#ive mostly calmed down i can make it again

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WASTELAND, BABY (I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: at the beach house, you can pretend that nothing is wrong. you know that avoidance will only get you so far, but you can't help but want to treasure the time you have with dazai... you don't know how much longer you'll have before everything catches up to you. until then, you'll enjoy the peace that you have, even if dazai does seem oddly intent on ruining it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: another week of minimal activity </3 sorry lil love bugs ive been so busy. BUT take civzai6!! and treasure it because this is the only chill chapter for quite a bit!! HAHAHHH no but for real i enjoyed this chapter so much that i literally had to split it in two because i wrote too much HAHAH, same goes for the next chapter ;) as always, reblogs are very 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).

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from the other series - if you guys read waterloo, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole chapter just because there's 2-3k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the FINAL scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in waterloo, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited - i've been busy. dazai has some insecure thoughts. he's also actively being self destructive. this is an easy chapter—calm before the storm. not much to warn. i don't think i'm missing anything but pls lmk if i am, i didn't have time to reread

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, praise, dazai cries a bit, lil bit of body worship (f->m), sub!dazai, mostly pretty vanilla - short and sweet

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

Dazai wakes up to the sun peeking through the blinds of the bedroom he’d shared with you and the scent of pancakes wafting through the air. His lips twitch up into a small smile as he stretches, letting out a soft sigh as he sinks into the comfortable mattress. 

He thinks he slept better last night than he’s slept in his entire life. He’s always been plagued with restlessness, he can hardly ever sleep and when he does, he’s haunted by faces he’d rather not see again: Oda’s bloodstained face looking up at him as he dies in Dazai’s arms, the glassy eyes of his mother as she swings slowly from a rope, his aunt’s twisted expression as she throws Dazai to the ground in Suribachi, the hurt look in Ango’s eyes as he took all of the vile insults that Dazai spat at him. Dazai dreads sleeping about as much as the average person dreads ever having to confront their worst fear.

But last night? Last night, Dazai slept peacefully. He fell asleep curled up in your arms, laying on top of you—you’d still been awake, tracing patterns on his back through his shirt. You’d been distracted by something all day yesterday; from when you picked him up at the hospital to when you laid down with him in bed that night, something had been bothering you. Your phone had been buzzing nonstop, call after call and text after text—you didn’t bother checking it but he could tell it was stressing you out.

He tried to ask you about it but you blew it off every time. Dazai supposes he should have expected that from you but your evasion was still irritating, especially after the conversation the two of you had yesterday. You had the nerve to try to distract him with movies and figuring out how to bake a cake with him; he had the nerve to fall for the weak attempts at distracting him.

He yawns as he pushes himself to a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and tossing the blankets off. He tugs at the short sleeves of his t-shirt, feeling a bit too exposed. The bandages covering his wrists and arms are frayed—he’ll need to grab new ones to rewrap them soon, he hasn’t checked the bathroom to see if you had any stored. His shoulders ache a bit, he winces as he rolls them before making his way out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen.

You’re standing at the stove, hand on your hip as you frown down at whatever you’re cooking. You’re still dressed in your pajamas—a thin black cami and loose shorts—and Dazai yearns, he feels it deep in his chest, feels it as a lump in his throat and a heaviness in his stomach. Because he could… he could picture it… he could picture a future with you.

He could imagine waking up to you every day—you’d always wake up before him because you somehow always wake up at the ass crack of dawn. You’d usually be dealing with some of your shady business when he wakes up, sitting at the kitchen table typing away at your phone, maybe you’d sometimes be on calls and you’d lift a finger to your lips to hush him when you realize he wakes up. Every once in a while, he’d wake up to you making breakfast for him—you told him that you enjoy cooking when you have the time for it, so Dazai imagines that it would be a rare treat.

Like today.

But still, he can’t help but wonder why today? Your phone had been blowing up last night and now… now, it’s sitting on the marble counter, screen dark and not buzzing at all. He glances up at you once to make sure you’re still looking at the stove and then shifts over to the counter quietly, discreetly pressing his finger against the screen to see if your phone is even on and then frowns when he realizes that you did, in fact, turn it off.

What is going on that has you so avoidant that you’d rather turn your phone off than confront it? His mind races to all of the things you’ve been bitching to him about, remembers that you told him you weren’t responding for days because you’d been busy finishing up negotiations with the Shimazaki-kai… is it something new, maybe? But why aren’t you handling it then? It doesn’t make any sense.

Dazai makes his way over to you, feet padding softly against the ground until he’s standing behind you. He slips his arms around your waist and plops his chin onto your shoulder, humming softly as he nudges his nose against your ear before resting the side of his head against yours.

“Good morning,” he says, voice still a bit rough with sleep. “Whatcha making?”

“Pancakes,” you reply easily and Dazai’s heart swells when you lean back into his chest, fueling the fantasy of his imagined future even more. God, he’s been waiting for the ball to drop since you talked to him out on the cliff’s edge—you can’t keep giving him hope like this, he can feel it blooming in his chest and he knows that there’s going to be something to ruin it because that’s just how his life goes but… “I don’t think they came out good though.”

“I’ll eat them anyway,” Dazai says immediately.

“You’ll probably get food poisoning.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

You do.

Two words, so simple and yet they ring through his head over and over again so loudly. You care. You do care. You implied it last night when you told him you wanted him, that it scares you how bad you want him because of his life being at risk, but you hadn’t out right said it until now and it’s a devastating blow. Fatal, really.

The puff of air he lets out is shaky and when you turn to look at him, confused, he can only barely muster a smile as he asks hesitantly, “You do?”

The last time he asked you this, you changed the subject and evaded answering—he took it as an answer in itself, that you don’t care… but now, he’s let himself hope again, hope that maybe this time your answer will be different. What a treacherous thing, really, because even now he can feel the dark claws of anxiety start tugging at his heart in different directions, yanking it around and stretching it until it’s painful. He thinks it would’ve just been easier to carve it out and hand it over to you.

“I do,” you finally say, voice quiet. “I care.”

Dazai lets out a long breath, one that he hardly recognized he was holding, dropping his forehead down on your shoulder to hide his face against your skin. His arms tighten around your waist as his lips curve up, he presses his lips to your neck but for some reason, he can’t fully discard the dreadful feeling in his chest.

Even with your assurances and finally verbally admitting that you care about him, it’s like he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for something to shatter his idyllic paradise. And he has a feeling he knows exactly what will do it. So because Dazai is Dazai and he has been self-destructive since the day he was born, he brings it up.

“Why’s your phone been blowing up?” he asks, keeping his voice deceptively light like he’s just trying to have a normal conversation with you—you don’t fall for it. When you immediately stiffen in his arms, Dazai almost wants to backtrack.

“Nothing important,” you say, voice tight, forcing a smile onto your face as you step away to look up at him. “Nothing to worry about. Want to help me remake the pancakes?”

You use the same tactic Dazai used on you after Nakahara Chuuya showed up at your apartment. You’re good too because even though Dazai knows what you’re doing, he still wants to give in. Wants to play domestic with you, make breakfast together and then sit at the table and eat. But he can’t, so while you’re good at using the same tactic that Dazai used against you, you’re ultimately unsuccessful because he doesn’t show you the same grace that you showed him.

“Tell me anyway?” Dazai asks softly. “Even if it’s not important?”

You stare at Dazai for a moment, your lips pressed together and he could imagine the thoughts running through your head—how he’s never satisfied, and how he always has to push you. He can imagine you voicing it again, telling him how it’s always what he wants, but you don’t.

Instead, you shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it, it’s stressing me out. I would rather just make breakfast with you,” you say. 

Your voice becomes a bit more tense and Dazai knows that he should stop pushing, that it would be smart to stop now, but Dazai’s track record for dumb decisions gets longer instead.

“Maybe I can help,” he prods, taking a step closer to you, reaching out to rest his hands faintly on your hips. He nudges his head forward, pushing his nose against yours before smiling softly and pressing his lips to yours. “Tell me, please.”

Let me in.

Dazai’s eyes are big and earnest as he stares down at you, fingers digging just the slightest bit further into your hips. Your expression is unrelenting, much to his distress.

“It’s mafia business,” you finally say.

“You’ve told me about mafia business before.”

You exhale sharply, brushing his hands off of you and taking a step away, and Dazai knows he’s pressing too much—doesn’t even know why he’s pressing because he knows that it’ll shatter the illusion of peace that the past half a day in the beach house has given him. 

Maybe that’s what he wants, for it to be ruined before he can get used to it.

You look out the window and don’t speak for a moment. Dazai itches to move closer to you again but his feet are rooted to the ground. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh and let your head fall forward a bit, shaking it as you turn back around to face him.

“Another organization has arrived in Yokohama,” you say, lifting your eyes to meet his. “A dangerous one. The Port Mafia… the executives are meeting to figure out how to handle the situation.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment. “You’re an executive.”

“I am.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

“But… why?” Dazai asks, voice hitching at the implications of it, not wanting to get his hopes up but unable to stop himself from it at the same time. “Why are you here?”

You stare at him silently for a moment and then you say quietly, “The call for the meeting came at the same time I got the voicemail from the hospital. I chose to go to you.”

Dazai’s breath catches as he breathes in and shakes terribly as he breathes out, unable to draw his gaze away from you. You… “You chose me,” he whispers.

“I chose you,” you repeat, swallowing as you turn your gaze down. “I did. I chose you.”

“Do you regret it?” Dazai asks softly—he wonders if he hopes you’ll say yes, that you’ll quash his hope before it’s too late.

“No,” you say. “I don’t.”

And Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s never been wanted before. Never been someone’s first choice. Dazai has always been the one left behind for others, discarded for a better option. His throat is uncomfortably tight and his fingers are shaking a bit, and he doesn’t have pockets to hide them in now so they’re in full view of your vision before he clasps his hands behind his back.

But it’s too late—you’ve already seen it and you’re taking a step closer to him. You reach out to cup his cheek with one of your hands and Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch.

“I don’t regret anything about you, Dazai Osamu,” you say quietly, so honestly that it makes a shiver run down Dazai’s spine, unintentionally letting out a soft noise in the back of his throat that he’s unable to smother. “Not a single thing.”

“Well, that can’t possibly be true,” Dazai tries to joke, to play off how much you’ve rattled him with only a few words, but you aren’t fooled by his tricks.

“It’s true.”

Dazai stares at you, his eyes sting and his fingers are shaking even more than they’d been before. The pads of your fingers burn against his cheek and Dazai thinks you’ve ruined him. You’ve ruined him entirely. You’ve shattered all of his carefully crafted walls, the ones that protect him from situations just like this, the ones that prevent him from being burned just like he has countless times before. You’ve ruined him and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll be able to put himself together again if this ends poorly.

He doesn’t know what to say in response to your words and he can’t handle the way you’re staring at him so intensely, so Dazai decides to change the subject with a shaky smile and a terrifying amount of hope blooming within him.

“Maybe you just need a fresh set of eyes. Tell me about this organization, I can try to help.”

You don’t even know why you’re considering this. 

Dazai bounds next to you in the sand chatting about his poetry workship. He still won’t tell you what the project he’s writing on is about but he does seem to be mighty pleased with how it’s coming out since he’s bragging about how his is clearly the best of all of his classmates’ and that he’s sure he’s going to get the best grade on it. It’s cute, you think, a fond smile twitching to the corner of your lips as you watch him from the corner of your eye.

It’s still only mid-morning, the sun paints a pretty glow over the private beach and Dazai looks so… alive beneath it. His smile is bright and genuine, skin flushed and radiant, eyes reminiscent of pools of honey—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so bright before. His fingers thrum excitedly against the book he’s bringing down to the beach with him: The Aeneid—he’s read it before, he very snootily told you when you side-eyed him for grabbing it, he just needs to refresh on it for his creative writing class.

When the two of you get down to the shore, you sit down in the sand right near the water’s edge, dipping your feet into the cool water. Dazai plops down next to you, pressing his shoulder against yours and you itch to wrap your arm around his waist, slide your hand under the comfy sweatshirt he’s wearing to rub circles over the bandages covering his skin, but your hands stay stiff in your lap as you stare down at the phone resting on your lap.

You have half a mind to toss it right into the bay. 

But then Dazai nudges you, waiting for you to start talking, and you sigh, looking back across the bay.

“They call themselves the Guild,” you finally say. You can feel Dazai’s eyes on you, curious, and you think maybe you should quit while you’re ahead but you find yourself speaking anyway. “They’re a kind of… secret society. Based in North America. They’re powerful. A lot of influence throughout the world.”

“Why are they here?” Dazai asks and you can feel the way his face twists as he then adds, “More influence than you?”

You can’t help the amused smile that twitches to your lips at his words. “I’m not the end all of political influence, Dazai,” you tell him, the tension in your shoulders slipping away as you tilt your head to the side to look at him

Dazai gives you a look. “Please, I was at that event. I heard the way people talked about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the most influential person in Japan.”

“Probably the eastern hemisphere,” you correct, quite humbly, snorting as Dazai rolls his eyes. “No, I’m kidding. I have a lot of influence but there are plenty with more than me, especially considering I’m held back by the fact that I can’t make myself a public figure. Having to perpetually work behind the scenes is pretty… crippling.”

“You go to the big government events though,” Dazai frowns. “Those are-”

“Very, very confidential unless certain cockroaches worm their way in and feed information to the public,” you say dryly, watching as Dazai gives you an offended look. 

“Did you just call me a cockroach?”

“If the shoe fits.” You shrug.

“My bella hates me,” Dazai sighs whimsically, dropping his head on your shoulder. “She thinks I’m a bug. A cockroach.”

You soften when he comes in contact with you, lifting your hand to cradle the side of his head. Your lips curl up into a small smile when Dazai’s lashes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. You brush your fingers through his hair, choosing your words carefully as you continue to explain what’s going on in spite of your better judgment.

“Anyway, they have more influence than me. I’ve been working all night trying to figure out what to do, pulled as many strings as I can trying to get the government to push them out of Yokohama but they’ve eaten their way right into the heart of Japan. They’ve been granted diplomatic immunity and they’re putting pressure on the government to try to get us—the Port Mafia—and some government agencies that are protesting the invasion of the city to back off. They’re trying to get their hands on a skilled business permit, we don’t know why but…”

“But you have suspicions,” Dazai finishes for you, sitting up straight again to watch you, ever perceptive. “Right?”

You don't respond for a moment as you watch him carefully. Dazai has always been perceptive—you’ve noticed it from early on when you would talk around the truth and he would train that sharp gaze on you, knowing that you were skirting around something but unable to figure out what. 

Honestly, it should be concerning. Dazai’s smarter than almost anyone you’ve ever met. He’s sharp and quick—proved it with the way he managed to get his hands on the tapes behind the Tokyo City Hall to get evidence of your mafia affiliation; even proved it before that when he recognized that he had to go about information gathering in a different manner, trying to pin down your political opinions because he knew which sectors supported which opinion and wanted to know which one you were a part of.

“Does it have something to do with me?”

“You’re so conceited, not everything has to do with you.”

Dazai flushes red, scowling at you and physically turning his back to you. “Well forgive me for assuming because you’ve certainly been acting like everything has to do with me.”

You smile as Dazai huffs shifting closer to press your lips against the nape of his neck, arms slipping around his waist. He gives you a dirty look but relaxes back into your chest, leaning into you. You slip your hands beneath his sweatshirt, smoothing them out over the bandages covering his slim torso, feeling the way his breath hitches at your touch.

“They’re here because of something I did,” you finally admit quietly, ignoring as he looks up at you curiously. “One of the boys you met when you came to my apartment the first time… they had a bounty on the black market on him for seven billion yen.”

Dazai chokes, splutters over air as he looks up at you and squeaks out, “Seven billion-why?”

“We don’t know,” you say honestly. “I… didn’t think it was a good sign that they were putting so high of a bounty on a seemingly random ability user. It made me think there was more to it than meets the eye, that it would be… dangerous for us to hand him over to the Guild.”

Dazai’s brows furrow as he nods. “I mean, it makes sense. That much money for a what? Eighteen year old kid? Is his ability special?”

“He can turn into a tiger,” you tell him. “Can’t even control it.”

Dazai sits back up straight again, holding his book in his lap as he turns to face you, crossing his legs together. You feel a bit of fondness bubbling in your chest when you see how quickly he seems to be thinking, you can all but see the gears running swiftly behind his dark eyes.

“Is he the tiger? Is the tiger something of its own sentience? I did a research project on ability users two years ago, mostly I was just reading the studies of how they’re dragged into criminal organizations at a young age, but some of them talked about how some ability users can’t even control their ability because it’s like… a separate consciousness. Maybe it knows something? Or there are parts of his ability that he hasn’t been able to unlock yet?”

Is it sentient? Atsushi hadn’t made any mention of it and you hadn’t thought to ask. It wouldn’t be��� unheard of. Dazai is right in that there’s been a record of ability users who claim that their abilities have a consciousness of their own. There’s a member of the SDUP, a higher up in the Family who you met a few years back, and even Chuuya. Arahabaki is its own sentient being within Chuuya, could that be why Atsushi can’t control his ability? You don’t know, you hadn’t really considered it but it’s definitely a possibility, and it would explain the Guild’s desperation to get their hands on him.

“Either way, I mean, I think you were definitely right to keep him close,” Dazai shrugs. “They clearly want him badly for a reason and since it’s not one that can be seen at face value, who knows what it could be.”

“I wish you had been at the meeting where I had to argue with all of them about it,” you say bitterly, still irritated over the hours you spent arguing with the other executives, who were dead set on getting the money from the bounty.

Dazai tilts his head to the side, an unreadable look crossing his face for a second but then he shakes his head and asks, “So political pressure isn’t working?”

“No. I mean, they don’t want the Americans here anymore than any of us but they don’t have a choice. After you fell asleep, I spent most of the night on the phone with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, talked to the US ambassador in Tokyo and asked our ambassador in the US to try to work with their government to get the Guild out of Japan. Got nowhere with it. If something could’ve been done politically to force them out of here, I would’ve gotten it done.”

You even called Tolstoy last night. You don’t like going to outsiders about domestic problems but you feel as if you’re backed into a corner—it’s your fault that the Guild is here and you can’t even do anything to fix it. And now-and now Dazai is at risk too. You have half a mind to keep him locked up in this beach house until you can figure everything out but you doubt that he’d stay in one place and he’s better off at your side than on his own.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head—or maybe not, he probably knows exactly how stressed you are about this. You’ve never been without your phone and you know you’re making a mistake by turning it off now but you just can’t bring yourself to turn it on, dreading whatever messages you might find. Chuuya’s rage at your disappearance, Kouyou’s disapproval and worst of all, Mori’s disappointment.

He would know where you are. Who you’re with. Why you disappeared and why you were unable to fix this before it became a major problem for the Mafia. He promised not to intervene if it didn’t affect Port Mafia business and you let it anyway. You ran to Dazai when you should have gone to the meeting and you can’t even bring yourself to regret it even when you know that you put him in danger, not just from your enemies but also from-

You feel Dazai’s hand brush your cheek as he reaches out, brows knit in concern as he looks at you and you realize that your breath has quickened noticeably, shallow and uneven. You try to calm yourself down but it only makes your heart rate spike more because you can’t figure out why you’re unable to get yourself under control.

“Hey,” Dazai says quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, but he sounds like he’s underwater. Or you’re underwater. Something isn’t right—you know what isn’t right, you know what’s happening but you can’t stop it. “Hey, it’s okay-”

It’s not okay. It’s very much not okay. Your fingers dig into the sand, the small grains getting stuck beneath your fingernails as you try to physically ground yourself. You never should have started talking about this with him—you’d known it was going to force you to confront everything you’ve been avoiding the past few hours, your failure and incapability but he asked you and you couldn’t-

You couldn’t say no.

You need to-

“You need to make them want to go back.”

You’re so caught off guard by Dazai’s words that it startles you right out of your spiral. Your gaze focuses on him and you watch as he starts to light up, excited. His hands drop to your wrists, holding them gently as he urges you to pay attention to him. 

“You need to make them want to go back,” he repeats, faster this time. “You can’t force them, so you have to make them choose to go on their own.”

You shake your head, still unsteady from your sudden bout of panic. You briefly shut your eyes and then say quietly, “Dazai, that’s a lot easier said than done. How-”

“The best defense is a good offense,” Dazai quotes at you, nearly vibrating. “Counterattack, do something to make them have to go back to America.”

Oh.

Oh my god.

“Oh my god,” you voice out loud, little over a breath. “Oh my god. Octavio.”

“Who?” Dazai blinks, staring at you as you fumble to turn your phone back on.

“Octavio Paz,” you say hurriedly, willing your phone to turn back on. “He’s the leader of one of Mexico’s biggest cartels, has been trying to expand his foothold into the central parts of the US for years but one of the Guild members—Twain, maybe, Steinbeck, one of them—they always prevented it. If I can get him to do something now-”

You’re stupid, you’re so stupid for not thinking of this sooner. Mori has always taught you it—the one that strikes the first blow wins the battle—you should’ve had Octavio Paz making movements in the US as soon as you decided to keep Atsushi with the Port Mafia. As soon as you were considering keeping Atsushi with the Port Mafia. You were stupid and you let the Guild make the opening move of the game, and now it could cost you.

But if you can act fast enough then maybe…

As your phone finally starts to turn on, you look back up at Dazai.

“I could kiss you,” you breathe out, watching his face light up at your approval. 

You almost find yourself a bit suspicious of how quickly he came to this conclusion, how naturally this thought process seemed to come to him. You had been struggling trying to figure out what to do and you have over a decade of experience now—you were too focused on the fact that they were already here, so focused on the defense that you were scrambling and blinded to the prospect of an offense. And yes, it might’ve just been stupidity on your part—stupidity and carelessness, that is—but Dazai is a twenty-two year old literature student, how the hell was he able to figure it out in a span of a handful of minutes while you’ve been so lost?

“What’s stopping you?” Dazai prods, leaning forward.

His eyes are wide and imploring, a warm golden color beneath the rays of the sun; his lips are curved up into a sweet smile and you let all of your suspicions wash away. You reach forward to cup his cheek, watching as he immediately presses his face into your hand, eyes sliding shut as he brushes his lips to your palm before looking back up at you, expectant.

You lean in and graze your lips against his but just as you consider deepening the kiss, you notice that your phone screen has finally flickered on, so you lean back, not catching the way Dazai’s face instantly falls.

“I’m going to go make a few calls—I have to head back to the house to grab my laptop. You want to come in or stay out here for a bit?” you ask absently as you rise to your feet.

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit,” he says quietly. “Hopefully everything works out.”

You don’t respond as you make your way up the beach back to the house, wincing as you see a spam of nearly forty messages from Chuuya, a dozen from Piano Man, and a handful from Kouyou come in.

Worse, there’s not a single message or missed call from Mori. 

A few hours later, you’re sitting with Dazai on the couch in the beach house watching a movie. He’s resting back against your chest, your arms loose around his waist—you think he’s falling asleep actually, every time you look down, his eyes are drooping shut but then snap back open whenever he realizes that you’re looking down at him. 

You’re being spammed with calls again now that your phone is back on—both Chuuya and Piano Man have been calling and texting incessantly. You think they’re taking turns, honestly, when one isn’t calling, the other is. You had to put their numbers on do not disturb but you did reach out to Klaus and Akutagawa, giving them quick orders to do what they can to fuck with the Guild. 

Now, you’re waiting for a text from Paz to confirm he’s made the necessary movements into the central parts of the US—you had to redirect a weapons shipment from South America up to Paz and his men, so you have to compensate for that with Machado down in Brazil, but he’s always been easily appeased. You’ll just have to take a trip down there some time soon to wine and dine him as an apology.

As soon as you get the confirmation from him, you can put your phone away and just spend the night relaxing with Dazai. Maybe try to figure out what’s going on in this movie. Honestly, neither of you are even really watching the movie so you don’t even know why it’s playing but it’s nice background noise at the very least. 

“Can I ask you something?” Dazai asks quietly after a few moments, playing with your fingers and tilting his head up against your shoulder to look at you.

“You have no idea how much I dread those words coming from you,” you say dryly. “Go ahead. Ask.”

Dazai pouts at your words but there’s a serious look in his eyes that has you on edge, a bit concerned to what he might want to ask you.

“What did Chuuya mean the other night?” Dazai asks after a few moments, as if trying to figure out how he wants to phrase his question. When you only give him a confused look in return, he adds on, “He said that you couldn’t save someone last time. That this time wouldn’t be any different.”

 Immediately, you stiffen and Dazai straightens up from where he’s sitting to turn to look at you, concerned. “I don’t-” you start to say, voice strained and tongue heavy in your mouth. “I-”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Dazai tells you, seemingly a bit taken aback by how you’re struggling for words. “It’s okay. I was just wondering.”

You think you should take the out given to you because even just the thought of talking about what happened two years ago with Chuuya and his girl and the Serpent’s Tongue. Even after all of the time that’s passed, the image of Chuuya hunched over her body is still burned behind your eyelids. You still wake up gasping and sweaty with the sound of Chuuya’s screams still ringing through your ears. There are still days where the guilt of what happened is so crushing that you can hardly breathe. 

“Chuuya… he was dating a civilian two years ago,” you find yourself speaking instead but your voice sounds distant, like you’re not talking but instead listening to someone else talk. You don’t even register that your lips are moving, they feel numb and prickly but the words tumble from your lips. “She was our age, a year older maybe. In her third year of university, on track for med school—I think she went to YNU actually. She wanted to be a doctor. I only met her a few times, but Chuuya never shut up about her, would brag about her to anyone who would listen.”

You sit up straight, smoothing your hands up and down against the skin of your thighs a few times anxiously. Your tongue feels weighted, you can hardly bring yourself to continue; you don’t want to continue so you don’t know why you’re trying to force yourself. Dazai’s gaze is so intense that you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him, you keep your eyes trained on your lap even as he reaches out to entwine his fingers with yours.

“How did they meet?” Dazai prods curiously, purposely trying to steer the conversation to a lighter topic when he hears the way your voice wavers.

“He was stupid,” you say, the wry smile that tugs to your lips is a bit more genuine. You pause and then amend, “We were both stupid when we were twenty—thought we were untouchable—but Chuuya especially. Was a bit too arrogant on a mission and got three bullets in the back because of it. He dragged himself out of the warehouse they were ambushed in and into an alley—she was coming back from a late night class and ran into him. Took him back to her place and patched him up, he couldn’t move for three weeks and he didn’t have his phone on him. I went crazy looking for him, thought he was dead or worse, captured.”

Crazy might be understating it, honestly. In the three weeks Chuuya was missing, you all but upended the entire Mafia. There was no information on who the assailants had been, the entire warehouse had burned to the ground and the only three survivors were comatose, so you orchestrated the end of five different organizations that had been pressing their luck in Mafia territory, hoping that one of them had been the culprit. 

Realistically, you had known that if any of the organizations had captured Chuuya, they would have made it known that they had him, but you’d been so viciously angry that you hadn’t even cared in the moment… and you had thought at the time, that if he wasn’t captured, he was almost definitely dead, so you hadn’t wanted to consider the alternative as an actual option.

“But no, he was with a civilian girl who knew damn well from the wounds and his outfit what he was involved with but still decided to help him,” you say, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “She was just as stupid as us, I guess.”

“How did you meet her?” Dazai asks curiously. “Did Chuuya introduce you?”

Your smile softens a bit at the edges as you pull his hand into your lap, tracing along the lines of his palm and up his fingers. “Nah, Chuuya tried to keep her out of this as much as possible. Talked all about her but never brought her around, was careful to never give up too much information about her to people he didn’t fully trust.”

You sigh, gaze drifting from his hand over to the window, watching absently as the wind smacks a tree branch against the glass. You think there must be a storm rolling in—you’d noticed that the skies were getting cloudy before the sun had set earlier but you hadn’t thought anything of it. You hope it doesn’t knock the power out—you don’t think this place has a generator. 

“I only met her by chance—was in the area with Klaus handling a small gang that was causing trouble for civilians because I had nothing better to do. I get there and lo and behold, they’ve got Chuuya’s girl backed in an alley. We got there before they could do anything but she was shaken, obviously. Was sweet though, she recognized me from pictures Chuuya has, invited both me and Klaus back to her apartment and made us tea. Chuuya flew across the city when I texted him, crashed right through the window.”

Your lips quirk up into another smile as you remember the way that Chuuya had quite literally crashed through her window, panicked and furious that some lowlives had tried to fuck with her. The way she spent thirty minutes shouting at him for breaking her window and forcing him to go replace it before he even had himself oriented.

Dazai snorts and then quietly asks the dreaded question, “What happened to her?”

“We were stupid,” you repeat, softer this time. “Thought we were untouchable. Chuuya—he’s the strongest ability user in the world—and I’m set to take over the strongest mafia in the eastern hemisphere. No one would dare try to attack either of us because they know it’s futile—a death wish. And we… forgot that the people we love aren’t as protected. That there are people out there who would do anything to try to cripple us if given the chance.”

Your throat swells, an uncomfortable lump forming as you stare ahead blankly, the movie still playing but none of it processing through your brain. You don’t even know what’s happening on it, all you can see are indecipherable blobs moving on the screen. Dazai doesn’t press you to continue but you can still feel him looking at you and the way he squeezes your hand, so you take in a deep breath before continuing.

“It was a Thursday night. Chuuya was meeting her on campus to bring her out of the city for the weekend as a surprise. She never walked out of the building her class was in and when he asked around, they said she never showed up. He went to her apartment to check on her because he realized something was up and the whole place was trashed—blood everywhere, windows shattered, they even killed one of her fucking cats. Chuuya called me but he couldn’t even speak properly, I tracked him to her apartment and realized what had happened.”

He had her other cat in his lap, you remember, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Was kneeling in her blood next to the other one with the living one curled in his lap, licking his wrist as if begging him to get up and snap out of it. You’d never seen him like that before—face so pale that he looked bloodless, eyes wide and haunted, not processing anything around him—he was usually good in emergencies, never froze up, always moved forward. He didn’t even fight Klaus and Akutagawa when you told them to get him to your apartment, to not let anyone see him like this.

“I… he wasn’t in the right state to lead or plan an operation, so I did. I took over,” you say quietly, “and I failed.”

It wasn’t your first failure. Itou’s death was your fault no matter how much people try to convince you otherwise. Even if the information you’d been given wasn’t accurate, you still should’ve been quicker on your feet. You’ve circled the what-ifs in your head over and over again, there were so many routes you could’ve taken but you’d frozen up in the face of a situation out of your control and it cost Itou his life.

Wasn’t your first failure, but it was the first that had been entirely in your control. You took too long to figure out who had her, took too long to get the Black Lizards organized, by the time you got to their base, she’d already been dead.

“They were called the Serpent’s Tongue. A younger organization that had been based in Kyoto before they came to Yokohama. We hadn’t been taking them seriously,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “Should have been, obviously. By the time I’d figured out who had her and where they were… Chuuya was demanding to come with us, wanted to be the first face she saw after getting her out of there. Wouldn’t budge on it. We got there and they left her head for us to find. Chuuya had barged into the room first and…”

You still hear the way he screamed her name in your nightmares, still see how he’d fallen to his knees. He’d unleashed corruption in his grief, devastating the area and nearly killing you with it—when you pulled him out of it, he told you that you should’ve let it take him. You let out a heavy breath, gaze drifting to the side again. 

“I don’t have a good track record for saving people,” you say quietly. “I don’t… her death destroyed Chuuya. And if you… if something happens to you now when I know better…”

You’d never recover from it. Never.

“... That’s why you were so mad,” Dazai realizes after a few moments. When you give him a confused look, he elaborates. “The day we got my suit tailored and I texted you.”

You snort. “I had Chuuya on standby and was about to put the Mafia’s equivalent of the special ops on standby because I thought you were in trouble.”

Dazai flushes bright red. “I didn’t know,” he complains. “How was I supposed to know?”

Your lips curve up into a fond smile as you reach out for him, beckoning him to come back over to you. He pouts but he crawls back over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pushing you back until you’re laying on the couch so that he can lay right on top of you, burying his face in your chest. You bring one hand up to cradle the back of his head, the other sliding down to his back to hold him close to you.

You feel his lips pull up into a smile as he tilts his head up, big brown eyes peeking up at you, a soft brown under the dim lighting of the room, sweet and adoring. You’ve never had someone look at you that way in your life—like you’re something worth being treasured, someone to treat gently. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans up to brush his lips against your jaw and-

And you think you love him.

The thought is so jarring that you almost physically flinch as soon as it crosses your mind. You only realize something’s wrong when you notice that Dazai’s eyes shot open in surprise and instantly, your mouth floods with ash.

No way.

“What?” he breathes out.

“What?” you echo, voice flat.

“What did you just say?” he asks, a bit more rushed, eyes bright but expression hesitant—as if he’s trying to not get his hopes up but can’t help himself. “Tell me what you said. Say it again.”

You have half a mind to deny it but Dazai just looks so… he looks so happy. Hopeful. Like you’ve told him something that he never expected anyone to ever say to him. So all you can do is steel yourself and clear your throat as you say quietly: “I think I love you.”

Dazai doesn’t respond; he stares at you and you think he’s hardly even breathing. His eyes rapidly search your face, desperately trying to figure out if you’re telling him the truth or not and when he finds his answer, he looks entirely devastated, as if you’ve taken his world and ripped it right out from under him.

“I’m not someone made to be loved,” he tells you, voice so quiet that you barely even hear it. His fingers clutch your shirt tightly like he’s scared to let go of you.

Your smile softens. “Yet here I am.”

“You’ll regret it,” Dazai says shakily, throat bobbing as he swallows. “You will.”

A part of you wants to tell him no, that if anyone ends up regretting anything, it will be him—that if anyone isn’t made for love, it’s you—but you don’t have it in you. You raise your hand to cup his cheek, watching as his lashes flutter shut; you lift your other hand to brush his hair back behind his ear.

“I won’t,” you tell him quietly.

“You will,” he insists. “You really will. I-”

“I won’t,” you say again, firmer this time, and Dazai lets out a noise in the back of his throat, dropping down to lay flat against you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

His lashes are wet, you can feel the dampness against your skin, and you can also feel how hot his face is. You smile as your hand slides to the back of his head again, absently playing with the dark locks as you tilt your head to the side and kiss his temple.

Dazai takes in a wet, ragged breath at the casual and unexpected action. You can feel his shoulders shake as he tries to regain control of himself and your free hand rests between his shoulder blades, thumb drawing circles against his skin. 

“What happened to the cat?” Dazai suddenly asks after a few moments of him trying to settle down, voice cracking and wavering over the words as he desperately tries to change the subject to something that doesn’t have him on the verge of collapse.

“The cat?”

“The cat, the one that lived. What happened to it?” he asks more insistently, not bothering to even look up from where he’s hiding his face against you.

“Oh.” You realize what he’s talking about. “Chuuya took it in.”

Dazai makes a sharp noise of disgust. “Gross,” he complains. “He doesn’t even seem like a cat person.”

You can’t help the puff of laughter that escapes your lips. “What is your problem with him?” you ask. “You’ve had it out for him from day one.”

Dazai sniffs. “I just don’t like him, that’s all,” he says defensively. “I don’t need a reason.”

“Sure,” you agree, amused. “Whatever you say.”

Dazai lights up suddenly at your words. “Whatever I say?” he prods, finally lifting his face to look up at you, eyes gleaming. You give him a suspicious look but Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return.

“Nothing,” he sings without you even needing to say anything, making you even more suspicious, but then he lays back down on top of you, nudging his nose against the side of your face. You feel him smile against your skin, he kisses your cheek once, twice and then a third time before settling back down. “Let’s watch Despicable Me.”

“No.”

“You said whatever I say-”

“No!”

“Are you asleep?”

Dazai pouts as he nudges you gently—he’s been wide awake for over an hour now and he knows he shouldn’t bother you considering you didn’t sleep the night before, but he still finds himself seeking out your company. He’s half laying on top of you, head resting on your shoulder as he continues to bop his forehead against your chin to wake you up.

The two of you had gone back to the bedroom a few hours ago and you’d fallen asleep pretty quickly. Dazai had dozed off for a bit too, but he found himself startled awake by a particularly loud cracking noise from outside, a tree toppling over from the wind probably, and now he couldn’t fall back asleep.

And a Dazai left with only his own mind as company is not a good Dazai.

He tried to distract himself with you for a bit. Watched you sleep for a while—creepy as it is, he found peace in watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft puffs of air that left your lips, how every time he tried to pull away from you, your brows would furrow and your arms would tighten around him. He’s never had someone who wanted him before, much less someone who wanted him so genuinely and unconditionally that even in their sleep, they seek him out and want him close. He didn’t even know what to think of it, honestly, a part of him was still waiting for you to start laughing and telling him that this is all some big joke.

I think I love you.

His breath shakes the same way it does every time your words echo through his head, fingers trembling from where he’s running them up and down your arm softly. 

Love. Love. Love. 

You love him. Him. Someone who can hardly function on an everyday basis, someone who has to wrap himself up in bandages because he’s embarrassed of what lies beneath them, someone who has only ever had death and misfortune follow him around his entire life. You love him even though you’ve listened to him fumble over words like a fool because he gets tongue tied in your presence, you love him even though he blackmailed you into giving him a chance because he was that desperate for your attention, you love him even though you had to pick him up at the hospital after a failed suicide attempt because he has no one else in his life to call. 

You love him. Him. You love him in spite of all of his flaws—and he knows very well there are a lot of them. You love him in spite of all of the pushback from the people around you. You love him in spite of the fact that your world is completely different from his, in spite of the fact that you could do so much better than him, in spite of the fact that Dazai is Dazai and you’re you and you’re so far out of his league that Dazai doesn’t even think he should be breathing the same air as you, much less curling up next to you in bed. Even though it puts so much at risk—your life, your occupation, everything—you love him still and Dazai just can’t understand it.

And Dazai loves you. 

He does. He thinks he’s known it since the beginning, since that day at the school library when you came over because he was sitting all alone at a table that was clearly meant for a group of individuals and not just one, when you realized something was bothering him so you gave him your name even though he had been rude to you when he got embarrassed over having no friends. Since that day at his apartment complex when you showed up to deal with his shitty landlord; he’d made a joke about how you should waive his rent, not expecting anything of it, and you did. Since you rushed to him while he was at the men’s warehouse—he’d thought it was odd that you seemed so irritated by his dramatics trying to get you to come to him, but now that he knew it was because you thought he was in trouble, thought he was in danger and rushed to him like he was the only thing that mattered even back then…

Dazai loves you, and he didn’t tell you when you told him—he wants to tell you even though the thought of pushing those words out of his mouth terrifies him, so he returns to trying to wake you up.

“Wake up,” Dazai complains quietly, booping his forehead against your chin again. “Wake up, wake up, wake-”

“What’s wrong?” you finally ask through a yawn, voice rough with sleep as you shift a bit. One of your hands comes up to run your fingers through his hair and Dazai hums at the feeling, eyes drooping shut again as he sinks back into your chest. “Dazai?”

“Osamu,” he corrects quietly, “... will you call me Osamu?”

Your fingers still in their steady strokes through his hair and for a split second, Dazai thinks that he misstepped. But then, you lean your head down to press your lips against his forehead and he can only let out a shaky breath, nuzzling his face into your body.

“Osamu,” you repeat, voice soft and a bit more awake—and god, the sound of his given name leaving your lips is almost heavenly, he thinks. 

He can’t remember the last time someone called him by his first name, his aunt was probably the last and it was her screaming at him to get out of his car before she left him to die in Suribachi. It’s an unpleasant memory, and he thinks that maybe he’s only been able to associate his given name with unpleasantness because of it, but this… it makes him feel light and cozy, like the warmth of a hearth surrounding him after spending years alone in the cold wilderness. He thinks he could hear you say his name a million times and never tire of this feeling.

“Osamu, tell me what’s wrong. Why’d you wake me up?”

His lips part to say the three words he planned on saying but they wither and die on his tongue when his eyes meet yours. Even with your words ringing through his head, he can’t bring himself to say it. And it’s silly. It’s silly because he’s scared that if he says it, it’ll be the trigger the gods need to finally rip you away from him—everything he never wants to lose is always lost the moment he obtains it, it’s true, he told you this and he’s been treading such a fine line and he’s terrified that speaking those three words out loud will be enough for the twisted gods above to finally rip the rug out from under his feet.

So, he doesn’t say it.

“Osamu,” you frown—he’ll never tire of it, he has half a mind to ask you to say it over and over and over again, doesn’t care if it makes him seem crazy. “What’s going on?”

He needs to say something—the longer he sits here evading answering, the more concerned you’re going to get, and the more concerned you get, the harder it’s going to be to lie. Dazai’s throat spasms as he instead broaches a different topic that has been bothering him for a few weeks.

“Are you attracted to me?”

It has been a rather persistent thought in the back of his head, even more so since the two of you spoke at the cliff yesterday. At first, he thought maybe it was just because you didn’t really want him—that you were trying to evade any physical intimacy with him because he was backing you into a corner and you were uncomfortable. 

But now? Knowing that you do want him? He doesn’t have any other explanation than the fact that maybe you just aren’t attracted to him… and he’s not sure he can blame you. Who would be attracted to someone who hardly takes care of himself and wraps himself in bandages like a mummy?

You stare at him for a moment, expression too blank for comfort before your brows begin to furrow. The longer you take to respond, the more embarrassed Dazai is.  

“What?” you finally ask, voice stunted and perplexed.

Dazai’s face heats up, regretting his words immediately. 

He should have just told you what he wanted to say originally.

“Nevermind,” he says, rolling over so that his back is to you, not wanting you to see his red face. “Forget it.”

“Hey, no,” you say, suddenly sounding all too awake and Dazai squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to crawl into a ditch and die. “Osamu, what? What are you even talking about? How is that even a question?”

He feels you sit up in the bed next to him and pointedly lays on his stomach to bury his face in the pillow to try to hide himself even as you shift to look over at him. It’s to no avail because you’re a brute and decide to just grab his shoulder to forcibly roll him back onto his back. Dazai scowls up at you, face still aflame. 

“Don’t manhandle me,” he grumbles, averting his gaze but you only shift right back into his line of vision, frowning. “Stop, it’s nothing. Forget it. Really.”

“It’s not nothing,” you say, reaching out to cup his cheek and Dazai thinks you’re entirely unfair because he is simply too weak to your touch so he can already feel himself giving in when you look at him with a slight frown and say, “Tell me.”

Dazai huffs. He huffs and he bristles like an irritated cat, he scowls up at you for forcing him to explain himself and then his shoulders slump in defeat. 

How embarrassing.

“I just… have tried to… initiate things and you… don’t ever… want to?”

Dazai thinks a gun in the mouth might be kinder than this.

And then-

And then you have the nerve to laugh at him. Or, you don’t laugh but you smile and you look like you’re about to laugh, so Dazai jerks up into a sitting position, offended. Your hand falls from his face and instantly, he’s yearning for your touch again. 

“You’re laughing at me,” he accuses, voice dripping with disbelief. “You just laughed at me when I was opening up to you.”

“No,” you say and then laugh. You laugh and Dazai stares at you in abject horror. “No, I’m not laughing at you.”

“You’re laughing at me right now,” Dazai squawks. “You’re-I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.”

“Osamu,” you say, smile softening as you look at him. You reach out again, fingers brushing his skin before your palm settles against his cheek again, thumb so close to the corner of his lips. Dazai’s breath hitches, lashes fluttering as his eyes meet yours. “I knew that if we started something, I wouldn’t be able to stop. So I didn’t want to let it start. I… still thought you’d be better off away from me, out of this life, and I wouldn’t have been able to let go if I let anything happen between us.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment, processing the words, and then confirms, “... So you are attracted to me?”

“Yes,” you say, unbearably amused. “Very.”

“... But why?” Dazai asks quietly, voice a bit too vulnerable for his liking.

“What do you mean why?” 

He clears his throat and looks up at the ceiling as he says, “I’m not anything special, y’know?” He’s careful to keep his voice light and airy, void of all of the insecurity that’s been ripping him apart since the two of you met. “I just don’t get it. You could have anyone you want—literally—so why me?”

You click your tongue and Dazai hears you shift around again, breath catching when you sit yourself right on his lap, lifting both hands to his face now to force him to look at you. With his face settled between your hands and your body flush to his, Dazai has no choice but to meet your gaze head on and he almost dies at the intense look in your eyes, can hardly breathe.

“Do you want me to show you why?” you hum with a teasing smile.

Dazai inhales sharply, eyes widening at the offer. His lips part to respond but no words leave them, so he just nods. You’re not pleased with that response, clearly, from how you raise your eyebrows.

“Yes,” he rasps out. “Show me. Prove that you want me. Please.”

You don’t even waste a second before you’re leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut and his breath hitches as you press him back against the plush pillows of the bed. He’s suddenly acutely aware of the rough bandages covering his body that are probably prickling your skin uncomfortably, of his chapped lips and hair that’s a bit too dry because he never properly washes it. 

“The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes,” you say quietly, pulling away from him so your gaze could meet his. He tries to chase your lips but you don’t let him. “I could hardly look away from them. I tried to walk away from you that night at the bar but every time I looked at you, I found myself lost in them.”

Dazai’s throat spasms, face flushing. “Don’t lie,” he tells you, voice hoarse. “Nobody likes my…”

Too wide. Too black. Too empty. Dull. Hollow. Soulless. All things he’s heard people say about his eyes—no one can ever look him in the eyes for too long before they find themselves uncomfortable. 

“I’m not lying,” you say with a soft smile, there’s almost a wistful look in your eyes as you continue. “Right now, they remind me of the night sky, dark and endless, filled with countless glittering stars… I love the stars… They remind me of home.”

Dazai chews on his bottom lip as he stares up at you; he tries to speak but again, he finds himself unable to. You don’t force him to this time though, bringing your hand back to his cheek and running your thumb over his bottom lip as if to stop him from biting at it.

“Under the sun, they’re gold,” you tell him quietly. “The first time I noticed, it was the day we met at the ports. Sunset. You were standing right at the opening of the alley I’d been waiting in with Klaus and the sun hit you just right. You looked so pretty beneath it that I was almost tongue-tied. If we hadn't been interrupted, I would’ve made a fool of myself.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Dazai’s voice wobbles terribly. “You-”

“I’m not,” you murmur. Dazai’s breath shakes as you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips. This time, instead of going back to his lips, you kiss down to his jaw slowly. “The second thing I noticed about you was your smile.”

Too fake. Too teethy. Too strained. Unnatural looking.

“Not the fake one you love to put on,” you say, nipping his skin gently. “Your real one. I got a glimpse of it that day at the cafe—the second time we met—when you realized I’d actually been listening to you that night at the bar. But I really saw it that day at Kido’s when we started talking about poetry… I don’t even think you realized you were smiling, the corners of your lips were curved up and your expression was just so… soft. Peaceful. You looked happy and I think that was the first time I really realized that a large majority of the time you put on a mask when you’re around people.”

When you kiss down to the edge of the bandages around his neck, Dazai thinks you’ll ask him to take them off and he braces himself for the question. Braces himself for the discomfort of being bare in front of someone for the first time… ever maybe, because it’s not like he can say no if you ask him to take them off after he badgered you into this.

But you don’t. You kiss over the bandages as if they’re not even there, you tug at his shirt to get him to lift his arms up for you to pull it off and when you do, you continue kissing down his chest—over the bandages—and don’t even show the slightest bit of discontent about it.

“You’ve seen through me… since all the way back then?” Dazai swallows thickly when your hands rest on his slim waist, breath quickening. “But then why…”

Why did you stay?

“That day at the boutique… I was supposed to cut you off,” you admit quietly, sitting back on his thighs as your hands rest on his hips, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, but you don’t move to pull them off. Dazai’s body is uncomfortably hot, head frighteningly fuzzy, he can only barely bring himself to listen to your words. “My first thought when I realized that I’d gotten my first glimpse behind your mask was that I wanted to see more of you, wanted to see you smile genuinely, wanted to learn more about you, I wanted you. I’d realized I let it go too far—that I was starting to actually fall for you and I was putting you in danger—but even then, I couldn’t do it.”

His breath shakes as he breathes in and out, fingers digging into your thighs. He parts his lips to say something but you continue before he can.

“I spoke to Chuuya that same night—he told me that this had to stop, that I was going to get you killed. The next time we met was at the ports. One of the Port Mafia’s enemies had seen us together,” you say, expression a bit more serious now. “Klaus killed him. I had the entire organization exterminated that same night.”

Dazai thinks that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. His heart rate spikes at your words, breath quickening and that pool of heat in his lower abdomen gets impossibly hotter, his mind almost entirely shatters at what you’re saying. Your grip on his hips tightens just a bit, lips pressed together as you look down at him with an unreadable expression.

“I would do terrible things for you, Dazai Osamu,” you tell him softy. “I have done terrible things for you and I would do them again and again and again.”

“Please,” Dazai breathes out, and he’s not even sure what he’s saying please for, but you do. 

You do. As always, Dazai is seen when he’s with you and he can’t help the whimper that spills from his lips, the way his eyes mist over with tears. Dazai is seen and he is loved and-and he’s happy. He’s happy—really, truly happy for the first time since Odasaku’s death.

You lean down to kiss Dazai again—this kiss is sloppier than the last few, a frantic clashing of teeth as your hands slide down his body to pull his sweatpants off. Dazai lifts his hips to help you get them off of him, his own fingers clumsily tugging at your silk shorts to try to yank them off of you.

Once he gets them off, his hands drop down to your hips, pulling you down so that you’re sitting flush against him. He moans into your mouth when he finally gets the friction he’s so desperately been aching for, grinding his clothed cock against your panties. He feels almost dizzy with need, lips sliding messily against yours, nails digging crescents into your hips. He thinks maybe he might be able to cum just from this and the thought is embarrassing but he can’t even stop the way he’s rocking his hips up.

Your lips trail from his down to his neck and Dazai tosses his head back against the pillow when your teeth scrape against his skin before you bite down hard, a lewd moan escaping his lips.

“Please,” he gasps again, voice breaking over the only word he seems to be capable of saying. “Please.”

You lean forward as you reach between your bodies to ease his cock out of his briefs and Dazai nearly cums on the spot when he feels your fingers wrap around him, fingers sliding against the precum dripping down his length. You rest your forehead against his, lips dragging across his cheek back to his lips as you press the tip of his cock against your entrance.

He almost says it in that moment—foreheads pressed together, sharing the same sliver of air, both of you breathing shakily as his tip just barely sinks into you—those three words, he almost says them. They almost slip out when his gaze meets yours and he sees the soft, enamored expression on your face as you look down at him.

Dazai’s eyes knock back when you sink down on his cock, lips parted in a silent moan, vision white. For a terrifying moment, Dazai thinks he might’ve cum just from the feeling of your walls warm and tight around his cock. His whole body trembles, his head feels foggy and garbled—he’s speaking, he realizes, but he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He can feel his lips moving, can hear something leaving them, but he’s so out of it that he can’t even process what it is. 

You nip at his lips once, then twice, before you trail kisses to his ear, savoring in the way he shivers when you tug at his earlobe. You only start to rock your hips when your lips get to that spot behind his ear that makes him entirely incoherent. You suck and nip at the skin as you roll your hips slowly, each drag of his cock against your walls makes him choke over moans. 

He’s not going to last long, he realizes absently, unable to even be mortified by the thought considering how focused he is on your body, warm and flush against his. His hands are moving sliding up your body to your chest, back down your body to your ass—he doesn’t even know what to do with them, honestly, wants to touch every part of you all at the same time, wants to make you feel half as good as you’re making him feel but he can’t even think with your lips sucking at his skin and your cunt squeezing his cock.

His moan breaks suddenly, cracking and quavering as it slips into a sob. His breath is ragged and shuddered, and his vision swims. He feels his cheeks wet and your hands leave from where they’re braced on his shoulders to cup his cheeks. 

Your thumbs wipe away the tears spilling down his cheeks, you lean down to ghost your lips against his temple, and your voice is soft, so soft as you whisper, “I know, baby, I’ve got you. Let go.”

And he does. The taut cord in his abdomen tightens impossibly more before snapping, his nails drag down your thighs, leaving long red marks, his hips snap up and he tosses his head back against the pillows. One of your hands slides from his cheek to wrap around his neck firmly and Dazai is gone—his vision goes dark and spotty, a choked cry of your name escapes his lips and Dazai cums so hard that he thinks he blacks out momentarily.

You lean down and press your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as your walls spasm around him. Dazai’s breath is sharp and quick, lashes wet and heavy, his body twitches and trembles as you ride out your high on his spent cock. He can feel you panting against his skin, your lips sliding from his to press against his cheek as you try to catch your breath.

And Dazai thinks he could stay like this forever, basking in your presence, the feeling of your body pressed to his, his cock still snug in your cunt and one of your hands cradling his face while the other cups the side of his neck, fingers absently playing with the ends of his matted hair. Your forehead rests against his cheek, savoring his presence just as much as he is yours.

He feels warm, he feels safe, he feels loved.

He feels loved.

You shift back just enough to look him in the eye, close enough so that your nose is still brushing his, that you’re still sharing air. Your thumb runs along his cheekbone and your eyes are soft and adoring as you look down at him. As you admire him.

“I could give you countless reasons as to why I want you,” you finally say quietly, “but when it comes down to it, the main reason is because you’re you, Osamu.”

He feels loved. 

Your weekend paradise with Dazai shatters with a single message not even six hours later.

Chuuya: I need you. Going to use Corruption.

smut development: minimal besides some dialogue. she told him that when she saw through his mask, her first desire was wanting to see/know more of him. also tells him what happened after she met him at the ports (ie. having the yakuza exterminated). tells him: i'd do terrible things for you - i have done terrible things for you and i would do them again. then at the very end, she tells him that the reason she wants you is because she's him.

[kinardsevan]

i can see the sun

nobody asked for a mini where BuckTommy meet in 2x18, but my brain wrote it anyway? enjoy!

-

Tommy never mentions the first time they met, mostly because he doesn’t think Evan remembers it, and honestly he wouldn’t blame him. That night was—as Evan still defines it today—the worst night of his life, and the last thing Tommy ever wants to do is bring those painful memories back to the surface. Still, in the time since they’ve gotten together, he can’t help dwelling on it from time to time, thinking about the strength he’d seen in Evan that night, the determination. 

“Howie!” 

Chimney spins on his feet, looking around him until his eyes fall on Tommy’s muscular build, the waves of his light brown hair. 

“Tommy? What are you doing down here? It’s not safe-..” 

“I was down the street,” he explains. “Thought I could help.” 

Chimney turns, looks back at Hen and then Bobby, holding his hands out like he’s not entirely sure what the answer should be. 

“We’re gonna need the help to get it off of him,” Bobby states. He looks past his subordinates briefly and then back at them. “Chim, there’s a girl down there with her hand bleeding from twisted metal,” he states, pointing. “Hen?” 

She passes off the bag of IV fluids to Bobby that they’ve hooked up to Buck and Tommy looks around again before glancing down at the man on the ground, shaking his head. 

“What the hell,” he mutters to himself. He shifts backwards and drops down, getting in front of the blonde with curly hair, blood all over his face. “Hey, kid.” 

Buck lifts his head off the ground, groaning in pain as he looks up at him. Tommy reaches out and grabs his hand, squeezing tightly. 

“You gotta fight,” he tells him, running his thumb over Evan’s fingers. They’re cold, and he can see the paleness in his face. Buck groans again. 

“Let’s lift this,” Bobby states, glancing down at them. Tommy looks up at him and nods. 

“Alright, kid, you can do this,” he tells him. They both hear the count off, and then the attempted lift and Evan screams like bloody murder, trying to pull his leg free from where it’s pinned beneath the truck, but barely gains any traction before it’s down again. Tommy glances up at Bobby and shakes his head. “You gotta lift higher. 

“I-…I…” Buck’s voice is choked, pained cries falling out of him faster than he can do anything to stop them. Tommy reaches out and curls a finger under his chin, making him look up. 

“Hey kid, you gotta focus,” he states firmly. 

“M-ma-addie,” he stammers. 

Tommy shakes his head again. “Whatever you have to tell Maddie can wait.” Tommy looks around them again, sees everyone trying to problem-solve the situation. He glances back down at the kid in front of him. “What’s your name?” 

His head bobs up and down weakly and Tommy squeezes his fingers again. 

“E-Evan,” he stammers. Tommy nods. 

“We’re going to get you out of here, Evan,” Tommy tells him. “Just hold on.” 

“One more time guys, ready,” Bobby states. They lift again, and again Evan screams, trying to move and again gaining no traction. Tommy looks up at Bobby again, shaking his head once more. 

“It’s too heavy,” Bobby states, talking to people around them. Evan is gasping for air in front of Tommy, silent sobs coming out of him with the struggle for air. “We need more people.” 

Suddenly there’s a crowd of people lining around them, and Tommy looks back at Evan, brushing a calming hand down his hair. 

“Hang on Evan,” he states firmly. “They’ve got you.” 

“One, two, three!” 

He watches as they lift the truck, higher than they’ve been able to, high enough that he can see the clearance between Evan’s leg and the truck, and he tugs him forward until he’s free of it and the crowd is settling the truck back on the ground. Evan’s team crowds around him and Tommy steps back, moving out of the way. Bobby rests a hand on his shoulder and he looks up at him. 

“Thanks for your help,” he tells him before stepping past him, joining the rest of the 118 as they gather around Evan and move him onto a stretcher. He doesn’t voice it out loud, but holds the notion in the back of his head that in another life, he would’ve been the one pinned under the truck. 

. . . 

“Where’s your head at,” Evan murmurs, late one night as Tommy sets his book on the nightstand. He’s been doing that thing where he read the same page three times over and still didn’t digest any of the information. Tommy looks over at him and gives him a soft smile, lifting his hand to brush along one of the barely-there scars on his chin. 

“Just thinking about you,” he admits. Evan gives him an awkward smile, reaching up and pulling his hand away. 

“Should I be concerned,” Evan asks, adjusting the blankets on his lap. “You seem…distracted.” 

Tommy shakes his head dismissively. “No, no.” 

“Then what’s up,” Evan asks, curious. “Where’s your head at.” 

Tommy looks over at him, contemplatively. He narrows his gaze at Evan briefly before licking his lips. “Do you…remember? The first time we met?” 

Evan squints at him with a curious smirk. “Harbor hangar. Stealing helicopters to fly into a hurricane and break at least a dozen different laws.” He drawls on like it’s basic information. 

Tommy chuckles softly. “Sure.” He nods, biting his bottom lip briefly. “Except, no.” 

Evan still has that gaze on his face, like he’s not entirely sure where Tommy is going with this. “Okay?” 

Tommy takes a breath, lifting his hand to Evan’s chin again, looking at the scar once more. 

“I don’t mention it because I don’t ever want to put you in a painful memory,” he states, thumbing the scar. “But I was there for this.” 

Evan doesn’t need to see his face to know what Tommy is talking about. He stares at the older man for a time, clearly searching his memory, only to come up with nothing. 

“I don’t…?” 

Tommy nods. “You were already pinned under the truck, and I got on the ground with you so that Hen and Howie could help with the truck.” 

Evan’s gaze shifts around at Tommy’s words, still searching his memory. After a moment, he looks up at him. “I always thought I made up someone rubbing my head. I mean, Hen would hold my hand, but-..” 

“You didn’t,” Tommy tells him. He’s quiet for a moment, his expression somber. “I could tell you were getting close to giving up. You wanted to say something to Maddie, and I told you no.” 

Evan nods, having the vaguest recollection of that. He looks back up at Tommy. “But then you just vanished into the ether.” 

Tommy shrugs. “I sent flowers. And besides, you had a girlfriend.” 

Evan narrows his gaze at him again, but this time there’s mirth in his expression as he pushes himself up and slots a leg over Tommy’s hips, straddling him. 

“You mean to tell me I could’ve had you five years ago,” he states, moving his hands down to the hem of Tommy’s shirt, sliding his fingers beneath it. Tommy jolts at the iciness of his fingers. He smirks at Evan as he reaches for his hands, squeezing them. He leans forward, kissing along his jawline. 

“Wouldn’t have been nearly as fun then,” he replies. “We were both still figuring stuff out.” 

Evan pushes his hands further inside Tommy’s shirt, fighting against his loose grip to press his cold palms flat against his abs. Tommy growls softly, biting on his jaw. Evan settles back on his haunches and tilts his head, reaching out for one of Tommy’s hands. He brushes his fingers gently along the scars on his face, down to his chin, and then over his heart. 

“I love you,” Tommy murmurs, brushing his thumb back and forth on Evan’s chest. Evan leans into him, pulls him into a searing kiss as his hands find their way back under Tommy’s shirt with only one intention in mind. 

“I love you too.” 

[whump-imagines]

Lightning and Panic

I swear I will write for other characters too... I'm just currently deep in Buck and Eddie brain rot.

Buddie x reader

Wc: 1300 ish

You pinched your arm, flinching at the sensation. There was no way this was real. This was your worst nightmare. You just needed to try harder and you were sure you would wake up.

Pinching the same spot once more, you realized that you were likely going to have a bruise soon.

Yet again, you were sitting in this awful waiting room. It felt like you had just been here waiting for news was after Eddie was shot.

Now, it was Buck.

It had been two days of waiting. Two days of worrying. Two days of desperately trying to convince yourself that he was going to be okay.

You knew they had a dangerous job. You thought you'd been prepared for that. You expected burns or maybe smoke inhalation. Not a sniper and a freak lightning strike.

Truthfully, you'd only prepared for minor injuries. Not near death experiences.

Suddenly, Eddie was kneeling in front of you. Why did he look so concerned? Something went wrong. Buck was gone.

He was talking. Why couldn't you hear him? Why are your ears ringing?

Eddie squeezed your hands almost too tight. He was trying to ground you. He took a slow exaggerated deep breath then finally, his words broke through your haze. “Breathe.”

It was then you finally realized you were barely wheezing air in and out and much too quickly. Your heart was racing. You gasped. “I-I–” more gasping. “C-c-can’t.”

Eddie moved your hands to his chest. “Yes, you can. Just follow me.” His fingers dug into the pulse point at your wrist as he took another slow beep breath and counted the pattern for you.

Tears rolled down your face as you desperately tried to calm down. You yanked your hands away from Eddie to pull at the collar of your shirt. It suddenly felt like it was strangling you.

Eddie turned toward Bobby and said something to him about a doctor. Had he whispered? Maybe. Your ears were also ringing more intensely again.

Now, you were grabbing at your chest. “H–hurts,” you panted out the word.

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie soothed. “Just try to breathe.” He pulled your hands back down to your lap and once again pressed his fingers into your pulse point. You could see the worry in his eyes despite trying to stay calm for you.

You desperately tried to draw in more air but failed. Before long, black spots started to appear in front of your eyes. Then there was a doctor. He had to be there about Buck. You tried to back away, you couldn't handle any more bad news. “No.”

Eddie moved to the chair beside you and pulled you against his side. “It's okay, sweetheart. He's here to help you.” He pulled up your sleeve then nodded to the doctor.

There was something cold on your shoulder then a pinch and a burning sensation. You couldn't move away from it as Eddie had you held firmly in place.

Almost immediately, you felt calmer. You relaxed fully into Eddie and finally drew in a deep breath. A nurse you hadn't noticed placed an oxygen mask over your face.

You felt Eddie’s sigh of relief. “You're okay.” You weren't sure if he was talking to you or himself. “The doctor is going to run a few tests just to make sure that was a panic attack and nothing else, okay?”

You tried to snuggle further into him not wanting to leave his side. “‘m tired.”

“I know. Just relax. It's okay if you fall asleep,” Eddie soothed. He stood and lifted you into his arms bridal style. You dozed off with your head against his shoulder before he made it to the exam room.

When you opened your eyes, you were alone in a hospital room. As the grogginess started to lift, confusion set in. Why were you here? Why were you alone? There were no monitors or IV lines and aside for being tired, you felt okay.

Then the memory hit. Buck. You jerked upright. “Oh, no.” You would have stood to go find out how he was but you were suddenly dizzy. So instead, you pressed the nurse call button on the bed rail.

The dizziness mostly cleared and you were considering going to look for Eddie and check on Buck when the door swung open and a doctor entered. You vaguely remembered him from the waiting room earlier. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

“How is Buck?” you asked, ignoring his question.

Before he could answer, Eddie came in and was by your side a moment later. “How are you?”

You huffed. “How’s Buck?”

Eddie smiled. “He's breathing on his own. He's getting better.”

Tears slid down your face as the relief washed over you. You finally felt like you could breathe again.

“Now, back to you,” Eddie redirected. “Are you feeling better?”

Shrugging one shoulder, you thought about it. “Honestly, I'm still tired. I was dizzy but that's passed. How long was I out?”

“Almost five hours,” said Eddie.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Holy crap. Wait, I thought I heard something about tests.”

“You did.” Eddie looked to the doctor to let him explain.

“We ran an EKG and blood tests because you were having some chest pain during your anxiety attack,” he explained. “Everything came back normal.”

“So then am I captive here or can I go see Buck?” you asked.

“You're free to leave,” the doctor said. Then he left the two of you alone.

“I'm sorry,” he started. “I should have been paying attention. I should have noticed you hadn't really slept or eaten. Or at least that you hadn't taken your meds.”

You just shook your head. “It's not your fault. We were both focused on Buck.”

“I still should have noticed.”

“You noticed when I was having an attack and got me help. That's all that matters.”

He just nodded, not seeming convinced.

“Can we go sit with Buck?” you asked.

“Maddie and their parents are in with him right now,” Eddie started. “How about we just go look through the window so you can see he's okay and then we go home so you can get some more rest?”

“I don't want to leave him. What if something happens?” You felt yourself spiraling. “What if something happens and– and we're not here?”

Eddie took your face between his hands and forced you to look at him. “Breathe.” He demonstrated a deep, calming breath for you. “He is stable. They don't expect anything to change overnight. And even if it did, we're not that far away. Okay?”

You took a few deep breaths. “Mmkay.”

“Besides, you know Buck would want you to rest and take care of yourself rather than sit around here.”

“Ugh. Fine,” you conceded. “Can we not tell him about my panic attack earlier?”

Eddie shook his head. “We can wait until he gets home. Unless he asks directly because I won't lie to him.”

You agreed and the two of you made your way towards the ICU. It really did help you to see him doing better. Leaning your head on Eddie’s shoulder, you were content to just stand I'm that hallway until Buck woke up but Eddie wouldn't go for that.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“No,” you told him truthfully. “But we can anyway.”

A week later, Buck was finally coming home. You were practically vibrating with excitement.

Walking into the house, you tried to lead Buck towards the bedroom but he stopped you and attempted to head toward the couch. “You need to be resting,” you scolded him.

“Are you going to rest?” he asked.

“Me?” You asked, confused. “I'm fine. I didn't die a few days ago.”

Buck frowned. “The doctors ran tests to make sure you weren't having a heart attack because you nearly passed out from a panic attack.”

You scowled at Eddie. “When did you tell him?”

Eddie just shrugged. “He asked while you were loading up the car. I told you I wasn't going to lie to him.”

You sighed. “Regardless, I'm fine.”

Eddie shoved you and Buck towards the bedroom. “I think we could all use some rest. Let's all go take a nap and then we can watch a movie and eat take out in bed.”

“Sounds amazing. Except, when do we need to pick up Christopher?” you asked.

“Carla is keeping him overnight so we can get Buck settled in,” Eddie explained.

Buck nodded. “I vote pizza.”

“Deal,” you and Eddie agreed in unison.

[rubyvhs]

remedy (iv) — sam winchester

> prev , series masterlist

summary: maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to go back to sam’s place. or maybe it’s a good thing you did — tags: underage!reader, 22 year old!sam, med student!fem!reader, cursing, mentioned praying, canon divergence.

There’s a man, a very beautiful one, sure, standing in Sam’s apartment. His eyes are hungry as they glide over you. His… eyes. That seem way too similar to those the man next to you owns yet so different. His are a bright green for one, you’re scared to stare too long in them incase they grow trees. Cliche? Doesn’t matter, it’s the truth, they’re so green.

You can’t hear what’s going on, but him and Sam seem to have a full on conversation with no words. Maybe the other guy won because he takes the step forward as Sam sighs and shuts the apartment door behind you guys. You keep your hand close to your purse and you can feel it vibrate vigorously, you’re sure it’s Jess wanting information on what the fuck you’re doing at Sam’s house— which great question, what are you doing here?

Cause you were thinking talk, eat, make out, not particularly in that order. Now it seems ‘talk to random guy while you try not to have a panic attack’ has been added to the list. Well, too bad, the list is exclusive. “Now who are you?”

Sam says your name through gritted teeth, “this is my brother Dean.” You swallow your fear and nod once. Introducing yourself despite Sam having done it a second before. “What are you doing here, man?” Sam walks away from the door to throw his car keys onto the counter, a few feet away from you, closer to Dean.

“Doesn’t matter now, seems like you’re busy,” and he’s actually smirking. At you. Why is it kind of attractive— no, focus! Focus on your surroundings, and count to ten so you don’t explode. “Of course, I wouldn’t dream of taking him away from you, sweetheart.” Dean says so sweetly that you actually believe it’s for your own benefit, he’s closer now, both hands hovering over your arms but not exactly touching which you’re grateful for. 

You smile tightly and look up at Sam in a silent call for help. “Why are you here, Dean?” He repeats sternly and crosses his arms at his brother. You’ve always noticed how small Sam makes himself when he’s talking to other people, mostly girls, like he doesn’t want to overpower them when he easily could, it helps calm you down, for sure, but when he’s doing it with his brother, it’s different. 

It’s out of love, devotion, trust. And it’s scary to see because you feel like you’re watching a scene that’s not yours to analyze. But he’s letting you. Dean winks at you once before turning around to face Sam. 

“Let’s talk. Privately.” Dean clicks his tongue in the direction of Sam’s room and he agrees, moving over to you again, putting both hands on your shoulder. It has the opposite effect that dean’s had on you. It’s calming— sedating. 

“You stay in my room, I’ll come get you.” And then he steals glances around your whole face, like he’s studying your features, “do you wanna leave? I can drive you home.”

You open your mouth to protest before shutting it again. Does that mean he wants you to leave? Is it an indirect un-invitation? He looks sincere though. “I’m askin’ ‘cause I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable. Nothing else.”

You take a breath before shaking your head, then decide to use your voice like the big girl you are— because otherwise you’re a toddler, scared by her fathers side at the mall. “Yeah, I’ll stay in your room. But if you want me to leave, Sam—.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gives you a half smile but it’s enough to melt your insides. “You can use whatever you want in there, and the Wi-FI’s password is written on the wall.” You all but run into his room and away from the two brothers, shutting the door with a loud slam. 

This is super normal and not at all worrying. You should text your mum in case it’s the last time. Hold that thought— Jessica first. 

As promised, the password is on the door, written in a paper stuck on the back of it. You put it in then text Jess back.

Jess: What is happening!!!!

Jess: What’s happened to ‘never gonna happen’.

Jess: Are you fucking? Don’t tell me.

Jess: Don’t fuck him!!!! He could be not single.

What. The. Hell. 

You: What?

Jess: Thank fuck. You’re not having sex, right? Or did he finish already? Jess: He used to be better at it.

You: What do you mean he’s not single?

Jess: Not saying he isn’t but Gen says he’s been talking to some girls, it’s why she was worried about you going out.

Jess: We don’t know if he’s just friends with these girls or not but she says he’s been texting + going out with Lily.

You: Oh but they’re project partners.

Jess: Yeah they just got assigned today. They’ve been going out alone for a few weeks now.

You: Before or after the party?

Jess: Since before. They didn’t stop after the party either. 

God, you’re going to be sick. Great so he’s dropping off the face of the earth with his brother, but before he does that he’s breaking your heart. ‘Cause why the fuck do one when you can do both? 

And the worst part is you have no reason to be upset about any of this. He doesn’t owe you an explanation about Lily or Dean or whether or not he’s taking the semester off or if he’s staying after graduation— it’s all a lot. You thought this would be the beginning of something. Something worthwhile, and he was having fun, just passing the time.

You enter the bathroom to make sure your makeup is still intact. It isn’t, but you did it up quite quickly and have enough time to snoop around. You can cry over a man when you’re alone in the comfort of your room, not his. Even the room is so perfectly him. There’s pictures almost everywhere and you remember hearing him or Jess mention how much he’s into photography, took after his mother. He’s in only two of the pictures. 

One of them has Dean and an older man you assume is their father. The other is him and Jess, back from when they’re dating— other than that it’s mostly scenery and his friends. There’s even one of Jess and Gen with your best friend laying her head on Gen’s lap. 

You’re about to ruffle through the desk when you hear rustling and a loud groan from one of the boys. Then another and— oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck, are they fighting?

When you’re mother first equipped you for America she had two rules:

Don’t speak to strangers.

Hold rocks in your purse to hit said stranger if they want to fight.

That’s really all, and you’ve held up your end of the deal. But she never really told you what to do when the stranger isn’t a stranger and you’re actually in their house and he’s fighting his brother. 

You peek through the window and— nope, you’re on the third floor. Too far away to jump. Maybe you should try to rummage around here for a cigarette? Yeah, that’s a good idea. You desperately go through drawers without actually going through them— you don’t want to invade his privacy, just find the damn pack you know he has around here— oh, a disposable. Okay, pOtato, potAto.

You take a second to pray that it’s not dead before taking a drag and, thank God, blueberry. Huh, seems like Sam has a preference. Maybe he asked Jess to bring blueberry cigarettes last time, now that would be a turn of events. And it would also mean he lied to you, how are you supposed to feel about that? About the same way you feel about him hanging out with Lily? He never mentioned it. And back at the mall he said ‘I don’t wanna leave you’, what, did he say that to Lily too? Is he trying out to become an anchor? 

You take three more drags before the door is thrown off its hinges and Sam stomps right through it and into his bathroom. Oh. He doesn’t even spare you a glance and you find yourself looking for dean. He’s right there, breathing just as heavily as Sam was, but that didn’t stop him from sending another wink your way, a little slow and lazy.

For the first time in your life, you decide to muster up enough courage to walk over to him, offering his brother’s vape to him. Look at that, your mother did teach you manners.

He shakes his head and takes a step back to lean on the kitchen counter. The support is welcomed by his whole body as he almost collapses into it. “We didn’t scare you, did we?”

Fuck yeah, you’re scared. Who does this dude think he’s talking to? An FBI agent? You’re a college girl studying Med, hearing police sirens while you’re walking at night creep you out.

But you shake your head anyways because, again, manners. “Are you okay?” You ask with genuine concern. You step a little closer to examine the bruise on his head, right below his hairline. 

Does that mean that Sam had a matching one? Should you go help him?

“Sam’s fine.” Oh. That’s good.

“But you’re not. Do you know where he keeps his first aid kit? I can clean it up for you.” Dean adamantly shakes his head, making you frown. Wasn’t he hitting on you minutes ago? Now he doesn’t wanna touch you? “Dean, are you sure? You should really clean that up. It might get infected.” Highly unlikely but it’s not good to keep it unsterile anyways.

“I’m fine,” he grits out, but it’s not as harsh as you expect. He’s just overwhelmed, maybe, or angry. At himself? At Sam? At you for intruding? And then he sighs, takes an incredibly deep breath like it’s taking everything in his soul and mind to say, “‘fine, yeah, you can do it.” As if you offered to blow him or something. Grow up, man, you were just trying to help.

Again, manners. So you keep your polite tone as you ask him again for the first aid kit and he says this is his first time here. Great, you’re both strangers in Sam’s home but at least one of you was invited, Dean.

“You don’t seem to like me very much.” He says quietly as you keep opening and shutting drawers. Sam’s a responsible guy, he must have something lying around. 

“I don’t not like you. I just don’t know you. And Sam is my friend who you just beat up so I’m not exactly fond of you at the moment, no.” Honesty’s great. Yeah, give it right to the man who’s a couple inches taller than you and packing on more muscle than you can imagine yourself having if you workout for ten years straight. Smart ideas all around, really. 

You take another longer drag this time. The buzz is worth it, it’s helping you relax enough that you’re not about to blow your head off about being in Sam’s house with Dean.

Another hit: from both the vape and Dean, “He hit me first.”

“Did you provoke him?” Dean shrugs like a child trying to feign innocence. It’s obvious this is all Dean’s fault and he knows it, you just wish you knew the reason. “Why, though? What happened?”

He hesitates then shuts his mouth closed. Now he chooses to be a good brother?

You find the first aid kit under all the drawers (which, fuck you, Sam, why would you do that?) and ask Dean to sit on one of the chairs. He obeys and you start to take out the rubbing alcohol, “this part will sting a little, so try to hold on to something— not me!” You shriek when his hands land on your waist. 

“Closest thing,” he shrugs like it’s nothing and you take a deep breath, applying more alcohol to the cotton. He can take it.

He doesn’t groan out when you pat the cotton onto the small wound, just hisses. The man hisses like he just got cold coffee spilled on him, the wound isn’t massive or anything, but really? How high is someone’s pain tolerance to be able to do that? 

You don’t want to think about it because tolerance is built. And that’s just… not a fun thing to ponder on. You try to finish as quickly as possible and half way through his hands on your waist don’t bother you anymore, a minute after, he eases them off. Dean doesn’t seem like he wants to cause issues, he’s just… troubled. Though you’re sure he’d deck you twice as hard as he did to Sam if you mention that.

Speaking of the devil, he’s out of the bathroom with fresh clothes but it’s apparent he didn’t shower. Just in his home clothes. Cute considering you’re not which means you’re overdressed between the three of you. You finish Dean up and place a bandage on the bruise. “There!” 

You smile as you examine your work and move back. Your first ever patient! It’s exciting to think you did so well without any guidance even when your hand was shaking the whole time. “Thanks, angel, where’d you learn that?”

“Angel?”

“She’s in Med. What are you still doing here, Dean?” Sam’s voice is rough, like he’s been shouting. Were they yelling? How did you not hear them? 

Oh, the buzz. Would giving Sam the Dispo now be rude? Come to think of it, taking it was rude. Oh, God, is this what stealing feels like?

“Hey,” Sam calls your name and you snap out of it, whipping your head back to face him. “You okay?” He’s wearing a black shirt. Just plain black, which is tight in all the right places, and grey sweatpants. Grey sweatpants. Who on this earth sold this man grey sweatpants? What were they thinking? They weren’t obviously, but you are. You can see it clearly now: College Girls Drop Dead At The Hand Of A Sam Winchester. Reason Of Death: The Sweatpants. 

“You okay?” Why is he asking again? Were you staring? 

“I’m fine. Are you?” You walk away from Dean and his magnetic hold on you to check Sam out. Last time you touched him was— never. He’s always touched you first. So… here goes nothing. You had your hands up for a second, asking for permission, consent, whatever, and his gaze switches from your eyes to your lips then back again so you take it as a yes and move his hair from his face. 

There are no injuries, you’re sure of it, but maybe you should run your hands through his hair just in case. For his safety. You drop your hands like it’s on fire before you actually do it and smile up at him. “Good, you’re okay.” He nods and looks past you, probably at Dean and you sigh. Okay. Night ruined.

“Okay, so, I’m gonna go and I’ll see you—” Sam furrows his eyes brows and shakes his head placing his hands on your shoulders. Again.

“No, no, you said you stay. We agreed to it.”

“Right, but that was before I knew your brother was staying over—”

“He’s not. You can still take Gen’s room. Don’t worry. He’s just leaving, right, Dean?” He bites out and your eyes widen. 

“No, no, Sam, seriously, not a big deal—”

“Do you wanna leave?” How is that relevant! You don’t, honestly. After hearing what Jess had to say about Sam and now Dean’s beat up face, Sam wanting to leave, it’s a lot to process. And you were fine with processing it next to Sam as long as you guys could talk about it but he seems on edge now, erratic, you don’t want to mess with him, or stay in a house alone with him when he’s like this. 

He doesn’t seem like he’ll hurt you, infact, his face softens the second he looks at you, but you can’t risk it. “Sam, it’s not that I don’t want to…” He raises his eyebrows for a second before scoffing letting go of you. “It’s not… it just seems like there’s a lot for you right now, I don’t want to get in the middle of that.”

“I want you in the middle of it.” Is someone escorting Dean out or will you have to confess your feelings in the middle of the crowded kitchen/living room? “But if you want to leave then I’ll drive you, it��s fine. I just need you to know that I want you to stay.”

And with those eyes? Those eyes and that hair falling over those eyes? How can you say no? You let out a shaky breath before throwing yourself into his chest and he easily wraps his arms around you. This is probably the second time you’ve hugged ever, but it’s worth every second because Sam’s so much taller than you in a way that’s comforting beyond belief. Not just because he tries to make himself smaller, but because he carries himself that way too. Small equals ‘there for you’ and ‘your wall’. And he kind of is. His arms are solid against you back and you feel a strand of your hair get caught in between his fingers. 

It doesn’t take a few seconds for you to pull away— both out of respect for Dean and because you don’t want to overdo it with Sam. “I’ll stay. In Gen’s room.” He nods like it’s the end of it but you add, “If you promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t kick me out.” He frowns. You take out the vape from your back pocket, “I found it in your drawer. Sorry.” He smiles and leans down to your ears, “what’s mine’s yours, sweetheart.” He’s saying it to be kind, whatever, but it still makes your heart flutter to hear. 

He points to the room behind his, the only other door in the apartment, says it’s Gen’s room and that the sheets are clean. Which translates to: ‘go inside and I’ll get rid of Dean’.

True to his unspoken words, Dean is gone in less than fifteen minutes and you’re kind of disappointed you didn’t say goodbye. Sam comes into the room to find you on the bed, vape in one hand, phone in the other, texting.

“What’re you doing?” He shuts the door behind him and your eyes skim your surroundings. Alone in a room with Sam. 

“Texting. Jess. She’s been worried the whole night and I didn’t want her to freak out.”

“Oh, why’d she be freaked?” Fuck your brain and your oversharing tendencies and fuck you Sam for being obversant.

“Just— you know—”

“I don’t.” Well, duh, or else you wouldn’t ask, but the answer isn’t one you’re willing to give so you shrug and lean into the bed further, still above the sheets. You can’t believe you’re sleeping in jeans just to stay over at Sam’s. The things you do on low sleep, man. “Are you comfortable?” At least he isn’t a dick that insists on your answer.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just, you’re wearing jeans.” 

“That’s what I came with, yes.”

“Do you wanna change? I can get you something else to wear? Besides, aren't you cold?” He’s right, the only thing that was keeping you warm was the green jacket you had on which was discarded on the chair, leaving you in a tank top. You’re cold, sure, a little uncomfortable, maybe, but enough to take Sam’s clothes… yes, you’d take them even if you weren’t freezing your ass off.

“What do you have?” You smile a little before he points to Gen’s closet and oh. Right. The other girl that lives here. “Sam, no it’s fine, I don’t want to intrude on Gen.” Rummaging through Sam’s thing while he’s in the room next to you is fine, using Gen’s clothes while she’s in another house? Not respectful. 

“She wouldn’t mind—”

“Honestly, I’m not that cold.”

“You’re shivering.” Not to sound like a three year old or anything but someone could practically blow on you and you’d shiver. It's not that serious. But when you tell him that he shakes his head and walks out of the door. Is he pissed off? Like actually genuinely pissed off? Should you look through Gen’s closet for something to wear so he’d be okay? That seems wrong but… it’s his house, his rules.

You’re still heavily overthinking it by the time he comes back and you let out a breath of pure relief. He can’t be that mad if he’s back. And he’s handing you clothes. “Here, mine. So your moral obligations can rest.” You smile and shake your head, getting out of the bed. His hand’s extended so you take it anyways.

“Sam, I’m fine like this—”

“I’m not letting you sleep in jeans, and you can’t convince me to.” You notice his dimples for the first time. Sam is all smiles whenever he’s around people, but you’ve never actually noticed his dimples before, and they’re just as perfect as the rest of him that you’re jealous. And in love, just a little. 

“Sam,” you call out as he turns to walk out. He knows what’s coming. You know what’s coming. Your sister knows what’s coming (you found time to fill her in). “What happened with Dean out there? I thought you said he’d want you to leave. Didn’t you want to go with him?”

His shoulders deflate and he turns around. “It’s nothing, just got rough.”

“Meaning? Come on, he was the whole reason we went out tonight then you find him at your house and you’re not freaked? Tell me what happened.” Pushy is one word to call what you’re doing. Another is fucking annoying. You won’t even say the third.

“Dean’s— Dad. Our Dad is… he’s gone or he’s hiding or something and Dean wants me to look for him.” His dad is lost… as an exterminator? Okay… 

“Why aren’t you guys freaked out?”

“Because he’s usually just takin’ a break from Dean or something but Dean says he’s sure that he’s actually gone missing—”

“Then call the police.” You say obviously and Sam purses his lips. He’s not irritated, but he looks like he doesn’t want to explain the situation to you so you back off. “I’m going to change.” You say as you head for the bathroom door, “but look, Sam, talk to me, okay? If you want. Or Lily or Jess but talk—”

“Lily?” He interrupts with a scowl, a hand coming up to tame his slightly messed up hair. 

“Yeah, you know, your friends.”

“Me and Lily aren’t like… friends friends.”

“I don’t know, people say otherwise,” okay now he’s irritated, “but anyways, none of my business obviously, I’m going to change.”

“Hey, stop doing that. Stop avoiding something the second you say it! Why would you bring up Lily?”

You bite your bottom lip between your teeth and shrug, the clothes suddenly feeling twenty kilograms heavier in your hand. “Jess said you guys have been going out for a while now. Which, you know, I don’t know how she’d feel about me staying over—”

“I told you she’s my presentation partner.” His voice isn’t raised, just seems like he’s trying to understand where you’re coming from and you sound like you don’t want to be having this conversation. Because you don’t. 

“Yeah, but Jess said you’ve been hanging out even before Lily’s birthday party and I just didn’t want to assume or anything, I guess.” He steps closer to you and you contemplate taking a step back but he’s already close enough to touch you now. He takes the clothes in your hands and placed them on the chair next to him. “Sam, it’s fine, obviously, I just don’t want her to be mad.”

“I’m not with Lily, and we’re not dating or anything. We study together sometimes, we’re friends and she’s cool but we’re just that. Friends.” You nod and take a step back to help you breathe better, “I’m not just saying that. We are.”

“You don’t have to convince me of anything, you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I don’t want you thinking that I like anyone that way,” he says the last word as he moves towards you. You’re trapped between his body and the bathroom door behind you. 

“Like a relationship?” He nods and you consider asking if he thinks of you like that but you couldn’t handle the rejection if you tried. 

You turn the knob around and slam the fucking door in Sam’s face. 

part five; smear the innocence of my lips.

title: beautiful boy by esha tewari

main masterlist

have no idea how I finished this in one sitting. 4k worlds in one sitting is my new record. hope you guys liked this one, I like where it’s going right now but I’m racking my brain for an ending soon if you have ideas tell me.

and if you wanna be tagged for future chapters, comment!

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@strabarrybat @anu-piyakya97

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

That final line - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader

Summary: Things have changed between Joe and Reader after bearing witness to the Concentration camp. They moved from being best friends to something more emotionally intimate. Now that the war in Europe is over will they cross the last line and become physically intimate?

Warnings: 18+ content (smut, p in v) angst-ish (mentions of war & concentration camp), comforting each other, tooth rotting fluff at end, she/her pronouns (no use of y/n or 1st person POV, but told from Liebgott's perspective sorta).

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: I love how this turned out. Basically this is just my own self-indulgence wish that I could have held and taken care of Liebgott after that scene of him crying in the truck. As always, let me know what you think! I tried a different writing perspective and I like it, hopefully you do too. Comments, likes, and reblogs make me happy and feel validated!

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Joe Liebgott would forever be a different man. Easy Company had just liberated Kaufering IV but that included locking the poor souls back up for the medics to be able to try and get them back from the brink of death. The whole thing had left Joe feeling broken and full of pure rage and despair he didn't know how to get rid of it. So he grabbed a bottle of wine and wondered till he found a tree isolated enough he wouldn't easily be found. He just needed space.

He'd been alone for hours, judging by how low the sun was hanging, bottle long since empty, and eyes sore and dry from tears when he heard a twig snap. Looking around the tree, his heart both swelled and shattered at the sight of the person walking towards him. She was his best friend, been that way since Toccoa and all through the war thus far. The only person that could calm him down when his hot-headedness got the better of him and always had his back in every combat situation. He never had to worry when she was around. She was also the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and had long since accepted that his heart would always speed up a little when she was in eyesight. While his heart had the usual reaction at seeing her, he couldn't help but feel broken anew at the sadness on her face and emptiness in her eyes. He wasn't the only one tore up from their recent experience.

"I've been looking for you everywhere." She speaks barely above a whisper as she drops down next to him, already leaning against his arm.

"I'm sorry, I just had to get away for a while. I should have found you and brought you with me." He leans over to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

There's a beat of silence and then she speaks again, still in a low whisper, "Do you think they'll make it?"

The words are a dagger to his already bruised and bleeding heart. He gives a small sniff, trying to hold back the fresh tears.

"I don't know." He feels her turn her body towards him and knows she's taking in his appearance detail by detail.

"You can let it out, Joe. I know this is tearing you up. Please don't hold it in and let it destroy you." One hand grasps his while the other gently takes his chin and turns his head so their eyes meet. He tries to push the emotions back down and come up with something to say, but he loses all resolve when her hand moves to cup his cheek and wipe away a stray tear that falls out.

Joe is suddenly wrapping his arms around her, pressing his face in the crook of her neck and letting it all out. He feels her shift them so he's laying mostly on her, her back against the tree and arms tightly wrapped around him. One hand is gripping the back of his jacket tightly, holding him to her, the other is gently stroking his head, and when he feels the side of his face getting wet he knows she's crying too.

They stay like that for hours, until the sun is nearly gone and all tears have been let out. Even after the tears, they don't move, finding too much comfort in holding each other. The only thing that gets them finally moving is their stomachs growling. Joe gets up first, holding his hand out to help her up and starts walking them back to find some food. He looks down briefly when he feels her intertwine their fingers and give his hand a squeeze. The first smile he's had in days makes it way across his face and he squeezes her hand back.

As the days dragged on ahead, their bond grew even tighter. There was a new level of safety and vulnerability that blossomed. Hands would brush more often, hugs turned tighter and longer, if they were able to they'd often be found napping together tangled limbs and all. It was as natural as breathing to seek the other out and before Joe knew it, he was hit with the realization that he was head-over-heels in love with his best friend.

The popping of yet another champagne bottle drags Joe from his mulling and takes in the sight around him with a smile. They are in the Eagles Nest, the war in Europe is over and everyone is finally able to relax and celebrate. He's sitting by Webster and Perco, watching the other's talk and laugh, already more than a little drunk. His smile widens when he catches her eye, sitting next to Malarkey and they salute each other from across the room.

"You ever gonna make a move, Lieb?" Perco's question lands like a bomb right in his stomach.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He looks at the man next to him like he's crazy, but inside he's frantic. Is it that obvious?

"Oh come on, Liebgott. The two of you have been attached at the hip the whole war, even back at training. We've all noticed the stolen looks between you. The wars over, just go for it." Webster gives him a shove, pointedly ignoring the glare Joe shoots at him.

"I gotta take a leak." Joe abruptly stands and leaves before either of them can continue their pestering. They're right, he knows they're right. Since accepting his feelings, the only thing that's been holding him back has been the on-going war. Sure there's still Japan to figure out but right now, their immediate part is over and he doesn't have to worry about dying and leaving her or worse losing her any second to a bullet or bomb.

Not actually needing the bathroom, he finds himself wondering the halls of the Eagles Nest and randomly picking a room to go into. It's spacious with a sitting area, a large comfortable bed sitting against the back wall, a door leading to an adjoining bathroom next to it and doors to the right leading to a balcony. He heads to the balcony, throwing the doors open and leans against the railing taking in the mountains and open valley. It's so quiet and peaceful, he doesn't know how to reconcile it with the horrors the owner and occupants have done to the people of this land.

"Why am I always having to search for you?" A soft, happy voice speaks behind him. Joe turns around and feels his breathe catch in his throat at how beautiful and easy going she looks, leaning around the doorframe to the balcony. When he didn't respond, she stands up a little straighter. "What? Is there something on my face?"

Joe shakes his head and moves to stand in-front of her, raising his hand to trail a finger down her cheek. "You're beautiful."

"How drunk are you?" Her voice is playful, but Joe knew his words were having an effect on her based on the blush she now had.

"Not even tipsy. But drunk or sober, you're still beautiful." His hand cups her cheek, tilts her head up a little to fully meet his eyes and he decides to cross that final line. "I love you. I love you fully and completely; body, mind, and soul. I need you, more than I need to breathe. If you don't feel the same, that's fine. I will lock my heart away to keep you in my life however you wish to be. But the war here is done and I'm out of reasons to not tell you how I feel. Tell me you don't feel the same and I'll respect that, but if you feel even close to what I feel please let me know."

Joe see's tears form in her eyes and for a heartbreaking second he's sure she's going to tell him 'no' and walk away. Then he feels her hands on his face and holds his breathe as she rises on her toes, stopping when her lips are barely brushing his.

"I love you, Joe. I'm yours; body, mind and soul." And then her lips are pressing against his and Joe thinks he's died and gone to heaven.

Their kiss is passionate and slow, taking full advantage that they don't have to rush and can take their time exploring. Joe starts nudging her backwards, back into the main room and towards the bed. A line of clothes marks their path as they help each other be rid of them, kissing freshly exposed shoulders and necks as they go. Soon enough they've managed to be rid of everything and tumble onto the bed in a heap.

Joe leans back just enough to take in the site of her underneath him. Face flushed, lips swollen and glossy from kissing, hair spread out like a halo, chest rising and falling hard as she tries to catch her breathe. He leans his head down pressing kisses to her neck, trailing down her collarbone, around the swell of her breast and ending at her nipple. He takes his time delivering languid licks and sucks, making her skin pucker and rise. Not wanting to leave the other one out of the fun, his hand cups, massages and pinches a little on the flesh there, his other hand hasn't stopped caressing any part of her skin he can reach.

If he has any doubts of how he's making her feel, the gasps and moans falling from her lips dispel them quickly. Soon enough her hands are in his hair and scratching down his back as she wraps her legs around his waist pulling him closer. Joe stops his minstrations on her breast with a groan when his erection is pressed right against her wet core and he can't help but roll his hips into her again. This time they both moan.

"Joe, please. I need you." Her voice is ragged and the lustful look in her eyes almost has him finishing right then. He shifts to the side a little, giving him room to run his hand down her side and cup her core. She's soaking and his brain short circuits a little.

His fingers make quick work of making sure she is coated properly, detouring to her clit to rub until she starts to whimper and pull at him. As he meets her eyes, he raises his fingers to his lips and sucks her taste off of them.

"Goddamn, baby. Next time I'm spending hours down there." He rushes out as he positions himself at her entrance. "But if I don't have you soon, I might die." He looks at her for confirmation that she's ready and when she nods, he starts pushing in slowly.

They groan together at the feel of him sliding into place like a puzzle piece coming home. Once he's bottomed out, he drops down to his elbows, putting more of himself on top of her and rests his forehead against hers. Her thighs tighten around him as she turns her head to kiss him.

"Move. Please." She bites his bottom lip at the same time she scratches his back again.

"Yes ma'am." He presses his lips firmly to her, swallowing the moan she lets out as he pulls out and quickly snaps back in. He finds a steady rhythm, angling his hips just right so he's brushing that sweet spot within her. Her back bows, pressing her chest further into his and exposes her neck to his lips. He doesn't waste any time placing a hard bite where it'll be hard to hide the mark already forming. This spurs something in her and soon her hands are in his hair, tugging his head to the side as she returns the favor.

Joe can tell she starts to get close to her release, as her walls start fluttering around him and her moans start becoming more frequent. He raises himself up, gripping the headboard with one hand and dropping his other hand down to rub her clit.

"I know you're close baby. Look at me as you let go." His voice is deep and commanding. Her eyes immediately lock onto his and his movements pick up speed. A few more hard thrusts and a pinch on her clit and she's moaning his name and clamping down around him. The feeling of her combined with his name falling from her lips like a prayer has him falling right behind her.

As they come down from their highs, they exchange slow kisses and 'I love you's'.

Bonus scene:

Not wanting to waste a beautiful day, the guys had decided to have an impromptu baseball game. Joe stood in his spot, waiting to bat next, sending a smile and wave to the stands where his girl was watching and cheering. They were getting ready for the next play when Winters came strolling across the field. They all crowded around him, fully expecting to hear their deployment orders for fighting Japan. Instead he was giving them the best news they'd heard since VE day. Japan had surrendered. The war, all of it, was finally over.

All the guys started cheering, exchanging hugs and pats on the backs. Joe see's her coming towards them at an easy jog, a curious look on her face. He gives her the biggest smile and runs right up to her, lifting her in his arms and spins her around.

"Japan surrendered. It's over. We're going home." Her smile matches his as she fully takes in his words and hugs him back. Just as quick as it started, Joe stops spinning her and sets her down on her feet, then he's down on one knee, holding her hands.

"Marry me. Come back home with me. Or wherever you wanna live. I don't care. Just marry me, please." Everything dulls around the edges as he holds his breathe, waiting for her response.

"Yes, Joe!" She smiles bright enough to blind the sun and then starts laughing when he jumps back up and starts spinning her around again. The only sound is the cheering of their friends and their hearts beating in sync.

[hyunjinswifelol]

study session. h.hj

warnings: weed, getting high, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f!receive), reader wheres skirt, reader is called y/n, reader is also fem mostly, hyunjin wears rings, reader is a teachers pet, use of slut

summary: reader goes to hyunjin to study, knowing hes really smart. they end up getting high together and do interesting things.

“excuse me, do you know which dorm room is uh.. hwang hyunjins dorm?” y/n asked. the front desk lady gave her a weird look. “why do you need to know?” “hes the smartest in my class and i need tutoring lessons” she said. “hes in room 238 on floor 4. be careful, hes not really a good kind of boy” “i-.. okay thanks!” y/n ran to the elevator, trying not to drop everything, including her bag. she pressed floor 4, and hoped he was even in his room. “room 238.. where is it” she questioned herself, wondering the halls. she found it. her heart was racing. she knocked. “y/n?..” “hyunjin!! hi, can you tutor me please? the math is terrible and-“ “you want me to tutor you?” hyunjin asked, sarcastically laughing. she nodded slowly, afraid he’ll turn her down. “is it too much? are you busy? do i need to come another time-“ “no y/n youre fine. i just wasnt expecting you to come to me” hyunjin said, scratching the back of his neck. she nodded again, less worried. he was much taller than her, she just realized. he was about 5’10, and she was about 5’2. hyunjin opened his door more and let her in. “thanks.. im sorry. i didnt mean to bother you or anything” she said, slightly looking down. “hey its okay.. i understand, schools hard you know? dont worry about it” she smiled and nodded. he was really cute she thought. “do you want a drink?” he asked. “sure.. do you have sweet tea?” hyunjin nodded. “oh sorry.. you can set your stuff down on my table and ill get everything ready” hyunjin said, pulling a chair out for her. “thanks, youre really a gentleman” she said, patting his arm. he blushed. “thanks.. i try to help nice to women. i also try to be nice to you, youre the most favorite in the school you know? the teachers love you” “my parents donated a bunch of money to the school, thats the only reason they love me” “youre really kind to them, they probably like that too, respecting teachers is really important” she nodded. he poured her a glass of tea. “do you smoke?” he asked, sitting down infront of her, handing her the tea. her eyes lit up, and went wide. “do i.. smoke?” he nodded. “do you? i have some weed, we can share a joint before we study, it’ll calm your nerves. youre tense honey” she nodded. “ive never done this before hyunjin.. is it okay?” “ofcourse it is, i wouldnt harm you” hyunjin stood up and went to the kitchen. y/n followed him. he went to roll a joint. he was rolling it up and making it a cigarette type to smoke. y/n was staring at his hands the whole time. the veins, the tings, the tendons, his long fingers. she wondered what they felt like inside her. no. she cant think like that. this is her classmate, and possibly new study friend. “your rings are cool” she softly said. “oh thanks! im glad you notic- how did you notice?..” he said. “i was staring” she mumbled, slightly embarrassed. “you were staring st my hands?” he said, genuinely confused. “yeah.. i mean you have nice hands” “thanks.. are you like.. obsessed with my hands?” “no.. i was just staring cause theyre nice. your nail polish is cool too” she smiled. “thanks” he smiled back at her. “okay done. wanna hit first?” “can you?.. i dont know how to do this” she said, looking at the floor embarrassed. “its okay, dont be embarrassed.. i wouldnt expect you to know how to smoke anyways” he said. he took a big hit, then blew out. “when you take a hit, you’ve gotta inhale it, be careful, it’ll make you cough” he handed it to her. “thanks” she said. she hit it, inhaled, choked a little, then blew out. “wow.. i feel weird” “its normal, after a few more puffs youll feel like youre floating, trust me sweetheart” he said. her cheeks got red at the pet name. she never really liked pet names if she’s completely honest, but she feels warm when he calls her pet names. he took another hit, and did it like a pro. she took another hit, but coughed alot. “its okay, youll get the hang of it” hyunjin reassured her. they took turns back and fourth. after a while, y/n felt very high, and very clingy. “hyunjin.. can we watch a movie?” she asked. “arent we supposed to study?”

“fuck studying” she said. his eyes went wide. she just cussed? “i-.. sure hun, what do you wanna watch?” “romance. like.. shrek!” “thats not a romance honey” he said laughing. “dont laugh.. and yes it is” “okay then..” he took her to the living room. he sat down. she was still standing though. “you can sit down you know..” he said smiling, but slightly confused. “can you spread your legs?” she mumbled. he nodded and did so. she sat in between them. he froze completely. “can you scoot back a little? i dont wanna fall off the couch” she looked back at him smiling innocently. he nodded. he scooted back. she layed back to where her back was against his chest. he got the remote and found shrek and started playing it. she hit the joint again. “jinnie i think im getting high.. am i okay?” she said, now being serious. “its normal love, trust me you’ll be okay” she nodded. she got herself comfortable. her head was resting in ghe crook of his neck, her thighs pressed together between his, her back against his chest, and her hands on his thighs. “this is comfy” she whispered. “good. it is” he smiled. her hair smelled really good. his arms were right beside his thighs, and y/n took that as an opportunity to gran then and wrap them around her waist. he looked down at it, and smiled. “hold me” she said. “okay honey” he said, smiling brighter than ever. she held the joint up to his lips and hetook a hit. she took a hit after him. she turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist. his arms were loosly wrapped around her waist. “hi lovely” he said. she blinked a few times. then smashed her lips on his. he immediately kissed back. his arms tightened around her. she pulled away after a moment. “can we go to your room?” she shyly asked. “what are you wanting to do in there that we cant do in here?” he asked messing woth her soft hair. “can you make me feel good?” she mumbled. hyunjins pants got tight, and she felt that. she was acting so innocent but shes not at the same time, hyunjin loved it. y/n got up and waited for hyunjin to. “right down the hallway lovely” he said, and held her hand softly. she went and sat on his bed, and he closed his door. the only lightin there was a lamp. she stared at him. he stared backat her. “are you sure you want this?” she nodded. “ive never done it before but i want you to be my first hyunjin. please?” she whispered. he nodded. he wanted this as much as she did. hes fucked multiple girls, but none like her. hes always thought that y/n was special and innocent and pretty, but that innocent thought was long gone. hyunjin kissed her, and they started making out. his tounge slid in her mouth, and he bit her bottom lip- making her whine. hyunjin felt his dick get harder. he slowly pushed her down to where she was laying on her back. his hands roamed her body, and she loved it. her mind and his were all fuzzy, most likely from being stoned, but for her it was that and the feeling of his hands all over her. his hand went down to her wet pussy. he broke the kiss. “do you want me to touch you sweetheart?” he asked, teasing her. “yes please” she whined. he rubbed her clothed clit and she moaned. “lets take these panties off okay?” he said, rubbing up and down her thighs. she nodded. he slip them down to her ankles and threw them somewhere across the room. hyunjin rubbed her clit, and it felt even better with her panties off. “you like that? you like my fingers touching you?” “yes- feels s-so good” she moaned out. hyunjin pushed his middle finger in her entrance. she whined and threw her head back on the bed. “you wanna lay down love?” he asked, still fingering her. she nodded. she scooted back to where her back was slightly against the headboard. he crawled in between her legs and he was face to face with her pussy. “can i?” he asked. “please” she whispered. and just like that that, his face was burried in her pussy. his tounge going in and out of her entrance at a fast pace. y/n’s mind was fully blank, only the thought of hyunjin eating her out like a pro. she grabbed his hair.

hyunjin looked up at her. she closed her eyes and whined. hyunjin came up and kissed her, and started fingering her again- but with two fingers. “hyunjin” she moaned. “yes darling? you like it? you like taking my fingers?” he softly said, playing with her hair in his other hand. she nodded and whined. “you look so fucking pretty. a princess getting fucked in that slutty skirt.. my princess getting fucked in her slutty skirt” she moaned. she liked him calling her a slut. “im your slut?” she whispered. “yes darling youre my little slut okay? youre my princess, my slutty princess” he said, fingering her at the fastest pace possible. “hyun- your fingers” y/n moaned out. “my fingers? you like them? they making my princess feel good?” he asked kissing her forehead. “yes they feel so good-your rings they feel” she said before moaning. “they feel good dont they” he said. she nodded. “lets take this little shirt off okay?” he said, pulling her little pink crop top off. she covered her chest. “hey dont cover or be shy my love” he said slowly pulling her arms softly. “here ill take mine off so youre not alone lovely” he said removing his fingers from her pussy. “hyunjin-“ she whined, feeling empty. “i know darling, youll get what you want soon, i promise” he whispered, taking his shirt off and going back down on her again. “you taste like heaven darling” he whispered. he sucked her clit, and she almost screamed. she bucked her hips in his face, practically riding it. “hyunjin im gonna cum- please can i?” she cried. “yes love” he tounge fucked her for a minute and she came right in his mouth. he slurped her juices and came up to kiss her again. she tasted herself. “lets get this slutty skirt off hm?” he said. she nodded, and he ripped it right off. he got off the bed for a minute. he unbuckled his pants and slid them off, as well as his boxers. his cock sprung right out. her eyes went wide in fear. it looked about 9 inches. she was worried it wouldnt fit. “will it fit hyunjin?” she whispered. “yes love, dont worry okay? ill take care of you” he said, laying her down. he aligned his cock with her hole. “im gonna go in slowly okay? squeeze my hand if it hurts” he whispered. he offered his hand and she held it. he pushed in his tip. she squeezed his hand a little. “you okay darling?” he whispered, his thumb carresing her knuckles. she nodded. “you got this” he whispered. he pushed in another 3 inches. he waited a moment and pushed in a few more inches. he still had about 4 more inches to go. so, he went balls deep in her pussy. “youre tight love” he said, smiling at her. “youre big hyunie” she said, eyes welled with tears. “do you want me to move now?” he asked, holding her hand tight. she nodded. he moved about halfway out and pushed back in very slow. he repeated that for a few minutes. “hyun.. faster please” she whispered, eyes shut tight. he hummed an ‘mhm’ and picked up his pace. “shit” he whispered. he went faster now. she moaned his name a few times. “hyunjin faster-“ she said, and then he went at a rapid pace. she moaned even louder than before. “im gonna cum darling, can i cum in you?” he asked. she nodded, tears streaming from her eyes. she felt herself getting closer too. she clenched around him, and then he came. she came a few seconds after him. he layed beside her. she was panting. “you did great love” he said, still holding her hand. sweat was dripping down his neck. she lookrd over at him, and stared at the sweat. she caused that sweat. “lets get cleaned up and head to bed hm?” he said. “im staying here tonight?” she asked. hyunjin stood up and went to grab a towel. “yeah.. if you want to obviously” he said and smiling at her. “can i sleep in here?” she asked, stars in her eyes. “ofcourse lovely” he cleaned themselfs off. she put her underwear and bra on. he put some boxers amd sweatpants on. “hyunjin?” “hm?” “can i borrow a shirt?” “ofcourse, let me get you one” he said. he walked to his closet and found a white t shirt. he handed it to her and kissed her forehead. she smiled and giggled. “what?” he asked.

“you give me butterflies when you kiss my forehead” she said, looking up at him and smiling. “then ill do it more often” he cockily said. she put the shirt on and collapsed on his bed. he layed doen next to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. she rolled over and shoved her face in his chest. “you smell good” she mumbled. “do i?” “mhm” he smiled. he kissed her forehead. “goodnight darling” he said. “goodnight jinnie” “love you” “love you too” she smiled. her face was in his neck and her arms were around his neck, while his was around her waist. they both eventually fell asleep.

[a-pups-writing]

Hi beautifullll💋🩷 got super excited when I saw ur ok with writing suicide, so can I ask for twst headcanons with first years + riddle when they learn that reader(gn) had a failed suicide attempt at ramshackle? Platonic or romantic, though I don't think it would matter much in this particular scenario. Thanks in advance, love ur writing💖

A/N; love this, and thank you for the kind words dear pink princess. No specification on what kind of suicide, so I'm going with an OD (overdose) hope that's okay. Also I have faves, I think its noticeable..

P.S.: if you ever deal with suicidal thoughts, you can and deserve to get help! Either from friends or a specialist, as someone who has the same problems it may feel like there isn't another out but there is. Life can be worth living. <3

CW; GN!reader, angst/fluff, suicide/mental health themes, some Sanders vibes(??)

Chars.; Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola/Deuce (??), Epel Felmier, Jack Howl

Riddle Rosehearts; Romantic

first thinks its a joke, albeit not a very funny one, when he's told you're in the infirmary from an apparent overdose. He even collars those who told him, unable to believe such lies and rumors.

still, he goes to the infirmary, just to see if there's any proof of you..having done something, maybe you just hurt yourself accidentally- his heart almost stops when he sees you lying there, on an IV drop.

you just look so frail on that moment, pale skin and shaky breaths - he's grateful for the heart monitor standing besides you, showing him your heartbeat.

he cries, while holding your hand and just waiting for you to wake up and come back to him. He's gonna have to be forced to leave (Trey comes to get him, only able to convince him with tarts and promises of returning the next day, he even leaves one of those tarts for you..just in case you wake up.)

during classes/when he's not with you he's more irritable then normal and he sometimes reverts back into his snappy behavior - he just worries so much, and everyone seems to be breaking more rules.

as soon as you wake up he's by your side, holding your hand while his own is shaking in pure happiness. He might even cry again, tho he tries not to let you see that part of him.

definitely gets you help as soon as you're discharged, you can talk to him (or Trey) but he'll also search for an actual therapist/psychiatrist.

depending on the problem he'll do his best to help you, like studying with you, talking to those who were rude, etc.

he starts treating you more carefully, not that he really means to but you just got so much more fragile in his eyes.

Ace/Deuce; Platonic

pure unfiltered panic and chaos. Ace slaps Deuce to get him to work again, and then Deuce has to slap Ace to do it in return.

they run to the infirmary, almost getting kicked out my one of the medics, but they're allowed to stay..as long as they don't start to make loud noises again or something similar.

Ace jut stares at you while Deuce actually started to shed a few tears - seeing you so lifeless is new, definitely blame themselves for not having noticed it earlier and thinking they're bad friends because of it.

they'll be more down in general/less energetic, and mostly try to stay by your side (tho it can get to Mich for Deuce, he just can't take seeing you like that.)

both start to ask you questions the moment you wake up, the most prominent one; WHY?! Was it them? Someone else?-

they only calm down after a little while, but don't worry it'll happen..soon..maybe..

as soon as you get discharged try to help you with everything, chores, homework, people. It'll get overwhelming, and you'll have to tell them to calm down, after a few times they lay off a little.

Epel Felmier; ?

what?..his little apple? Doing something like that? He can't believe it, but runs out of the lesson as soon as he caught wind of the rumor. (Much to Vil's dismay)

cries a little when he sees you, but does his best to hold it back for his own sake.

starts wondering why you did it, is it because of him? Is he not strong/manly enough? Was he to weak for you to feel comfortable coming to him? He just becomes an insecure mess.

looses some of his spark, and even while Rook tries to cheer him up it doesn't help. Even Vil lays off a little during that time, stress causes wrinkles after all.

as soon as he sees you awake its like a dam breaks and he can't stop crying and hugging you.

he's definitely the type to demand answers. He wants them, to help you, and he wants them now!

it'll take some talking to get the point of mental health across, how its not just something that can be put aside. But he'll listen and do his best to learn.

asks you how you're doing everyday, and might even ask Rook to look after you when he gets worried..just for your safety of course.

Jack Howl; platonic, kinda sire/cub (y'all want an romantic version?)

wolf boy is worried about his little cub, he believes it when he hears it and mentally prepares for the worst while jogging to the infirmary.

is calm..on the outside, the only tell is his tail being down and his ears flat against his head. On the inside he's a mess, thinking of what could have prevented this and how he can help you when you wake up.

stays mostly by your side, and gets more aggressive when he can't - actually growled at Leona when the man pissed him off, he's just constantly stressed and hoping you wake up - takes a toll on him.

sees you as soon as you wake up, he might not have a smile on but his tail sags and starts to wag quite a bit. He might even hugs you, but would mostly likely wait for you to open your arms/ask him.

much more protective of you, talks with you once a day about your mental health and even gets you a support plush. Its a little wolf, to help you in times of need.

Sebek; so sorry for the Sebek fans, I've never written for him before and am scared of just writing something completely OOC (out of character), I'm still practising how's to write him and until I feel confident enough I won't. I ask for your understanding.

[eepwriting]

Strawberry Lip Balm ✶ IV x GN! Reader

Warnings: drinking, kissing

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You had met iv through a friend of a friend. He slightly scared you at first, his mysterious nature and general presence making you nervous. Until he finally came up to talk to you, stating that his shyness usually came off the wrong way sometimes. You could tell he was nervous as well, his eyes never staying on yours long and his speech somewhat rushed.

The two of you had been invited to a small gathering of friends and acquaintances, which allowed you to talk to other people if things got too awkward between you and your new mystery friend. His small glances in your direction didn’t go unnoticed and you made an effort to smile at him if you caught his gaze. You’d like to think he was blushing under that mask of his. You were intrigued by him and found yourself wanting to know him, hoping he thought the same about you.

The night slowly died down, people leaving every 10-15 minutes as it got later. You excused yourself to the restroom, not wanting to leave before using it. IV noticed and stood up from his seat rather quickly.

“I’ve got to go too. I’ll walk you there.” He reached your side.

You smiled slightly. “Oh thanks!”

He led you out of the room and down a short hallway, stopping in front of a door on the left.

“Here’s one.” He slightly pointed into the dark room. “I’ll go use the one upstairs but I’ll meet you down here?”

“Oh, uh yeah.” You give him a laugh and smile before making your way into the restroom and closing the door behind you.

IV is out in the hall, his back against the wall in a casual lean when you open the door. He immediately straightens up when he sees you and by the way his eyes crinkle, you can tell he’s smiling at you. You smile back and step fully out into the walkway.

“So, uh I wanted to talk to you more tonight but it’s getting late and I don’t want to keep you out. Is there a chance we could meet again and get to know each other better?” His eyes stare into yours.

You silently cheer in your head, as you’ve waited all night for him to ask you a question like that. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Is tomorrow night okay? I’ve got kind of a crazy schedule.” You hope you don’t sound too excited.

“Tomorrow night is perfect. I know a nice pub not far from here if you’re okay with drinking?” The smile you wish you could see returns to his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m cool with that.” You say, in an attempt to sound cool and casual. The alcohol will surely help to soothe the nerves you’ll most definitely have.

“Great. Uh, could I get your number? I’ll send you the address and we can meet there?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket.

The two of you exchange numbers, you sending a small “hi :)” text to him to make sure he’s got the right number and pick a time to meet. You’re sad to leave, wanting to just talk now but he is right, it’s getting late and you have work in the morning.

✶

The day goes by in a blur. All you can think of is your little “date” with iv later, if that’s even what it is. You’re excited about the idea of getting to know him, to figure him out. When you get home from work, you take a quick shower and pick a simple but somewhat dressier outfit. You knew the place iv had picked wasn’t the fanciest but you still wanted to look nice.

You called a ride, knowing it wouldn’t be smart to drive home tonight. Out of nervousness, you called your ride early and arrived at the pub way earlier than the planned meeting time. You wanted a second to scope the place out, maybe get one drink in to calm down.

When the car pulls up to the sidewalk, you’re surprised to see iv standing outside. You tip the driver and push open your door. A small chuckle leaves your mouth as you walk up to him. “I guess we both had the same idea?”

He looks just as surprised as you and laughes. “I guess we did.” His head snaps to the side slightly. “Shall we head in?”

The pub wasn’t too busy, mostly full of what you assumed were regulars based on the way they chatted with the bartenders. It was still early in the night so you wanted a table before it got too crowded. It was your pick, settling on a booth in the far corner of the pub. Before iv sat down he got your drink order and excused himself, coming back a short time later with your drink of choice and his. He sat down across from you and lifted his mask slightly to take a sip of his drink.

“This is a nice place.” You said, setting your forearms on the table and leaning forward slightly.

“It’s not bad. Perhaps not my first choice but it’s homey.” He matches your position.

The conversation starts off surface level. Basic interests and dislikes. You know, favorite movie, color, food, 20 questions. IV gets up periodically to get refills and by the hour you’re pleasantly tipsy and not so nervous. IV is a great listener and is pleasant to talk to, always seeming genuinely interested in what you’re saying.

Having left to get another drink, he reaches the side of the table and instead of sitting across from you, scoots in next to you. Jokingly, he pushes up against you, crowding you against the wall. “Oops, just wanted to sit next to you. A little more crowded in here, wanna be able to hear you.” He laughs and lets his knee rest against yours.

He slides your drink over to you. His arm swings up and around your shoulders, his hips slide forward in the seat, body in a comfortable slouch. His other arm rests on the table, his fingers drawing shapes on his frosty glass. You internally scream. He’s closer now, touching you. He smells good and looks good. He’s showing his goofy side.

“So, tell me something you’ve never told anyone else.” He looks over at you.

You smile slightly, your shoulders coming up in a small shrug. “I don’t think anything I tell you would be all that interesting.”

“Oh come on. Everything about you is interesting.” He scoots closer, if that’s even possible.

His one question opens up a giant pool of conversation. You open up and tell him about some of your insecurities and some of your more unpleasant thoughts. The whole time he listens intently, giving you his undivided attention. It’s nice. To have someone who just listens. He doesn’t try to offer solutions, just gives you an ear. He opens up as well. Letting you see a little more of him and who he is. You’re grateful that he’s letting you in.

More drinks and more conversation ranging from deep to insightful to funny fill the next hour.

“These drinks are running through me. So, excuse me.” You jokingly poke and prod at his side in an effort to make him move.

“I’ve got to go too. I’ll walk you there.” You laugh as you stand up. His words are the exact same as yesterday and the whole reason the two of you are here tonight.

He places his hand on the middle of your back as he guides you through the significantly busier pub. The two of you both do your business once in the restrooms and meet outside.

While on your way back to your booth, you notice 4 people had made it theirs. Luckily you had brought your drinks with you and you had wanted to stretch your legs a little anyway. “I guess they beat us to it.” IV was behind you now, his voice close to your ear as he slightly leaned against you.

“I guess so!” You yell over the music before you feel iv grab your hand. He gently pulls you back through the small crowd, stopping at a wall on the far side of the pub. Less people and not as loud. Now in front of you, your back against the cool brick wall.

“Are you having fun? I’m sorry we have to stand now.” He leans down again, his temple brushing the side of your head.

“Yeah! And it’s okay, I was getting tired of sitting.”

He pulls his head back slightly but stays close to you. His eyes are glossy and you can tell he has a lazy smile on his face. You smile back, finding his tipsy state endearing.

Taking a sip of your drink, you’re reminded of your slightly chapped lips. You wanted to reapply your lip balm before you left the restroom but it had completely slipped your mind. You unzip the small bag you had brought and pull out the tube.

You look back up at iv as you take the cap off and find him still looking down at you. He sways forward an inch before leaning close again. “What flavor is your chapstick?” You don’t miss the way his eyes continuously flick down to your lips.

“Strawberry. You want a taste?” You rub your lips together and cap the balm. You’re genuinely surprised by your boldness, thanking the drinks in your system for helping achieve what you’ve wanted to do all night.

You see iv’s jaw tense slightly before he gives you a small nod. You can’t help but let out a drunken but giddy laugh as you bring your hands up to his mask. Your fingers slowly slip under, brushing his throat and neck before you pull it up over his chin and mouth.

You barely see him smile before you bring his mouth to yours. Giving him a small peck, you pull away just slightly, looking for a reaction. IV quickly leans back in, one arm coming to rest on the wall behind you. Your second kiss lasts longer but stays relaxed. You feel him smile into the kiss before you pull away to look at him.

He laughs. “I don’t think I got a good enough taste. Could I have another?” His hands rest on your hips, giving them a small squeeze.

“I guess that would be okay.” You joke, bringing your hands up and around the back of his neck. Pulling him back down to you, giving him another taste of your strawberry lip balm.

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I’ve had this idea rotting in my head for weeks now so here!!!

Once again, I apologize if this is shit.

Also, requests are open so if you want to see anything let me know!

K, bye bye.

[wrathofrats]

Mushy May Day 10- quiet nights

Aethers overwhelmed in the infirmary. Omega and delta calm him down.

Thanks to @forlorn-crows for the prompts this month!

Aethers eyes stung.

He stared at the speckled white countertop while delta whizzed past him once again to check someone’s beeping iv. His head felt fuzzy, his vision felt far away. A pressure behind his eyes he could only hope wasn’t any real tears, just exhaustion. The sterility of the air made his stomach turn, an absent thought granted to wonder when the last time he ate was.

“Hey, are you doing alright?”

A large hand rested on aethers back. Omegas voice was comforting, almost too much so. Enough that the pressure behind aethers eyes only deepened as he attempted to blink away whatever tears were forming. It shouldn’t be overwhelming, just the knowledge that omega recognized his emotions and cared, but aether can barely speak beyond the handful of napkins that felt wadded in his throat to express that he was ok.

The silence was enough for omega. He remembers his first couple months topside. Always either touring, practicing, or attempting to tend to any sick or wounded siblings. A constant rotation of activity and need. Delta also barely held it together as well when he was first thrown into the rotation of being a quint, mostly being sent down to help in the morgue. Hes always been better with them anyways.

But staff was short, and something was going around the abbey. It was just a couple minutes past midnight before they all had even gotten the chance to breathe. Aether felt as if he was holding constant pressure on a wound. Enough attention and force to hold the blood in, until it eventually stopped. The moment to calm down leaving it to bleed freely.

The beeping from down the hall stopped. Silence fell over the wing as static rushed to fill the space in aethers head.

“Just take a second aether, sit down” omega pulled out a chair and lightly pushed on his shoulder to get him to sit. Aether played with his hands nervously in his lap. He feels like he had forgotten something, like there was a mistake he missed, like there had to be something else to do.

Delta soon walked back to take his own seat in the nurses station, giving omega a concerned look over aether state.

“Jellyfish, can you grab aether some water?” Omega said quietly over his shoulder “and maybe one of the expired granola bars”

“I’m fine omega” aether finally spoke, looking up at the older ghoul. “Just a long night, I can handle it”

“It’s ok if you can’t”

Omega pulled up another chair into their little triangle when delta handed him the small snacks. It was a nice peaceful moment between them, omega wondered how many times they’d been able to sit together without it being band or work related.

“You haven’t drank any water in 5 hours. You’re upset because you’re dehydrated and hungry” delta mentioned matter of factly. Aether had to snort at the bluntness, taking a small swig of his water.

“Again, I’ll be ok. I’ll get used to it, a lot happened tonight but it’s fine” the granola bar made him cringe. The spoiled plastic taste on his tongue making him take another larger drink of water. He would have to tell papa later they needed a better supply of food back here, though he’s sure the others have mentioned it.

“Even delta still can’t handle it aeth, that’s why we banish him to the morgue. So we definitely don’t expect you to be ok with everything so soon” omega joked, sending a lighthearted smile to delta.

“I thought they sent delta to the morgue because he made the siblings uncomfortable?”

“They did” delta said

They couldn’t help but all giggle with each other, half a joke and half a truth, but delta never minded.

“You’re doing great, kid, just know that. I’m proud to have you here with us. Besides, the siblings love you”

“They do?” Aether asked

“Yeah, one earlier said that she wanted you to take her temperature with your-“

“Delta” omega warned

[catacombbee]

school bus graveyard headcanons because im thinking about them

and because im projecting

just general / random headcanons

Tyler has arachnophobia and entomophobia. creepy crawlies are a HARD NO for Mr. Hernandez. Jackass bullies? No problem. Phantoms trying to eat him? Easy. Tree? Been there, done that. Fucking spiders? get it the FUCK away. mans has a visceral skin crawling reaction to even SEEING something creepy crawlie. it's one of the only things that makes him seriously panic other than yk someone being hurt

Ashlyn has autism yes this is basically canon i think. BUT Ashlyn has a lot of texture sensitivities both with clothes and with food. itchy scratchy clothes are a no. she cannot stand t-shirts keeping their tags they rub and scratch her neck and it makes her want to scream. she cuts the tags out before wearing anything. and food she can't have anything too squishy or tough or else she just loses her appetite entirely.

^^ to build on the clothing tags. everyone else in the group cuts the tags out of their jackets/hoodies and some shirts so if Ashlyn wants to borrow something she can be comfortable

Aiden is down bad for someone wearing his clothes. this can apply to any ship you want, i like him with Ashlyn Tyler or Logan (ive like never seen any talk abt Aidgan? Loden?) but regardless. whoever it is Aiden likes he gets so giddy butterflies giggly seeing someone wear his clothes. this is moreso for Ashlyn or maybe Logan because Ashlyn is so much smaller than Aiden that his sweatshirt would probably hang off her and Aiden would just abdjshfkefbns she's so cute!! this is mostly an Aidlyn hc for me but Logan would also be cute in anyone else's sweatshirt

uh if it's not clear by now im a multishipper ive said it before BUT i like Tyben a lot. they find calm and quiet in each other and bond through expressing themselves through something much healthier: music. i adore Tyben. AND because of Ben in the canvas webtoon: Tyler calls him ladybug. "Hey ladybug" "It's okay ladybug ive got you" "ladybug, you okay?"

kinda related to previous one but like blush hc. Ben does not blush. maybe a little pink on his cheeks. but his EARS. his ears get so RED when he's angry or when he's flustered. his face might be 😐 but you look at his ears and they're red you know he's flustered

ALSO everyone learned ASL for Ben so he didn't have to just use notes n stuff. Aiden was already learning but everyone else picked up on it

Logan likes compact spaces, they male him feel safe and secure. Like the tire! He feels very nice and snuggly in his tire. But also like. under beds. in closets (haha). one time they played hide and seek in Aiden's house and Logan won because he fell asleep curled up in an empty cabinet. Logan loves being little spoon because he just fits snugly in everyone's arms

it's been mentioned Tyler plays guitar, but i hc that he's also a really good artist. because he got into baseball for a scholarship he's kinda dropped both art and music, but in getting to know the others and especially Ben he gets back into playing music which leads to him drawing again. he doodles pictures of his friends and they realize what a good artist he is. that's how he realizes he actually has passion for creativity and decides he wants to be a tattoo artist.

(i was writing a tyden tattoo artist Tyler au on a reblog draft from a post @\the-killies made and like forgot abt it. someone peer pressure me if you think that sounds like snth you wanna read. it was probably over 1k words by the time i forgor)

Taylor likes mechanics (cus. the club) but she also knows some programming. this is solely because I think Taylor would like making little robots just for fun. Aiden would beg her to make him a little robot like that one companion toy robot Cosmo

in canvas sbg Logan brought a bunch of clothes for them to wear in the pictures/videos they took. so. Logan likes cosplay and renn faires. History is one of his favorite subjects (the other being science. english/literature is a very close third. he doesn't dislike math just isn't his favorite) so he has a lot of clothes from different time periods because of the renn faires he's been to.

This is a really unhinged headcanon and isn't something ive ever thought about before but thinking about Logan having outfits and stuff made me think who would be the most likely to be a furry. and no not Logan. it would be Aiden. hes rich enough to splurge on his fursuit. THIS IS A JOKE I DONT HC HIM AS A FURRY THIS IS A "WHOS MOST LIKELY TO" PLEAS

Aiden's favorite subject is history, he likes reading about wars but he also enjoys learning about other cultures and differences from how we live in modern day America. Aiden would probably study anthropology just for the fun of it. he and Logan bond over their love of history. Aiden can't remember what he had for lunch yesterday but he can tell you every little detail he knows about the Civil War start to finish, dates and names and locations and all.

this is a really weird hc but. Ashlyn is an amazing rapper. there was a karaoke night and one song someone did had a rap part coming up and they were like ahaha it's too fast for me and Ashlyn just stood up. took the mic. and fucking blew everyone's minds. and then she sat down like she didnt just rock their world

this last bit is self indulgent. assuming the phantom world things don't last forever, the kids get therapy eventually :D

^^ building on that, Ben specifically, he lives in my head rent free. i love him sm. Ben gets therapy for not just the phantom world things but everything beforehand. slowly and surely, starting with Aiden and Lily and maybe whichever person he's shipped with, he starts talking again. Some days are better than others, sometimes he gets quiet again, other times he goes for days talking as much as anyone (except aiden he yaps.) everyone almost cries when Ben is doing something and begins singing to himself because they realize he's better

im gonna do like gender & sexuality headcanons too,,, maybe later. might do silly ship hcs too cus i ship so many pairings here

[just-some-random-blogger]

Ghosts

[Waiting For A Lifetime IV] Part 1 2 3 4 ?

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Aegon Targaryen x Reader + Aemond Targaryen x Reader + others (;

Summary: Ghosts will ride on to haunt you. Ghosts will come from your past, carrying a holy axe. Ghosts will taunt you you. Ghosts will come from your your memories, intent on burning the bridges at last.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, Modern AU, smut (biting, hair pulling, but its honestly its vanilla, crying [they get pretty emotional], vaginal penetration, cream pie, cock warming), surface level knowledge on asoiaf lore, internet translated high valyrian, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: welcome my meowmeows today we die- i i mean dine 😃 i say MDNI but its at the very end so once you reach that part, you can always choose not to read it. please keep in mind that I have little knowledge about any asoiaf lore so if you would like to correct me, have at me Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @pearlstiare @llovinjoonie @sabrina6272827 @ayamenimthiriel @comicsol1999 @fictionalcomforts @mirandastuckinthe80s @mooniesyubi @cookielovesbook-akie @panagiasikelia @mlwriting5 @bibli0thecary @ateliefloresdaprimavera @margaglitterdeath @fan-goddess @bibli0thecary @iamlost @queenofshinigamis @thebullship @slavyanskiyahui

"What are you doing?"

I look out the balcony. A wind blows across my body. My frilly lingerie flows in the wind.

"Come back inside, it's cold."

I lean on the fence. I look down at the view of Dorne as far as the eye could see. I release a breath.

I hear my name get spoken. It was no alias. No made up identity. It was my name. He calls out my name.

"I'm not cold," I mutter, mostly to myself.

A hand comes around my waist. I sigh as I am pulled in against a warm body. He hisses and presses his lips on my head, "you're ice cold, baby."

I shake my head, refusing to lean against him, "the sun hasn't shone yet. What do you expect the whether to be at this time?

He pushes my hair back and leans in to kiss my neck. His stubble scratches my skin. His deep voice utters, "I'll make you tea and breakfast..." both hands come to my stomach as he pulls me closer, "then toast, or waffles, or pancakes, or bac-"

He flinches and tightens his hold on me when there is a loud crash from the street below. He pulls away from me to check what happen. I don't look, instead I go inside.

"Fucking car crash," he calls out as I walk over to his bedroom, the bedroom that I had been staying in for far too long.

When I get there, I begin to pack my things and dress up. I catch my face in the mirror as I put on my pants. I freeze because of it. I trace the scars on my chest, from a dagger, I look at the marks at the curve of my jaw, from a sword, then I look at my hands, calloused centuries of memories. I feel hollow... hollower. I am reminded of my loneliness. I was devoid of purpose.

I look over my shoulder when I hear him call my name again. I hastily put the rest of my clothes on.

My purpose was not with him.

I shove clothes in my bag and zip it close.

He could not give me purpose.

I exit the bedroom before he can enter, and I head for the door. He catches my arm and stops me before I can walk any father. He says my name. I ignore him. He tugs my arm desperately, just how he repeats my name. I look at him, stoic, "I have to go."

His thick brows furrow. His jaw clenches. He shakes his head. He tightens his grip on my arm and steps forward, "I'm going to make you your fav-"

"I can't do this anymore, Bobby," I mutter sharply under my breath.

He freezes. I pull my arm away from him. I clutch my bag and face him fully, "our time is up."

He shakes his head. He places his hands on his hips. He calms his breathing. He speaks lowly, "stay for breakfast."

I press my lips into a soft smile, "you have been nothing but-"

"No."

"-kind, and sweet, and caring-"

"No. Please. No!"

"-and you are reason why I have gotten the closest I have to feeling love like this after such a long time-"

Bobby mutters my name and walks over to me. He clutches my bag and urges me toward him, "and I can show you more. Please, please just-"

I press my fingers on his lips. I shake my head and look at his glassy eyes. I brush back the short dark hairs by his forehead as I continue to disagree, "you deserve better than this."

"No I-"

"You deserve someone who's going to love you back."

"I don't want someone to love me back!" He grabs my shoulders, "I just want you."

I mutter his name but he does not hear it as he talks over me with a million offers, a million solutions, a million things he could and would do, so long as he could keep me.

I release my bag and clutch his shirt. I clench my jaw as tears leave my eyes at the sight of the ones streaming down his face. I release a sigh and lean into him. I silence him by claiming his mouth with my own. It is sad, it is desperate, it is salted with tears.

He pulls me against his chest. He does it with much vigor, intent on trapping me against his chest. He rubs my back and chases my mouth like it was his lifeline. He pushes me back. I let him push me back. He seals me against the wall and his arms, but then he dig his fingers into my waist band.

"Bobby-" I catch his wrists.

"Please," he mutters, kissing me again, "I'm good at his. I'm good at this... can make you feel good. Please."

I push him away before he can undo the button.

He whimpers. His voice cracks, "please- please, I can make you love me."

I shake my head. I ghost my fingertips on his temple, "not in this lifetime," I touch my lips on his cheek for the final time, "goodbye, Bobby."

I snap to my side, reeling out of my thoughts when I hear someone cough. I am back in reality, evidence was the sight of King Viserys' raised brows. I shrug and turn back to the artifact hung on the wall, "Dornish art to me is..." I brush away the memory that flooded my brain as I offered a smile to the man beside me, "heart ache and heat."

Viserys chuckles as he glances at the display, "that doesn't sound very enthusiastic. Are you not a fan of the Dornes?"

I release a breath, "I speak this with nothing but honesty," I raise my hands, "but I am biased to the aesthetics of the Targaryen dynasty."

The king laughs, "spoken like a true poet."

I press my lips into a soft smile, "well, I am a lover of many arts, my king." I motion to the exit of the exhibit, "perhaps, I think, you would enjoy this area of the museum much more, your majesty."

I lead the king (and his bodyguards) to the next section of the place. Immediately, the king reacts to the sight of the massive dragon skull in the middle of the room. He laughs as he nears the thing. I smile at the sight of his excited face.

"Balerion," the king says.

I tail after him as he moves to the inscription for the object, "indeed. The Black Dread, mount of King Aegon the first, King Maegor the first, Princess Aerea, and King Viserys the first."

The king chuckles under his breath as he shakes his head, "skoros iā ossȳngnon ziry would emagon issare."

What a terror he would have been.

I nod my head and look at the skull, "a fearsome and terrorizing beauty indeed."

Viserys turns to me just as I motion to the walls and begin to ramble about the history of it all, particularly nerding out over the massive painting depicting dragons, Targaryen princes, and civil war.

"You need not remind me of the history of my ancestors, pet," he says, walking up beside me, with his hands behind his back, "what I am more interested in is the rest of your tale with the prince."

I turn to Viserys and give him a smile and shrug, "as I said your grace, I have recounted all the memories I've had with your brother, prince Daemon the eighth."

The king makes a face, "huh," he raises a brow and narrows his eyes, "I don't suppose you have memories with prince Daemon the seventh then?"

I chuckle, "no," I shake my head, turning back to the painting, "only with Daemon the first."

The king laughs under his breath and turns to the painting as well.

"Oh yes I do hope you're enjoying yourself, brother."

Before I could react to the words that were spoken, I am pulled back and kissed on the neck. I turn from the painting, one of the many that visualized the Dance of the Dragons, then over my shoulder about the same time Viserys does.

"Daemon-" the king barks, eyes looking out to room, warry of everyone around. He does not continue when he hears the prince pipe up to me, "did he do anything unsavory to you, my love?"

This time, both Viserys and I speak his name, albeit starkly contrasting.

"Daemon," I mutter, as I try to push him away, "please, we are out in public. Some-"

"I don't give a fuck," Daemon cuts me off, ripping me back into him, "answer the question."

"Daemon," Viserys grumbles, stepping close, "unhand her."

"No!" Daemon snaps, shooting a look of daggers to his brother.

I gasp as I press my fingers to his lips. I slowly move away from him. "My love please," I whine, "the king has been nothing but kind to me and all he is asking for you to conduct you-"

"I will not have anyone, even the king, separate me from my bride," he yanks me close to him, arm coming around my shoulders.

My hands clutch his arms.

At that moment, because of how it reflected the light, Viserys spots the silver ring on his brother's bride. His eyes twitches as he rethinks the story of the personal vows. He scoffs, eyes darting back up to Daemon, "you do realize doing this makes her life more difficult."

Daemon turns to his brother, lips curling into a smile, although he was not amused by the thought even a fraction, "well then let me take her to Dragonston-"

"Keep your voice down," Viserys hisses, stepping closer.

Daemon pushes me behind him and moves towards the king, "lo ao sagon olvie gaomagon lēda aōha urnēptre hen kustikāne naejot ñuha ābrazȳrys, ao sȳrje sagon jāre sir."

If you're quite done with your show of strength to my wife, you best be going now.

"Daemon," I call out

Viserys makes a face as he scoffs. He shakes his head, "I'm doing this to protect you, Daemon."

"Well I don't want your protection," he mutters, "I can protect myself. I can protect her," he quips, "what I need is your-"

"My what?" Viserys cuts, "my blind obedience to your wishes?" He lets out another scoff, "perhaps you should have been born first and become king."

Daemon holds his tongue. This is why Viserys will never know that the word his baby brother meant to say was blessing.

Viserys pulls away from Daemon and masks his expression rather quickly when he hears one of the bodyguards tell off some people from trying to enter this part of the exhibit and for attempting to take pictures.

I watch as the lines on Daemon's face tighten. I watch as he presses his lips together in tension where Viserys loosens his jaw and takes a breath.

The king turns around, clapping his hands together, putting on a grin, "well, if I must leave, then I should have my photo be taken with the staff of the museum." He turns to me, "would you be a dear and invite your colleagues over for a photo?"

Daemon turns to me as Viserys points, "I should like one with Balerion."

I smile and nod, "of course, your grace."

When I move off to round up the museum personnel, Daemon grabs my arm and knits his brows. He presses his lips into a pleading frown and makes up for the space between us.

I sigh and shake my head, "calm down," I mutter in High Valyrian. I reach out for his cheek and brush his skin, "nothing will happen with me. I will be back soon."

Viserys knits his brows as he watches Daemon mutter pleas in their mother tongue not to be left alone. He feels a sting in his heart at the desperation of his brother. He is deeply disturbed by everything.

He then thinks about the admission he heard earlier, about when Daemon wandered off drunk and arrived at his 'wife's' home, nothing but actual sleeping happened. He wonders if Daemon will lose interest once they share a bed.

I sigh when Daemon steals a kiss from my lips. I brush his hair back and give him a smile before I walk off to do my business. Daemon refuses to release my hand until the very last moment. He leaves his arm hanging in the air as he watches me walk away.

Viserys watches Daemon watches me.

"Brother," Viserys says, "I am genuinely concerned for you."

Daemon turns to him, all the softness in his expression fading. He pettily ignores the king and turns to the painting on the wall. He crosses his arms and stares blankly.

The elder of the two sighs and beholds the same painting before him. Viserys thinks about the artistry but only for a moment because he beholds the fury of the dragons, the fury of the princes, the fire and the blood. He looks upon the legacy of his house, the strife of his kin, the romanticization of it all. Then he looks upon his brother. He looks at how his violet eyes glistened with the light from the room, and yet the light in his eyes was not there.

And he looked again when their picture was taken, how he smiled softly at the camera as he stood next to whom he was so adamant to be around. Viserys saw the change.

Daemon places his arm over both me and one other employee. I turn to Bertha as she grins and says, "the prince has his arm on our shoulders."

I grin back at her as Daemon smiles at me, "well, I must constantly be surrounded have a beautiful woman in my arm," he turns to Bertha, "now I have two."

Bertha giggles as I shake my head.

I turn to Aemond to my right. He is rigid beside me, and so pull him close and offer a smile. He mumbles under his breath, "I can do something if you're not uncomfortable with having your photo taken."

I give him a quick smile and shake my head, "it'll be fine."

Aemond clenches his jaw. He turns away just before Daemon shoots him a look.

"Alright everyone," the photographer says, "big smile in 3, 2, 1."

The photo ends up on the news, on the TV, on the radio, on the internet, on the magazines, on the newspaper.

King Viserys and Prince Daemon honor Museum of Ice and Fire with a visit in line with upcoming Cultural Arts Celebration

The Blonde Brothers reunite with a visit to Museum of Ice and Fire in honor of incoming Cultural Arts Celebration to be held next week.

Targaryens storm the Museum of Ice and Fire, leaving everyone swooning and saluting

Prince Daemon flirts with local museum curator during a visit to Museum of Ice and Fire

Upon reading seeing the photos attached to one of the many headlines tied to that day, Bobby drops his mug and misses the table, causing it to crash and break and spill all over the floor. He hisses as the hot coffee splashes on his leg and yet he pays no more than a second's thought on it as he leans into his computer and clicks the link on the screen.

He stares at the photograph of the prince with his arm over two women, one of which he knew for she was his ghost, his love, his heartbreak and heat.

He lets out a shaky breath then pushes himself off his desk chair. He grabs his phone and calls a contact, biting his fingernails as he did so.

"Hell-"

"Martell," he says, which is enough of a formality you could ever get out of him at this point, "I need you to pull out some old files and redo some research for me."

Alternatively, Aegon was hammering his head over and over again on his table as he wasted the little time he had on break by obsessing over the articles he saw on the internet.

He wasn't hungry anyway.

No, that was a lie. He was starving, but he already finished his snack after stuffing the fish and chips he had in his mouth far too quickly for anyone's good. He hadn't even realized he finished it, nor that he was eating, really, upon until he looked to his empty plate with shock washing over.

Now he had just made himself miserable and didn't feel any fuller than he was before eating.

He looks at the time and laughs bitterly to himself. This was supposed to be the time his saving grace came, but he knew no one was coming today.

He messages his brother again. Scrolling up from the first message he sent today down to the last.

DUDE WTF THE ROYAL FAMILY IS AT YOUR JOB? BRUH BRUH brush bruh AEMOND THE HELL IS HAPPENING oh is it the king wtf is the king doing there THE BLOND BITHCES ARE THERE aemond are you dead?????????? AEMOND WAHT THE FUCK Link attached WHAT THE FUCK YOU SITTING THERE NEXT TO HER Link attached Link attached Link attached AEMOND YOU IDIOT BITCH ASS CUNT RESPOND TO ME i hope youre miserable i hope you see them make out again can you ask her if shes coming ............ i know she wont but do it anyway fuck you bitch Image Attatched

"Quit flippin' on ya phone and get back to work boy," Aegon's boss calls as he enters the storage room, "breaks over."

Aegon stands and nods, "yeah, boss."

Aemond sorely ignored his phone as it blew up. It was bad enough that his head was plagued with the images of a doting couple sneaking glances and touches of each other, he did the right thing by putting his phone on silent.

He was currently on chapter 15 of the book he found entitled Blood Magic, Soul Ties, & Rebirth. In truth, it was nothing like he expected it to be. It was written more like a diary rather than a document like he had expected. It was all written in the perspective of the author, much like the tomes of the old history of Westeros, but, in his opinion, not at all academic in nature. Upon seeing there were parts that spilled into fantastical accounts Aemond understood why this book was still very much under review in the museum, and not somewhere in the national library. What exactly was it?

The chapters would start with personal ire:

Eman suffered rōvēgrī va se [account] hen [magic] se [ash]. Nyke ilimagho se [loss] hen mirre whom nyke jorrāelagon. Nyke [scorn] nykēla syt se [mercy] [exchanged] syt ñuha [soul], skore nyke ojūdan. Gaoman daor jaelagon naejot glaesagon, yn nyke glaesagon syt zirȳla.

I have suffered greatly on the [account] of [magic] and [ash]. I mourn the [loss] of all whom I love. I [scorn] myself for the [mercy] [exchanged] for my [soul], which I lost. I do not wish to live, but I live for him.

And then would go about to explain the process of a certain spell or incantation, all of which involve the spilling of blood, be it animal or human.

Se [spell] syt ease hen riña sikagon. Issa [recommended] bona gaomā bisy [month] iā [less] gō se sikagon hen aōha riña. Kesā jorrāelagon ānogar hen iā [elk], iā molry hen iā [elk], lanta [hooves] hen iā [elk], ānogar hen iā atroksia, ampa [feathers] hen iā atroksia. Istia perform se [following] [incantation] rȳ se zōbrie bantio.

The [spell] for ease of child birth. It is [recommended] that you do this one [month] or [less] before the birth of your child. You will need blood of an [elk], a horn of an [elk], two [hooves] of an [elk], blood of an owl, ten [feathers] of an owl. You must perform the [following] [incantation] at the dark of night.

Finally ending with ominous warnings that tread the line between a word of caution and a threat.

Sagon [warned] bona se [cost] hen ānogar [magic] ēza zȳha [weight] isse ānogar. Daor [amount] hen āeksion kessa [save] ao hen se [consequences] hen skore ao jaelagon naejot [reap]. Sagon [warned] bona ao daor undo līr iksis gaomagon Se ao daor [exact] līr kessa sagon se [payment] syt aōha actions.

Be [warned] that the [cost] of the blood [magic] has its [weight] in blood. No [amount] of gold will [save] you from the [consequences] of which you wish to [reap.] Be [warned] that you cannot undo that which is done and you cannot [exact] that which will be the [payment] for your actions.

Aemond narrows his brows and cocks his head at a particularly random hark.

Eman issare maghatan arlī naejot ābrar ondoso se dārilaros se oh skorkydoso nyke jaelagon [instead] naejot emagon rhēdan zirȳla rȳ se remȳti hen mēre hen [heavens] iā sesīr rȳ mēre hen [hells]. Oh valzȳrys [would] ao [loathe] nyke syt [reaping] nykēla hen qrimbrōstan irudy ao teptan nyke?

I have been brought back to life by the prince and oh how I wish [instead] to have met him at the gates of one of the [heavens] or even at one of the [hells]. Oh husband [would] you [loathe] me for [reaping] myself of the cursed gift you gave me?

He straightens in his seat when someone comes in and announces he's done for the day and that Aemond should probably get going too. He nods his head in regard and puts the largish book down, debating whether or not anyone would look for it if he took it home with him.

He checks the time on his phone, swiping away his million notifications from his brother, then raises a brow at the email notification he got from his cousin, Alicent.

All the while the king and queen were discussing Daemon over dinner.

Aemma grins, "so you've given him your blessing!"

"Lovie, it's like you've not heard a word I said," Viserys says as he licks the side of his knife, which was covered in sauce.

"Visy, I heard you loud and clear, and I'm glad that you've opened up your heart for this," she smiles as she cuts up her meat.

The king rolls his eyes, "I gave him an ultimatum."

"Exactly," the queen shakes her head and repeats her husband's words, "1 week, 1 month, 3 months, half a year until a years passed. If he still feels the same as he does now, then I shall be attending a wedding at Dragonstone by this time next year and my Rhaenyra can expect cousins most swiftly!"

He sighs and drops his cutlery, "my dear," he licks his lips, "I don't want you to get your hope up over something that could well not last."

Aemma eyes him darkly, "well you ought to not jinx it with you sourness."

"Aemma."

"Viserys," she places her own silverware down, "you told me yourself that you saw how his eyes lit up at the sight of her."

He rolls his jaw and leans back on his chair.

"You and your brother have may act like you're constantly at separate ends of pole, but I know that each time you snarl and snap at each other with fire at the back of your throat, neither of you care any less about the other."

Aemma presses her lips together as Viserys looks at her face. He sighs. He reaches out for her cheek, stroking her fair brows, memorizing the curve of her lips before leaning in to kiss her. He would be lost without his light, his Aemma. He wonders if, truly, that was how Daemon felt about this woman.

Well, Daemon let his actions speak louder than his words that night.

The moment we arrived to my home, after Daemon begrudgingly waited out my shift in one of the royal guard's car, I was immediately swarmed by him, him and his hands, his lips, his voice, his breath. Daemon caught me against him and refused to concede, to yield, or even to loosen he grip.

He barely even let me lock my front door on our way inside. I was glad I managed through his tender and eager, open mouthed attacks.

"Kesā daor henujagon nyke arlī, ābrazȳrys," Daemon mutters as he pulls me into him not even a second after letting me go to close the door. He shoves my hair off to the side and attacks my nape with kisses, leading me backward as he blindly navigated my home in the dark.

I hiss then chastise him with giggles when he runs into my lamp, "Daemon please."

"It's so fucking dark."

I pull away from him and take his hands that were clutching my torso, leading him off to my bedroom.

The moment I open the door, he charges at me with more kisses, this time, the light from the street lamps and the moon made it easier for him to navigate to the bed.

I release a sigh when he pushes me back on the mattress, chest pressed against mine, hands caressing and massaging every part of my body. He breathily repeats his words from earlier in between kisses, "kesā daor henujagon nyke arlī, ābrazȳrys," he begins to rip at my clothing, "iksā ñuhon," he heaves, "mirre ñuhon," he presses his forehead on mine, "ñuhon, ñuhon, ñuhon, ñuhon -"

You will not leave me again, wife. You are mine. All mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine.

I shift on my spot and sit up as I help Daemon undress me before he sequentially helps me undress himself.

I whimper as he pushes me back down and grabs my thighs. I squeak out a moan, catching his face in my hands, as he hovers over me.

I cry his name out when I feel him brush his hardened and pulsing length against me. He hisses as he looks down. His hands leave my thighs, one landing by my side, propping him up, the other coming to my wetness, stroking me there sweetly, "such a pretty girl, my love... so ready for me."

I whine as he amuses himself by fondling with my slick. He touches me as light as a ghost and teases my weeping entrance like a devious little boy, hellbent on making chaos of everything.

"Daemon."

"Shhhh," he leans in and licks my lips, "ivestragī nyke emagon ñuha kirimves." Let me have my fun.

I chase after his mouth but he pulls away too quickly, continuing to make a mess of me.

I bring my fingers to his nape, nails digging into his scalp, firmly tugging at his blonde locks. I plead, "Daemon."

He pacifies me with a kiss but does not cease his teasing ministrations. I moan when I feel his two digits barely sink into me. He laughs against our kiss and has to pull away from me all together, both hands sinking into the cushion by my sides, to calm himself down.

I huff in frustration and impatience at his deep chuckles. I decide to take matters into my own hands, literally, and shift beneath him, grabbing his thick member, easing him into me.

His amusement curdles into a moan at my touch. We both audibly react when he slowly sinks into me. He cusses where I call out his name. He breathes hotly against my neck as I wrap my arms around him and seal my legs around his waist.

He suddenly finds it in him to laugh again. He does so with much excitement.

And though I whimper at the feel of him jolting within me, I cannot help but feel a sense of contentment wave upon me. I rub my cheek against his head and scratch his scalp gently. We stay like this for a long while. I do not mind it, not really, I like him like this. But with every second that passed, it felt like my pulse was banging harder and harder.

I whine "ñuha jorrāelagon, kostilus dīnagon, nyke jorrāelagon ao sir" My love, please move, I need you right now.

Daemon chuckles and kisses my jaw, hands squeezing my thigh firmly as he slowly lifts his head up, "so impatient."

I rock my hips beneath him as I nod, "need you so bad."

Daemon obliges and begins to slowly thrust into me. He kisses my lips and makes a sound that is a laugh mixed with a moan, "I know, baby," he digs his nails into my flesh, "I know," he repeats more solemnly, "I need you too-- need you so badly."

My breath hitches when he picks up his pace. He quickens just a little bit, so subtly, and it grinds at my brain. Each time he moves, he exits wholly and enters fully, he stretches me out so nicely and fills me up so good.

I pant against his shoulder and sink my teeth into his muscle, licking and sucking at the area.

He moans at the feeling. He then shifts me in my spot, pushing me up, allowing himself more leverage from above me, making me cry out when he hits a part in me that touches seemingly every nerve of my body.

I screw my eyes shut and feel my eyes water at the sensation. I throw my head back and rip at his shoulder blades.

He huffs against me and continues in his pace, andante, taking his time to move from tip to hilt, savoring each moment, each stroke, each huff, each sigh, each whimper.

He continues like this. He is steady like this. He is beautiful like this.

My fingers and toes curl at the feel of him. My belly flutters. My breath strains. My mind fogs. All because of him, because of how I take in his scent, how I taste his skin, how I wrap around him.

"Dārilaros," I mutter against his ear, "ao ȳdra daor gīmigon skorkydoso olvie nyke bōsa naejot gaomagon ao hae bisa."

My prince, you don't know how much I long to keep you like this.

Daemon thrusts particularly deeply.

Tears pool at the corner of my eyes. Air catches in my throat. I choke on a sob as emotion floods through me. I am hit with this epiphany so very suddenly. I was, next moment, cathartic over the fact he was real, he was here, and he was mine. After all these years, after the dredging, after the lamenting, after the hurting, here he was, a sky above me, a sanctuary around me, a hearth inside me.

He loves on my face, peppering my skin with with kisses, "pār gaomagon nyke va ao," he presses his hands on my waist, knocking into me with forte, "umbagon lēda nyke," he moans against my lips, "sagon ñuha lenton,"

Then keep me on you, stay with me, be my home.

When my hands dart to his cheeks. Only then do I realize that he, too, was teary eyed as my thumbs find the dampness on his face. I open my eyes to look at him but shut close again when his mouth finds mine.

Daemon eases into his accelerando, gently and caringly thrusting faster and faster, staying deeper and deeper until he barely pulls out and he's just trapped into me.

He nips at my lip as I my hands dart to his hips, ripping at the skin there. He continues in his tight movements until he ultimately hooks his hands at the back of my knees and pushes my legs up, breaking into me vigorously until I couldn't think and I could only feel and scream out his name.

And as I climbed up to my high, I called out to him. And as he eased up into his, he called out to me.

And then it all comes crashing down. And then I can't breathe or move, I just tighten and whine and break against him.

And then I feel him follow suit. And then he looses his mind and his tempo, he just pounds and melts and falls into me.

And I feel my whole body burn, I feel my nerves rip into a symphony of pleasure. I feel his heat spill into me. I fill him fill me up until he's completely spent and even after that. I feel my body flinch around him. I feel him bottom out and run over in me. And I missed it. I missed this so much. I missed him so much. I missed him.

His erratic movements lull into slow tender one again, yet he doesn't cease his rocking until I'm shaking and wailing and dripping all over. I feel myself overflow with him, in both literal and metaphorical. I feel my whole body burn while he heaves atop me as he delicately touches down. He rests his entire weight on me; he's an invited and longed for blanket, a heaviness that I have dreamt of having pressed against me for so long.

I feel his heart hammering in his ribcage as mine beneath him did the same. His strangled breath echoes mine. My name spills out of his lips like a prayer. He nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck. His hands rub my legs that were wrapped around him. He was fastens them around his hips, as if my limbs were not tight enough, as if it was possible for him to move closer into me than he already was.

I cradle his head in my hands and adjust my face beside his.

"Avy jorrāelan," I speak softly against his ear, "eman jorrāelatan jeme ñuha ābrar se kessa jorrāelagon ao sesīr tolī."

I love you. I have loved you all my life and will love you even after.

Daemon responds with a kiss, with a rub of his nose, then with his words, "ñuha gevie lenton," he lifts his head up, sighing as he reached out to my cheek, "ñuha vok dārilaros."

Im that moment, I see a vague outline of his face even with through the darkness of my bedroom, but more than that, I hear the affection in his words. The sincerity locked in his voice, "syt ao ossēninna tolvie zaldrīzes, geron tolvie rizmun, iderēbagon tolvie rūklon, se jiōragon se olvie jelevre isse ñuha irosh sepār naejot sagon able naejot ūndegon aōha laehurlion."

My breath hitches, "Dae-"

"Avy jorrāelan."

My beautiful home, my perfect princess, for you I will kill every dragon, walk every desert, pick every flower, and offer the very breath in my throat just to be able to see your face. I love you.

I feel tears rush down my face when I lean up and kiss him.

[postwarlevi]

Happy Halloween IV

Content: Back at it with over 2100 words of dad Levi worrying about his daughters first party.

Previous parts: Part I /////// Part II /////// Part III

"It's almost time to go, are you ready?" You call out from the living room to your eleven year old daughter.

It's Halloween and you did trick or treating a little early this year. Bags of candy, mostly separated and ready to be eaten. There's a small pile staying in your house for you all to snack on and another bowl for late trick or treaters. The rest is being brought as offering for her first Halloween party.

"Yes mama, I'm coming!" You hear her racing about.

"She's already in costume, what could be taking so long?" Levi, your husband, comes to stand beside you.

He won't admit but maybe he's a little anxious about this event. It's being hosted by a family friend and their son, one of your daughters best friends. Of course she will be safe. But this is the first time you aren't going to be there to help out.

"Don't rush her, sweetheart, she's nervous too." You hold Levi's hand, giving him a loving smile. He leans into you and calms down instantly.

There's a knock on the door and you call out to her again, letting her know her ride is here.

"Ready!" She comes running out, bags in hand, costume still looking great. She's picked a superhero this year.

"Hey guys." Levi let's Miche and his son in. They are driving her to the party and later you and Levi will pick them up and drop him off on your way home.

"You look great!" You tell her again, then turn to Miche and his son, who is also in a superhero costume. It appears the group of friends had this planned.

The men go over plans for dropping off and picking up while the kids talk. A large black cat comes out from the kitchen to greet everyone. Just a couple years ago he was such a tiny little thing. He's still active so you don't know how he got so big. Probably all the treats your daughter sneaks him.

She hands the bags to the boy and picks the cat up, who purrs as he gets pets from everyone.

"Okay, pumpkin, everything all set? Ready to go to Erwin's?" Levi turns to her, patting her head.

She smiles and ducks, looking a little embarrassed at the treatment her father gives her.

"Yes daddy, I'm ready." She's growing up and it's hard for everyone involved.

"Okay my little avenger, be good and we'll see you in a few hours." You take the cat from her and send him on his way.

"I'm not an avenger." She points out, maybe in a slightly sarcastic way.

"Oh, right, sorry." You let it go. You remember being eleven. And twelve. Oh no, and then thirteen. There's a long way to go with her.

"Let's go kids! You can sit up front." Miche tells your daughter before anything else can be added, picking up the bags of candy and handing them to his son to carry. The polite thing to do for the little lady.

Levi waits for her to hug him and she gives him a quick side hug, smiling and waving to you.

"Love you." You say, and she says it back while running out the door.

It doesn't bother you nearly as much as Levi that she doesn't hug you as much anymore. In front of her friends it just isn't the cool thing to do. You know she loves you both.

"Well Mr Ackerman, it's just you and me now. And kitty, of course." Kitty has come back out demanding second dinner. Hmm, maybe that's part of his size issue.

Giving in you head to the kitchen, pulling Levi along, who is sulking a bit.

"Don't worry, darling." You kiss his cheek and give him a hug. It makes him feel better.

"Her first party." You giggle as you can hear the frowning he's doing as he says this.

You pull apart as kitty cries for food and you bend to fill his bowl.

"First of many. We should get used to this." It would be easier to just accept it.

"I know. But I still don't like it." Levi sighs and decides it would help him to help you.

He cleans up dinner dishes from earlier that got left in favor of going out, something that would usually never happen.

Together you get things tidy and while humming you come to hug Levi from behind, making him chuckle.

"Stop worrying." You tell him, rubbing his back.

He turns to you and smiles softly, pulling you into a proper hug. "I didn't even say anything."

"Yes, but I know you." You kiss his cheek and put your arms around him. "It's been half an hour. She's with people we know and love. Having a wonderful time."

All true. But anything new his little girl does it going to be new for him too.

The doorbell rings then and you go to hand out candy to the older kids. A few more come right after before you can get settled.

"Come on, do you want to watch a movie, read a book, anything, what would you like?" You find Levi standing right behind you in the living room.

"Anything?" He raises an eyebrow, laughing when you roll your eyes and give him a shove.

"Cut that out." You give him a light kiss, going to switch out your day clothes for a comfy shirt and sweatpants and slippers. Levi gives out a bit more candy then takes your lead and gets into something comfortable, meeting you on the couch with more candy.

It's something he can still go out in later to pick the kids up. He just has to get to the car.

He throws a blanket on you both while you pick out an old movie to play in the background.

"When was your first Halloween party?" Levi asks you, snuggling close and picking out some Twizzlers.

"Oh, I think I was fourteen maybe?" You think about it, digging through the candy. You feel Levi shift and look up at him. "But I wasn't nearly as social as our girl at her age." You try not to make him overthink it.

"So you think this is too early?" He asks with concern.

"No, not at all." You put the candy bowl aside. "We all agreed this was a good idea, and it is." All the kids in your friend group are attending, plus some others from school. Erwin and his wife have it all planned, and you trust them.

"My first party was the one I went to with you the first year we were married." Levi tells you, holding you closer. He'd missed out on some things in his younger years that he enjoys doing now with you. Maybe that's partially why he is worried. He doesn't remember a whole lot about eleven.

"And that was fun, wasn't it?" You remember trying to get him to dress up. It's still not something he does a whole lot. But he admits it was fun. Everything with you makes him happy though.

You go back to candy and the movie and chat while watching the time.

"You don't need to go yet, it won't take you that long to get there." You grin when he is trying to leave half an hour early.

Knowing you're right, Levi settles back down and pulls you into his lap, sighing happily when you rest against him. You still make him feel blissful and he adores that this feeling has never and will never fade.

"We can host a party next year." You suggest, breaking the comfortable silence. Levi nearly chokes on the candy he's snacking on.

"No we can not." He tells you, making you laugh. Sure, then he could keep an eye on your daughter, but that would mean watching around fifteen or so preteens. No thank you. One is enough.

"We could go to our own party. For old times sake." You say, hopeful, looking back at him.

"Maybe." He somewhat agrees. It wasn't out of the question. While being at home like this is his favorite thing, sometimes social events were okay.

"We could even do a couples costume." You grin, kissing his chin when his eyebrows furrow. You know you're pushing it.

Soon it's time to go pick the kids up and you tell Levi you're staying home. He makes sure you're all tucked in and locks the front door behind him.

The usual eight minute drive takes a little longer with kids still out trick or treating.

There's a few other cars already in Erwin's driveway as parents pick up their children.

Levi gets out and heads into the house. Spooky music is still playing on low and he takes in all the decorations. They did a good job.

"Levi." Erwin, one of his oldest friends, comes to greet him.

"Hey." They talk for a couple minutes while one child and their parent thank Erwin on their way out.

"Where's the other kids?" Levi can't help himself, he hasn't seen anyone, or rather, his.

Erwin understands and chuckles. "Out back playing with the dogs. I'll get them."

A few moments later your daughter comes in smiling. She bounces up to Levi.

"Hi dad!" She's a bit loud. Maybe the music, maybe the candy.

He resists the urge to hug her. But he doesn't have to, she hugs him. He smiles.

"You guys ready to go?" He asks, looking around for Miche's son.

"The guys are going to have a sleep over. It's all arranged." Erwin says, coming back in from outside.

"Alright then, just you and me." Levi looks at his daughter and she nods.

Everyone says their thanks and goodbyes and on the way out to the car they pause as Erwin's son comes from the house holding a bag.

Levi takes note of his costume, that matches your daughters very closely, and the way they speak to each other.

Oh no, another thing to worry about. It's always been the joke, that your daughter would marry Erwin's son, and that Miche's son would marry Hange's daughter.

Getting into the car Levi drives slow while your daughter plays with the bag.

"You all plan your costumes?" Levi side eyes her.

"Yeah, we all did. I had a lot of fun." She announces, not staying on the subject.

Levi decides not to, either. "Good. Your mother was worried."

Your little girl laughs because she knows who was the most worried. Levi smiles and they talk about the party.

"So what's in the bag?" He asks as they pull in the driveway.

"Oh, stuff for you and mom. Some of us traded candy. I got your favorites, and a few of mine." She opens the bag which holds a lot of Levi's favorites.

"Thanks." He goes to pat her head but stops, making her shift.

"Daddy, I'm sorry about before. I love your hugs." She realizes that even though she's growing up, watching the boys hug their fathers openly tonight, she still needed her own fathers hugs too.

"Thank you, cupcake. I love them too." His heart full, they share one before getting out of the car.

Feeling much better, Levi promises himself not to worry so much anymore.

Once inside kitty comes right over and gets carried into your daughters room as she goes to change.

You come shuffling out of the bedroom and come to hug Levi.

"How are things?" You ask, happy with everything he tells you. The candy, the hugs, even the matching costumes. You are more open to the idea of the kids getting together one day then Levi.

"Good, I was a little worried. Just a little." You admit to Levi's satisfaction.

"Hi mama." Your daughter comes from her room in her pajamas and you all share a hug and go brush your teeth.

It's a school night so no staying up too late, but everyone is tired from the days events anyway.

"I'm glad you had a good time." You say as you get your daughter in bed, cat at her feet.

"Thank you, me too." She smiles, giving both you and then Levi one of the best hugs you can remember. "Good night."

You go to your own room and get settled into bed, snuggling up to Levi, who teases you gently for also being worried.

Smiling you roll your eyes affectionately and kiss him lightly. "We're her parents, it's only natural."

"We got a long way to go, love." Levi says, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

"Yes, but we'll do it together." You say with a yawn and a sparkle in your eye.

You both got through your teen years, and with as wonderful as your daughter is, you can look forward for what's to come.

--------

a/n I'm baaaaackkk maybe? It's a start! It's been a while so I hope this is okay :)

[ramblingoak]

Idk of you do x reader requests but if you get the chance maybe do a copia helping reader calm down from a overwhelming/over stimulated/anxiety attack, type of breakdown? Thanks. :)

Hello my friend, here's a little something for you. I hope this helps and I hope you are doing well 💙💙

I Love You, I Like You

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader ~ Copia is there to help you when you need him the most

Warnings: mentions of anxiety/panic attacks and the aftermath, gender neutral reader, sfw, 700 words, not proofread forgive me

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Copia understands what you're going through.

He knows what it’s like. The odd sensation like something is crawling under your skin, like something is gnawing away inside of you. He hates it just as much as you do. Hates not feeling in control. Hates that sometimes there’s nothing he can do about it but wait for it to pass.

Mostly he hates that you experience it too.

Copia watches out for the signs. For the days you are quiet and slow to get out of bed. Days where you are withdrawn and keep to yourself. Even his best horrible jokes don’t work on those days. His “Papa Jokes” as you like to call them. They are typically very stupid and usually very dirty, but they always get a laugh out of you. After you groan and roll your eyes of course.

On bad days though Copia doesn’t bother with his jokes, sometimes he doesn’t even bother speaking much at all. He’s been with you long enough to know exactly what you need when the panic and the anxiety becomes too much. When all you can do is sit in either your room or his with the lights off and a blanket wrapped around you.

He makes sure you know he’s there, that he’s ready to give you anything you need. Copia would sweep you off to a cabin in the middle of the woods if you asked him to. But most of the time all you ask of him is just for him to be nearby. His presence, the sound of his breathing, the smell of his cologne…just him being there helps you get through your attacks.

Your love for each other is strong, strong enough to handle days like this. No matter how often they happen. No matter how hard they get. Copia shuts out everything else when you need him. His ghouls helping to run interference from the outside world if necessary.

When the moment comes that you need his touch or his voice he’s there. He waits for you to whisper his name, hating how shaky and unsure you can sound. Like you’re worried he will have left. His arms are gentle as they pull you in, his voice soft as he whispers how much he loves you. Softer still when he eventually starts singing whatever song comes to mind.

Your body will go limp in his arms, exhausted from being on edge for so long. Your mind finally drifting away from the thoughts that had been racing around in your head. Thoughts that weren’t true, that you knew weren’t true but that you still couldn’t get to stop.

Those thoughts were replaced with Copia’s words now. With tales of what the ghouls had been up to, complaints about his brothers and all the ideas he had for his next album. He sings you a few bars of what he came up with, then a few of his older ones he knows you love.

It isn’t until he starts singing “Rats” that you feel like yourself again. By the end of it both of you are smiling so wide your cheeks ache. It’s here where he’ll pull you closer, where he likes to kiss you and remind you how much he loves you. How he’ll always be here for you whenever you need him.

The final step to getting you back on your feet is easy. You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for it. Copia has to take a moment to think of the best dirty joke he can and the best way to deliver it. He knows you’ll groan and try to shove him away. He knows you’ll whine and roll your eyes at how immature he is. But he also knows what you really mean when you do these things.

He knows that when you growl and call him a dirty old man you’re really saying something else…

“Thank you for being here, thank you for loving me.”

Copia’s response is always the same, it’s always whispered into your ear and it never fails to make you feel whole again…

“I love you, I like you. I will be here for you. Always.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

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[cherriegyuu]

Hiii. So i got into a car accident today while driving, nothing too bad happened to my car and the car that hit mine. Im also not badly jnjured but mentally, just got so traumatized from the impact. I can still hear the loud boom upon impact and like now im home about to sleep and while ive had many thoughts, one of them was just hoping there was someone who would care for me. Someone who’d come to my rescue as it happened and process the trauma with me. I could really see this with Seungcheol. Could you possibly write a drabble about this if its not too much ask?

Thank you

like we talked before, i hope you're doing well and that the worse is gone. i hope you enjoy! sorry it took me so long

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader genre: angst  word count: 1.1k warning: car accident, reader gets hurt (minor)

a/n: this was not proofread

requests are open

You dropped the keys on the table, your bag and coat right on top of it. You glanced at your hands, just to have the confirmation that they were still shaking, though a visual confirmation wasn't really necessary, as you could feel it. The sight of it was just an added bonus. 

No more than 5 hours before you were in a car accident. While on your way to work, you stopped at a red sign — as one usually does — when someone hit you from behind, causing your car to hit the one in front of you. 

You were stuck in the car for at least 45 minutes until they managed to get you out. Your leg was stuck, it wasn't broken or hurt, but you were confident that if you tried to move it then you'd injure it. 

During those 45 minutes, all you wanted was to call Seungcheol and have his voice calm you down even just for a second. But your phone was inside your purse, in the backseat, so there was no way of reaching it. So you stayed stuck, silently crying.

The paramedics did their best to calm you down, talking with you the entire time, assuring you that everything was going to be okay. 

"Can I call my boyfriend?" you asked once they pulled you out.

The medic smiled at you and handed you your purse. You knew that Seungcheol was at a meeting, like his earlier text informed you, outside of town, so there was a possibility of him not answering the phone. But you had to try it. You: needed to hear his voice even if it was just the voicemail. 

He picked up the phone on the fourth ring.

"Baby, what happened? Is everything okay?" He said as soon as he picked up the call.

Seungcheol knew that you wouldn't call him over nothing, just to chat, while he was in a meeting, a very important one at that. That was an agreement the two of you made early on in your relationship: phone calls were mostly for emergencies during work hours. 

"I was in an accident," you said, trying to control your voice so as not to scare him "Someone hit me from behind so I hit the car in front of me"

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of a door closing.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

You couldn't hold back your tears anymore, not to the sound of his voice growing worried by the second. And you didn't want to do that, didn't want him to be worried about things he couldn't do anything about. He was hours away from home, working. You knew what the sound of your crying would do to him, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to stop. 

"I'm okay, just scared. The sound of the car hitting me was so loud, then someone screamed and an alarm went off somewhere around me. I just…" you pressed a hand to your temple, suddenly aware of the thin layer of blood running down your cheek "Oh, shit"

"yn?" Seungcheol's voice was desperate on the other side of the line "What is it? What happened"

"Miss? We have to go now" he heard someone say

"They're taking me to the hospital," you said, starting to cry again "Just to make sure everything is fine, I think"

"Everything is fine, you're okay," he said, his tone suddenly changing, a little more bright "I'll be home soon, okay? I'll figure something out, but I'll be there as soon as I can. I love you"

Seungcheol felt yet another squeeze in his heart. He should have been home, closer to you. Should have been able to get back sooner than a few hours. The world seemed to be moving slower than usual, the traffic not moving at all. He just wanted to get home, to you. He needed to see, with his own eyes, that you were, in fact, fine. 

It didn't matter to him that you told him you were okay, multiple times, that while at the hospital you kept updating him and reassuring him. Seungcheol knew that sometimes you'd downplay how you felt to not burden others. 

He could tell just from your voice that you were still shaken up, as your words came out almost whispered. 

Seungcheol pushed open the door to the apartment you shared. His eyes scanned the living room, then the kitchen. Only to find you standing over the stove, mindlessly stirring something in a pan.

"yn? baby?”

You had been so lost in your mind, in the memories of the accident, that you didn’t hear him coming in, or the sound of the door. But his voice was enough to bring you back. 

“Cheollie,” you said.

The moment you saw him, you broke down. The entire day, after that first call with him, you had managed to keep it together. Crying once had been enough, as it usually was. But not this time around. You had never been in an accident before, not even close, and the moment kept being replayed in your mind as if you were stuck in this infinite loop of that moment. You remember the sound more than anything else, so loud that made you think that the accident had been far worse than it actually was. 

Seuncgehol held your face, his thumbs pushing away your tears, as he searched your face for any injuries. Only to find the small band-aid over your right eyebrow. It was the light blue one you always kept in the bathroom. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

His voice was so soft, his touch so gentle.

“Can you just hug me? That’s all I really need right now”

Seungcheol wasted no time in pulling you to him, one of his hands on your waist and the other one at the back of your neck. He planted small kisses on your temple, over the band-aid, on your cheek, on your hair. He wasn’t sure what he could do for you. The worst seemed to have passed, but he knew that you’d still be thinking about it for days.

“Thank you for picking up my call,” you said against his chest “and for coming home. I didn’t want to be by myself today. Sorry I interrupted your meeting though, I know it was important”

He pulled back a little. He had the sweetest smile on his face, his dimples showing as he caressed your head before pressing his lips against yours.

“This is the only place in the world I wanna be at”

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[igriswholove]

I think about Johnny.

Below there may be partial descriptions of violence, unpleasant moments in life, and mentions of hospitals.

About MacTavish, who in an extra quiet moment decides to find his notebook - to draw something or someone. But his hand trembles - a wound that has touched something important leaves a tremor in his fingers, and he has to really try. The drawing comes out careless - the lines do not go as usual, they slide off, they go in a small wave. He's angry. But he simply don’t have the strength to do it. He can learn again. He learns quickly.

About Soap, who hates hospitals. The feeling of an IV or catheter in his hand creates an itching under his skin, a desire to wriggle out, to rip the meat out. But he endures. That's why he's often grouchy and sarcastic. The hospital food does not disgust him - it is not particularly different from the food in their canteen... but the air, saturated with a special, hospital smell, makes him lose his appetite - it turns him inside out. That's what operating rooms smelled like - a pungent smell of cleanliness and something he couldn't quite put his finger on. This is what the intensive care unit smelled like. This is how the beds in the wards smelled. This is what the medicine smelled like. Their Infirmary at the base is closer to him - in spirit, in smell, in furnishings, even though there are not as many conditions there as in the next hospital, where he ended up by the will of fate, or rather, because a shell on a mission that almost turned his side out. But he doesn’t like to be there either. Lesser of two evils.

Johnny, who, when the instructions are too vague, too ragged, when the feeling of Total wrongness in everything is breathing hot breath into the back of his neck, goes to figure it out and demand at least some answers. Price only wearily and patiently, with restraint that even Goust would envy, only reports what he has already reported and expresses understanding. Johnny, who then leaves, almost slamming the door - sometimes like a child, well, honestly.

Johnny, who after this is all on edge, rolls towards the hall in, looks like bundle of nerves, just to relieve the aching muscles - anxiety, squeezing and crushing his body in spasm.

I think about the name McTavish coming out of Ghost's mouth in that thick British accent when he's challenged to spar.

Johnny, who smiles while his body burns with bruises, the sites of particularly successful blows from Ghost - scream, demand rest. But the fight is on, and Johnny is almost having fun. Both are letting off steam, mostly playing by the rules that never work in real combat, rather than trying to cause harm.

Afterwards, Johnny listens with displeasure to the nurse, and then to Price, that this is NOT the best thing he could do - he must be ready for the mission and be as fresh as a cucumber. Considering the recent incidents, the amount of medicines consumed and other things in just half a year, he is rather a pickled. Perhaps he should take a vacation?...

Johnny, who jerks his leg when he’s nervous, creating a rhythmic, barely audible sound - a heavy gloved hand falls sharply on his knee, squeezing, reminding him, firstly, of the bruise, and secondly, that it’s time for him to calm down, otherwise the mission will go to hell. A panicking soldier is a dead soldier.

Johnny, who loves breakfast cereals and, despite the teasing from the know-it-all Gaz, who reminds that this is almost one hundred percent sugar, easily devours a pack, eating away the stress.

McTavish, who sits at the table late at night, poring over textbooks and new information on the creation of explosive devices and their operation, thoughtfully drawing out convenient combinations for occasions, and simply as a training session.

Johnny, who loves puddings and fights with an unknown person who steals them from the refrigerator. Literally or not, he hasn’t decided yet, but he won’t forgive this “someone” for strawberry pudding. (This is Goust, by the way)

Johnny, who gets mad when his hair grows too long and falls in his face. Several times, when on a mission he did not have time to cut his hair, he managed to grow his hair to shoulder length, upon returning he decided to only shave the sides, tying his hair in a ponytail - fortunately, the length allowed.

Johnny, who has a toothache and waits as long as he can before he is pushed into the dentist's office, from where he emerges gloomy and angry, and the terrified doctor only silently asks for payment. No, he takes care of his health - a soldier, after all, but still. They have mutual hostility with the doctors.

Johnny, who has a 'subtitled face'. Sometimes subtitles lie.

[ricegobbler]

please do NSFW hc for tfp starscream!! thank u<3

TFP STARSCREAM NSFW HCS!!

OMG IM SO SORRY. IVE BEEN BUSY AND I SHOULDVE DONE THIS SOONER☹️

BUT TYSM FOR REQUESTING ILYYY<33

But YES! I absolutely love this gremlin, so here you goooo!!! Ty for requesting!!<33

ALSO ADDING AFTERCARE!!<333

(sorry again for doing this request just now☹️)

Warnings‼️: EVERYTHING IS 18+ BASICALLY.

———————————————

-Right off the bat. Hes a switch, 100%.

-so take these hcs for when he’s a top and a bottom!!

TOP HCS!!:

-whenever he’s top he would like probably grunt and like pant ykyk

-he’d like being called things like “master” or “my lord”

-as a top I feel like his favorite positions would be like against the wall, butterfly, spooning, and mating press. (Idk a lot of positions😢)

-he’d be pretty rough ngl, but he’ll also be gentle. He’s not like Megatron.😒

-he’d definitely prefer receiving oral as a top bc he loves seeing you below him, or kneeling for him. He wants to be your master</3

You, kneeling on your knees for the second in command and licking the tip of his spike.

“Mmmm…..enjoying yourself?….” Starscream asked. “Being a good con for your master, hm?…”

-😘

-when he overloads in you he won’t pull out unless he knows his sparkling are in you. He wants you to be the carrier of them😍 he’ll probably just move his hips to go deeper in you as he overloads his transfluids in.

-when?? Probably after everytime he gets his ass kicked by Megatron, or when he’s just mad. He wants to get rid of stress, and just by seeing and hearing you get fucked helps relieve it.

-where?? In his berth. That’s probably it. Unless he’s like really desperate then you’ll just get dragged somewhere like a closet (idk) then he’ll fuck your brains out☺️

-aftercare?? Cuddles!!! But you’re praising him.😢(you’re the small spoon tho😍)

BOTTOM HCS!!:

-WHIMPERER. HE WHIMPERS AS A BOTTOM, IM 100% RIGHT. IF U DISAGREE U SUCK!! (jk ilysm<3)

-he’d like being called things like “my love.” That’s kinda all I can think of ngl

-as a bottom I feel like he’d like being ridden. Like you on top and just slamming your ass into his hips, making him whimper like CRAZY😨

-honestly I feel like he’d be rough as a bottom too, but he just whimpers instead of grunts, he’s mostly overstimulated

-HE DEFINITELY GIVES ORAL AS A BOTTOM. HES A WHIMPERING MESS AS HE GIVES YOU HEAD. EATING YOUR VALVE?? WHIMPERING. SUCKING YOUR SPIKE?? WHIMPERING. LIKE OMFGGGGGG😍

Starscream on his knees, eating/sucking your valve/spike.

“M-mmm..” he muffled, whimpering and quickly pulling back with transfluids around his mouth

-femboy.

-when he overloads he is the biggest moaning mess ever. He’d definitely twitch and stay inside you and just pull out once he calms down.

-he wants to be edged. period.

-when?? Whenever he’s either in the mood, or when you’re in the mood.

-where?? His berthroom, he doesn’t wanna be seen as a weakling infront of others cuz yk he’s a bottom.

-aftercare?? Cuddling as well, you’re like the big spoon tho. And you still have to be the one to praise him🤷🏻‍♀️

———————————————

ok ngl this was rushed😢

Requests r still open tho!!!

ILY ALL SM!!