#i do not really know how engineering works pls forgive me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

osarina · 22 days

Text

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

403 notes · View notes

yoimix · 3 years

Text

haikyuu!! as types of best friends.

➼ ft. hinata, sugawara, bokuto, osamu+atsumu.

➼ playlist. talk too much - coin, higher - banks, romanticism - mrs green apple, me and my friends - james vincent mcmorrow

➼ a/n. these have light bff2l undertones hhn i love that trope, pls forgive me. </3 + there’s some timeskip spoilers for atsumu & osamu’s part.

❀ hinata :-

i wish the childhood best friends trope a very good evening.

no one’s better than hinata at making friends, even if you met after he spiked a ball into your face. you’re childhood best friends too !! so imagine being a child and having to pick up this goofball by the scruff, who has the audacity to ask you to play with him after giving you a scratched up forehead and teary eyes from a ball to the face. but, like, you were the one who said yes so it’s on you :-)

sometimes you bicker but it’s ok bc he would literally go to the ends of the earth for you if you asked. no kidding. he hates sitting still anyway so he’ll just gravitate towards where you are like you’re the sun. also gets you taiyaki in the evenings but climbs in through your window instead of using the front door like a normal person. (he has too much energy </3) if you hear someone yelling your name outside your window and ranting about volleyball games, you know who it is.

ok when he makes you mad with his bullheadedness, you'll be complaining with kageyama (who agrees vehemently) and hinata gets pissy bc you get along a little too well when you're throwing insults about him. (he's not jealous, no, of course not.) but.. how long can you stay mad at this sunshine child anyway?? you'll be pretending you never got mad at all within a few hours and go back to joking around.

he gets distracted if you're watching a match sometimes (bokuto somehow got it into his head that he needs to show off in front of you) so you got banned from watching. he overcomes it later on so you can cheer him on in his jersey too <3

gives you ALL his attention when you talk or even complain about your life. he reacts a lot to whatever you have to say so you have to pretend there aren’t people behind you glaring at hinata for having the same decibel sound level as a jet engine.

you have matching keychains you bought at a local fair !!! (you got a pochacco one for hinata but it’s super worn out by now so he keeps it in his wallet instead.)

he has not won a single multiplayer video game against you (*cough cough* mario kart *cough*) and you don’t even have to be good at it. if you call him a loser, he’ll lose even harder. gets unnecessarily mad at just dance and you have to calm him down.

... you’ve probably kissed bc the two of you (mostly him) were too eager for a first kiss and you got fed up with his pubescent ramblings and ended up kissing him. and then had an early mid-life crisis bc you guys are definitely just friends. (unless.. unless he doesn’t think that way.. surprise surprise 😳) also he's.. kind of bad for make out practice... it’s like kissing a month old puppy.. sorry :/. if you happen to make a lot of offhand comments and tease him about his kissing skills, he WILL turn tomato red and argue in gibberish. only do that in private bc the rest of the world thinks you’re sickeningly cute together >:(

overall, your best friend is a ball of sunshine (who occasionally pisses you off) and your #1 motivation to get out of bed. it's mostly bc he's somehow there to get you out of bed though you've repeatedly told him to not climb in through your window. at least the sun is smiling upon you every day <3

❀ sugawara :-

being best friends with him is such a secure relation !!

he’s your soft place to fall but also would provide gentle (not so gentle) reminders for your wellbeing (STUDY!!! WATER!!!! BREAKFAST!!). doesn’t get mad when you say you skipped breakfast but gives you this look of disappointment which is 100x more effective. still gets a granola bar for you though. also he literally carries bandaids for u and he’s been doing that since second grade bc you fell off the swing ONCE. you know, just in case. if you’re an accident-prone hazard to society, you’re in luck.

BEST HUGS especially if you had a rough day and want to sob into his shoulder. if u damage his $85 hoodie tho, he will make u do his laundry and also buy snacks for him. but like he is so soft (his skin is SUPER soft bc he actually follows a skincare routine now) and cuddly like a teddy bear, it's a small price to pay for salvation.

he will hype you up for anything you do !!!! new outfit? offers to be your personal photographer. scored an A+? will treat u to your fav ice-cream. new job? will tell everyone just how proud he is.

ALWAYS shares the last bite with you and smiles to himself when you eat it so contented. also!!! hanging out at cafes and taking cute pictures is a must <3 even though you’re not dating, you’ll have photos together that make you look a real couple which ensue teasing from daichi and asahi and admiration/jealousy from noya and tanaka. also he gets weirdly protective of you around the team (i’m looking at the moron quartet) and you have to pull the “koushi you’re not my mom” card. it really strikes a chord with him when you say that out loud.

will egg your ex's house with you if you say the word. somehow gets more pissed than you at your ex (if they're a shitty one). it's kind of scary when he's mad too so.... good luck calming him down. he's also really good at sarcastic trash talk so if you happen to meet your ex on the street... send prayers for their self-esteem.

you don't really fight often but if you happen to disagree, he'll go about it in a pretty mature way and talk it out. if you pick a fight on purpose, he'll catch on to it and either tickle you (excessively) or flick your forehead as punishment for trying to rile him up. it’s impossible to prank him!!!!! it’s like he’s got a sixth sense or something so you might as well give up on anything of the sort.

you said you want to get a dog (or cat) with him in the near future and he somehow equated that to having children. turned bright red and started saying it’s too soon to be thinking of that while you had daichi stop you from smacking some sense into your overly imaginative best friend. (i mean, you do need to live together if you want to raise a pet sooo)

his lockscreen is a picture of the two of you so a lot of people who try to hit on him take the hint quick. he says it’s unintentional but you know he can be terribly scheming at times. if you say something like “why don’t you date me for real, coward” he will malfunction and not be able to look you in the eye. (“don’t joke around, y/n” “what if i’m not” “it kind of feels illegal to date you” “what do you mean?!💢”)

anyway you are one lucky mf if you have sugawara koushi as your best friend even if there are both ups and downs (mostly ups). having someone care for you so blatantly certainly makes the question of romance arise but you’re content with the most loving best friend ever.

❀ bokuto :-

you guys are the “two best friends in a room, we might kiss” “yes we will” “what” type of best friends PLS

it doesn’t matter what stage of life you met him, it’ll feel like you’ve been best friends since the beginning of time.

it’s just so easy to make friends with this airhead and by god’s gift, you cannot physically get annoyed at this man. sometimes his friends will complain about him being forgetful or blunt but you’re just there like. yeah. that’s bokuto. love him for it. (you seem to have a lot of patience.)

he probably gets into trouble with authority unwittingly, so save your weekends to sweet talk his way out after accidentally implying the coach has a weak mindset. afterwards, you go get ice cream or something and hang out at the dog park to forget it happened. (the amount of second hand embarrassment bokuto has given you though... you need some hard drugs to forget all of it.)

you probably make a lot of friends through him in high school/college but at the end of the day, it’s just you and him and sometimes akaashi making sure you guys are alive. if you guys are alone together on a friday night, you’ll still be having fun!! very often, it takes shape as karaoke :-) bokuto thinks he’s really great at rapping for some reason (he’s not) so cue you screaming the lyrics in an attempt to ruin your part of the song equally. also he always sets the key wrong??? although you sing the same songs each time?? sometimes he picks a song neither of you have ever heard and the both of you try to guess the melody. he’s terrible at it but at least he’s funny. there’s not a single song he hasn’t had a voice crack in.

if you go clubbing/partying with him, get prepared to be introduced as the friend of “the guy who did four keg stands in a row before proceeding to do a cartwheel unprompted and somehow not throw up”. is on first name basis with the bartenders/hosts and gets you free drinks. also gets hit on often but is oblivious unless they’re being very straightforward. if he’s not into them... you have to pull the s/o card and save his ass. oh also he barks at anyone that gets near your drink.

will always exaggerate when introducing you to new people. “y/n and i met when i saved them from drowning a terrible death.” “it was the children’s pool and you were the one that was screaming.” “and then y/n didn’t really thank me but it’s not like heroes need thanks to do the right thing.” “kou, i will push you into a pool right now, let’s see how well you swim.” (he learned swimming to impress you so joke’s on you.)

he likes to watch you do stuff at the end of the day, so if you see him go o_o at you doing homework, you can just put your earphones on and focus on your work. even if he’s making.. a strangely.. adorable expression. also LOVES to listen to you talk about your day when he’s tired, he says it helps him sleep better (so expect a lot of nighttime calls). moreover, if you say you had a bad dream, he’ll comfort you with his ridiculously confident tone of voice (unless the dream was about something bad happening to him, then he’ll freak out and you’ll have to comfort him instead </3)

ok one thing that’s annoying about him is that he probably leaves food crumbs over your stuff like laptop, bed sheet, etc. you clean it up but bokuto.. is a bit... distracted to notice the mess he’s making. it’s usually pretty difficult to get him to be more aware, but like your glare is enough to make him at least try to be careful from the next time. (either that or he’s become sensitive to your change in mood/emotions bc you know... you’re best friends after all.)

i’m not gonna lie, he probably catches feelings for you at some point. he wants to, like, keep it lowkey bc akaashi told him to take your feelings into consideration too but?? it’s so hard?? you’re literally so pretty?? everything you say is like music to him??? he reacts reflexively to all the firecracker feelings u give him. he probably says he likes you all the time but you dismiss it with “as a friend right :-)”. there’s no climbing up from that one, sorry bokuto.

to summarize, if a moody golden retriever was your human best friend.exe

❀ miya twins :-

they feel like a set. it would be strange to have one of the twins as a bff and not have the other one around whoops 🤷‍♀️

either you and osamu bully atsumu in your free time, or you and atsumu annoy osamu for fun (or both) <3. it’s always a good idea to team up with osamu and prank atsumu for fun btw. (put wasabi in his breakfast pancakes and you’ll get a very pissed off but weirdly cute tsumtsum. you can blame it on osamu if you don’t want to face his wrath.) your alternative is to embarrass osamu in front of strangers with atsumu, have fun with that. (second hand embarrassment also works.)

when you were younger, you pretended to not be able to distinguish the twins bc it would visibly rile atsumu up and then you’d go “ok you’re atsumu”... which would further rile him up. osamu got used to your shenanigans though it ticked him off the first time too LOL. call them the wrong name on purpose and they’ll start a riot; be careful when you’re playing with fire pls.

you guys played a lot of knight and prince/princess/royal when you were a kid and atsumu would always try to make osamu the evil dragon holding you captive. in the end, you were somehow the knight, osamu the prince to be rescued and atsumu the big, bad dragon. (it’s kind of funny in hindsight. your parents have photographs of the three of you fighting like no tomorrow.) also speaking of which, your parents are also friends and have bets on which twin you’ll marry (or if you will at all). it’s tearing your parents’ friendship apart.

these two have DEFINITELY fought over whose jersey number you’re going to wear to the games ( “oi, ‘samu, stop brainwashing my best friend into wearing your stupid double digit number” “you know i’m the best friend, ‘tsumu. they clearly like me better over yer ratty ass.” “what did ya say?!?!? if anything, you’re the one that looks like ratatouille.”) you wore kita's jersey number to games.

imagine sunday picnics with the boys !!! by that, i specifically mean osamu and his perfect bento boxes <3 sometimes the two of you will cook together before your outings while a sulking atsumu stands outside bc you didn’t let him. (let him in, you monsters.) he says he can cook too but the last time the twins’ bickering almost burnt the whole kitchen down. the picnics continue well into adulthood and you get to diss your boss to the twins who will always support your rants. (sometimes atsumu will tell you it’s your fault but you can smack him off. we only need supportive besties here 🙄)

if someone hurts u.... they’re going to need divine intervention to be safe... you have two well-built, physically adept best friends ready to beat the shit out of anyone who deliberately breaks ur heart.

when the twins get into a physical fight...... oh boy. it kinda pisses you off that they’re spewing profanity at each other and you’re the one getting glares. but at the same time, you don’t really want to step into a fight that has nothing to do with you. people should solve their interpersonal issues on their own. they have never fought over you, this isn’t twilight <3

but the question did come up once on which twin you like better; it’s not something to seriously fight over though. if you chose osamu, atsumu will complain for six days straight and you’ll start to regret ever answering the question. if you say atsumu, osamu won’t feed you his onigiri anymore for a few days which is just as bad. the safest choice is to say neither bc it will both be funny and you won’t suffer too many consequences. if you say you love the both of them for being your best friends all this time and go all mushy, there’s a slight chance they’ll go soft too. god help you from the bone crushing hug you’re about to receive 🙏

you make sure to not miss any of atsumu’s official games !! sometimes he’ll wave at you and make the reporters give you hell bc he’s a little shit. just push osamu to them and run away if it gets that bad. (he gets free advertising for his shop, he should be grateful.)

osamu is super good at cheering you up!!! whether it’s with food or with pleasant talk, you’ll be feeling much better with a full stomach and a calmer state of mind. as for atsumu, he’s really good at you cheering you up by distracting you. he’ll talk about his team or this new serve he learnt and the world will seem a lot brighter bc he seems so happy about it. whichever twin you go to, it’s win-win.

in return, the twins take up a good chunk of your time. sometimes atsumu will crash at your place after a game though you’ve told him to not lead the damn reporters here. osamu makes you taste test his experimental onigiri... which are not always good..... no seriously, why’d he put honey and tuna in there ?? but still, your life is ridiculously colorful with them around.

anyway, what can i say except what’s better than one best friend?? two best friends !!!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #bokuto x reader #sugawara x reader #hinata x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #atsumu #osamu #bokuto #sugawara #hinata #rosemi.hcs #kind of all over the place but it's about the vibes thank you #feel free to correct any typos i made im about to pass out gn ;-;

160 notes · View notes

godzillerd · 3 years

Text

Resident Evil 8 AU Pt 2: Parenthood Boogaloo??

Former Post Here

To summarize: Ethan takes deal. Miranda goes boom. Village goes boom. Chris is like this is serious. Heisenberg is like no baby for me pls. Ethan is like yeah no absolutely no baby for him pls. Chris is like sorry but baby for him. Didn’t even get a baby shower. Fucking brutal. Hate this place.

RIP pls forgive this obnoxiously long post that will never become a cohesive fic.

Why am I like this.

My life is a sea of regrets.

Seriously though forgive how all over the place this is - it is literally me vomiting thoughts for sport.

Immediately after leaving the village (what was left of it) Heisenberg headed west with Rose.

As expected, it took a matter of hours for the Duke to show up bearing gifts. Not much, mind you, but enough.

He even allowed Heisenberg to start running a tab, despite quibbling that it was a bad business practice.

For the first year, they were completely off the grid with zero contact with the rest of the world, usually living in ramshackle hunting cabins in the forests of whatever country they happened to be in at the time. Hungary, Austria, Slovenia, and eventually Switzerland.

Not requiring food or water himself, caring for Rose was relatively easy with some help from Duke. Heisenberg became an old hand at building fires out of nothing.

The whole baby thing did not come naturally to him. In fact, it took over six months for Heisenberg to have any kind of clue as to why the potato might be screaming this time.

He came very close to just killing it and fending for himself, but after seeing what Rose did to Miranda... it was enough to make anyone hesitant.

Around eight months in, Duke showed up with a new present: A cell phone. And a secure number. And a delicate observation that Ethan Winters might actually kill Heisenberg if he didn’t call soon.

Calls with Ethan were an infrequent thing. Ethan passed along pertinent information, but being under heavy monitoring, he didn’t have a lot of private time.

Heisenberg had less of an excuse, and just genuinely didn’t like Ethan.

Despite being told about it specifically, Heisenberg missed Rose’s first and second birthdays. She didn’t seem to mind. Ethan did.

Around then, it became obvious that living in the woods, completely cut off from humanity, wasn’t going to work out well for a growing child.

Did you know electromagnetic energy can really fuck up a bank machine?

Heisenberg (well, Duke) found a reasonable, small cottage on the outskirts of a village in the south of France. He put together a decent little business selling metalwork crafts that were simple (for him) to build, but could sell for high profit. Horses were a bit of a specialty.

Became the local backwoods crazy rural uncle who can fix anything using anything.

Ethan managed to pull enough strings to buy himself a four hour window while in France for unrelated business to visit Rose for the first time just before she turned three.

They agreed to meet in a town about an hour south as Ethan had ‘security concerns’.

ie. He and Chris both doubted Heisenberg’s ability to blend into a crowd.

To prove a point because he’s a petty bitch, Heisenberg walked Rose past Ethan five times while Ethan was waiting around for them. Ethan only noticed them when Heisenberg said his name.

Shaving, showering, a haircut, and new clothes can do a lot for a man.

Rose did not recognize Ethan and was extremely reluctant to speak to him at all. Eventually, she was coaxed into introducing herself as “Rosalie-Elise”. For reasons beyond Heisenberg’s comprehension, this seemed to have a profound emotional effect on Ethan.

Aside from occasional visits from Ethan (usually every year or two) it was mostly Heisenberg and Rose against the world.

Duke did roll through, though less frequently than when they were actively fleeing the village. He was incredibly fond of Rose, after all.

Until Rose turned three, Heisenberg largely saw her as a nuisance - something he was obligated to keep alive for his own sake.

When she was three, and shortly after they settled in the French House, Rose began picking up on Heisenberg’s mannerisms. Speaking like him, sitting like him, trying to mimic everything he did on a smaller scale...

Overnight she went from a nuisance to the apple of his goddamn eye.

Heisenberg rarely called Rose by her name unless it was serious. More often than not, she’s ‘Kid’ or ‘Blondie’

By the time she started school, Rose could dismantle, repair, and reassemble most standard engines (with a bit of help). She was also shaping up to be a mean little welder.

She also picked up a bad habit of swearing (fortunately, only in English)

Rose was raised speaking French almost exclusively, and her English was heavily accented. Heisenberg learned it with great difficulty, but became fluent by speaking only French for years.

Despite being happier by himself, cut off from other people, Heisenberg deliberately put in the effort to appear as ‘normal’ as possible.

He never claimed to be Rose’s father - to her or to anyone else. Instead, he called himself her crazy uncle and left the gossip-mongers to come up with a story about her parents.

Ethan was mockingly referred to as ‘Brother’ every time he called or visited, though.

When Rose was six, Heisenberg gave her a watered-down version of what happened in the village.

Watered down for him, at least.

Rose had nightmares for six months.

In the midst of that fun time, Ethan gave them a warning that the BSAA was starting to suspect something, so they up and disappeared in one night.

This pattern continued for years, destroying any chance of Rose having a ‘normal’ childhood.

Despite that, she developed a startlingly good mindset about things. Influenced by Heisenberg, Rose grew up with a tendency towards independence and isolation, with a hell of a lot of self-confidence and pride to boot. She never particularly enjoyed being around other children, even when she had the opportunity. She preferred staying close to Heisenberg whether it was necessary or not.

Being an obnoxiously touch-motivated brat, Rose spent most of her childhood hanging off his neck, or flopped over his shoulders, or literally hugging him while he was juggling hot metal. Heisenberg gave up caring when she was about four and by the time she was five he didn’t really notice it at all. He often sprawled on the couch just so the kid could nap on him and catch up on sleep.

After learning the truth about the village, Rose never did sleep particularly well at night - especially not alone in her room. Most nights, Heisenberg would sit next to her bed until she fell asleep. Sometimes even all night.

Again, likely influenced by Heisenberg, Rose grew to dislike Ethan as time wore on. Despite her solid relationship with Heisenberg, most of their arguments were about Rose seeing Ethan.

Heisenberg understood that their safety relied on Ethan being on good terms with both of them. Rose “didn’t give a fuck”

They reached a compromise eventually that Ethan was only ever promised one hour with Rose. If she wanted to leave after that, it was her choice. Similarly, Heisenberg let her set the boundaries about hugs and calling Ethan her father.

Needless to say, Ethan stopped getting hugs by the time Rose was ten, and he was never called her dad.

On the other side of things, Rose adored the Duke just as much as he adored her. Whenever Duke was in their neck of the woods, he made a special point to track them down in order to give Rose extravagant gifts.

Puberty was a hell of a time.

A hell of a time

Rose manifested a massive amount of power in the span of six months when she was thirteen. Around the same time she discovered her love of girls, teenage rebellion, and sticking it to the man.

During one rip-roaring fight when she was fourteen, Rose sent Heisenberg through not one, nor two, nor even three walls. She sent him through five.

Somehow, that incident was enough to curb the rising tide of teenage hormones and got them both back on track.

Heisenberg always struggled with knowing how much or how little to tell Rose about their predicament. On one hand, Ethan hated the idea and thought it would destroy her entire childhood. On the other hand, Heisenberg disliked the idea of lying to the kid.

Eventually, circumstances were such that there was no choice but to tell Rose everything in order to stay safe. By the time she was twelve, she had a pretty good idea about everything that had happened in the past.

Mostly because Ethan assumed he wouldn’t do it, Heisenberg also told her all about himself.

Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly, after so many years) it didn’t change much. She tried to use it as ammunition during a few teenage tantrums, but when she realized it didn’t phase him, it was never really brought up again.

#Is this chronological #What is chronological #RE8 #RE8 AU #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil 8 AU #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil Village AU #re8 heisenberg #Re8 Alternate Ending #re8 fanfiction #Re8 Rose #karl heisenberg #Rosemary Winters #re8 headcanons #re8 the duke #re8 ethan winters #Ethan Winters

70 notes · View notes

demxters · 4 years

Text

Temporary Love

ch. 2- a change of heart

kook!jj maybank x reader au

summary: jj kicks his plan to make amends into action while you try to avoid him as much as possible...

word count: 4.2k

warnings: none? (lemme know if i missed anything)

series masterlist ✰ add yourself to the taglist!

this is dedicated to my loves @infernoem14 and @thesewordsareallihavetogive

a/n: it’s been so long since the last update, i’m so sorry. but hey i got this out so i’m glad. feedback is always appreciated pls let me know what you think! this is kinda a filler but i promise the next part is gonna kick things off...

***

Of all the things Pope Heyward was anticipating to happen at work, finding JJ Maybank waiting for him outside his Pop’s shop was the last thing he was expecting. The blond haired boy was leaning against the wall in usual JJ fashion with his vape pen between his lips. Pope tries to dismiss the boy and quickly walks past him when a distant ‘Hey!’ stops him in his tracks.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

With a sigh, Pope reluctantly turns around to meet the gaze of the boy he once called his best friend. His heart clenches for a second, remembering the day JJ moved. Y/N cried all night as Pope and John B held her. Despite moving to Figure Eight, Pope (similar to John B and Y/N) had no resentment against him up until the incident that tore them apart.

“Pope?” JJ asks again, noticing the far off look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” the boy mumbles. “Yeah, sorry. Sure.”

JJ lets out a breath of relief. After finally disassociating himself with Rafe, Topper, and Kelce, the only thing that JJ could think about was you and the other pogues. He couldn’t believe how stupid he was to let that all go. How stupid he was to let you go. Which is why he devised a plan. A plan to win back you, Pope, and John B’s friendship back. “Do you guys still do those fishing trips out on the marsh?”

For the second time that day, JJ Maybank caught Pope off guard. Pope’s palms began to sweat as he debated whether or not he should lie to the boy. The logical side of him was thinking, What if this was all a prank? He lets him know and then the kooks sabotage them. But on the other hand, Pope had a feeling that maybe JJ was being genuine. After what you had told him the night after the kegger, he had a feeling that this had something to do with you. And as much as he hated to admit it, Pope really did miss his ex best friend. Making up his mind, Pope responds, “Yeah, we do. We’re going on another one tomorrow if you want to come. The Chateau, at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”

A huge grin grows on JJ’s face at his words. “Thanks Pope.” Pope only gives him a curt nod before heading down the road.

JJ wears a victorious smile on his face as he heads back home with a newfound hope that he was one step closer to being where he belongs.

_____

As JJ approaches the place he once called his second home, he hears you and John B conversing nearby.

“Hey, John B, where’s the cooler?”

“I already put it out on the deck!”

To say he was nervous is an understatement. He was fucking terrified to see you all again. He continues walking the path towards the Chateau with clammy palms and a racing heart. Just relax, he tells himself. You’re gonna be fine. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, JJ takes a deep breath and makes his way to the dock.

“Wait, I think I left my bag in the…” you trail off as you see JJ approaching the three of you. A frown makes its way across your face and you cross your arms across your chest. “What is he doing here?”

John B stops what he’s doing and follows your gaze. He nearly drops the line in his hands when he sees JJ. The look on his face reciprocates yours as you both turn to Pope when he says, “I invited him.”

Both you and John B erupt at that. “What?”

“Without consulting us first?”

“Are you insane?” “Do you not remember what he did?”

Pope puts up both his hands to silence the both of you. “Hey, I think you owe him for what he did for you after that kegger, Y/N.”

With a huff you roll your eyes before storming off to the Chateau. “I’m gonna go grab my bag,” you grumble.

Marching past the boys, JJ catches a whiff of your lavender scent that he used to love. For a second, he almost found himself reaching out to pull you into a hug, but John B’s voice snaps him back to reality.

“What are you doing here, man? Haven’t you and the kooks messed with us enough?”

“I’m here to apologize, John B,” JJ replies sincerely. “To all of you.”

At that moment you step out of the Chateau and stop in your tracks.

Glancing from John B to Pope, and finally to you. He takes your silence as a signal to continue. “I know that nothing I say or do now can ever undo the things I’ve done, but just know that I regret it more than words can describe. I came here to make amends with you all.” You visibly roll your eyes as John B scoffs. “Look, you don’t even have to forgive me now or ever. All I’m asking is that you give me another chance before you make up your mind about me.” At the end of his tangent, JJ is out of breath. Though he’s not sure if it’s because of his nerves or talking so much.

A beat of silence passes amongst the four of you. You share a look with Pope and John B before giving in. With an over dramatic sigh, you say, “Fine. But don’t expect us to be best friends again after this.” You then make your way onto the Pogue with heavy footsteps. John B follows you, giving one last uncertain look towards JJ.

Pope gives JJ a small smile and a shrug before making his way towards the boat with JJ right at his heels with a hopeful smile on his face.

The breeze hit your face as you took in a breath of fresh air. Though the tension in the air is impalpable, everyone on the little fishing boat could feel it weighing down on their shoulders. John B is stiff at the wheel with Pope, who’s usually the most talkative of the group during their fishing trips, only speaks up to direct John B to the perfect spot. You just keep your gaze focused on the horizon as you sit criss crossed on the bow. You could feel JJ’s eye’s burning holes through the back of your head. That’s how intently he was staring at you. You still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that he was actually here. Did you miss him? Definitely more than you’d like to admit. But he hurt you. He broke his promise and he hurt you. There is no way you’d let yourself go through that again, no matter how sorry he is. The sound of the engine’s buzzing comes to a sudden stop, pulling you away from your thoughts. The boys move around the boat silently as they properly dock the boat.

“Do you guys need any help?” JJ’s voice breaks the silence.

“No. We’re good,” John B harshly responds as he kneels beside you. He roughly throws the anchor into the marsh and you place a gentle hand onto his arm. John B looks to you as you send him a soft smile.

“It’s only for one day,” you say. “By tomorrow everything will be back to normal.”

John B nods. “I know, I’m just worried about you,” he replies quietly. “Are you ok?”

You wince at his question. With a small smile, you answer. “I will be.”

He smiles back at you in response before walking back towards where Pope and JJ are standing. “I don’t know about you guys, but I think I’m gonna go for a swim. Y/N, wanna come with?”

You grin as you strip down, leaving you in your bathing suit as you jump into the marsh. The coolness of the water sends a jolt down your spine and for a second, you forget about all you’ve been worrying about. You emerge back to the surface and float on your back for a moment, basking in the sweet serenity of the warm sun on your body and the cool water beneath you. The only thing you could hear are the birds in the distance and John B treading a little ways away from you.

Pope and JJ sit together in silence on the boat as they watch you and John B enjoying yourselves in the marsh. JJ finds himself smiling at your floating figure. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen you so at peace. Maybe that was his fault, and the thought makes him frown. JJ turns to Pope, but seeing him in his own little world, he turns back around.

“Did you need something?” Pope says, looking up from his book.

JJ hesitates for a second, unsure of whether he should ask the question that’s been plaguing his mind since the night he took you home. “Can-can I ask you a question?”

Pope lets out a chuckle. “Well, I mean you just did but go on.”

“Does she ever talk about me?”

Pope sighs knowing which direction this conversation is going. Ever since the two of you were young, you and JJ have always been the closest. So he wasn’t all too surprised when JJ asked about you.

“She does. But that’s all I’ll tell you.” JJ nods in respect before Pope continues, “I think you should talk to her.”

“I tried that. She wants nothing to do with me.”

“You still care about her right?” Pope questions, catching JJ off guard.

“Of course I do. Just because we stopped being friends doesn’t mean I stopped caring about her. Or any of you,” he quickly adds.

“I know,” Pope responds sincerely. “It just sucks that what you did was a pretty dick move, man.”

“Yeah… I’m really sorry about that by the way. Seriously, I-”

Pope cuts him off. “I get it. New life, new expectations right? It just sucks that it went down the way it did.”

Silence falls upon the two as yours and John B’s shouts and laughter draws their attention to the marsh. “You really think I should talk to her?” JJ asks again.

“I do. And John B too, of course. I know you two were friends way before the rest of us were.”

“Thanks, Pope,” JJ says. “I really missed you.”

Pope only responds with a nod. “I’m gonna go join them. You wanna come?”

JJ dismisses himself. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself,” Pope says before removing his shirt and jumping into the marsh.

JJ watches his ex best friends from afar with a small smile on his face. The sound of your laughter as the two boys splashed you sent him back to the days when he used to do the same with you. His heart ached at the memory of all the splash wars and chicken fights the four of you used to have. He knew shouldn’t have pity on himself but he can’t help it. Why did he have to let the pressure of being a kook take over what was important to him? What happened to pogues for life?

A couple more hours pass before you all decide to head back. Most of the boat ride was again, complete silence, minus the multiple times Pope pointed something out to which you or John B would retort. Just being in the presence of his friends again was enough. No words needed. You drop Pope off at his dock before heading back to the Chateau. JJ was about to excuse himself and head home when John B offered him to stay for a while.

Grabbing two beers from the fridge, John B stops at the sound of someone clearing their throat from behind him.

“You asked him to stay. Why?”

John B turns to look at you as you give him a disapproving look. He shrugs in response, closing the fridge door. “He hasn’t done anything to set me off.”

“Yeah? Well him just being here is setting me off!”

He sighs as he comes to stand beside you. “Don’t you think he actually wants to make amends? I mean if he really wanted to come over here and mess with us he would’ve already.”

“It’s not that, John,” you reply, nervously running a hand through your hair. “It’s just… I’m terrified of letting him in again. What happens if I let my guard down and he hurts me all over again? I can’t go through that again, you know I can’t.”

Slinging an arm around your shoulder, John B gives you a reassuring squeeze. “I know, Y/N/N. I’m not saying you have to go and talk to him now. Just try and be civil with him at least, ok? I know I am.” He gives you a quick kiss on the top of your head. “Pope said to try and give him a chance. And you know-”

“Whatever Pope says, goes,” you reply with a small chuckle. “I know.”

John B sends you one last smile before heading out to the yard. Taking a seat beside the blond boy he once called a friend, John B hands him the beer bottle which JJ gladly takes. “Sorry, the cheap stuff’s all I’ve got.”

“I’ll take it. Nothing beats the taste of cold, cheap beer after a long summer’s day,” JJ replies.

John B raises a hand with an “I’ll drink to that,” before the both of them take a swig from their bottles. John B harshly swallows and asks the question that’s been bothering him ever since JJ showed up at his house earlier that day. “So, Maybank, why the sudden change of heart? You didn’t seem to have a problem dropping us back when you did, so why did you come back now?”

JJ winces at the bluntness of John B’s question. But he has a point. Why now? He had so many chances to make things right and yet it took him this long to finally do it. JJ takes another sip of his beer before replying. “The kegger. That was the first time I saw Topper lay his hands on you like that. I didn’t know-”

“You didn’t know that your buddies harass us like that all the time?”

“I’ve only ever been around for the verbal attacks. I never knew Topper threw punches at you guys like that. Let alone touch you guys. Rafe and Topper would always parade around, boasting about how they got under your skin all the time. But I always thought it was because of their words. That’s all I really saw anyway. They never told me they got into fights with you all. And then at the kegger, seeing you almost get your skull bashed open and seeing him pounce on Y/N like that-” He pauses as he finds himself reliving the moment all over again. “I’ve never seen that look in Topper’s eyes before. Even when Y/N came back to defend you guys, it was as if he had no problem hurting her. And I-I couldn’t stand it.”

“So you came back to play hero?” John B asks with an unimpressed look on his face.

“I came back because I remembered all the times I did the same for you guys. I remembered what it felt like to care about someone again. With Rafe and Topper, all I am is a coward. I only really hang out with them because they make me feel untouchable. Because when I’m with them, I know my parents won’t look at me like a disappointment. When I’m with them, I can be the person my parents want me to be. And at the time, that was all that mattered to me. Only now do I realize how much of a mistake that was. I’m not happy, John B. I gave up so much just to please my parents and yet their opinions of me haven’t changed. No matter what I do, it’s never enough for them. I got tired of sacrificing my happiness to make them happy. It wasn’t worth it in the end.”

John B is silent for a moment as he takes in everything JJ tells him. He never knew how much JJ went through after the move. He knew his dad was strict on him before marrying his step mom, but he just assumed that after the marriage he lightened up a bit. He didn’t know the pressure on him only doubled. “I’m sorry, man,” is all John B could muster up in response.

“Yeah me too.”

_____

You had managed to avoid talking to JJ all day yesterday and you were planning on continuing that streak. So rather than hanging out with the boys today, you decided to visit a friend.

“Kie!” you exclaim as you walk into The Wreck. You met Kiara Carrera at a ‘Save the Beach’ clean up one summer and since then you constantly visited her at her family’s restaurant. She is the only kook you can tolerate. To you, she’s a kook at first glance, but a pogue at heart.

“Hey!” she responds, looking up from the counter. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here? You don’t work until tomorrow.”

You walk up to the counter and rest fold your hands together as you send her a smile. “Can’t a gal just visit her friend? Besides, I’ve missed you.”

“The boys being obnoxious again?”

“Yeah, something like that…”

“Well, my shift ends in ten minutes. We can go surf or just hang out after if you want.”

“I would love that,” you reply. You pull out a chair at one of the empty tables and you find yourself getting lost in your thoughts about a certain blond haired boy once again. Seeing JJ hurt just as bad as the last time you saw him. Your heart longed for your old best friend even if you didn’t want to admit it. After all these years, your heart still jumped out of your chest at the sight of his dimpled smile. You found yourself still swooning over his sun kissed skin and tousled hair. As much as you wanted him back in your life, you couldn’t. Your stubborn mind wouldn’t let you. The boys may have forgiven him, but you aren’t at that point yet.

“You ready to go?” Kie’s voice breaks through your train of thought.

“Yup,” you respond, putting on a smile and linking your arm with hers as the two of you head out.

You and Kiara spend the remainder of the day at the beach before heading back to her place for the night. Despite being a pogue, her parents love having you around. Mr. and Mrs. Carrera understands the hardships that you go through everyday so they try to help you out as much as they can.

“I’m so glad I decided to hang out with you today instead of the boys. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love them but sometimes they can be a bit much.”

“I’m glad you decided to hang out today too,” Kiara responds with a smile. “It’s been a minute since we last caught up.”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you before you speak up again. “Hey Kiara?”

“Hey Y/N?”

“What would you do if Sarah Cameron came up to you right now apologizing for what she did to you in the past? Would you forgive her right away?” Kie goes silent again and you open your mouth as you realize you may have just crossed a line. “Sorry, I know how sensitive that subject is. Forget I said anything-”

“No, no, it’s ok,” she cuts you off. She sighs before she continues. “I just wasn’t expecting you to ask that is all.” You hear the bed creak beside you and you turn from your position on your back to your side, where you see Kiara already on her side staring back at you. “I wouldn’t forgive her right away. Not until I’ve seen she has changed at least. Maybe then, I’ll forgive her and try to be friends.”

“But aren’t you afraid of getting hurt again?”

Kiara shrugs. “Sure I am. The way I see it is she wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble to prove herself to me if she is only going to hurt me again in the end you know? There’s always that underlying question of ‘What if…’ of course, but you never know if you don’t try. But she hasn’t changed, has she? She’s still the same bitchy, daddy’s girl.”

You giggle at her comment. You think over her words for a moment and say, “So if she claimed to have changed and came back to make that effort you’d give her that chance even if you’re still upset at her?”

“I mean sure. As long as she doesn’t prove me right a second time. Why the sudden heart to heart, Y/N/N?”

You contemplated dodging the question all together, knowing how much Kiara disliked JJ. But she is also your best friend, aside from the boys of course. So you told Kiara everything from the friendship you and JJ used to have, to the day he moved, and finally how the whole group fell apart.

“I knew there was a reason why I hated him,” Kiara says once you finished your tangent.

You giggle and playfully roll your eyes.

Sitting up Kie turns to look at you and sends you a small smile. “In all seriousness though, Y/N, I think you should just follow your instincts. Do what feels right for you.”

_____

You should’ve known walking home from Kiara’s by yourself the next morning was a mistake. The sound of a car horn going off made you jump and stop in your tracks. Clenching your fists, you continue walking and quicken your pace. The car speeds up and pulls to a stop beside you. You almost break into a full out sprint but the sound of a familiar voice has you frozen in place.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You sigh and turn to face the driver. “JJ,” you reply, unamused.

“Do you, uh, do you need a ride home?”

“I think I’m fine, thanks.” You send him a forced smile and continue walking.

Despite your decline, JJ continues to follow with his car. “Y/N, please. Just let me take you home. I won’t even say a word to you.” He then mimics the motion of zipping his lips.

You consider his offer for his moment before taking it, concluding that riding with JJ was better than risking another run in with Topper. With a sigh you open the passenger side door and plop yourself inside the car. It was a nice car. Nothing like John B’s roomy van that constantly smelled like weed. And for that reason, it made you feel out of place. True to his word, JJ stayed quiet as he drove you home. As the two of you sat in silence, you couldn’t help but glance at the boy next to you every now and then. Even after becoming a kook, he still dressed the same. The thought was enough to pull a small smile to your lips which quickly disappeared when you remembered that you were still mad at him.

“What?” JJ’s voice startles you.

“What?”

“What are you thinking about? I can see you looking at me from the corner of my eye.”

You turn to face the window and softly say, “I thought you said no talking?”

Letting out an airy laugh, JJ replies, “Right, sorry.”

A couple more minutes pass before you notice that JJ took a wrong turn. “Hey, hey wait a second. You’re a turn early.”

JJ hums in response. “I know. I need to stop somewhere really quick.”

“You said you were taking me home not taking a couple of joy stops and then taking me home.” You frown at the boy and he turns to you with an amused smile.

“It’ll be quick, I swear.”

“This is the last time I let you drive me home,” you grumble under your breath, annoyed, as JJ pulls up to the side of the road. He parks the car and gets out to open your door. “What the hell? What are you doing?”

“C’mon. I want to show you something,” he responds, holding out a hand to you. “Y/N, please.”

You hesitate for a moment when you remember Kie’s advice. So you reluctantly take his hand and follow him.

JJ is surprised when you take his hand and don’t let go. He was expecting a snarky remark or at least for you to push him away, but you don’t. A smile spreads across JJ’s face at the feeling of his hand in yours. He missed being close to you. Turning back at you with a grin, JJ leads you to a trail.

“Is this the part where you lure me into the woods and kill me?” you question.

JJ laughs at your comment. “Don’t tempt me.”

At that you scoff, trying to stifle a smile. Well, this is going to be interesting.

_____

taglist: @killingbxys @jellyfishbeansontoast @dmonchld @tovvaf @popeheywards @kaitieskidmore1 @nearlydanger9 @corebore123 @itsagurl @bibliophilewednesday @alexa-playafricabytoto @heykarsyn @judayyyw @downbytheouterbanks @stargazingstarkey @newsies-yeet @teamnick @decadentwastelandtrash @taiter-tots @Lifeisagameweallplay @rudyismymanperiod @earthtotalia @poguesvixen @bijleegiregi @raekenliar @oopsiedoopsie23 @yournan11 @danicarosaline @obx-imagines-07 @writeroutoftime @chaoticbutsoft @cleverandwitty @rafej-cambanks @obxmermaid @lannxyz @u-4-ia @sageellsworth05 @ameeravandijk @beautifuldisaster14 @boldlypessimistic @prejudic3 @no-trespassing-mtz @shy-1234 @llnsmmrln @chrlsgillespie @sweeetxcreature @storytimesv @phantompogues @magicwithaknife @pogueszn

140 notes · View notes

gureishi · 4 years

Note

#6 Saeyoung / fm. Can it be kind of angsty with a good amount of nsfw please thank you

Your wish is my command! But for real though, I got a little carried away with this one because I just loved the scenario too much. Don’t raise the bar for me, y’all—these won’t all be this long! (Maybe. Unless they are. Who knows.)

six: just cause you don’t know what to say

SaeyoungXReader, M (sex!), words: 2846

Warning: this is NSFW! Don’t proceed if you don’t wanna read smut, pls~

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

He’s hurt again.

Why is he always…

You thought you’d never have to see it again: Vanderwood delivering him to you unceremoniously, his shoulder bandaged; him limping toward you, holding out his good arm hopefully as if expecting you to run to him.

But here you are again. You stand in the garage, arms crossed over your chest. His expression falters as he takes in your posture—you’re certainly not leaping into his arms.

“H-hi babe!” He plays dumb, tries a big smile. You can see cuts and bruises on his face, and you don’t miss the way he winces as he gives you what he clearly thinks is an enthusiastic wave. You don’t move. He says your name, a little more quietly, a little more tentatively.

You force yourself to take a deep breath—in and out. You want to yell, to launch yourself at him and hit his stupid, beautiful face and make him swear never to leave you again.

“Where were you?” you ask instead, keeping your voice as level as you can. You don’t do a great job—he visibly recoils and you see Vanderwood already trying to slink off into the shadows.

Saeyoung takes another step toward you and you hold up a hand to stop him. There’s a pained look in his eyes, and you don’t think it’s from the injuries.

“You told me you were going to look at some files,” you say, hearing how cold your voice sounds, seeing the way it wounds him. “Did the files bite you?”

He tries to laugh and winces again and you almost take pity on him. He’s shivering a little—it’s cold in the garage, colder outside, and he’s in a t-shirt. Someone (presumably Vanderwood) has ripped off one of the sleeves to bandage up his shoulder.

Vanderwood has almost disappeared at this point—they’ve made it to the garage door, clearly hoping to dodge your wrath.

“Hey!” You point at them they jump, standing up stick straight. It would be almost comical, if not for the situation. “So what was the plan, then? Bring him along on some stupid half-baked money-grabbing mission and just hope I’d be able to track your bodies down if you got killed?”

Vanderwood’s expression softens, just a little. You realize there are tears in your eyes and you wipe them away furiously.

“I swear to god I thought it was going to be an easy one or I wouldn’t have brought him,” Vanderwood says in their calmest, most placating voice.

“Did you know he lied to me?”

Vanderwood slowly shakes their head. “To be fair, I didn’t ask.”

“Fine.” Clearly taking this as a dismissal, they duck their head and slip into the front seat of the car they’ve left running in the driveway. You hesitate, then: “Vanderwood?” They freeze again, turn to face you. “Are you hurt?”

Again, you see warmth in their eyes—just for a moment, and then it’s gone. They look between you and Saeyoung, who’s still standing stock-still in the middle of the garage as if waiting for instructions.

“I’m fine,” Vanderwood says.

“And does he need to go to the hospital?” You’re not messing around; if it were up to Saeyoung, he’d try and mend a broken bone himself.

“No,” Vanderwood says firmly. “Flesh wounds.” You raise your eyebrows as if to say really? and they nod. “This is nothing for him. Give him a day, maybe, and he’ll be back to normal.”

Without giving you the chance to ask anything else, Vanderwood gives you a little salute and revs the engine. You look down at the pavement, pushing back your tears by sheer force of will. You wail till their car is out of sight before addressing Saeyoung again.

“If they say you’re fine, then fine,” you say, and you turn on your heel and stalk back to the bunker—you’ve left the door hanging open, and the cold air is getting in.

Saeyoung still doesn’t move.

“A-are you going to let me inside?” he asks in a small voice. For a moment, you want to tell him no. You want to lock yourself up in his huge empty house (Saeran is out, at a doctor’s appointment, so you really would be alone), leave him there, make him wait until you’re ready to forgive him.

But you don’t do this—of course you don’t.

“Come in, then.”

You leave the door open for him and slip out of your shoes, kicking them against the wall with perhaps slightly too much fervor. He follows you, so slowly, so quietly, like he’s afraid to make a sound. Again, you feel a twinge of guilt. You wonder if it’s too late to go back, to forget it all, to wrap him up in your arms and kiss his bruises and reassure him that he’s safe.

Not yet.

He follows you, silently, down the hall and into the living room. You cross your arms again and face him. He looks so pitiful. Don’t give in.

“Saeyoung, tell me why you lied to me.”

He fidgets, like he always does when he’s nervous. He taps out a pattern on his leg with one hand; his injured arm hangs limply at his other side.

“I don’t know,” he says finally, almost inaudibly. There’s a dark, hollow look in his eyes, like he’s receding into himself.

“Hey.” Finally—finally—you move closer, and he flinches when you reach for him. You run a gentle finger along a new cut on his cheek, which intersects with an old scar. “You put me through about eight hours of torture, wondering where you were and if you were even alive, after I finally figured out you weren’t just ‘looking at files’ at Vanderwood’s house. You owe me an explanation.”

He swallows; his throat is dry. “It’s the only thing I know how to do,” he says in that same toneless voice. You sigh loudly. There are a million emotions battling inside you: you want to scold him; you want to check his wounds and re-dress them; you want to scream at him; you want to hold him.

“Sit,” you say. He sits on the couch, a little stiffly, and you go to the kitchen, get him a glass of water. You know enough about the kinds of missions he used to go on for the agency to understand more or less what he’s been doing for the last day. “I thought the agency didn’t exist anymore,” you say, returning to him; he takes the water gratefully and drinks it all, a little too fast.

“It doesn’t,” he says. “This was, um. Somebody Vanderwood owed a favor to. I think they just want…a clean slate.”

“And?” You perch on your knees beside him. You don’t have to forgive him, but you do have to see what’s going on with his shoulder. He flinches, inhaling sharply, as your fingers graze the bandage.

“It’s done,” he says hoarsely. He hesitantly takes your hand off his arm and clutches it tightly in his own. “I’m—I’m really sorry I lied to you,” he stammers. “I shouldn’t’ve done that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You slip your hand out of his grasp, return to the bandages. He tries his best to sit still as you unwrap them. Vanderwood was right—the wound is already healing. You’ve seen him with much, much worse.

You leave him again, gather the supples you need. When you’d first moved into the bunker, it was bare—he had no food to speak of, minimal personal possessions. Even then, though, he had first aid supplies: enough to stock several small hospitals.

You sit cross-legged on the couch, and he’s quiet as you clean the deep cuts in his shoulder and arm, as you wrap them with fresh bandages. You don’t ask how he got these particular injuries, and he doesn’t volunteer the information.

Finally, you stand, eyeing your work. You’ve done a pretty good job.

“Now take off your clothes.”

His eyes, which had been half-lidded as you worked—he’s exhausted, you can see it written in every line on his face—shoot open. Wide open. He laughs nervously.

“Umm, d-does that mean you forgive me?”

He’s blushing. Oh god.

“Of course not,” you say, too loudly. The back of your neck feels hot. “I need to see where else you’re hurt, idiot.”

“R-right.” He looks crestfallen and you almost laugh, almost bend down and press a searing kiss to his cute lips, dry and cracked as they are. But you don’t.

“I’m serious.”

He gulps and tugs off his shirt. It gets stuck on his head due to a combination of his bandaged shoulder and the one roughly torn-off sleeve. He struggles a little and it’s so adorable and sad that you can’t stand it, so you help him.

“Thanks,” he says in a low voice. The shirt is off.

“Shit, Saeyoung…”

His shoulder is the worst of it, but there are little cuts and bruises everywhere. A dark bruise, already purpling, runs up his side. You touch it as gently as you can and he shivers.

“Does it hurt?”

“N-not exactly…”

You feel his eyes boring into you and when you look up you can’t help but shudder—there’s a very familiar dazed, needy look on his face.

“Babe, not right now…!” The pet name slips out before you can stop yourself. You feel yourself melting a little, scorched by his gaze.

“I’m so sorry I lied,” he whispers and he makes his voice sound husky in a way he knows always sends a shiver up your spine. “I won’t do it again.”

Oh god.

Tentatively, he runs one hand down your side, skating over your hip. Fuck.

“Will you promise me never to do that again?” you ask him, trying to keep your voice stern—but it still comes out breathy and desperate.

“I swear,” he says. He’s getting more confident, bolstered by the yearning you can’t keep out of your voice. God, how you’d missed him. His slips his hand under your shirt, skating up your ribcage. You let him.

“What do you swear?” you ask. He takes your hips in both hands then and tugs you roughly onto his lap. You wriggle, straddling him, and he gasps, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

“T-to never lie to you again,” he says. His hips are shaking. “To not do stuff that might get me killed anymore.”

“Even if Vanderwood asks you to?” He moans softly as you grind your hips against him; realizing you have all the power, you fumble with the button of his pants—unhook it, undo the zipper.

“No matter who asks m-me—ahhhh.”

You palm him through his boxers and he moans, wriggling beneath you. You take his good hand in yours and guide it to your leg, up your thigh, under your skirt, around your hip. You brush a hand over him again, feeling the way he’s straining against his underwear.

“And you’re really, really, really sorry?” you ask. You grind your hips against his erection and he mumbles something incoherent. He’s got a death grip on your thigh.

“What was that?”

“I-I…yeah, I…d-don’t know what else to say…” he mutters. You flutter your hips back and forth and feel his legs shuddering beneath you.

“Then don’t,” you say firmly. “Just touch me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His hand springs to action, trailing up your inner thigh and ghosting over your already-wet underwear.

“Don’t tease me right now,” you say. He audibly gulps and then moves one calloused finger over your clit, through your underwear. You see sparks and your vision goes blurry. There’s a burning heat inside of you now—you feel swollen and needy.

He flicks his finger over you again, falling into a rhythm. He’s gentle yet persistent. You scrunch your eyes shut and fireworks burst behind your closed eyelids and you have to grab the couch for purchase, avoiding his hurt shoulder. Your toes curl.

“Goddammit, Saeyoung…!” you whimper, and he moves faster, stirring the burning, blinding feeling inside you. You can’t help the way your hips are shaking and you can tell it’s driving him mad, too; he moans, deep and low, as you brush against his trapped erection again, and the sweet sound tears you open.

It’s as if you’re floating just above your body, watching from outside yourself. You feel the warm ocean of sensations cascading around you; you see yourself from above as your eyes fly open, your arms trembling, barely holding you up as you crest into him.

The feeling recedes in bits and pieces, trickling away, and you pant as you come down.

“Th-that was so hot,” he whispers. His eyes are dark, his pupils huge; through both of your underwear, you feel him twitch.

“I’ve never come quite like that before,” you murmur, inches from his lips; and then you kiss him, searing hot like the longing you felt when he was gone, hard like the way you wanted to hit him when you saw he’d gotten himself hurt again.

There’s a moment—a brief, flickering moment—when you think about sliding off his lap and walking away, leaving him trembling and desperate. You could.

But you want to feel him inside you too badly—want to see the look of utter relief and release on his sweet, bruised face.

You slip from his lap and tear your underwear off, not bothering with the rest of your clothes. He gazes up at you, adoringly, as if waiting for confirmation that you’re going to allow him the satisfaction he so desperately craves.

You bend over him and slip his boxers down; he sighs with relief as he springs free of the constraining fabric.

“Stay still.”

You straddle him again and brush against his tip, just barely touching. Another little spark bursts behind your eyes.

“P-please…” he whispers, and you see he’s long gone already; he looks almost drunk, his eyes unfocused.

So you oblige him. You slide onto him, sinking him deep into you, and moans a string of incoherent syllables. You lift up your hips, using the couch for support, avoiding his hurt arm, the cuts on his chest.

He’s unraveling before your eyes and it’s beautiful to watch. You slide your hips up and back, down and forward, slowly and then faster, faster, and he whimpers, and you feel a little shudder deep inside you as he thrusts back against, pushing himself deeper. He’s gasping for air and you clench your thighs around his hips and take control again, moving in a figure-eight, excruciatingly slow.

He groans and suddenly his arm is around your waist and, in an instant, you’re on your back on the couch, his face hovering over yours. Then he’s inside you again and the thrill of the moment gets to you and you moan along with him, clutching desperately at the fabric of the couch.

“S-Saeyoung, your arm—” you gasp. He holds up his injured arm and wiggles it in the air, showing you that it’s safe, and you laugh, clenching as he thrusts into you, and he’s completely undone.

He closes his eyes as he comes, head thrown back, and you skate your fingers over the exposed skin of his neck.

Eventually, he stills, panting—he lowers himself, collapsing against your chest. You wrap your arms all the way around him and nuzzle your face into his hair.

“So,” you say softly. “Was that your way of distracting me from scolding you?” He opens one golden eye and peers up at you.

“Did it work?”

“Saeyoung!”

“Ahhh! Sorry!”

You playfully bat at him and he rolls off of you, pulling himself up, running a hand through his sweaty, messy hair. His eyes are clear now.

“You can’t use sex to get me to forgive you whenever you do something bad, you know,” you tell him.

He waggles his eyebrows at you. “Can’t I?”

“No!”

“I know.” He sounds serious now, and he carefully knees beside you, taking your hand. “I am genuinely sorry I lied to you,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I am sorry I got myself in another dangerous situation and made you worry. I promise not to do it again.”

“Good,” you say. You press little kisses to each of his calloused fingertips. “Now go change and get emotionally prepared because Saeran’s going to be home soon and he’ll be even madder at you than I was.”

Saeyoung yelps, shoots up from the couch, winces, and stumbles to the bedroom, pants still bunched around his thighs.

You’re serious about the promise—you mean to hold him to it. But it’s so hard to stay mad at him, you think, stretching and collecting your underwear from where it’s gotten wedged between two couch cushions. He’s just too easy to forgive.

#mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #mysme #mm #request #gureishi writes requests #otomefoxystar #saeyoung choi #707 #saeyoungxreader #707xreader #spicy spaceship

119 notes · View notes

halpertstuna · 4 years

Text

must have been the wind - jj maybank

A/N: this imagine is inspired by the song “must have been the wind” by alec benjamin. i wrote this imagine listening to the slowed version of the song. i highly recommend you listen to it whilst/before/after reading this(:

pairing: jj x reader

word count: 2,874

warnings: mentions of domestic violence, some angst, some fluff, ya know, all that jazz. and probably typos (this isn’t really edited, pls forgive me)

-> masterlist <-

(gif credit: @jjbanks )

It was 1:28AM, you gazed out the window of the moving car, your elbow was placed on the door panel whilst your head rested in the palm of your hand, the dark navy blue moonlit water in the ocean outside was being reflected in your eyes.

You were currently sat in the backseat of a white Honda lost in your thoughts. Your dad got transferred to North Carolina due to him getting a promotion at work, which was a big deal, especially since your mum wasn’t working and so he jumped on the opportunity right away, moving the two of you with him.

Obviously you were happy for him, but you were also kind of glum since it meant packing up your entire life back in Miami and leaving all of your friends behind with everything else that was familiar, warm and felt like home.

You were being pulled out of your thoughts by the car coming to a stop.

You exited the car taking your bag and suitcase with you to the front porch, then retuned to help your exhausted parents with theirs, once you acknowledged they were struggling to keep their eyes open.

The movers were supposed to come in the morning at about 8AM to unload the rest of your belongings.

You had entered the house and your dad lead you to your room, your mum following not far behind, not wanting to be alone in the foreign, empty house.

You set your bags down next to the bedroom door and kissed both your parents goodnight. They went to their room shortly after and fell into a deep asleep right away.

You changed into pyjamas and laid down in bed staring at the ceiling, you were tired but you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep.

After about an hour of just gazing at the fan spinning above your head, your eyes started to flutter shut, and just as you were about to drift off to sleep the sound of glass shattering startled you, making your heart race as the sound echoed through your ears.

You jumped out of bed and ran to your parents room worried, only to find out they were fast asleep.

Where did the sound come from then? And how come your parents didn’t hear anything? Is the tiredness starting to affect your hearing? Did you just imagine it?

You walked back to your room confused and curious as to where the sound came from.

you laid back in bed and quickly fell asleep assuming what you heard was caused by your sleep deprived state, your ears playing tricks on you.

You managed to fall asleep pretty quickly but you were pulled out of your dreams by the sound of two male voices, screaming at the top of their lungs, shooting at each other vitriolic comments.

Now you were sure, you weren’t just imagining it earlier.

You walked towards your bedroom window, peeking out in hopes of seeing something, anything that could give you a clue to whatever the hell is going on at almost four in the morning.

After about five minutes of hearing despicable words roll off someone’s tongue, muffled by the walls yet clear as day the second you let them sink in, you decided to go back to sleep since it’s really not your place, and just as you were about to walk back to your bed, you noticed a tall figure exit the house in a hurry while someone from behind it kept roaring in a resentful tone vile words.

You quickly turned your attention back to the view your window had to offer, watching as what looked like a teenage boy, put a helmet on his disheveled hair, get on a bike and ride off.

And with that, the noise stopped.

You were stood by your window as the quiet night swallowed you whole, the only sound audible now was your breathing.

You laid back in your bed taking in what you had just witnessed.

Who was that boy? Who was the mysterious, scary voice behind the door? why was he yelling such dreadful things at him? And what more was he capable of?

The questions were endless, they haunted your thoughts, knowing you had to find out what was going on, if that boy was okay.

You dozed off not long after, given the fact that you were after a flight and it was really late.

The next morning you were woken up by the rays of sunlight breaking through the glass of your window, resting on your closed eyelids. The realisation that you forgot to shut the curtains last night before you went to bed suddenly hitting you.

It was almost eight. You let out a loud groan and flipped so you were facing the wall, desperate for more sleep.

You barely had time to even try before your mum knocked on your door, your eyes fluttered open, she smiled at you greeting you good morning.

You let out a sigh and sat up, mumbling under your breath “it could be better”.

You got up and brushed your teeth, then went back to your room to get changed. You wore blue jean shorts, a black oversized band tee and white slip-on vans.

you entered the kitchen and noticed your dad making coffee, he handed you a mug filled with the warm liquid, you quickly drank it and set the mug down in the sink, realising he had started unpacking the “fragile - kitchen” box, meaning the mover’s loading truck was already outside.

You got out of the hous and your dad followed, your mum was already helping with the boxes and the two of you joined her and the movers helping them unload the truck.

It was almost nine and you were down to your last boxes, when you heard what sounded like the engine of a motorcycle.

Your head shot in the direction of the house next to yours as you noticed the same bike from yesterday come to a stop at the front porch, a blonde mop of hair was the first thing you noticed once the boy took off the helmet he had on, running his fingers through his hair.

He started making his way into the house, not giving you a single look.

When you finished unloading and unpacking your parents asked you to take out the trash.

You held two big, black garbage bags in your petite hands and started making your way to the bin.

You threw the content in, and just as you turned around the boy exited his house.

The two of you made eye contact and you offered him a kind smile which he mirrored without hesitation.

You started walking towards your house but stopped in your tracks at the memories of last night.

He was sat on his doorstep, a juul in his hand, as he hit it repeatedly.

You started walking towards him.

“Hey” he greeted sending you a smirk.

“Hi” you replied grinning.

As you got closer to him, you were met with the prettiest pair of blue eyes you’d ever seen.

“I’m JJ” he introduced himself taking another hit

“I’m Y/N, I’m new here” you stated suddenly shy under his gaze, taking in how attractive he is from up close.

“Yeah, i kinda figured, I saw the truck here earlier, plus I’ve never seen you around before” he affirmed

You nodded, a comfortable silence fell upon you two.

You were looking him up and down, he was wearing a grey tank top that revived his biceps and kaki shorts with a pair of black boots.

You then looked at the juul he was holding and noticed his knuckles looked slightly bruised, painted in this violet colour. You studied his features slowly before breaking the silence.

“Hey, um I actually wanted to ask you a question” He looked up at you signalling you to continue. “Last night, when I was trying to sleep, I heard glass shattering and other noises, d- did you hear anything?” He averted his gaze from you to the dock in front of him shaking his head no.

You knew he was lying. But you didn’t push him any further, knowing that if he wanted to talk about it he would.

You quickly changed the subject which he was highly grateful for.

The two of you sat there talking for a few hours, you told him about your life back home and he told you about the pogues, the two of you found out you actually have a lot in common, you share the same love for the ocean and surfing, you both would do anything for your loved ones and you both want to travel the world and explore it.

You didn’t know how long you’ve been sat with JJ, talking, until the two of you noticed the sun starting to set in the horizon, painting the sky in the most beautiful shades of yellowish-red slowly followed by shades of violet and blue.

You darted your gaze over to JJ, only to discover his was already on you. You smiled up at him, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, you whispered a “hi” to which he chuckled and shook his head, smiling at how cute he found your softness.

And for the first time since you moved, you felt welcome. And even though it started getting chilly, you felt warm inside, thanks to the humorous boy beside you.

You could hear your name being called from inside the house, telling you dinner’s ready.

You bid your goodbyes and walked back to your house.

You ate dinner with your family then went to bed, this time falling asleep easily since you were exhausted from that day.

At about two in the morning, you had to pee, so you walked to the bathroom half asleep but were quickly snapped back to reality when you heard “I’ll fucking kill you!” bawled with rage.

Your eyes were shot open at the sound of that and you started freaking out a bit. You were really worried but you didn’t want to stick your nose where it didn’t belong, so you decided to let it go.

When you laid back in bed you heard someone ignite a motorcycle and take off, you assumed it was JJ, and again, with that, just like the night before, the noise stopped.

The next day you didn’t see him. You were worried something might have happened but you reassured yourself, assuming he was probably with the pogues. That day was dedicated to helping your parents unpack furniture, cutlery etc.

You went to sleep pretty early given you were in desperate need of it.

You were abruptly woken up by the sound of loud thuds and the words “worthless piece of shit” ringing in your ears as they were being yelled at someone.

You quickly got up and looked out your window, you were concerned about JJ’s well being, assuming he got back home while you were sleeping.

This time you just couldn’t shake the feeling something’s seriously wrong, with that you slipped on your shoes and quickly ran to his house in a panic.

You knocked on the door firmly.

Once it was swung open and you were met with the same pair of blue eyes you saw yesterday, but this time with a bruise under one and a cut under the other.

His eyes softened at the sight of your worried state and you drank him in, searching his face for more bruises.

“What the hell is going on?” you asked now angry “what’s all that noise?!”

JJ looked at you then down at his feet and said “I wish I could tell you but I didn’t hear anything” you were taken aback by his words.

You knew he was playing dumb, and usually you won’t want to intrude but you were far too worried about him.

“Are you serious?” You asked him with wide eyes. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. It must’ve been the wind.” you were dumbfounded by his statement, speechless.

“Thanks for caring, but I have to go back inside, good night.” Your eyes swam with concern as he closed the door. You walked back to your house not wanting to pressure him any further into talking about it since he looked like he was on the verge of breaking.

The next day you went to the beach with your surfboard. You ran into the water, eager to catch some waves when you were met with none other than the “surfing legend” himself, as he liked to say, JJ Maybank.

He was on his surfboard riding a wave as you watched in awe.

Once he saw you he started paddling on his board in your direction.

“Well hello there, how are you enjoying the waters of the Outer Banks so far?” he greeted authoritatively and you giggled at that. “I actually just got here, didn’t really get the chance to ride any waves. But I can’t say the same about you. You’re really good” you commented and a grin spread across his face. “Thanks” he replied.

He sat straddling his surfboard and as he got closer you noticed a giant bruise on his stomach, you gasped at the sight, he didn’t understand at first, then followed your gaze. “What happened?” You asked faintly, reaching out and tenderly tracing the bruise with your fingertips. “It’s nothing,” he scoffed “you should see the other guy” he chuckled awkwardly, but you weren’t buying it.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it,” you started “but just know my door is always open, you can come whenever you’d like for as long as you desire if you ever need a friend” he shot you a watery smile at that invitation and a comforting silence fell upon the two of you.

You broke it by saying “I bet I can catch that wave before you Maybank!” Then started steering away towards the giant wave that was heading your way, “Oh! Bring it on Y/L/N!” He retorted following not far behind.

That day was fun for the both of you, sun, surf and no worries.

When you got home you took a shower and put on a pair of grey sweatpants and a white oversized shirt.

It was getting late and you were beat from surfing and being in the sun all day, you had no trouble drowsing off.

You were sound asleep until you were alarmed by the sound of knocking on your window. You shifted the blanket off your body and got up, your warm feet made contact with the cold wooden floor, waking you up a bit as you approached your window.

You rubbed your eyes trying to make out the face of the blurry figure on the other side of the glass. You quickly picked up that it was JJ and opened the window, letting him climb in.

He didn’t need to say anything, knowing you already knew why he was there. You turned on the the table lamp, then noticed he had a busted lip, and a fresh cut on his cheek.

You were quick to wrap him in your embrace, hugging him dangerously close. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and started crying, tears slid down his cheeks, making the collar of your shirt wet and see through, but you didn’t care. He buried his face in your chest and you held him as tight as possible until he managed to steady his breathing.

You held his hand and intertwined your fingers, leading him to the bathroom without a single word being passed between the two of you. You signaled him to sit in the counter and he obeyed. You started cleaning up his bruises and cuts, bandaging what you could.

After you finished you told him to go back to your room. You went to the kitchen and quickly returned, plopping down on the bed beside him, handing him ice cream, knowing it’s the most comforting thing you could give, other than a hug which followed the deed.

You put on “Iron Man”, trying to lighten the mood with Tony Stark’s humour.

As the credits rolled he opened his mouth “I’m sorry,” he mumbled “for bothering you like this it’s just- I mean- I-“ you cut him off by caressing his cheek with your hand, he leaned into your touch. “It’s okay.” you cooed, a single tear slid down his cheek and you wiped it away with your thumb, smiling weakly at him “We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready, and until you are, we can say ‘it must have been the wind’” you quoted what he’d told you the other day, gaining a smile from him, a real smile, eyes full of adoration.

You pulled the blanket on the two of you up to your chin.

You shut off the light and muttered a “Good night” before drifting off.

He kissed your forehead, lingering for a bit longer than he should’ve.

He murmured a good night before falling asleep as well beside you.

319 notes · View notes

jeranasblog · 4 years

Text

Welcome to Discord

Rating: E

Pairing: Peter Parker/ Tony Stark

Summary: Peter spends a lot of time on a kink Discord server, talking about his sexuality and accepting his kinks. When he met CallMeDaddy70, he is drawn in and it immediately clicks between the two of them. How could he have known that everything leads to a huge surprise?

Warnings: No major warnings, but since it’s smut, check the tags on Ao3

Notes: The idea is from @itfeelssogoodmrstark (All the credits for this to her, pls). I hope you like it <3

Read on Ao3

Peter was nervous. He sat on the couch, squirming every second, and his feet tapped rhythmically on the floor. His mind was filled with anxious thoughts, thoughts about what could go wrong, how he could fuck it up, and he was close to screaming and hiding under his bed after. His whole life depended on tomorrow.

Since he had been a little kid, Peter loved engineering. He built his first robot before he even went to school, studied day and night to get into MIT, and worked hard to graduate early. Everything to get his dream job, everything to work for Stark Industries. It wasn’t only the company, the attempts to make clean energy and save the world, no it was also Tony Stark himself, Peter was gone for. Stark wasn’t only an engineer, he was an inventor, and Peter would die to work for him, to help him save the world.

And tomorrow, he had to prove himself. Peter had applied for the job at SI months ago and after a few tests, he was invited to a job interview, not with just anyone, but with Tony Stark personally. His stomach turned when he thought about it. Tomorrow would show if his dream would come true.

Peter tried to calm down, he really did. He made himself a cup of tea, binge-watched Netflix, and called his best friend MJ to calm down, but nothing worked. In the end, he was as nervous as he had been before and there was no way he would find sleep tonight. No way but… Wait, there was one approach he hadn’t tried yet.

Suddenly giddy with excitement, Peter grabbed his laptop and opened Discord. The familiar screen was greeting him, his most visited server already opened. He pondered for a second before he decided to click on the “general” channel.

WatermelonSugar: Hey, guys. KinkyBastard1: Hey, Sugar. LetMeTieYourHands: Hey, Sugar. How are you?

Peter smiled a little. The people on the Discord channel were amazing and he felt welcome in the small community that had built up over the years. They had encouraged him to talk about his kinks, to accept himself and the things he liked, and even though not all of them shared the same interests, they were kind and understanding.

When he had first joined the kink Discord MJ had recommended, Peter had expected to get a dick pic in the first five minutes. He knew the internet, knew some people were only there to get a few nudes they could jerk off to, but Peter wanted something else. Sure, he wanted to talk to people about sex, might even want to video chat with a few hot and older men, but he also wanted to talk to them.

WatermelonSugar: I’m fine. Just a little stressed. LetMeTieYourHands: Oh, I’m sorry. What’s up? WatermelonSugar: Important job interview tomorrow. KinkyBastard1: Definitely crossing my fingers for you, Sugar. What have you applied for?

Peter smiled at the question. He hadn’t even told them his real name, but they still cared about him, his life, and his sexuality and the thought made him warm inside. From his real-life friends, only MJ knew what he liked. She knew Peter wanted to be with an older man, someone who calls himself Daddy, someone who could hold him down and praise him until Peter was a shivering mess. It took him quite the courage to tell her what he liked, but it had been so worth it because she recommended to try out the Discord. Holy, the decision had been a good one.

Peter had spent hours online, chatting with other Subs who liked exactly the same and Daddies who made him feel things he hadn’t felt before. He loved the freedom he had online, the anonymity. Still, no one had ever woken the wish inside of him to meet, they were amazing, but it hadn’t clicked until one day, Peter had met CallMeDaddy70 who ticked all his boxes.

CallMeDaddy70 was kind and sweet. He asked Peter about his day and his friends, talked to him about his interests, which they shared by the way because Daddy was an engineer as well, and he encouraged Peter to talk about his problems and fears. Peter had learned a lot, talking about his desires in bed and he was grateful Daddy was such a good mentor.

But when the mood struck, Daddy could be the complete opposite. Once in a while, their private chats had turned dirty and Peter couldn’t get his hands in his pants fast enough. The other man was shameless, obscenely describing what he wanted to do to Peter, and the thought of someone dominating him like this had made him come all over himself. And yesterday Daddy had offered Peter to set up a face call.

He was a little disappointed when Daddy wasn’t online yet because he had hoped to see the man for the first time. He craved the other man’s presence, although he hadn’t even seen him yet, although he hadn’t even talked to him yet.

WatermelonSugar: I’m applying for an engineering job. It’s actually a job I wanted since I was a little child. KinkyBastard1: That’s amazing. I wish you all the luck. WatermelonSugar: Ty

After that, Peter only skimmed through the other channels. He read a discussion of two members talking about their bondage fantasies and he admired the picture of LetMeTieYourHands who tried Shibari on his Sub for the first time, but nothing caught his eyes for a long time until a private message popped up.

CallMeDaddy70: Hey, Sugar. I’ve seen you’re online. How are you?

Suddenly, Peter was excited again, shifting on his couch to be closer to the screen.

WatermelonSugar: Great, now that you’re there. How are you? CallMeDaddy70: That’s cute, baby boy <3 I’m fine. A little stressed because my secretary made me sign contracts the entire day.

Right, Peter had forgotten it. Daddy owned a big company and the thought made him even more irresistible. It wasn’t even the money the man probably had, it was the power that drew Peter in.

WatermelonSugar: To be honest, I’ve been waiting for you.

Peter swallowed after he had confessed the truth and stared at the three dots on the screen that showed that Daddy was typing.

CallMeDaddy70: Is that so, baby boy? WatermelonSugar: YES. You promised me we could call soon, Daddy.

Usually, Peter wouldn’t be so straight forward, but he had been fidgety all day and he needed to find a way to get all the emotions out. Talking to Daddy would make him think about something else, and to be honest, he couldn’t wait to figure out how the other man looked anyway.

CallMeDaddy70: I did that, didn’t I? Alright, baby boy. Give me ten minutes. I set up my cam.

Holy shit. Even though Peter had suggested talking, he hadn’t been sure Daddy would agree. Suddenly, he was terribly nervous. What if Daddy wouldn’t like him? What if he made a fool out of himself?

Peter sprinted to his bedroom and opened his closet door. There was no way he would wear his old joggers when he saw Daddy for the first time, so Peter pulled out his velvet sleeping shorts and a cropped t-shirt. He wanted to look nice for Daddy, wanted the other man to like him.

Thankfully, Peter was back before Daddy called. He sat down in front of the screen, anxiously fumbling with the hem of his shirt and waiting for the green button to appear. He was startled when he heard the sound, nevertheless.

“Hey, Daddy,” Peter’s voice was trembling with excitement when he accepted the call. The screen of the other man was still black, and it took a second before he came into view. Holy, whatever Peter had expected, this wasn’t it.

Daddy was the most handsome man he had ever seen. He was older than Peter, but it wasn’t obvious how much older, since his face was still hidden in the shadows of the room. The suit jacket Daddy wore was opened, revealing a muscular chest no one was allowed to have, and Peter’s mouth watered in anticipation. He wanted to climb this man like a tree, rub himself all over him and bounce on his cock. But the worst were Daddy’s thighs, thick and muscular, straining the suit pants and seducing Peter into giving himself away.

Peter hadn’t thought it could get even worse until Daddy opened his mouth. “Hi, Sugar. I’m glad we could finally call. I’m sorry for keeping my face hidden, but I appreciate the privacy for now.”

God, the voice, a deep baritone that vibrated through Peter’s body, lightening him up and making him shake in arousal. He didn’t even care that Daddy was hiding his face, too delighted that they could finally talk after all. Apparently, Peter had been quiet too long because the man spoke up again.

“God, Sugar, look at you,” Peter immediately blushed. “I’ve imagined a lot of things, but I haven’t imagined you looking like this. So innocent, so beautiful. Are you even legal?”

Peter squirmed in delight and the words made his cock twitch in his shorts. He was riled up from the entire day and such a gorgeous man on top finally made him break. “Daddy, you’re so handsome yourself. And don’t worry, I’m twenty-three.” The words came out shy and Peter giggled afterward, hiding his smile behind one hand.

The reaction he got was a growl. “Fuck, sweetheart. I’ve planned to talk with you a little first, ask you about your day and the things you’ve planned, but forgive me, I can’t. Do you even know how you’re looking right now, baby? Tight little shorts that show off everything. God, look at your creamy thighs.”

It was the moment Peter whimpered for the first time and there was no way Daddy hadn’t heard it. He could see how the other man shifted in his chair, one hand moving and pressing down on his crotch. Although Daddy hadn’t taken his length out yet, the tenting pants were enough to show that the man was well endowed, and Peter whimpered for a second time.

“Daddy, I’m so sorry, I need you so much.” Peter’s body burned and he was squirming on the couch. He sat on his knees, thighs spread in front of the camera and he could no longer suppress the urge to pat his cock through his shorts. The fabric was thin, and even though he wore his favorite pair of white panties underneath, Peter could feel every touch.

“I’m a bad man,” Daddy sighed while he opened his zipper and pulled out his cock, the rest of his clothes still snugly in place. “I didn’t want to be one of those internet creeps, but here I am, cock in my hand not even ten minutes after I’ve seen you for the first time.”

Peter’s mouth watered and he increased the pressure on his groin, his hips slowly started to move. Daddy’s cock was everything he had ever dreamed of, long and thick, oh so much thicker than his own, slightly curved and an angry red. It invited Peter to open his lips and take him as deep as possible.

The arousal was heady, pushing his fear of embarrassment and rejection in the back of his mind while he watched the man stroking his own cock. “Please, Daddy. Can I touch myself?” He felt the sudden urge to ask for permission.

The noise he got in return was outright obscene. The man growled, his grip getting tighter and Peter could see that his knuckles turned white. He did this, Peter made this man lose control and he whined, still doing nothing but keeping up the pressure on his cock.

“Be a good boy for me, Sugar,” Daddy commanded, his breathing still even although his cock looked like it would explode any second. “Take off your shorts. Show me, baby. Show Daddy what he’s working with.”

Peter sobbed in relief when the pressure on his cock lessened and he couldn’t get out of his pants fast enough. He was a little sad Daddy couldn’t admire the white panties he had picked out, but the need to get off was too strong to ignore.

“That’s it, baby,” Daddy praised, and the word went directly to Peter’s cock and made him moan. “Look at this, Sugar. Your cock is perfect. So cute and wet for me. Spread your legs a little more for Daddy.”

There was no way Peter couldn’t obey, so he spread his legs as wide as possible. He leaned back; his body propped against the back of the sofa while he double-checked the view Daddy had. While the man was sitting in an armchair, only his cock on display, Peter was almost completely exposed. The thought of Daddy still being fully closed did things to him and his cock twitched against his stomach.

“One hand on your cock, baby,” the man instructed, and Peter eagerly followed his command. “Don’t grip it, baby. Just a slight caress on the side. Tease, Sugar.”

“No, Daddy, please,” Peter whimpered, but he obeyed nevertheless, keeping his touch painfully light. If his mind had been clear, he might have been embarrassed about the sounds he made, but there was nothing he could think about beside Daddy.

His pleads seemed to be the last straw because he could see that the man picked up the rhythm. Daddy’s fist was squeezed tightly around his own cock and he jerked himself off fiercely. “Sugar, do you have lube? Would you finger yourself for me? It’s okay to say no, but Daddy wants to see your tight little hole.”

Yes, yes, yes. Peter wanted it very much. As much as he liked playing with his cock, feeling something inside of him was just this tiny bit more. Suddenly, he was glad he had prepared himself and he fumbled for the lube he had hidden behind a couch cushion, his other hand not once leaving his cock. Peter opened the cap and dribbled a huge amount on his free hand.

“Can I, Daddy? Please, lemme?” It didn’t matter if he had to beg or plead, he would sob and scream just to get this delicious friction inside of him. Daddy was pressing all his buttons and he knew he had never been this aroused, this desperate, in his life. He was barely touching his cock, didn’t even have a finger inside, but Peter could already feel that he was getting close. Just from a few words and a whole lot of tension between him and the older man.

The man paused for a second and it was the first time Peter would die to see his face. He understood it, the man was probably important since he owned a company and he couldn’t show his face to just anyone on the internet, especially because they were doing a lot more than just talk, but he still wanted to see the other man’s expression. Would he look firmly at Peter? Would he smile or would he be serious? A sob left his lips, he couldn’t wait anymore, and the anticipation was killing him.

“You may, Sugar.” Finally. He couldn’t wait for even a second longer, pressing in his first finger in one go. Peter was used to this, he was fingering himself multiple times a week, so he thrust in once or twice before he added a second finger, moaning when he felt the delicious burn. His eyes had fallen shut, the sensation too much but not enough, and he could feel that his own legs started to tremble.

“God, Sugar, look at this. Do you see how your hole is swallowing your fingers? I’ve never seen anything so greedy before. Tell me, are you a slut, Sugar?”

The words were too much, Peter cried. Daddy figured out every single kink he had. The longing for praise, the desire to be humiliated, and the urge to give the control over to someone else. His walls started to clench, squeezing down on his fingers and although he hadn’t even touched his prostate, Peter was coming.

Peter arched his back, sobbing when the sensation washed over him. His cock was spurting weakly in his hand, but his hole clenched as if it wanted to milk his fingers. Peter could feel his conscious slipping, black spots danced in his vision while his entire body was shaking on the couch. He had never come this hard in his life before, not even during sex. Daddy’s presence alone made him go crazy and his words were just the cherry on top.

When Peter finally came to, his body still buzzing with endorphins, he took a look at the screen and saw that the man had climaxed as well. He was a little sad that he had missed watching Daddy during his orgasm, but if he would be lucky, this wasn’t their last time together.

“Sugar, you were amazing,” the man praised, and Peter blushed a little. His shamelessness was a little embarrassing now that he was spent, but the man seemed to like it, so Peter tried not to dwell on it.

“Thank you, Daddy. You were amazing as well. Do you think we can repeat this one day?”

The man chuckled deeply. “Sure, Sugar, but I don’t wanna hang up yet. Go and clean yourself. You’ve mentioned a job interview in the chat? Tell me about it.”

Peter smiled. This man was everything he had ever dreamed about and one day he wanted to meet him. Daddy wasn’t only looking for sex, although the fun they had together was amazing, Daddy was also interested in him and the thought made him feel warm inside. He had completely forgotten the interview, and even though Daddy had just reminded him, the nervousness had lessened. It was manageable now.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Peter whispered to himself and when he got up to clean himself, he could feel a single tear running down his cheek. Whoever Daddy was, Peter fell for him.

~*~

The next day Peter was sitting in the lobby of Stark Industries, the biggest tech company in the US. His hands trembled a little, but the panic wasn’t overwhelming. Daddy had cheered him up last night, assuring him he would do great and Peter believed him. He had all the qualifications necessary and now he only had to convince Tony Stark. Daddy had told him over and over again, that Peter couldn’t fuck it up if he wanted it so badly. He was burning for it and everyone would see it.

“Mr. Parker? Mr. Stark is waiting for you.” A beautiful blonde woman picked him up and led him towards an elevator. “Just get in. JARVIS will get you to Mr. Stark’s office.”

Peter smiled at her words. However the day will end, he had at least met JARVIS. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

When the elevator doors closed behind him, Peter felt the familiar nervousness coming back, but he concentrated on his breathing. He would do it. He wanted this, he just had to show Tony Stark that he was suitable for the job.”

A ping announced his arrival and he could see a familiar figure sitting behind a huge metal desk. Peter was giddy. He had admired Mr. Stark for years and this would be the time he could finally meet him. The man wasn’t looking at him, occupied with the phone in his hand.

“Mr. Parker, please take a seat.”

Oh, no. Peter froze. He knew the voice, there was no way he was wrong. “Mr. St-Stark,” Peter stuttered, and the two words were enough for the man to look up abruptly. The figure fit, but when Peter’s gaze wandered lower towards the thick thighs straining the suit pants, he knew he was right.

In the end, Mr. Stark confirmed his assumption. “Oh Sugar, I definitely didn’t expect this.”

Peter shuddered, still unsure what to do. Daddy was Tony Stark, the Tony Stark and if he played his cards right, Daddy was also his future boss. What a disaster.

#starker

201 notes · View notes

lost-in-jessiland · 3 years

Text

Jeff From Omegle

You're now chatting with a random stranger.

You: hey

Stranger: Hi

You: whats up

Stranger: M 19

Stranger: Im fine

Stranger: U ?

You: sweet I'm a woman and I'm 10 years older than you. hows life kid?

Stranger: Eh well im growing up

You: how so?

You: I need life advice

Stranger: Feels like life ahead is gonna be hard

Stranger: From me

Stranger: Okay shoot

Stranger: I will try

You: just like what do you mean by growing up? I feel like i need to grow up

You: but what is growing up lol

Stranger: Im figuring it out lol 😅

Stranger: U tell me

You: okay fine, do you work? lol

Stranger: Nope Student

You: major?

Stranger: Electrical

Stranger: Engineering

You: oh so what do those guys do? lol fix laptops or build rockets?

Stranger: Nah Just build system which keeps flow of electricity

You: like what lol

Stranger: Yupp thats true

Stranger: Its sucks

You: it sounds hard lol

You: i didnt go to college

Stranger: Oh

Stranger: Hey can ask u something

You: yeah always

Stranger: A relationship advice

You: okay hit me

Stranger: Are u married ?

You: no lmao

Stranger: Okay

Stranger: When do i know i found that person

You: when you've seen someone at their worst but still think they are amazing. still think they are beautiful.

You: not like grumpy morning, i mean pressures on, balls to the wall at their worst.

Stranger: Damn Wow thats some very mature stuff there

You: haha well thanks

Stranger: Thanks for enlightening me

Stranger: Lol

You: oh i do my best

You: ill be here all week

You: $.25 enlightenments

You: just need ur social security and moms maiden name and I can enlighten your day!

Stranger: 😂😂😂

Stranger: Ur funny

Stranger: Hey u wanna ask something ?

You: thanks. thats my strong suit

You: and whats that young grasshopper

Stranger: U said before u needed a advice

You: nope I just need advice on life. like omg I am a mess

You: you have no idea little one. stay in school and get a good job. find you a beautiful, loyal hunny and settle down lol

You: parties are bogus

You: lol can you build a time machine?

Stranger: Man feels like u had a hard past

You: absolutely not

You: My life aint tragic, thank you for askin

Stranger: Ohh

You: yeah lmao I a mess is all

Stranger: How so

You: omg lemme tell you what

Stranger: Is it a relationship ?

You: what? no? lol its the wrinkles

You: men don't rule girl world lol

You: if youre a smart girl

Stranger: Ohhhh

You: yeaaaaaaaaa

You: is u a virgin?

Stranger: Ahh

Stranger: Well yup

You: i'm sorry grasshopper, but maybe you do a party

You: get out there and put ur dick in something

You: male female it dont matter just perferrably human

Stranger: Well that's the plan

Stranger: 😂😂

Stranger: Ur funny

You: again thank you

Stranger: When did u lost ur Virginity

You: psshy

You: I was 17

You: blow jobs werent enuf anymore

Stranger: Damn

You: after a year I had to give it up

You: or this slut Robbi was gonna steal him

You: her name is ROBBI thats a boys name who sleeps with a chick named after a dude

You: i bet robbi would sleep with you

Stranger: Hahaha 😂

You: for free too

Stranger: Oh thanks thats a very generous offer there

You: shes like a year younger than i am

You: tho she has had twins

You: but hey find a wall and stick to my friend

Stranger: Where u from

Stranger: Us ?

You: the great united states

You: wby

You: you seem like a canadian

Stranger: Israel

You: omg

You: whyyyy

Stranger: Im original from Europe

You: i thought you were cool

You: ughhh Jeff, can I call you Jeff?....Jeff this sucks

You: why Jeff why?

Stranger: 😂😂

Stranger: Yeah go for it

You: Listen Jefffffff

You: dont hack my computer okay

You: I have lots of sick porn you dont wanna see

You: and some pretty awesome cat pics too

You: my cats are awesome'

You: Jeff you would love them

Stranger: I love cats

You: Captain Kush and New Jack are their names

You: they are the best things ever

Stranger: Wow

You: but if you get close they will claw you

You: cause they only like americans

Stranger: Cats are the most cuttest and adorable animal on this planet

You: they are racist cats

You: :/

Stranger: 😂

Stranger: Yeah is that so

You: oh yess

You: if you wear your head cover, they will make sure to rip it to shreds'

You: they wanna see your forhead

You: they get sus when they cant see ur forehead

Stranger: I can imagine that

You: yeah

Stranger: Lol

You: do you like foreheads

You: jeff do u like forheads

Stranger: Yup

Stranger: Its a kink or something lol

You: foreheads are your kink

You: jeff are you lying to me

You: jeff dont lie to me

You: we have a history jeff

You: listen jeff

Stranger: Sup

You: dont lie about kinks

You: those are serious stuff

Stranger: Whats ur ?

You: huh?

Stranger: Im kidding

Stranger: U don't have to answer

You: you didnt ask me anything Jeff

You: Try google translate that shit is legit

Stranger: Ok

You: whats ur ? Jefffffah

You: ?????????????

Stranger: Hmmm

Stranger: Idk

You: whatever Jeff

You: You can Call me other Jeff

You: okay

You: Jeff?

Stranger: Hey other jeff

You: thats my kink

Stranger: Wtf 😂

Stranger: Wow

You: what is other Jeff wearing

You: ;)

Stranger: U asking me ?

You: yeah what am I (other Jeff) wearing when you picture other Jeff?

Stranger: Wait a min

Stranger: Its confusing

You: okay anyting for Jeff

Stranger: Im jeff

Stranger: Lets call u Larry

You: yes and I am other Jeff

You: no

You: thats not sexy

You: I AM OTHER JEFF

Stranger: Okay fine

Stranger: Haha

You: ;)

You: yessss

You: that makes other Jeff happy

You: and horny

You: happy horny other Jeff

Stranger: U horny ?

You: other Jeff is so horny for Jeff

You: thinking about sweating forheads while Jeff thinks of what to say next makes me wanna wipe it off with my hand and make Jeff lick it off of other Jeff's hand.

You: then you can lick the sweat off of other Jeff's forehead

Stranger: Man that's Gross

You: you

You: said

Stranger: Really

You: forheads

You: were your

You: kink

Stranger: Nah

You: other Jeff was trying to be sexy for Jeff

You: the fuck

Stranger: Thast gross 😂

You: DON'T make me GET THE SLUT PADDLE

Stranger: Okay

You: so lick the forehead sweat Jeff

You: or other Jeff will spank you

Stranger: That sounds gross

You: okay fine what syour real kink then

You: JEFF

You: dont lie this time

You: fucker

You: other Jeff can be real sexy

Stranger: Hey can i ask u something?

You: anything Jeff

You: u know that

Stranger: Hey can i ask u something ?

You: omg yes

Stranger: Its kinda sexual

You: yes Jeff

You: JEFF

You: YES GIVE ME THAT QUESTION YES

You: JEFFFF

Stranger: How does a pussy taste like

Stranger: The fluid

You: BAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA

You: hahahaha

You: AHAHHAHAHHAHAH

You: hahahhahahhahahah

You: hahahhahah

You: og

You: DEAR LORD JESUS HELP JEFF

help him see the light

Stranger: Yeah pls

You: you are the worst man I have ever met

Stranger: My pleasure

You: bow to God and beg that he forgives you JEff

You: Jeff

Stranger: Will do

You: may I ask a question?

Stranger: Shoot

You: what do you think pussy juice tastes like Jeff?

Stranger: I dk

You: guess stupid

Stranger: Sweet sour ish ?

You: okay then it tastes sweet sourish Jeff, Hope you like those Sour Patch Kids

cuz thats what ur in for Jeff

You: you honestly got boring so fast Jefff like ugh . why? you suck at being a towel head.

You: islamijeff

You: orwhereeveryousaidurfrom

Stranger: Im not

You: likeugh

You: ihateyoujeff

You: istgihateyou

You: omg

Stranger: Bye then

You: i love you

You: dont leave me

Stranger: Me too

You: you love me JEFF

You: wil you move to america and be with me JEff

Stranger: Nah im bored . Thanks for talking .

You: go to the airport and say my name is Jeff

other Jeff has paid my ticket to Merica.

Stranger: Bye byee

You: b

Stranger has disconnected.

#omegle strangers chatroulette funny jeff troll forlaughs

8 notes · View notes

bxffysxmmers · 3 years

Text

real gods require blood

All gods who receive homage are cruel. All gods dispense suffering without reason. Otherwise they would not be worshipped. Through indiscriminate suffering men know fear and fear is the most divine emotion. It is the stones for altars and the beginning of wisdom. Half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. Real gods require blood. - Zora Neale Hurston

- zeus inspo - hera inspo - poseidon inspo - demeter inspo - athena inspo - apollo inspo - artemis inspo - ares inspo - aphrodite inspo - hephaestus inspo - hermes inspo - hestia inspo - dionysus inspo - persephone inspo - hades inspo - modern gods inspo used in blurbs

first thing's first: everyone in this ad should be between the ages of 22 and 27 with the exception of persephone who should be 22 - 24 and demeter who should be 25 - 27. genderbending is okay with me as long as you run it by me first because i don't want to have a million girls, i want it to be fairly balanced. everything said below should be taken with a grain of salt meaning if you put your own spin on it that is totally fine, the inspo is what matters.

additionally, only one or two characters should be from chicago, because the group is a group of people who are imports to the city and the life they have here so please do with that idea what you will. i did link to some cool pinterest boards with some inspo for a modern take on all of the different gods if you want to look at those but again, it's just for inspiration, please please please make every single one of these guys your own.

now, for the actual ad, basically these guys are something of a found family. through their jobs, parties, socializing, exes, currents, whatever they all met and it was almost instant, that connection, that 'feels like i've known you my whole life' thing that came over them. and so they stuck together, even if it was just a group text or once a year dinner party, they've all stayed in touch ever since despite distance, work, time constraints, and anything else that came between them.

the first pair that met and really started it all were aphrodite and ares. they were on again off again, always a problem with time and where their lives were at, but the love is there. they've been friends since their time in school together and it never let up, that care. the rest of the group swear one day aphrodite will find a way to settle down and be with ares but for now ares deals with the on again off again because sometimes is better than never. and then aphrodite found god here, and another one, and their interconnections grew the group and now here they are, family without being blood, with ties running through them, cutting and caressing them all the same.

from there, feel free to just get with me and we can make it work. i'm going to be making a ship developer for them (including a timeline because it seems necessary so that we have some idea on who, what, when, and how) but the basis is a found family plot with interconnections that made this many people come to mean so much to one another. from there? go wild, get with me on any questions, and please have fun with it. some suggestions for interconnections are below in the applicable boxes but if you don't want to use them just talk to me.

and lastly... if you want to add a god who isn't listed please just let me know! give me a little blurb and we can make this happen. remember the slight dystopian feel and the modern twist but like... yes, please, let's do this, i'm here for it. thanks!!

ZEUS. OPEN.

zeus drinks himself half to death at a bar. he no longer cares for mortals. he has long stopped trying to make this world turn.

suggestions: brother to poseidon and hades. married to hera. enters polyship with hera and hestia after cheating scandal. himbo energy.

HERA. OPEN.

hera no longer praises marriage. instead she talks to the women. she tells them that men always lie, tells them to run. she wishes she could take her own advice.

suggestions: married to zeus. enters polyship with zeus and hestia after cheating scandal. better than you.

POSEIDON. RESERVED FOR TESSA.

poseidon still loves the sea but he could not hate mortals more. he feels the pollution of his domain like a phantom pain, raging that he could not protect his oceans from mortals.

suggestions: brother to zeus and hades. has a crush on demeter. moods like the sea.

DEMETER. RESERVED FOR LUNA.

demeter isn't peaceful. she feels the dying of the earth and with it goes her happiness. she curses the mortals who caused this.

suggestions: older sister of persephone. doesn't approve of hades. has a crush on poseidon. the mom friend.

ATHENA. OPEN.

athena chainsmokes in an alleyway, and glares at ares as bloody knuckles and booted feet connect with battered bodies between them. the fight clubs are their temples now.

suggestions: business partners with hephaestus (queer solidarity, y'all). just doing her best. definitely sapphic. possibly once had a thing with aphrodite.

APOLLO. RESERVED FOR THOMAS.

you find apollo in a nightclub on 55th and 3rd, his prophets writhing in intermittent darkness, bassline pounding in their ears, liqour coursing in their veins, smoke and strobe lights clouding their eyes.

suggestions: twin brother of artemis. pansexual and everyone knows it. always chasing the next high, running from the lows. in a secret relationship with hermes.

ARTEMIS. RESERVED FOR DAPHNE.

artemis spends the night in a jail cell, blood on her knuckles and on her shirt and in her mouth, the smell of metal lingering in the air.

suggestions: twin sister of apollo. sapphic pls. the protector meets the vodka aunt. possibly once had a thing with aphrodite.

ARES. RESERVED FOR KITT.

you watch as ares starts a fight in a dive bar, takes a knife from his pocket and uses it without flinching, smiles as he wipes his blade on his thigh, smashes a bottle on the floor and lights a match.

suggestions: on again off again with aphrodite. in love with aphrodite. not currently with aphrodite. just a boy, made of rage and the inability to express his emotions. looks like he'll kick your ass, will pull athena and artemis off of you in a fight, exhausted that he has to yet again. also requested here.

APHRODITE. FREYA WILDER, ATHENA.

aphrodite drinks your worship straight from your lips and chases it with a scotch, crashes a cigarette, flicks the ash on the floor and leaves without so much as a thank you.

suggestions: on again off again with ares. in love with ares. running from ares. most likely to have slept with everyone in the group, twice. intimacy issues? i do know her. i know her so well. someone help.

HEPHAESTUS. OPEN.

you find hephaestus on college campuses, amongst engineering students. in times like this he is more relevant than ever, growing whilst other gods die. it seems that aphrodite is more keen on accepting his gifts now more than ever.

suggestions: business partners with athena (queer solidarity, y'all). once had a thing with aphrodite. a serious thing. didn't end well. they're totes okay now, for sure, yeah, definitely, mhm. patience is a virtue. stubborn pride is a gift. also requested here.

HERMES. RESERVED FOR TONE.

hermes is in the hustle and bustle of rush hour and the rush of the subway. he is perched atop skyscrapers, surveying the beautiful chaos of it all and lo, it is good.

suggestions: brother to hestia. in a secret relationship with dionysus apollo. running to and for, never from. chaotic good gremlin energy. do not feed after midnight. possibly once had a thing with aphrodite.

HESTIA. OPEN.

hestia mourns broken homes, she waits for her family. she waits in the doorway, arms outstretched and a smile like forgiveness waiting to embrace the siblings whom she know will never return.

suggestions: sister to hermes. pretends she doesn't know about dionysus apollo. doesn't approve of dionysus apollo. enters polyship with zeus and hera after cheating scandal. the mediator. why can't we all just get along?

DIONYSUS. OPEN.

dionysus shoots up in a basement in the seedy side of town. he wants to forget the suffering that has filled his immortal life.

suggestions: in a secret relationship with hermes. "gotta stay high, all the time, to keep you off my mind". heart of gold but no one ever seems to believe it. here for a fun time, not a long time, but thinking about that too much hurts.

PERSEPHONE. RESERVED FOR ARI.

persephone grins when people tremble. she is vengeful and wears flowers in her hair and she will make damn sure that the world will never forget her name.

suggestions: younger sister of demeter. in love with hades. she's beauty, she's grace. she'll punch you in the face.

HADES. OPEN.

hades stalks the streets, hazy in the fog of the streetlamps, and he smiles, because people will always believe in death and worship riches.

suggestions: brother to zeus and poseidon. in love with persephone. can you say trauma? secretly the most well rounded and good hearted of them all. how are you so pure, bro? who sent you?

#renegaderp #site buzz #req

4 notes · View notes

calmlftv · 4 years

Text

4 a.m. - m.c. blurb

description: a fight brings you out on a late night drive, and forgiveness finds its way to you.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: VERY brief scenes/flashbacks involving yelling/hurtful words, a lil bit of angst but a happy ending

w/n: i wrote this while feeling some things during lockdown so pls enjoy! 💕

taglist: @spicycal @castaway-cashton @irwinkitten @n-ctarinenga @notinthesameguey @blackbutterfliescal @ashtonsos @loveroflrh @bestyearssos @treatallwithkindness @bestyearslftv

****

“What did you just say to me?”

You winced, the painful sting of Michael’s words hitting you again as you pressed your foot against the gas pedal, shooting down the road your home was on as you escaped the mess you had left behind. The way Michael’s voice deepened as his volume rose stuck with you, his words making your ears ring as you had fought back tears, silently grabbing your keys and slamming the door on your way out.

The night air was much colder than you had expected but you left your windows down anyway, the chilly air drying the tears as they fell from your face. Your car was deadly silent, the only sound being the wind whipping through your windows as it covered the sounds of your sobs that shook your entire body, the heaves in your chest making your lungs ache as you wept over your steering wheel.

It had been obvious from the way Michael stomped around the house that he was upset, the more obvious sign of him locking his office door after you had gone in to bring him lunch only solidifying the thought in your mind as you sighed. Throughout the day you still tried to reach out to him, texting him to ask if he wanted tea or to play a game together to try and cheer him up, only to be left on read every time, a frustrated sigh escaping you as you finally just left him alone. He only appeared again when you were cleaning up from making dinner, the shuffling of his feet against the floor alerting you to his presence. When you demanded a reason for his mood he snapped, voice rising as he looked at you. It only got worse from there, the two of you screaming at each other until your throats were raw and you were on the verge of tears, leading up to this very moment where you pulled off the road and followed the lightly made tire tracks to your look out.

When you got out of your car you leaned against the door, your eyes taking in the sight of the city lights cutting through the darkness, the neons meeting your eyes as you stood up straight and closed your door, settling on the hood of your car as you tucked your knees against your chest. You wrapped your arms around your legs as you just sat there, staring blankly at the city as you lost yourself in thought once again.

Michael’s face was tinted pinkish red, eyes bloodshot behind the black rims of his glasses. His jaw was clenched and locked, the muscles moving as his hands tugged on the hem of his shirt, the fabric bunching up when he released it and repeated the action. You could tell he wasn’t going to stand down so you took a breath, hands flat against the cool countertop as you exhaled.

“Michael just tell me what’s wrong-”

“Why, so you can be overbearing like always?” He snapped, his voice low now as his shirt went slack again. “Stop trying to fix me, y/n, I’m not some broken project you can piece back together!”

You felt an angry blush cover your cheeks, the feeling moving down your chest and over your body as you spoke, tone sharp and voice loud. “I’m not trying to fix you, asshole, I’m trying to fucking help! I’m your girlfriend, I’m allowed to be worried-”

“I never fucking asked you to worry about me!” He yelled, spit flying from his mouth. “Jesus Christ, you’re just as bad as-”

“What did you just say to me?”

Pain radiated through your body, the ache in your chest returning as you let out another sob. Your face buried against your knees, hating the words you said to him and the ones he said to you, resenting the way your voice shook and rose as you got more and more upset. Your fights were always few and far between, but when they happened they were a messy explosion of emotions, typically ending with the two of you tangled under the sheets of your shared bed as you owned up to your mistakes and gained forgiveness.

This time, though, there was something different radiating from the two of you; maybe it was the stress of the lockdown order getting to you, maybe the amount of time you’ve been forced to spend together was finally taking its toll. Maybe a mix of both, along with the stress of working from home and whatever else could be affecting your love as he was forced to stay away from his friends and family. You knew this was taking a toll on both of you, but you didn’t know it could get worse like this.

You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a car door closing, the sound startling you as you quickly wiped the tears from your eyes. Familiar footsteps came up from behind you as you stared ahead, refusing to look at this person joining you.

“This spots kinda sketch,” a soft voice stated, the phrase being something you’ve heard hundreds of times as Michael walked up beside you, his hands in his pockets as he stood next to your car. The headlights from his Tesla were still shining over you, washing everything in a yellowish tint as it disturbed the pitch darkness around you.

Silence enveloped the two of you as you didn’t answer, still not looking at Michael as he sighed. You sensed movement as he lifted a hand and scratched the back of his neck, his hands tugging down his sweater sleeves until they rested over his palms. He always hated colder nights, a very miniscule pang of sadness hitting you until you brushed it off.

“Petal,” he said softly, his eyes trained on you as you just stared ahead. His heart broke into a million tiny pieces when he saw your puffy eyes, knowing he was the cause of the tear stains on your shirt and jeans and the numb feeling on your shoulders.

He quietly climbed on the hood with you, leaving space between you as he settled in. It was quiet again, this time for much longer as he joined you in looking over the city, the sounds of the night surrounding you both in the warmest hug despite the obvious chill.

“I’m sorry,” Michael stated, voice a bit shaky now as he took a breath. “I crossed a line and...projected my feelings about everything on to you, and that’s not fair. You didn’t do anything wrong, I shouldn’t have used you as my verbal punching bag, and I’m really really sorry.”

You were silent as he finished, taking a minute to mull over your words before you found your voice again, lips parting to speak.

“Am I overbearing?”

Michael paused, not exactly expecting you to ask a question. He chewed the inside of his cheek, weighing his own words before he spoke again, honesty dripping like honey from his tone. “Sometimes you are. But it’s how I know you care.” He paused again, chirping insects filling the gap. “If you were to ever stop checking in and worrying about me, that’s how I’d know I’ve lost you forever.”

More tears threatened to fall at his words and you pushed them away, knowing he always brought you honesty when you asked him questions like that. You took a deep breath and let it out through your mouth, the sound of your own breathing calming you down enough to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you said simply, voice still raw as you winced at the ache. “I know I should have given you some space instead of checking in so much. You would have come to me when you were ready to, and I just kept pushing until you broke.” A slow sigh escaped through your nose before you continued, your eyes moving to Michael as he looked at you. “And I forgive you. But can we talk through things like this? My throat kind of hurts.”

A smile broke through Michael’s face, his teeth shining as he slipped an arm around you and pulled you close. “I promise I’ll talk more. I never want to yell at you ever again.”

You smiled in return, his lips pressing sweet kisses to your forehead as he pulled you into his lap, arms keeping you as close as possible while he bundled you against his chest. Another silence fell, this one much more comfortable as you both watched the city move below you, cuddling on the hood of your car as Michael’s body warmed you up.

After a while Michael yawned, releasing his arms from around you as he stretched them up. You sat up a bit and shivered, the air quickly stealing away the warmth you had just experienced as you started to stand up.

“Probably should head home,” you mumbled, Michael nodding along as you both scooted off the hood, eyes scanning it for any dents or scratches before you moved to your cars. His hands held the door open for you, kisses being stolen before you got into the driver's seat and started the engine, immediately cranking the heat to get warm while Michael went to his, quickly moving out of the way as you both drove back home. Your dashboard clock alerted you the time, the

The drive home was quicker than the drive out, your favorite Mowgli’s tune blasting as the two of you pulled in, both of you getting inside quickly as the dogs bounded over to you. Moose whimpered at Michael’s feet and he chuckled, reaching down to scratch her ears as South sniffed around your feet.

Before you could pick him up for cuddles Michael’s hands were on your hips, tugging you close against him again as he pressed his lips to yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, his squeezing your hips as he held onto you, unwilling to let you go as you stood in the entryway of your home. It took everything within both of you to pull apart, breathless as you held on to each other for dear life.

“I love you, baby,” you said softly, your eyes meeting the beautiful mixture that up your boyfriends, a smile tugging on the corner of his lip as he pressed a kiss to your jaw.

“I love you, too,” he said sweetly, lips moving to your ear. “Maybe I can show you how much in our room?”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly, nodding as he took your hand and led you to your bed, tangling under the sheets again and again until you both finally fell asleep.

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #michael clifford #michael clifford blurbs #blurbs.mc #5sos blurbs #5sos angst

52 notes · View notes

clareisa · 5 years

Text

All I Feel Is you, All I See Is you, All I Need is you... - Kim Yugyeom

Request (requested by @agust-june): Okay this just popped in my head but can you do a one-shot with Yugyeom but it's like the These Nights Mv by Rich Brian and Chungha😁😁😁😁😁

A/N: Hope I captured the idea well, sweetie. Pls, enjoy!

Genre: fluff, romance, suggestive

Words: 2k

- gifs are not mine, credits to rightful owners

- English is not my first language, so please let me kindly know if I did a mistake

The days were getting longer as the summer was slowly coming and the spring season in full bloom. The sun was slowly going down, gradually hiding behind the Namsan hill casting a shadow on one of the parts of the big city. The air was filled with cherry blossom fragrance and a warm breeze running through the streets of Seoul city were making people going out of their homes to the walks around the city or just sit around the shores of the Han river.

You just get out of the work and on your way home you saw many lovely couples making you reminding you of the beautiful face of your precious boyfriend. Yugyeom and you never had much time for each other since both of you were seeking your successful carriers. And both of you really loved your work. And even if the moments together weren’t as frequent as with other couples, those moments were always memorable and cherished the most.

But today you felt like you needed to see him no matter what. You needed to feel him, see him, have your arms around him. You stopped and turned on your heel and started walking to the direction of JYP Building. For a brief moment, you thought you are selfish but it quickly was replaced with the feeling of loneliness and emptiness. Your steps were fast and impatient as you were closer and closer to your goal. You didn’t even notice how wide your smile became as you saw the shining building of the label for which your boyfriend was working for. You quickly ran and entered. Of course, the receptionist already knew you and let you in. Let’s be honest, if she wasn’t your friend it would be much harder to get into the spaces where idols were working.

“Go in!” she told you with a smile.

“Thanks.” you muttered with a smile and she showed you a thumbs up. You were so jealous of her sometimes. She could see her lover every day. Such a lucky guy Mark was.

You quickly ran with a cute smile on your face up the stairs. You knew exactly where to go. You were sure Yugyeom was in the dance studio, once again, working his ass off even when he already perfected all the group’s choreographies. You suddenly ran into a body.

“Hey, Y/N! Nice to see you after such a long time!” Jackson smiled at you.

“Hey, Jackson! Yeah... Yugyeom and I don’t really have time for each other these days.” you blushed from embarrassment.

“He is working super hard. You know how he can be. But don’t worry, he is always talking about you.” he giggled and winked, “We feel that you are here with us more than Mark’s girl.” he said and you blushed again thanks to the words he just told you. You never knew Yugyeom was always thinking about you like that.

“Go! He is in dance studio again. Please, take him out of there. Here is there almost all day. We are starting to worry, seriously.” he laughed and you just nodded, said ‘bye’ and went to the Yugyeom.

You gently opened the door of the room where music was blasting loudly. A tall man was moving around his body, sharp moves exactly and perfectly on the beat. A black tank top making his arms and making some of his tattoos visible. Sweat falling down on his forehead but still going without a signal of exhaustion. For a second you were caught in the fine movements of your lover. It was so smooth but so powerful at the same time, like himself in your relationship.

As the song ended you started clapping, leaning on the wall beside the doors. His eyes and body immediately turned to your direction. Even tho his breathing was fast his face brightened up with the familiar smile you loved the most in this whole world. He ran to you and caught you into a tight hug. Even tho he was sweaty, you didn’t care and hugged him tightly back.

“What are you doing here?” he asked brightly when he broke the hug.

“I needed to see you. I missed you so much.” you said looking down and playing with his fingers.

“I missed you too. Sorry for not being with you recently. I feel horrible but for some reason, I wake up and if I don’t think about you I think about work. Hope you’ll forgive me.” he said and smiled sadly.

“Awwww!” you couldn’t help but coo at his cute face. You took his cheeks between your palms and caressed them softly. “You should stop overworking yourself, love. I might be selfish but sometimes I want you just for myself.” you pecked his lips after.

“Ok, tonight you will get it.” he winked at you.

You giggled, “What do you mean?” your head leaned to the side, confused.

“You’ll see. Wait here. I’m just going to shower, change clothes and will be right back.” he kissed your forehead and ran out of the room with an excited smirk.

You waited for a couple of minutes and the door opened with Yugyeom in a fresh white shirt, black jeans, a pair of combat boots and a leather jacket. You quickly realised that you were staring with an opened mouth so you closed it and looked away. It was a long time that you were together but he always made you blush with simple things like this. And he knew it very good. He walked to you and hugged you from the back, kissing your right cheek softly.

“Ready?” he asked in a deep voice which sent shivers down your spine.

“Let’s go, captain.” you winked at him making him chuckle and shook his head.

He took your hand in his and walked with you to the building garage. As you were walking you just now noticed the backpack on his shoulders. You didn’t pay attention to him because you thought he has his training clothes in it. You thought he would just open his car and you two would go to the dinner or something. But no...

“Yugyeom...? What is this?” you asked in a confused tone.

He chuckled, “A surprise. I bought this beauty a week ago. And when I was buying it I was thinking about a little trip with my love.” he kissed your forehead, took your bag and along with his backpack he placed it into the leather big bag on the back part of the motorcycle.

“W-what? You know how to ride it?” you asked making him laugh.

“Well, of course, I do, my love. Hop on. I know a good camp not so far from Seoul.” he said as he sat on the vehicle.

“I don’t have any clothes! No food! Nothing!” you said nervously.

“Ok, love... first of all, you won’t need any clothes through the night.” he winked, “And second of all I have food. And third, we both missed each other. We are both in work most of the time. Our schedules are so tight and so organised. Let’s do something spontaneous together.” he offered you his hand, “Let’s runaway for a moment together.” he smiled. What you should have done? He was looking at you with those big beautiful puppy eyes and offering you to run away with him like in those romantic films? Of course, you sat behind him without much thinking and hugged his waist tightly.

“Tonight is only ours, baby,” he whispered to you.

With that, he started the engine and with you behind him, he fastly set off to the late evening. The sun was already down, just the sky on the horizon was pinkish with the little touches of an orange colour. The wind was messing up with your hair but you were just giggling. The warm air in this speed was more like a cold breeze but you didn’t care since the heat of Yugyeom body was warming you up. You felt more happy and free that your whole life. How perfect this was? You just didn’t feel a single sad molecule in your body.

As you came out of the city you already felt the air being more fresh and clean. Nature around was breathtaking, you just was looking around with the biggest smile on your face. No cars on the road, just you two riding through the escalating darkness that was getting thicker and thicker every minute. As you saw the light of the camp in the distance, Yugyeom slowed down the motorcycle and the slow speed was the best thing. This moment was already intimate but when you just could lean into his back and lovingly hold him you couldn’t be happier.

Yugyeom stopped the motorcycle right before the camp. You almost stopped breathing. The camp was in the hills and you could see a Seoul’s city lights in the distance from the beautiful viewpoint. There were small wooden cabins around the camp. Yugyeom secured the motorcycle next to one of those cabins and smiled at you.

“My friend has this little camp and he told me that one cabin is free tonight. Let’s go.” he said with your bags in his hands. You happily followed him. It was really small. Just simple double bed and that was it. But you didn't know that Yugyeom had other plans. Yugyeom took the mattress from the bed and moved it out to the little wooden terrace attached to the cabin.

You started giggling, “What the heck are you doing, Gyeom?” you asked as he was placing all the blankets and pillows on the mattress

He looked up at you, “We never slept under the stars. And this is a perfect opportunity since I couldn’t find a tent.” he smiled innocently at you. You playfully rolled your eyes but laid down next to him when he was done.

“See? I don’t have any pyjamas. How can I sleep now?” you asked him with a raised eyebrow.

He smirked as he started playing with the bottom of your shirt, “I told you that you won’t need clothes for the night.” he said and kissed you. He went for a hot makeout season right from the start, lifting your shirt up and putting your hands underneath his shirt on his hot skin and abs.

“Hey!” you broke the kiss with red cheeks. “Stop, somebody will see us. You said there are other people too.” you whined.

He smirked, “No one will see us when I’ll do this.” he said and turned off the lights of the cabin, leaving you in darkness. The only light was the silver soft light of the full moon. Yugyeom immediately kissed you again and climbed above you. His mouth was glued to your lips as he desperately started grinding his crotch against yours like he does in some choreographies. He missed you and your body. He craved you and only you. He was swallowing your whimpers every time he brushed your sensitive parts against each other. You were shy and he loved how he could always corrupt you, even in the middle of nature. You could feel him proudly smirking into the kiss every time he made you release a whimper, whine or a moan. It was boosting his ego and sending all the blood and senses right down between his legs.

“All I Feel Is you, All I See Is you, All I Need is you... I’ll be your baby tonight, my lady.” he smirked and kissed you once again slowly taking off the clothing that was covering your body, You were the only woman who could make him do things like this, the only woman who could make him this wild...

#got7 #got7 fluff #got7 yugyeom #kim yugyeom #yugyeom #got7 scenarios #got7 oneshot #kpop fanfiction #yugyeom oneshot #got7 smut

59 notes · View notes

halorocks1214 · 4 years

Note

Please can you do for the character ask do Kayo of the Mechanic? 😊

*meme voice* Both. Both is good

Thanks for the ask dear anonymous!

Kayo

Favorite thing about them: She is incredibly determined and strong-willed in her beliefs, all while being badass about it! Honestly, if I had at least a fourth of the confidence she had I would not be a nervous wreck 75% of the times I am in a public space lol Least favorite thing about them: Kayo, pls, you are worse than Scott in the chill-pill category. It is physically impossible to be allergic to fun, just take a deep breath for me, okay? It’s gonna work out eventually, I promise Favorite line: “Kaneer.” “You know my name?” “I know lots of things. Bye-bye!” brOTP: Alan and Kayo’s relationship had nice development imo, if I’m not just randomly coming up with it in my head lol. Alan learning over the series how to be more serious while still keeping his joyful edge, meanwhile Kayo learned that it was okay to let go and be less serious and that it wouldn’t hurt to be loose every once in a while, etc etc OTP: Again, it’s more of a “ship I like” since I just do not ship in this show, point blank period. There’s a lot of family stuff to explore with these characters so I mainly focus on that, but I mentioned her and Scott in Scott’s post when they’re not written as siblings so I guess this still applies here! nOTP: I got into this series because of the Tracy boys and their stories, so when it comes to her adoptive-sibling status it really goes 50/50 for me. If a story has it, great! I love adoptive-family stuff! If it doesn’t, that’s also cool! She can still be a really neat and interesting character if written correctly! But in the stories that heavily focus on her adoptive status then yeah, that’s kinda a no bueno for me Random headcanon: Closet stuffed animal lover. 100%. Alan figured it out because, of course, he did, and every time there’s a new rabbit outside her door she doesn’t know whether to fingerprint it to find out who’s behind it or just gleefully take the gift and shove it in her secret stash (hint: it’s usually the latter) Unpopular opinion: I’m not sure how “unpopular” this really is, buuuuut after the 2004 movie introduced me into Thunderbirds and getting into TOS after fully immersing myself into TAG I miss Tin-Tin. She was such a cool lady and there’s a really cool Tin-Tin in TAG concept that I love to bits (that I’ll reblog in a sec) that made me think about her again and I just! I like Kayo, I really do, but Tin-Tin is in my heart forever and always Song I associate with them: “Miss Jackson” by Panic! at the Disco Favorite picture of them:

I’m saying this one because this is such a good scene and really summarizes the best parts of Kayo’s character for me

The Mechanic

Favorite thing about them: Always gotta love a good ‘ol redemption arc! Cold, sinister people learning that they deserve love and forgiveness after being mistreated for so long is a weak point of mine so I gotta give credit there <3 Least favorite thing about them: Reaaaaally would have enjoyed at least a little more backstory, or exposition. Or even screentime. I feel like a lot of characters got the “lack of screentime” curse in S3 and if any dude needed some it was him. Kinda sucks considering what an interesting character he is! Favorite line: “You’re busting me out?!” “Ironic, isn’t it?” brOTP: Grandma and The Mechanic had such nice, if short, scenes together, but for a hypothetical brOTP, Virgil and The Mechanic would be fuuuun. Virgil teaching him mundane hobbies like painting and music and The Mechanic talking about engineering stuff with Virgil that the Tracy might not know about OTP: I mean... I don’t really have any? Brains/The Mechanic is cute, I’ll admit, but because of my general lack of interest in him I can’t really point fingers at any character in particular and be like “Now kiss!” nOTP: For rhe same reasons listed under OTP (i.e. not a lot of interest), I can’t point fingers at another character and say “How’s about no” either lol Random headcanon: Grandma teaches him knitting. That’s it. That’s the headcanon. All the Tracys have some kind of sweater before the year ends, and their reactions/emotions towards them range wide and long Unpopular opinion: This isn’t so much an unpopular opinion as it is an unpopular musing, but if he was written out of S3′s plot, would much have changed? Could they have gone with a “the Tracys figure it out by themselves” approach and would that have been better/worse? Idk, just some rambling Song I associate with them: “Nothing Worth Saving” by DANGERKIDS Favorite picture of them:

There goes my bby. Kick their asses for us please and thank you

Ask me about other fictional characters!

#answered ask #anoynmous #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #kayo kyrano #the mechanic

6 notes · View notes

thebestpersonherelovesbucky · 5 years

Note

Can we possibly get another titanic snippet pls lol?

lol sure!

Here you are!

A cool wind blows across the deck, pushing Bucky’s hair into his face. He doesn’t bother brushing it away again as he follows along with his mother and Alex on their guided tour of the upper deck. He’s not sure that everyone is lucky enough to be given a tour by Captain Smith and Mr. Stark themselves, but, well, that’s just one of the many advantages he’ll have being married to Alex.

That’s what he’s trying to concentrate on today. As Winifred so kindly reminded him earlier, he’s lucky to be marrying Alex. Alex will take care of them--of him. Yes, it’s true that Bucky’ll have to give up some of his hopes and dreams, but they don’t matter. They never really did. They were always the dreams of a child, and if he wants everyone to stop treating him like a child, he must first stop acting like one.

James Buchanan Barnes has been raised to behave and act like a gentleman, and that’s what he’s going to be. That’s what he is. A gentleman. It’s time to fully embrace that.

He’s grown up with great fortune and because of Alex he’ll still have it. When he and Alex have children -- no doubt Alex will hire someone to carry a child for him to spread his seed and have his family name carried on -- they will grow up with all the privileges and niceties they deserve. The finest Philadelphia society has to offer.

Of course, with Alex as their father, any children they might have will be brought up with the highest expectations. Bucky will be expected to raise them strictly, to be seen and not heard, to adhere to their roles handed down by generations. Maybe, with Bucky’s guidance, they’ll learn that money is not everything. Maybe he can help them before the need for wealth consumes them entirely--becomes their will and motive for everything. Maybe they’ll grow up with a passion for something. The arts. Music or poetry or paintings. Anything that will make them see there’s more to the world than what’s in the bank.

And maybe, just maybe, it’ll mean something.

“Now I’m curious.” Winifred’s voice pulls Bucky out of the future with children and back on the Titanic where they’re getting a tour. “Why do you have two steering wheels?”

Mr. Stark grins and pats one of them. “This one is mainly used need the shore. You see--”

“Excuse me, Captain.” A steward comes in with a small piece of paper. “Another ice warning. This one from the Noordam.”

“Thank you, Sparks.” Captain Smith tucks the paper into his outer pocket. When he notices Bucky looking at him -- Bucky can’t help feeling concerned if this man is bringing him another ice warning -- he answers with a gentle smile. “Oh, not to worry. Very normal for this time of year.” He shares a grin with Mr. Stark. “In fact, I’ve just ordered the last boilers lit. We’re speeding up.”

A smile pulls up on Winifred’s face, that answer reassuring any worry she may’ve shared. Probably the first thing she and Bucky’ve seen eye-to-eye on in recent months. While she clearly doesn’t give this matter another thought, as they go on and Mr. Stark shares with them the number of lifeboats that’re onboard, new concern blossoms through Bucky’s heart and mind.

It aches through him, cracking his heart through the middle when they pass a little boy playing with his father. They’re tossing a top across the deck, the child seeking approval with a big smile on his face. For a second, a mere blip of a heartbeat, Bucky’s reminded of his own father. Of his grin when they played. When Bucky beat him at chess the very first time. When they went to the park to fly the kite they made together. When Bucky’s life made sense and an ocean of possibilities stretched before him.

Rather than dwell on a past that no longer matters, Bucky says, “Mr. Stark, forgive me…” interrupting whatever he’d been saying to Alex. Bucky receives a stern look from Alex for that, but Mr. Stark simply gives him the attention with a kind smile. “I’ve done the sum in my head and… if I’m not mistaken, with this amount of lifeboats times the number of passengers you mentioned before…” Bucky quickly runs through the numbers again to double-check his math. “Forgive me, but there doesn’t appear to be enough boats for everyone on board.”

Mr. Stark’s grin widens, as though impressed by Bucky’s ability to multiply those numbers so quickly in his head like that. At least that’s one person here. Both Winifred and Alex are watching him with a warning in their eyes.

“Not by half, actually,” Mr. Stark replies. “You miss nothing, do you, James? In fact, I put in these new type of davits,” he explains, pointing the where the lifeboats are at the side of the deck, “which would take an extra row of boats inside this one. But, it was thought by some that it would make the deck look too cluttered. So, I was overruled.”

By his tone of voice -- somewhat hard and definitely firm -- Bucky guesses that he’s still not happy with the decision regarding the lifeboats. Up ahead, Alex taps one of them with his walking stick.

“Waste of space on an unsinkable ship as it is if you ask me.”

Well, Bucky thinks, nobody asked you.

“Yes, but,” Bucky says, “if there’s--”

Bucky snaps his mouth shut when Alex turns a look on him. There’s still a smile on his face, one that probably looks sweet and kind and normal for one to wear when curious about what someone has to say, but Bucky knows that’s not what it is. Alex wants him to shut up. If Bucky doesn’t want a repeat of this morning, he had better behave.

“Sleep soundly, young James,” Mr. Stark answers his unspoken concern. “I’ve built you a good ship--strong and true. She’s all the lifeboat you need.” Bucky offers his best smile in return, lagging behind a few steps to keep out of Alex’s way. “If we just go this way,” Mr. Stark instructs to the group, “we can visit the engine room next.”

Fighting back a round of tears, Bucky reminds himself why he’s doing this. This will keep his mother out of a workhouse. This will keep his sister in the best boarding schools. This will keep his family from being torn apart.

Bucky inhales a rough, steadying breath, and just as he goes to take a step to follow everyone, someone takes his hand and turns him around. He gasps, his heart speeding up, when he sees Steve there, finger to his lips as he beckons Bucky to come with him into the gym they’d toured just a little while ago.

“Steve,” Bucky whispers as Steve shuts the door behind them. “This is impossible. I can’t see you.”

That doesn’t deter Steve at all. Only, it’s different than Alex. While Alex would never release his grip upon Bucky, Steve does so right away. Alex’s eyes never looked at him like he meant everything to him. They never saw him as anything at all, really--even in the beginning, when Bucky first believed the mask and the words spoken as rose petals with nothing but thorns underneath. Not Steve, though. Steve’s eyes glow with sunlight. Bright and warm, and Bucky would give anything to chase glow.

“I just need to talk to you, Bucky,” Steve says, those eyes pleading. “Please. Just for a second.”

Bucky needs to tuck his lip under his teeth to keep it from trembling. He shakes his head. If Alex or Winifred catch them, it’ll mean a world of trouble. For both of them.

“I can’t, Steve.” His voice almost cracks. “I’m… I’m engaged, Steve. I’m marrying Alex. I… I love Alex.”

The words burn through Bucky’s throat, coming out like smoke and ash. They sail through the air, thick and poisonous, and Bucky’s not sure who he’s trying to convince with them.

“Bucky…” Steve whispers. Presses a gentle hand to the side of Bucky’s neck. “Bucky, you’re no picnic.” He snickers. Keeps looking at Bucky as though that fact only makes him want to be near him more. “Okay? You’re… you’re a spoiled little brat, even. But…” A hopeful smile touches his lips. Lips so soft. So gentle. Bucky wonders what they’d feel like against his skin. “But under that, you’re the most… the most amazing, astounding, wonderful person I’ve ever met and I--”

“No, Steve.”

This time, Bucky’s voice does crack. He can’t let Steve continue saying these wonderful things. There’s too much at stake. Bucky can’t afford to have Steve open his heart to the things he cannot have.

“Please, Bucky,” Steve implores, taking off the bowler hat upon his head and running fingers through his hair. “Lemme try an’ get this out. You-- you’re amaze…” A shaky laugh rolls across those soft lips. “I’m not stupid. Okay, I’m not an idiot. I know how the world works. I’ve got…” He pats his chest pocket. “I’ve got ten clams to my name and nothin’ to offer you and I know that, Bucky, I do. I understand. But I’m too involved now. I’m with ya to the end of the line, remember?”

When Bucky says nothing, because he can’t -- if he does, the tears burning through his eyes will spill over and roll steadily down his cheeks -- Steve lowers his head.

He sighs, softly. Says, “I just can’t walk away without knowing you’ll be all right.” His eyes find Bucky’s again. “That’s all I want.”

“Well.” Bucky tightens his jaw. So many emotions have gathered in his throat. He can’t figure out how to sort through them. “I’ll be fine. I am fine. Really.”

Steve looks over him for a second. Meets his eyes with the devotion and desperation playing together. He pets a hand over Bucky’s head. Sweet and adoring. Nothing condescending about it. Bucky wishes to lean into the touch but doesn’t dare.

“Really?” Steve questions. “I don’t think so. You have a fire inside of you, Bucky, and they’re tryin’ to smother it.” He’s pointed to the side, at the world he knows is trying to keep its tight grip around Bucky’s soul. “They’ve got you trapped, Bucky, and you’re gonna die if you don’t break free. Maybe not right away, because you’re strong.”

Strong? Steve thinks he’s strong? Bucky tries to remember the last time he felt strong. The last time someone made him feel strong. Nothing comes to mind. Not until the moment he met Steve.

“But sooner or later,” Steve says, capturing Bucky’s cheeks between strong, artist’s hands, “that fire that makes you you, the fire that I love, it’s gonna burn out and who knows what ashes will be left.”

Lip trembling, Bucky steps away from Steve’s comforting touch. He needs to keep this door locked up tight and crawl back through the window that got him here in the first place. Yes, there might be jagged edges and shards of glass on that side, but it’s his responsibility to keep himself from bleeding. He can do that by behaving the way he’s meant to. As a gentleman. As Alex’s husband. As the well-bread, respectable son he’s been brought up to be.

“It’s not up to you to save me, Steve.”

Steve’s face falls. His hand lifts again, like he means to touch Bucky’s face again but refrains from getting near enough to do so. He looks so dejected. Heartbroken, even. But Bucky needs to make him understand. They were never meant to be.

#anon love #kellsreplies #stucky #titanic #titanic au #fic in progress #Anonymous

30 notes · View notes

tunasama13 · 5 years

Text

Fading ⚡️ (BNHA fic)

“Can you say the same about young Bakugo? Who was kidnapped in the incident?”.

“What if the League manages to manipulate him into becoming a villian?”

Shota stood up, Kan looked over at him, worried. “He’s trying to provoke you, don’t listen to him.”.

Bowing down, he muttered, “I take full responsibility for what happened to my student, (I don’t remember what he says here but whatev’s)”.

Another reporters face contorted, his hands sparked and he suddenly reached forward. The man who had just interrogated the group looked over and his eyes widened.

“YOU WOULD HELP THAT VILLAIN TO BE?!”

“WATCH OUT!”

—————————————

The 5 students looked on in horror at the scene that unfolded on the TV, Bakugo screamed in the Leagues hideout. At home, the students that weren’t on the mission either immediately got up; such as Tsuyu Asui, Miyo Aiyuki, Mina Ashido, Denki Kaminari, Mezo Shoji, and Ochaco Uraraka; the others stared on helplessly.

‘I’m not going through this again, has that reporter gone out of his mind?! He almost struck Sensei!’ Miyo thought as she ran towards the bus to the Kamino Ward.

‘I managed to see a bit more of it, our three teachers were unharmed but I saw the big guy stomp towards Sensei... he was completely caught off guard...’ Jirou had met up with Uraraka and Tsuyu as they ran to the bus.

—————————————

The five other students watched what was happening, on the monitor, the larger reporter was holding their teacher up around the chest in front of the crowd, who had started to scurry away. “What... what are you doing???!...” Shota tried activating his quirk to stop his quirk from being activated, and he suddenly felt an intense pain shoot through his abdomen before he could even feel his hair rise. Shota bit his tongue, trying to keep from screaming, out of the corner of his foggy vision, he saw Kan trying to intervene.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you Vampire, if you move, i’ll up the volts until one zap just might kill your little friend here... and then your next...” The reporter smiled as Shota went limp in his grip, trembling. Kan had no choice, this man was fast, if he tried to restrain him, then his colleague could die right there.

“Yaomomo! Iida! Go help them!” Deku yelled as he saw his teacher get shocked right in front of him. The two nodded, and Deku, Todoroki, and Kirishima rushed off to find Bakugo. As the class representatives ran, they saw the building the conference was being held in.

“Momo! Go on my shoulders!” Iida yelled, Momo complying as she quickly grabbed around his neck and both were blasted off as Engine activated.

Shoji had met everyone who ran out of their houses to try and aid in the situation on the bus, as it headed to the building the conference had gone haywire. As the bus stopped near it, Tsuyu yelled, “COME ON!” Before everyone rushed out.

They had been running for a while when they found Iida and Momo there already, without questioning their out of the ordinary appearances or why they had gone separately. They opened the door to find people rushing out by them, a female journalist stopped to yell, “Please! If you can, call 911!” Iida took out his phone and dialed the number as his other classmates rushed in. At the door of the conference, Miyo could see that the angry reporter had turned around, possibly to watch the two teachers who weren’t in his grip to keep them from stopping him. Momo had turned around to tell everyone, “Okay, on my mark, Miyo, you are going to summon a forcefield to protect us all, Iida will run and save Sensei, Tsuyu will use her tounge to restrain him, and Kaminari will find a way to give him a taste of his own medicine.” Momo, without thinking accidentally bumped open the door.

The reporter, startled, let some electricity go and this time, Shota couldn’t stop himself from screaming as a more painful power surge went through him. Momo gasped, tearing up at hearing his cry of pain, Kan yelled, “What do you kids think you’re doing! Run!” Nezu agreeing, Miyo screamed, “YOU BASTARD!” As Mina had to stop her from lunging forward. Shota was trembling even harder than before, reaching out to his kids.

“G-g-get... o..out o-of h...h-here...” He wheezed.

“We aren’t leaving you here!” Uraraka cries, Kaminari noticing when the reporter starts reaching for the already shocked man again. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Miyo responds to this. The reporters hand sparks, Shota looking slightly to the side and makes a small whimper, he’s too exhausted to use his quirk, he can’t focus enough.

“Let him go!” Momo and Jirou remember something as Mina yells, this was exactly what could’ve happened to Kaminari if Snipe hadn’t saved his ass. “Why should I? He wants to help a future villain, so why not make him see what happens when you stick with someone evil?” The man smirks, and in a huge burst of lightning strikes the man he’s holding.

“AAAAAAAAAGGGHHHH!!!!” Shota screams in pain, throwing his head back, before he is suddenly launched to the side when the reporter loses his balance. “SENSEI!!!” Iida yells as he kicks the electric bearing man’s knee in. The reporter howls, falling to his side, Shoji is quick to get Shota before he hits the ground. Kan and Tsuyu are quick to restrain the man before he can shock anyone else, Miyo rushes out of Mina’s grip, heading to Shoji.

Everyone else follows, Jirou immediately checking out Shota’s condition, seeing as he is incredibly pale and shaking. His pupils are also incredibly dilated. “Someone, get help! He’s going into shock!” Uraraka yells, Nezu running off to see if there is anyone with medical experience nearby. Shota yelps when Jirou tries to lift his legs up, “Jirou, don’t, I read somewhere that if it causes the victim too much pain, you shouldn’t.” Miyo whispers. Kaminari then mentions, “Hey, I know you probably want to yell at us, but don’t move. That asshole left a number on you...” as Shota tries to get up. “W-why... why a...are y-you h-h-here?...” He mumbles in a tiny voice. Miyo finally breaks, tears pool at the corners of her eyes and then spill.

“I-i... I wasn’t going to let you get hurt again...” She cries as Mina hugs her. Shota smiles a tiny bit, managing to reach his students shoulder, but then his arm suddenly drops as he starts having trouble breathing. “Oh my god... we can’t wait for the ambulance! We have to get him to the hospital, now!” Iida orders.

“Sensei, this might hurt a little...” Shoji then stands up, the man in his arms hisses as the pain starts flaring up again, then he starts shivering as the cold part of the shock starts hitting him. “Wait... does anyone have a blanket?” Miyo hiccups between silent sobs. Momo’s expression lights up, then without warning, she creates... something like a blanket?

“Here Shoji, he probably needs it...” Momo murmurs.

They set off, Tsuyu leaving the adults to deal with the crazy reporter. “Is... he going to be alright?” She ribbits, Kaminari answers with, “We don’t know... he might be if we get him to the hospital in time...”. Tsuyu gives a sad ‘kero’ and Uraraka whimpers.

“Guys... w...what’s going o-on with...with the co-costumes?” Momo and Iida looked at each other, laughing nervously. “Don’t worry about it... just try to calm down...” Miyo murmurs, walking beside Iida.

“There’s a hospital really close to here, at the most it should take us about 15 minutes to get to the lobby...” Momo says, Shoji looks down and then mutters, “I don’t think he can hold out for that long, we need a quicker way!” He looks up again, Uraraka getting an idea.

“Maybe Miyo can summon a forcefield and I can make it float? I’ll have to stay behind though...” She presses her fingers together to prove her point. Miyo looks down at her hands.

“I don’t know how large I can make those forcefields... besides, I might be running out of water that my quirk needs to work...” She states calmly, “I’m also afraid that the sudden pull up into the air might accidentally hurt Sensei even more...”.

“Mi-miyo... don’t b-be afraid... of-of hu-hurting... m...e... just b-because o..of t-the USJ in-incident a...and everything t-that h-h-happened with m-my injuries... pl-please... d-don’t be s-scared of w-what y...your quirk c-can do...” Shota looks determined, and exhausted. Miyo, for the first time, smiled and whispered, “I promise... I’ll try my best!” She then closes her eyes and imagines a bubble expanding around her friends, just like Shiashi had taught her, then she opened her eyes when she heard, “NOW! OCHACO!” Then they started floating.

“Miyo... you... you did it!” Iida yelled, taking her by the hand that was outstretched towards him. “Sensei... don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control now...” Miyo quietly says.

Shota manages to give a weak thumbs up before he jolts, Kaminari’s head whipping around to recognize that the electricity was still rocketing through him. “Uhh, we’re going to have to hurry guys???” Kaminari yells as Jirou turns around. “He’s right, as long as he’s still getting shocked it could still stop his heart!” Iida orders, rubbing Miyo’s thumb when she visibly starts to pale a bit.

“Guys, I swear to god if he dies... I’ll never forgive myself!” Miyo grunts, from the strain of holding so much weight in one bubble. Mina starts to encourage her to look out for the hospital while Jirou sees how small Shota looks cradled in Shoji’s arms. “Kero...” Tsuyu tears up when she hears a small gasp. Iida looks to the side while Mina talks to Miyo, noticing the hospital rising into his vision in the distance. Putting Ochaco on the phone.

“We’re almost there! Just a little longer Miyo-chan!” He yells, startling Shoji. In response to his little flinch, Shota gasps as another shock runs through him. Jirou can’t take it anymore, she walks up beside Shoji, noticing how tired her teacher looks. He didn’t deserve this, Bakugo didn’t deserve any of the criticism he got for being so furious during the Sports Festival.

“Look at me Sensei, wait, here”, Jirou takes his hand, then sees how his eyes are unusually foggy, she takes her other hand and puts it to Shoji’s shoulder. “Just hold onto me, alright? You’re gonna get through this, I promise...” Tsuyu breaks, falling to her knees and sobbing while Kaminari rushes to her side. “We’re not gonna let you go out like this, you hear me?” Shota’s eyes are following the concerned expression on Jirou’s face as Shoji pulls him a little closer to his chest.

Jirou tears up, “Damn it... I know you’ll pull through, you have to!” Momo walks up to Jirou, Mina following. “Come on... you’re the bravest hero I know and we need you here with us!” She closes her eyes as a tear slips out.

“I-i don’t know if you can think about it right now... but... remember the USJ?” Tsuyu cries, “You... you saved my life there! Even though you were beat up pretty badly, and i’d sworn never to let... you almost suffer the same fate!” Kaminari hugs the frog girl as she breaks down into loud sobs.

“Miyo! I see it! Now, Ochaco! Let us down slowly!” The forcefield starts to descend gently. After touching the ground, the field disperses, Mina’s feet slipping from under her, causing her to fall on her back. “ACK!” She yells, everyone snickering a little when she sheepishly rubs the back of her head. The mood, however, is suddenly purged.

“Uh oh...” Momo gasped, Miyo looking over and her heart sinking as she saw that Shota was unconscious. “NO!” Jirou squeezes his hand until his eyes flutter open with a ‘Nngh...’, curling up against Shoji’s chest once more. “Hey... you can do it, just stay awake...” Shoji murmurs, Kaminari still hugging Tsu.

Jirou couldn’t really believe what she was seeing, her teacher; who was always so strong for them; was huddled up against Shoji’s chest, holding Jirou’s hand, struggling to stay awake and keep from fading. Jirou came to the conclusion they had to be strong for him now, that’s what heroes did.

Heroes stayed strong for anyone, even other heroes.

Before they all knew it, they were in the lobby of the hospital. Iida ran up to the front desk, Miyo following. “We need a doctor! Now!” Iida yells, the lady at the desk giving a concerned glance. “Oh goodness, right away, can I just have your-“, the others barge in, Momo at the front of the group.

“We don’t have time! He’s going to die if we stall any longer!” Iida then looks back where Shoji is holding Shota. A few nurses passing by gasp as they see the pro hero crumpled against the white haired boys chest, eyes halfway open and blinking slowly. He is still taking stuttering breaths and he jolts every 5 seconds, Jirou lets go of his hand.

The secretary gasps right along with the others, “Oh my... of course sir!” She then calls in a ‘Plan: Blue’ and all of the sudden, a swarm of doctors with a stretcher rush into the lobby. Taking Shota from Shoji’s arms and after placing him on the stretcher, they flow out, one by one. Leaving the kids dumbfounded as their teacher is whisked away without any warning at all.

Finally, he’ll be safe, the doctors will take care of him. Feeling like weight was lifted off of her shoulders, Miyo falls to her knees, and lets the sobs break through. In a split second, everyone is joining her on the ground, and anyone who wasn’t crying, definitely was now.

—————————————

A few days later....

Miyo felt that huge weight again when the two teachers visited Shiashi’s place to see if he was okay with letting his sister stay in a dorm at UA. She walked downstairs to see Shota, looking completely normal (except for the bandages she can see going up to his neck), talking with Shiashi, All Might sat beside him, in his ‘Small Might’ form, looking at her.

“Ah, Young Aiyuki, it’s nice to see you again...” All Might gives a sigh of relief, glad the girl wasn’t too affected by the incident a few days ago. He as well remembered the sinking feeling he felt when he heard from Hizashi that the younger teacher was in the hospital, nearly dead when he got there. Shota had narrowly missed dying right in Shoji’s arms. However, a pretty degrading after effect was that he had to take it easy or else his heart could spiral out of control again.

“Sensei..?” The girl murmured, Shota looked over at her, Shiashi following. “Oh! Imōto-chan, you’ve finally come down!” He greets, Hanako yelling from the kitchen where she sits with Kira, “GOOD AFTERNOON OBA-SAN!” Kira shushing her.

Miyo gives a shaky step forward, Shiashi getting a little worried, Miyo then suddenly rushes forward, and without warning, Shota is suddenly tackled into an embrace. “Um, Aiyuki-“ He is interrupted by, “I’m so glad your alright, you scared me.” In the usual monotone voice Miyo had. All Might snickers, the Nerve Hero gives a warm smile. “Out of all the ‘I’m so glad your ok’ nonsense I’ve gotten all day, I think that one was the best one i’ve gotten so far.”. Miyo then mentions, “You helped me back there, thank you...”.

“No problem kid...”.

#bnha fanfiction #minor Iida x OC #this took FOREVER #based on the idea what if the UA press conference went wrong?#BNHA OC #Aiyuki Miyo #Force

4 notes · View notes