#he is so down bad for her it’s borderline pathetic

[nakahras]

i ran out of tag room but this installment was sooo good. the leak in her apt and then being brought to dazai’s AND MORE CHUUYA AND DAZAI BANTER EEEEEEEEE

ᡣ𐭩 FIRST LIGHT

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai severely overestimated his self-control. it takes approximately six days and thirteen hours for him to break, seeking you out again. when he does, he knows that nothing will ever be the same. {wordcount: 14.5k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART TWOOOOOOO, we have one of my fav parallels in this one, i know you guys will catch it immediately but u still must tell me when you do. also, there's another hint about badlands!reader & dazai's relationship in this chapter that happened after the events of the last installment so u must let me know if you catch that too. reblogs are always appreciated! thank you guys & i hope you guys love this as much as i enjoyed writing it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. + we have a bit more of unhinged thought processes on dazai's end. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings!

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

He understands now the temptation that Eve must have felt in the Garden of Eden with the forbidden fruit dangling right in front of her face. Traditional interpretation of the Bible places the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden on day six of creation; Dazai’s restraint has thus far rivaled that of the two Biblical figures. He’s on day six now, in fact; it’s been exactly six days, twelve hours and forty six minutes since he met you in the hallway of the club and each passing second has been more agonizing than the last. 

He isn’t sure how much longer he’s going to last. 

His office is dark and suffocating, the atmosphere so cold and unwelcoming that it has him craving the return to your warm and homely apartment so intensely that he thinks it might be making him sick. He turned off the light earlier when he felt a migraine coming on, hoping that the darkness would let his eyes and mind rest enough to catch it before it fully came on, but he’s realized that it probably wasn’t the light causing his headache, rather it was you.

He sighs as he tilts his head back, willing the migraine to go away even though he knows it's to no avail. But he can’t even rest his eyes in peace, because every time they slide shut, the image of you burns the inside of his eyelids—your soft gaze and bright smile, the way you held your hand out to take his and the way your lashes fluttered as you leaned into his touch. 

Six days, twelve hours and forty seven minutes. 

He thinks he would prefer the nightmares of his other lives to this. At least with those, they fuel his drive to press forward with his master plan, the reminder of your fates in the other worlds would scorch away any desire to seek you out in fear of bringing it upon you again in this one.

Now, every night for the past six days he’s been plagued with dreams of you—pleasant dreams. Dreams that when he wakes from them, he finds his cheeks wet and his chest heavy with such an intense longing for you that it makes him physically ill. He dreams of having you in his arms, kissing the top of your head as you do your best to study even with him making every effort to distract you. He dreams of watching sunrises with you, seeing the way the early morning colors wash over your face, your skin glowing and eyes glittering in such a vivid way that Dazai swears he can even picture it now. He dreams of a ring, and he dreams of his palms sweating as he walks with you down to the beach you met on to watch another sunrise, and he dreams of getting down on one knee in front of you just as the sun breaks over the horizon. He never dreams of a wedding, so Dazai theorizes that you never made it long enough for one to take place. 

And the realization of that alone should be enough to make the yearning for you evaporate but it’s not, because dangerous thoughts have been circulating through his head since the night he left you. Thoughts of how maybe this could be different. Dazai is the boss of the Port Mafia in this life, he has enough resources to protect you—more money than god and enough armed forces behind him to rival the nation’s government. He has the power to keep you safe in this life, more than he ever had in any other. 

If there was any life that he could be with you and ensure your safety, it’s this one. 

Six days, twelve hours and forty nine minutes.

Does he really want to give this up?

Dazai rests his arms on his desk, lowering his head down, eyes sliding shut again. He can see you again, the image of you from last week, laughing wildly at something he’d said—he can’t even remember what it was, he was so nervous that he can’t even recall half of the night, but he doesn’t really care at all what he said anyway, too enraptured by the way you react to it. 

He wonders if you’re there now. At the bar. Because what he does remember, of course, is your teasing grin as you tell him that of course, you’re scheming out a second meeting between the two of you because naturally you’ve decided that you already like him. And he remembers the hope thinly veiled behind your eyes, as you look over him, knowing that if the two of you are to meet again, it would be reliant on whether or not he decides to come back to the club, because you’ve already made your intentions clear.

Six days, twelve hours and fifty minutes.

Dazai’s throat feels swollen, his nails dig into his palms. He imagines you waiting there, he imagines the disappointment on your face as you slowly realize he’s not going to show up. And you’re so damn beautiful, radiant even beneath the shitty lighting of the club—he’s sure you saved a seat at the bar for him, and you’ve probably had dozens of interested men who’ve offered to buy you drinks, asking if you’d come to the club alone. And you’ll probably turn them down at first, telling them that you’re waiting on someone, but he wonders how long it’ll take for you to finally take one of them up on their offer after you’ve realized that Dazai isn’t going to show. He wonders if you’ll follow them out to the dance floor, he wonders if you’ll give them the same teasing smile you gave him. He can picture slim fingers caressing your hips, pulling you closer. He can picture your lashes fluttering as they lean their head down to ghost their lips against your neck, swaying to the music. He doesn’t want to picture anything else, but his mind, as always, betrays him. 

He wonders if you’ll take them back to your apartment—would you get right into it or would you sit and talk with them for a while? His head spins as his thoughts take an increasingly more dangerous spiral. It’s a bitter cold night out, maybe you’ll take the opportunity to make them the hot chocolate you’ve made him hundreds of times, thousands of times before—no, he corrects as the lines start to blur in a treacherous way, you’ve never made it for him in this life. Maybe it’s so cold out that you’d forgo small talk altogether, instead seeking out the warmth of someone else’s body—you’d take them by the hand, lead them into your bedroom and lay them back on your bed. 

Would you be gentle with them? Like you were with him? No, he reminds himself again, you’ve never been with him like that, not in this life. The pages of the Book pile around him, memories flooding him with an intensity that he’s never experienced before; he can hardly even remember what his reality is, all of the others blending and shifting together in his mind, making it impossible to decipher the lines between them. 

You’re dragging him to the beach to watch your first sunrise with him and you’re telling him that you want to see as many as possible with him—he wants to tell you that he thinks he might love you but he doesn’t know how to say it  You’re laying him back against a bed, asking him if he trusts you—of course, he does, how is that even a question? You’re leaning your head against his arm, standing before a familiar grave and accepting him for all that he is even after he strips bare down to all of the worst parts of himself for you—you shouldn’t, he wants to say desperately, but instead he’s telling you that he loves you, even though he knows it might kill you. And then-

And then he’s ripped violently from his fall into the pages of the Book as his phone vibrates and it’s not him anymore, it’s someone else, someone unworthy and undeserving, a stranger that you’d turned to because Dazai wasn’t there.

Dazai nearly heaves. He never should have indulged in you that night. He should have known he was never going to go back to normal after it. The difference between the memories and actually having seen you and heard you and touched you and smelt you was so much more severe than he ever could have expected. Now, the memories aren’t enough; he wants a life with you, he wants it to be his reality. He thinks that it’s not fair that he’s the only one who can’t be with you. He wants to make new memories with you so he no longer has to struggle with the blurred lines, so he doesn’t have to yearn for a life that he’ll never be able to experience, having to watch every single other Dazai get to have what he can’t.

Six days, twelve hours and fifty eight minutes.

He can do it, his thoughts are a bit manic as he tries to ground himself after the spiral. He has the knowledge. He has the power. He has the resources. If there’s any life that he’s able to be with you and keep you safe, it’s this one. He doesn’t have to hide from you, he doesn’t have to deny himself of you to protect you—he has the knowledge, he has the power, he has the resources. He can keep you safe. Instead of being the only Dazai who never gets to be with you, he’ll be the only Dazai who can actually spend his life with you—a long one, a happy one. He’ll have what none of them did. He can do it.  

Before he can stop himself, he speaks.

“Gin-chan,” Dazai calls softly, knowing that he doesn’t have to speak any louder for the girl to hear him. As soon as he hears the door to the backroom open, he continues with, “Have Albatross be ready downstairs with one of the cars.” 

“Of course. Where to, sir?” 

To Gin’s credit, she doesn’t sound at all caught off guard by Dazai’s sudden request, as if it’s normal for Dazai to randomly decide to leave the Port Mafia base even though he can count on one hand the number of times he’s left the base since he ascended to the position of boss four years earlier. 

“... The club we own in Naka,” Dazai says after a few moments, fingers thrumming against the mahogany of his desk for a moment before he adds, “... Don’t tell Chuuya.”

“... Yes, sir. I’ll have Albatross get everything ready immediately.”

At exactly six days and thirteen hours, Dazai’s self-control shatters. 

You sigh. 

The seat next to you remains damningly empty despite the many attempts of handsome strangers trying to join you at the bar. You’re sure you must’ve turned down half a dozen by now in hopes that the stranger from last Friday will end up showing up but those hopes are very quickly disappearing. You want to convince yourself that maybe you’ve just missed him—it’s a rather large club, after all—but it’s not half as packed as it was last week; you think that if he were here, you would’ve spotted him by now. Or he would have spotted you.  

Dazai Osamu, you remember his name, eyes sliding shut briefly as you take a sip of your water, wondering if you should just switch to alcohol and drink your sorrows away, seek out one of the men who’d approached you already so you don’t end up spending the night alone. The thought leaves you unsatisfied, a pout rising to your lips around the rim of your glass as you finish off yet another glass of water. 

You swear that you’re not usually this pathetic—especially not over a man—but there’s just something about this Dazai Osamu that has you acting up. Like honestly, who even are you? Going to the club alone on a Friday night with nothing but some faint hopes that the man you’d met here last week would show up too? It’s so embarrassing, you think you might die—but somehow you’re not embarrassed enough to leave because you’re still hoping that he shows up. 

God, you think again, who are you anymore? You barely even know this man. You know his name and you know he’s handsome. And that’s just about it, but here you are, sitting bummed at a club because he isn’t showing even though he has absolutely no reason to. 

The bartender raises his eyebrows with a small smile and you pass the glass over to him, letting him refill it. He’s the same one from last week and he recognized you as soon as you took a seat at the bar, making sure to get you what you need and keep you company whenever there’s a lull in patrons flagging him down. It’s a stark contrast from the treatment that you got early in the night last week, where it had taken you twenty minutes to get a single drink and even then you could barely hold his attention long enough to tell him what you wanted. You can’t help but notice that he seems hyperaware of the open seat next to you.

As the bartender passes you another glass of water, you flash him a wavering smile, unconsciously sparing another awkward glance to the empty seat next to you. While the club isn’t quite as packed as it was last week, it’s not exactly empty and you’re starting to feel bad hoarding the seat when plenty of others probably want to sit down too. 

“I’m sure he’ll show,” the bartender tells you before he’s waved down by another patron. You wonder if he’s guessed who you’re waiting for or if it’s just meant to be some general comfort. “Probably just running late, he’s a busy man.”

Oh, you think, eyes widening, but before you can question him as to what he means, he’s rushing to go refill the drink of a blonde man on the opposite end of the bar.

A busy man. 

Who are you, Dazai Osamu? 

Even in your drunken state, you knew from the moment you met him that there was something off about him. The way he held himself, the way he looked at you, the way people treated him—it all screamed danger. Once you’d sobered up, you remembered all of the things you didn’t notice while you’d been intoxicated. You remembered the way people would rush to get out of his way or show him complete deference, eyes a bit wide and faces a bit pale. You remembered the way Takeda looked sick and scared when Dazai told him to go, and Takeda is usually a bull-headed and fearless man, it takes a lot to make him back down. You remembered his driver—he had a driver!—and how when he stepped out of the car to open the door for the two of you, you swore you caught a glint of gunmetal holstered at his waist before Dazai gave him a cold look and he quickly covered it up.

And you’re not usually a girl who seeks danger out, for as much as you went on your spiel about living life on the edge the last time you spoke to him, you’re usually a pretty careful person. If you were smart, you would have woken up the next morning and pretended that you were too drunk to remember the night before, forget all about Dazai Osamu and his dangerous smile and intense gaze. 

But you aren’t smart, evidently, because instead of forgetting about him, you spent half of the next day mourning because he didn’t even leave you his number and the other half of it scheming out the best way of running into him again. 

You sigh, resting your cheek on your hand as you prop your elbow up on the bartop, idly tracing the rim of your glass.

What is it about you, Dazai?

One meeting and you’re captivated. He must be some kind of witch, or siren, there’s no other explanation for how you’re so utterly enchanted by him. He spoke your name with the familiarity of a lover, watching you with gentle eyes even though they become cold and empty whenever they avert to someone other than you. And you—you felt as if you’ve known him your entire life. You’ve never had such an instant connection with someone like that before, you’re convinced that it’s fate at work, even if he’s adamant against the thought.

You want to see him again. You wonder if it was maybe just your drunken brain misconstruing things, although somehow you doubt it. You need to talk to him again to know if the connection is real, and if it’s real-

“Is this seat taken?”

At first, the voice doesn’t register as familiar, so you let out a soft puff of air, trying to figure out if you should deny another person. But as you turn to face the newcomer, your eyes widen a bit as you catch sight of the long, burgundy scarf hanging in your peripheral, stark against a long, sleek black suit jacket.

Your lips part in shock, head snapping to the side so you can fully look at the person to your left. Dazai Osamu stands there, hands resting comfortably in the pockets of his jacket, head tilted to the side, a small smile curving at his lips and a soft look in his eye as he looks down at you, comforting and warm compared to the cold emptiness you vaguely noticed from him at certain points last night.

You try to say no, it’s not taken, but no words leave your lips, so instead, you shake your head, eyes following Dazai as he takes a seat next to you at the bar. The bartender rushes over, all but abandoning the couple he’d been helping on the opposite side of the bar, pouring Dazai an expensive glass of whiskey and giving him a nod before going back to who he’d been helping before. Your eyes follow the man curiously before you turn your gaze back to Dazai, not speaking for a moment as you observe the way he stares down at the glass of whiskey for a second, the warmth in his eye slowly dissipating.

You don’t like it, and not because it makes you uncomfortable or anything, but rather because you just don’t like how alone he seems. So, you lean forward, smiling, and say, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Dazai turns his gaze back to you and the warmth returns, pools of honey rather than the endless void. You melt beneath it. 

“I vaguely remember a beautiful woman mentioning scheming out a second meeting,” Dazai drawls, dark eye lidded as he looks down at you, a half-smile decorating his face. “It would be quite remiss of me to be the cause of her failure.”

Your cheeks feel a bit a hot as you grin down at your drink. “While we’re on the topic of things I may or may not have said last week, I have to be honest with you. I totally lied about something,” you say with a laugh, leaning on the bar. He raises his eyebrow curiously. You give him a sheepish smile as you continue with, “I have absolutely no idea how to charm someone, drunk or sober, I was entirely speaking out of my ass, so keep your expectations low.”

The smile that curls to the corner of his lips is soft enough to make your heart skip a beat. “I think you just being yourself is plenty charming,” he murmurs.

You let out a noise caught between a groan and a whimper, face going hot. “Oh my god, you’re the charmer,” you accuse loudly, burying your face in your arms. “I’ll never survive. Handsome and charming, a deadly combination.”

As you peer your eyes open to look at him, you can’t help but notice the way his smile briefly falters at your words. You promptly decide to change the subject with: “Thank you for making sure I got home safely last week.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” he says, one pale, lithe finger tracing along the rim of his glass. Your eyes linger for a moment on the digit, mind wandering, before you force your gaze up; you can see the bandages peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his dark coat as your eyes drag his arm back to his face. There’s a knowing expression on his face, the smile on his lips a bit more sensual. Your breath catches as you avert your gaze, feeling quite like you’ve just been caught doing something bad.

“Sure I do,” you try to make the words sound casual and easy but despite your most sincere attempts, your voice is strained. “Not many people would go out of their way like that for someone they just met.”

Something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. You’re not sure what he finds amusing, but you decide you don’t care because you very much prefer it to the distant look that had been painted in them before.

“An unfortunate world we live in, then,” he says softly, but there’s a lilt to his tone that makes you feel like he knows something that you don’t. He doesn’t give you much time to dwell on it though as he asks, “Are you going to have anything to drink?”

You startle slightly at the question, glancing down at the glass of water you’re drinking before you tell him with a laugh, “I don’t know if I want to force you to deal with me drunk twice. Didn’t I promise I’d stay sober this time?”

“If I remember correctly, you only said ‘not quite as drunk,’” he says, lips tilting up a bit and god, the way he’s looking at you has you flustered, gaze lidded and intense, as if you’re the only one in the room and not in a club with hundreds of other people. “Let me order you something, I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh, that’s bold,” you warn, tossing him a teasing smile. “I'm very particular about my drinks, I’ll have you know. I’m almost curious what you have in mind that makes you so confident.”

“I have a good feeling about it,” Dazai says, tilting his head to the side as he waits for your decision.

You give a heavy sigh, pretending like it’s a difficult decision even though you know it’s not. “Fine, but only if you promise to cut me off after two. Whenever I hit three, I hit the floor.”

You extend your pinky toward him, waiting for him to take it, and when he does, you swear a jolt of electricity shoots up your arm. As he wraps his finger around yours, your heart skips a beat, your eyes meet his and you think you might get lost in the dark pools, you don’t think you would mind if you do and that scares you. You’ve never had someone make your heart flutter and mind haze like this, especially not so quickly.

“Promise,” he breathes out, barely audible above the thundering music and crowds. 

You dip your head down to press your lips against your thumb to seal the deal, and you think you fall even more when you don’t have to tell him to do the same, following your lead and kissing his own thumb to seal it. And you briefly wonder if this man might be your soulmate because he didn’t give you a single odd look and didn't hesitate for a second whereas when you’ve made pinky promises with some of your other friends and past partners, their expression always twists a bit in confusion or oddity at the second part.

Rather than letting go of your hand, he swaps to his other hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and resting it on your lap before he flags the bartender down—quite easily, might you add—and leans over the bartop to say something quietly to him. The man nods and rushes off, and you give Dazai a scandalized look as he turns his attention back to you, hyper aware of the warmth of his fingers against yours.

“You won’t even tell me what it is?” you gasp in mock offense. 

Dazai rests his other elbow on the bar top, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you through his lashes. You couldn’t drag your gaze away if you wanted to, tunneled onto him.

“It’s a surprise,” he says with a smile. “You’ll like it, trust me.”

“Quite confident for someone that hardly knows me, aren’t you, Dazai?” you giggle, raising your hand to cover your lips, and god, he looks so amused again, and so handsome. You might die. “That’ll be for me to judge.”

“Very confident,” he agrees, and you think he winks but you can’t tell because one of his eyes is covered by bandages. 

“So,” you begin, waiting for the drink. “You’re from around here then?”

You hope he is, at least, because you’d like to keep seeing him. Something about him is just so intoxicating, like a drug you just can’t get enough of. You think he must be, from the way he seems so familiar with the bartender and other patrons, but you could always be wrong.

You hope you’re not wrong.

“Mhm,” Dazai agrees, humming around the rim of his glass as he takes another sip. You hope the excitement you feel doesn’t flash across your face. “Yokohama born and raised… you?” 

Distantly, a part of you feels like the question is just an afterthought, as though he already knows the answer and you wonder if you’re that obvious, but you pay no mind to that, instead nodding. “Same,” you say, and then, “... I wonder if we have crossed paths before then. You’re so familiar, I can’t imagine that we’ve never met before… Maybe uni? Did you happen to go to UTokyo? I graduated there last year.”

Dazai seems to hesitate at the question, as if considering his answer. You wonder why, but he leaves you little time to figure it out because he finally replies, “No… I was in Tokyo for business for a while a couple years ago though.”

Your eyes light up. “Really?” you ask, leaning forward as you speak. “Where did you work? I know the area pretty well.”

He hesitates again, this time more blatantly, and you can see the confliction that briefly flashes across his face. How curious. 

“It wasn’t a particular storefront, or anything, just my line of work had me in the area for a while.”

You’re about to press into what his line of work is, desperate to know more about the man sitting in front of you, but you’re interrupted by the bartender returning with a martini so stunning that if it tastes half as good as it looks, you might fall in love. 

But you’re not going to make it that easy. 

“Go on,” Dazai says, leaning a bit back in his seat as he watches. He looks at you as if he already knows that you’re going to like it and you’re adamant on destroying his assumptions, you will hate this drink if it’s the last thing you do. “Tell me what you think.”

You lift the martini glass up to your lips carefully, the dark liquid so close to the brim that you’re nervous it will spill over the sides. He watches you expectantly, you pointedly hold his gaze as you take a sip of the drink and-

“Oh my god.”

Dazai looks utterly vindicated, raising his chin as you take a sip of the drink and stare at it in shock. It’s so… tasty. It’s creamy, and sweet, and you can hardly taste the alcohol but you can feel the tingle on your tongue and the light burn in your throat. All thoughts of the conversation you were having before the drink showed up disappear, and you’re focused solely on the glass in your hands and the man before you.

“So?” God, he’s evil. He almost purrs the word, as if he knows exactly what your response is going to be. He leans forward a bit, looking down at you through his lashes. “Give me the verdict, Your Honor.”

“It’s good,” you say, raising your chin in spite, hoping that your expression doesn’t betray but from the way his lips spread into a wider smile, you fear that you completely failed. 

“Just good?” Dazai croons. 

You pause for a second, debating on lying and telling him yes, just good, but the words you intend on speaking do not leave your lips. Rather, you say, “Okay. It may or may not be one of the best drinks I’ve had in a while. You have to tell me what it is so I know what to ask for.”

“Hmm.” Dazai lifts a finger to his chin, as if considering your words. “I don’t think I will.”

“What!”

His smile becomes a bit softer, his expression more teasing. “I think I’ll hold that information hostage, so you have to come out with me again if you want to drink it.”

A jittery feeling spreads through your chest, heart fluttering, cheeks hot. “Oh? Look who’s scheming out our third meeting already,” you taunt lightly. “How the tables turn.”

“Of course, I’m scheming out our third meeting, maybe our fourth and fifth too,” he mimics your words from last week shamelessly. “I’ve decided I already like you, bella.”

The pet name rolls off his tongue easily, as if it’s second nature to him, and your face is on fire but Dazai looks like he’s shocked even at himself. You fumble with your words for just a second, it takes you a moment too long to recover but you think that Dazai doesn’t even notice in his stunned state. 

You decide to return fire. 

“I hope all of our dates aren’t just going to be at clubs,” you tell him with a smile that edges on flirtatious, cocking your head to the left.

Your words hardly register until you notice that his cheeks have become bright and rosy, hand instinctively coming up to hide his face. He looks entirely like he’s at a loss for words, lips parting and closing several times. It’s so endearing that you think you might really die now, but then the gravity of your words hit you like a train.  

Oh god. A date? A date?? This is only the second time you’ve met, that was way too soon. You-

“I’ll make sure the next place we meet is somewhere special,” he finally says, voice smooth and gaze gentle and- 

And just like that, you’re a goner.

You’re not sure how long you sit there talking to him. Hours, probably. It feels like no time at all and forever all at once. You lose yourself in his gaze, and his smile, and you think the whole world could be burning around the two of you and you’d have no idea just because you’re so tunnel visioned on him. The music drowns out, and all you can hear is his voice. The people around you blur out of focus, and all you can see is him. 

It’s insane, you think. You’ve never felt like this with anyone before. You’ve had so many flings and so many boyfriends over the years, but the way your stomach twists and turns and the way your head feels fuzzy with Dazai is so incomparable to how you felt with anyone else. 

You feel like you’ve known him forever. 

You feel like you’ve only just met him. 

How is it possible to feel like you know someone you’ve only just met so intimately? When you know you don’t actually know much about him personally but it still feels like you can read into the depths of his soul?

God, you don’t know, but you do know one thing, and it’s that you never want to lose this feeling. 

And that’s how it began. 

Every Friday for weeks, you find yourself at the club, sipping cheap martinis at the bar until a certain handsome man in a dark suit decides to finally grace you with his presence. Sometimes, the two of you would just sit at the club’s bar until the sun threatens to rise, when you finally go your separate ways and you make your way back to your apartment, falling asleep with a smile on your face and waking up with a giddy feeling still sparkling in your chest. Other times, he only comes by the club to pick you up, fulfilling his promise of making sure to take you somewhere nice when you find yourself fine dining at the fanciest rooftop restaurants in the city. 

He never stays over your place, even when he does drop you off. Sometimes he’ll hang around for an hour (you made him your favorite hot chocolate, he liked it so much that he nearly cried although he vehemently denied that was the reason why his eye got all misty), but he always leaves. You try not to let it bum you out, convincing yourself that it’s just because he doesn’t want to keep his driver waiting (albatross, you remember his name, he’s funny. you like him), but sometimes you can’t help the heavy feeling set over you when he makes his abrupt leave, wishing for just a bit more. He hasn’t even kissed you yet, for god’s sake. 

You also distantly note that you don’t really know much about him, even after all of these weeks his personal life remains a mystery to you. The closest you were able to get to prying anything out of him was when he showed up so late that you were on the verge of leaving because you doubted he would even show, he apologized and said a work meeting ran late. You asked him what about and he hesitated, as if he was about to say it, but then gave you some vague response and steered the conversation to something less personal.

That’s what’s happened every time you try to learn a bit more about him. You don’t really notice it in the moment because he’s smooth and charming about it, but he always manages to turn the conversation to you or some other general topic. You want to respect that he doesn’t want to talk about his personal life because maybe he’s coming to you to have some sort of escape from it, but you also want to know him beyond just the flirting over drinks and the slim things you can gleam from his reactions, words hidden between the lines of what he actually says.

Your friends think you’re crazy. They think he’s bad news. They’ve come with you to the club a few times to wait with you until he shows up and every time they see him you can see the weary looks that they shoot at one another. You don’t care what they think—or well, that’s a lie, you do care what they think, you’re just too enamored with Dazai for their words to have any weight. Which probably should be concerning, but that’s something for you to think about another day. 

Because now, you’re focused on him again. He’s been talking more tonight than he usually does—most nights, he’ll spend the majority of the time just listening to you, a soft smile on his face and a captivated look in his eye, but tonight, he’s been rather vocal, people watching with you and making sly advances that you think is just plain cruel considering he hasn’t even kissed you yet. 

But tonight, you’ve decided, will be the night. 

You’ve been trying to figure out how to go about it, if you should just invite him back to your apartment—something you’ve done before, so there shouldn’t be any nerves but you still find yourself wavering because you don’t know how you’re going to proceed once you get to your apartment. You are not a seducer. You have no experience in seducing. In fact, you are usually the one being seduced. So every time your lips part to ask if he wants to leave the club, you find yourself withering and faltering, waiting for a ‘better’ chance as if one will magically arise.

It does. 

It’s when a fight breaks out on the dancefloor a bit too close to where you’re sitting, certainly the result of some sleazy man trying to put his hands on a woman who already has a date, when you finally force yourself to stop pussying out. You let out a shriek as you stumble forward off your barstool when one of the men careens a bit too closely to you, and it’s only by Dazai’s swift reaction, arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you to him and steadies you, that you don’t go toppling onto the floor. 

Your eyes widen as you watch the fight escalate, a bit entertained now that you’re safe in his arms from becoming collateral damage, but Dazai looks distinctly unimpressed by the scene taking place a few feet away, lips twisted into a deep frown. You watch as he shoots a sharp look to one of the bouncers lingering by the door, and you note how the man immediately moves forward to break up the fight. Interesting. You’ve noticed that the people at the work tend to be respectful to him, but that’s the first time you’ve seen them seemingly take a silent order from him.

You steel your nerves and you decide to try your hand.

“Would you… maybe want to get out of here?”

You look nervous, Dazai watches you carefully as he leads you across the club to the exits, so he figures that there’s something else going on in your head right now. You’ve been quiet most of the night, he realizes, and he wonders if something is wrong. If something happened. His mind immediately catapults to the worst case scenario: that someone found out about the two of you, despite how careful he’s been in making sure that the places he’s brought you to were locked down by the Port Mafia before you arrived with him, and you’re being threatened.

His thoughts race. Albatross should still be waiting where Dazai left him, so if something goes wrong, he’ll be ready. Dazai glances at you again, and he slowly realizes that you don’t seem nervous because you’re fearful of something, and his anxieties slowly are edged away. 

But that only gives rise to new anxieties because then what’s making you so nervous then? What did you mean by get out of here? Do you want to go somewhere else? (but where, the longer he’s out in the open, the more of a risk there will be without him taking precautions beforehand like he usually does) Do you want to be dropped off back at your apartment? (that’s what he initially assumed, but he doesn’t want the night to end yet) Do you want to invite him to your apartment? (it wouldn’t be the first time, but it doesn’t leave him any less nervous. he’s terrified of making the wrong move) Do you want him to invite you to his apartment? (god, he hopes not)

The last option cannot happen. You’re already suspicious from the way the bartender and the other club patrons have been treating him the past few weeks, and now you’re doubly suspicious, Dazai can tell from the way your eyes squint as the bouncers at the entrance of the club nod their heads to him. If he brings you back to his place, the tallest of the five towers making up the Port Mafia base, there’s no way you won’t put together that something’s up with him and the last thing he wants is to scare you away. Even if you don’t know what the buildings are exactly, you’ll definitely question him about his occupation, go back to the dangerous line of questioning you’ve been treading on lately, and when he can’t give you a straight answer, it’ll become all the more apparent that it’s something shady and if you’re smart, you’ll make an excuse to leave and then never seek him out again.

Realistically, he probably won’t be able to hide this from you for long, but it just has to be long enough for him to woo you so the news isn’t so jarring that it makes you cut off all contact with him. Although, Dazai isn’t sure if any amount of time will make the knowledge that he’s a mafia boss not jarring enough to flee. His heart feels a bit heavy, wondering if this is all a mistake because how the hell is he supposed to just accept it when you inevitably decide to leave? And isn’t that what he should want, anyway? He wants you to keep yourself safe, no matter what the cost, and if you’re the one to cut him off, then he won’t be tempted to come looking for you again. He can protect you from the distance as he initially planned with the memory of the nights he’s spent with you pushing him forward. So maybe this is for the best.

You accepted all of the other Dazais, the traitorous part of his mind tried to convince himself that isn’t a hopeless cause, even though he knows that there’s a stark difference between who he is in this lifetime, the face of Japan’s underworld, drenched in blood and rotting from the inside out, and who he was in all of the other lifetimes, desperately trying to make himself a better man so that Odasaku would be proud of him. 

Maybe you’ll understand, he thinks weakly as the two of you leave the club. It’s drizzling now, and his eyes cut across the parking lot looking for Albatross, but his thoughts are lost—you understanding would mean he would have to tell you everything. He can’t do that. Not just because you would probably think he’s delusional, or psychotic, but because it would put the very fabric of this reality at risk. He can’t tell more people than necessary and stage five… 

His plan. 

Dazai’s gaze shifts back over to you, the sudden remembrance of what he’s been planning since he came in contact with the Book so many years ago spreading like ice through him. He should take you by the hand and lead you to the car, the rain is going to start coming down harder any second now, but Dazai is frozen because in his manic state, when he’d decided he can protect you in this life, be with you in this life, he hadn’t even given any thought to what would become of his plan, and he’s been so consumed by thoughts of you the past few weeks that it’s hardly crossed his mind.

He has to force himself to move forward, ignoring the way his mind is reeling—if he decides to live, what does that mean for Odasaku? For Atsushi and Akutagawa and Chuuya? For the world? Would he be condemning everything he’s worked to protect? He still thinks he can do it—protect you, that is—but would it be at the cost of everything else? He feels sick, trying to figure out if he’s going to have to plot out a whole new plan, as if this one hadn’t taken him years to come up with and implement. 

But you don’t move to follow him to the car where Albatross is waiting when he steps forward. Instead, you tilt your head up to the sky, lashes fluttering as rain begins to drizzle down from the dark sky. 

And Dazai’s spiraling thoughts halt. 

He thinks you look beautiful—you’re always beautiful, but he thinks there’s something magical about the picture of the small smile on your lips as rain drops slide across the smooth skin of your face. He tries to force himself to look away so he doesn’t seem creepy staring at you, but he can’t bring himself to.

You don’t seem to mind though, because you turn your attention to him, eyes lit up in a way that makes his heart race. “Dance with me,” you say suddenly, holding a hand out to him, the soft smile on your face is a bit mischievous now.

Dazai looks down at you, raising his eyebrows. “Here?” he asks, voice tainted with a hint of incredulity. “Now?”

“Mhm,” you say, unperturbed, holding your hand out more insistently. 

Dazai thinks he isn’t capable of denying you much of anything, but he can’t help but hesitate. Not because he doesn’t want to dance with you—he would sell what’s left of his wretched soul for just a single dance with you—but because the longer he’s out in the open, the more of a chance there might be an assassination attempt on him. Every time he goes out, he’s gambling his life. It would put you in danger, and it’s not like he brought Chuuya along for if something goes wrong. Albatross is capable enough, but his ability is not combat centric. 

Being seen with you in general could put you in danger, doubts begin to sprinkle through his head again, his heart lodged in his throat as remembers that Fyodor Dostoevsky and Agatha Christie aren’t the only threats to your life. He’s been as careful as he could be but even with all of the precautions in the world, there are still risks. He’s made new enemies in this lifetime, hundreds of them over the years, and if any one of them caught wind of you and his apparent attraction to you…

“If you wanted to dance, shouldn’t we have done that inside?” Dazai drawls instead, trying to play it off. Inside, where it’s significantly safer. Inside, where Dazai knows that there’s less of a chance of unsavory eyes falling upon the two of you because the club is owned by the Port Mafia and everyone let in is screened. Inside, where Dazai can still convince himself that he has the power to keep you safe. You’re entirely unbothered by his question, so he continues before you can shoot him down, “Where it’s not raining, and where there’s actually music.” 

“Haven’t you seen all of the romance movies?” you complain, smile widening. “Dancing in the rain is romantic, Dazai. Who needs music anyway? C’mon, dance with me.”

And how is Dazai supposed to say no to you when you look at him like that? Eyes wide and imploring, smile gentle—you look at him in a way that Dazai’s only dreamed of, and he knows that he’s a goner. Well, he’s known since he first met you, but it’s being made abundantly more clear right now with the way his heart, which he usually has such keen control over, beats rapidly in his chest. His lips part because he still wants to try to deny you—for your sake, not his—but no words leave them.

You don’t wait for his response anyway, hand darting out to catch his so you can drag him out into the parking lot. His eyes widen, stumbling forward and trying to catch his balance—you only laugh, intertwining your fingers with his while your other hand finds his waist, spinning the two of you in a reckless circle. 

“Keep up!” you tell him with a smile that causes his breath to catch. 

Dazai thinks he might die. His head feels fuzzy as you lead him in a wide ballroom dance, sweeping across the vacant parking lot with ease. He thinks he must look like a fool being dragged along in your dance like a puppet, hardly able to keep himself from tripping over his own feet. 

He’s not sure how you’re able to keep yourself so graceful, heels splashing in puddles as you lead him through spins and turns and pivots, but Dazai thinks you’re beautiful. Again. Extraordinarily so, even. Rain is pouring down over the two of you, the drizzle quickly becoming torrential, and your hair is wet and matted to your face, mascara a bit smeared underneath your eyes, but you’re laughing, and Dazai thinks you’re divine. Heavenly. Too ethereal to be tainted by the likes of him and yet here he is, the putrid skin of his fingers intertwined with your untarnished ones. You raise your arm and his, beckoning for him to twirl beneath it.

He does, and it’s awkward and clumsy because he’s too tall to comfortably perform the move, but you giggle loudly so it makes up for the embarrassment. And for a moment, Dazai can almost convince himself that this isn’t a life where he’s been forced to let the dark consume him for the betterment of the world; rather, it’s a world where he’s gone unsullied by the dark, his blood still runs red and you’re beautiful and you’re alive, and he’s just a boy who’s fallen so terribly in love with a girl so far out of his league that he thinks he might be dreaming when you return his interest. As he spins, he notices that his cheeks feel a bit strained and sore, and he realizes that there’s a smile on his face that matches your own, the muscles of his cheeks and jaw unused to stretching in such a manner and he hopes, anxiously, that it doesn’t look quite as unbearable as it feels.

If it does look unnatural, you don’t seem to mind. The rain blurs his vision and he’s forced to blink away the raindrops that keep falling into his eye, and for a split second, you’re standing before him in a pretty red dress on a sidewalk, and he’s the one leading you in the theatrical dance, dipping you down as lightning webs across the sky above the two of you, and he’s about to beg you for a kiss, he knows it but then-

He’s drawn out of his thoughts when you pull your hand back from his, but you don’t give him time to mourn the loss of your touch because then you’re slipping your arms around his neck, loose and casual. You’re pressed up close to him, chest brushing his and head tilted back so you can look up at him—a slower dance, swaying to the music of the wind and rain—and Dazai can hardly breathe. You’re so close. So close that he could kiss you if he wanted to. God, he wants to. He’s wanted to for weeks but every time he tries to gather the nerve to do it, he backs out.

“Where’d you go?” you ask softly, and he can barely hear you as thunder rumbles in the distance, brows furrowed in confusion, unsure of what you mean. You tap his temple twice gently, “Left me for a second there.” 

Oh, his throat feels a bit dry, realizing that you must’ve noticed when he started to slip back into the pages of the Book. Terrifying. Beautiful and terrifying, that’s what you are, if you can read him that well after meeting him once a week for a few weeks, he dreads to know how well you’d be able to read him once you start spending more and more time with him. But would it be so bad? To have someone that knows him so profoundly? He’s so alone all the damn time in this world, and you’re giving him a taste of a life where maybe he wouldn’t have to be. It’s terrifying. Tempting. He forces another smile onto his lips, and this time your eyes narrow, as if you know this one isn’t as genuine as the last. 

“How rude of me,” he murmurs, lifting his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He’s so close, he realizes again, hyper aware of the way his lips are almost brushing yours. He could kiss you if he wanted, he repeats, and he wants so badly but he doesn’t want to scare you away. “To leave behind such fine company.”

You don’t look content with his apparent attempt at avoiding the subject, and Dazai’s throat feels tight because it’s not really a conversation to have with you here. Now. Ever, really. 

For once, mother nature appears to be on his side, because before you can press on the subject, lightning strikes dangerously close to where the two of you are standing, making you jump, eyes wide. He takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, guiding you over to where he left Albatross earlier in the night. 

The car is already running, Albatross is leaning back in the seat scrolling on the phone and Dazai nearly commits an atrocity when he sees that the man has his gun laying haphazardly on the dashboard. As if Albatross can feel Dazai’s murderous intent, he looks up from his phone and his eyes shoot open when he sees you with Dazai and he scrambles to holster his gun back at his waist. 

Luckily, you don’t notice. Or maybe unluckily, because your attention is still fixated on him and Dazai is not ready to have that discussion with you because how the hell is he supposed to say “Sorry! Lost in some worlds that don’t exist, and just so you know, we almost got married in some of them! And just so you know, I got you killed in all of them!”

Yeah. That would go over well. 

Instead, he opens the door to the car for you, letting you hop in the backseat. He follows after. Albatross slides his glasses to the bridge of his nose, an unscrupulous smile on his face that instantly has Dazai suspicious. He hopes the man knows that no friendship with Chuuya will save him if he decides to purposely embarrass Dazai in front of you. 

“You’re back!” You recognize Albatross immediately, a smile spreading across your face at the sight of him. Dazai is almost jealous until he remembers that you’re still holding his hand. “You weren’t driving last time.”

Right. Because of the raid on one of the Scarlet Gang’s warehouses in Tokyo. A mission that Dazai definitely should have been more available for on the off chance that something went wrong, but he was far too busy indulging in you. In his defense, he had no doubts that the mission would go according to plan—the Scarlet Gang is dangerous, yes, and Kawabata is a force to be reckoned with, but he’s simply not Dazai.  

“D’aw, didn’t think you’d recognize me, doll,” Albatross grins, tossing you a wink. “Good to see you again too. You’re significantly more sober tonight, aren’t you?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow a bit at the pet name, but he’s more focused on the way you throw your face into your hands with a groan, reminded of just how drunk you’d been the last time Albatross was playing chauffeur. You’re a messy drunk, he remembers fondly, he doesn’t remember ever seeing you drink in any of his other lives with you, and he feels a bit giddy at the thought that he gets to experience a side of you that the others never did. Even if he was spending half of the night holding your hair back while you threw your guts up, spluttering apologies through sobs and heaves. He would do it again. Without even the slightest hesitation, he would do it again. 

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” you ask, peeking one eye between your fingers to look at Dazai for confirmation. 

Dazai doesn’t even have the chance to assure you that no, you weren’t that bad, because Albatross is speaking again. Of course. 

“You were pretty damn bad, doll,” he grins, and you groan even louder, leaning your body over to rest your head on Dazai’s bicep. Dazai’s heart nearly leaps out of his throat. “S’alright though, boss took care of you.” 

“Did he?” you ask with a teasing smile, eyes glittering as you look up at Dazai, who suddenly feels a bit embarrassed, but Albatross rescues him. 

Maybe he does deserve the vacation he’s been bitching about wanting. 

“Where to?” Albatross asks, putting the car in gear, gaze flickering between you and Dazai briefly. 

Dazai is about to tell him your apartment when he catches the sudden apprehension on your face. He hesitates and waits for you to say whatever you want to say, but you don’t, instead you let out a puff of air and let your eyes slide shut. 

“Where do you want to go?” Dazai asks you.

You still look uncertain, but then you finally say, “I was meaning to stop and get some groceries at the convenience store on the way home. There’s one a few blocks away from my apartment. I can just walk over there if you drop me off at my place though, it’s fine.”

As if. The idea of you walking anywhere so late at night makes his skin crawl, especially considering there’s been a rise of violent crimes in the city that the Mafia has yet to get a handle on. He needs to push for that to be taken care of if he has to worry about you leaving your apartment to wander around so late. He makes a note to himself to bring it up to Chuuya later. 

“We can stop there on the way there. It’s no trouble.”

Albatross gives him a look, as if he’s asking if the boss of the Port Mafia is really about to go grocery shopping with a civilian in the middle of the night, forcing the Mafia’s best getaway driver to be their chauffeur. Dazai only gives him a cold, sharp look in return—if you need groceries, then they’ll stop for groceries. Simple as that. In a life where Dazai thought he’d never even be able to look at you, the chance of doing mundane chores like grocery shopping with you is not something he’ll just pass by. 

He can pretend to be normal. If only for a little longer. 

Until he has to go back to the base, and his lungs are clogged with corrupted air, being slowly suffocated by his surroundings.

Until you figure out who he is, and he’s alone again, being consumed by the void in his chest once more. 

He hardly considers the fact that he’s going somewhere with you where his subordinates haven’t made extensive efforts to ensure that no one suspicious is around to see the two of you. 

“Alrighty,” Albatross agrees, backing down as soon as he sees the expression on Dazai’s face. “To the convenience store.”

Your eyes brighten, a smile lights up your face. “Thanks,” you say relieved, and Dazai wants to say that you don’t ever have to thank him for everything and that he’d give you the entire world if given the chance, but he thinks that might be a bit weird so instead he settles on just giving you a small smile. “I’ll make you the best hot chocolate of your life when we get to my apartment. Just wait.” 

Dazai’s chest feels warm. “I don’t doubt it.”

“Wait here,” you tell both Dazai and Albatross as Albatross pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex and stops the car outside of your building. Dazai, who’d been about to follow you, pauses from where he’s ducking beneath the doorframe to step out of the car, looking at you and waiting for an explanation. “... My apartment is a mess… I, um, wasn’t expecting company. Let me just… tidy up before you come in. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Dazai’s visible eye crinkles up in amusement as he sits back down in the backseat of the car and you immediately take off up toward the steps leading up to the second floor of your apartment, giddy and excited, grocery bag swinging and bumping against your hip as you make your way quickly up the steps. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You feel like a schoolgirl dealing with her first real crush, flustered and giggly, hardly able to hold a conversation without stuttering over your words. 

He’s just so… you don’t know how to describe it. Intense. But intense isn’t even the right word, because he’s not so intense that it makes you uncomfortable or overwhelmed, and that’s usually what you think of when someone is intense. Or maybe overwhelmed is a bit fitting, because you swear every time he sets his soft gaze down on you, your heart might leap out of your chest. Intense. Familiar, you don’t know how it’s possible to feel like you’ve known someone you’ve only met a few times your entire life.

Your fingers fumble as you try to unlock your door. One, two, three, it takes three attempts for you to finally slide the key into the lock, pushing open your door and stepping inside, free from the torrential rain and wild wind outside.

You sigh and rest your back against the door as you shut it behind you, eyes sliding shut. 

Who are you, Dazai Osamu?

Someone important. 

Of course, you noticed how he was treated by the workers of the club—the bartender, the bouncers, even just the regular patrons. The restaurants he’s brought you to the past few weeks, they all treated him the same way. There were plenty of men there that were dressed in expensive clothes and held themselves highly, but none were treated the same way Dazai was.

Someone dangerous. 

You’d also caught a glimpse of the gun on the dash of Albatross’s car. (His driver, another point to note because who has a driver except very important people) Only three types of people have guns in Japan—military, police, and criminals, and you’re pretty sure he’s not part of the military or police force…

Someone you probably shouldn’t be so drawn to.

That should be enough to make you run. It really should be. You have no explanation or excuse for why you’re not besides the fact that you might not be as smart as you herald yourself to be. You shouldn’t feel giddy when he smiles softly at you, you should be nervous. You shouldn’t be longing for his touch, you should be avoiding it. Instead, you’re leaning against your door, smiling like an idiot after making him wait for you to clean up your apartment so you don’t embarrass yourself. 

Oh, you’re such a fool. But how could you not be with how he treats you? Tucking hair behind your ear, setting a gaze so soft on you that you think it might make your heart stop, dancing with you in the rain clumsily with rosy cheeks and wide eyes. How is it possible for you to reconcile the way the man acts with you to the way others treat him? Or maybe that’s just delusion speaking. It could be, honestly. You think if your brother was living with you, he’d be horrified, might lock you away for the rest of your life; you think your friends already want to put you in a psych ward and they’d only become all the more insistent if they knew half of the things you’ve noticed. 

But your brother left you and your friends don’t know, so nothing is stopping you from making what might be a terrible decision. 

You let out a breath as you push yourself off the door, placing down your grocery bags on the table by your door so you can scramble to pick up all of the stray clothes you’d tossed around your apartment as you frantically tried to find an outfit earlier in the night. You reach over to turn on your light, flicking the switch once, then twice, and then three times.

No way.

You sigh deeply, head falling back against the wood door of your apartment, knocking the back of your head against it twice in frustration. Letting out a irate puff of air, you push yourself off of the door and force yourself to get to work. It’s not the end of the world, hopefully it'll come back soon, the providers are usually quick with getting the outages fixed, even in your shitty area. 

You force yourself to move forward, frowning deeply as you scoop up all of the paperwork spread out on your coffee table, making sure to keep it all in order as you move them over to the desk you have by your window seat. You drop the pile down and cast your gaze out to all of the clothes strewn haphazardly around your apartment, cursing yourself for having been so messy earlier when you were trying on just about every outfit you own and then flinging them around frustrated when you decided they weren’t good enough.

You scowl as you bend down to pick them all up, deciding you’ll just stuff them messily in your closet and fold them later when you don’t have company. As you zoom around trying to snag all of the dresses and different pairs of bras and underwear scattered about, your mind races. Your stove should still work because your landlord refuses to install any modern appliances into your apartment, for better or for worse, so you have an old model that shouldn’t be affected by the outage. But you think it’ll be awkward sitting in the dark, you think you have a few candles stored away in your room—you’ll have to find them and set them up. 

Candlelit evening, how romantic! you think to yourself, a bit dreamily. You wonder if Albatross will be coming up to join the two of you in your apartment, you’d offered to make him a drink too but you figure it’ll be Dazai’s decision if he’ll be waiting outside or…

Or maybe, he’ll send him home. 

You get giddy at the thought—candlelights, slightly tipsy after a night out, you take a peek under your dress to try to figure out which underwear you’d decided on earlier and if you should change into a different pair but are delighted when you realize that you’d gone with your pretty red ones. 

You think he’ll like them. 

Hopefully. 

You like them, they’re your favorites.

Oh, you have to clean your bedroom too, you think to yourself in partial agony because you don’t know how the hell you’re going to clean up everything in there without making Dazai wait out there for an hour. You get anxious at the thought, worrying that if you take too long, he might leave, so you pick up the pace. You snatch the last stray bra hanging on the arm of your couch before taking off into your bedroom.

You hardly get a step into the room before you’re freezing in your tracks.

No way.

You stare at your bed, arms falling loose to your side, lips parted in shock. The clothes you’d cleaned up all drop aimlessly to the floor around you. Your bed is drenched with water—your sheets soaked, your mattress soaked, the ceiling heavy with rainwater from a leak you didn’t know you had.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out to yourself, unsure of what exactly you should do, never having had a problem like this before.

You think this is what you get, seeking out the cheapest possible apartment complex to stay in because you’re trying to save all of the money you have for school. Now, your mattress is ruined, your ceiling looks like it’s on the verge of collapse and oh my god, you left your laptop on your bed. 

A noise caught between a whimper and cry of frustration leaves your lips as you dive forward, fishing your laptop out of the massive pool of water flooding your bed. You hold it in front of your face between two fingers, watching as water drips from it down to the ground. 

There goes your laptop too.

You think you might be sick. 

Now, you have to deal with a landlord who is decidedly not helpful when it comes to issues in the complex and you have nowhere to sleep. Maybe you can call one of your friends to stay at their place, but it’s already the middle of the night and you know two of them have their own entrance exams tomorrow for the programs that they’re applying to.

Unless…

Your gaze shifts to the window in your room, looking between the blinds to see Dazai and Albatross still waiting outside in their car. 

Okay. Most urgent problem temporarily fixed. Maybe.

Dazai has a place. He has to. He’s clearly rich. It’s probably a much nicer place than yours too. You can go there, at least for the night. He wouldn’t just leave you with nowhere to go… right? No, of course he wouldn’t. You need to pack then, instead of cleaning. 

Okay, this is fine. 

It’s fine. 

It takes you about five minutes to grab a few spare pairs of clothes into the duffle bag laying at your bedroom door, occasionally tossing dirty looks at the leak ruining your bed. When you finish throwing your clothes in the duffle—unfolded and hastily, of course, they’ll be terribly wrinkled—you rise to your feet and swing the bag over your shoulder, making your way back to your door and grabbing your groceries. 

You don’t know what to say to him when you get back to the car. You’re probably being a bit presumptuous. Okay, a lot presumptuous—Dazai has never invited you back to his place, you’ve invited him to yours—but you don’t really have another choice.

You exhale as you step back into the rain, locking your apartment and making your way back down the steps to the complex’s parking lot. You don’t let yourself hesitate as you dart across the parking lot toward the car, fearing that if you take a second to actually think about what you’re doing—inviting yourself into someone else’s home!—you’ll probably back out.

You open the car door. You slide back inside, taking a seat behind the passenger seat. You drop your duffle bag on the floor between your feet and place your groceries back down between you and Dazai. You can feel both Dazai and Albatross staring at you. You stare ahead.

“... My apartment is flooded,” you finally say after a few moments.

Dazai doesn’t say anything, brows furrowing as he watches you. You can hardly bring yourself to look at him, trying to peek at him from the corner of your eye as best as you can without being too obvious about it. He’s not responding. Albatross isn’t moving the car. You’re getting the urge to bolt, to run upstairs and drown yourself in the puddle of water on your bed. 

Finally, Albatross clears his throat. “Boss?”

Dazai still doesn’t respond. You think you might be doubly sick now, and embarrassed. An awful combination, really. You know that he knows what you came back here hoping for, and you realize that he might just send you back to your flooded apartment instead because he obviously did not sign up for taking in some random girl that he’s met a few Fridays for the night because she has nowhere else to go. 

You finally turn your face to look at Dazai head on and you can feel that your eyes are glassy, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You don’t know how pathetic you must look for Dazai’s expression to shift the way it does, his conflicted expression crumbling as he turns away from you. You don’t want to know how pathetic you must look, you’d only feel even more humiliated.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai finally says: “Drive.”

Albatross��s eyes shoot open, he physically turns to look at Dazai, “But-”

You don’t catch the look that Dazai gives Albatross, too busy basking in the relief of having somewhere to stay for the night, but whatever it is, it makes Albatross turn back to face the wheel without another word, turning the car back on and shifting it into gear before pulling out of the parking lot. 

As soon as you’re on the move, you turn your attention back down to your phone, trying to figure out if you should message your landlord now or in the morning, dreading the inevitable argument you’re going to have with him. You fiddle with the device, occasionally sparing looks at Dazai, but the man is lost in thought next to you, visible eye distant and conflicted.

You can’t bring yourself to say anything so the whole drive to Dazai’s apartment is long and quiet. Even Albatross, who’s had no difficult sparking conversation the whole drive to your place, stays silent.

You’re bummed, all of the excitement you felt about bringing Dazai back to your place is long gone, feeling the stress of having to replace everything that’s been ruined by the leak and the anxiety of dealing with your landlord; all you want to do is sleep and die. Okay. That’s dramatic. But you’re exhausted and you really do want to sleep. Maybe not die, but definitely sleep. 

You lay your head against the window, eyes starting to droop shut, and you can feel Dazai glancing at you now but you can’t even bring yourself to look over at him. Instead, you keep your eyes trained outside the window, only perking up when Albatross finally starts slowing to a stop.

And then, you’re suddenly not tired at all. Your eyes widen as he pulls to the front of the tallest of the five black buildings that tower over the Naka ward, lips parting as you crane your head to look up out the window and then look pointedly back at Dazai, stunned.

Dazai refuses to meet your gaze, staring ahead. 

… You think that your instincts about this man must be spot on. 

Too bad you’re not listening to them.

“You’ve gone crazy.”

Dazai’s gaze draws up from the paperwork he’s definitely not doing, far too preoccupied with thoughts of you; it’s cold and cutting as it lands on Chuuya. His executive enters the room without any type of announcement, his voice just as cold as Dazai’s expression—he supposes it’s testimony to how angry he is, because Chuuya is only frigid in his anger when he’s really been pushed to the brink.

Naturally, Dazai only smiles, a slow and taunting one that he knows presses all of Chuuya’s buttons from the way the man’s bicolored eyes flash with fury. Chuuya storms over to Dazai’s desk, making his way until he’s standing right in front of him. 

“How so?” Dazai drawls, folding his hands over his lap as he leans back in his chair, tilting his head to the side questioningly. 

“How so?” Chuuya spits out, slamming his hands down on Dazai’s desk. Dazai raises his eyebrows and then lifts his chin, looking pointedly down to where Chuuya’s hands are splayed against his desk. Chuuya doesn’t flinch—of course he doesn’t, he’s Chuuya—but he does pull his hands back to himself, albeit snarling as he does it. “The hell are you bringing some random woman back to our base? Back to your room? Going out alone the past few weeks when you know you’ve got a bounty on your head higher than most world leaders? I was letting it slide but this is too far, why the hell is she here? You’ve gone crazy, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Careful, Chuuya,” Dazai warns, voice quiet, expression growing a bit flinty when he brings you up. Dazai doesn’t care if Chuuya wants to rail on him for being reckless, but he’s not allowed to drag you into it. He decides to not acknowledge the comment about you, focusing on the end of his tirade, “I was with one of the Flags, I wasn’t alone.”

“Albatross isn’t cut out for that type of combat and you know it,” Chuuya snaps, glaring at Dazai. “If one of those bounty hunters came after you, you both would’ve been killed. What’s gotten into you? Never took you for the type to be this reckless. You get a taste of a woman’s c-”

“I said careful, Chuuya. Know your place,” Dazai repeats, voice icy. The warning is gone, only a threat remains—Chuuya doesn’t need to finish his sentence for Dazai to know where he was going with it, the way the man’s eyes darted over to Dazai’s bedroom was more than enough to confirm it. 

“Is this a goddamn joke to you?” Chuuya asks, keeping his voice low, his lips flat and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t get it. You’ve always been so careful, more than anyone else. What the hell does one random woman have that’s making you risk all of this?” 

“I’m not risking anything,” Dazai tells him coolly, “and she’s not just some random woman.”

Chuuya’s expression shifts, brows furrowing deeper; Dazai can see the tiny cogs working behind his eyes as he thinks. He wonders if Chuuya has been drinking tonight, catching the pink hue to his cheeks and the hazy look coating his eyes. 

No wonder he’s so angry then, Dazai muses, he must have been out with Kouyou when he got word that Dazai left the base again without any protection detail and then brought someone up to his room who in Chuuya’s mind, could be an assassin for all he knows. 

Suddenly, the confusion clears and something closer to realization sweeps across Chuuya’s face. His gaze turns back pointedly in the direction of Dazai’s bedroom.

“That’s her,” Chuuya says, disbelief dripping from his tone. “The girl you’ve had Kouyou looking over for years. What the fuck, Dazai? I thought the whole point of having Kouyou look after her was so that you kept away from her.”

Dazai stares at Chuuya, only for a moment, because then his gaze drifts back to the door leading into his bedroom, mind drifting. He supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised that Kouyou told Chuuya about it—Dazai wasn’t explicit enough with his orders, only telling Kouyou to ensure that Dazai himself never knew anything about her. Of course, the woman would bring it up to Chuuya, probably hoping Chuuya had some insight into why Dazai is so insistent on your protection. 

Chuuya didn’t, of course, but he guesses that only made the topic of you and Dazai’s apparent random attachment to you even more of an interesting topic for their wine sessions. Honestly, he’s surprised that Chuuya didn’t realize earlier that the girl he’s been seeing is the one he’s had Kouyou assigned to. Kouyou surely should have known by now.

You’re fast asleep by now. He got lucky because of how exhausted you were over the stress of the whole situation: he didn’t have to deal with the questions that he was certain would arise as soon as you caught sight of the Port Mafia base. You were all but falling asleep on your feet as the two of you stood in the glass elevator leading up to Dazai’s apartment, the penthouse in the centermost of the five buildings consisting of the Port Mafia base. Dazai thought he was about to have a heart attack when you swayed on your feet and ended up resting your head on his bicep, eyes drooping shut. You only managed a few sleepy protests as he led you to his bedroom, asking where he was going to sleep if you take his room (the fact that you worry about him when you’re even on the brink of falling asleep on your feet made his fingers tingle), but you gave in quickly at his insistence. 

He should feel some sort of pity, or sympathy, because he could see the weariness in your eyes and the fatigue plaguing your body. Dazai might not be capable of feeling pity or sympathy for most people, but if he could feel it for anyone, it would be you. But he does not, and it’s for a selfish reason, of course: your misfortune led to you turning to him for help, and the thought of that alone makes his chest feel light and giddy. 

Yes, he’s going to have to figure out some sort of excuse tomorrow for when you wake up and inevitably have questions—he is not ready for you to know about his position in the Port Mafia—but right now you’re sleeping in his bed and you’re relying on him for help. His fingers thrum against his desk, jittery with excitement, he almost forgets Chuuya is there until he hears the man let out a sharp noise of disgust at Dazai's apparent exhilaration. 

Distantly, very distantly, he knows this is bad. You’ve been smart and observant in every universe, you’re going to put together that something is seriously wrong—you were not supposed to come back to his place, but how was he supposed to say no to you when you were looking at him with teary eyes and nowhere else to go? The thought itself feels like sacrilege. 

“You know what we are and what we do,” Chuuya says, voice calmer now as he shakes his head and fishes a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with his free hand before he turns to leave. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but you’re putting this girl in danger after the lengths you went to keep her safe. I don’t get it.”

He squints a bit as Chuuya’s words ring through his head. That’s what he had thought too, but he’s the last person to admit to Chuuya that he might be right. A cold feeling starts to set over him, spreading through his chest like ice. If he’s going to think about this realistically, you’re probably already in danger just from being around him. The likelihood of someone catching sight of the two of you the past few weeks is higher than he’s comfortable with, even with the precautions that he’s taken, especially with tonight outside the club and at the convenience store. The thought is terrifying, enough to immediately kill off the jittery excitement that had been running through his body. 

Dazai’s index finger traces the outline of his lips, his mind races. What does he do? If you’re in danger, he can’t just let you go back to your apartment and leave you undefended in a sketchier part of the city. His enemies will jump on it. They’ll target you. But he can’t just keep you here. It’ll be too risky, you’ll figure out who he is and what he does, and that’s not even considering the fact that maybe you won’t even want to stay. You might wake up in the morning and head to someone else’s place—you’d made a vague comment about not wanting to intrude and going to a friend’s house tomorrow but the thought makes his stomach twist a bit. 

God, he’s so conflicted. 

But the first thing to handle is making sure that you don’t go back to your apartment alone. The rest he can figure out later on—he has to decide if he’d rather try to keep you around the base and risk you figuring out what he does (god, he wants to keep you around) or if he should just send you off to a “friend’s” (he still stands by the fact that your ‘friends’ are shitty because what sort of friends leave their drunk friend alone at a bar with a stranger—even if he knows that he’d rather let the world burn than see harm come upon you, they don’t know that) with an extra protection detail. One that you wouldn’t know is there, naturally. 

But how does he make sure you don’t go back to your apartment after the leak is fixed? 

He thinks to himself, an idea coming to him swiftly. It’s a bit dark, yes, and he’s sure that if you knew, you’d run for the hills but… to keep you safe, he would do whatever it takes. Even if you’d hate him for it if you knew. 

But what you don’t know won’t hurt you. 

“Chuuya,” Dazai says before the man can leave his apartment. Chuuya stops dead in his tracks, not turning to look at Dazai, but waiting for whatever he has to say. “I’m going to text you the number of her landlord… make sure he doesn’t get her apartment fixed any time soon. And let Gin-chan know I might have a guest for the next few days so she’s not caught off guard tomorrow.”

Chuuya scoffs. “You’re a freak, Dazai.”

Dazai only smiles idly to himself, eyes sliding shut as he leans back in the chair at his desk, Chuuya leaves without another word, Dazai loses himself in thoughts of you. 

A freak? Yeah, maybe. In love? Definitely. 

Should he convince you to stay with him? The thought bounces around his head frantically. He doesn’t know the answer. The more careful part of him screams no, tells him that it’s too dangerous to keep you around. It’s dangerous for you, because the longer you’re around here, the more at risk you’ll be of getting hurt. It’s dangerous for him, because the longer you’re around here, the more at risk he’ll be of getting exposed,

But the less logical part of him, the one that’s consumed by the idea of you, and the chance he has of being with you, is much louder. 

You came to him, he reminds himself. You found him. He tried to be good. He did everything he could to stay away from you, but you still found him. And you chose to seek him out again. You chose to. It’s easier to blame it on you, convince himself that you brought this upon yourself, as if you had any idea what sort of sick and fucked up person Dazai really is, as if you have any idea what’s happened to you in every other universe because of him.

He can never go back to how he was living before meeting you; he can’t. 

You came to him. 

Why should he have to let you go now?

With that thought in mind, Dazai thinks the answer to his question is made abundantly clear. 

[ghoulphile]

i want this man to do gross, disrespectful, unspeakable, borderline illegal things to me

⭐ inbox | discord | ao3 ⭐ requests: temporarily closed | tag lists: open last updated | 6/6/24 notes | i'll update this post as i continue to write. fics will be 18+ unless stated otherwise ❤️ requests closed so i can catch up on the ones already submitted - will be opening up again soon!

🍒 sticky fingers the ghoul x reader one-shot | 18+

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.”

🍒 janey's dad cooper howard x reader two-shot, part one | 18+

“We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

🍒 run rabbit run the ghoul x reader drabble, request | 18+

the drabble thing HNNNGH think about coop calling you bunny from the start bc he clocked that you were always a down for it and you not getting it until he after you fuck for the first time

🍒 in the middle of the night the ghoul x reader drabble, request | 18+

Cooper watching you sleep. Its a quiet night. nothing but bugs passing by. Cooper keeps watching, and his mind wanders. cut to him "borrowing" your soft and smooth hand, pulling it from under your makeshift blanket and wrapping it on his dick, jacking himself with your hand bc he's bored/trying to pass the time/stay awake

🍒 wish you'd make me cry the ghoul x reader drabble, request | 18+

"You’re such a needy fucking brat." :3c

🍒 dog days pre-war cooper howard x reader fluff, request

I was wondering if you'd write something about maybe prewar/postwar (either one) cooper where his love is a bit sick (not life threateningly so ect) and he just takes good care of them

🍒 it's always the quiet ones pre-war cooper howard x reader drabble | 18+

We can see that Cooper tends to go for good girls but what if he ran into a seemingly innocent - or at the very least kind - person… but they dirty talk like a sinner in the sack?

🍒 no use cryin' over spilled milk the ghoul x reader one-shot | 18+

based off this ask; trying to survive topside after growing up in a vault is hard enough, but doing it five months pregnant? it's a good thing you find the ghoul when you do.

🍒 i can taste your skin in my teeth the ghoul x reader drabble request, wip | 18+

drabble request thingy: "you're so wet and I haven't even touched you" and/or "aww... you're pathetic" I feel like these go so well together in a very mean(super hot) way >:)

🍒 use me pre-war cooper howard x reader drabble request, wip | 18+

for the drabble request "I want to use you so fucking bad" with pre bomb coop?

🍒 don't threaten me with a good time the ghoul x reader request, wip | 18+

how do you think our ghoul would handle having a breeding kink?

🍒 in the collision of your kiss pre-war cooper howard x reader wip | 18+

"As I live and breathe, that's Cooper Howard! Why, he must've cost a fortune -- how ever did you get him to agree to attend a children's party?"

🍒 criminal tongues the ghoul x reader request, wip | 18+

Could I get and aggressive smut with coop like he hasn't had any in 200 something years ! Hes needy and wants it NOW

🍒 finders, keepers the ghoul x reader request, wip | 18+

Cooper wants people to know the reader is *his*, and she best damn well know it to. If she doesn't, he'll have to show her

🍒 god is a woman pre-war cooper howard x reader request, wip | 18+

If you don't mind of making cooper howard/the ghoul being submissive or treating reader like a goddess of a smut?

🍒 bury all your secrets in my skin the ghoul x reader request, wip | 18+

I was thinking how it would be to be the first to get him to take all his clothes off since the bombs fell. Being the first to get him to be vulnerable in this way. If you would write this I would be very grateful.

[writtenbymoonflower]

Hi! Do you think you could write fem!reader with poly!marauders and their first time having sex? If I’m making you uncomfortable let me know and I’ll apologize. Sorry if I sound weird I’m autistic and don’t know how to phrase things sometimes. Thank you.

hi hunny! you didn't make me uncomfortable at all and you worded this great! thank you for requesting!! fem!reader x poly!marauders

cw: explicit smut, slight d/s dynamic, swearing, everything is consensual obviously

1.7k words

The fact that you were the only one breathing heavily was a crime. It was pathetic, really. You felt borderline depraved, considering the innocence of the situation. Your head was in Sirius’ lap, his fingers nothing short of magical against your scalp. You could feel the slight vibration of his voice every time he spoke. Remus’ hand was lazily rubbing your bare thigh, occasionally dipping his fingers under the hem of your shorts, and you were praying that he couldn’t feel the growing heat in dangerous proximity to his hands. James was looking unfairly gorgeous for someone winding down for the night. He was fresh from the shower, his clean scent wafting over to you on the bed as he styled his hair in the mirror. 

You were tightly wound from months of tension. While there had been no shortage of heat-stoking intimacy and dizzying kisses leaving you whiny and breathy, it had always stopped of anything that would actually satisfy the growing beast in your core. And while you hoped you were successfully hiding how much it affected you, part of you wished they would notice it. You closed your eyes, taking a shaky breath. The boyish laughter in the background was not helping with your growing affliction. 

“Angel?” James chuckled, damp hair falling in front of his eyes. 

“Yeah?” You turned your head in Sirius’ lap. 

“We’ve been trying to get your attention, lovely.” James crawled on top of you, muscles shifting intricately under his white tank. You noticed how he was careful not to pile too much weight onto Sirius. He slid down, laying his head on your stomach and wrapped an arm around Remus, making the tall boy begrudgingly put his book down. 

“Oh, sorry. I was distracted.” You ran your hands through James’ hair. 

“Distracted?” Sirius drawled. He was trailing his fingers teasingly on your neck now. You repressed the urge to shiver. 

“Distracted.” You parroted back awkwardly. You couldn’t tell if the heat was from the amount of bodies crammed into the bed or the effect that they were having on you. James looked up at you with a playful grin. He reached a hand up to caress your cheek. His grin grew wider.

“Your face is warm, darling.” Mirth was dripping from his eyes. 

“Is it?” You swallowed hard. Sirius’ painted digits pressed into your jaw. He chuckled darkly at what he found.

“Her pulse is fucking hammering” His wicked fingers dipped under the collar of your shirt. 

“Oh,” Remus cooed, tone indicating that he didn’t feel that bad. “What’s the matter, dovey?” 

“Nothing.” You choked out, knowing that your body was completely betraying you. 

“I don’t know,” Sirius provoked. “I think it’s something. Don’t you, Prongs?” He moved to pet James’ head. 

“Oh, you’re definitely right.” James kissed your exposed collarbone. “C’mon, sweetheart. Talk to us.” 

You wanted to laugh. If they really wanted you to talk, couldn’t they make it a bit easier? You just groaned, hiding your face in Sirius’ thigh.

“No. None of that.” Remus gripped your chin to move your face, not letting you be shielded. “Use your words.” 

“You’re so mean.” You whined. 

“Aw, baby.” James cooed. “We’re just trying to help you. We can’t know what you want if you don’t tell us.” He slipped his hand under the hem of your shirt, gripping your waist lovingly. 

“You know what you’re doing.” You narrowed your eyes. You were trying to look intimidating but failing miserably. Remus turned your face towards his, capturing you in a kiss. You moaned against your will, arching your back up. All your muscles felt so tense, begging for release. Sirius kept stroking your hair. 

“Just tell us what’s wrong.” Sirius’ grin was all teeth when you looked up at him. 

“Gah.” You groaned in failure. “I don’t even know. I’m just so worked up and you’re not helping.” You pouted. 

“Aw, I’m sorry dove.” Remus clearly did not feel bad. “Want us to make it better?” 

You nodded rapidly, eyes wide. Remus cocked an eyebrow at you. “Yes, please. Make it better.” You all but begged. 

“Alright, baby dove.” Remus laughed. "We'll be nice." He kissed you again, moving over your cheeks and neck. James was kissing your chest, tugging the collar of your shirt down to expose more skin. You struggled to hold back wanton moans. 

“Can I lift this up, angel?” James tugged at your shirt, looking pointedly at your nipples peaking through your shirt. 

“Yes please.” 

He tugged you away from Sirius and Remus, though the boys didn’t complain. Sirius was tugging Remus up by his mousy hair to kiss him aggressively, while James lifted your shirt to your collarbone, exposing your chest to his ministrations. He grabbed at your breast with one hand, kissing over your nipple until you were dizzy. He then moved down, kissing lower and lower. 

“Christ, just get this shit off.” Sirius growled at you. He impatiently moved you to sit up, tugging your shirt off the rest of the way. “You too, Prongs.” 

His eyebrows flew up behind his glasses. “Someone’s demanding today.” He complied though, pulling his white undershirt off and flinging it somewhere across the room. Sirius just narrowed his eyes at James and tried to pull Remus back. 

“The two of you.” Remus shook his head disapprovingly but you could see the affection swirling in his irises. “Do I have to tell you what to do with your mouths?”

“I think I know exactly what to do with my mouth.” Sirius sassed, moving down to Remus' neck.

“I know what I want to do with my mouth.” James tugged at your shorts, looking up at you with huge pupils. You choked back a moan. 

“Is that okay with you, honey?” Remus asked you gently. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. Just say the word and we stop, okay?”

“I would like that.” You said, barely more than a whisper. James gave you another boyish grin and went back to kissing down your torso. 

“On second thought, I don't think I know what to do.” Sirius tested. He crawled off of the mattress, standing at the foot of the bed. He batted his lashes at Remus, clearly testing the tall boys patience. He stalked over to where Sirius was standing, looking down at him.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” He kissed him roughly before getting on his knees in front of him. Your attention was pulled back to the boy between your legs when you felt thick fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts. 

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” James waited for you to nod before he pulled them off. He crawled off the bed, pulling your ankles to tug you right to the end of the mattress. Your underwear was removed before he opened your legs wider. This situation was too much in the best way. James was kissing down to your waiting pussy, glasses being knocked up his nose and hair messy while you were being stared down by Sirius, who was close enough to massage your thigh while he was being sucked off, his moans ringing deliciously through your ears. 

James’ tongue met your clit, making you throw your head back in ecstasy. “Oh, shit.” You whined. He was gentle as he pleasured you, wiggling his tongue softly into your pussy, flicking up towards your swollen bead and then back down to your hole. Your thighs started to tense. You knew you were getting there embarrassingly fast, both from James’ expertise and the arousal that had been building in your body. You fought to close your legs around James' head, but he held fast, keeping you spread open for him.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” Sirius groaned. “You should fucking see yourself, babydoll.” He knotted his fingers in Remus’ fluffy hair, rutting his hips to chase his high. “Godammit.” He grunted, cumming down Remus’ throat. You hid behind your hands to protect yourself from his voyeuristic gaze.

When Remus got up, James pulled his lips off of your clit with a lewd popping sound, making you cry out. You bucked your hips back up, chasing for more pleasure. 

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart.” James chuckled, rubbing your hip comfortingly. He slipped two fingers into your pussy, curling them up. Remus' attention was now on you as he leant over you, kissing your neck. 

“How does her pussy taste, Prongs?” Sirius drawled, petting your thigh with a blissful look in his eyes. 

“So fucking good.” James kept his fingers working a perfect motion. 

“Alright, give me a try.” Sirius pulled James up impatiently. James brought his fingers up to the shorter boy’s mouth, the same fingers that were just inside you. Without hesitation Sirius sucked them into his mouth, moaning around the digits. You whined at the spectacle in front of you. 

“Christ, lads. She’s halfway to death over here.” Remus chuckled, palming at your breast. 

“Alright.” Sirius rolled his eyes, getting on his knees in front of you. “Are you gonna let me have a turn, sweet girl?” He pinched your side affectionately. 

“Yes please.” You moaned. 

Sirius laughed at you, pressing his face into your cunt. You almost screamed in ecstasy. He wasted no time with teasing, licking into you with vigorous hunger as his gray eyes bore into you. Remus and James moved to hold your legs apart, spreading you open completely before Sirius. “Fuck, such a sweet little pussy.” He groaned, before returning to his work. 

“That’s a good boy.” Remus groaned, putting his hand on the back of Sirius’ head to push him further into your cunt. “Y’ making her feel so good.” Sirius moaned into your pussy, doubling down. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” Your thighs shook hard, spasms flowing through your whole body. 

“That’s it, angel. Come for us.” James kissed your cheek. It didn’t take long to follow his directions, tumbling off the edge of pleasure. Your moans were shameless, slipping into incoherent whines when you got to be too sensitive. Sirius licked his fingers as he came up for air, face flushed and eyes starry. 

“Fuck, gorgeous. You’re killer.” He praised. Pleasurable embarrassment washed over you. You shut your legs, looking up at the three boys. 

“Are you okay, sweet girl?” Remus stroked your jaw, all feigned sternness void from his face. 

“I’m brain dead.” You giggled. 

“I think that’s a job well done then.” James grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth to adorn it with kisses. You looked between him and Remus, playful hesitancy written in your features. 

“What about you two?” You questioned. 

“You still got some steam in you?” James looked at you wide-eyed. You nodded. 

“Good, because I’m nowhere near done with you.” Remus opened your legs again.  

[princessbrunette]

hii i looove ur work. could u please write a blurb ab rafe being a soft dom to reader and talking her through it as shes like whining and crying cause his dicks just that big :(

-👛 anon? idk if that ones taken; if it is ill take either 👙or 🥂

ugh i love this <3 thank u for enjoying my stuff !!

rafe guiding you whilst you’re on top. he’s sat up against the headboard, one hand on your cheek and the other on your hips helping you— and god, from this angle he’s just so deep. you knew he was big, but some positions are borderline too much, convinced he was going to spear right through your stomach.

you drop your forehead onto his shoulder and he chases you with his mouth, tilting his head to try and get your lips back on his.

“c—can’t — s’just so much…” you whisper, whimpers falling from you uncontrollably.

“you can. s’alright, hey— doing a great job, okay? taking this dick so good sweetheart.”

the praise only makes you tense up, clenching hard around him which makes you collapse against him more, sucking in a harsh breath at the squeeze as you stomach flutters.

“relax, baby. m’right here. s’gonna hurt if you keep tensing up like that.” he rubs his hands over your back to try and soothe you and you wrap your arms around his neck, using it as leverage to try again, grinding down on his length making you moan. “shit… gonna make me blow my load, swear to god.” he groans.

“you’re so big.” you cry pathetically and it makes him smile, turning his head so he can look at you, pressing a wet kiss to your lips.

“taking it like a champ, kid.”

it’s safe to say you’re pretty much hypnotised for the rest of the week, letting him get away with just about anything. watching him walk around casually minding his business sends your mind reeling, often leaning against the counter with your chin in your palm, having flashbacks. even when he was in a bad mood you were smiley and docile, wondering how he can walk around with something so big in his pants?

[movidita]

18+ mdni

You aren’t entirely sure how you managed to get yourself in this predicament. Hands tied above you, secured tight to the creaking bunk bed, the metal frame rubbing against your wrists. Legs spread so far apart that it was starting to hurt.

The cool air of the prison cell causing goosebumps to rise all over your bare skin.

And the man between your legs, lapping at your swollen pussy like a starved man— like it was a five-star meal.

It’s been so long, you’d lost track of time now. The sheriff between your legs refusing to stop.

It was borderline torture. Tears were running down your cheeks, lips pressed into a soft pout as you pleaded with him.

“Please, Rick! Need to come so bad- I can’t-“ He immediately pulled his head up at your words.

Smirking at your worn out, trembling body, “Oh, you poor girl.” He stroked your tummy with his thumb, all gentle- taunting you, mocking you. “You can.”

His head dipped down again, placing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before his tongue was pressed flat against your weeping pussy. Swiping up to lap at your clit.

“Fuck! Please!”

He only sucked harder, taking his index finger to circle your hole. Not wasting a second before he shoved it inside of you.

“Rick!” You let out a pathetic whine. Too loud.

The man’s movements slowed momentarily but never stopped, “You need to be quiet, or you’ll wake everyone and I’ll leave.”

You immediately clamped your mouth shut, attempting to close your legs around his head but Rick is much stronger than you. Harshly holding them down on the worn out mattress, causing more tears to well up in your eyes.

Rick continued to kiss your clit and shove his fingers inside of you at a rapid pace. You knew you were at the brink of your orgasm, there was no way you’d be able to control it if he carried on.

“I can’t hold it anymore.” You cry, your orgasm ripping through you, juices flowing out, entire body shaking as you pant.

He pulls his fingers out, slowly, his head cocking up at you.

“Shit, fuck. I’m sorry, Rick. I’m sorry, I-“ Apologies spilled out of your mouth, you didn’t dare look at his face, knowing he would be incredibly angry at you for cumming without his permission. “I’m sorry!”

You were cut off by a sharp slap to your pussy. Making a squelchy wet sound when he lifts his hand.

“Fuckin’ slut! Did I say you could cum?” His head twists to the side, grabbing your jaw harshly- so harsh you think it might bruise.

Shaking your head, more tears drip down your chin as you babble like a pathetic little baby.

He delivers a painful slap to your cheek, hastily unbuckling the belt that was secured around your wrists and the bed frame.

Rick roughly flipped you over, ignoring your apologies and whines, shoving your face into the pillow and positioning your ass in the air.

You could hear the unzipping of his jeans from behind you, biting your lip as you stifled a cry.

“Rick, I’m sorry-“

You were cut off by his hand tangling in your hair and yanking your head up, his fingers swiftly burying themself in your mouth, a pointer and a middle finger pressing down on your tongue, making you gag.

“I’m gonna teach you the rules, alright? And your gonna listen and your gonna do what I say, okay?”

You manage to muster up enough energy to nod, despite his death grip on your hair, lips wrapping around his fingers and giving a harsh suck.

“Little whore like you needs to learn her place, learn that she can’t do what she wants. That she listens to me.”

You could almost come again at just his words. It was humiliating, even more so now that he could see the arousal dripping from you, dripping down your thigh.

[fanficshiddles]

No Other Option, One Shot

Thank you for the prompt, roruna: I just really need President Loki being an arrogant irresistible bastard. He's just the worst and I wanna fuck him so bad.

Same, same. Honestly, I feel this in my soul. Lol

Warnings: Dub con.

Ruby goes to President Loki for help/protection after most of her people are wiped out by Alioth. He has certain conditions though…

-

‘I can’t believe I’m doing this… but what other option do I have?’ Ruby muttered to herself as she paced back and fore, just on the borderline of her land, her torn brown cape fluttered out behind her.

With a sigh, she looked across the vast land of nothing... Alioth had destroyed everything in its path, as usual. Taking caution, she flipped her hood up and began making her way across the land. Her stomach was in knots, she knew this was a bad idea. It was her last option though, unless she wanted to die.

After carefully making her way to the other side of the void, she came to Loki’s territory… As soon as she got near his den, she was approached by two guard Loki’s.

‘What are you doing here?’ One of them barked at her, while making it clear he wouldn’t hesitate to use the weapon he was holding on her as he batted it against his hand. She kept back a scoff at the pathetic sight of him trying to make out a baseball bat would do her major harm.

‘I’m here to see President Loki, right away.’ Ruby said determinedly as she pulled her hood down.

The two guards looked at one another then back at her. ‘Is he expecting you?’

‘No. Tell him I’ve come to ask for a favour.’

The guards huffed and took a few steps away to talk quietly between themselves. Then one of them headed down into the den while the other just kept an eye on her quietly.

After a couple of minutes, the guard returned and nodded his head to the entrance without a word.

Ruby grinned at him and mocked a bow as she climbed down the ladder. The guard closed the lid on her as she descended, the sound of it closing made her swallow hard. She knew this was risky, going into the lion’s den…

As she got to the bottom, she internally cringed as she looked around the place. It was like an old-style arcade place cross bowling alley.

‘Well, well, well. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?’ Came his sultry venomous voice.

Ruby looked across the room and smirked. President Loki was sat on a red throne, surrounded by large fake candy canes, lollies and bowling pins. His legs were splayed open as he sat like he owned the place… Which, she supposed he did really.

As she began walking over towards him, she could see the smarmy smirk on his face that she tried to match. Not wanting to show any weakness or nerves. She hated him, so much. Wanted to slap that smirk right off his handsome face… No, she couldn’t let herself think of him in that way.

‘Let’s cut right to the chase. My people have been drastically wiped out by Alioth. All that’s left is myself and three others…’ She paused and took a moment, she really couldn’t believe what she was about to ask… ‘I’ve come to ask for help.’

Loki said nothing for a second as he processed what she said. Then he grinned widely and laughed, leaning forward eagerly his eyes narrowed at her.

‘Oh so great, fierce and feisty Ruby… You must be truly desperate, to come to me for help.’ He said gleefully.

‘I am. I ask for protection.’ She said through gritted teeth.

Loki laughed again, throwing his head back. ‘Oh my. It was merely just three days ago that your people were attacking mine, just for being in your supposed territory.’

‘They were in my territory. We had a deal, to stay out of each other’s way. Your people broke that.’ Ruby hissed at him.

‘Yet here you are. In my home. Wanting my help.’ Loki grinned and leaned back in his chair, his eyes locked firmly on her, deliberately trying to unsettle her.

‘I… have no other option.’ Ruby sighed in defeat and let her head hang down.

Loki narrowed his eyes at her and tilted his head slightly. ‘Beg me.’

‘What?’ Ruby’s eyes widened.

‘You heard me.’

Ruby clenched her jaw. ‘Please, President Loki… I need your help. Please.’

‘Begging isn’t just with words.’ Loki said slyly.

Ruby raised an eyebrow in confusion. Though Loki briefly glanced down to the ground, then looked back at her with a coy smile. Ruby had to take a few deep breaths to keep herself calm, to resist from saying something that would have her chucked out, even though it was on the tip of her tongue…

‘Please… President Loki. I really need your help.’ She said as she crouched right down and bowed her head.

‘Hmm.’ Loki stroked his chin in thought. ‘Crawl to me. Beg at my feet. If you do good enough, I might consider it.’

Ruby’s head snapped up and she stood abruptly. Her hands clenched in fists and she was almost shaking, but she knew her anger would get her nowhere. She took a moment to calm down, with Loki watching with so much amusement.

‘You’re such an asshole.’ She snarled under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

‘Yet, you’re still here.’ He grinned widely, then waited patiently for her next move, saying nothing else.

Ruby closed her eyes and mentally smacked herself. No other option, but likely death…

So as much as she didn’t want to, she got down on her hands and knees and began crawling towards him. She crawled up the few steps to where his throne was, then paused at his feet and put her head down.

‘Please… I really need your help.’ She whispered, defeated.

‘Kiss my boots.’ Loki demanded smugly, she knew without looking up that he would have that big smirk on his face.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her pain, she decided to just do it without arguing. She leant down and kissed each boot quickly. Then she dared to look up at him, which was a big mistake.

Seeing him looming over her, his legs still splayed open and a big grin on his face. He looked so powerful in that moment and she felt so… small. Defeated. Yet, she found herself feeling the need to clench her thighs together a little.

While she always found him to be such an arrogant bastard, always trying to become the leader of the whole land. To have everyone kneel at his feet. She couldn’t deny how good looking he was. That a very deep part of her wanted to just submit to him and let him take over.

Now, she was so close to that becoming a reality. Only, she didn’t realise quite yet just how close she was to that actually happening…

When he reached down, gripping her chin between his fingers and tilting her head up more, she felt her heart beat quicken a little. She tried to keep a stern face on, not wanting to show more weakness. She’d already begged for his help, surely that would be it.

‘I will help you and your remaining people. On two conditions.’ He drawled and leaned back in his chair.

Ruby swallowed hard and sat back on her heels, waiting to hear further from him.

‘One. Your people move here, your territory becomes mine.’

‘That’s two.’ Ruby scowled.

‘Ah, ah. I didn’t say you could speak yet.’ He said as he waggled his finger at her.

She shut her mouth and waited.

‘Two. You, however, will become my submissive pet. You will do whatever I ask of, without question. Or risk punishment.’ A slight smirk tugged at the side of his mouth.

Ruby’s eyes widened, she almost balked at that condition. But what option she did have? She had no other option. She didn’t fail to notice the slight bulge in his trousers that had grown since she began crawling to him. That’s when she realised that she was a little aroused herself actually… Though she did her best to ignore it.

‘That’s sick… I can’t do that.’ She stumbled up to her feet and down the steps, putting distance between them.

Loki shrugged. ‘I don’t see why it would be so bad for you. I will make sure you get plenty of pleasure out of it too. I’m not selfish in that department, if that’s what you’re worried about. In-fact, I’m rather gifted in that way.’ He boasted.

Oh I’m sure you are… Ruby thought briefly.

‘I… I don’t have an option. Do I?’ She said in defeat.

Loki chuckled. ‘No, it doesn’t look like you do. Unless you want to take your chances with just the four of you against Alioth and the other dangers that lurk here.’

Ruby was quiet for a minute, having a battle in her mind about what to do. Though she had a feeling if she declined his offer, she would probably be slaughtered upon leaving here. Loki had always wanted to take over her territory. Even if she got back safely, she knew it would only be a matter of time before Loki took over and attacked, now knowing there was only four of them. They’d have no chance against him.

‘Well, I don’t have all day. What’s it going to be?’ Loki barked at her.

-

The three remaining people of Ruby’s army climbed down the ladder into Loki’s den. They knew she had come here seeking help, but when she didn’t return after a few days, they grew worried. Expecting to find her dead, they had a feeling they would have to barter with the President themselves to get help.

But as they turned around to look upon the President on his throne, they certainly didn’t expect to see what they did.

President Loki was sitting on his throne, but he had Ruby completely naked, aside from a thick leather collar around her neck and a lead. Her arms were tied behind her back, she had a ball gag in her mouth and was sitting on his lap, impaled on his cock. Her naked body was on display for everyone who entered to see.

Loki chuckled darkly as he tugged on her leash, pulling her body back into his chest. He slid his other hand down the front of her body to where they were joined, where his cock kept her spread wide open. He began slowly stroking her clit, making her whine and drool on the gag.

‘How nice of you to finally come along… As you can see, your leader here has made quite the sacrifice in exchange for your protection. You are all to remain here now, with my people. You will be shown to your new quarters.’ Loki said gleefully, with a few grunts and growls mixed in as Ruby’s cunt fluttered around his cock.

‘R… Ruby… Why did you do this? We would have managed.’ One of her people said sadly, tears in her eyes at seeing her leader in that situation.

Ruby just moaned around the gag in response. Her brain had completely shut down, she couldn’t even think straight. All she could think about was how good Loki’s cock felt inside her and how magic his fingers were. He’d fucked her silly multiple times already in the last few days, in so many different positions, she was too far gone. Didn’t care about being on display like this.

She had bruises all over her thighs, hips and ass. Plus bite marks on her shoulders and neck, clearly marked by him.

One of the guys pulled out his sword and angrily stomped closer to the throne. ‘How dare you degrade our leader like this!’ He snarled at Loki.

Loki laughed and tutted at him.

‘If you don’t settle in, you will be thrown out. Part of our deal is that I also get your territory now. You’ll have nowhere else to go. So, I suggest you choose your next words and actions wisely.’ Loki growled at them.

‘Is… Is this true?’ The man asked Ruby, trying to just focus on her eyes.

Loki stopped playing with Ruby’s clit just long enough for her to focus, she nodded, her head hung down in shame. Till Loki pulled on the lead and forced her head back up.

Ruby’s people looked at one another, then were set on edge as five of Loki’s guards appeared, surrounding them. They knew they had no option. They wouldn’t be able to fight their way out, never mind survive out there.

‘Fine.’ One of the women muttered.

‘Good. Now, get out of my sight.’ President Loki demanded and motioned them all away with a wave of his hand.

The guards nodded, taking an eyeful of Ruby’s naked body first, then they escorted Ruby’s people out of the room. Leaving Ruby and Loki alone.

‘Mmm, now be a good girl and cum on my cock.’ Loki growled into Ruby’s ear as his fingers sought her clit again.

[writingreadinglurkingandsmirking]

But I Shine So Bright - Rafe Cameron x Reader

Dear Reader Duology: Part 1, Part 2

Summary: You wake up hungover from the previous night’s party, and are struck with the realization of the conversation you’d had with Rafe prior. You decide that, yes, you should actually have that conversation with him sober like he’d suggested. So, that’s what you two do. Word Count: 5.1k+ TWs/CWs: Adult/profane language, she/her pronouns used for reader, brief descriptions of a hangover, OOC Rafe in that he's only a little crazy and is actually willing to admit he was wrong, unrealistically fast relationship re-establishment, Rafe still wants to kill that guy lol, bad example of a healthy relationship but hi this is Rafe be so for real here, Rafe obviously has pretty privilege Note: Yeah so I just decided to do the part 2 lmao so here she is. And now it has me thinking Thoughts about doing more Dear Reader inspired fics for OBX babes...like a Dear Reader duology collection sounds like a fun little project hehehe

Waking up was more painful than you’d anticipated. When you’d gone out, you never intended to get that drunk. Decidedly, you’d drank more than you had in a long while. A stupid choice all around, but especially stupid considering you didn’t have the built-in protection of…him anymore. Your girlfriends had dutifully tried to slow you down, but you didn’t listen to them.

Fuck’s sake, even his friends had tried to stop you. To be fair, they’d been more successful. Yes, the first memory you woke up to was Topper and Kelce, your ex-boyfriend’s best friends, stopping you from doing a fucking keg stand. And that was just something special considering you knew damn well that you’d been wearing a skirt with nothing underneath. So clearly your night had been just full of good choices.

“God,” you groaned, rolling over on your side. Your eyes landed on a water bottle on the side of your bed. You blinked once, twice, a third time, and then lurched up into a sitting position. “Shit.” While the sudden movement made you nauseous for a moment, you managed to resist the urge to vomit. You scrambled for your phone. It was noon already. Fuck. You saw that a group chat with your friends had blown up and you had a slew of other texts.

Where the hell did you go?

Why did Topper come tell us that fucking RAFE took you home??

Hello?? Girl what the hell are you thinking?

You better call us and tell us that you’re safe.

Dude you better not fucking sleep with him I swear to God I am SO serious.

Be like Dua Lipa and remember the new rules bitch.

Be safe I swear to GOD bestie I’ll fuck you up if you get hurt.

If you fuck him you better not let him hit raw.

BYE don’t let him hit AT ALL.

“Shit,” you hissed.

You’d thought you’d had a dream that Rafe had been the one taking care of you. A pleasant dream minus the blubbering you’d been doing. But no. It turns out you actually had been blubbering on him. On the ex who left you for no reason and with no discernible guilt outwardly shown. This just had to be a joke. It had to be. The pit in your stomach wasn’t from the aggressive hangover, it was literally just the dread that had an iron grip on you. Looking down at your phone again, you saw a text from Kelce of all fucking people too.

Lmao I know you’re gonna be hurting this morning but let me or Top know if Rafe did anything stupid yesterday and we’ll beat the shit out of him fr.

You couldn’t help but let out a high-pitched, borderline hysterical laugh at the very idea. You run a hand down your face, grateful that Rafe had forced you to take the makeup off the night before. You felt sick and awful and still somehow better than you had before. It was pathetic somehow, on some level, that spending even an hour with Rafe had the ability to make you feel so much better and so much worse all at once. So, with trembling hands, you made a move to answer.

First, to your friends.

Not yall acting like you don’t have my location. I got home safe. Nothing happened fuck off.

You then immediately silenced the group chat so you wouldn’t have to deal with it. You looked at Kelce’s and cringed, letting your fingers move.

Yeah definitely got a hellish hungover. Thanks for keeping me from doing a keg stand like a dumbass last night btw? Idk what the fuck that was about. And nah, Rafe didn’t do anything. Even if he did you wouldn’t win that fight, Kelce, be so fr lol.

The response from him came quickly.

Ah, she lives. Well, you didn’t choke on your vomit so that’s good. And hurtful, I could definitely beat him.

You rolled your eyes.

Yeah, maybe if he were tied to a chair bro. But fr, thank you for helping me out. Thank Top too for me btw.

The response took longer this time. And was punctuated by an immediate follow-up.

Course. I’ll let him know. You’re still our friend. We weren’t gonna let you get that messed up.

You should talk to your boy though. Let him know you’re good. Pretty sure he’s worried about you.

You bit your lip. Instead of replying, you instead closed that text thread and looked back to the rest of your messages. But, you were thrown for a loop when you saw Rafe’s name appearing at the top, texting you just now. You weren’t proud of it, but you had to throw yourself from your bed and empty your stomach. You blamed the hangover, but you also knew that the anxiety of facing him after the night before was nerve-wracking enough to be the culprit alone.

Once you finally cleaned yourself up, you felt a bit more human again. Only then did you return to your phone. You stared at it for a few minutes before even daring to pick it up. Then, you stared at your background - still a picture of you and Rafe, one where his smile was so big from a laugh that it crinkled the corners of his eyes and you had buried your face in his neck while also laughing. You hated that you hadn’t changed it yet, but every single time you tried to, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You put the phone down again.

Sighing, you reached over and grabbed the water bottle he had left you. Then you noticed he’d also left out some meds for you to take. Not letting yourself think about it or the way it turned your stomach, you took the pills and drank the water completely before letting yourself even think about your phone again. At least that was the lie you spun yourself, ignoring the way that the stupid piece of technology wove through every thought and every damn breath you took.

In an effort to pretend like that wasn’t true, you walked down to your kitchen and got a Liquid I.V. knowing damn well that Rafe would be telling you to if he were here. And, yeah, even now, the little things he did to show he cared still stuck to your bones. You hated it. Or, at least you hated that he wasn’t actually here. Some days it was hard to tell which was true and which was the lie. You wanted him, you didn’t, you wanted him, you didn’t. You definitely did—that was the truth and you knew it.

Steeling yourself, you eventually went back upstairs and picked your phone back up. Clicking Rafe’s name, you were fully prepared to ignore whatever the message was like you knew you should if you were going to get over him. But somehow, you could feel the familiar love and affection punching you in the gut.

Take the pills I left. Drink some liquid iv or whatever if you have it. Don’t forget to eat.

You inhaled shakily, thinking if you should even respond or not, worrying at your lip and tapping your fingers anxiously against your knee. But, as you did, another text came through from him.

Lmk if you need anything.

Short, sweet, and to the point.

You, your brain supplied unhelpfully. I just fucking need you.

You thought about the night before. About the words he said. About the stark honesty in his voice that you hadn’t heard in months from him. You thought about the simple promise he made. He said that you could talk about it when you were sober if you still wanted to. Did you want to? Yes. So, before you could talk yourself out of it, you clicked his contact to call him and brought the phone to your ear.

“You okay?” were the words that Rafe greeted you with. Not hello. Just concern.

“I…yeah. I’m fine,” you said when your brain finally caught up with you again. “I…thanks for getting me home. You know, and everything else too,” You paused for a moment, finishing with, “You really didn’t have to do all that.”

“Of course I did,” Rafe said, sounding surprisingly serious. “I’d never leave you like that. Ever.”

“I’m sorry I was such a mess,” you said, reflexively apologizing. “And sorry I was like…pawing at you like some animal.”

Rafe let out a dry sort of chuckle that betrayed he was at least slightly amused by some of your antics the night prior. It made your heart flutter, which just felt utterly ridiculous. He made a noncommittal noise. “I just wanted to make sure you, you know, were good.”

“No. Seriously, I can’t imagine how much worse that would’ve gotten without you there. So really, uh, thanks. I was…not thinking last night obviously,” you said. There was a pregnant pause over the phone and you realized how that sounded. “I mean I, like, really don’t drink that much!” You were rushing to clarify, anxious to make sure that Rafe knew you didn’t mean your conversation with him. “I seriously don’t even know how much I drank. I’m lucky I didn’t, like, die in my sleep.”

“I’ve seen you worse,” he said flatly. “You’d have been fine.”

“That’s when I had you, though,” you pointed out before you could stop yourself. You heard Rafe inhale sharply, saying your name but you cut him off. “Did you mean what you said?”

Rafe paused. “What?” he asked cautiously.

“That we can actually talk,” you clarified.

“Are you not too hungover for this?” Rafe asked, sounding tired already.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I want to talk to you.” You huffed out a sigh. “Rafe, I need to talk to you.”

You heard him let out a sigh of his own. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

“I want to do it in person,” you said, willing to push your luck here. “I don’t want to do this on the phone. I want to see your face so I know if you’re lying to me.”

Rafe gave a similar sort of dry chuckle to before. “Have never lied to you, Princess, but sure. Fine. Today?” he asked shortly.

“Yes,” you agreed. “Today. I think waiting two months was long enough.” Rafe didn’t rise to the bait, which you were partially glad for and partially disappointed by. “How about we meet at the country club at like…six?”

“You want to do this in front of people?” Rafe asked, surprised.

“No. We’ll go down to the beach. Just easier to meet there,” you said vaguely.

The reality was the country club gave you a way to chicken out last minute that the beach didn’t. At the country club, you could hide in a bathroom. On the beach, unless you were planning on drowning yourself or burying yourself in the sand you were stuck with him.

“Okay, Gorgeous,” he said lazily, the nickname slipping easily from his tongue. “Do you want me to pick you up or…”

“I’m good,” you denied. “I’ll get there.”

“See you later then,” he said.

“Okay. See you,” you said, hurriedly hanging up before you said something stupid like I love you or just tell me now why you left me.

You spent the next few hours panicking about what you’d just done, torn between hating yourself for making that choice and being relieved that it was finally happening. You gave all of your friends in your group chat a short version of your plan. You were met with a mixture of approval and disapproval from everyone—mostly born of a desire to make sure that you were alright. They offered to come and do recon so you’d have an easy out, but you denied the need. Then, they offered to come and slash his truck tires, which you declined just like you had the first hundred times they’d offered over the past two months. After that, they settled and just insisted that you text them an update later to let them know what was going on. It was easy enough to agree to.

You make your way to the country club a little bit before six and were shocked to see Rafe already waiting there. He was sitting at the bar, knee bouncing with anxiety, tapping at an empty glass in front of him. His eyes met yours, and just for a moment, you froze in place. Slowly, you drifted over to his side and were pleasantly surprised to see that he appeared entirely sober.

“Hey,” he greeted when you found words hard to formulate.

“Hi, Rafe,” you replied after a few breaths.

He looked you up and down, an undercurrent of amusement passing through his eyes. “I’d ask if you want a drink but I have a feeling that you’d rather swallow a bucket of sand right now,” he said.

You nodded, grimacing. “Pretty much,” you confirmed. You glanced towards the door. “Wanna…go?”

God, how could this be so fucking awkward? you asked yourself. This was the man you fell in love with and knew like the back of your hand and still somehow this was wildly uncomfortable like you didn’t know each other at all.

Rafe nodded slowly, rising to his feet. He gestured for you to go first, eyes habitually roaming around the room. They landed on the guy who had been touching you the night before at the party, gross hand on your leg as if he had any form of claim to you. Rafe felt his blood boiling for a moment and had to resist the urge to go and pummel the guy’s face in. It was hard for him, at least until the guy looked over, noticing Rafe. Immediately, the creep paled to a near-ghostly white shade. Satisfied by the obvious fear, Rafe offered the guy a condescending smile, with a harsh edge to it, teeth set. He put his hand on the small of your back as you walked, guiding you forward and opening the door for you as he went. As he passed through, his eyes did not separate from the guy’s until you had exited. The message was clear, even though you hadn’t even noticed the interaction at all.

She is Rafe Cameron’s, she is not available.

As you started to walk down to the beach, almost immediately, Rafe began to feel guilty for thinking that. He’d already done enough to hurt you in his eyes. But, then again, he couldn’t deny the part of him that desperately did want a second chance to reach that famous happy end. The kind that he knew only you could give him. The kind that only came with you beside him. No, he couldn’t ignore that part of him. It made up most of him. And he knew that it made up most of you too. And that was the part that made him loathe himself all the more.

On and on down the beach the pair of you walked, alternating between a few feet and barely a few inches between you. The silence continued on until you realized you didn’t even know how to approach this conversation. You sighed, stopping in your trek, evidently having decided you were far enough from other people to have this conversation now. 

“I don’t know how to even start this,” you admitted quietly. “I miss you. I meant that. I meant everything I said last night except that I hate you. I don’t. I wish I could, sometimes. But I don’t. I love you. And…and last night you said that you loved me too, still.”

“I do,” he said, shrugging, then setting his jaw to shut himself up.

“Then why are we doing this? When we love each other and we both want to be together? Why?” you asked, the words simple but desperate.

“You’re better off without me,” Rafe said, staring at the horizon, refusing to look at you.

“I’m not,” you denied. “And you’re not better without me either. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that either.” He’d been spending an egregious amount of his time high or wasted since your break up and it was impossible not to notice. Rafe glanced down at you and then back out over the water. The sky above you was morphing from its crystalline blue to the golden hues that promised night was coming soon. “I think we’re past lying to ourselves about that, don’t you? Or at least we should be.”

“I know that I’m not. But you are,” he reiterated. “I’m…an absolute fuck up. And I am only going to drag you down. That is all that I will ever be good for. You may not get that now. But you will.” He sighed and looked over at you. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, Princess.”

“Well look at that, wrong as usual,” you muttered, shaking your head. “You’re not any of that! You’re not a fuck up. You’re not going to drag me down. You are…” You gesticulated wildly, trying to have your brain magically summon the words to describe how you felt. You settled for shaking your head and gesturing around you. “You’re like a…like a fucking beacon or something.”

Rafe snorted. “Fuck me, if you think I’m some sort of guiding light you’ve lost it, Princess,” he said sharply. “I’m literally the opposite of that. I don’t…I don’t help people. I just hurt them.” He gestured towards you. “Look at my family. Look at my friends. Dragged them all down. And…I mean, just look at you. How could you think that I’m anything good anymore?” He shook his head. “No, just…no. I’m not.”

You groaned. “Stop talking about yourself like you’re some hideous monster that has to hide in the dark,” you insisted, voice growing louder. “You’re not. You’re just a man! That’s it! A fucking stupid man, who I love more than anything…who I hate to see tearing himself apart like he does. An absolutely idiotic man who I miss so much it hurts to wake up in the morning.” You deflated, shoulders slumping, and this time you were the one looking out over the water while Rafe stared intently at you. “I’m not better off without you.” From the corner of your eye, you saw Rafe’s hand run over the bottom half of his face while he shook his head. You saw him bring his hand towards his lips and your head whipped over to look at him. “Don’t bite your damn nails, when was the last time you washed your hands? You’ve touched doors and railings! This is a public beach!”

It was like a bubble of tension cracked at that and Rafe laughed. Honest to God laughed. Laughed like you hadn’t heard in months from him. Laughed in a way that made your heart flutter and your lips turn up. The laugh kept going like he couldn’t stop it, and before you knew it you were chuckling yourself, which morphed into a hysterical laugh. You swatted at his arm in the midst of your laugh, but he caught your hand and held it. After a few moments longer, you both stared at each other, calming down. His easy smile and the crinkle of his eyes disappeared, replaced by a frown and concern.

“You…you should really find another guiding light if that’s what you’re looking for. A real beacon. Someone you can count on,” he said.

“Rafe,” you said seriously, taking a step closer to him. “Look at me.” He sighed but met your eyes. You squeezed your still-joined hands and he looked down as if he’d forgotten you were even touching. “You kept me from making myself look like an idiot last night. You got me home when I actively was trying to make it difficult. You held me until I fell asleep. You owed me nothing and you did that. I didn’t even have to ask you to, fuck I didn’t even want you to be there, but you knew what was good for me. And you left out water and pills and then texted me in the morning.” You let out a short, weak laugh. “I don’t think that I can count on someone else more than you.” He looked at you as if to say your name without having to actually speak it and you rolled your eyes. “Tell me something. How often do you get second chances in life?”

Rafe looked away, tongue running over his cheek, and then he looked back. “More than I deserve,” he said shortly.

Again, you rolled your eyes. “Stop being a self-sacrificial bitch for a second,” you said. He looked at you, scandalized and you had to resist the urge to laugh, soldiering on with your point. “Tell me, without the shit, how often you get second chances in life for something that you really want?” 

“I don’t,” Rafe said after a moment.

“And yet here I am. And I know that you still want to be together. And I am trying to give us a second chance. Why are you trying to refuse it?” you demanded.

“Because you actually are a fucking beacon of light,” he snapped, hand flexing like he was about to squeeze yours but stopped himself. “And I don’t want to…to fucking ruin that. I would never forgive myself if I ruined you. If I…made that fucking light go out? No, I’d never forgive myself. And I don’t want to risk you like that. Ever. And considering I’m this fucking black hole of bullshit…that is definitely risking it.”

His words resonated as if they were a tuning fork that struck and vibrated at the exact frequency of your very soul. He sighed and let go of your hand. In your shock, you let him. He moved away a few steps and paced back and forth. This time, when he brought his nails to his lips, you didn’t speak for a moment. You saw the glint of tears in his eyes and you didn’t know if they were from frustration or from sadness—both most likely.

Your brain caught up with you after a few moments of just staring at him. You walked forward and took his hand away from his mouth, moving your hands to rest behind his neck, forcing him to stop moving. Reflexively, his hands landed on your hips, holding you rather firmly to ground himself. You played with the ends of his hair, waiting for him to measure his breath once more and meet your eyes with his own.

“You’re not a black hole, idiot,” you said fondly. “You are not an irredeemable monster. You’re just scared.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched and he looked away, then back again. “I’m not fucking scared. But if I were, Princess? It’d be for good reason,” he said. “I have a lot to lose if I keep fucking up.”

“Everyone does,” you pointed out. You moved one hand to cup his cheek. “For now, if you think that I’m some mythical fucking beacon of light, then let me do it for both of us…be it.” He shook his head, blinking away tears he didn’t want to fall. “Rafe…I can handle you being stupid. I can handle your fuck ups. I have this long. What I can’t handle is losing you.” He was silent and you shrugged. “Look at me and tell me that if I walked away right now and started dating someone else you’d be okay with that.”

His eyes snapped back to you, visibly disturbed and angry. “Fuck no,” he admitted, practically spitting the words out.

“Exactly,” you said softly. His hands moved slowly to wrap around your waist more, no longer just resting on your waist. “I know that there are things we have to work on. Believe me. But we make sense. We work together. Let’s try again, Rafe.” You took a deep, shaky breath. “If you tell me you don’t love me. If you don’t want this…I’ll walk away. I won’t bring this up…won’t bother you again.”

“No,” Rafe said immediately, more firmly than even the last time. “I do love you, of course I fucking do. And yes I want you.” His voice almost immediately became choked up. “I want us. I just…”

“Are the words you’re looking for ‘am scared?’” you suggested.

“No,” he denied, using what was obviously his new favorite word once more. “Not scared. Just…hesitant to risk hurting you.”

You gave him a flat look. “Rafe, is loving me worth the risk of me hurting you?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I don’t care if you hurt me.”

“So then why can I not feel the same way about you?” you demanded. “It’s worth the risk. So let’s take it.”

“You’re more important than me,” he murmured, leaning your foreheads together, initiating the touch he obviously desperately craved.

The noise that escaped you was somewhere between a scoff and a snort. “That’s the dumbest thing you have ever said to me,” you declared. “And you told me that for two years you didn’t believe that dinosaurs were real.”

Rafe laughed, weak but true and a sweet sound to your ears. As he did so, he pulled back just enough that your eyes were able to meet. “I was a child,” he defended, a tiny smile on his lips.

“You were twelve,” you corrected. “You started high school not believing that dinosaurs existed. You had to take an earth science class to realize that fossils were real.”

Turning his head, Rafe moved one of his hands to your face, holding your cheek, just like you were doing to him. “Can I kiss you to stop you from making fun of me again?” he asked softly, eyes darting down to your lips and then back up. “Or is it too soon to tell you to shut up without being an ass?”

You smirked. “Don’t worry. I know you’re an ass,” you said, leaning forward.

He met you halfway, your lips brushing together. The kiss was soft at first, sweet and featherlight as if trying to ascertain if it was really happening. That didn’t last for very long though. Quickly, Rafe’s grip on you tightened and he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss. You happily let him take the lead, letting your hands travel to the back of his neck again, longing to just sink into his embrace. When you broke apart, you both were breathing unevenly, looking at each other with vulnerable gazes.

“I missed you,” you said, voice strangely shy considering who you were talking to and how well you knew him—not to mention the fact that his tongue had been practically down your throat moments earlier.

“I love you,” Rafe said. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead that lingered, then tipped your chin up to meet his gaze, his other hand keeping you pressed firmly to his body. “You gonna be my girl again, Gorgeous?”

Even though you rolled your eyes, your smile gave you away. “I never really stopped, did I?” you posed.

He hummed, half-frown on his face, and shrugged. “Dunno,” he admitted.

“I didn’t,” you said, wanting to wipe away the insecurity from him in one assurance even though you knew you couldn’t. “I never stopped. And, for the record, I love you too. Even though you’re a jackass.” You paused. “And a little bit on the stupid side.”

Rafe’s lips cracked back into a smile that grew into something far more relaxed. “Well that’s good to know,” he murmured. 

“You just have pretty privilege is all,” you murmured quietly, voice serious despite the words being joking. You looked at him as though you feared he might disappear. 

He stroked your cheek, wiping away a stray tear you hadn’t realized fell, and then reluctantly pulled away from you, forcing his hands into his pockets to keep from touching you. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“We do,” you confirmed. You offered him your hand. “Wanna go get something to eat and actually, you know, do that?”

Immediately, his hand was out of his pocket, and his fingers were laced with yours. “Yeah, Princess, I do,” he agreed. “Let’s go before it gets dark.”

“How could it get dark when I shine so bright as our beacon?” you asked, teasing, grabbing his arm with your free hand and squeezing it in a half-hug.

“Jesus Christ you’re lucky that you’re so damn easy to love,” Rafe said laughing. He pulled you closer, letting go of your hand in favor of throwing his arm over your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to your temple, lips lingering, his voice going serious this time. “I love you.”

“I know you do,” you assured him. “I love you too.” He nodded, still not moving away yet. “Come on, Cameron. Let’s get a move on here. You’ll be thrilled to know that I didn’t listen to you and drink or eat much of anything today, so I am desperately in need of water or something.”

Rafe groaned. “Of course you didn’t,” he said dryly. “Come on, can’t let my girl stay dehydrated or hungry.”

With that, he started pulling you back up the beach towards the country club. And, in the back of your mind, even with the lingering uncertainty and unsaid words, you felt better than you had in what felt like an eternity. You stared at Rafe’s face—your Rafe, your stupid, sweet, annoying, perfect boyfriend—as the golden hour’s light hit him. The angelic glow that it cast on his infuriatingly perfect face was always breathtaking. But, something about him at this moment, after being so vulnerable and honest, struck you differently. You took your phone out and snapped a picture of him before he could notice or refuse and smiled down at it, ignoring the delayed groan when Rafe realized you’d already captured it.

“Come on, Gorgeous,” he complained.

“Sorry, I just had to capture the day Rafe Cameron admitted he was wrong. It’s a historical event,” you said, grinning, sending the picture to your friend before turning the phone off wanting to focus only on him.

He rolled his eyes at the jab, but you were pleased to see the way that his lips twitched up in an amused smile. The sight lightened your heart and made your lips stretch into a wider version of your own smile you’d already been sporting. And in the slowly fading light of day, there were only two things that you were certain of.

Rafe didn’t give himself nearly enough credit.

You weren’t going to make the same mistake as him.

Taglist: @joselyn001 @caughtinthetides @proactivetypaperson @abbybarnesstuff @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @fangirlfree @antagonize-me-motherfucker

[sheepispink]

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑺𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑶𝑪𝑶𝑳 ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

Series Masterlist

Chapter 3: Return

If he thought his first days with you as an escort was bad, this must be hell itself. Not only is the new girl he’s been assigned incredibly annoying with her constant, personal questions that are borderlining appropriate, but she’s also a teacher's pet to the higher ups. Whilst avoiding Chris’ questions is difficult, it seemed like she was desperate for them from the way she constantly fed back every little detail to him and any other higher up she ‘accidentally’ bumped into. Even you would’ve given more vague answers to Chris, and hell, you looked like you wanted Leon dead for half the time you were there.

Today he's in the middle of his workout, which consists of avoiding paperwork with the excuse of situps, when all of a sudden, she pops her head above him. Naturally, it startles him and he internally groans when her forced high pitched voice fills his ears. Damn, did she really need to try and give him a headache? “Leon, you haven't even done one piece of paperwork today!” She whines, only one sheet of paper in her hands. Did she even do her paperwork?!

Lord, you’d never call him by his name either, always ‘Kennedy’ and well, he’s not even sure if he can pronounce your surname— that made escort his go to. Now he has this bunny like girl practically hopping in his vision every minute of the day. “Yeah, yeah, it’ll be done by the end of today.” He doesnt know when he started to compare everything she did to how you did— when did he even pay attention to all of your mannerisms? Every time it starts to form in his head he has to push it out again, forcing himself up from the ground as his muscles strain.

Whenever she'd give feedback to the higher ups, he’d only receive more stern glares from them the next day. Sure he wasn't exactly the most motivated here but damn, did he really deserve being ogled like he was wearing a clown suit? He knew he was a pawn, blackmailed by the DSO just so they could have someone who’d do anything they’d ask. It seemed fruitless before to even try to be better, even with your encouraging, but he found himself enjoying working out again. He was finally beginning to enjoy the feeling of aching muscles when he climbed into bed rather than the pounding hangover waiting for him in the morning. But with this girl just constantly getting on his nerves in all the worst ways, not even giving him a chance to prove himself before she’s telling him about his assignment next week and the paperwork that’s all due.

His head feels heavy from the whisky he had downed last night; Sunday’s were always the worst for him, far too many memories that were allowed to run free due to the lack of activity. Now he walks the halls, pissed since the new escort is too much of a goody two shoes to even fetch him a coffee in work hours, and now he has Chris practically on his tail for slacking off.

“Oh? Kennedy’s old escort? Yeah, she couldn't even afford the job. I don't even know why they give people like her the good roles and we just get a short placement!” One of the interns complains as he’s about to turn the corner and he stops dead in his tracks. Couldn’t afford the job? What the hell did that mean?

“I heard she couldn't even afford her flight for her escort job. Isn't that kind of pathetic? I mean, why even take the job?” The other interns giggle along, boasting about how they’d be such good escorts and gushing over the agents they would follow around all day. However Leon’s mind is too occupied with the fact that you hadn’t quit the job because you got fed up with him, no, it was only due to money. Despite that, he cant let that sway him now, life is better without you. He’s just.. not being optimistic about it. Two more beers, that’s what he needs, he’s definitely too sober if he’s missing you.

The next week is painfully long, trying to stray every thought from it’s destined path that is you. It’s like you consume him, a constant reminder that one, he’s not a good agent and two, you’re the only one who can save his sorry ass. It’s tempting, almost too much, the idea of walking into your office, slamming his hands down on the desk and just telling you to get back in the DSO right now before he drags you. Nicely, of course. And with his hair actually brushed out, and clean clothing and definitely not stinking of any beer. No, he cant give in so quickly— he’s surely more resilient than this.. right?

It’s been three weeks since you’ve left and now you have an annoyed Leon at your box desk, which is more of a table you just use as a foot rest at this point. You raise an eyebrow at him as he complains on and on about the new girl, how she wont shut up and just keeps going on and on about his misconduct. “Well, you aren't exactly doing your job. I cant blame her.” You shrug, knowing well that she’s somewhat trying to do her job as well. He steps round your desk and sits on the edge, tossing a packet of sweets in your lap as a peace offering. “No— you don't understand. She will not stop talking about it. All the time. ‘Have you done the paperwork?’ ‘Why didn't you do the paperwork’ ‘When will you do the paperwork?’. I was on a mission!” He exclaims, still keeping his voice hushed since apparently to him she has ‘eyes everywhere’. You couldn't help but feel a tad bit bad for him though— it’s clear that this situation needed to be approached differently, like you had done previously, considering he had a serious alcohol problem and all she was doing was rubbing salt into the wound.

You sigh, ripping open the sweets he brought, before he changed his mind, and popping one into your mouth absentmindedly. “I’ve quit already, Leon, nothing I can do about that anymore.” Licking the sugar from your lips, you shrug, not bothering to keep up with honorifics now that you’re not under his rule anymore.

“Well, there’s not much I can do when they’re constantly blackmailing me.” He scoffs again but he has a chance this time; a small one and particularly not the best one but definitely one. It’s a risk, but when has Leon not taken a risk? He’d be indebted to you in more ways than one, but you don't need to know that.. for now. “Look…” He pauses, letting out a reluctant sigh as he steals a sweet out the packet, chewing it down while he averts his gaze. “I’ll pay for all your fees. I just need you back there, asap, you’re like.. the only one who can do it.”

You pause, jaw slightly dropped by his words but no, not the last ones. “Wait— what?” Your eyebrow raises at him, surprised by what he had just revealed. He grits his teeth, annoyed by your insistence of making him repeat himself and continues to keep his gaze tightly averted. “I said.. I'd pay for it.. and uh.. I kind of need yo-“

“No— no, they blackmailed you?!” You say in shock, repeating his words back to him. That explained so much more now, especially from how he just always seemed to teeter on the edge but never completely over. Some days it was clear he hated the job with all his might, only wanting to get doused in alcohol until the sun returned. But others it was like it was his passion, his livelihood, but most of the time he wanted to leave. Even so, he never did, even when he was practically pushing a suspension. This explained so much.

He finally snaps his gaze back to you at your surprise, nodding slowly as his face hardens as he remembers. “It’s a.. long story. I saved a kid from the Raccoon City incident.” He begins and your eyes immediately widen, knowing that name as much as every American citizen did these days. It was a terrible thing, a freakish ‘accident’, and you had no idea he had experienced it. After all, most of the few who survived didn’t particularly last long unfortunately. “The DSO, they make me work for them in order for her to be safe until she’s of age.”

He murmurs, hands gripping the edge of the table and suddenly it’s like your perspective has shifted. After all, you cant argue with a man whose put up with horrifying scenes all year round in order to keep a little girl he isn't even related to, safe.

This is so much more than the drunken bastard you knew before, so much more than the lazy agent that couldn't do anything. “I should’ve expected that.. when had the government ever been completely clean?” He nods slowly, agreeing with your words before he takes another sweet, chewing the sugar down. “I don't hate it. I still want to fight for the country, to save the people. I just..”

You don't need him to explain, so you nod your head in agreement, pushing your legs off the desk as you stand up from the squeaky office chair you were sat upon.

“Alright, fine. Let’s get that girl a new job, and return mine.”

It only takes around three days for you to get settled back into the office again, Leon being kind enough for once to carry some boxes back to your little desk in the DSO. You cant lie and say you havent missed it, or maybe you just hate looking through boring emails all the damn time. “Thanks.”

You say with a small grin as he places down the box onto your desk, helping replug in the wires back into the plug sockets. He just clears his throat in response, muttering something about it not being a big deal and ‘expected of an agent’. He sticks in the last usb cable, dusting his hands as you pick up your mug, heading to grab your morning pick me up. “I’ll see you in the breakroom.” You hum, before pausing and giving him a small smirk. “But i expect all the paperwork you’re required to finish before the end of it.” He can only roll his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he gives you his cocky smirk that hasnt shown up in a while.

“I’ll get it here before you can take your last sip.” He’s about to turn and head off, as he usually does after saying his one liners. This time he pauses, slightly facing you as he fiddles with the pens in your pot. “For the record— no escort should have to pay those fees so I'm just doing what’s expected. Not a favour.” With that being said, he’s off, not allowing you to challenge his claim since he knows damn well that’s not the real reason in the slightest.

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[rosy6maple6mothman6]

So I just finished xiaolin showdown: I wanna talk about it. Spoilers.

I really liked the show! I knew I would thanks to childhood memories of it but I think it holds up alright even today! Imma break it down in what I Did like and what I Didn't like (I think Imma make a different post talking about the Wu). This is longer than I thought it would be. I'm sorry.

What I liked

The Wu themselves, love me magic shit even if they get repetitive at times(fr there are like 4 that just give the power to fly).

I fucking love Jack Spicer and Clay Bailey. They are my boys do you hear me! Love how Jack just won't quit and how Clay is just so painfully Texas. My bois

Love the magic in general! How all die of the main characters get to master their element and get special weapons and gear to help. Wish there was more time to flush all of it out tho ,but hey what can you do(other than post head canons).

Dojo Kanojo Cho

Just his name is fucking amazing, and I did like some of his jokes

And his powers were cool! I wish we could have seen the limits of his shapeshifting powers.

I did like wuya and wish we could have seen her do more witchy things.

Chase Young was also very cool.

I also like panda bubba's design and I kinda wish there was more of him. I wanna do things to him DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT

I already said this BUT I just love how all of them got individual weapons that I don't think were Shen Gong Wu? I think.

Master fung and dojo... Had a very odd relationship. I'm 90% sure they were at least fucking by how dojo acted when he went to a different temple and after that it was just very. Weird.nit Bad weird but still.

Wish we could have seen more of their families. kimono's dad was fucking adorable. I want to fuck her dad

Also Love le mime!!! I also wanna fuck him, I am not taking. criticism at this time

I also liked Jermaine and wish he could have been able to join fully or show up more.

Over all love this show.

What I didn't like

How they treated Jack. Idk man I just thought it was weird how the heros tournamented him so much? Like ya he's a ass but like, y'all are the heros why are you acting borderline worse than him???

I also kinda wish he could have officially joined the xiaolin side, I feel like they alluded to him switching multiple times but then he never does and I think that was a waste.

LET JACK BE THE DRAGON OF METAL.

LET JACK MAKE THEM AN AWESOME DEFENSE SYSTEM.

LET JACK DO A FAKE OUT WHERE HE PRETENDED TO GO BAD AND THEN FUCK THE BADDIES UP WITH SABOTAGE.

Idk dude he deserved betted

Also didn't like how he started out at Least semi competent but then just became a pathetic joke? And not even fuc pathetic. He's not a wet dog he's just pathetic.

I wish we could have seen Raimundo's family if not just a sibling or his parents, just something.

Fuck Clay's dad. Not in a hot way. I hate him.

Omi had such an ego. Like dude, please stop.

I really wish we could have seen more of Fung and Omi's relationship. I kinda wish it was more father and son rather than teacher and student since it seems like Omi lived there his entire life.

I also wish we saw more of Fung being badass. I feel there was a lack of that.

I'll say it again, there are a bunch of shen gong wu that kinda just repeat? And some Wu that don't seem like they should be categorize as Wu? Idk I'll make a different post about it bc there a lot to say.

Le mime was cool and I want to know more about him.

I want to know more about almost everyone honestly.

Give Me Their Backstories. Please

This is all I can think of ATM. I'll add more later probably.

Thank you if you made it down here. Let me know what's your fav and least fav about xs.

[estellardreams]

A Proper Summary on WHO'S THE MOST DANGEROUS TRAUMA SIBLING BECAUSE THE POLL IS GETTING THE QUESTION WRONG.

I hhave a feeling that people are messing up what the question is... When I said "Who's the Most Dangerous Trauma Sibling™?" I meant in their current forms, not if they snapped out of their states on who would be the most vengeful... That answer would've gone to Damien, anyway.

No, I'm going to fix this predicament... By telling EVERYONE who's actually the most dangerous. Starting with the least.

Nikolai Peterson

Do I even need to explain? The small, anxiety riddled hedgehog who can't fend for himself and has too many problems in his mind? You think HE'S the most dangerous? Really?

He can't run, so definitely not Sonic. Agoraphobia literally shows his recovery process, and it did take a while for him to revert close to normal but those traits still remained.

And his anxiety is PROBLEMATIC. That boy can't fight for anything and Starline constantly capitalizes on his weakness. It's... Rather pathetic, really.

There's a lot more to go into but... He's not strong. At all.

"You are not Sonic the Hedgehog. You have never been Sonic the Hedgehog"

Niko is normal. That's the point. He doesn't believe he's Sonic. He's the complete opposite to him in every capacity, too.

Kyle Molina

Kyle is... A unique case. He's a completely blank slate.

I am not exaggerating.

He kept resisting Starline so much that the platypus had to resort to drugging him so much that he couldn't think straight and his memories were buried underneath the fog.

A very thick and deep fog, to be specific.

To summarize who he is now... He is very calm and collected, but still holds an imaginative mindset underneath that silent and stoic exterior.

Kyle is also not the type to get mad. That's very clear. He's more likely to show fear than anger or sadness in general.

He's like... The type who doesn't emote very often. He's generally calm, collected, and keeps his thoughts in order. Starline couldn't wipe his intelligence, but he did wipe his memories, leaving a very intelligent child on his own with no idea why he's even like this in the first place.

"You cannot fly. You do not have two tails."

Kyle was made to believe he was a normal fox. What sets him away from Camellia is that his memories are all gone.

A blank slate can't do anything if it knows nothing was there at all.

Damien Bridges

This one is... Obvious. Damien is borderline insane, and that's been a continuous fact with him. He is just as smart as Kyle, but due to his more unstable mind he's a lot more... Unhinged, so to speak.

Damien is practically the definition of "dying inside" and I am not joking. He's been smiling so much, his pupils have shrunken down, and he's constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown every single day.

Insane laughter is there too. And it can get bad to the point he spirals.

But where this differs is... How Starline handled him versus Amy. We'll get into her next.

Damien has mental restrictions on him, so he'll not snap and be forced to rely on Starline. It's mainly the case of repeated fake flashbacks that Starline helps him through so Damien must rely on him for help and safety from these recurring traumatic experiences.

And if people TRY to take Nox from Agoraphobia into account for the fact that Damien is the most dangerous, KEEP IN MIND he became the major antagonist when he went off his meds and essentially "broke out" of his programming. He doesn't count.

"You are not Shadow the Hedgehog. You are not the Ultimate Lifeform."

Damien is similar to Niko in his treatment in a lot of ways, but his trauma response is completely different in correlation with his new personality. As such, he's on the edge of being erratic, insane, and hard to deal with. The only thing that keeps him in line are his mental restraints.

Camellia Rivera

I had this discussion with Sky so I'll rephrase what I said here: She's the closest to her OG counterpart, and as such the most likely to fight back and grow aggressive towards others. Damien has the disadvantage of mental restraints, Camellia doesn't.

Camellia, in Heliophobia, is the only character who's run away from her family. In other circumstances, like Pragmatophobia, she is the first person to realize she's been manipulated by Starline. The first one to discover the truth. And even her efforts in both Pragmatophobia and Athazagoraphobia don't go unnoticed. She makes an effort to help save others also stuck in this trap (whether it works or not, no idea).

Camellia is also very strong-willed. That energetic, bubbly personality presents her as being a lot more confident and open about herself and her ideals. She might slip into anxious territory occasionally, but she's been very strong entirely through her existence.

"You are not magical. You are normal."

And what happens when you remove the idea of someone being magical but leave their personality untouched? You get Camellia.

And Camellia is absolutely someone you shouldn't get into a fight with.

I rest my case. Thank you for reading. :)

[suncchaser]

what are your least favourite marauders headcanons/characterizations?

God... where do I start? I hate nearly all modern characterisations 😭

I will start with the Marauders themselves but what happened to their characters is borderline criminal to me. Fanon Sirius has become a spoiled, shallow, brainless, whiny brat that is helpless and essentially a damsel in distress, waiting for Remus to come and save him. A man who was strong, vivacious, incredibly intelligent, with so much personality and tenacity has been reduced to an absolute idiot. In turn, Remus has been given so many of Sirius’ traits and turned into this uber masculine, super tall Casanova type man that has everyone in love with him. He’s aggressive and confrontational and puts everyone in their place, when canon Remus couldn’t even stand up to his friends and was a self-proclaimed coward. James… oh, James, it pains me because he’s my favourite marauder. He too has been dumbed down and turned into a spineless idiot for Regulus. A man who had one of the most set moral codes in the whole series to the point he saw the world as extremely black and white is turned into someone that throws away his values for the sake of a relationship with his best friend’s estranged brother. Sunshine James is also horrible because the beauty of James’ character is that he had flaws but managed to mature into a great man but still a deeply flawed one, removing that so they can make him a sweet prince willing to be bullied by his super cool and mysterious Slytherin boyfriend. I also hate the Harry-fication of James. Harry had a savior complex due to his circumstances. James did not. James was a bully, this is a fact. No bully has a savior complex. And James would never feel compelled to try and save Regulus and hold his hand to teach a dude younger than him by one year that “hey, wanting to kill people based on the circumstances of their birth is really bad”. He’s pathetic in fanon. An absolute idiot.

The whole of the Slytherin Skittles are awful to me as well. Regulus, Barty and Evan because they have been whitewashed immensely and I do not appreciate that. And Dorcas and Pandora because it makes no sense for them to be in Slytherin and associated with those three. How does Dorcas go from being a Slytherin and friends with aspiring DEs to becoming an important Order member? And how does Pandora go from being born and raised in a pure-blood supremacist family with Death Eaters for parents, never actually rebels against the family like Sirius did, per example, because she remains close with her brother and his future DE buddies but somehow is uncorrupted and goes and marries Xeno and raises someone as pure as Luna? Zero sense. Like I said before, they are there to humanise the three guys.

[patowrd]

alright u know what it is (dando fic snippet pt 3)

“what’re you reading?” lando asks, stepping past daniel, his shorts dripping water onto the pavement as he goes.

it’s a typical evening at the villa, everyone quiet in their rooms or lounging at the beach with work friends. daniel and lando have established camp around the small stone pool, their things splayed around on the grass as they entertain themselves and each other. daniel has lain down on the grass, his shirt off, feeling the softness of small flowers rubbing against the warm expanse of his skin. he lowers the book to his chest to look at lando, the sunlight around his hair bending into a halo.

“echo and narcissus”

an eyebrow raises, “aren’t we fancy.”

daniel feels his cheeks flush, unable to respond without sounding silly or stammery or, well, like he’s got a crush.

it feels juvenile to call it that, borderline pathetic when he really thinks about it, but there’s little else daniel can say to qualify his fondness. it’s not like they’ve done anything, not like he can sense if lando’s interested from the couple of stolen glances he’s caught him shooting his way at the beach. and (without being indiscrete, without pressing his ears to wooden doors or looking through any keyholes) daniel’s heard him a few times, at night, his moans rough and low in the dark chill of the moon.

(he can never quite look luisa in the eye in the morning, can never fully ignore the hickeys just below the seam of lando’s hoodies).

“what’s it about?” lando’s dipped into the pool, and daniel notices the way the tan on his shoulders is deepening by the day into a bronzed glow. he’s rested his head onto his hands at the edge of the water, looking earnestly at daniel as he waits for an answer.

“eh,” he says, turning away, “you wouldn’t like it.”

“indulge me”

and daniel turns back, sunlight blinding him as he explains, “a girl falls in love with the most beautiful boy in the world, and when he dies– ‘cause he’s too busy looking at his own reflection to eat, or sleep, or breathe– she wastes away into nothing but an echo.”

“yawn-awn-awn” lando says, playful tone as his mock echo fades. daniel smiles, turning back to the book, the sun finally out of his eyes.

“it’s pretty good actually”

“you’d die for a guy who’s just… what, looking at himself?”

“it’s not about the literal death, it’s about–” and daniel trails off, unable to make it sound more casual than it is, less topical and pressing than the present moment itself, “it’s about her devotion, her losing herself.” daniel tries to make it seem like it’s not about him, like he isn’t picturing the nights alone staring at the moon with a hand lazily dipped below his waistband. it’s a quiet agony, really, pure pleasure in a restless fit of yearning.

lando is quiet for a moment, his lips pursed as he thinks, eyes trained to the blue-green moss that coats the stones at the edge of the pool. he drops into the water then bobs to the surface, wiping the water away from his eyes as he bites back, “i don’t get the whole,” air quotes rise from the rippling waves, “‘love until you lose yourself’ thing.”

daniel sighs, once again lowering the book and allowing the light to shine over his closed eyes, “well, have you ever been in love?”

he can almost hear the quickened beat of lando’s heart over the confused noise of the city all around. his eyes widen, pupils dilating though mouth closed. the flush over his neck spreads to the tips of his ears, and then, delicately, to the high points of his cheeks. daniel almost feels bad, too brazen, much too bold. he quickly turns away from lando’s sustained gaze and blurts out “you don’t have to answer that, it’s okay.”

“have you?” lando asks, lashes fluttering in a way which daniel doesn’t see because he’s trying not to let it show, how inexperienced he himself is, how raw he feels in front of him now, how naked.

“no” he answers, and lies, “i’m not sure, i don’t think so.”

“have you ever wanted to be?”

“i think i’d–” and he stops himself, weighing his words carefully on the tip of his tongue, “i don’t know how good i’d be at it.”

lando nods, then goes quiet, and the ache that settles in daniel’s chest warms to something fragile, a little tender ball of yearning which he rolls on and under his tongue as he utters it later, in the darkness of his room, “lando, lando, lando.”

[fearyandear]

Loveless: The Consequences of Stealing a Heart

(Inspired by the song 'Loveless' by Strampianist. Sketches posted here!)

A poor boy uses black magic to get the Baker Girl's heart, with terrible consequences.

She was the beloved daughter of the baker and he was the wretched bastard of the lord. Born to one of the wenches in town, his existence was a blight to anyone that saw his sickly body.

The cursed child, doomed to be pitied, doomed to never be loved.

But with her, it was different.

The baker's girl. As warm and soft as the rolls she'd make him. She listened to anyone's problems and always greeted customers with a smile. A friend to all, sweetness incarnate; everyone wanting a piece of her attention meant the scraps she gave him weren't enough to sate him. He needed their time to be special, for her emotions to be more than pity.

He wanted to be selfish. He felt he deserved it.

With the help of dark magic, he could get exactly what he needed.

~

The Lord died within a month. His son followed suit. All hail the Bastard Heir's quick ascendance.

A festival commenced as he was paraded around town. His figure was fuller. His face was more pleasant. Was he always this charming? The town is mesmerized by the transformation, their hazy memories left at the wake.

Yes, he had always been this amazing. Surely, they had all simply been blind before now! They cheered and danced and made merry for the new Lord, someone that cane from the same streets as them, who opened up the sweet caskets of wine from the mansion and celebrated with them. He would rule them fairly. He would be the best.

No one noticed a tingle down their throats as they drank. They were just too happy.

~

When she opened her eyes, nothing was the same. Everything she saw was hazy. Everything she felt was muted. It hurts to try to remember what had happened, but sometimes snippets of memories would slip through the cracks.

A festival.... laughter turning into murmurs... silhouettes against a flame...

That was as far as she could probe. The rest was kept under lock and key.

Life became too busy to probe further. Her hand was asked for that morning by none other than the new lord. Of course, her family wept and accepted. When asked for her opinion so nervously by the man, she couldn't say. Her head nodded without her telling it to.

His smile was like she had given him the sun.

They had their wedding. They had their first night. She was his in a blur. He couldn't be happier, and she could hardly care. The back of her mind continued to prickle on how her life had changed so fast.

Ever since the festival...

She felt like she should investigate. It felt like this was something that mattered.

But she couldn't be bothered to do anything that wasn't asked of her.

She was spoiled and pampered, monitored day and night. He loved her, it was obvious from his borderline obsession with keeping her at his side. But as time wore on, even he was beginning to feel it. It took him long enough to open his eyes to it. His wife wasn't smiling. His wife never asked questions. It was hard to remember her from before her marriage. She'd been eager to talk, cheerful, and bright. Now.... now she just. Couldn't be. And he couldn't wrap his head around why.

He was doing everything right...

Everything a good husband should!

He was distraught... and that emotion turned into an obsession to figure this out.

Why didn't this work? He had asked for everything. He should've been given everything. The town, the riches, the estate, and her heart. But it was all going wrong.

Without the education of the previous owners, he was making bad decisions on how to run his land. Without help to his citizens, a financial crisis was beginning to take hold. With how much time and money he spent on his wife instead, the people were beginning to have their hearts sway. He wasn't the savior they'd hoped for. He was worse.

And his most pathetic strife-

Was that he couldn't get his wife to even smile at him.

He was ruined.

With a riot at his door, he's holed himself in his room. Clutching at his beloved's feet and begging her. He didn't ask for her to love him, not anymore. He knew he was a failure, through and through. All he asked, all he could ask, was for forgiveness. He knew that he would die. He was ready.

Something in seeing this broken man gave her her first memory back from before things got fuzzy. Before.... she realized.... the ritual he had conducted. This was the same boy that had suffered in the streets. The same one she worried over, the same one she'd look after, feed, and care for. Her heart started besting again, and it hurt.

She held his head and surprised him when he looked up and saw her tears. This stupid man with the fake face. She pitied him so much. He shook and called her name. His tone was so hopeful that she would be back. But before she could respond, and before the townspeople could get through their door, time stopped.

A devil appeared, ready for his part of the deal.

'I've come for the souls.'

'You- You can have them! You can even have mine! Just please- please let her live!'

The devil laughed and shook his head. She pressed a claw against the boy's head.

'You should have known better... how this would all play out.'

She snapped her fingers, and the ruckus died. Lights outside flickered out. A deathly silence echoed; the girl had never heard her town like this in all her life. She stared, wide-eyed at the last words of the devil.

'Now you have lost everything. And what better way of continuing my fun than to have you keep living...'

She grinned toothily at the baker girl,delicately dressed and small.

'... without her.'

With another snap of her fingers, the girl felt the floor swallow her. Inky blackness washed through the edges of her vision, and the light from above showed a distraught, screaming, ugly boy failing to reach out for her hand.

She was gone.

[flxshy]

There was little the guardian did know about the new job created by the father. Though watching the archangel take it so seriously when this was heaven, and there was no threat of bad doings in the gates… well it was comical in the least. So instead she watched him with a neutral expression for some time. Eyebrows raising in amusement as the man seemed to almost flounder about over orders from the top. 

Sure mortals were fragile little things, created to die, but really whose fault was that? They were supposed to be perfect creations, but Lucifer had to tromp on down and ruin that didn’t he? That pathetic man, he deserved what he got and she hoped he suffered. 

Sera had stepped up and done what was necessary. Taking care of the first soul to ensure that his life was much better than hew was originally given. It was the least they could do. He was supposed to live on earth peaceful and spoiled by the vegetation that the father had given him. Not cast out thanks to some whore who didn’t know her place. 

“You have a few hundred years then. A party won’t affect that timeline. So come on, lighten up a little and live your new life. Aren’t you just a few years old?”

She steps back hands still cradling the precious soul that she had been waiting so long for. Almost taking the job of protection under her own wings. Always wanting someone so desperately to watch over. She had already made friends with him, so this was just the best time to give him a tour of his new home. 

“Oh please, live a little. We will be having wine for once and it will be a good time for you to get to know the other angels.”

The confirmation made the woman smile, a curt nod of her head, The task was done and she had won. Even offering a borderline condescending wave back to the archangel as she left. 

“See you at the party.”

His eyes lowered at her words. He.. he had to take his job seriously! Didn't they have any idea how fragile a soul was? He was made to ensure they reached the afterlife unscathed, that they could have a easy journey to their final resting place.

He was created as a vain way of controlling the unstoppable force that was Death in creation, of ensuring Heaven could keep a firm grasp on it and what it did to mortals. The Father had only gifted him with such terrible knowledge of its inevitability, trying to prepare the young archangel for the mortals he would no doubt encounter in the future. Those who feared it, who would hate him for it...

Sure, he was young, only a few years compared to how many the others in the room had on them. But he had to hit the ground running from his mere conception. Adam had been his first target, to seek out the first man and ensure he had a peaceful death before bringing him here.

And he'd done just that! Only.. the other half of his work was so unceremoniously swept under the rug by Sera.

Lute mentioning Lucifer made him wince however. Right... The seraphim they had told him 'rebelled and let evil into the world'. He never had the chance to see the seraphim for himself but, everyone seemed to skirt around the truth. Saying he was 'too young to understand' or to just 'focus on his job'.

He only knew Heaven's side of events.

"No, no that's fair. Things need to remain in balance." He did not his head. Lute was, right at least in this case. They seemed to have plans for Adam here in Heaven, so no doubt regardless of the scales; this outcome would have been the same no matter what he ruled. This was all just a formality, a paper trail.

"No, I know.. The father has told me it will start to pick up in a few hundred years though. I need to find a rhythm before then." A nervous chuckle. He was.. certainly worried if it was going to continue to just be him. Humans couldn't procreate.. THAT fast, could they?

"Ah- Mmm... I'll probably just, ah- watch." The idea of 'meeting someone' didn't really seem to sit with Azrael. But, he wasn't about to argue with any of that.

"Well.. it's official now, the first man, Adam, has been accepted into Heaven." He spoke in a more official standing tone as he closed the book. A flash of light from within it would ensure that what was written within would be law and unchangeable. Well.. He'd been told it was unchangeable.

'Thank you, Azrael. I will be by later to take your scales in to have them checked. Lute, go ahead and take Adam to get his wings.' Sera's smile felt.. so fake to Azrael as he would simply sit down at his desk. He was still shaking a little from when Lute grabbed him. No words to comfort him, just.. her usual outward appearance of 'perfection'.

It bothered him...

[dilftaroooo]

≪ᖭི༏ᖫྀ≫ tags: quarterback!sukuna x f!reader + reader being bold n shit + sukuna being a poopy brain fart + suggestive + kissing + full blown sex + exhibitionism (bc public area ig) + dumbification(?) + i probably spelled some shit wrong but idc + imma stay ignorant lmao.

The immaculate spoonful of overconfidence you took suppressed your hunger for vengeance, it was evident in the way you strut towards the men's locker room—in the straightness of your back and the puff of your chest, even the typical skittish grin you casted was overshadowed by the resting bitch face you'd see in your average highschool clique in teenage movies. This look was a complete 180 but as soon as you rudely burst through the doors leading in the men's room, ready to give that inconsiderate scumbag a piece of your mind, it appeared that facade diminished when meeting the sight of Sukuna's godly physique.

His sharp jawline subtly darkened by the upcoming stubble resulting from forgetfulness, the defined and chiseled abs looking robust under the gleaming white light of the room, down to the patch of pubes and the clean V-line leading to what you can tell would be a blanket clencher (the outline through the towel gave you all you needed to know) -- Good Lord almighty.

Guess you needed more than a spoonful of overconfidence.

"Hell are you doing here...?" Fuck, his exhaustion mixed with his gruff voice was a harsh reminder of how this man was the recipe for seduction, almost made you forget the real reason why you came there.

Bringing up the little self-assurance you had left, you speak out. "I'm tired of you treating me like I'm not a grown ass woman, Sukuna." Ok, what else? "-belitting me, calling me names, borderline harassing me? This isn't high school!" There. What's said is said.

Sukuna's reaction to your outburst was by giving a brief stare before focusing on his hygiene, applying the Old Spice deodorant under his arms amid to your disbelief at his lack of interest. You can smell the potent fragrance whiff past your nose despite your distance.

"Is that all?" He asks. An absolute dick he is. You suck your teeth and steadily walk towards the enervated quarterback to his surprise at the sudden boldness, the sharp ruby eyes remained on you until his time to swiftly react comes. Ignoring the sneeze edging to come out due to his cologne, you point a finger to one of his pecs in attempts to intimidate him (if that's the word you wanna choose).

"Don't give me that shit. Can you even acknowledge my emotions? I'm being straightforward with how I feel and that's how you respond? I don't know why you're so popular, the whole University knows who you are! You act as though you're some demigod who shined upon earth but you're just... y-yet you're just-" Words stopped at the pit of your throat, so blinded by indignance but it wasn't until Sukuna gave you a faux sympathetic pout before enveloping you into his arms, heat of his chest warming your left cheek, you were shocked.

"Oh my poor, poor, princess, she's so blinded by fuming anger it even has her st-st-stuttering..!" He quips. His hold was so tight it almost seemed like he had no plans of letting go and it left you a flustered mess. Schooching your way out his grasp became futile so you had to resort to speaking up.

"Sukuna, get off of me." He hums in confusion.

"What was that? Thought you needed comfort after your cute rampage, do you not? Do you not like it when I hug you like this?"

You dismay your embarrassment and Sukuna's mischievious manner and speak up, surprised you've both been in the locker alone for so long, the idea of someone walking in started to plague your mind. "It's not that, someone can walk in at any moment."

"You didn't think of that before you came bursting in here, now didja?" You pathetically shake your head. "Thought not. And besides, you didn't deny the fact that you don't like me hugging you like this. Maybe this'll be a good time to make up for all the bad things I've done." From your waist to your neck, Sukuna's hands softly caressed you like he was your lover, his touch was addicting then he gradually cups your cheeks in the palm of his hands.

"Sukuna...?" His lips were hovering over yours, if he moved another centimeter he'd be giving you a deep kiss as of now, but that didn't happen. Instead, his lips glide down to the slope of your neck, his kisses were wet with the water from his shower, the shape of puckered lips then gifted you with kisses on your collarbone. You froze like a block of ice as he provided you with sensual affection like no other, then one thing lead to the next and you're pushed against the locker and your panties found way around your knees to favor the throbbing head of Sukuna's cock, already balls deep in your aching pussy.

You both reeked of sex emerging from your pores, Sukuna's shower be damned. Old Spice overpowered by must from sweat he was losing from fucking you silly. Every stroke emitted a hot gasp and whimper as hands fondled with your breasts. The wet slaps of both sexes disrespectfully hitting one another bounced across the room so cacophonously it's a miracle that nobody came to see what the ruckus was about.

"There we go, pretty girl, take my dick. Aww such a champ." Sukuna savored the way your ass rippled for him as he took you from the back. "Wish you could see how greedy this pussy is, swallowing me whole."

"All that pent up frustration all you needed was a good fuck, huh? Someone to fuck this cunt all sloppy til' ya head is all fuzzy? Ya' still hate me now..?" All that was uttered was your guttural moan revealing itself to Sukuna. Making you sound like a fucking idiot, a sound he was very much fond of.

Sukuna rewards you with a wet kiss on the cheek before hauling you up on his shoulder to take you to the shower, planning on resuming both your deeds in the semi-privacy behind the loose curtains. With that water running, it barely covers the sounds of sex from within but you guess it doesn't matter as long as you have Sukuna fucking you braindead <3

[rosaline-black]

𝙸𝚝𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔-𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚆𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚢

Summary:  Fred has targeted you with teasing and pranks for two years and then just stops... could there be more too his petulance...

Category: Fred Weasley X Fem!Reader

Why do Slytherins get such bad reputations? It was a question that played on your mind constantly. There were a lot of crazed pureblood fanatics in your house sure, but that didn't mean you were one of them. And as Fred Weasley turned your hair into a shade of Gryffindor burgundy you had the temptation to prove him right. Act up to the evil persona he'd labelled you with. But you didn't.

"Really no retaliation l/n?" He teased like always.

Fred loved picking on you. It was never usually malicious, but in recent months his casual pranks on you went from playful to terrorising. His words were harsher, he was more consistent and constant with the inconveniences he payed you, it was getting tiresome to say the least.

"I have nothing to say to you Weasley... unlike you I didn't fail charms so I can change my hair back..." you spat grabbing your bag and leaving the library where he had snuck up on you.

"Ouch another intelligence jab.. not got anything stronger to hit me with?" He bit back, hot on your tail.

"Unlike you I don't feel the need to drag whatever this pathetic hatred is... seriously Fred just leave me alone..."

Any other day you'd take his borderline bullying. Ignore the comparisons to snakes and the hateful words about your appearance. But after staying up all night to study for exams, a painful detention with umbridge and a horrid letter from your family, you really weren't in the mood.

"I thought you were tougher then that l/n..."

"Well maybe I'm not... maybe I'm just as pathetic and stupid as everyone thinks I am Weasley..." you shouted looking him in the eye. Maybe if your eyes weren't so blurry from staying up all night, you would of seen the guilt and regret in the gingers eyes but you didn't have time. Instead you turned on your heel and stomped to the dungeons.

Fred was shocked. This was a stupid plan. A very stupid idea on his part. But when you're in love with someone you're certain would never like you the same it seems the only option is to do what any reasonable person would do. Tease them mercilessly.

Yeah it was stupid. And deep down he could see how he chipped away at you every time he'd jinx your shoelaces to tie together or confundus charm your pot of ink to spill all over your notes. He just didn't know how else to approach you. HE was the pathetic one and he knew it.

After watching you storm away Fred and sulked all the way to the Gryffindor common room where George was jotting down ideas for their latest prank. He had no right to be angry, he had caused your sadness. Now he'd dug himself a hole he wasn't sure how to escape.

"Merlin mate what's up with you?" George asked as he observed his twin moping on the couch with his head in his hands "This isn't about l/n again is it?"

George knew his brother better then anyone. For the most part they shared the same brain. It was obvious to him that he had feelings for you and truthfully it bothered him how he approached the situation. It bothered him even more that he understood why. He was scared.

"What the fuck makes you mention that snake.." Fred scoffed.

"You're not fooling anyone Freddie... maybe her... but definitely not me..." George snarked

Fred sighed and gave up trying to hide it. He turned to his brother who was smiling all too knowingly "I've fucked up mate..."

"Why doesn't that surprise me... were you mean to her again?" George asked

"I charmed her hair Gryffindor red... and then she stormed away.. and then shouted at me.."

George was taken back. Sure you'd snark back at his twin but for the most part you just ignored him "Maybe she was having a bad day... and you just made it so much worse..."

"What can I do then George? What can I do too not make her hate me any more then she already does..."

"Right well..."

In the following weeks you noticed a massive change in your schooling life. The lessons you had weren't nearly as stressful, you didn't have a drumming of anxiety in your chest walking to the dungeons or a need to double check your surroundings.

And then it clicked. Fred had stopped teasing you. It was weird, you'd almost become so used to the constant pestering you'd forgotten what it was like before fourth year where Fred would leave you alone.

In classes he didn't really say two words or would now and again pass you the textbook required before you had a chance to get up and grab one. He was being dare you say pleasant?

One Monday afternoon where you were lounging by the black lake, you could see a tall shadow looming over you. You expected to see Adrian Pucey , one of your Slytherin friends, but you physically flinched at the site of Fred Weasley stood before you.

"What do you want Weasley!?" You snapped standing to meet his eyes.

Fred had been naive enough to think that since his attitude towards you had changed from awful to pleasant you'd be a little warmer too him. He was clearly wrong as a frown broke out on his face from your tone.

"Just thought I'd come say hi?" He said awkwardly. He rarely saw you on your own outside of school, especially where there was no one watching so he had to take his chance to get you alone.

"Where's the prank or the hex then? Just do it.. I'd rather you get it over with so I can go back to my book..." you replied coldly.

"T-theres no prank I was legitimately just saying hello..."

"What the fuck is up with you!?" You shouted. Confusion had now overwhelmed you. He'd been nothing but cruel for two years and was now trying to make an effort to be kind, it didn't add up. No way would you be the butt of another joke him and his Gryffindor friends could laugh about.

"What's my problem!? What's yours... I'm just saying hi and your biting my head off!?"

"Do you fucking blame me!? You've been horrible for two years Fred... terrorising me because I'm a Slytherin!? I've had to look over my shoulder for two years and now you decide that after being decent for a couple weeks you can just come here and everything will be fine? You're more arrogant then I thought..." you shouted. Unloading two years worth of pent up confusion and frustration.

"I'm sorry..." Fred whispered softly, only now seeing how his petulant fear of liking you had driven you too feel mentally worse. He'd never felt so shit in his life.

"Are you really? Just why Weasley... why me? What did I do to deserve it?" You asked honestly. Sure you were a Slytherin but there were plenty of others in your year that he had no issue with, and before fourth year the two of you had no problems whatsoever, it didn't add up.

"Honestly y/n no messing up this year.. you're aware of the consequences if your grades are not adequate.." Your mother lectured you as you arrived at the platform going into your fourth year.

You were unaware of the stare being thrown your way from a particular ginger who's eyes were wide, his mouth agape. It would be a lie to say puberty hadn't hit you over summer. You had gone from a girl to a young woman and your beauty was now more apparent then ever.

This was now very visible to Fred. He'd always noticed you in class, but now it wasn't just a passing thought on your face being pretty. Now it was a strong yearning to be around you, to throw you against the wall and kiss you.

No way could he let these feelings surface.

"You did nothing..." he replied looking into your eyes which were heavy with hurt. And within a moment you had left him alone by the lake.

*******

It had been another few months free of Fred's teasing. Now however he wasn't just being decent, he was being kind. He'd offer you help in classes he was particularly good at, smile softly when he saw you in the halls or if you'd catch his eye at dinner.

It was odd. It annoyed you that you didn't hate him anymore. Really you should still hate him, but every time you'd look in those big brown eyes it was hard to no internally melt.

You were walking to breakfast one morning when you heard your name being mentioned in a conversation close by. You hid behind one of the pillars in the corridor and soon recognised who the voices belonged too. Angelina Johnson, Katie bell... and Fred Weasley.

"I don't know why you're even being nice to that skank.. apparently she's slept with like half of the Slytherin boys in our year..." Angelina's voice called out. She seemed angry at you and you really didn't understand why, you also didn't understand where this information had come from? What a load of shit.

"Don't call her that..." Fred defended you his voice stern and clearly angry.

"Would you rather me use slut then? Or would whore be more fitting..." Angelina spat.

"Try intuitive..." you called out appearing from behind the pillar. Your face seething with fury.

Angelina's face dropped. She looked ready to pass out, clearly not used to having people hear the stuff she thinks about them said to their faces.

"Silent now? Figures..." you stated rolling your eyes before walking off the other way, oblivious to the Weasley chasing behind you.

"Wait!! Y/n wait!" He bellowed until you were both far away from the the bustle of students.

 "What do you want!?" You asked still seething from the lies that had been spread about you.

"I just thought I'd tell you.. I know your not a slut or anything I don't know why she'd even say that... are you okay?" He asked genuinely concerned that you had taken her stupid words to heart.

"I'm fine... I'm a big girl Fred..."

Fred's face lit up at your words and it confused you at first. That was until you had used his first name for the first time.

"You can't take it back now..." he grinned

"Why do you care what I call you anyways Weasley?" You asked with a brow quirked, hiding your own smirk.

"Honestly?" He said suddenly feeling like he had nothing to lose "Cause I'm in love with you... and I have been for ages... and instead of approaching you normally I was a class prick... and now I'm rambling like even more of a prick..." he trailed off.

Your mouth was wide and in shock. He was in love with you? The girl he'd made feel like shit for two years? If didn't feel real.

"You're pranking me aren't you..." you murmured timidly. It was the only thing that seemed to make sense.

"If it was a prank would I do this..." in one swift motion Fred had pulled you by your waist and your lips had collided. It annoyed you how good he tasted, it annoyed you that so many butterflies erupted in your stomach. When you got the sense back you pulled away looking to the floor.

"Let me take you out to Hogsmeade... or.. or just spend time with me please.. I was awful to you y/n.. completely rotten but I need to prove to you that I'm not just a dick..."

You sighed and once your eyes met his you were a goner "okay... but this doesn't mean I forgive you.."

The grin on Fred's face was priceless and before you could protest he'd planted a big sloppy kiss on your cheek "You won't regret it y/n!"