up if that makes sense?? so he feels weird to me rn since he’s the product of character development that’s happened chronologically but not narratively. idk that was a long rant for no reason LMAO i hope you guys don’t hate the chapter.

divider credits: @/benkeibear

You were awoken from a pleasant dream whose contents you could not remember by banging on the room door. When Ryosuke only groaned and mumbled something violent in response, you realized that it fell to you to see what was happening. Yawning and rubbing your eyes, you rolled out of bed and stumbled over to the entrance, swinging it open to find a straight-faced Reo and a playfully irritated May.

“What happened to not sleeping, huh?” May said, poking you in the forehead.

“We weren’t sleeping,” you said, though your statement was punctuated by another yawn, somewhat detracting from its validity.

“That’s believable,” Reo said.

“Oh, that’s enough out of you,” you said. “What’s up? Why’re you guys here?”

“We were going to show you around, remember?” May said.

“You weren’t answering our texts and calls, so we came to see how you were doing in person,” Reo said, his expression uncharacteristically sour.

“Don’t mind him,” May said. “He’s just mad because he lost one of our bets.”

“What was it this time?” you said. For as long as they had been acquainted, Reo and May had constantly been making lighthearted bets against one another, and it seemed that even with their wedding looming so close, their games had not ceased any.

“It was a stupid bet,” Reo grumbled. “I was so sure I was going to win, but my own best friend betrayed me!”

“Me?” you said, pointing at yourself. “What, because I fell asleep? Did you seriously bet I was going to stay awake? You should’ve known better.”

“So you were asleep!” May said.

“Er,” you said. “Well, there’s no point in hiding it. Yeah, we were.”

“Shame on you,” May said.

“Actually, I’m talking about Nagi,” Reo said. “I bet that he wouldn’t come to dinner with all of us later tonight, because it would be way too much of a chore.”

“That’s a pretty sensible option,” you said. “He doesn’t really do things unless they’re easy for him.”

“Exactly my point!” Reo said. “See? I’m not stupid!”

“Maybe neither of you know him as well as I do,” May said with a mysterious shrug. “I guessed he was going to come, and guess what? He is!”

“It’s just not plausible for you to know him better than me!” Reo said. “Y/N, sure, that makes sense. She barely ever talked to him, so it’s not impossible for you to have the upper hand if you’re betting against her. But me? Me? That’s — it’s — it’s just preposterous, that’s what it is!”

“He’s taking this pretty personally,” you observed.

“I know,” May said. “It’s really funny. Every time I pretend like I might know more than him about you or Nagi, he freaks out. The trick is that most of the time, he actually does win bets involving the two of you. I just really ham up the few times that I do win, so it seems like I’m some kind of clairvoyant genius or something.”

“Maybe you’re not clairvoyant, but you’re definitely comedic,” you said. “I’m grateful you’re the one marrying him. He needs someone that keeps him on his toes.”

“It’s a duty I take seriously,” she said. “Anyways, is that fiancé of yours going to come with us or not?”

“Oh, right,” Reo said, his anger dissipating entirely. “That was the other question. Will he want to be there?”

“I’ll make him come to dinner for sure,” you said. “I don’t know if he’ll want to go shopping, though. I can ask.”

“You don’t have to,” May said.

“True,” Reo said. “The three of us could just hang out. It’d be like old times.”

“I’d feel embarrassed third-wheeling you two,” you said. “What would I do when you started getting all lovey-dovey? It would be really awkward if I didn’t even have anyone there to commiserate with.”

“You’re such a baby,” May said. “It’ll be fine. We’ll keep our PDA to a minimum.”

“I’ve known Reo for too long,” you said, pointing at where his hand was already intertwining with hers. “Asking him to refrain from PDA is a cruel and unusual punishment that I could never inflict, even if it was for my own personal comfort.”

“That’s true,” she said, leaning against him slightly. It was the kind of love that was so assured they did not even have to think twice about it. It came naturally, simply. There was no facade to be maintained, no perfect image that was always mere seconds away from shattering entirely.

“Right, so let me just wake Ryosuke up and see what he says,” you said, though of course, you didn’t need to. Perhaps there was not as much love between you and him as there once had been, but your understanding had only grown in the years that had passed, so you could predict his answer with perfect accuracy before you had even asked the question.

He was already stirring when you returned to his side, running his fingers through his hair and drinking from the bottle of water that the hotel staff had so kindly left on our bedside.

“Morning, babe,” he said to you.

“It’s actually afternoon,” you said.

“It’s morning somewhere,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“Sure,” you said. “Look, Reo and May are here. They’re going to take us to the mall and show us around, and then we’ll all go to dinner together.”

“Okay,” he said. “Give a minute and I’ll meet you all outside.”

“You’ll come shopping?” you checked.

“Of course I will. I need to make sure you don’t buy anything unfashionable,” he said, winking at you cheekily. You did not respond in kind.

“We’ll wait in the hotel lobby,” you said. You wanted to badly to believe that he was being like this because seeing Reo and May had reminded him of what your life used to be like, but the truth was probably just that he had not had the chance to see another woman in some time and was therefore feeling fonder of you because you were his only option, as he was yours.

“He’ll meet us in the lobby,” you said to Reo and May, taking your purse off of the hook by the entrance. The strap rested on your shoulder as you made sure you had one of the copies of the key in your wallet before shutting the door behind you, trusting Ryosuke would lock it.

“If he takes too long, we’ll leave without him,” May said. Reo did not say anything, but considering his policy of being as polite at all times as he could manage, it was as good as an agreement on his part. You supposed May must’ve made clear her dislike to Reo, although if you were recalling correctly, Reo had never exactly been Ryosuke’s number-one-fan, either. He was just better about hiding it than May and Chigiri, both of whom were all but open about their true feelings towards him.

“He won’t,” you said. “He’s basically ready. He just had to use the bathroom, I think.”

“I was just saying,” she said. “It would be in character for him to take forever, is all. What did Chigiri always call him? A peacock bastard or something?”

“Believe it or not, he still calls him that,” you said.

“To his face?” Reo said, eyebrows shooting up. “That’s gutsy, even for him.”

“I knew I liked him for a reason,” May said.

“Not exactly to his face, considering he refuses to even look at Ryosuke. Apparently, it breaks him out,” you said. “And you know how he is about his skin care, Reo.”

Reo, who had been Chigiri’s roommate just as you had been May’s, made a face in acknowledgment, likely recalling as you were the bottles upon bottles of expensive lotions and hair products that Chigiri had invested most of his allowance and, later, salary in.

“He’s not wrong, per se,” May said. “I can feel an itch under my skin as well, just from being around him for so long.”

“I hope that you can get over your allergy on this trip, then,” you said. “Considering he’s going to be at your wedding, and you’ll be at mine.”

“He’s only here as your plus one,” May said.

“That doesn’t change the fact that he’s here,” you said slowly, like you were explaining the concept to a child.

“No, but it does mean that I didn’t invite him,” she explained. Reo tried to cover his snicker by hiding his mouth behind his hand, but considering his eyes still scrunched at the corners and glittered with mirth, he was overall unsuccessful.

“Just be nice to him, please,” you said. “It’s my life you’re making harder. At least with Chigiri, there’s that old rivalry to explain it, but you’re just going out of your way to be rude.”

“You’re right,” Reo said, suddenly guilty, shoving his hands in his pockets and shrugging up his shoulders high as a defense from your disappointment. “We’ll call a truce for the duration of the wedding.”

“We will?” May said.

“May, she promised to get along with Nagi for us,” he said. “It’s the least we owe her.”

“Stop bringing Nagi up,” you said, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” Reo said. May pursed her lips but nodded, though she looked more contemplative than unwilling, as if some new information had suddenly been revealed to her. You couldn’t be sure what information that might’ve been, exactly, but since she did not reveal her hand, you were left to guess.

Ryosuke stepped out of the elevator a few moments later, wearing a new set of clothes and an easy grin. He waved at the receptionist when he passed her, and then he crossed the room to stand at your side, though you noticed he did not even try to put his arm around your body or his hand on your own. He seemed more like a particularly close friend than a lover, and you trained your gaze on the ground instead of reaching out for him as you could have.

“Hope I didn’t keep you guys waiting for long,” he said. May shook her head, smiling at him as best she could. She must’ve picked up that political savvy from Reo, who had a natural-born charm which endeared him to all.

“It’s not a problem,” she said. Ryosuke seemed taken aback by the sudden switch in her demeanor, but he took it in stride.

“Alright,” he said. “Should we get going, then?”

“Yes, that sounds good. Should we take one car or two?” Reo said.

“I vote two,” you said, wanting to give Reo and May the privacy that would be hard-won in the coming weeks. May nodded.

“Agreed. I call having Y/N with me!” she said, wrapping herself around your bicep and batting her eyelashes at Reo.

“Okay,” he said through gritted teeth. “Looks like it’s you and me, Kira.”

“Fine by me,” Ryosuke said.

“Wait, May, don’t you want to spend some time with Reo?” you said. “You guys are going to be so busy getting ready for the wedding soon, so you’ll barely have any moments alone with him.”

“We have our entire lives to spend together,” she said, smiling fondly at Reo. “And I haven’t seen you in years. Of course I want to go with you!”

“If you say so,” you said.

“We’ll meet you there,” Reo said, walking towards the first car waiting in the pickup lane of the hotel, Ryosuke following after him. You and May waited for them to drive off and the second car to pull up before you, too, exited the hotel lobby and got into the backseat together.

“Alright, now that those two are gone, let’s get to the real stuff,” May said, rubbing her hands together.

“What real stuff?” you said. She beamed.

“I want to know what’s up with you!” she said.

“I always text you whenever something happens,” you said. “So you’re pretty much all caught up. Not that there’s really much to catch up on.”

“Why haven’t you picked a wedding day?” she said.

“It’s always straight to the point with you, isn’t it?” you said. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel ready to get married yet.”

“You’re the one who’s holding back?” she said.

“I’ve always been the one holding back,” you reminded her. “Even when we were in college. If you’ll recall, he had to try quite a lot to get me to agree to go out with him.”

“That’s true, but now that the two of you are together, I would’ve said for sure that Mr. ‘I’m-Scared-of-Commitment’ would’ve been the one making a fuss about having to actually get married,” she said.

You almost caved. You almost opened your mouth and told her that it was because you resented Ryosuke, resented him as much if not more than you loved him, and you could not marry someone like that. But neither could you leave him, and so you were stuck in this strange, endless limbo, which you could not escape from nor meaningfully exist in.

“He’s happy,” you said. “He actually brought up choosing a date the other day. I’m the one who’s being weird about it.”

May made a noise of sympathy. “Why?”

You leaned your head against the tinted window, watching the familiar sights of your childhood flashing by, so different and yet still the same. That girl who you had been when you had lived here last…you wondered what she’d think of you now. Was this what she had imagined her life would look like one day?

You didn’t need to ponder it for very long. You knew the answer already — no.

“Why did you say yes when Reo asked you to marry him?” you said instead of responding, thinking back to the day he had proposed to her.

“Because saying yes meant spending the rest of my life with him,” she said.

“And that was something you wanted?” you pressed.

“Of course,” she said. “Even now, my life with him is so wonderful. I want to share as much of myself as I can with him. Isn’t it the same for you? Isn’t that why you said yes? After all, Kira proposed first. If anything, I should be asking you these questions.”

“I guess so,” you said. No. No, of course not. The thought of spending the rest of your life living like this was akin to an imprisonment. It was a great burden weighing down on you, but then again, it was better than the alternative, which was the reason why you still could not bring yourself to leave.

“I’m not judging you or anything,” May said. “And trust me, I could, but I’m not, because I really just want you to be happy. Are you?”

“Am I what?” you said.

“Happy,” she said. “When you were a kid, is this what you dreamt your life would look like?”

You laughed bitterly. “Of course not. People outgrow dreams, May. I was an idealistic girl when I was younger, and there’s no place in this world for that. I have a stable job and a fine home. I have a fiancé who does not mistreat me. I have a cat of my own and a friend who lives only minutes away. Maybe I’m not as happy as I could be, but I’m satisfied.”

“I see,” May said. “If that’s the way it is…I’m glad for you. After everything, you deserve it.”

You exhaled heavily, unsure of what to say. “Thank you.”

Reo and Ryosuke were waiting for you in the front of the mall, and you could not help but take notice of the marked difference between the two of them. Ryosuke was looking around, his lively eyes settling on every girl as they walked past, his posture inviting and casual. On the other hand, Reo was closed off to any approaches, entirely focused on scanning the entryway, craning his neck every time the doors opened in case the next person to walk through would be May.

Unfortunately for him, the people you entered behind were taller than both you and May, so you escaped his notice until the two of you were behind him and May was grinning devilishly. Abruptly, she placed her hands on his shoulders, shaking him back and forth as he shrieked in surprise.

“May!” he said, clutching his heart as he fought for breath. “You scared me. I thought I was being kidnapped.”

“Maybe you are,” she said. “Y/N, I’m holding your best friend for ransom. Give me lots of money and I’ll let him go!”

“No, thanks. You can keep him,” you said.

“Wow, Y/N,” Reo said, pretending to wipe away a tear. “It’s heartwarming how much you care about me.”

“Oh, you guys are here,” Ryosuke said, finally tuning into the conversation. “Took you long enough.”

The joking mood vanished immediately. Suddenly, you were a child again, your mother shaking her head at you in disapproval every time you did something wrong, your father sighing every time you asked him why he was upset, as if you should’ve known just from the way he looked at you what he was feeling.

“We had to make sure you got a taste of waiting, too,” May said before looping her arm through your own. “Though you really had no reason to. You boys can go do whatever, and Y/N and I will go through every single store together!”

“That’s not fair!” Reo said. “I want to help you guys shop.”

“I know, but don’t you think it would be rude to leave Kira on his own? Anyways, this way we can surprise you with what we get,” she said.

“Kira wants to go, though, right?” Reo said, turning to Ryosuke, his eyes wide and pleading. Ryosuke, who had been gazing at a girl as she laughed with her friends, jumped at the mention of his name.

“Huh? Nah, it’s okay. May will make sure she doesn’t buy anything hideous, won’t you, May?” he said. Out of his sight, Reo’s face crumpled, and you thought he genuinely might start sobbing. Reaching out, you patted him on the shoulder comfortingly.

“I would never let her walk around looking ugly,” May said. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s get started — this is a big mall, and we only have so much time before we have to meet back up with everyone for dinner.”

“Bye, guys,” Reo said forlornly, the tendons in his hand flexing, like he was considering reaching out and forcing you to stay back. He must’ve decided against it, though, as he only waved before trudging behind Ryosuke, giving you one last, desperate look over his shoulder before rounding the corner.

Surprisingly, you didn’t buy as much as you thought you might. Without Reo there to insist you and May try on half of every store’s merchandise, you both ended up spending more time making fun of the clothes you saw than anything.

“That sweater is so fucking ugly,” you said, pointing at a strangely posed mannequin. May pretended to gag.

“I think designers have this thing where they purposefully try to design the most horrendous clothes possible, and then, once they genuinely cannot look any worse, they put a brand name and a massive price tag on them and watch people go crazy,” she said. You giggled in agreement.

You had forgotten what it was like to have a friend like this. Your relationship with Chigiri was different — no less important, but different. Being with May was exactly what you needed to calm the turmoil of your mind, and for her part, May was happy to just spend time with you, even if your discussions were more superficial and silly than anything.

The restaurant that Reo had booked a reservation at was in a five-star hotel across town. It was an upscale place, and you spent the entire drive over fidgeting with your clothes, hoping that you were wearing something appropriate for the occasion.

“You look fine, seriously,” May reassured you as you got out of the car.

“Are you sure? I feel underdressed,” you said.

“I’m the same level of dressed as you, so if they’re going to judge you, they’re going to judge me, too,” she said. “We’re in this together. Feel better?”

“A little bit,” you said.

“Good. Excuse me, miss, but we have a reservation for five? Some of our party has arrived already,” she said.

“What’s the name?” the hostess said. She was pretty, with long, smooth hair and innocent features.

“Mikage,” she said. The hostess’s eyes widened, but to her credit, she did not otherwise freak out. Beckoning you to follow after her, she led you to the table where Reo and Ryosuke were sitting.

“Here you are,” she said. “Will the final member of your party be along shortly?”

Reo pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’ll be here at some point. Being on time isn’t exactly his strong suit. Knowing him, he’s probably asleep right now. Say, May, if he ends up being a no-show, does that mean I win the bet?”

May paled. “I’m calling him.”

“That’s cheating! May — May, that’s cheating, stop!” he said as May held her phone to her ear, waving him off.

“I already won the bet, so it’s not cheating if I’m just ensuring my victory remains secure,” she said.

“What are they talking about?” Ryosuke said to you.

“They made a bet about whether Reo’s best man will come to dinner tonight,” you said. “He agreed to earlier, which meant May won, but now he hasn’t shown up, so Reo’s gunning for a comeback victory.”

“Interesting,” Ryosuke said. “Aren’t you glad we’re not so childish?”

You looked at the plush carpet beneath your feet when you answered. “Yes.”

Ryosuke, who was sitting beside you, rubbed your thigh, clicking his tongue as Reo tried to grab May’s phone from her. She barely warded him off with one hand, holding the cell up to her ear with the other.

“Hello? Nagi?” she said. “Mhm, this is May. Yes. Yes, we’re all here. Oh, you’re on your way? Well, sorry, asshole, but you being so late has been more of a hassle for me than answering this call was for you. Okay. Yep. See you soon, I guess. I’ll tell him.”

She hung up with a sly smirk, poking Reo in the cheek. He hung his head in defeat, though of course, he was smiling the entire time, belying his true amusement. They never had any stakes for their bets, and this was on purpose: the competitions were just a silly way for them to liven up how mundane everyday existence could be.

“He was seriously already on his way?” he said.

“Yeah, and he wanted me to tell you to just order the appetizers already. He’s apparently so starved that he might die if he doesn’t eat within the next few minutes,” she said.

“For helping you win the bet instead of me, he deserves it. Traitor,” Reo said, though he waved the waitress over and began listing off the many appetizers he wanted for the table regardless.

“Looks like I’m finally going to get to meet the infamous Nagi,” Ryosuke said, giving the waitress a brilliant grin that forced a blush out of her as she scurried back to the kitchen.

“How do you know him?” you said.

“I’ve heard his name around,” he said. “Once or twice. There was that whole scandal a couple of years ago, too, don’t you remember? When he lost that game and then quit soccer for good?”

There was no way you couldn’t remember. That was the last time you had been back in Japan. You had been in this very town when it had happened, but despite your proximity, you had never found out the reason for it all. You had never understood why he had done it. But, then again, there were so many things about him that you had never understood, so it wasn’t a shock. To you, he would always be an enigma, and one you had no interest in unraveling anymore, to boot.

It was a few minutes later that he walked in. You were dimly aware of Reo high-fiving May in congratulations, never one to be capable of even pretending to stay angry for very long, and also of Ryosuke straightening his back in interest at the newcomer, but none of these things could hold your attention when it was Seishiro Nagi standing in front of you.

He looked almost the same as he had when you saw him last. His pale hair was still kept in the same messy style, though it was soaked for some reason, water dripping down the strands and splashing onto his cheeks. He still wore that same sleepy expression, though something sparked in his dove-colored eyes when they met yours. His shirt was wet, too, the fabric clinging to his muscular body as he draped his jacket over the back of his chair and sat down across from you.

“It was raining,” he said by way of explanation, and though he was speaking to everyone, you could tell he was waiting for your reaction, specifically. You pursed your lips and avoided his heavy stare as best as you could.

“You’re so dumb. Why didn’t you just use an umbrella?” Reo said with a groan, reaching over May’s lap to hand him a napkin.

“Don’t like them,” he said, accepting the napkin and using it to dry off his hair, giving him the frazzled appearance of a mad scientist. “It’s too much work carrying them around.”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, wanting to say something but finding yourself completely unable to. Thankfully, Ryosuke spoke up, leaning forward with an uncharacteristic interest.

“The falcon of the field,” he said. Nagi’s face was impassive at the mention of his old nickname, from back when he was still one of the top players in the league. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

“Who are you?” Nagi said, pulling out his phone — you were impressed he had lasted so long without it — and began to play a game that, judging by the movement of his fingers, was either Candy Crush or some variant of it.

“Ryosuke Kira.” This earned him a grunt from the clearly uninterested Nagi. “You went to high school with Y/N, right?”

Nagi glanced up at him. “Yeah.”

“I’m her fiancé,” Ryosuke said, wrapping his arm around you in a way that implied possession more than affection. “We got engaged a few years ago.”

“That’s great, man,” Nagi said, returning to his game. “Congratulations.”

“I’m lucky. She’s really the perfect girl,” Ryosuke said.

“Mhm,” Nagi said. His phone vibrated, indicating he had cleared another level. A smile flickered across his face. He was like that, you remembered. Never happier than when he had won a game.

“Ryosuke, stop,” you said. “He doesn’t care.”

“I’m just trying to be friendly,” Ryosuke said. “What about you, Nagi? Anyone special waiting for you back at home?”

Nagi’s phone let out a sad sound. You could picture the screen, the mournful characters and the swirling font, which would read something along the lines of You Ran Out of Moves! He frowned, clicking to restart the level.

“Nope,” he said.

“Wow, that’s a surprise. Well, don’t worry about it. It may seem hopeless now, but the right person will come along when you least expect it!” Ryosuke said.

“Probably not,” Nagi said. “Reo, I’m hungry. How much longer until the food gets here?”

“I’m not sure,” Reo said. “I’ll go speak with the waitress and ask her about the delay.”

“I’ll come with,” May said immediately, springing to her feet and dashing after Reo. You didn’t blame her — if you had a way to escape the awkward situation, you would’ve taken it in a heartbeat.

“Don’t be so pessimistic!” Ryosuke said, in what you were sure he thought was an encouraging tone. “It really does happen like that. Take Y/N, for example.”

“Or don’t,” you said.

“She had never even dated anyone before meeting me,” Ryosuke said. Nagi snorted.

“Really?” he said.

You kicked him under the table, your foot coming into contact with his shin as hard as you could manage. Unfortunately, it had all of the effect that a fly landing on him would’ve, as he only peered over his phone at you for an instant before returning to his game.

“Yup, and now we’re going to get married. All of that is to say we never know what’s going to happen and who we’re going to meet,” Ryosuke said. It was a speech that you might’ve found inspirational, if the circumstances were different. As it was, though, you could only sink down into your chair in embarrassment.

“Sure,” Nagi said. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“That’s the spirit. Who can tell? Maybe your future wife is sitting right in front of you!” Ryosuke said.

“Doubt it,” Nagi said. “Considering it’s your fiancée sitting right in front of me at the moment.”

You kicked him again. He blinked at you innocently. You glared at him, begging him to keep his mouth shut. Shrugging his shoulders only slightly, he set his phone to the side as Reo returned with the waitress, who murmured apologies — mostly to Ryosuke — and set your food down in front of you.

“Apparently, they had sent our food to the wrong table,” Reo said. “Go figure. Nagi, you had better not go on your phone while you eat, or else you’ll get bored of chewing and May will have to do the Heimlich on you again.”

Nagi, who had already put his phone face-down on the table, muttered rebelliously to himself but did not pick it up again, as per Reo’s directive. For her part, May inched her chair away from his, obviously not too keen on being volunteered as the resident Heimlich-maneuver-performer.

“Say, Y/N, I’m feeling a little full already,” Ryosuke said, pushing his plate towards you. “And I’m tired from earlier. Do you mind if I go back early?”

“Go ahead,” you said. “Do you want me to come?”

“No, no, I wouldn’t want to take away your time with your friends,” he said. It was then that you realized the hostess who had greeted you had left her station, presumably to change out of her uniform, and your shoulders slumped as you nodded.

“That’s good. I was actually going to ask if I could sleep at May and Reo’s, so it works out,” you said.

“Huh, what?” May said. “I’m alright with it as long as Reo is, but why?”

“For old times’ sake, I guess,” you said. “Although I’m sure just the closet alone at your house is twice the size of our old dorm room.”

“Probably,” she said. “Reo?”

You thought for a second that he might protest, but in fact, Reo actually looked like he might burst into tears of delight.

“Yes!” he said. “Of course — but on the condition that you let me finally talk to her for a bit!”

“Oh, sure,” May said.

“Then it’s a deal,” Reo said.

“That works out,” Ryosuke said, stooping over to press a kiss on your temple. “Now I won’t have to worry about how you get back.”

“Right,” you said, and you were so practiced that the lie came to your lips easily. “I’m glad.”

“I’ll go call the driver for you, Kira,” May said, excusing herself from the table and striding out of the restaurant. A few seconds later, Reo’s phone buzzed. He glanced down at it before groaning.

“Ugh, they keep doing this!” he said.

“What happened?” you said.

“Sometimes, people get it into their heads that just because May is from a different country and isn’t officially married to me yet, they can get away with treating her as less than a Mikage,” Reo said, standing up and pushing his chair in. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I need to fire. Come on, Kira; I’ll just drive you myself. Y/N, Nagi, will you be alright on your own for a bit? I’ll come back with May once we’ve dropped off Kira and she’s calmed down a bit.”

“No,” you said.

“Yes,” Nagi said at the same time, giving you a quizzical look. “It’s alright, Reo.”

“Be civil,” Reo ordered. “I’ll speed a lot, so it won’t be long.”

“See you tomorrow, babe,” Ryosuke said, kissing you again, this time on your lips.

“Ew,” Nagi said.

“Ah, excuse me?” Ryosuke said politely.

“You’re excused,” Nagi said.

“No, that’s not—” Ryosuke looked around for help, but of course none was forthcoming. “Never mind. Um, I’ll just go, then. Reo, do you mind if I stop in the bathroom first?”

“Whatever. I’m going to go check on May and yell at that driver, so meet us there,” Reo said, already storming off. He was so good-natured most of the time that it was easy to forget just how quick to anger he was as well. He had a fearsome temper that he had only recently learnt to control, and on the occasions it reared its head, someone almost always regretted their actions immensely.

As soon as the others were gone, you were unabashedly scowling at Nagi, who did not visibly react.

“Stop it,” you said.

“Stop what?” he said.

“Stop provoking my fiancé,” you said.

“I’m not provoking anyone,” he said, admiring the depths of his drink instead of looking at you. “That would take a lot of effort.”

“You are,” you said. “You keep saying these things that anyone could misinterpret!”

“Misinterpret?” he said. “Uh, you do know what that word means, right?”

“Nagi,” you hissed.

His mouth rearranged itself into a small pout. “The others are gone now. You can just call me Seishiro.”

“I’m being serious,” you said. He let out an aggravated sigh.

“No, you’re just being a hassle. Whatever. Call me Nagi, if that’s what you want. I’m still going to call you Y/N,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

“Very original,” he observed.

“Look, I don’t care what you do,” you said. “Just leave me out of it. I’m going to get married soon. I don’t need you acting odd and complicating things the way you always do.”

“I’m not acting odd,” he said. “You’re acting odd.”

“No, I am not!” you said.

“Yeah, you are,” he said. “Also, you suck at kicking. And your fiancé is a pain.”

“Maybe he is,” you said. “But at least he wants me.”

“Is that so?” he said. “I dunno. It looked like he wanted that waitress, too. And that hostess. And May. But I don’t think he’d go after her, because, y’know, Reo would be pretty mad, and he can definitely afford a better lawyer than Kira can if it comes down to it…”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said.

“Sure,” he said. “Fine. I don’t know anything. You know everything. This is such a pointless conversation.”

“I agree,” you said. “Let’s finish it. I promised Reo I’d get along with you for the sake of the wedding, but please, Nagi, I’m begging you…once it’s over, let’s just go back to being strangers. That’s the best way.”

“This is the first time I’ve seen you since you left,” he said. “You never once messaged me or called me. I thought you would apologize or something once we met again, but you’re not apologizing. You’re saying you want us to be strangers. Do you mean it was on purpose?”

“Of course it was on purpose,” you said. “What good would it have done for me to message you? To call you? It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“It would’ve,” he said quietly, picking up his phone again. “For me, it would’ve.”

“But I didn’t,” you said.

“You didn’t,” he agreed. He was playing Candy Crush again, but though he seemed entranced by the game, you knew he was listening to you still.

“Look, dwelling on the past doesn’t accomplish anything,” you said. “For better or worse, this is where our lives have led us. This is the culmination of all of our decisions. Okay? Stop pretending like any of it can change. It can’t.”

“Mhm,” he said. “Look. I cleared the level.”

He showed you his phone. Just as you had thought, he was playing Candy Crush, and true to his word, the characters were smiling and dancing on the screen, the congratulatory message written in a sweet, bubbly pink.

You Won!

For some reason, it didn’t feel like either of you had.

taglist (comment/send an ask to be added): @mariyumemi @naatggeo @prettyarsxnist

[calypsolemon]

okay let’s try and analyze anthy’s reactions during duels and why she sometimes is just completely still and other times she’s like “utena watch out!!” and other times she’s full on interfering. also how her relationship with utena and vice versa changes during the whole season

Lune you had no clue how much you were asking for when you sent this partway thru our watchthru lmaooo

I think the easiest question to answer here is "why she is completely still sometimes" and well it's that... most of the time she doesn't need to do anything. Anthy has been acting as the rose bride for what is clearly a looong time, and her "job" (her real job, as commanded by Akio, not what she presents to the duelists) essentially amounts to subtly manipulating people into projecting their desires onto her, so they will fight to own her. Usually, by the time they are at the arena clashing swords, Anthy has already done everything she needs to - the pawns are in place so to speak, she only needs to watch them play out their parts.

Beyond that, Anthy is generally emotionally disconnected from what goes on in the duels, despite the fact that they influence who she is going to have to live with. Though some duelists may, on a surface-level, treat Anthy better than others, and that might lead her to attempt to subtly push duels in her favor when she can, she ultimately sees her abuse at the hands of duelists as an inevitability, just another Thursday in the life of the Rose Bride. Therefore, apathy is the default Anthy emotion for any given duel.

So lets talk about the times when she is Very Much Not Apathetic

From the very first duel, she actually does express shock at Utena winning the duel with just a wooden sword. I will be honest, I dont actually put much weight onto this moment. I think its just sort of a natural reaction to someone so uninvested in either Anthy or the power she represents, winning the duel in such a dramatic way. I'm not even sure at this point she's clued in to Utena embodying Dios.

More notably, we have Miki's duel, which is the first true sign of mid-duel intervention by Anthy. By this point Utena has had an actual moment of "Dios coming down from the castle to possess her," which... depending on your reading means either Anthy, Akio, or both see some sort of potential in Utena. So she blatantly throws the duel for Miki by directly contrasting the idea of protecting her she's purposefully built up till this point.

The most notable reaction from the first arc, though, would be in the second duel against Touga.

This is after we get one of the only direct confirmations in this arc that Anthy is actually beginning to care for Utena; the scene where she is sitting alone, imagining Utena across from her at the table. In this moment, when Utena is fighting for her princely ideals despite the risk of actual death, Anthy is (for lack of a better term) triggered into recalling when Dios was gravely injured and still attempting to act as prince. And whether it is through the protective instincts of those memories, or just straight up being pulled out of concentration of what she's doing, it causes her to accidentally throw the duel for Touga, by rescinding her power from his sword.

So, we basically have two precedents set for Anthy reacting during duels: She sometimes consciously interferes as a strategic move, and she sometimes has a genuine emotional reaction, usually in relation to her memories of Dios being triggered and/or potential care for Utena. I don't actually think these two things are mutually exclusive, however, and they become muddled as we move into the Black Rose Arc.

Anthy definitely begins to be a lot more lively during these duels, from interacting with the objects on the tables, to giving Utena's sword the blessing, to yelling for her as she catches her mid-air. Is this because she genuinely cares for or is concerned about Utena? Is projecting Dios onto her? Or is it just because Utena winning is what is necessary for the duels to function? Maybe some combo of all? Who knows

The most notable Black Rose Duel reaction, to me personally, is when Anthy downright demands Utena pull the sword from her against Wakaba. Its very uncharacteristic of her, and I believe its because, despite the Black Rose Duels being something she has a hand in, she may genuinely be concerned for her own life here, as she has built up Wakaba to be actually, murderously jealous of her personally, and Utena is actively refusing to fight.

As we move into the final arcs of the show, we get one of the most blatant Anthy duel disruptions to date:

The sword of Dios disappears mid-battle, and instead of remembering Dios in the face of fighting against impossible odds, it is now Utena's words of friendship that spur her to jump in front of her, and draw her own sword from her chest. I really think this is one of the most significant mid-duel actions Anthy takes besides the final duel. It shows that Anthy's emotions are no longer being spurred on by simple relation back to Dios, but rather by the genuine care that Utena is showing her. Even if their relationship is about to be mired in turmoil thanks to Akio's interference, it was starting to become something real, and it was also starting to break down Anthy's carefully built walls.

I'm getting eepy and also this is getting long, so I'm going to stop the analysis train there. I could get into the final duel but quite frankly I think thats an essay in and of itself. Anthy's reactions during duels is really a fascinating topic and you could probably go on forever talking about it (just like everything else in this show)