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aperrywilliams · 1 year ago

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Little Big Secret (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credits to the creator)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: You’re 36 weeks pregnant with Spencer’s baby. What happens when you are about to give birth and need to contact Spencer while he is in a case out of town?

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Pregnancy and labor symptoms are described. Some strong words. If I missed something, let me know. It's a fluffy one. Dad!Spencer coming to light. The chaotic trio I love having their moment (Reid-Morgan-Prentiss).

A/N: I wrote this fic based on this request. I loved doing it! Let me know what you think.

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Being 36 weeks pregnant and stuck in your apartment trying to convince your non-born baby girl to stop kicking your guts is not funny. It's worse when the same scenario occurs at 3 am, and you are alone, unable to sleep in the last 24 hours, exhausted and sentimental because your boyfriend Spencer isn't home.

You won't tell him that, though. You convinced him to go with the team to Trenton for a case, telling him you would be okay and that baby girl Reid won't be here for at least two weeks. That's what your doctor said to you in the last appointment.

Reluctantly Spencer agreed, making you swear you would call him or your sister if anything happened.

"Relax, baby. Everything will be okay. We'll be here when you return from your case," you assured him. "You have to go while you can. Once this girl is born, you'll be stuck here and will get tired of us," you giggled. Spencer's eyes widened.

"What? No! Get tired of you? Never!"

"About that. Do they know why you are taking leave in the next weeks?"

"Not really. Hotch knows, but the rest assume I'll go to see my mom," your boyfriend shrugged.

You still find it unbelievable that the best-known profilers in the country haven't noticed one of their own has a girlfriend for three years and a baby on the way.

At first, you had your apprehensions about why Spencer didn't want his team to know your existence. You thought maybe Spencer felt embarrassed because of you or didn't consider your relationship worth enough for them to know. But your boyfriend assured you it was anything but that. He told you what happened to Haley, Hotch's wife, and the multiple times a team's family member has been exposed to danger because of their job. He wanted you safe. He wanted to protect you.

The only one who knew about you was Hotch, Spencer's boss. But he, better than anyone, could understand Spencer's reasons, so he hadn't said anything.

You understood it and accepted it, even if you both knew that at some point, your secret would not be a secret anymore. For now, it was safer like this.

Exhaustion was all you got now, and even you have been trying to bribe your unborn daughter with chocolates if she behaved and let you sleep. It seemed you succeeded as she stopped making a party in your womb.

You fall asleep thinking about how your life has changed in the past years and how happy you were despite how uncomfortable pregnancy was at this point.

The next morning you woke up feeling a little better. Sleep helped, but your body was still tense, so you thought a warm bath after breakfast was a good idea to relax your sore muscles.

You were finishing your pancakes when Spencer called you.

"Hey, baby!" You greeted.

"Good morning, my love. How did you sleep?"

You didn't have the heart to tell him how uncomfortable you were last night.

"Good. Everything is good here. How is the case?" You tried to direct the topic to him. Spencer sighed.

"I think we are close to catching the unsub, but it had been hard," he confessed.

"I know you'll get him soon," you assured him. Spencer chuckled. He loved how you were always rooting for him. You were his biggest fan.

"I hope so. And you? Our baby girl has been good? When I come back-" he didn't even finish the sentence when someone called his name in the distance. 'Reid! We need you now!'

A heavy sigh left Spencer's lips.

"I'm sorry, love. I got to go," he mumbled into the receiver, guilt dripping from his voice.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't apologize and go to catch the bad guy," you encouraged him.

"I will. I love you so so much. And I love our little one. I promise to make it up to you both, okay?"

"I love you more. We'll be waiting for you."

Despite your efforts to relax during your bath, it seemed baby Reid had other plans, like moving and squeezing your insides. You tried singing to her, telling stories, and everything that came to mind.

You gave up and hopped off the tub. You dried your body and decided to watch some TV. After a while, stuck in a random show, the noise lulled you to sleep without noticing.

Everything would have been perfect if it weren't for the fact that an intense pain woke you up suddenly. You didn't know the time, but the TV was still on. You tried to sit on the sofa, but the pain wouldn't leave you, so much so that it was hard for you to breathe. The twisting in your belly was stronger than you'd ever felt and scaring you.

"My sweet girl, I know you're eager to see us, but you have some days left in Mommy's womb, so try to be nice, okay?" You panted, trying to reason with your baby.

You weren't ready to give birth, let alone without Spencer.

But, again, baby Reid had her own plans.

Another sharp pang made you slouch on the sofa; this time, you felt something warm running down your legs. You looked down and saw the liquid drip onto the couch and slide to the floor.

Fuck. Your water just broke.

The morning was a rush for the whole team and the Tremont police. After an anonymous tip, they located the guy who fitted the profile and ended up being the unsub they were looking for. As he had a hostage, the team moved quickly to the warehouse where he kept captive his ex-girlfriend, the source of his rage. Before things went further, Rossi's shot ended with the unsub screaming in pain and the hostage a nervous wreck but unharmed.

Spencer couldn't believe it took them a whole week to locate the bastard, but it was finally done. So they returned to the precinct to wrap the last details and go home.

Spencer was pulling the case photos off the board when his phone started ringing. He saw it was you and hastened to answer. Usually, you didn't call him while he was working.

"Hello?"

But a loud grunt came to his ear instead of your sweet voice. Spencer's eyes widened.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?"

You barely could say a word, the intense pain reducing you to heavy breathing and whimpers.

"Spence-" you managed to say. "The baby. It hurts."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening."Where are you? What's wrong? Where is Tania?"

Too many questions, and you had answers for all of them. But it was difficult to say a word with the pain cursing your body. After the contraction subsided, you could speak.

"My water broke. I'm home, and Tania doesn't answer. I don't know- ahhhh, fuck!!!"

Shit. You were in labor and alone at home. Spencer wanted to throw up.

"Baby, listen to me. I will call 911, but I need you to breathe, okay?"

"No! Spencer, don't hang up. I need you," you cried.

Spencer paced frantically in the room as Emily, Morgan, and Rossi looked at him, worried.

To call 911? Who the hell was he talking to?

"Reid? What is it?" Morgan tried to get his attention, but Spencer's brain was trying to make a plan to help you without stopping talking to you.

“(Y/N), please. I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me, please?"

JJ and Hotch entered the room at that moment. Both frowned when they saw Spencer pacing and the rest standing and waiting to know what was going on and what to do to help Spencer.

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?"

You couldn't reply to him, crying in pain instead. Spencer thought he could die of panic.

"Yes. But I can't move," you sobbed.

Hotch didn't need much to understand what was going on. Grabbing his phone, he called Penelope.

Spencer was reduced to dumb and didn't know what to do.

"Garcia, I need you to call 911 and dispatch an ambulance to..." he paused and looked at Spencer, who was talking to you. "Reid," Hotch named. When he got no response, he tried louder. "Reid! Where? Where is she?" Spencer's face found Hotch's.

"At my place," he told his boss.

"Garcia, an ambulance to Reid's address. Report a pregnant woman in labor that needs to go to the hospital. I need you to go there too. Make sure she gets to the hospital alright. I'll give you more information later."

Pregnant woman in labor at Spencer's address?

Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi shared the same confused looks.

"Baby, the help is on the way. Penelope knows and will help you to go to the hospital. She has a key, so don't worry. I'm on my way, okay? I'll call Tania too," Spencer informed you, moving to collect his things.

"Please, hurry up," you begged. As the call ended, Spencer turned to see his boss.

"Hotch. I have to-. I need to-," Spencer stuttered. Aaron nodded.

"It'll be okay; we are leaving now," he assured Spencer.

Morgan was the first to bring the elephant in the room.

"Can you tell us what's going on?"

Then, Spencer noticed the team hearing the whole ordeal.

"Uh. My 36-week pregnant girlfriend is giving birth to my daughter right now, and she's alone. I need to be there," Spencer succinctly explained as he dialed (Y/N)'s sister's number again without luck.

To say the team was shocked was an understatement. But there wasn't time to ask questions. They needed to move quickly.

Hotch was who took the lead.

"Morgan, you'll drive to the hospital with Reid and Prentiss now. I'll stay with JJ and Rossi to pack everything and follow you. The drive to DC is about three hours; make it two. I'll take care of the traffic police," he said to Morgan, who nodded, grabbing the car keys. "Prentiss, you'll get an open line with Garcia while she joins (Y/N) and takes her to the hospital. Now go!" Hotch instructed, now patting Spencer's back. "You'll get on time. Go," he told Spencer, who nodded and stomped from the room, followed by Morgan and Prentiss.

"Hey, Reid. We'll make it, kid," Morgan assured while driving on the highway, Emily as the copilot. In the back seat, Spencer couldn't stop bouncing his leg, worried about if the ambulance had already taken you to the hospital. On cue, Emily's phone went off.

"Garcia, you're on speaker," Emily announced.

"My lovelies, good news. I got your girl, boy Wonder, and we're heading to the hospital. Besides the pain, she's fine," Garcia recounted, and Spencer could breathe again.

"Can I talk to her?" Spencer asked.

"No, yet; they have her in the stretcher and with oxygen while monitoring her, but as we reach the hospital and will get her admitted, we can call you again. Nonetheless, she asked me to tell you she hated you for putting a baby in her. I really like this girl already," Garcia quipped, making laugh Emily and Morgan. Spencer's cheeks flushed.

"Garcia?" He sheepishly asked. "Can you tell her I love her and am on my way?"

Morgan and Prentiss looked at each other briefly. They still couldn't believe what was happening, but either way, they had a mission to accomplish: get to the hospital before you gave birth, so the resident genius could see his baby born.

"Sure thing. I will. I'll keep you posted," Garcia assured before hanging up.

Spencer could sense that Emily and Morgan were itching to cover him with questions, but knowing his nervous state, they were respectful enough not to say anything.

"I'm sorry, guys. I didn't tell you anything about (Y/N) before," he mumbled.

"And the baby," Emily added with a non-malice tone.

Spencer's face fell with embarrassment. They were his family, after all. And he kept this little big secret from them.

"But we get it, Reid. We do," Morgan ensured.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. We all know this job, and we want the best for our loved ones, keeping them safe," Prentiss said, turning to see Spencer, who nodded. "What I still can't believe is that you kept us in the dark for three years, and none of us ever suspected a thing. They should fire us," Emily added, making Spencer chuckle.

"What I can't believe is you were able to make someone fall in love with you," Morgan quipped, smirking and gaining a slap on the arm from Prentiss. "And get her pregnant! You have been having a game all this time, and I still thought I needed to be your wingman," Morgan scoffed.

"Worst wingman on earth. He had had to do all the work for himself," Emily added. The three laughed.

They were still with an ETA of one hour when Penelope Facetimed.

"Garcia! How is she?" Spencer rushed to ask.

"Hello to you, genius," Penelope greeted. "(Y/N) is already in a room. She's 7 centimeters of dilatation, so we're waiting," she informed, turning the camera to focus you on the bed, exhausted but relieved of being in the hospital already.

"Honey!" Spencer shouted as Garcia handed the phone.

"Are you coming?" you asked in a broken tone. You didn't have much energy at this point.

"Yes! On my way now. Morgan is driving us with Emily," he informed you.

"We're almost there, pretty girl!" Morgan yelled from the driver's seat.

You let a wary smile. Spencer only wanted to be there with you so he could hold you.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled.

"No. No. Why are you sorry? You have nothing to apologize for, okay?" Spencer hastened to point.

"Our little big secret is no longer a secret," you pouted, feeling guilty about the whole ordeal.

"Baby, it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is you and our little girl being okay. Believe me; it's the only that matters to me. I'm sorry for leaving you," Spencer sniffled.

"I love you," you said, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"And I love you so much," Spencer declared, wiping his tears.

You both kept in Facetime for a while. Spencer tried to keep you focused on anything but the pain, though it was difficult when a deep contraction raked your body from time to time.

Spencer recited your favorite poems and stories and recounted your best memories together. As a natural thing, Emily, Morgan, or Penelope made questions and comments about the things you or Spencer said. That helped. You felt accompanied, not only by your boyfriend but also by the beautiful people who were taking care of you and him. If you ever thought Spencer's coworkers didn't care about him, now all those doubts are cleared.

"We're getting there in five!" Morgan announced.

"Garcia, please tell the staff Spencer is coming so they let him rush upstairs," Emily requested.

"On it!" Garcia chirped. “The doctor is here, so I’ll hang up. Boy Wonder, the third floor, hall to the left,” she informed before the call ended.

Pushing the brakes in front of the hospital’s entrance, Morgan turned to Spencer.

"Go, pretty boy. We'll be there waiting," the man assured.

"Go to see your girls," Emily added. Spencer’s eyes were full of tears.

"Thank you. Really, thank you so much," he voiced before climbing off the SUV and rushing inside the hospital.

The doctor announced you were almost ready to give birth now. Just another centimeter of dilation, and you’ll need to push. After he left, you squeezed Penelope’s hand hard. You weren't sure you could do this.

“It’s okay, pumpkin. You can do it. Spencer is already here,” she comforted you. Garcia had just ended her sentence when Spencer rushed inside the room, panting and looking frantically. When he spotted you, you could see the tears in his eyes.

“Spencer!” you cried. He quickly lugged to your side. Garcia sighed, relieved that he was there. Spencer held your hand now, kissing your temple.

“I’m here, my love. I’m here. I won’t leave again,” he chanted, stroking your damped hair.

It was Penelope’s cue to leave the couple alone. But before Garcia crossed the threshold, Spencer ran to her and wrapped her in the tightest embrace he ever gave her.

“Thank you, thank you. For everything,” he mumbled. Garcia could have started crying, but it would be time for that later.

“Anytime, my love. Now go back to your woman. We’ll be outside waiting.” A grateful Spencer nodded before joining you again.

You didn't reach the last centimeter until an hour later. Spencer stood by your side, chanting praises and pushing away your sweat with a cloth whenever you needed it.

When the time came, you were pushing with all the strength you left, but your little girl wasn’t doing it easy for you.

“Spencer, I can’t,” you sobbed. Spencer kissed your head and stroked your hand.

“I know you’re exhausted, my love. But you’re almost there. We’re going to meet our little girl. Want that, right, my little pumpkin?” he talked now to your belly. The waiting room is full of aunts and uncles, ready to see you. They already love you, even if they didn't know about you until three hours ago,” Spencer pointed, and you let out a little chuckle in the middle of the pain.

The feeling of being cared for and loved gave you the last ounce of energy you needed. In the next contraction, you pushed harder, ending with a loud baby cry. Your daughter was here.

When they put her in your arms, wrapped in a white blanket, you couldn't believe it. She was the most beautiful baby in the world—the best combination between Spencer and you.

“You did so good, my love. She’s wonderful, and she’s here with us,” Spencer said, voice full of emotion and tears freely rolling down his cheeks.

You couldn’t stop looking at her.

“Our little big secret,” you cooed. “You’re a lucky baby already,” you whispered to her. Spencer chuckled.

“Should I go to tell them?” He asked you.

“They will kill you if you don’t,” you quipped.

When Spencer showed up in the waiting room, Hotch, Rossi, and JJ were there too.

All eyes were on him.

“A 7 pounds, 2 ounces, and 19.6 inches healthy baby girl,” Spencer announced, the biggest grin plastered on his face.

The room erupted in cheers and claps, everyone taking turns to hug the new father.

Once everyone calmed down, Spencer cleared his throat.

“I want to apologize for keeping this from you. I don't want you to think I don't trust or care enough to tell you about the important things in my life. It's just- you know,” Spencer trailed off. Rossi patted his shoulder.

“We know, kid. We really do,” the older man assured him.

“Yeah, Spence. We understand. That doesn't mean it’s not a big thing, but we get it,” JJ seconded.

“We are just jealous because Hotch was the only one who knew,” Garcia scoffed.

“Boss privilege, I guess,” Hotch shrugged, making the rest laugh.

“Well, being (Y/N) and baby Reid not a little big secret anymore, we can meet them properly, right?” Morgan pointed.

“Oh, yes! Please! I want to meet my goddaughter!” Garcia chirped, and Spencer looked at her, frowning.

“Don’t look at me like that, doctor. I won the privilege when I held that poor woman in pain,” she added.

“Maybe you’ll be the godmother, but I’ll be the cool aunt,” Emily chirped.

“And I’ll be Papa Rossi,” David seconded.

Spencer shook his head, laughing as everyone on the team fought for a place in his daughter's life.

He was so happy to have you and baby Reid. But now his happiness was complete knowing he could share it, and his whole found family could be part of it.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #little big secret #aperrywilliams #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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osarina · 3 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 OFFER ME MY DEATHLESS DEATH

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: one drunken encounter with dazai sends everything spiraling. suddenly, all of your problems are catching up to you at once and you're lost as to how you should proceed... or that's not entirely true—you know how you're going to proceed but it's impossible for you to come to terms with how far you've let this go.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: sorry that i haven't really been active this week </3 i've been so busy. ill try to get to asks and everything soon. forgive me</3 i hope you guys enjoy part 5, i rlly had fun writing this chapter. as always, comments and reblogs appreciated!

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited - i've been busy. reader and dazai argue, reader is a bit intoxicated, dazai heavily implied suicide attempt (not outright said/described bc he can't remember, but he assumes that's what happened) & he dissociates, dazai is in a pretty bad mental state the first half of the chapter, i don't think i'm missing anything but pls lmk if i am, i didn't have time to reread

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

You stopped seeking him out after that night.

Dazai sits in his apartment, knees curled to his chest and back pressed against the wall. He has to forcibly keep his breath steady—his homework for his engineering class is discarded somewhere to his left, he’d been working on it for class tomorrow before he made the mistake of checking his phone and seeing that you’d once again stopped reading his messages.

Two days straight now of silence on your end. He could go to your apartment like he’s been doing for the past two weeks but every time he tries to push himself to his feet with the intention of going to you, he finds himself rooted to the ground. Your words ring damningly and persistently through his head—how you told Nakahara Chuuya that you’re only doing this because he found the proof of your occupation, how you told him that you tried to cut him off.

Dazai knew what he was doing by using the video as leverage over you. He knew he was forcing you into indulging him, that he was backing you into a corner, but he’d allowed himself to be blinded by your treatment of him.

Even if it was coerced, no one has ever treated him the way you do—you remember the things he tells you off-handedly like he matters and you buy him the things he wants without him having to say anything like you care. You’re gentle with him—Dazai has only ever experienced bruising touches; Oda and Ango weren’t physical people and he can hardly remember his mother. He remembers the way his aunt dragged him out of the car kicking and screaming, tossing him to the ground in Suribachi before driving away. He remembers all of the nights he would get drunk at bars, ending up in strangers’ beds and waking up with a body that ached painfully and dark marks littered across his bandaged skin.

It’s hard to remember that you don’t actually want him when you treat him the same way he’s dreamed someone would treat him one day. It’s hard to remember that you turn your head away when he leans in to kiss you, that you ignore his lingering touches and change the subject whenever he almost gathers the nerve to bring the topic up to you.

You don’t want him.

He’s forcing you to do this by using the video as leverage.

You don’t want him.

He rests his forehead on his knees. That gaping hole in his chest that had started to return that night after Nakahara Chuuya showed up at your apartment is all consuming now. His entire body feels numb and prickly, he feels uncomfortable in his own skin.

He needs to put a stop to this.

His gaze draws from his knees to the floorboard he’s hiding the flash drive under. He could just… get rid of it. Get rid of it and disappear—you probably wouldn’t even notice. Maybe you would, he remembers how you came to his apartment when you hadn’t heard from him after sending the couch. Then again, you might’ve only shown up because you wanted to lie about why you were cutting him off. Dazai just doesn’t know with you.

Maybe he should just go to talk to you.

But if he talks to you… and the thought of leaving his apartment right now…

Dazai sighs, leaning back against the wall, tilting his head to look up at the ceiling, weighing both options carefully before coming to a heavy decision.

You’re not in your apartment when he gets there.

Dazai would usually wander around and find something to make himself busy with while he waits for you. You have a piano on the opposite side of the room that he sometimes likes to fiddle with—he’s taught himself a few basic songs while waiting for you to get back from work the past few weeks. He ordered a gaming console and a few games to go along with it when you made the mistake of leaving your laptop open last week, but he doesn’t even have the energy to go look for one; not that any are even particularly standing out to him. Sometimes, he just snoops around, but his legs feel like lead, like they’re bolted to the ground, so he just sits on your couch and stares at the black television screen as the minutes tick by.

He doesn’t even know how long he’s been sitting there—too long, it was still light out when he walked his way over to your building in Naka-ku and the sun had set a long time ago. He’s never felt lonely in your apartment before; in fact, he usually seeks out your apartment because he feels lonely and whether you’re here or not, it eases the void that grows in his chest.

But now? Each passing second, he feels colder and colder. A part of him thinks that he should take this as a sign and just leave, but his body is uncooperative, keeping him rooted to your couch as he awaits your return.

He’s planned out what he’s going to say to you; he’s rehearsed it in his head so many times that he thinks he could say the dreadful words while sleeping. Now, he just-

Dazai’s head snaps to the side when he hears the fateful ding of the elevator arriving at your floor. His eyes widen and his tongue swells with anxiety as he stares at the doors, his breath slows and his fingers bite into his pants as he waits to see you step into the room but when the doors finally start to slide open, he freezes when he hears laughter.

“I can’t stand you,” an unfamiliar male voice snorts and Dazai’s mouth dries as his gaze darts around, trying to figure out what to do. The last thing he wants is for a repeat of the other night—if this is another one of your mafia friends, Dazai has to move, but he doesn’t know where to go.

His gaze settles on a nearby hall leading to the bathroom and an unused room—it’s closer to him than the kitchen, he’d never make it to the kitchen because he’d have to go right past the elevator. His legs feel so heavy that it’s an effort for him to push himself to his feet. He almost stumbles right over them as he rushes into the spare room, keeping the door cracked open so he can hear and see what’s going on.

He peeks carefully through the crack, watching as two men enter your apartment—you’re with them and Dazai’s chest tightens painfully at the sight of you. You’re smiling as you lean against one of the men—Dazai recognizes him as the man who had come with you to his apartment complex the first time, he’d been waiting by the car for you—and you’re dressed prettily in a short black dress. You’re so dazzling to him that Dazai nearly tumbles right out of the room he’s hiding in, but luckily, he’s drawn out of his dazed state by another unfortunately familiar face: Nakahara Chuuya, the executive who had been at your apartment the other night.

Dazai quickly leans back into the room when the ginger’s eyes snap down the hall as if he could sense someone watching him. He lets out a puff of air as he looks around the empty room—he’d looked in here before when he first started coming to your apartment, but had been sorely disappointed by the fact that there was nothing in the room for him to snoop around in.

Now, he blinks because while the room is still mostly empty, there are some tools in here as if you’d had someone come in to take measurements to start building something in there. His gaze slides from the far wall to the one nearest to him, dragging his feet against the wood floors to slide his fingers against the lines drawn on the wall in pencil, realizing that it’s about the same size as the piano in the other room.

His throat tightens as he remembers your offer from the other day, wondering if you’d gone ahead and started having it done even after the argument with Chuuya and Dazai not showing up for two days.

God, he doesn’t understand you—he doesn’t understand you at all. He starts to doubt every conclusion he’s come to the past two days because why would you go to these lengths for someone you don’t care about? For someone who’s forcing you into indulging him through blackmail? It doesn’t make sense, Dazai has never had so much trouble reading someone before you.

He leans against the wall, lashes lowering as he looks down at the floor. He doesn’t know what to think and now his well-rehearsed speech starts crumbling in his head. Distantly, he can hear the conversation between you and the other two mafiosos—you’re talking about something happening in Tokyo and Dazai wonders if it has anything to do with that argument from the other night.

But regardless of the topic of discussion, what matters more is that you sound happy. Your voice is light and airy, and you seem entirely unbothered by the fact that you hadn’t seen Dazai in days. Dazai doesn’t think you’ve ever sounded so happy with him before and why would you when he’s blackmailing you? Your laughter rings bright and pretty like a chime and Dazai feels sick to his stomach at the thought of you laughing like that for someone else; he imagines the way your laughter will fizzle when you see him, all of the liveliness in your face dying at his unanticipated appearance.

It feels like an eternity and all too soon at the same time when Dazai finally hears the two leave. He takes one deep breath, preparing to force himself out from where he’s hiding but then freezes at the sound of you raising your voice.

“Dazai, you can come out now.”

He blanches, staring at the partially closed door in front of him, half-debating on not even coming out because how did you know he was here? He thought he’d been careful, there’s-

“I know you’re somewhere in here, the cushion was warm where you were sitting.”

Dazai has half a mind to throw himself out of the window.

He takes in a deep breath as he pushes the door open, stepping out into the hallway that’s suddenly too cold and all too short. He swears it was twice as long when he was stumbling from the couch to hide in the spare room. His feet scuffle against the ground as he walks forward, not coming any closer than where the hallway meets your living room.

You’re laying on the couch he’d been sitting on, head resting back against the pillows and a curious expression on your face as you watch him. He can’t read it—if he didn’t know any better, he’d almost say it was fond, but he refuses to let that hope bubble up into his chest only for it to be crushed again. He thinks he should say something, tossing around a few options in his head, but he doesn’t get the chance to.

You hold out your hand to him. “Come here,” you say.

Dazai hesitates, eyes lingering on your extended hand before flitting back up to your face. He shouldn’t—he knows he shouldn’t—but he finds his feet moving forward before he can stop himself. He stands in front of you awkwardly for a moment, not sure what you want from him, but then his eyes shoot open when you reach out and grab his wrist, tugging him forward onto the couch with you.

He pretends he doesn’t yelp when he lands on top of you, face flaming up when he shifts himself into a sitting position so that he’s straddling your waist, trying not to drop all of his weight onto you. He also pretends that he’s not entirely thrown off by the way your hands rest on his thighs, absently running them up and down the sides of them.

“Where have you been the past few days?” you ask him quietly.

Dazai’s blood pressure spikes at the curious look you give him, as if he hadn’t been texting you for days with no response. He can smell the alcohol on you now that he’s closer and he wonders how much you drank—he thinks that’s probably why you looked so fond before and that’s probably why you’re suddenly being so touchy with him, it has nothing to do with him. That empty feeling in his chest starts to return.

He should have just left, should have just destroyed the flash drive and disappeared.

“I texted you,” he replies tightly, feeling wildly uncomfortable as he’s unable to get a hold on the way he’s spiraling internally. “I can see you’ve been busy though.”

You tilt your head to the side as if you’re unsure of what he means and Dazai almost wants to get up and leave but the feeling of your hands on him, his lower body pressed to yours, it leaves him dizzy and slow. His breath catches as your hands slip beneath his sweatshirt, smoothing out against his bandaged sides, thumb drawing slow circles over the covered skin as if trying to calm him down.

Dazai thinks he might hate you.

He thinks he might hate himself more because it works. His heartbeat slows and relaxes into you a bit more. He wants to take you by the shoulders and shake you, wants to demand answers, wants to know if you actually care about him or if this is all just some big show for the flash drive.

“I haven’t looked at my phone,” you finally say. “I’ve been the one dealing with the issues in Tokyo. It’s just been meeting after meeting the past few days. I thought you’d be here when I got back but you weren’t.”

Were you waiting for him? He wants to ask. Expecting him? Or are you just saying that because you can tell he’s unhappy and don’t want to deal with his attitude? Dazai just doesn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate with your hands on his body.

“Can we talk?” Dazai asks quietly after a few moments.

“What about?”

About the flash drive. About you. About him. Dazai doesn’t know—about everything. So, instead he just says: “About this.”

Instantly, you turn your head away from him and Dazai’s frustration rises at your attempt at blatantly ignoring him. He reaches out to grab your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him and Dazai’s breath catches when your lidded stare lands on him.

“I’m drunk,” you tell him flatly. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Bullshit,” Dazai immediately snaps, the pads of his fingers digging a bit too hard into your cheeks but you’re unfazed by it, staring up at him with an unreadable expression. “I think-”

Dazai doesn’t even have the chance to finish his sentence because you’re pushing yourself up from your laying position, one hand slipping out from his sweatshirt to cup the back of his head, the other still firm on his hip as you drag him down against you. Dazai’s breath catches when you press your lips against his, lashes fluttering shut. The hand on his hip slides around to his back, holding his body flush to yours—he lets out a low moan into your mouth when you nip at his bottom lip.

No, he thinks hazily, trying to push himself off of you but instead, his hands cup your cheeks and he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss. Your tongues dance in a way that leaves him dazed, it feels almost intimately familiar to him, somehow so in tune with one another that it’s like you’ve kissed hundreds of times before.

He shouldn’t be doing this, he knows this. You said it yourself that you’re drunk, he knows you only kissed him to get him to stop talking but…Dazai sighs into your mouth when he feels the tips of your finger card through his hair, feeling you shift beneath him to let his hips slot between your legs.

But isn’t this what he’s wanted this whole time?

Aren’t you finally giving him what you’ve denied him for weeks?

Your lips are intoxicating against his, and not because of the gin staining your tongue, he can hardly focus on anything with the way your tongue traces the back of his teeth, dragging against the roof of his mouth. He groans when you shift beneath him, one leg hooking around his waist. He separates his lips from yours to gasp for breath.

Shit, he thinks, lips parting when you kiss his jaw, trailing your lips to his ear to suck gently on the skin there before kissing slowly down his neck. He swears his entire body is on fire, breaths quick and shuddered; his mind feels so muddled and hazy that he has to actively tell himself to put a stop to this and even that is almost not enough.

It takes all of his willpower to push himself off of you, still breathing heavy, lips wet and swollen, his whole body tingling everywhere your lips and hands had touched. You stare up at him and Dazai’s body aches with need when he sees you’re nearly as breathless as he is, your own lips wet from his, eyes a bit glazed over. Heat burns in his lower abdomen but he can’t, not when he knows you’re drunk and not when he knows you’re only doing this to get him to stop talking.

Before Dazai can say anything, you look away from him again and he knows that it’s over.

“I’m tired,” you say. “Help me get to bed. We can talk in the morning.”

Dazai’s lashes lower as he nods, leaning down to help you to your feet. Even with your heels kicked off, you wobble on your feet, so he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady. The silence is almost foreboding as Dazai guides you up the stairs to your bedroom; you don’t make any move to break it, so Dazai does.

“We’re not going to talk about it in the morning, are we?” he asks quietly, looking down at you. You don’t look up at him and Dazai just wants you to at least look at him so when he gets you to the door of your bedroom, he stops and looks at you. You still don’t look at him. “Can you at least look at me?”

Dazai thinks he might be sick from the way you have to seemingly force yourself to look at him. Even drunk, he can see the displeasure plain on your face and it makes him want to curl in on himself again.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Dazai,” you finally say, your voice is tight. “I want to go to bed.”

“I want to talk about it,” Dazai stresses. “I-”

Frustration flies across your face, emotions loosened in your intoxicated state. You turn away from him and slam open your bedroom door and Dazai winces, taking half a step back.

“It’s always what you want, Dazai,” you hiss.

Dazai’s heart sinks, shaking his head because he doesn’t want to hear where you’re going with this. “Stop.”

“For weeks, I have been catering to what you want and now I don’t want one thing and you throw a fucking tantrum over it. I don’t want to talk about this—I don’t want to talk about it now, I don’t want to talk about it in the morning, I don’t want to talk about it. Can you just leave it be?”

Dazai takes another step back, staring at you silently. His ears ring as your words echo through them and though he can watch your face shift from frustration to guilt, it doesn’t process in his head—not really, not when all he can hear are your words on repeat over and over again.

You reach out for him, fingers curling around his wrist but Dazai pulls his hand back, taking a step away from you, closer to the stairs. All of his fight or flight instincts are triggered, his body itches to run, to flee downstairs and get out of your apartment, but his legs are uncooperative, feet rooted to the ground as he stares at you blankly.

“I didn’t mean that,” you say after a few moments. “I didn’t-I just-”

“It’s okay,” Dazai replies, voice a bit distant even to his own ears. “I’ll drop it.”

“Dazai-”

“Let me help you get into bed,” Dazai interrupts, forcing a smile onto his face as he pushes himself forward. His movements feel weird and clunky, unnatural almost, but he successfully leads you into your room, pulling back the sheets to help you into bed. “C’mon.”

He helps you slip into the bed and pulls the sheets over you, there’s still that hazy look in your eyes as you look up at him and Dazai tries his best to make sure that the smile on his face doesn’t look strained. He’s pretty sure you can see through it even while drunk. You reach out to grab his wrist again and this time, Dazai doesn’t pull away.

“Stay here tonight,” you say quietly. “Lay down with me.”

“I have class in the morning.” Dazai shakes his head, as much as he might ache to stay in your presence, he thinks if he stays in it a moment longer, he might actually break down—he can’t get your words to stop echoing. Only a steadily crumbling dam is holding back the torrent of emotions ripping apart his chest. “I can’t.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“I have to get all of my books, and finish my homework,” he tells you. “I can’t.”

“We’ll leave early,” you press, leaning up on your elbows. “C-”

“I can’t,” Dazai stresses, taking a step back and shaking his head. “I can’t. I have to go.”

You look conflicted, but to his relief and distress, you finally let go of his wrist. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow. After your classes. You finish at three, right? There’s a restaurant in Minami-ku I’ve been meaning to take you to.”

Dazai’s throat spasms as he swallows, shaking his head again. “I’m busy after class tomorrow. I have meetings for group projects.”

“When are they over? I’ll pick you up after.”

He feels a bit sick to his stomach as he looks up at your ceiling, in turmoil and unsure as to what to do. He knows you’re not doing this because you feel bad—not really—he knows it has to do with the flashdrive. He knows it. He thought it would be easier having someone to talk to, someone to hang out with, even if it was only because of blackmail because at least he would have someone, but he was wrong because this is a type of torture that Dazai just can’t endure any longer.

“I’m not going to want to do anything after, I’ll be drained.”

“Then we don’t have to do anything.” God, you won’t stop trying. You won’t stop trying and Dazai knows that if it wasn’t for that stupid flash drive, you’d have laughed in his face and told him to get out. He thinks he might actually throw up. “I’ll pick up the food before going to get you. We’ll stay in. Watch a movie.”

“No,” Dazai says, raising his voice now. “No. I’m just going to go back to my place. I have to go.”

Though his legs feel like lead and his body still yearns to be near yours, he forces himself to leave your room. Doesn’t look back when you call his name. Doesn’t hesitate at the top of the stairs when you tell him to wait. He nearly stumbles as he makes his way down the stairs and when he gets to the bottom instead of rushing toward the elevator, he sits on the arm of your couch, resting his head in his hands as he tries to gather his thoughts.

You’re so frustrating. So impossible to read that it’s beginning to take a toll on Dazai. He doesn’t understand why you’re so adamant on not having a conversation about all of this. He thought you would’ve wanted to have a conversation about it for the chance of getting the flash drive away from him.

You’ve done everything in your power to avoid any physical contact with him until now; only finally giving it to him when there’s an issue you really don’t want to talk about to try to distract him. Hell, you’d prefer to even talk to him about mafia business—you vented all about the issues with the Shimazaki-kai to him, and Dazai would think that’s the last thing you’d want to talk to him about.

It doesn’t make any sense.

He’s drawn from his thoughts at the sound of something buzzing against the ground a few feet away, frowning as he looks around and spots your phone on the ground, probably lost in your drunken attempts to get to the couch. He hesitates before pushing himself off the arm of the couch, taking a few steps toward it before kneeling down to pick it up.

He chews at the inside of his cheek as he stares down at the home screen of your phone, staring at Nakahara Chuuya’s name in the text notification. He knows that he shouldn’t go snooping. He knows it.

He does it anyway.

He spares one last glance up the stairs before unlocking your phone with the code he’s seen you put in hundreds of times by now, clicks on your message app and lets out a puff of air when he realizes that no, you hadn’t been lying. You have at least twenty unread message threads—Dazai’s is pinned at the top with Chuuya’s and someone called Mori, who you’ve never mentioned to him. There’s only one message thread you’ve evidently been reading the past few days considering there’s no dot next to it: Tolstoy, the last message being from a few hours ago.

He shouldn’t look. He knows he shouldn’t look.

He clicks on it anyway.

He bites down hard on his bottom lip as he scrolls to the top of the conversation—only a few message exchanges between the two of you, but they’re decently long.

Tolstoy: Do you still want Ilya? I can have him there by the end of next week, I just need him to finish up some business in Moscow first. You: Haven’t decided. You haven’t even given me the rundown on the side effects of his ability. I’m not going to use it if it’s going to fuck up his head—stop playing salesman and tell me what’s actually up with him. No ability comes without consequences. You know that. I know that. So stop fucking around.

Dazai suddenly has a sick feeling in his stomach, vision tunneling on the ‘him’ you’re speaking of in the messages. A foreboding air settles over him, dark and oppressive, he has to physically force himself to keep reading.

Tolstoy: We don’t know of any side effects. Haven’t used it enough to figure it out. You: So, you want me to use him as a lab rat? Be real, Tolstoy. Thought you had more respect for me than that. Tolstoy: I’m trying to help you. You want that kid’s memory wiped, I can have it done for you, it’s just a matter of how badly you want it done.

Dazai doesn’t read anymore than that. He drops your phone onto the couch, takes a step back, a step away. His mind spins, ears ringing as he stares down at—he doesn’t even know what he’s staring at. His vision is swimming and blurring—with tears, maybe? Or just from exhaustion? From panic? He can’t tell but he knows he’s not breathing properly and he knows he needs to leave, everything suddenly feels too suffocating, too enclosed.

He stumbles over to the elevator, slapping the button and leaning against the wall as he waits for it to come up to your floor. It takes long—too long, each second that passes feels like an eternity and he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

There’s only one “him” that your texts could be referring to. And it makes sense—it makes sense, doesn’t it? It makes sense why you’re so willing to divulge confidential information if you don’t intend for him to keep the knowledge of it. Makes sense why you’ve been notably careless with leaving files around your apartment. Makes sense why you told him about your ability. He’d thought you were finally letting him in, letting him know you, but-but of course, you weren’t.

Of course, you weren’t.

You were just…you were just trying to keep him placated, feed him bits of information to keep him happy because you knew you weren’t going to let him keep the knowledge of it. That you were gonna wipe his memory of it, of you, and send him back into that cold, dark void that’s been following him around his entire life and-

The bing of the elevator startles him, he flinches and still, he can’t breathe. His skin feels numb and prickly, his bandages are scratching uncomfortably at the scars hidden beneath them and he can hardly see straight.

Dazai needs to go.

He needs to go.

You wake up with a dry mouth, a pounding headache and an oddly foreboding feeling hanging about you. You push yourself into a sitting position, grimacing at the sun blinding you through the window—you don’t remember much of the night. You vaguely recall leaving the club last night with Albatross and Chuuya, the two of them incessantly bitching about dealing with you while you were drunk but in your defense, you think you deserved it after three days straight of meetings with the Shimazaki-kai on behalf of the Sun and Steel.

Everything after leaving the club is a blur. You grimace as you push yourself out of bed, glancing around to see if you’d dropped your phone anywhere near the bed only to come up empty-handed. You don’t even bother to go to the bathroom and brush your teeth, anxious to find your phone and figure out what happened once you left the club.

You pray to god that it’s downstairs and you hadn’t left it at the club, making your way out of the bedroom with a sigh. You doubt Chuuya or Albatross would’ve been dumb enough to leave it there, but you’re pretty sure they were both drunk too and neither of them are functioning drunks.

You’re not even halfway through the door frame when pain shoots through your head, sharp and uncomfortable and then-

“It’s always what you want, Dazai.”

Suddenly, that foreboding feeling you awoke with makes sense. You stare ahead blankly as you remember who exactly was waiting for you at your apartment after you got back from the club. You remember the argument, you remember the crushed expression that crossed his face when you snapped at him, you remember pleading with him to stay or to at least let you take him out today and you remember him refusing, his voice pitched and cracking, wobbly, on the verge of collapse because-

Because of you.

Fuck.

It’s with increasingly more urgency now that you rush yourself down the stairs, a small lingering hope remaining that maybe Dazai had stayed in one of the guest rooms or on the couch, that you could do something to fix this before it escalates even more.

You don’t even know why you said that—it’s not like you mind giving Dazai what he wants, in fact, you enjoy it. You enjoy it a lot. You like seeing his face light up when you do nice things for him, you like when he tries to hide the way he gets all flustered, you like that he’s allowed himself to have hope with you—something he’s clearly denied himself for too long—and you what?

You ruined it because you got scared?

You ruined it because you didn’t want to talk about… whatever you have going on with him?

You ruined it because you were terrified he was going to force you to come to terms with the fact that you’re using his stupid flash drive as an excuse to indulge yourself in him. That it would take minimal effort to have it destroyed but you’re putting it off because you want to be able to rationalize what you’re doing.

You feel sick to your stomach when you realize that your apartment is empty, eyes darting around to try to find your phone. You need to call him—he told you that he wanted to be alone today, or maybe he didn’t say exactly that but he implied it, but you need to at least talk to him now that you’re sober and can think straight.

A distant part of you, a cold and logical part of you, tells you to just use this as the excuse to cut him off—you don’t need to get Ilya to fuck with his mind if he just hates you, you don’t want Ilya to fuck with Dazai’s mind. The thought of it makes your chest feel tight with guilt, so maybe you should take this opportunity for what it is, no matter how shitty it might make you feel, but-

But you won’t.

Finally spotting your phone on the couch, you snatch it up and unlock it, grimacing at the low battery percentage and then grimacing even more when there’s not a single message from Dazai lighting up your home screen. There’s seven from Chuuya, three from Albatross, and two from Mori, but you’re more concerned by the missed call from an unknown number and the unread voice message.

The foreboding feeling that has been looming only grows more intense when you click on the message for it to play out loud.

“This is Doctor Okamoto of Keiyu Hospital calling on behalf of a recently admitted patient… listed you as his emergency contact when he was brought in last night… unable to disclose any information regarding his injuries over the phone… suggest that you get here soon…”

At once, your vision tunnels and everything around you becomes white noise, your gaze is pinned on the ground, a smudge on the tiled floors as you try to keep yourself grounded because what? Dazai is in the-he’s in the hospital?

Because of you?

You hadn’t been subtle approaching him that day in the library, it’s been a lingering thought since then, wondering if unsavory eyes had caught sight of you talking to him. The bar and the cafe were different, he had approached you—if any of your enemies had happened to see it, they wouldn’t think twice about it. But you approaching him had been dangerous.

It had been a mistake.

Had it been a mistake to cost him his life?

And it’s not just that—you’ve taken him out to dinners. Picked him up at his apartment building. Places that you or your trusted affiliates own but there’s always the chance… and if he left the Port Mafia building last night in a rush, upset and not thinking straight…

Oh, you might throw up.

You’re not dressed properly. You’re still wearing your dress from last night and you fumble to put on the heels you must’ve kicked off in your drunken state. You don’t even care to get dressed, more intent on getting to the hospital and figuring out if—nausea builds in the back of your throat—if Dazai is alive, if he’s okay. You need to re-listen to the voicemail because your hearing had been unfocused and you’d only been able to catch bits and pieces of the doctor’s message.

And-

And you don’t even get into the elevator because your phone is ringing again as soon as you click the button. You don’t even look at the number before picking up, fearing that it’s the hospital again—it’s not, it’s Chuuya, and you immediately regret your decision because you aren’t even able to bark out a ‘what’ before he’s speaking.

“Where the hell have you been?” Chuuya snaps on the other side of the line. “We’ve been trying to get ahold of you for hours, we-”

“I’m busy,” you hiss right back, interrupting him. “I can’t talk-”

“You can talk,” Chuuya says harshly. “Get to headquarters. The Guild is in Yokohama now. We don’t have time to fuck around anymore.”

You don’t respond to Chuuya, heart sinking to your feet at his words, distress clawing at your chest so painfully that you think it might be easier if you just carve out your heart and toss it out the window. You hang up the phone without another word just as the elevator makes it to your floor, but instead of going inside, you make your way back up to your room, numbly changing into one of your suits so you could at least look somewhat presentable.

You hardly even recognize yourself in the mirror as you wipe off your smudged makeup from your night out. Your eyes are vacant and your expression so empty that you think you could almost be looking at a statue.

War with the Guild. Dazai in the hospital.

Everything is catching up to you at the same time and your mind is fraying at its seams, collapsing in on itself as the weight of everything bears down on you. You do your best to compartmentalize, focus on one thing at a time but you can’t even concentrate on one issue.

You try to figure out what to do about the upcoming conflict, try to determine what exactly Fitzgerald might be planning so you can figure out what the Port Mafia will retaliate with, and your mind drifts to Dazai, you wonder if he’s okay, if he’s in critical condition, if it was one of your enemies that got to him or if it was something else.

You think about Dazai, all of the fear and guilt and anxiety tearing you apart, and your mind shoots straight to the Guild. Because if Fitzgerald knows about Dazai—if he knows about Dazai—then it’s over. It’s all over. If the Guild gets their hands on him, they’ll kill him when you don’t give them what they want because you can’t give them what they want. They want Yokohama and you can’t give them that.

You can’t, not even for Dazai.

You don’t even register that you’re standing in front of the elevator again until it bings, startling you right out of your thoughts. You can’t leave the building while you’re spiraling like this—you need to get a grip on yourself, you don’t even know where you’re going yet. You need to figure out if you’re going to go meet with Mori and the other executives or if you’re going to go find Dazai.

As you step into the elevator, it takes all but five seconds for you to make a decision.

Dazai wakes up to the familiar scent of antiseptic and a citrus-scented floor cleaning solution, the air is too stale and the air-conditioning is cranked up too high. He forces his eyes open, lids heavy and uncooperative, but he immediately lets them fall shut again briefly when he’s met with too white walls and the steady beeping of the heart monitor next to him.

His throat feels swollen as he stares up at the ceiling—the last time he was here in the hospital he was seventeen and had nearly bled out in the bathtub in Odasaku’s house. The only reason he hadn’t was because Ango happened to stop by the house to pick up papers that Odasaku had left for him, finding Dazai unconscious and face half-submerged in the water. He woke up here to find both of them hovering over him, Ango concerned and Odasaku visibly upset for the first time since Dazai met him.

He wakes up alone now because Odasaku is dead and he hasn’t spoken to Ango in four years—doesn’t even know where the man is anymore, doesn’t even know if he’s alive, doesn’t want to know either.

“Dazai-sama.” He hears a nurse say from the door to his room. “You’re awake, how are you…”

The nurse’s voice becomes white noise with the beeping of the heart monitor and the vents blowing above. Dazai retreats back into his own mind—a dangerous place, but right now it’s safer than the white walls that surround him, knowing he’s going to be badgered with questions that he doesn’t want to have to answer.

How are you feeling, Dazai-sama?

What happened, Dazai-sama?

We need to ask you a few questions, Dazai-sama.

Dazai feels defeated.

His head falls to the side as he stares out the nearby window, watching as a bird swoops down in view before taking off into the sky.

He doesn’t even remember what happened. He remembers leaving your apartment, he remembers… he remembers seeing your texts, your plans to wipe his memory. And… that’s about it? He vaguely remembers the familiar feeling of his lungs burning, remembers being tossed around by the rough currents of Tsurumi River. He doesn’t remember how he got there but it’s not exactly hard for him to piece together—even now, Dazai thinks he would rather be dead than have his memories forcibly erased.

“… to know what exactly hap…”

A dark and familiar cloud settles over him. His eyes feel heavy and his chest hurts. Dazai—he doesn’t even know what to think anymore. He’s so tired that his bones ache and his muscles feel so weak that he just sinks into the stiff mattress of the hospital bed.

He doesn’t know what he expected—he thinks that to some extent he expected you to leave him. Everyone has left him. His mother, his aunt, all of the brief friends he’d made over the years before they see him for what he is, Odasaku and Ango—everyone has left him, so he knew that you would too but… in this manner? Using an ability to wipe his memory of you?

Dazai has considered it before. He’s wondered if maybe his life would be easier if he could just… forget. If he could live without the memory of everyone who has left him hanging over him. Some days, on really bad days, he thinks it might be easier. To try to make himself feel better, he thinks that maybe he isn’t the issue, maybe it’s all just a self-fulfilling prophecy, that it’s his past experiences cursing him to make the same mistakes over and over again; that without them, he might stand a chance.

But then when he thinks about it—when he really thinks about it—he knows in his heart that it’s not true, and he knows that without the memory of them all, Dazai will only feel more empty. And to think that you were trying to take his memories of you from him… without even asking, without giving him a choice in the matter… it almost makes Dazai-

“Dazai.”

His gaze snaps to the side when he hears your familiar voice come from the door leading into his room. Instantly, he’s shaking his head and looking away again, he can’t even bear to look at you but you’re walking over to him, you’re coming to his bedside, you’re sitting next to him on the hospital bed and you’re reaching out to cup his cheek, forcibly turning his face to make him look at you. You look worried, something sharp and concerned in your eyes that makes his throat swell and he wants to spit at you and call you a liar but he can only sink into your touch.

“Why are you here?” he asks. His voice is hoarse, almost painful for him to use.

“What happened?” you ask him quietly instead of answering his question—you never answer his questions, you always deflect, always maneuver around them. The ones you do answer, it’s only because you plan to- “Dazai, what happened? Are you okay?”

Dazai doesn’t know how you can look at him like this all the while planning the most diabolical betrayal that he could ever imagine. You’re either an actress deserving of international recognition or… or Dazai doesn’t even know.

“I’m fine,” he says, voice clipped. “Why are you here?”

“The hospital called me-”

“But why are you here?” Dazai cuts you off, grateful that his voice is firmer than the turmoil wreaking havoc through him. He must’ve given them your number while he was half-delirious when he was brought in—he figured that out already—but that doesn’t explain why you actually came. “Why did you come?”

“Because you’re hurt,” you say as if Dazai should believe you.

And he wants to believe you. Wants to believe that you’d come running just at the mere idea of him being hurt, wants to believe that you would care enough to come for him. He wants to believe you so bad, but he knows what he saw.

“Don’t lie to me,” Dazai tells you, finally gathering the willpower to pull his face away from where it’s resting in the palm of your hand. You don’t even let him shift away, hand slipping behind him to cradle the back of his head, fingers entwined with his hair. “Stop.”

“I’m not lying to you,” you say like a liar. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

You sigh heavily and Dazai hates the way you’re absently drawing circles against the nape of his neck with your thumb, hates how it makes him feel at ease and especially hates the way his lashes instinctually flutter shut.

“I didn’t mean what I said last night, Dazai,” you say so quietly that Dazai almost believes you. Almost. “I was drunk, I didn’t… I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t care about that,” Dazai says, proud of the way his voice stays sharp and cold. “I saw the messages between you and Tolstoy. I know what you’re planning. I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t even want to look at you, just leave me alone.”

You draw back at his words, concerned expression melting into a blank slate as you pull your hand away to sit back straight. Dazai misses your touch instantly, longs for the warmth to return but he forces himself to ignore it all, keeping his gaze pinned on you, watching the way your mind races behind your eyes. He wonders if you’re trying to figure out if you can salvage this, wonders if you’re going to lie.

Instead, a heavy look settles over your face as you frown, glancing back at the way you came and for a moment, Dazai thinks you’re just going to leave. You rise to your feet and words lodge in the back of his throat, preparing to spit insults at you: he wants to call you a coward, a liar, wants to tell you that you’re cruel and vile and he can hardly even stand to look at you.

But then you look back at him and hold out your hand to him. “Come on,” you tell him. “Let’s sneak you out of here… I’ll explain everything when we get out of the hospital.”

Dazai wants to be spiteful, wants to turn his head away and ignore you, wants to slap your hand and tell you that there’s no explaining what he saw.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he places his hand in yours and lets that treacherous, treacherous spec of hope bloom in his chest again.

Dazai hasn’t spoken a word since leaving the hospital. You’ve tried to make small talk with him, but every time, he just turns his head away to look out the window. You gave up twenty minutes ago and Dazai is already regretting not indulging conversation with you because the silence is agonizing. He knows he should break it, but he doesn't know how to now.

He glances at you from the corner of your eye. You’re leaning back against your seat, one hand on the steering wheel—he can’t see your eyes because they’re masked by sunglasses, but he can see the way your free hand rests on the gear stick, knuckles tense.

“What is this place?” Dazai clears his throat as he leans forward in his seat, peering out the windshield of your car to try to figure out where you’re taking him. He forces his tone to lighten, the smile on his lips strained. “Are you kidnapping me? Oh! Or are you taking me to some remote cabin to kill me? Bella, you truly know the way to a man’s heart.”

You let out a heavy sigh, one that makes Dazai toss a sweet smile in your direction.

Some type of beach house, he recognizes as you pull up a windy road to the top of a cliff looking over the water. He can see to his left a path leading down to the water and to his right a nice view of a distant pier. It’s not a large house, but it’s nice—well-kept and refurbished with a view over Sagami Bay. It’s not too far out from Yokohama, probably only a little over an hour, but considering Dazai’s never left the city in his entire life, this might be the furthest he’s ever been. He can almost feel a bit of excitement bubbling in his chest.

“I wanted to take you here, away from the city for a bit,” you finally say, fingers thrumming against the wheel of the car as you slowly guide the car up the gravel path. “So we can talk in peace.”

Your bland words whittle away his excitement and Dazai’s smile falters. He tries to distract himself with counting the strands hanging off the sleeve of his sweater but keeps losing count.

“Something you couldn’t have talked to me about in Yokohama?” Dazai asks airly as you pull to a stop in front of the beach house.

He doesn’t turn to look at you, doesn’t move until you finally get out of the car, reaching into the back seat to grab two duffle bags, nodding for him to follow you.

Wow, he thinks dryly, you came prepared.

Dazai feels distinctly like he’s walking to his execution as he follows you to the steps leading up to the house, but instead of walking up them, you toss the bags on the porch and then continue up the path.

You’re going to push him off a cliff, Dazai thinks, feet dragging against the gravel as he follows you. This is it, all of the years that he’s longed for death and it’s finally about to find him at your hands.

“I might not die from the fall,” Dazai says, words drawn long as he pouts. “You wouldn’t really leave me to suffer in freezing water, would you?”

“No,” you say, glancing back at him. He lets out a quiet breath of relief that’s quickly snuffed out when you add, “I’m not that sloppy with my kills. I’d kill you before dumping your body over the side of the cliff.”

Dazai blanches, but your lips curl up into an amused smile so he settles down, sighing as he purposely knocks his shoulder with yours.

“My bella is so cruel,” he sighs dramatically. “She hates me.”

You sigh as you reach the edge of the cliff, not turning to look at him. The wind whips around the two of you—it’s a cool, early spring night, the temperature just enough to be uncomfortable but you don’t seem bothered by it as you stare out across the water as the sun starts to set.

You’re beautiful, Dazai thinks, breath catching at the sight of you beneath the setting sun. The golden rays cast an ethereal glow over you, the wind ruffles your clothes and hair, and your expression is solemn in a way that’s become terribly familiar the past few weeks.

“I’m not going to do anything with the video,” Dazai finally says, voice quiet��finally taking the chance to say what he wanted to say last night. “You don’t have to keep… pandering to me because you’re trying to protect yourself. I was never going to do anything with it, I just… wanted you to give me a chance.”

When you look over your shoulder, you give Dazai a small, genuine smile that makes all of the air whoosh from his lungs.

“Dazai, I’ve known you weren’t going to do anything with that video since day one,” you say, amused. “If I thought you were, I would’ve had someone confiscate it from your apartment.”

Dazai’s lips part, mind racing. “But then why-”

Your smile softens at the edges and you sigh as you lower yourself down to the ground, feet dangling off the edge of the cliff. Dazai joins you, thigh brushing yours and shoulders absently knocking together. Your hands rest in your lap and Dazai’s fingers twitch to reach for yours. He only hardly refrains himself.

“I don’t remember a life before this,” you say after a few moments, a distant look in your eyes as you stare ahead. “When I was seven… eight, maybe, I was pulled out of a warzone by the current leader of the Mafia. I don’t even remember my parents—anything about them. Their names. Faces. What they sounded like, what their job was. Mori… he found me in my town sitting in the middle of a whole pile of bodies and I couldn’t even point out which pair of corpses were my parents. I don’t remember anything before him… It’s all just black. Blurred.”

Dazai stares at you, eyes a bit wide as he listens to you speak. His lips part to say something but he decides against it, instead he seals his lips back shut and presses his shoulder against yours. Mori—that was the other name pinned up with Dazai’s message thread and Nakahara Chuuya’s—he must be the Port Mafia boss. His gaze traces your face as you stare ahead, catching the melancholic expression on your face. He itches to reach for your hand.

“I could hardly remember anything about myself. My first name… that’s just about it. My new birthday became the day Mori found me, my new surname—when needed—was his, he… he became my reason to live when I had none. Gave me a purpose,” you tell him faintly. “I spent two years on a warfront trying to figure out what my ability was so I could be the finishing touches of the immortal regiment that he was trying to create. As far as I remember, all I’ve known is… this. Him.”

Dazai wants to say something but every word he tries to push out dies on his tongue. Instead, he finally does reach out to grab your hand, fingers curling around yours tightly. You look down briefly, an unreadable expression on your face before it softens and… and for a split second, Dazai can see you, he can see you: not a hardened executive of a mafia, but an eight-year-old girl, lost and confused and landing in the arms of the wrong man, and it makes him sick.

The traitorous part of him wonders if you’re only telling him this because you still plan on following through with the memory wipe, so Dazai does what he always does when someone threatens to take one of the few things he wants—he digs his claws in and doesn’t let go.

“The war ended before I could figure out how to use my ability and I followed… him to the underground. We ended up with the Port Mafia while the previous boss and his family were still leading. He was…” You trail off, frowning. “Dangerous. Yokohama was a terrible place under his leadership. He slaughtered civilians who spoke poorly about him and the Mafia, killed his own men for looking at him wrong… Mori became his doctor and for the good of the city, he decided to kill him.”

“I remember the old boss—what he did to the city,” Dazai says quietly—how could he not? His aunt was terrified of being in Yokohama because of him, was constantly talking about leaving the city… she finally did after dumping Dazai off in Suribachi and leaving him to fend for himself against the wolves. “It was bad.”

“It was,” you agree absently. “Mori—he wanted it to be as bloodless as possible. He tried every route, but the only way for it to be bloodless was if he had someone to corroborate that the previous boss died in his sleep and left the Port Mafia to him.”

Dazai almost scoffs.

“No one would believe that.”

“We’d hoped maybe one of his grandchildren would step up. Even if it was clearly a lie, people would have to listen because they were his blood,” you say with a wry smile. “They didn’t.”

“So, what happened then?” he presses when you don’t immediately continue. He frowns when he catches the sudden change in your demeanor, like you’re sick to your stomach, unable to push out the next words. He feels a bit dreadful, squeezing your hand gently.

“We had to wipe out the whole family,” you whisper, looking down at your lap, “and any loyalists. I was fourteen when I killed someone for the first time. She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s granddaughter—she was asleep, had a bear tucked in her arm and a nightlight on the right side of her bed. I slit her throat, then both of her older brothers. They were kids.”

Oh.

Dazai’s throat spasm as he swallows, the picture forming in his head cold and chilling, but instead he forces out:

“You were a kid too.”

“No, I wasn’t. Hadn’t been for a long time,” you say, voice flat, leaving no room for argument. “We hunted down the whole bloodline, immediate to extended family. Mori was insistent on it, said we couldn’t risk one of them ever returning and upending everything we’ve built. He’s still searching for some to this day just to make sure.”

That’s… foreboding to say the least. Dazai watches you carefully, the grim expression on your face and the frown on your lips. He pulls your hand into his lap, tracing your fingers gently to try to ease you and he watches from the corner of his eye as your expression softens again when you look at him. It makes his chest feel tight and fluttery.

“I was sixteen when I met Itou.” The cold expression on your face warms at the unfamiliar name. Dazai watches as the corner of your lips curve up into a fond smile, as if you’re reminiscing. “He was seventeen. We were partnered up for years. This was his beach house—or, well, I don’t know whose it was but Itou took it. He was awful, honestly. A terrible fucking person, had more blood on his hands than any other member of the Mafia, found way too much joy in tormenting people. He was awful, but he was the closest thing I had to family. He tried to show me a world beyond just… bloodshed and violence. Took me to amusement parks on days off, snuck me onto school trips with random groups of kids and told me to ‘blend in’ as training for infiltration missions, showed me how to live, not just… survive. He died on a mission a few weeks after I turned eighteen, made me promise him that I wouldn’t go back to how I used to be without him, that I’d at least try to be happy.”

Double oh.

Dazai almost does throw up now, mind drawing back to a face that has been haunting Dazai for four years now, Odasaku’s last words ring through his head painfully—a reminder of his own inadequacy, of his failure to fulfill his friend’s dying wish.

He remembers the way your face shifted when he told you about Odasaku at Kido’s Boutique and he wonders if he’d reminded you of Itou back then when he spoke of the man and his promise, just like how he was reminded now. His grip on your hand tightens unintentionally—as if you can sense his thoughts, you squeeze his fingers gently.

“I didn’t,” you say with a tight smile. “Threw myself into work, accepted that my fate was to live, breathe and die for the Port Mafia. I didn’t see the point of anything—well, not until I met you, at least.”

Dazai’s eyes flicker up to you, breath catching when you meet his gaze this time. And god, you look beautiful—so beautiful that Dazai thinks that if he dies now, he could die happy. He almost wishes that he could die now, fall off the side of the cliff with the image of you burned behind his eyelids. It would be a better death than he deserved.

“You made me happy. Make me happy,,” you tell him quietly and Dazai’s heart leaps into his throat. “So effortlessly that I can’t even understand how you do it, but it’s impossible for me to justify dragging you into this world just because I’m selfish.” Dazai parts his lips to disagree but you don’t even give him a chance to speak. “So when you came to me with your stupid blackmail, it was so… easy to just use it as an excuse for me to indulge in you.”

Dazai doesn’t get it. He still doesn’t get it. You’re sitting here talking to him, explaining everything, and Dazai still doesn’t understand. He makes you happy—he makes you happy and you make him happy, there doesn’t need to be any more complications than that. You don’t have to push him away, you don’t have to cut him off, you don’t have to use that memory wiping ability on him.

“I don’t understand,” Dazai says, voice hoarse. “You make me happy too, so why is…”

“Because Chuuya is right,” you say with a smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. “The risks… Dazai, you can’t ask me to put you in danger like this. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair to cut me off because you’re scared,” Dazai counters, voice a bit pitched. “It’s not fair that you want to wipe my memory without my consent. I don’t care about danger, I don’t-”

You look at him sharply, an intense expression on your face that makes Dazai hesitate.

“I never would have done it without talking to you first,” you say tightly. “Do you really think that little of me?”

Dazai looks away, not answering the question. “I never would have agreed to it,” he replies, voice equally tight as yours. “Never. It’d be a waste of your time.”

You sigh and Dazai feels you shift next to him but he pointedly keeps his gaze trained ahead, refusing to look at you. He feels your fingers brush his cheek before the pressure becomes a bit firmer as you turn his face so that he’s looking at you. You’re so close that his nose brushes yours, the pads of your fingers are warm against his skin; if he leans in just a bit, he’d be able to kiss you.

He wants to kiss you.

“You don’t know what’s at stake,” you say softly, breath fanning across his lips as you speak. He can almost taste the mixture of mint and nicotine on your lips—you smoke when you’re nervous, he’s noticed it over the past few weeks with you. The more nervous you are, the more cigarettes you run through; he wonders how many cigarettes you’ve gone through since you’ve gotten the call from the hospital. “The danger-”

“You want me,” Dazai whispers, squeezing your hand, leaning in a bit more. “No one has ever wanted me before. Not like this. Not for me. You want me.”

The last sentence—it doesn’t come out as a statement, it comes out as a plea. He wants you to say it. You didn’t the last time, but he needs to hear it now. Desperately. His nails dig into your hands, he doesn’t even dare to breathe as he waits for you to speak.

“I want you,” you agree, voice so quiet like you don’t even dare to speak the words out loud in fear of the consequences of them. “I want you. I want you so bad that it scares me, Dazai Osamu.”

And Dazai breathes. The breath he lets out is long and shaky, the relief that sweeps over him is almost debilitating. He searches your eyes to make sure you mean it and when he only finds honesty and a type of fear that he’s never seen in you before, Dazai knows.

“You think it doesn’t scare me?” Dazai asks you, voice cracking. “Everything I ever come to want is always lost. Ever since that first day we met, I-I knew that I wanted you more than anything I’ve ever wanted before and I’ve been terrified that one day you’ll leave me. Promise me that you won’t. Promise me.”

You stare at him and for a terrible moment, Dazai thinks that you’re about to shake your head and say you can’t, but then you swallow, nod and say, “I promise.”

Dazai kisses you. And then he kisses you again. And again. And again. Until his lungs burn and he can feel your lips curve up against his and even then, he kisses you still. Kisses you as the sun sets over the bay and the moon rises above the mountains. Kisses you until the wind becomes too bitter for the two of you to stay outside and still, he smiles as he peppers kisses across your face, walking back down the path to the beach house.

He ignores how your phone has been buzzing incessantly all night, praying for at least one day of peace before reality slaps the two of you in the face again.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #dazai osamu x you

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costkappen · 8 months ago

Text

Best boy《CLxReader》

Tags....☆smut,blow job, sub!Charles, Dom!reader, no use of y/n,fluff,charles is insecure,reassuring

Warnings....☆smut!mdni, a bit of sad!Charles but nothing too sad or angsty

Word count....☆1795

A bit of a warning, this is my first time writing so it not the best,also please correct me if you find any spelling mistakes as I didn't proof read this,anyways enjoy I hope I did good!

He looked so pretty high up on the podium, his smiling face half covered by the shining Australian sun making his pretty blue eyes shine like I've never seen before.

After the podium celebrations I went after him and pulled him in the tightest hug ever

"Congratulations Charles! P2 and double ferrari podium, I'm so proud of you" his face lit up at my praise, something I've picked up since I first met him, he gloats over the littlest praise aimed towards him, even if it wasn't said to him directly, he has a habit of kicking himself down way more that necessary when the smallest thing goes wrong, even if it wasn't his fault he always finds a way to beat himself up over it, so over the years I've made a mental note to sower him with praises as much as I can. "Thank you chéri, I'm also really happy with the team today, let's go to my drivers room I'll take a quick shower and then we'll go back to the hotel"

The drive to the hotel was fairly silent, I didn't say anything to him but I saw how his lips twitched and how his grip on the steering wheel was so tight the tips of his fingers turned white. Yes he was happy about his podium, but there was something he was not telling me so I made it my personal mission to find out what was bothering him so much on a day that was supposed to make him feel like he was on cloud 9.

Once we arrived to the hotel the first thing I did was change into something more comfortable and then I went looking for him, "Hey baby" I said as I sat down on his lap on the couch "How are you feeling? You must be so happy, we have to celebrate with Carlos and Rebecca tonight you boys did such a good job"

The praise made him smile, still he didn't look like his usual self "Yeah I'm really happy Chéri, I think the team needed this win, I can't wait to celebrate with you all" then he gives me a quick kiss on the lips and looks at me without saying anything else

" Alright then if you're so happy then why are you acting like that?" "Acting like what?" He says with a nervous giggle as to make me think I'm just over thinking it. "Like you're about to cry Charlie, don't lie to me I know you too well." He then brings his hand to gently stroke my cheek, as if I was the one that needed comforting right now, "I really can't hide anything from you Chéri?" He let's out a sigh,his whole body deflating "I'm happy for Carlos, I really am, it's just that I can't stop thinking how it should've been me on the first step, not because I don't think that Carlos deserves it but because I've got the whole ferrari team and the tifosi rooting for me, and everytime I get second place instead of winning I feel like I'm letting down everyone, especially you" well I surely wasn't expecting that, yes I knew he had some troubles in believing himself, but I didn't know just how little he thought of himself, "Charlie I can promise you're not letting anyone down,and especially not me! Do you not know how proud I am of you? The redbull is been a monster of a car and so far you've been the only one to get as close to it as second place, everyone at the motorhome can tell you that, everyone is so proud of you even when you don't win we know that you could do so much more if we had a better car and if redbull didn't have a rocketship instead of a car,no one is upset with you Charlie" his lips were quivering and his pretty blue eyes were shiny and looked like they were ready to burst with tears, but I couldn't let my pretty boy cry on a day like this, not when he was supposed to be celebrating and happy with his amazing results, "Alright Charlie how about I show you just how much i am proud of you?"

I take his hand making him stand up from the couch "Where are we going Chéri?" He asks confused as ever "to the bed baby, I'll show you what good boys like you get when they've been so good" and as I make him get on the bed I get a good look at his flushed face, cheeks red and a little shy smile,

"I'll start slow okay?" He nods eagerly his head and I chuckle at his shyness, I start by prepping kisses all over his handsome face and I stop at his lips to give him a more passionate kiss occasionally sliding my tongue on his bottom lip, stroking his arms with my hand I could feel goosebumps forming, as I made my way to his neck I made sure that my kissed lingered a bit longer as to leave pink patches all over his neck, light enough to show but not too harsh so they would be gone the next day, as much as I wanted to leave purple marks all over him I knew pr would kill him if he showed up in public covered in hickeys, so just this once I'll refrain myself.

I could feel him shiver under me as I got to unbuttoning his shirt and I kissed all over his chest "Chéri please..don't tease me like this" he pleaded looking at me with his puppy eyes "What do you want me to do Charlie? I'll do anything you want as long as you ask me nicely " I was being a bit mean to him but I knew that he loved it when I took charge and teased him, "Please just touch me..anywhere I just want to feel your touch" his words make me melt, and how could I say no to him when he was begging so prettily "What a good boy you are Charles, asking me so nicely, don't worry I'll make you feel so good" He shivers as my hand gets lower, working on his pants to get them off, I slide them down along with his underwear as he raises his hips to help me get his pant off of him, I look back up staring at his pretty leaking dick, he wasn't the biggest but he still had the prettiest dick I've ever seen, clean and neatly groomed, I started tracing the veins that run across his shaft, that pulled a whimper out of him so I started using my tongue savoring his flavor on my tastbuds as I moved to his tip, clear beads of precum already leaking out "your dick is so pretty cha, so sensitive for me.." I look up at him smiling and circling my tongue around his tip "p-pleas chérie..take me in your mouth no more teasing" his pleas and the way he looked at me while he was making me go crazy, he just looked so good, still maintaining eye contact I took him as deep down my throat as I could go, seeing his face contorted from the pleasure gave me more confidence so I relaxed my throat and stopped when my nose hit his lower stomach, he tasted heavenly and I could hear his whimpers and soft moans, I bobbed my head up and down using my hand to stoke him at his base where I could not reach with my mouth, and he looked completely gone, eyes rolling back, hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white and he let out the prettiest moans, but his breath was staring to hiccup and he started squirming against the sheet so I knew he was getting close "what is it cha? Getting close my sweet boy?" I cooed at him getting my mouth back on him as soon as I stopped talking "mhh- Chéri please don't stop i-" He gasped and as I looked at him I saw his eyes roll back, he was completely blissed out "what is it pretty boy, Can't talk anymore? Am I making you feel so good your brain can't form words?" His breath hitched and he let out a shaky moan, this time I decided to not make him beg me to let him cut, he had been so good and he deserved it, so I started focusing on his tip, circling it with my tongue and sucking it harshly while my hand stroked him up and down as the other held him at his base,I was so focused on getting him to his sweet and deserved release I almost didn't hear him warning me that he was about to cum, "look at me Charlie,I want to see your pretty face as you cum down my throat like a good boy,just like that cha let it go for me" my words pushed him off the edge and he gripped my hair slightly pushing my head down on him, I got the hint so I took him as deep as a could and he heal me there, his loud moans filled the room, at this point I knew that whoever was staying in the room next to us hear him but I couldn't care less, I just wanted him to feel good, as i looked at his fucked out expression I felt his sweet cum filling my mouth, his mouth hanged low as he let out one final loud moan and fell back on the pillows, I slowly pulled him out of my mouth, took his face in my hands and made him look at me as I swallowed his cum, and he smashed his mouth on mine, sliding his tongue inside my mouth passionately kissing me, a quiet thank you.

"Are you feeling better now Charlie?" I looked down at him as he was laying on my chest trying to gain his breath back "yes- yes thank you chéri I'm feeling much better chéri thank you" He smiled and kissed my neck and nuzzled his face as I covered us up with the covers "well then I'm confident that you learned your lesson and will start to believe in yourself more yes?" I say as I start stroking his hair

"Well I don't know chéri, if that's what happens when I doubt myself I might just start doing it more" He laughs and hides his face in the crook of my neck, I gently smack the back of his head but I also laugh at his comment "I love you charles, you know that right?" "I know chéri, but I love you more."

#charles lecrelc #formula 1 #cl16 #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #sub!charles leclerc #one shot #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 smut #x reader #cl16 x reader #cl16 x you #no y/n #f1 fanfic #f1

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damascus-crowned-king · 3 months ago

Text

Foolish love, but damn if it isn't true

Fool!Guy and Fool!Honey

It's really fucking bad yall

They were bored.

They were the only one awake at 6:30 AM, and they hated it. Years of waking up early out of fear that they would be late for some sort of event or that if they didn't wake up early enough, they wouldn't be as productive was biting them in the ass.

So they decided to bother their adorable, grumpy, currently asleep boyfriend.

"Guy."

"Baby."

"Darling."

"Sugar."

"Flour. Egg. Butter. Vanilla extract. Baking soda. "Salt. If you don't answer me, the pet names are just gonna get weirder, Guy."

"Nothing? Alright."

...

Radio silence.

"My oatmeal cream pie. My tomato soup."

"My honey-"

It only took a second for Guy to grab the back of their head and shove their face into a pillow and lay on top of them. Rendering them immobile.

"Oomph!"

"First of all. I call you honey, not the other way around. Second of all, It's too early and you should go back to bed. Third of all, why were almost all of those "pet names" food related?"

"I'm bored... and I can't go back to sleep, and also, I'm hungry, and who said that you trademarked the nickname 'honey'?!"

He replied dryly. "I did."

They squirmed for a minute before giving up under him. "Can you get off of me now?"

He questioned them slightly, still mildly crushing them under his weight. "Are you gonna chill out?"

"Maybe..."

"..."

"....Okay I'll calm down... lame-ass..."

"Did you say something?"

"Nothing, sweetheart~"

"That's what I thought." He got off top of them and laid on his side while Honey wrapped their arms around him so he could nuzzle his face in their chest.

They eventually started scratching his scalp, and they made a small smile at him leaning into their touch. "Your roots are kinda showing. Do you want me to touch 'em up for you?"

Guy scrunched his face in confusion and slight judgment at their behavior, still mumbling into their neck. "Honey. Did you just sniff my hair?"

Guy buried his face in the crook of their neck and wrapped his arms around them even tighter, mumbling a tired response. "Yeah... Tomorrow."

Honey slightly shivers at Guy's warm breath on their neck, smirking at his clinginess. "Okay." Letting out a soft confirmation before burying their face in his hair, taking a deep whiff of his natural scent mixed with his coconut and mango shampoo.

Honey smirked at Guy's convicting tone. "What? You smell good."

Guy scoffed at honey, finding their fascination for his smell odd. "You're such a weirdo..."

"What? You want me to say you smell bad? 'Cus I could."

"I mean, you could, but then you'd just look like a liar..."

"Do you want me to appreciate your smell or say you smell gross?"

"You could just... not smell me. That's an option." He says, throwing out the proposition, knowing full well it won't be taken into consideration.

Honey, fake-considers his suggestion, very obviously not actually thinking about not smelling him. "Mmmmm nah I'll pass."

Guy rolls his eyes and holds Honey tighter, wrapping his legs around them like a koala. Squeezing them tightly while they play with his hair.

This was the life to Guy. Silence and cuddles, Honey's fingers tangling into his hair and Guy secretly taking in their scent. (Hypocrite) Who wouldn't love this serene, still moment...

"Has anyone told you you're absolutely perfect?"

Guy was stunned to say the least. For Honey to say something so out of the blue and something so sappy had his heart skipping a beat.

"Um... no? What's up with you?" Guy was confused. Confused but not that surprised. His Honey was always one to speak their mind, but sometimes they said things that had him flustered. And he wasn't exactly the best at preparing for their unaware sweet words.

"Just sayin'. You're adorable, you're sweet, you smell amazing all the time, and you feed me. That seems like perfect boy behavior to me."

Whoooo boy. Yep. This is how he dies. Four years of being together, and he still turned into a bashful mess whenever Honey was all mushy with him... which was most of the time.

"God you are so..."

"Sooo...? What?"

Guy lets out a soft, resigned sigh and leans into them. "Charming."

Honey snorts at Guy somewhat dropping the tough-guy act and admitting he finds them charming, their ego rising at his simple word of affirmation.

"And that's all the sappy shit you're getting out of me today. No more."

"Ahhh I knew it... you're no fun..."

"Not my problem."

"But you know what is your problem?"

Guy groaned, clearly not excited for whatever was about to come out of his Honey's mouth. "What?"

Honey spoke up with a smirk in their voice. "Breakfast~"

"Ughhhh...."

"Soooo. What should we have for breakfast? We could have waffles, hashbrowns, Omelettes, grits? Ooh! We could have French toast and sausage?"

Guy rolled his eyes as they rambled about various breakfast foods, but deep down he knew he'd make a four course breakfast meal for his Honey. Because they deserved it. They deserved the world after dealing with his sass and sarcasm and monotone, lackluster personality, and his absence of... everything for years and even deciding to date him after putting up with all of it.

So he'll gladly make them breakfast.

And gladly give them the whole world if they asked.

Anything for his Honey.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted fooliverse #redacted fool!guy #redacted fool!honey #redacted honey #redacted guy

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

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Magda's Princesse

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: A look back at your birth from Magda's perspective

Magda is already at the airport when she gets the call. She recognises the caller ID instantly and a smile appears on her face as she answers it.

"I'll be there soon," She says," I'm just about to get on the plane."

"You need to call Emma," Is what Pernille answers.

Magda's just about to get her ticket checked. She stops. "What?"

"You need to call Emma," Pernille repeats," And tell her that you'll be sitting the next few games out. You're busy."

Magda, for some reason, is feeling especially stupid because she just can't quite grasp what's being told to her. "But I'm not?"

"You are!" Pernille snaps before she lets out a groan of pain," Because I will be damned if I push your baby out and you run back to England a few days later."

Magda slumps into her seat in shock. "But...You can't be having her now! She's early!"

"By two days." Pernille sounds like she's gritting her teeth. "I'll send you the hospital address. I don't care how you do it but if you miss this, Magda, I will not be happy."

The line is dropped.

Magda is a tight ball of worry the entire flight. She's drunk two glasses of wine to ease her worries before cutting herself off in case she accidentally drinks herself into a coma before getting to the hospital.

She's one of the first off the plane and through border control. It takes half an hour to get her luggage and then another to find a taxi that will get her to the hospital.

Fischer is waiting outside for her, guiding Magda inside without little fanfare.

"She came to visit us at training," Magda's national teammate tells her," And then she went into labour."

"And the baby?"

"Fine so far," Fischer replies," Nothing to report."

Magda bursts into the room and attaches herself to Pernille. "Am I late?"

Pernille gives her a look. "Does it look like you're late?"

No, it certainly doesn't and Magda breathes a sigh of relief. "I think I scared Nilla. I left all my luggage with her."

"She's got spare keys," Pernille replies through deep, calming breaths as she works through another contraction," She can take your stuff to my place."

"Is it bad?" Magda asks sympathetically, letting Pernille squeeze her hand," The pain?"

"I've been told it will get worse," Pernille says," The nurse said I'm only five centimetres dilated. We could be here for a few more hours. Have you called Emma yet?"

Magda shakes her head. No, she hasn't. She was a bit preoccupied with making sure that she didn't miss the birth.

"We have time," Pernille says," Call her now and tell her."

●～●～●～●～

It's early in the morning when you make your appearance.

In solidarity, Magda does not go to sleep even though Pernille tells her to multiple times. She doesn't because if Pernille is suffering then it doesn't stand to reason that Magda gets to relax.

She's glad about it too because you come very early in the morning and if she was sleeping, Magda is ninety percent sure that Pernille wouldn't have been able to wake her up.

But you arrive with a lot of fanfare and even more screaming.

The doctor looks at you before turning around to get your weight from the nurses while Magda mops up Pernille's sweaty forehead and pulls her in for a gentle, loving kiss.

"You did it," She whispers," She's here."

Pernille, still exhausted, manages a smile. "She's here."

"For the mamas," The doctor says in stilted English.

He passes the bundle into Magda's arms.

You're finally quiet, swaddled securely in the baby blanket your parents had picked out for you weeks ago. You're staring up at her, with wide unblinking eyes. Your mouth is open and sucking on the air, rooting for milk already.

There are wisps of hair on your head and Magda gently unwraps you. You whine a little at the loss of warmth but quieten instantly when you are laid on Pernille's bare chest.

She looks down at you with a soft look. Her finger came up to stroke your cheek. You turn your head, lips searching for milk but catching her finger instead.

She coos at you as you suckle on her finger, eyes drooping shut.

Pernille looks up at Magda, who has her camera out and has already taken pictures she knows are going to be framed on the wall of her London home.

"She's here," Pernille says again with a watery smile.

"She is," Magda replies. She joins Pernille on the bed and gently strokes your little wisps of hair. "Look at her. We've done so well. She's so sweet."

"You make beautiful babies," Pernille says with a smile.

Magda laughs. "You can't say that to anyone. I've already gotten annoyed with the teasing about me knocking you up."

"Mm," Pernille laughs too," But you did knock me up. I've got the outcome right here."

Your eyes are open again, blinking to adjust to the light and your new outside surroundings. You suck more heavily on Pernille's finger.

"I think she needs a feed," Magda says.

●～●～●～●～

They're discharged from hospital the next day and Magda hovers incessantly when they take you back to Pernille's apartment.

Your nursery has been set up for weeks now, in anticipation when Magda had last visited and raided the local IKEA, building everything herself.

You're dressed up snugly in a bunny onesie, your feet kicking as your finally placed in your crib - which had been immediately moved into Pernille's room when it became clear that neither she nor Magda wanted to be separated from you.

"Hi, princesse," Magda coos.

You kick your legs again.

"You're so pretty, yes you are."

You're kicking becomes more repetitive as you stick your fist in your mouth.

"Look at those legs go. You're going to be such a good addition to Sweden when you're older."

"You mean Denmark," Pernille rasps. She rubs her eyes, having just taken a quick power nap. "I'm not raising my daughter to wear a Sweden jersey."

Magda rolls her eyes playfully. This conversation had been happening ever since they found out Pernille was pregnant. "We'll see."

Pernille picks you up gently, supporting your head before guiding Magda to the rocking chair, slowly placing you in her arms.

Magda leans down to kiss your head and breathe in your unique newborn smell. She smiles. You stare up at her.

A camera sounds and Magda doesn't even have to look up to know Pernille is grinning.

"That's getting framed," Pernille says," I think I'll put it on my bedside table. So I can remember this moment with you and the princesse."

"We need to give her a name soon," Magda says as Pernille crouches by the rocking chair and pulls the onesie's hood up onto your head, making it look like you have floppy bunny ears. "We can't keep calling her the princesse."

"Mmm." Pernille's finger strokes over your cheek. "I know it wasn't on the list but I like y/n."

"y/n," Magda repeats," Is that your name? Are you a y/n?"

You kick your legs out, catching Magda in the ribs.

"That's a pretty powerful strike, princesse. I think she's giving us her approval."

Pernille's eyes are so full of love that Magda almost bursts into tears. "I think so too. y/n Harder-Eriksson."

"y/n Eriksson-Harder."

"We've got another day before the trip to the embassies. We'll argue about her last name later," Pernille says," What matters right now is princesse has a name now."

"It's a very pretty name."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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7waystreet · 4 months ago

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dirty confessions | park jimin

This BTS 18+ explicit series will include 7 diary entries (one from each of the bangtan boys) confessing to the dirty thoughts they have about (y/n) and the sinful sexual acts they've part taken in during their lives.

I kindly ask the reader to start with pt.1 and end with pt.7 since it's a series and will contain overlapping scenarios and characters ♡

✬ foreword pt. 1 — seokjin pt. 2 — yoongi pt. 3 — namjoon pt. 4 — hoseok pt. 5 — jimin pt. 6 — taehyung pt. 7 — jungkook

pt. 5 — jimin

My dear diary ❀

I have a confession to make. I've always had a deep rooted fantasy about watching my gf (y/n) pleasuring both me and Taehyung together... you know, just like an extra step to solidify our '95 liner soulmate status. And I'm so fucking thrilled to report to you that it finally happened.

Taehyungie doesn't even have to say any words for me to already know how he's feeling... he's a part of me, after all. My intuition that he had the hots for my lovely (y/n) proved to be right when I finally confronted him about it while we were all piss drunk at the karaoke bar last week. I caught him staring at my baby's ass and biting his lips so I light heartedly whispered in his ear if he wanted a piece of that delicious booty, only for him to sloppily slur back "Hell yeah Jiminah, I'd tear her pussy right up like you do every day, you lucky fuck."

Little did he know how hard my cock instantly got listening to his dirty wishes aligning with mine.

Now that I knew Taehyungie was excitedly on board, it felt like a big mission to also convince (y/n) to join in on the fun. Her and I have been together for so long, and I'm grateful to have found someone who makes me feel this comfortable and happy. You already know I've written pages and pages of how much she means to me... which is exactly why I didn't even feel nervous proposing my deepest desire to her. But I was certainly taken aback by the way she reacted to it when I'd asked her.

"What do you think of Tae? Would you be down for a threesome with you, me and him?" I'd proposed while we laid cuddled up in each other's arms on our soft, comfy bed together.

The words "I'm down" popped out of her pretty lips quicker than her fine ass had made me cum the first time we had fucked... quicker than a fucking second, that is.

At first I was confused by her enthusiasm... I didn't understand whether she'd been secretly lusting for Taehyung and was just desperately waiting for this opportunity to spring up. But then again, even if she did, I know for a fact she never cheated on me and went for him behind my back. Sure, he's the most handsome and fuckable man I've ever met, but she loves me too much and I love her and trust her fully. Besides, I was the one desiring this too, so who am I to blame her for wanting the same?

I felt like a damn manager trying to set up a hangout between us three for this heated session to go down, but despite the effort, I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. I'll never forget that night.

I'd succeeded in getting all three of us settled on the couch in my apartment while we played a movie in the dark and sipped on some wine to ease ourselves in. Of course we all knew what we'd gathered there for, which was a steamy fuck fest, and it was a bit awkward at first, but my brave (y/n) made the first move by placing her pretty palms on each of our thighs as she sat in between the boys. My spine felt a tingle watching her run her hand up and down my shorts, a soft gasp escaping her lips when she saw my milky thigh twitch underneath her touch, all while his other palm smoothed out the wrinkles in Tae's gray sweatpants as she rubbed his thigh in an arousing way.

Her gaze remained on me even though both her hands moved up towards our dicks, her ability to simultaneously massage our hard ons making me fall in love with her all over again. I could hear Tae starting to taking deeper breaths and with one glance at him, I saw his eyes closed and head rolled back into the cushion as he took the feeling of my gf stroking his cock in the darkness, just like she was sexily doing it to me. My loyal (y/n) leaned into me for a kiss but I shook my head... "Go to him" I told her with a smirk and she smiled right back with a nod, giving me a peck before turning her back to me.

God, she's even perfect from the back.

She sat in between us with knees folded up now, leaning into Tae and slowly placing a kiss on his neck, which got him shuddering, his eyes opening up in a flash to observe (y/n) was solely giving him her attention. His first instinct was to shoot me a concerned look, as if he was asking for my permission, but I gave him a go with a nod and he instantly pulled her closer for a deep kiss. Seeing them swapping spits in a steamy makeout started to get me even harder, and my hands just naturally gravitated towards (y/n)'s perfect ass, which was facing me. I squeezed her ass cheeks through her tiny shorts and she whimpered from my touch, slowly crawling back and bending in her knees to angle her ass up in my face more, all while she leaned down and helped Tae take his pants off for a suck.

I just watched for a while... watched the content look on Tae's face as (y/n) took his throbbing cock into her beautiful mouth, his head flopping back into the pillow again as his eyes trailed down at her choking on his length. "Just like that baby" he kept whispering while holding her hair back in a fist, my own arm reaching over to run my fingers through Tae's black curly hair as he sat there throat fucking my gf. I didn't even care about how he kept calling her baby... how could I get mad about my baby calling my baby, baby?

My needs were growing by the second though and now I just had to pull down (y/n)'s shorts for a taste of her pussy, my thick lips attaching to her folds as I laid on the couch and angled myself underneath her, her back arched up until it almost broke. My tongue on her clit and her moaning in reaction got Tae aroused even more, the faster my mouth played around with her sweet pussy the more my best friend's chest kept rising and falling in heaves.

I couldn't take hearing both Tae and (y/n) moaning so loudly so I gave her clit a good suck and flick with my tongue before getting up on my knees and removing my shorts, my boner slapping up just ready to be stuffed inside my gf's tight little pussy. And the room was now filled with all three of our moans when I slid my length in (y/n)'s pussy from the back, the view of her ass jiggling against my stomach while I slammed my cock into her cunt and spanked her ass cheeks immaculate, all while Tae fucked her throat, a sight I'll never forget.

(y/n) was increasingly getting wet, my cock slipping in and out of her while I grunted from the way her walls gripped me, but I was distracted when Tae whined out "I want to taste her pussy". And I happily let him. We easily switched things up, the harmony between our motions almost suspiciously smooth, as if we were all meant to make this happen... hopefully more than this one time.

Tae disappeared in between (y/n)'s thighs when she laid on her back on the couch, her face turned to the side to allow my cock to slide into her mouth as I stood by the couch near her face. God, it felt so great watching Tae eat her out while digging his nails into her thighs, her legs flailing about and throat pulsating from the muffled out shrieks, my cock hitting the back of her mouth and fully nestled inside like a glove. My fantasy was indeed finally my reality, and I came straight down (y/n)'s throat after I reached that intense high which I'd dreamed about for so long. My bub swallowed my load of cum all at once like the good little girl she is, and Tae looked up to take a note of this after hearing my satisfied sigh. It was his turn to enter her all over again.

Tae fucked (y/n) straight to the heavens to say the least, living his own fantasy himself while I leaned down and sucked on (y/n)'s perky tits to up her sensitivity. I know my baby needs that extra kick to reach her orgasm and I was going to help her achieve that like I always do, right as Taehyungie gave her the pounding of her life. I'd already seen his cock since we've showered together in our dorm bathroom before, but never have I ever seen it so rock hard and erect, the veins running down his length making my eyes pop out. I stared at him entering in and out of my girlfriend's pussy while my lips sucked on (y/n)'s puffed out nipples.

She suddenly pulled the hair on the back of my head and made me come up to her lips, her deep desire to kiss me making me feel wanted and needed. It was a boost to my ego knowing Tae was dicking her down but she still wished for my lips to be sealed with hers and that's exactly what we did... my tongue mingling with her squishy one as she desperately panted for a breath, my fingers still pinching her nipples while we continued to make out with a crazy burning passion. Tae's thrusting pace got faster and (y/n) finally let go, her entire body tensing up and freezing as she orgasmed, my lips placing a soft kiss on her lips as she let out a shaky sigh, her chest then collapsing down and her back sinking into the couch.

Tae let out a groan and finally came into my gf as I coaxed sweet words into her ears, a smile curling up her lips even though her eyes were closed since she likes the praises I give her. I told her I love her and she said it back within a flash of a second, her grin widening up after she opened her eyes and locked them with mine.

The best part was cleaning up and going back straight into watching the movie together, all three of us cooled down and comfortable right back on the couch we'd just fucked on. Taehyungah ended up sleeping with his head on (y/n)'s lap while she tucked her face in my chest, my eyes drooping shut with a deep content feeling as I watched the two people I care about the most rest close to me with a new found appreciation and respect for each other.

I fucking love my life.

a/n ♡

i imagined jimin wanting to experiment with his best friend and his gf, his appreciation for both showing throughout his confession. the way he loves them is different; he's more possessive about (y/n) but not in a toxic way since he's willing to share her. and he's in pure awe of tae but doesn't neglect his gf or makes her feel less wanted despite this

— he treats his diary like a friend: says "my dear diary", "report to you", "you know i've written pages and pages" as if he's having a convo with his journal

— his romantic side: he always says "my (y/n)" and calls her lots of endearing words like lovely, brave, pretty, stunning, etc.

— his needy side: when (y/n) expresses she wants intimacy with him, his ego is boosted bcuz he loves to feel wanted. jimin acts this way around the members all the time, being needy for their attention

— his will to put his desires aside to watch the enjoyment on tae and (y/n)'s faces: jimin's a giver and he always puts his members first so it's no shock he's willing to let (y/n) go to tae first before he dives in

#jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin fic #jimin au #jimin oneshot #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #jimin x oc #boyfriend jimin #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #방탄소년단 #dirtyconfessions #7waystreet

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suguwuus · 10 months ago

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★ love bites

*sighs* i miss my man... also will get started on reqs after i post pretty impressive, huh? already set on rewriting hehe

wc: 870

"Have you noticed Michael's hands?"

"They're kinda green honestly, why?"

"That's my fault."

You smacked your boyfriend's arm as he giggled, sounding pleased with himself as he snickered about his most recent prank. Though there was not much reason to be suppressing your noises, as he insisted you sit at the farthest row at the campfire and Michael was leading the singalong anyway so he wouldn't have heard you at all. Unless one of you pushed the other off the log you were sitting on, which could happen anytime. That would've definitely caught more than just Michael's attention.

Luckily no pushing was involved, at least not too much shoving. You whispered and flirted and told jokes and chatted there in the back row. Though you didn't have as much freedom as you would have had at the edge of the woods, you were glad you got to spend time with your boyfriend.

At some point you started rambling about your opinions on the latest counselors' meeting, but you couldn't focus. How could you when every time you looked to the side, you'd see Connor gazing at you like you hung the stars in the sky and rooted the mountains in the earth.?

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so widely and trying to resist it. You'd lose your train of thought every time he'd move an inch beside you. You could've sworn you had the biggest crush on him even after you confessed to each other, even after he said he liked you back, even after the dozen times he'd kissed you at just the right times in just the right ways.

"But that wouldn't be effective, right, because majority of the camp is kids, we wouldn't listen, it won't do much to stop us because we'll keep coming back to do it all over again—what?" You asked, catching him for the millionth time that night just watching you speak. You doubted any words were getting to that head of his as he took your hand.

"You're just damn pretty!" He mumbled, whisper-yelling as he kissed the back of your palm.

"Is it my fault?" You whispered in the same tone.

"Yes." He grinned cheekily, and you squeezed his fingers in response. A moment of silence passed, until he asked, "Can I bite you?"

"What?"

"Can I bite you?" He whispered, slightly louder this time.

"...Okay?"

He giggled, and then continued doing so like an excited child, pulling you closer until there was barely any space between you two. "So cute, sweetie, I love you, hehe, the cutest..." He mumbled words as he pressed kisses onto your skin. You found it endearing until he actually bit the skin on your forearm. Not that it hurt, you just didn't expect the feeling of his teeth on you.

You gasped, but didn't pull away. You watched as he kissed up your arm until he reached your hand, and then continued on each of your knuckles. He nipped at your fingertips with a big grin on his pretty face, and then went on his knees, pulling your legs to straddle his waist while you stayed on the log.

"Didn't think you'd be into this. You got an oral fixation? Or am I just too...sweet?" You started in a low voice as he kissed up your neck, his other hand going to knead your thighs. He nibbled at your neck, collarbones, kissed your cheeks, lips (and left bites on that, too), any exposed skin you were comfortable with him placing his mouth on out here in the open, concealed only by the darkness.

"That's really corny, baby. Maybe you should leave the comedies to me. Gosh, you know, if you weren't wearing long pants right now..."

"But you call me sweetie."

"Yeah."

"Yeah!" You went on, leaving him to his business as he continued, kissing over the spots he nibbled at. Eventually, he slowed down, taking both your hands and cupping his face with them. "Anyway, this is nice. again, unexpected, but it's forgiven because it's you. You think this would look weird if anyone caught us? Nah, I think it should be forgiven because it's you. Is this—what's the word? Cuteness aggression? That's probably what this is. Honestly, I'd prefer you give me a full body bear hug squeeze, but I guess I have no choice but to go to bed covered in—"

"Mhm."

"—Love bites," you finished, beaming at him.

One of his hands went to the small of your back, nudging you to come just a bit closer. Still rubbing circles into your skin, he chuckled. "Love bites? Those aren't love bites."

Your smile faded slightly. "They're not?"

"No?" He paused for a second, then laughed. "Sweetie, do you know what love bites actually are?"

"I don't...I used to think I did, but now, probably not. Wait, what are they? Connor!" You swatted his arm at how his teasing smile quickly grew into a snicker. "I didn't know, okay? I thought it was something else!"

He patted your side, mumbling an apology while holding in more chortles. His eyes glinted with the reflection of the bonfire before he said, "It's alright, N/N, I'll give you real ones next time."

#— suguwuus's posts #connor stoll #pjo #connor stoll x reader #pjo x reader #he wants me so bad guys #gn reader #connor stoll x gn reader

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theseeingfawn · 4 months ago

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Hi Everyone, I have been working on a small town Elriel fic for awhile now and finally decided to post. This is my first time writing fan fiction so please be gentle with me.

Summary:

Elain Archeron, beloved sweetheart of the quaint town of Hewn Hills, yearns for a life beyond the constraints and expectations placed upon her by her family and community. Azriel Rosehall, a captivating yet misunderstood outsider, struggles with the prejudices of the town as he endeavors to forge his own destiny. Drawn to each other by an undeniable connection, Elain and Azriel are determined to be together, even if it means bringing trouble to the charming small-town. “Everything that's worth having is some trouble. - L.M. Montgomery

Chapter 1: Matchmaker Mayhem | Read on A03

Elain

It's official, this is the worst date I have ever been on. It doesn't make sense. The man is gorgeous, almost devilishly so. I've heard nothing but praise about his charm and wit. I've even seen it myself when he didn't think I was looking. But, the man is a nervous wreck and awkward . Or is it me? Maybe we are just feeding off each other's horrible vibes creating a vortex of our own personal hell. I had been reluctant when my sister all but demanded I go on a date with her friend Lucien. For the last couple of years, all Feyre could talk about is how great Lucien is and how funny and on and on and on . It was almost nauseating. I felt like Feyre was close to hiring a skywriter to let the world know that I was destined for her best friend. Ever since she married Rhysand she has taken up the mantle of matchmaker. So, to spare myself from further harassment I relented. Sure, I knew Lucien, but we have never had a meaningful conversation. Nothing other than pleasantries. I also work hard to keep him at arm's length, despite how often we are forced to interact. I see I was right to keep my distance. He seems as reluctant to be here as I am. I almost feel sorry for him… almost .

I'm glad I had the foresight to pick Velaris as our meeting spot and not Hewn Hills, the small town in the suburbs, where we live. I adore Hewn Hills but it is full of nosy nellies and busybodies. My baby sister is the biggest busybody of them all. So, when I suggested my favorite upscale restaurant in the heart of the city, Lucien readily agreed. It would seem he isn’t a big fan of all the meddling either. Though, I assume for different reasons. Thankfully, no one we know is here to witness our nightmare of a date. It didn't make sense. Despite knowing Feyre for years, and serving on our town council together, Lucien doesn't seem to know a thing about me. Well, other than surface level stuff. I sighed internally, of course he doesn't know much about me. My sisters do not truly know me. They only see the version of me that they wish to see, not the real me. No one really did .

I sit here staring off into the distance like I'm lost in a vision, imagining the bubbly young waitress will come back to end my misery. Really, how many awkward silences must I suffer through? As if reading my mind, Lucien broke the quiet tension with a question. “So, you like to garden? What vegetables do you grow,” Lucien asked with the enthusiasm of a root canal patient.“I actually don't grow vegetables, just flowers and herbs for my shop. Vegetables are much more difficult to grow than people realize.” He nodded. Please, where is the waitress.Then it occurred to me, I could use the bathroom and get away. Maybe I could slip out the window and run. What would he do? Tell my sister I gave him the slip? I'd pay good money to see that. No one would believe him. Yes, sneaking out is the answer. I feel like I've won the lottery for coming up with this brilliant idea. “Excuse me, I am just going to freshen up,” I say with syrupy sweetness. I hope I look graceful and not like I am barreling toward the back of the restaurant like I am fleeing the scene of a crime, but I doubt it. Once behind the closed door of the single occupant bathroom I take my first deep breath of the evening. I look around but there is no window, just a floor to ceiling mirror. Son of a bitch. I sigh and gaze at my reflection searching for an answer. Maybe it was my appearance that rendered him stupid. I’ve heard all my life that I’m beautiful. Not the polite kind of beautiful that every mother dotes onto their daughters. But, the type of beauty that could be used. Before she died, my mother dressed me up like her own personal Barbie doll. Taking personal credit for my appearance and awkwardly telling anyone who would listen that I got it from my mama. I cringe just thinking about it. Even my father had dragged me along to client dinners to dangle me in front of prospective clients like a juicy carrot. My sister Nesta is always watching my back, weary of everyone's intentions. Feyre, the bane of my existence at the moment, all but pimped me out to the dullest man in Hewn Hills because she thought her friend's happiness was more important than mine. Just a pawn to be used to make her life more exciting.

That's not entirely fair.

I know I’m seen as a goodie goodie, a pushover. Maybe I am, I caved to Feyre's demands after all. My sisters love to remind me how I am too sweet for my own good. A chaste virginal angel that they must protect at all costs. My reflection taunts me. Not a hair out of place, a flawless exterior that was pleasing to the eye. But, what had that gotten me? A failed engagement. A cage of my own making. Putting everyone else first and myself second. I shake away the bitterness, burying it deep down. It could be worse. At least Lucien is polite and respectful. I could do this, I could muster some enthusiasm and carry on with this date. No matter how much I wanted to shrink into myself. He is just a man and once it was over I could tell Feyre I had given it my best effort but we weren't a love match. Though I knew I didn't give Lucien my best, in many ways I blame him for what happened with Graysen. I just wanted tonight to be over with so I could go home and binge watch tv without a bra on.

With a new sense of purpose, I step back into the bustling restaurant and head toward the table. Lucien has his back to me as he chats on the phone, “you don't understand Jurian. She's so… so… meek, boring even. I don’t know why Feyre keeps insisting we’re soul mates. I know, she is beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman I've ever seen but she is dull , a snoozefest. Just call me in five minutes with a fake emergency so I can bow out.” Stunned, I dropped my head in defeat. Well, I couldn't blame him for wanting out of the world's most awkward first date. But, to call me meek and boring is just mean. I fought the urge to cry. No need to spill tears over Lucien Vanserra. Besides, it's not like he is the sly and charming man I've heard everyone drone on about. He is the snoozefest. He has barely said a word to me all evening. He is the headliner of the snoozefestival. How dare he!!!

I slide back into my chair and slap on the biggest fake smile I can muster. “Has our waiter stopped by?” I asked, pretending that I don't want to kick him in the shin. “No, not yet. This place is getting packed. It's hard to even hear what you're saying, we can just listen to the music and Ow!” Lucien hunches over and grabs his leg. “Oh my, I'm so sorry! I went to cross my legs but didn't realize you were so close,” I feigned innocence as I bat my eyes at him. I turn my head from his scowl before I start laughing. My eyes peruse the growing crowd of people streaming through the door and there he is.

His dark hair swept back off of his face, dressed in an immaculate black suit that hugs his sculpted form. I don't let myself admit this often but I have a tiny, itty bitty crush on Rhysand's mysterious brother, Azriel . Even his name is beautiful. I have only interacted with him at family functions but the sight of him alone is enough to make me swoon. He is always busy working some sort of mysterious job. I never get a straight answer on what it is that he does because it is all very hush hush. I caught bits and pieces from eavesdropping on conversations when no one was paying attention to me. They rarely pay attention to me. I know it involves surveillance work and traveling, which only adds to his allure. I like to pretend he is a spy like James Bond or even a kingpin in the mob. A dangerous job for a dangerous man. At least I like to pretend he has a dangerous side, he certainly looks like he does. He has dark features and is always draped in black and cobalt blue clothing. He is stoic with a piercing hazel gaze that could slice right through you. He is hard to read but I feel like his eyes give him away. It's the way the corners wrinkle slightly or glow brighter when he is happy. It's how directly he stares when he is mad and fighting the urge to speak out. Despite his appearance, he is always kind and thoughtful toward me. He holds the door for me or pulls out my chair at the dinner table. One time, after I spent all of Thanksgiving day cooking, he took the serving dish from my hands so I could sit down and enjoy the meal I worked so hard on. He even made everyone wait until I sat to eat. Men are rarely that chivalrous these days. The memory sends my heart racing. Azriel is quiet, but not awkward the way Lucien is currently behaving. He is confident and reserved in a way that adds to his enigmatic persona.

I watch him as he walks through the door and turns to the stunning blonde behind him, Mor. He was on a date with her . I recall the time I overheard Feyre telling Nesta that Azriel was in love with Mor. It made sense I suppose, she is gorgeous and has a way about her that makes it seem like she was lit from within. But a part of me doesn’t believe it. Feyre is often wrong about these kinds of things. Look at me and Lucien, she thinks we are fated. But, this date feels like pulling teeth. “Elain, did you hear me?” I shook myself out of my daze, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Lucien let out a sigh, “I asked if you like bread,'' Confused, I looked at the basket that was placed in front of me. I want to roll my eyes. Does he not remember that I own a bakery? “Who doesn't like bread, Lucien?” He scoffed, “you would be surprised, there are people out there who can't tolerate it.” I blink once, and then again. “That was a joke,” he states as if he were teaching humor to a martian. “Oh,” is all I can muster as I look at the bread, pleading with it to save me from this man. A dad joke, really?

Suddenly there is a long dark shadow cast over the table. My eyes shoot up to meet hazel ones. “I hope I'm not interrupting,” Azriel says, appearing like an answered prayer. “Azriel! It’s so good to see you,” I beamed, hoping the relief in my tone isn’t as obvious as it seems. The corner of his mouth ticks upward, “it's good to see you too Elain. I hope you have been well.” Gods he is beautiful and tall. Why is he so tall? He smells divine. I wonder if he is just visiting for a few days? Lucien clears his throat. I look at him, realizing I am still on a date. “Azriel, this is Lucien, you know, Feyre's friend.” Azriel slowly turns to Lucien and dips his head in greeting, turning back to me. “I didn't expect to see you out in the city,” he says with a curious look in his eyes. I smile shyly, “I'm… here on a date.” He looks back to Lucien slowly raking his gaze up and down, a hint of displeasure in his assessment. “I see. I'm just grabbing a bite with Mor.” He turns towards his companion who is sitting at a table across the restaurant. “I just wanted to stop by and say hello. I’ve taken a new assignment and will be in this area for the next few months. Hopefully we will see more of each other.” My smile widens, I would certainly love to see more of him. Azriel's lip quirks up ever so slightly on one side. BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

Lucien apologizes and grabs his phone, a puzzled look on his face. “Hold on. It's my roommate. It's odd he is calling since he knowsIi'm on a date.” He answers it quickly, while holding up a finger to shush Azriel and me. “Wait, what's wrong? Calm down.” Wow, he is really committing to the bit. “Are you sure? Okay… I am on my way,” he ends the call and looks up. “I'm sorry to have to do this but there's an emergency and I'm going to have to end our date early.” I fight back a chortle. “Oh no! What kind of an emergency, a flat tire or dead grandma?” Azriel coughs and turns away. Lucien looking stunned mutters out, “uhhh a flat tire.” I wave over the waitress who miraculously appears from nowhere, “Can we get our check?” I turn back to Lucien, “Sorry to hear about your roommates flat tire. I hate when that happens.” Before Lucien can reply, the waitress comes back with the bill. It's for two drinks and a bread basket. I start to pull out my wallet when Azriel clears his throat. Lucien looks from me to Azriel. Azriel asks with an unamused expression, “Aren't you going to pay, since it's a date?” My jaw nearly hits the floor. Lucien sputters and fumbles for his wallet. Hastily slinging a twenty dollar bill on the table. “Well it's been… a date. I will catch you around Elain.” Lucien shuffles around the crowd making a hasty exit. I keel over in a fit of quiet laughter the second Lucien bolts for the door. You know the kind of silent laughter where your shoulders shake and you can hardly breathe? That kind. I feel a warm rough hand stroke my upper arm sending a shiver down my spine. “Hey, it's okay, don't be upset,” came the soothing timbre of Azriel's voice. I look up to see his worried expression and start laughing even harder. His hand stills on my arm and grips me lightly. “Why are you laughing?” he asks, bemused by my giggling fit. I wipe away a few wayward tears as I fight back a bout of hiccups. “ it's just… it's just…” I snort. An honest to gods snort so loud that it draws the attention of at least three neighboring tables. Azriel is smiling fully now. A toothy smile that I just know he rarely gives to anyone. It over takes his whole face making him somehow even more handsome. Seeing him this way suddenly calms my laughing fit and I clear my throat. “It's just, we were having the worst date in the history of dates and he was so desperate to get away he made up an excuse to bail. But, I have to say his acting was pretty solid.” Azriel looks at me a little stunned, “you're not upset, not mad?” I smile again, “I can’t blame him, I wanted to escape through the bathroom window but they didn't have one.” His smile lingers as he stares at me. “You making him pay for the bill was just icing on the cake.” Azriel hums before saying, “it was the least I could do.” I stand and grab my small handbag off the table. “Well, Azriel, I’m happy I got the chance to see you. It’s been too long, I'm glad to hear you’ll be sticking around for a while.” He looks down towards his shoes and back up, the faintest blush on his cheeks. “Have a good evening,” I bid him farewell and walk out onto the street.

I stop to take a deep breath, cleansing myself of the bad date energy. It was terrible but at least I went out and could tell Feyre to back off. It had been several years since I had mustered the courage to date. Not since Graysen. I’m about to take a step when I felt a hand grab the back of my elbow. “Wait, I wanted to make sure you were truly okay.” I whirl around to see Azriel staring down at me. My heart flutters once again, the way it always does in his presence. His face was elegant with high cheekbones, a fine nose and a sharp jawline. In the halo of the street lamp he looked like a fallen angel. His scarred hand was still on my arm, a rose tattoo covered the back of it. “That's very thoughtful of you, but truly I’m okay. My pride is a little wounded but I'll get over it.” He studies me for a long moment before he leans in, “You're too nice Elain.” I stiffen but can't exactly argue. “He's a fool you know? Any man would be lucky to date you.” My stomach fills with butterflies. It was my turn to blush under the weight of his sincere gaze. I swallow the lump in my throat. “You should get back to your date, Azriel. I would hate to take up any more of your time.” He looks over his shoulder and back to me, as if confused. Maybe he was remembering where he was and what he was doing. “Are you sure you're okay? Do you need me to take you home? You could join us…” his thumb tenderly rubbing up and down my arm. He was probably just being kind because I'm Feyre's sister. The thought saddens me. “I'm sure Azriel, no need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” He looks unsure or perhaps he is just reluctant to let me go. His hand is still stroking my arm. “It was lovely to see you, maybe we can catch up another time?” A smile tugs at my lips, “I'd like that.”

Azriel

I can't believe my luck. I get back into the city and happen to bump into the girl I have been obsessing over for months. Truth be told, I have a thing for Elain Archeron. How could I not? She is gorgeous and so incredibly kind. She radiates joy and has a way of making everyone around her feel special. I am normally so good with the opposite sex. Hell I have quite the reputation as a ladies man but something about her leaves me feeling like a lovesick teenager. I wish I had a reason to make her stick around and spend the evening with me but I know I probably shouldn't.

I watch Elain walk away down the crowded street. Utterly lost in the way the wind catches her long golden hair. The way her dress skims over her gentle curves. What I wouldn't do to get the chance to touch her. I exhale slowly, burying my thoughts on her deep down, as I always do. I walk back into the restaurant and sit across from Mor. Once, many years ago I thought I loved Mor. But I mistook her kindness for love. I had never been around a girl my own age until I met her. She is so gregarious and radiates confidence. So when she doted on me, I read the signals all wrong. I built up something that was never really there. It took too long to discover that Mor preferred women. Even after, I held out hope that she would change her mind. Truth be told, it allowed me to keep other women at a distance. If I hid all of my feelings in the safety of Mor's friendship I never had to address my own issues with intimacy. But, I was done hiding behind Mor and living in denial. I started to realize I could never be happy if I didn’t face reality, no matter how scary it was for me to open up to her. It was awkward and she was hesitant to even hear me out. It was worth it though, because now she was my friend and one of my closest confidants.

“So, how was sweet Elain?” she asks. Elain didn't know Mor well, but Mor knew all about Elain. Mor being a family friend of Rhys’ was well informed on the Archeron sisters. “She seems okay, though it looks like she was having a bad date. He actually ditched her.” Mor gapes, “that piece of shit! Who was it?” I sneer, “Lucien Vanserra.” Mor rolls her eyes, “seems as though Feyre finally wore her down.” l hum in agreement. I’ll never understand why Feyre thinks Lucien and Elain would make a good pair. I suspect she wants Lucien to stick around and worries he wouldn’t without some other incentive. Feyre dated Tamlin, Lucien’s former college roommate and friend. After the nasty break up Lucien had taken Feyre’s side. But, he had grown distant and their friendship never fully recovered. So, she clings to the hope that if Elain marries Lucien he will become a permanent fixture in her life. Feyre also loves to meddle in other people's lives. She likes to think she has a gift for connecting people but in reality she is terrible at it. No, truly terrible. Her own love life until Rhys had been a shitshow so it puzzles me why Feyre thought so highly of her skills in the love department. I know Elain is too good for Lucien. I don't hate the man but he doesn’t seem like the type of man she needs. Especially after his pathetic stunt this evening.

I think back to Elain, how utterly beautiful she looked. The way her skin seemed to glow, how her face lit up when she laughed. The utterly intoxicating smell of her jasmine perfume. I hate the thought of her dating Lucian. I hate the way they look together, the way she seems to shrink around him. She is a bright shining light in a world of darkness. She deserves someone who appreciates how special she truly is.

“Hello, Earth to Azriel,” Mor says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “I'm sorry Mor, what were you saying?” She sighs. “I should have known the second you saw her that I'd lost your focus for the evening.” My eyes snap up, face utterly unreadable. “What's that supposed to mean?” Mor pats my hand and I pull it away. I hate it when people touch my hands . “Don't play dumb with me Azriel. I know you too well.” I narrow my eyes, weighing my next words carefully. “I'm not playing dumb. I'm just concerned after Lucien ditched her.” Mor gives me an unimpressed look. “For what it's worth, I think you should ask her out. You two would make the hottest couple.” She pumps her eyebrows at me suggestively. “I'm not going to ask her out… that's absurd… Why would you even suggest that?” Mor tilts her head back and laughs, “oh you have it bad.” I give her an incredulous look, “I can't date anyone, I travel too much for work, not to mention it could be dangerous. Besides, I'm not interested in falling in love.” She gives me her no nonsense face. I want to protest but there is that old saying about protesting too much and I don't want to egg her on. “Let's just drop it and enjoy our evening,” I say, refusing to take the bait. Mor sighs, “here's the deal Azzy, I will enjoy a lovely meal, which you are paying for, by the way. But, I'm not forgetting you are pining after you know who.”

“Fine,” I bite out.

“Have you decided where you are going to stay?” She asks in a tone that feels suspiciously like prying into more than just my place of residence. I shrug, “My assignment is in Windhaven.” Mor scrunches her nose in distaste. Not that I blame her, Windhaven is a shithole. “I don't have to live there full time, but I do have to stay a few days a week.” She nods, “why not stay in Hewn Hills?” There it is, her not so innocent suggestion. It's like she knows what I have planned. She knows me too well. I eye her suspiciously. “Don't give me that look, Az. Velaris is too far from Windhaven, and Hewn Hills is adorable.” It is a nice town, I wouldn't call it adorable. Though there is something there worth adoring . “They have great hiking trails, the parks are beautiful, and the downtown is just like Stars Hollow.” I sigh, “you don't have to convince me Mor, I've already booked a bed and breakfast.” She squeals, and I feel a headache forming. I rub my temple, “don't get too excited. It's the most logical choice.” She claps excitedly, “oh i just love it there, and now I have another reason to visit. You know I love Rita's and don't get me started on Petals.” I give her a perturbed look and pray to the gods that she doesn't read into anything more than she already has. There is only one reason I’m staying in Hewn Hills, Elain . Seeing her with Lucien tonight only reinforces the notion that I need to be close to her. Is it the smart thing to do? No, but I can’t seem to keep away. I’m just glad Mor’s job will keep her distracted from joining Feyre in competing for the biggest pain in the ass award.

#elriel #azriel x elain #elain x azriel #elriel fic #elriel fanfic

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wrightingdungeon · 5 months ago

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The Past Reborn

I was re-reading “Dear Diary” and this wicked angst popped into my head…. I'm not sorry I like making people cry! I'm just sorry Alex, Mee Maw, and Pop Pop are a angst farm some how

Final part here BTW

Warnings: Farmer go boom, I kinda blow up the ASS trio, Alex punches Sam, Cursing, ANGST, its 3 am ill come fix any errors later

Alex had always hated that you used bombs. The first time he found out was when you used some to clear out boulders on your property. That caused a few arguments, but he just wanted you safe. I mean, look at his grandfather. Though Alex wasn't born when his grandfather had his dynamite accident, the story was a haunting family legend. The accident was a constant reminder of the dangers of explosives. George narrowly escaped with his life but was left wheelchair-bound. For Alex, the story was a cautionary tale. Even without witnessing it, the vivid descriptions from his grandparents painted a clear picture. It instilled in him a deep-seated fear and aversion to using any explosives.

Every time you mentioned using explosives, Alex felt a surge of anxiety. He knew you were careful, but the inherent risk always loomed large in his mind. The fear of a repeat of his grandfather's fate was a constant source of stress. Ultimately, Alex's concerns were rooted in love and a deep desire to see you safe. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you to an avoidable accident.

Today was one of the many arguments over your use of explosives. “I don't care if it's faster! I don't want you using them, Farmer!” He grabbed the back of the couch, his head held low. “Please.” He begged shaking the couch slightly, looking over at you, tears welling up in his eyes. "Please..." He was scared that he'd lose you; he had already lost his parents, and his grandparents weren't getting any younger. You are his rock.

“Alex, baby.” He watched as you walked over and carefully took his face in one hand, taking his hand in the other, pulling him into a hug. “Ok… I'll stop, ok,” you said, kissing his cheek and holding him close. Alex sighed out brokenly, warm tears still falling as he held you tightly. “Thank you, babe, thank you,” he said, kissing the top of your head as he rocked you slowly, so happy he had gotten you to listen. The weight of his fear seemed to lift slightly, knowing you understood the depth of his concern. You could feel his body shaking as he clung to you, each sob making your heartache.

You had sold some but Abigail, Sam, and Sebastian had bought some. He observed as they excitedly packed their bags with the tools for their next mining expedition. Abigail carefully tucked the cherry bombs into her pouch, while Sam and Sebastian joked about blowing up rocks. It gnawed at him, this uneasy feeling, watching his friends prepare to venture into the depths armed with explosives. Yet, he remained silent, conflicted between his concern for their safety and his respect for their autonomy as adults. He also didn't think any amount of begging would get the Three Stooges to listen to him like it worked for you.

Alex remembered it was a warm Wednesday afternoon. Haley, Emily and Him hanging outside with Dusty before Emily's shift started. “Where's your lover today?” Haley teased poking Alex in the side. Rolling his eyes he pushed her hand away chuckling at her. “They said they needed something from the mines.” He said crossing his arms and watching Emily play tug of war with Dusty. “Oh, I think Abigail and the boys headed down as well.” Emily piped up as she pulled the dog toy back and forth. “I asked Abby if she had any crystals and she said she was going to get more.” Alex nodded and shrugged.

“More people the better, no one will get snuck up o-” Suddenly screams filled the air, Abigail and Sebastian’s. “HARVEY!!!! HARVEY!!!” The two were a blur as they ran down the steps booking it to Harvey's Clinic. As the screams pierced the air, Alex's mind raced, grappling with the stark reality of the situation. His heart pounded against his chest, each beat echoing the urgency of the moment. He struggled to control his breathing, feeling the panic rise within him like a tidal wave threatening to engulf him.

The sight of Sebastian's anguish-stricken face, his arms wrapped protectively around the injured figure of the Farmer, seared into Alex's consciousness, leaving an indelible mark of despair. It was a moment frozen in time, one that would haunt him for days to come, his heart sinks at the sight of your limp body, covered in burns that blister and ooze, and bruises that mar your once flawless skin. Your head bounces limply against his chest, a painful reminder of the violence you endured. Sebastian and Abigail, though also bruised, seem almost untouched compared to the severity of your injuries. Sweat beads on Alex's forehead as he struggles to comprehend the horror before him, his mind racing with fear and desperation, searching for help in the midst of the chaos.

His eyes remained fixated on the Clinic. Despite Haley and Emily's attempts to draw his attention, his focus was unwavering, ears ringing with a deafening silence. Haley and Emily have to physically make him look at them their mouths moving silently open and shut to Alex. As Haley and Emily exchanged glances looking behind him, his dread intensified, compelling him to turn and face whatever awaited. Sam came limping down the steps after his friends, his limp was more severe than Abigail or Sebastian's injuries. Sam glanced towards Harvey's before meeting the gaze of Alex, Emily, and Haley, guilt etched across his features.

The dull ringing in his ears was replaced with a buzzing anger that drowned out everything else as he glared at Sam, who looked guilty, fully aware of what had transpired. Without realizing it, Alex found himself confronting Sam, pinning him against the wall of Pierre's shop, his forearm pressing into Sam's chest. “WHAT DID YOU DO!” Alex bellowed, ready to knock Sam's head off, his emotions teetering on the edge, tears threatening to spill. Sam, trembling with fear, raised his hands defensively. “I-Im sorry! I-I did-didn't know!” he stammered, meeting Alex's gaze with a mixture of dread and remorse. “KNOW WHAT!” Alex demanded, slamming Sam into the wall again, ignoring the attempts of Haley and Emily to restrain him. "They... they just came down the ladder! There was no one around, and they just... came down!" Sam explained amidst sobs, offering a fragmented account of how they all ended up injured while trying to fend off the unexpected onslaught. “We tried to stop it!” He sobbed his body shaking with fear and pain from his own burns.

Amidst Alex's growing fury, the truth began to emerge. Sam's actions had set off an explosive chain of events, and Farmer happened to be descending the ladder at that precise moment. Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian sprang into action, attempting to stop the impending disaster, but the Farmer bore the brunt of the blast, followed by Sam, then Sebastian and Abigail, in their desperate but futile attempts to intervene.

Alex's scream pierced the air, raw and primal. Tears streamed down his contorted face, blending with sweat. Fury burned in his eyes, but behind it, terror loomed large. His body trembled, muscles taut, veins bulging. He snapped and decked Sam in the jaw. He had told Farmer to be careful, he let them sell the stupid bombs to these morons, it was his fault…. It was all his fucking fault. You got hurt because of him.

Haley and Emily grabbed Alex pulling him back. “ALEX! STOP IT!” Haley yelled hugging his arm close to her and pulling him back. “Come on, just come on!” Emily said ash she pulled at his other arm. She motioned to Sam with her head as she and her sister pulled Alex off Sam. Pierre and Caroline had come out of their shop during the commotion, having heard Sam's body hit their outer wall, they grabbed Sam and pulled him away as the girls dragged Alex back home.

Evelyn was heading outside and met the trio at the door. “What is going on? Who is screaming like that?” She asked, her eyes landing on her grandson. “Alex, sweetheart…” She said carefully, taking the boy into her arms, and wiping his tears with her thumbs. “What's all the yelling about!” George hollered out as he wheeled himself to the entryway. “Alex punched Sam…” Haley said softly. “What! Alex baby?” Evelyn asked, looking up at him, her eyes full of worry. “He… He blew up Farmer!” Alex cried and sobbed out falling to his knees hugging his grandmother, his sobs loud, his whole body shaking with each sound. Evelyn gasped covering her mouth before hugging Alex back. “Oh Yoba…”

“What happened?!” George barked out looking at the girls his face contorted in anger. “We… don't know,” Haley said softly as she rubbed circles in Alex's back. “Abby and Sebastian came running yelling for Harvey… The Farmer… uhh.” Emily looked at Alex not knowing what to say not wanting to upset him further. “Sam said it was an accident though, you know he'd never do that on purpose,” Emily said, looking at George. Evelyn and George shared a look that only time could read. “Help me get him up, sweetheart.” Evelyn with Haley's help got Alex to his feet and led him into the living room.

Sitting him down on the couch his body shaking, tears and heavy sobs racking his body. Evelyn held him close, petting his hair and letting him sob into her, quietly shushing him. “We have him, girls,” George said softly as he looked back at his wife and grandson. “Thank you, and please, apologize for us.” He said as he led the girls out of the house.

The town had a different heavy atmosphere that day. Three families have to bandage and care for their children, one family has flashbacks to days long past brought to the present, and one life is held in limbo.

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martialartslover7 · 1 month ago

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Headcanon time: Am I the only one who feels like, Jiraiya should have left this little compensation gift for Tsunade, before heading off to fight Pain? Dying in the process, while still leaving a remainder of his legacy behind? Making up for lost time, and allowing the two to heal together, after years of fearful denial and trauma?

I get that the Naruto series is practically infamous for how poorly the female characters were handled, but honestly, this one time, where one woman in the series would end up pregnant, where I would wholeheartedly SUPPORT it, would be Tsunade. Think about it, after the war, after fighting Madara, she practically returned to the same solitude lifestyle she had, before encountering Naruto. She didn't change for the better, in fact, she regressed completely. She returned to living without any purpose, going back to gambling and getting senselessly drunk, practically every day.

Look, I get it, by the time Kakashi becomes Hokage, she might have just retired and wanted to be left alone, but is this really all there is to it? Just regressing back to negative habits, because, screw you? I dunno, man, this is that one time where, if she DID end up having a child to take care of, it might have elevated her character, instead of "putting her down", because it would mean: She has a purpose for living. And it would mean, her love for Jiraiya wasn't a "curse", like how it was with her previous lover, Dan. Jiraiya's love for her, saved her life, in the end. He turned out to be that one guy, that, even post-mortum, still managed to have a positive influence on her. And the child is a daily reminder, of how closely intertwined the two were, in spite of the trauma. That just sounds so beautiful, and far more conclusive to Tsunade as a character, than what happened in the actual story. Plus, she and Kurenai could have become besties and connect over the difficulties with pregnancy.

And yeah, I hear you calling: BuT tSuNaDe Is ToO oLd To GeT pReGgErS! Listen, the Strength of a Hundred Seal kept her entire appearance and body about twenty years younger, if that also applies to her organs and her uterus, that isn't a dead topic. Plus, we all know how much of a horny perv Jiraiya is, he couldn't have just left it at just one time, and then never again. Especially since, this is Tsunade we are talking about here, the one woman, he had always held so dear. And I can only imagine, the moment the dam breaks between the two, it would get... SPICY.

It wouldn't even come close to all these sex worker ladies that Jiraiya had probably slept with, while thinking about Tsunade, since he would always go for those, who KIND OF resemble her. But I will bet, in spite of his attitude, I doubt he would have even minded to see Tsunade all wrinkly and old. His love for her was genuine and deep-rooted, I doubt he would have had any problems with her getting "saggy". She would have been THE golden exception, to most of his "rules" on what he finds attractive, because to him, everything about her, is attractive, not just the looks.

But another point to consider, just imagine, IMAGINE, the look on Naruto's face, the moment he learns that part of his father figure will continue to live on, inside Tsunade. That all his sacrifices were never in vain, and he finally got over himself to tell her the truth, resulting in the birth of their child, the one to carry on both of their legacies. Naruto would have cherished this baby, just imagine him tearfully cradling it in his arms, swearing to protect it, the same way his mom swore to him, when he was still a newborn. Oh god, my heart...

...it would also be a nice callback to how Kushina held Naruto, right after birth.

Plus, it would have given Naruto, much like when Shikamaru revealed to him, how Kurenai bore the child of her and Asuma before he died, a much bigger motivation to fight Madara, Obito, and later, Sasuke. The stakes would have become way higher then, if that were the case, since, this isn't anyone's child, it's Jiraiya's and Tsunade's child. Two people, who have played major roles in Naruto's life, being his foster parents, if you will. And he would have fought way harder to defend the past, the present and the future, while facing Sasuke. I mean, sure, it's doubtful if Sasuke would have ever had the guts to truly go through with this, since he couldn't even bring himself to kill either Naruto or Sakura, no matter how hard he tried, so, if he couldn't do that, then everything would be out of the question. But you get the point.

And for NaruHina and SasuSaku fans: Yup. Both Naruto and Sakura would have probably had to take care of Tsunade's baby, since they were the closest to her, and it could have been an ideal training method for either of them, to grasp all about the stressful nature of raising a child, while still working as shinobi and in their respective fields of work. It would have mentally prepared either of them, for when Hinata and Sasuke finally decide to tie the knot with them, and build their own families. And to add another layer of pure sweetness: Kakashi and Anko would have gotten announced as the child's godparents, should something happen to Tsunade. Nuff' said.

I am sorry, despite Kakashi and Anko not looking like it, I think, both of them would be AWESOME godparents, or hell, even uncle and aunt. Both saw the worst of what life had to offer. Raising a child would be... child's play, by contrast. Just imagine Anko adorably doting on the baby in her crazy, unhinged, but very endearing way.

There you go, another headcanon of mine, spilled. What do you guys think? Lemme know. Peace.

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leaentries · 1 year ago

Note

omgomgomg

nick moldenhauer seems that typa guy who would love to date more curvier/chubbier girls

so may i request a blurb which contains of the reader being insecure about herself but nick shows you that ur the most beautiful girl ever ;) (winkwink)

so angst/fluff to smut 🥹🥹🥹

ooooo i love the idea of nick with a chubbier girl!

warnings: mentions of insecurities, oral (f. receiving)

wc: 1.1k+ (i promise i didn't mean for it to be this long...)

The Big House was raging. The waves of blue and maize began to blur together as the crowd erupted with cheers. Michigan had won, with no surprise to you. However, you didn’t find yourself nearly as excited as the rest of your peers. The certain blonde that had taken place on the other side of your boyfriend proved to put a damper on your mood.

It didn’t bother you, at first, but when you noticed the numerous number of male eyes that would drift towards her, you couldn’t help but become a bit self-conscious. There was no denying the fact that she was gorgeous, with her wavy short blonde hair and picture-perfect body. What didn’t help was the fact that she clearly had taken a liking to your boyfriend.

Finding every excuse to talk or graze her hand on Nick’s arm, the continuous irritation in the pit of your stomach grew. You became sorely aware of the way you didn’t look anything like her. Of the way your stomach was rounder than hers or the way you had extra rolls she didn’t. The crowd suddenly became suffocating.

Needing to get out, you lightly tugged on Nick’s arm. Feeling your touch, he broke out of his celebratory conversation with Luca to turn your way. “What’s up, baby?” He asked with a smile. That smile soon faded as he noticed your troubled face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Not finding the strength to explain, you simply stated you needed to leave. Nodding along, Nick guided you out through the dense crowd as fast as he could. You remained silent until you reached your dorm. Nick knew your roommate wouldn’t be back for a while, as she always went the the post-game parties.

Walking into the cool air of your dorm, you finally felt like you could properly breathe. You took a few deep breaths in order to ground yourself. Nick gently cupped your flushed face.

“Y/n? Baby, what’s going on?” Deep concern was rooted in his voice. You shook your head slightly, turning to sit on the edge of your bed. Nick followed you, moving to stand between your plushy thighs. He set his hands on the side of your thighs, mindlessly tracing the dimples there. A sentiment you found endearing, but now felt irking. You softly pushed his hands away.

“I don’t know, Nicky.” He gave you a quizzical look, “One second I was fine, but then that girl showed up, a-and I got so self-conscious. I saw the way the guys were looking at her. I guess I got scared you would look at her that way too.” Before Nick had a chance to respond, you continued, “Not that I would blame you, she was perfect. And I am clearly,” you gestured towards your body, “Not.”

Nick’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. How could you feel that way? Don’t you see yourself the way he does? “Stop. Don’t you ever say things like that in front of me again. Y/n, you are absolutely perfect. I don’t think you understand my feelings towards you at all.” Nick looked deep into your eyes, his favorite eyes. “You are the only one I would ever want to look at. Baby, you were made for me.”

Tears swelled in your eyes as you looked up at him. He reached a hand up to gently wipe a tear away with his thumb, “Don’t cry, beautiful.” With his hand remaining on your cheek, he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “Let me show you how beautiful you are.” He mumbled against your lips before pressing them back harder.

You found yourself becoming more needy, the heat in your core igniting like a fire. Your lips crashed together in a mess of desperation for each other. You wrapped your thighs around his middle, pulling him closer. His lips trailed from yours down your jaw to your neck. He placed slow, taunting kisses that left you breathless. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling. He groaned at the sensation.

Nick brought his hands to your shirt, lips leaving your neck only to return once your shirt was off. He lowered, leaving hot kisses down the column of your throat, through the valley of your breasts, and down to your stomach. He made sure to give extra attention to the stretch marks that covered the expanse.

While he continued to pepper kisses along your round stomach, he skillfully removed your shorts and panties in one go, helping you shimmy them down your thick thighs. Nick sunk to his knees, positioning his face in front of your dripping core, placing a sweet kiss on your clit.

“Fuck,” you moaned out, “Please Nicky, need you so bad.” You attempted to raise your hips to meet his face. He held your hips down but still decided not to tease you. His lips locked onto your clit, switching between sucking and circling with his tongue. You threw your head back in pleasure. With eyes screwed shut, your hands found their way back to Nick’s hair.

Nick moaned into your pussy at the feeling, sending vibrations through your body. He took one of his hands from your hips to enter two fingers into your core. Not wasting any time, he began to quickly thrust them in and out, making sure to curl them just right. Nick managed to hit that spongey spot inside you every time, bringing your impending orgasm impossibly closer.

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, as your walls began to spasm around Nick’s fingers. “Fuck, fuck,” you panted, “ ‘m gonna cum, Nicky!” You cried out. He removed his mouth, continuing his assault with his fingers, “Cum for me baby, cum all over my tongue.” He reattached his lips to your clit, making sure to use just the right amount of pressure.

When the knot finally snapped, you were blinded with searing pleasure. You came all over Nick’s face with a scream of his name. Nick slowly worked you through the final waves of your orgasm, only pulling away when you became too sensitive. You lay there for a minute or two, completely blissed out.

Once you finally came to, you noticed you were in a hoodie and pressed against Nick’s chest. “Welcome back to reality, beautiful.” He gave you a cheesy smile. You blushed at his teasing tone. You felt your eyelids grow heavy, trying your hardest to keep them open. Nick placed a soft kiss on your head, “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You close your eyes, finding yourself falling asleep with a new feeling of confidence. Maybe that girl had the “perfect body,” but you had Nick and that was enough for you.

#nick moldenhauer #nick moldenhauer x reader #nick moldenhauer x chubby!reader #umich hockey x reader #umich hockey x chubby!reader #leawrites🍀

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saturnine-saturneight · 15 days ago

Text

Teeth

Dear Mr. Caradoc,

this is me emailing you so you have this in writing, just like you asked me to. I'm nervous to leave a paper trail, for obvious reasons, but I also trust that you aren't going to use this against me. On the other hand, I am grimly excited. Like this, nobody will be able to say that I didn't ask for help before it was too late, least of all you.

Which brings me to my point: please, for the love of God, help me. I've tried everything by now, dentists, doctors, family, friends, nobody can help me. They are all itching to send me to a therapist, or better yet a closed institution, and as fast as possible too. But I am telling you right now, if you call the police on me for a wellness check and I am locked away, my blood is on your hands.

With that out of the way: Here is what you didn't want to hear from me the other day at the coffee machine, properly and in writing.

It all started early one morning. I usually wake up around five these days, but I remember it being even earlier that day, I think around 3am or 4am. Did you know that we feel pain stronger at night than during the day? I looked it up. It peaks exactly at 3am. But even without looking that up, I could've told you, because the pain I felt that morning was something I'm never going to forget.

Have you ever gotten a root canal, Mr. Caradoc?

I did, two years ago. It was my lower molar, the first on the right side. I can still see the filling, I think, when I pull my lips back—well, I could, anyways. My dentist did a pretty good job all around, not just with the actual procedure, but also in explaining to me how it works. When a tooth is infected or inflamed down to the pulp, the very inside underneath enamel and dentin, what they will do is, they will bore a hole in the respective decaying tooth, and then hollow it out completely, removing everything within it that's alive, and then fill it with something dead and inert, with rubber and cement. And although it is a dead man walking from then on, surrounding tissue is able to keep such a tooth alive, as my dentist told me, almost indefinitely. He did an excellent job hollowing me out, but it was a bad day to find out that I don't properly respond to the anesthetic he used.

It was that same pain that I felt again that morning, at 3 or 4 in the pain hour, and that was what I was looking for in the mirror as I was standing there in the dim grey light and pulling my mouth open with a finger. A sign that my root canal had to be redone.

But what I saw instead was, and I know how difficult this is to believe: a tiny, tiny dark door, hollow, maybe more of an archway, smaller than the pin of a needle, carved right into the enamel of my tooth.

The first thing I did was of course to call my mom up in a panic. She had to spend twenty minutes calming me down before I'd stopped crying for long enough to take a picture of it, and then when I did and sent it to her, I could immediately hear the pity in her voice. She told me that it was a very normal thing to have nightmares like this during pregnancy, and that she had gone through the exact same thing when she was pregnant with me. I have to admit that I got very angry at her for it. I know what a nightmare is, I am not a child. I was wide awake. People all around me have taken on this patronizing air towards me ever since I've started showing, as if carrying a baby somehow negates everything I have accomplished and everything I am, and has turned me into some fragile stupid thing.

I hung up on her. I'm not proud of it. We haven't been on the best of terms anyways, and I'm sure this didn't make it better.

Four hours later, I stood on my dentist's doormat, practically banging at the door to be let in. I was overjoyed when he opened my mouth to inspect the molar and immediately agreed to give me a filling, but it only struck me why he'd told me to take the day off as I was inspecting the molar in the rear view mirror of my car, and all he had done was to fill in the archway, leaving the intricate carvings around it alone. And they were intricate now: It was as if somebody was miming pillars around the hole in my tooth. I stormed back into his office in distress, and found myself set up with a blanket and some hot tea in the waiting room as one of the dentist's assistants patted my knee, instead of just filling the damn structure in.

I went home. What else was I supposed to do?

The next day, the pillars had been carved.

It went on like this. First there came windows, rows upon rows of them, with ledges and flourishes. Then, the next tooth showed a hole. Then the next. Archways started to grow steps to lead up to them. Windows became larger, more opulent. And the pain—I never saw the actual carving happen, not even once, but I felt it. I felt every single chip, every last line in them.

I saw dentist after dentist, convinced family to look into my mouth, friends, acquaintances, coworkers, even my boss, but there was always that same goddamned look of pity. The woman is going crazy, their faces seemed to scream, as they even stopped being able to see holes at all. But I am not crazy. This is not phantom pain. I know what is happening to me, and I need it to stop. I am being made a home for something, and I want it out.

My parents have asked me to move back in with them. I will be packing my bags next week, but I'm afraid that they aren't planning to help me with the pregnancy. If my suspicions are true, these bags will be on the floor of a mental hospital very soon.

I am asking you for your help because you have always been on my side, even back when I was fighting for accommodations for my morning sickness. I don't know who else is left to ask. I also don't know what I expect you to do about this anymore, but I need it to be something.

My jaw has started hurting.

Please.

Yours,

Kalinka Czajkowska

If you liked this, don't miss the continuation in the next chapter of Particle Decay! Ms. Czajkowska isn't going down without a fight.

Particle Decay taglist:

@gioiaalbanoart @noblebs @wyked-ao3

@cowboybrunch @writingrosesonneptune @marlowethelibrarian @cometkov

#warnings for: forced institutionalisation / dentists / tooth horror / body horror #heres my spooktober story :)#project: particle decay

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aechii · 1 year ago

Note

can you write something about like trent fucking up real bad and hes like groveling real hard but shes hesitant to take him back but he’ll do anything

₍⁠₍ SECOND CHANCE ₎⁠₎

A/N ?! this has been rotting in my inbox for weeks, to the anon who requested this, i am very sorry. enjoy this iggggg

trent might as well be faceless, a blurred, black rubbed-out face, standing in front of [y/n] with potent regret. it makes the air stink, the girl can barely stand being in his presence, but he had begged her to let them talk it out, settle any misunderstandings that they 'both definitely have'. [y/n] had wanted to snap back, say that she understood him loud and clear, and what she had seen was displayed right before her like she was meant to see it, but she instead, wants to see what bullshit he comes up with now.

he stands there, slumped and looking as if he was the one that was the victim, and all [y/n] can do is glare, expectant for whatever ignorant explanation was going to come.

"so?"

he drags a hand down his face, looks at her with his eyebrows slanted downwards and eyes pleading, and it amplifies the ever-growing detest that festers in her flesh. she looks away, and trent immediately protests.

"[y/n], baby, look at me."

"are you gonna fucking speak or what, trent?" she sees how her tone, acrid and completely seething, strikes him like a baseball bat to the head, but she remains flippant to it. what she feels is unparalleled.

"okay- look, it's not what it looks like?"

"bullshit. that's what you lot always fucking say. what is then? you didn't invite her to your game, and people didn't take pictures of you hugging her like she's your girl?"

trent doesn't say anything, he can't because he knows there's no discrepancy to what [y/n] saw.

"right. says a lot about you, doesn't it? telling me you love me but the second we have an argument, you storm out and take a random chick to a home game." it sickens her to say it, both know that matches based on their home ground is a sentiment for them, surrounded by their people, on their grass. the cherry to the cake was that they had won the match, exceedingly.

"i'm sorry, [y/n], i really am. i just- i panicked, alright-"

"you fucking panicked?" the cackle that stabs the hostile bedroom startles trent, and he flinches as he watches her agitatedly.

"you're bullshitting out of your ass trent. i don't even know why i'm standing here listening to you." she needs to leave, can't stand the man trying to make her see eye to eye as if he what he did was justified. she makes her way to the door, but a hand pulls her back and she immediately slaps it away. his touch burns, and not in the way it used to.

"[y/n], i said i'm sorry. please, forgive me, i'm begging you."

"don't tell me what to do," her voice is hard, rooted in so much anger that she's surprised she can let even a word out.

trent, forever persistent, begs more, "let us talk things out like adults, alright? i can't lose you like this. i'll do anything, i promise."

nothing but disbelief strikes her dumb. she can't process the fact that trent is no longer recognisable, so stupid and so incompetent to realise that his own actions had pushed her away.

she gives him one glance over, then gives him a plastic smile, "do one thing for me then, trent."

the way hope shines in his eyes is, quite frankly, pathetic, and it only fuels her to burn it more. he doesn't deserve happiness after this, she thinks, and he especially doesn't deserve anything from her.

"leave me the fuck alone. you're dead to me."

#work de aechii 🫧#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander x you #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold angst #trent alexander arnold x you

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findingnemosworld · 1 year ago

Text

𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 - 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐬𝐳𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐳𝐥𝐚𝐢

• 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐦𝐞

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐦.

( sweet angel baby, you can’t convince me otherwise )

His gaze trails her every move as she effortlessly walks from the oven back to the counter with a tray of delicious and freshly baked cookies that she made, and for a moment he recalls spending time with her after school in her old home while her parents were at work, he'd sit on the counter while she baked and decorated cookies for her mother's bakery, this time however she was decorating them for her own bakery. " Those look delicious " he states, sneakily reaching his hand to take one before he felt a sharp sting which had him pouting playfully, " That's not fair baba "

" I have another batch te idióta " She giggles, carefully placing the still hot cookies onto the decorating sheet before moving across to grab the piping bag. " This for tomorrow's sale "

" They look more delicious than the other ones " He says with a childlike tone before smiling, " Yet again it doesn't surprise me, anything you make is delicious "

She wasn't sure if it was the heat or the fact that he was standing at such close proximity to her, yet his words were enough to send a surge of warmth across her cheeks, she looks away and chuckles. " I am not giving you one of these cookies " she retorts.

" Worth a shot " He smirks before allowing his gaze to wander across her choice of clothing which admittedly, had been the root cause for every unholy thought that consumed his mind in that moment, some loose strands had fallen out and instinctively, he reached his hand to push them back, the mere action caused her to look up and meet his gaze. " Annyira gyönyörű vagy " he whispers, his thumb caressing the apple of cheek while his gaze travelled down to her lips then back up to her eyes, silently asking for her permission.

" Dominik " She whispers his name with a shaky breath.

He leans closer, only a silver of space left between them. " Tell me to stop, right now and I will " he whispers against her lips, " Because if we cross the line right now, I'm never going to turn back, if we do this, you're mine baba "

Her slender digits wrap around the chain he wore, tugging him to close the distance between them, their lips had molded together so perfectly as if they'd been aching to finally meet, exchanging the ever growing longing they felt for one another; he snakes his arm around her waist to hoist her up on the counter while their lips continued to converse, muffled soft sounds escaping from either one. " Dominik " she whines against his lips, he tugs her shorts down followed by her panties before he pulled back to meet her dazed gaze, his pupils were blown, his lips swollen with a soft smile. " Please " she pleads with a small voice.

" I've waited so long for this " He states, kneeling down to come face to face with her slick pussy which glistened with the obvious arousal she was feeling which elicited a chuckle from him, " Baba " he groans before adding, " I haven't even touched you yet " he murmurs, teasing her by peppering kisses across her inner thighs.

She whines in response, her hands gripping the edges of the counter. " I've touched myself, thinking of you, of how you'd fuck me " she admits with a small voice.

The confession elicited a growl from him, " Why didn't you ever tell me when you called? " he wonders before darting his tongue then flattening it against her slick pussy inciting a loud borderline obscene moan from her, " Why didn't you ever call me when you felt bothered? I can count so many times that I was almost caught by my teammates cause all I could think about was fucking you " he groans before slipping his tongue inside of her pussy, the groan deepens when her digits gripped his hair.

" Fuck Dominik " She cried, throwing her head back; her chest heaving ponderous breaths while he continued to dart his tongue in and out of her pussy while his thumb rubbed featherlight circles against her clit. " Oh Fuck, right there ... just like that " she bites down on her bottom lip.

His gaze darts up to look at her, the sight was what he could truly describe as a masterpiece, her features contorted with pure euphoria while her lips parted, releasing obscene sounds that he wishes he can save inside of his mind for a lifetime, his thumb continued to rub her clit; only this time much more harder than earlier which stimulated her further towards her orgasm, the knot in her lower abdomen exploded and he was struck by a taste that resembled a kind of honey he might as well grow addicted to.

" Fuck, I'm cumming, don't stop " She cried, her eyelids tightly shut with tears brimming from the corners. " Shit " she gasps, " Oh yes, yes ... "

He laps up every single drop before standing back up with a satisfied grin, " Finom, ahogy elképzeltem "

She tugs him close by his chain to give him a kiss, both of them moaning at the faint taste which lingered on his lips, she murmurs in between their kisses " What’s it going to be? the kitchen or the bedroom? "

He smirks against her lips, " With the time I have baba, I’m going to fuck you in every corner of this house " his tongue darts and swipes her bottom lip to gain access to her mouth, " And by the end of the night, there’s no going back "

" Is that so? " She said with a challenging tone.

" You bet it is " He whispers.

Her slender digits trail a line across his abdomen which incited a hiss that transformed into a moan when her hand cupped his prominent erection peeking through his sweatpants, " How long have you been dreaming about this? " She asks, gasping when his lips trailed a line of featherlight kisses across her neck and jawline.

" Too long " He moans upon feeling her hand slipping past his sweatpants and boxers to come in direct contact with his cock, " That red dress you wore on your seventeenth birthday, was the subject of many of my dreams, very unholy dreams "

She lowers his sweatpants followed by his boxers to free his cock, the cool air in the kitchen elicited yet another strangled moan from him, " Tell me then ... tell me about one of those dreams " she whispers with a sweet smile before pulling back to remove the t-shirt she was wearing.

His gaze darts down to her breasts, and instinctively he licked his lips at the sight of her nipples hardening from the chill air. " I ... " he opens then closes his mouth, his throat suddenly feeling dry. " How about I show you? " he suggests with a teasing smile.

" Ok " She breathes out, mirroring his smile.

He grabs the piping bag full of pink icing, and pushes a few dollops on top of her breasts before placing the bag next to them and dipping down to lick the icing off of her breasts in a leisure pace which elicited soft moans from her lips, " Dominik " she gasps. " Fuck, yes "

" Every time I watched you bake, I wanted nothing more than to put you up on the counter " He chuckles in between darting his tongue around her nipples, " And pour every icing bag you had on top of you because, of all the sweet treats you bake ... " he stands back to capture her lips in a sweet and gentle kiss, " You're the sweetest treat I've ever seen baba "

" What else? " She manages to ask through shaky breaths as he slots himself between her bare legs, the length of his cock poking her inner thigh.

" On your eighteenth birthday " He said with a shy smile, his cheeks burning red. " You wore that red dress which had those knots on your shoulders and the way it hugged your perfect body, I wanted nothing more than to take you out of that party and back to my house so that I can spend my time worshipping you the way you deserve to be worshipped "

Her eyes widened and a giggle slipped past her lips, " Is that why you were sending death threats with your eyes to Andras? "

Andras was a mutual childhood friend who didn't keep his affinity towards her a secret, and to say Dominik disliked him would be a huge understatement, " I wanted to kill him, the way he spoke about you like you were some object, made me sick! and what made it worse was the way you smiled at him, it gave him the illusion that you liked him and honestly " he rests his forehead against hers, " I was jealous, very jealous ... I was always jealous of the people you met when you worked in the café, because they got to see you more than I did, I was jealous of the people you smiled at, strangers or not, I was jealous because I wanted your smiles to be mine, I wanted to be the only one that can hold you, I wanted to be the only person that can show you what true love is, before you were heartbroken by that idiot "

Her heart softened at his confession, " Why didn't you ever tell me? " she wondered.

He finds his lips wandering across her cheek and jaw before responding, " I was scared, that I'd lose you, that maybe if things went wrong, we'd never be friends again and I would hate that because ... " he grabs her hand, placing it directly over his heart. " You are my heart baba "

With a tearful smile, she pressed her lips onto his for a brief moment before she pulled back and whispered, " You're still over dressed " she states with a teasing smile.

He chuckles, swiftly removing his shirt and throwing it next to her t-shirt before cradling her face in his hands to press a few kisses on her lips, " Spread those legs open baba " he commands with a soft voice.

She complied and without much of a warning, felt his cock thrusting ever so gently into her walls eliciting a gasp from the two of them, " I ... Fuck, that feels so good " she whines.

He pecks her lips, " Feels better than what I imagined " he growls before setting a leisure pace in which he began to thrust in and out of her pussy while his arm wrapped securely around her waist. " You feel so good wrapped around my cock like that " he moans, " It's like you were made for me "

Strangled whines escaped her parted lips, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, clinging onto him while he continued to thrust in and out of her pussy, this time he tilted their position then upped the pace which had hit her exactly where she needed the most, her vision blurred while the knot in her lower abdomen formed once again. " Oh Fuck, right there ... yes right there " she cried.

" I'm not letting you go " He tilts her head to face him then captures her lips in a gentle kiss. " You're all mine baba, every single part of you is mine "

" Yes ... Yes " She nods before a gasp escapes her lips. " I'm ... " she bites down on her lip, " I think I'm going to cum again "

" Yeah " He cooed, pressing kisses on her neck, " I can feel it, you're squeezing my cock baba, come on ... I know you can do it, make a mess all over my cock baba "

His thrusts were sloppy just as she felt the euphoric sensation wash over her, " Fuck ... don't stop, don't stop. Oh Fuck yes " she cried, arching her back off of the counter.

" That's it baba, such a good girl " He cooed, thrusting a few times before he pulled his cock out and smirked, " You're going to be a good girl and clean up this mess? "

She mirrored his grin, hopping off the counter to kneel down in front of him, she wrapped her hand around his cock while wrapping her lips around the tip to take as much of him as she can, he throws his head back, his lips parting as a content sigh escapes from them. " Ah Fuck yes, Vedd mindezt abba az édes szádba "

The sensation of her mouth coupled with her tongue darting across every prominent vein sent his mind into a frenzy, countless nights he lied awake, dreaming of this moment, of having the one girl that consumed his every waking and sleeping thought right now was more perfect than he could possibly imagine, " That's a good girl, yes ... you're taking my cock so well, told you " he chuckles, caressing her hair. " You were made for me "

Her gaze darts up to meet him, eyes brimming with tears, pupils blown out with the intense pleasure they both felt in that moment, she darts her tongue over the slit which caused his cock to twitch inside of her mouth, the tip hitting the back of her throat which was then followed by him spilling ropes of cum straight down in a fit of labored breaths and moans, " Take all of it baba, you're such a good girl, take it all "

She laps every drop before pulling back, a trail of spit connecting her mouth to the tip. " Was that better than what you imagined? " she asks with a giggle.

" So much better " He chuckles, hoisting her back up in his arms to finally say what was on his mind. " Run away with me "

" What? " She whispers with wide eyes.

" I'm serious, you can open your own café in Liverpool, I can help you and in this way you can expand more while we can spend our free time together " He said with a pleading gaze, " Baba, I love you more than I can possibly describe, please think about it "

The fleeting thought of moving had crossed her mind more than once, and now - with him looking at her the way he did, with pleading eyes had made her smile and say, " I'll think about it ... but right now, you promised a second round in my bedroom "

He grins, " I thought you'd never ask "

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