#love at first sight ? no we do suffering at first sight here

[lunaa-runee]

Stolen Moments

CW: oral (f receive), creampie, porn with a little plot, afab reader, mentions of murder, Gojo in love, secret romance, kinda getting caught

wc: 1.7k

Minors DNI.

“Hey there, love,” Satoru Gojo’s smooth voice greeted you as he crouched outside your second-floor window. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the lanky, white-haired man with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

To set aside the book you were reading, you asked him. He quickly pulled you into his embrace, his hands resting on your hips as he pressed his lips against the shell of your ear. The familiar scent of his cologne filled your senses as he whispered, “Did my girl miss me?”

Satoru Gojo was a man of many facets. He was destined to lead the powerful Gojo clan, held the title of the strongest sorcerer in modern times, and was the man you loved with all your heart. However, fate had different plans for both of you, placing you in families on the verge of war.

Your forbidden romance had begun three years earlier when your eyes first met at a sister school event. It was love at first sight for both of you, and since then, your passion for each other has only grown stronger. You couldn’t imagine life without him as you looked into those captivating blue eyes.

Initially, you were hesitant about Satoru’s advances. The thought of a relationship with a Gojo, especially the future clan head, felt daunting and fraught with potential challenges. You worried about the potentially deadly consequences. Yet, Satoru’s unwavering determination shone through. He genuinely believed that you were worth any risk.

And eventually, you gave in.

“Satoru, what are you doing here? You promised me you wouldn’t come here anymore,” you whispered as Satoru’s lips trailed delicate kisses along your neck.

His lips grazed your neck, sending a shiver through you. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

You tried to push him away, knowing all too well the consequences of succumbing to your desires. “You’re going to leave a mark,” you moaned.

“Good,” Satoru growled, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Satoru,” you warned. “You know we can’t.”

But he ignored your protests, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he held you tightly. “Let me put an end to this them,” he pleaded. “I’m tired of hiding. Let me take out those old bastards so we can be together.”

“Satoru,” you whispered, feeling torn. “We can’t just-”

“Why not?” He stepped back, frustration etched onto his features as he gazed intently at you. “Why do we have to suffer because of some bullshit that happened hundreds of years ago?”

You sneered, lowering your voice as you spoke. “Are you trying to let everyone know you’re here?”

“I don’t care at this point,” he huffed, his shoulders slumping as he averted his gaze. “I’m tired of sneaking around to see you,” he confessed. “We deserve to be happy, to be together. I’m sick of these old bastards dictating our lives and trying to make us hate each other because of something that has nothing to do with us.”

Guilt washed over you, knowing deep down that he was right. But could you really ask the man you loved to commit murder? Satoru was feared and revered in Jujutsu Society for his immense power, but to use it for your benefit?

“I love you, Satoru. With all my heart,” you declared, nervously rubbing your arm. “But I can’t ask you to do something like that.”

He met your gaze, searching your eyes with intensity. Stepping closer, he cupped your face gently in his hands and whispered without breaking eye contact, “You don’t have to ask.”

And with that, Satoru pressed his lips fervently against yours, igniting a flame of desire between you. In a frenzy, your hands roamed wildly over each other’s bodies, and every touch set your skin ablaze.

Satoru guided you backward until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed. With a gentle push, he lowered you onto the plush mattress beneath you.

His crystal-clear eyes glimmered with desire as he took in your disheveled and naked form. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, gazing at you possessively. “And you’re all mine.”

He drops to his knees, gently guiding your legs apart and resting them over his broad shoulders. Your body trembles in anticipation as he brushes his calloused fingers against your sensitive folds, eliciting a soft whimper from your lips. “Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he growls.

Leaning forward, his skilled tongue teases and explores every inch of your heat, building intense pressure in your abdomen. Your hands instinctively grip Satoru’s hair, urging him on with desperate moans. He watches you with dark eyes filled with desire and hunger.

He inserts two fingers in your core, and he begins to pump them at a steady pace. At the same time, his mouth attaches itself to your now swollen clit, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. “Fuck,” you moan out breathlessly. Satoru shows no mercy as he works harder and faster, pushing you closer to the edge. His fingers expertly curl and twist inside of you while his tongue flicks and swirls against your most sensitive bud.

Your entire body tenses as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax. The sensations are almost overwhelming, and your moans become louder. “Shit, Satoru.”

He removes his lips from your throbbing heat, revealing a mischievous smile. “You better not be too loud. We wouldn’t want one of your father’s men to hear us now, would we?”

Despite his warning, it becomes increasingly difficult for you to contain your sounds of pleasure. And Satoru’s relentless pace only adds fuel to the fire. As you’re about to lose all control, he suddenly retracts his fingers. “No,” you whimper. “Please, I was so close.”

“I can’t let you finish yet,” he says, climbing on top of you and pinning your arms above your head with one hand. “But don’t worry, you’ll cum before I’m done with you.”

You’re not sure when it happened, but at some point, Satoru has entirely stripped down. You feel his tip teasing against your slick folds as he uses his hands to glide it up and down, enjoying the power he holds over you. But you were desperate at this point. “Stop teasing,” you whine.

“Oh? What does my girl want?” he teases.

You want nothing more than to wipe that cocky grin off his face. “Please don’t make me beg,” you plead.

“Come on baby, I wanna hear you say it,” Satoru taunts, pulling away from your eager body.

You bite your lip in frustration as he takes the pressure of his girth away from your heat. Honestly, you’re not sure what’s worse: the loss of stimulation or his teasing touch. You try to bring your knees together, seeking some sort of friction, but Satoru doesn’t allow it. “Satoru,” you beg breathlessly. “Please…”

His eyebrow raises in fake curiosity as he continues to torture you with his words and actions. He brings a hand up to your chest, then gently glides it towards your core. “What is it? What does my baby want?”

Your mind is consumed with desire and need for this man who is determined to drive you to madness. With closed eyes, struggling to maintain control, you whisper desperately, “I want you.”

A smug smile spreads across Satoru’s lips as he hears your confession.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he remarks playfully. “Maybe you should say it a little louder…”

“Satoru,” your voice exploded with desire. “I need you. I need to feel you inside me.”

A sly grin spread across Satoru’s face, pleased with your desperate plea. He wasted no time in realigning himself and filling you with his cock.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as your walls eagerly welcomed him, stretching to accommodate his size. The sensation warmed your body, making every nerve tingle with pleasure. Your mind went blank as he began to move, each thrust igniting a fire within you that grew more intense with each passing moment.

Satoru lowered himself to meet your lips in a passionate kiss, the sound of his moans mixing with yours. The feeling of his body against yours was electric, every touch sending you closer to your peak.

He breaks away from your embrace with unexpected force to flip you onto all fours. He enters you once more; the intensity is almost overwhelming, but you can’t help but desire even more.

One hand gripped your hip tightly while the other snaked up to cup your breast, causing a surge of desire to course through you. Your moans grew louder and more desperate as Satoru’s rhythm became almost unbelievable.

With a guttural cry, you called out his name, begging for him to take you harder. Satoru chuckled lowly, his hand covering your mouth to stifle further outbursts. “Careful now,” he teased, “we don’t want to wake up the whole place.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks at the thought of being caught in such a compromising position. A mischievous glint appeared in Satoru’s eyes as he felt your cunt tighten from his words. This will be something he will have to remember for later.

Satoru let go of your hip, instead wrapping his hand in your throat, pulling your back into his chest. His ragged breaths brushed against your neck as he continued to push inside you with solid and deep thrusts. The intensity of his touch and the overwhelming pleasure bring you closer to the edge. You clung onto his arm, your nails digging into his skin as he kept moving within you.

You bit into your lip, trying to muffle your cries as tears began to stream down your face. Your body trembled, and your mind felt foggy as you desperately begged Satoru to continue.

Satoru released his hold, causing you to fall into the pillow. Not even bothering to try and catch yourself. He moved his hand to your swollen clit, sending you over the edge.

You clutched your pillow, burying your face to muffle your cries. “Oh fuck, I’m coming.”

You were overwhelmed by an intense feeling that made you tremble and writhe uncontrollably. Satoru kept up his relentless pace as your pussy squeezed his cock. “Shit,” he gasped as he came, filling your sticky walls with white hot cum. He collapsed on top of you but quickly caught himself before crushing you under his weight.

The room was filled with your heavy breathing, Satoru’s lips grazing your shoulders. “Are you alright?”

Before you could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. Your stomach dropped as someone knocked on your door and called out your name. It was one of the butlers. “Is everything okay? We heard a scream from downstairs.”

Shit.

[purple-racoon-80]

My thoughts on EPIC: The Musical Pt. 2

@eloquentsisyphianturmoil here ya go!!

THE UNDERWORLD SAGA

The Underworld: POLITES JUMP SCARE!!! NOT FAIR NOW IM CRYING. HIS MOTHER'S DEAD??? NO POOR ODY WE NEED A THERAPY SAGA AT THIS POINT

No Longer You: WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S NO LONGER HIM???? HUH??? EXPLAIN YOURSELF!!!

Monster: nooo this is lowkey kinda sad :((. SO WHAT IF IM THE MONSTER LURKING DEEP BELOW????

THE THUNDER SAGA

Suffering: "Penelope, why? *tucks hair behind ear* you know im too shy, and terrified" HELP THAT WAS SO BABYGIRL. its the way the siren genuinely answered his questions for me.

Different Beast: GO ODY!! THAT'S MY MAN!! bye bye sirens. although their screams and cries lowkey kinda hurt me

Scylla: OH MAN I LOVE HER VOICE AND HER DESIGN!!!! ODY WHAT THE FUCK DUDE??? I MEAN YOU KNOW I LOVE AND SUPPORT YOU BUT WHAT THE FUCK???

Mutiny: the way Eury looks so horrified at the start :(( he has every right to be mad :(((. OOF ODY GOT STABBED. PFFT- THEY TIED HIM UP. Eury, that's gonna have some backlash-

Thunder Bringer: "hiding away where only I can undress her" I hate you zeus. I hate you so much. "but we'll die" "I know" OUCH. THAT HURT. THE TEARS IN ODY'S VOICE.

THE WISDOM SAGA

Legendary: first sighting of Telemachus??? I LOVE LOVE LOVE HIM

Little Wolf: fuck you guys for trying to fuck Penelope. leave my queen alone. also, I love Athena here-

We'll Be Fine: YAYY, we get Athena and Tele. aww, their friendship is really cute.

Love In Paradise: "so, who's Penelope?" "my wife" YESS ODY GOOO. Calypso I love but hate you I love but hate you I love but hate you I love but hate you I love but hate you. ODY PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM THE EDGE. ANOTHER POLITES JUMP SCARE WHAT THE FUCK. ody is a strong, strong man. I would give in to Callie instantly.

God Games: OH MY FUCKING GOD IM THIS IS GONNA BE LONG

Apollo- my man wasn't even trying. he just wanted to leave at this point. "uh, I like signing and he killed sirens-"

Hephaestus- I LOVE LOVE LOVE HIS VOICE. I love him.

Aphrodite- she's gorgeous bro. also, its not his dam fault he couldn't make it home on time.

Ares: love love love his voice. "tell your lover a broken heart can mend." dam right.

Hera- her "hey baby" I'M SCREAMING I LOVE HER. "not once has he cheated on his wife" "release him" YESS.

Zeus I hate you. she's your daughter. zeus I hate you. zeus I hate you.

THE VENGEANCE SAGA

Not Sorry For Loving You: this actually kind of made me feel sorry for calypso. I mean, she's cursed. it's not her fault.

Dangerous: re-enforcing my fruity Hermes allegations. mmmmm, I love him so much. words can not describe how much I do. THIS SONG IS A BOP-

Charybdis: OML THIS WAS AMAZING. I can't describe how much this got me on the edge of my seat. I love this I love this I love this I love this.

Get In The Water: fuck you Poseidon he was so close. fuck you Poseidon.

Six Hundred Strike: oh my fucking god. oh lord. THE WAY HE FUCKING TORTURED POSEIDON??? DAM OH MY GOD DUDE!! ignore me freaking out over here -

this was a rollercoaster of emotions fucking hell. im so excited for the Ithaca saga ong. one moment, I have to go scream.

[littlechisa]

[haveagarbageday]

Love at first sight \\ Max Verstappen

summary: Max meets his new neighbor and her dog. They spend some time together, and he can't help but realize this might be love at first sight.

In the last few races they had been suffering, there was no better word to describe it, and Max was getting more and more frustrated as the time passed without any progress. He did all he could to help, he gave them his opinions and ideas, but nothing seemed to work properly. Yes, the races hadn’t been catastrophic, he tried to do his damn best to bring some precious points home, but it wasn’t good to see that the McLarens turned into rocket ships, Mercedes had some great races, and don’t even get him started on Charles dragging that shitbox Ferrari into higher positions.

So, no, he wasn’t in a good mood, and used the break to sulk in his apartment for a week, only leaving if it was absolutely necessary. Today was one of those days; he had no choice but to go and pick up something he ordered, but he wasn’t expecting to meet anyone on the way. Well, he wished he wouldn’t meet anyone. But the moment he stepped out of his apartment, he saw a woman stand in front of an apartment that had been empty for a while now, locking the door while her dog seemed to be very interested in him.

“Oliver, just let me lock the door, it will only take a second,” you told the dog when he tried to pull you over to him, but it was a Staffordshire terrier if he wasn’t mistaken, and they were quite strong, so no wonder you were yanked after your stubborn pet. That’s when you looked up and noticed him, and you flashed an apologetic smile at him right away. “Sorry, I don’t know what got into him, he’s usually not interested in strangers.”

The dog sniffed his leg, then moved on to check out his hand, and he seemingly came to the conclusion that he was a likable human, because he began to wag his tail excitedly, and even jumped up on him with his front legs. Max wasn’t happy by the sudden attention, but he could have sworn it seemed like the dog was smiling at him, so his heart melted a little and he couldn’t help but pet him on the head.

“Are you sure he doesn’t like strangers?” he asked with a laugh.

You shrugged. “I don’t know anymore. I mean, when he met my friends back home, he completely ignored them and decided to retreat into my bedroom to be away from the noise. Then after moving here, we stopped to talk to someone on the street, and when the poor girl tried to befriend him, he just turned around and began to pull me away from her,” you added.

Max took a better look at you, and your kind smile and shining eyes didn’t leave him unaffected. You were gorgeous in your own, unique way, different from all the girls he was used to seeing in his life, and a voice in the back of his mind began to convince him to shift the conversation to you. He wanted to know more, he wanted to be your friend, and maybe later he would ask you out on a date, because he really wished he could find out where your relationship could go.

Was this love at first sight? Was this the feeling so many people talked about?

“Do you have a destination or are you just going for a walk around the neighborhood?” he asked you, fidgeting with his watch as he waited.

For a moment, you only watched him with a surprised look, but then you looked down at you dog and let out a thoughtful him. “Well, I usually go wherever he wants to go. I know, not really an alpha-type behavior from me,” you added with a sheepish grin.

God, your smile was contagious, because his own lips curled into a wide smile at this. “How about joining me? There’s a store a few blocks away where I have to pick up a package, but there’s a dog park if we take a little detour if I’m not mistaken. We could stop there on the way back.”

You glanced down at your dog who was still wagging his tail as he watched him, so you eventually nodded and told him it sounded like a good plan. It was nice to know you weren’t against spending time with him, and it made him believe you might be open to the possibility of getting to know him better, maybe under different circumstances. He liked your dog, but there were things he would rather do without him being around. Or his cats being around for that matter, but they were usually minding their own business anyway.

Then again, he was getting ahead of himself. You were just getting to know each other; he didn’t even know your name. So, once you got into the elevator, he decided to introduce himself. You nodded, telling him you knew who he was, then assured him you weren’t some crazy fan who was obsessed with him as you supported Ferrari. That hurt, but it was still better than being a McLaren fan at this point of the season. You told him your name, and even told him you just moved here since your remote job didn’t require you to stay in your home country.

Once you opened up about your life, he began to empty the backlog of questions he had in his mind, asking you about your job, your family, your hobbies, and when you got to the dog park and let Oliver run around, he even dared to bring up the question he deemed the most important: “Did you move here on your own?” Because he was afraid you would say you came here with your boyfriend, which would mean he didn’t have a chance with you. But you only smiled and shook your head, and he could tell you understood what the question was really about.

“I came on my own, and before you ask, I’m single at the moment,” you told him as you took out your dog’s ball from your bag to throw it for him.

Max watched as Oliver brought it back, but instead of you, he decided to put it down in front of him, so he obediently bent down to pick it up and threw it away again. “That’s not why I asked,” he lied, earning an adorable laugh from you. “I’m serious.”

“All right, that’s not why you brought it up then,” you said with a grin as you nudged his arm with your shoulder. “Can it be my turn to ask questions?” you wondered as you looked up at him.

At this point, you could have asked for anything. You were so nice and kind, almost to the point it hinted at your underlying naivety, and he just felt like being the person who could love you the way you deserved, and who could protect you from mean people who might want to hurt you. It was a strange feeling he hadn’t experienced before, this protective instinct that came to the surface as he talked to you. He was drawn to you, and if it was up to him, he would have kept you in his apartment while he wanted to stay away from the rest of the world.

He didn’t even notice that he got lost in his thoughts, because he was brought back to reality when he heard you let out a thoughtful hum next to him. He almost asked you what you were thinking about, but then he remembered your question and cleared his throat. “Sure, ask away.”

To his surprise, you didn’t try to dig deep into his personal life. You asked about his cats, his hobbies, you wondered how he handled being away so much since you would probably go crazy from going from country to country all year despite loving to travel, and you closed your little interview session with a question he barely got with such sincere honesty: “How are you?” People were rarely interested in this. They asked him how he was after races, how he felt about the car or his results, but this was a question for him, the person behind the real and sim racing mask.

At first, he didn’t even know what to say. He wanted to say, “I’m frustrated because our car is terrible,” but at the same time it was also on the tip of his tongue to say something along the lines of, “I’m feeling a lot better now that I met you.” But while one was related to racing, which he didn’t feel like mentioning, the other simply made it too obvious that he was slowly falling for you. Considering you only met about two hours ago, it was almost pathetic how much he wished he could ask you out without sounding weird.

But the time wasn’t right, you would need some more time to loosen up even more around him, to get to know him in a way a lot of people never got to. In the end he decided to say something neutral. “Not in the best mood, but at least I can see the light at the end of the tunnel,” he replied.

“And what’s that light? New upgrades? Or the end of the season?” you asked him with a mysterious smile.

You.

He couldn’t say that though, not without sounding like a creep. “A mix of different things,” he replied after a short break.

After a nod, you called your dog to put him on the leash again, but he was feeling really good where he was, lying on his side and enjoying the sunshine. “I guess Oliver is so tired he’ll sleep through the rest of the day,” you told Max with a laugh, then left to collect the dog.

The three of you walked back to the apartment building, spending that time talking about casual topics, and eventually you said goodbye, then disappeared behind your front door. He stood there on the hallway for a short while, watching it as if you would return any second, but deep down he knew you wouldn’t come. He should have asked you to have dinner with him, he should have given you his number. Just in case you needed something, of course, after all you were neighbors, it was the bare minimum to have the chance to contact the other.

He spent an hour or two in the sim rig, then he somehow found himself looking for you on social media apps, hoping he could find you. And after some digging, he finally stumbled upon your account, and he didn’t hesitate to send you a DM. All he did was write about how you could always write if you needed something or if you wanted to talk, and that simple message turned into a long conversation, one that made him forget about the sim race that took place that evening. If it wasn’t for the phone call he got, he wouldn’t have remembered it.

In the morning when he woke up, the first thing he did was checking his phone to see if there were any new notifications that could interest him. And there was one that stood out: “You awake? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. How does brunch sound?” He had never typed a response faster than now that he sent you a single word: “Perfect.”

[pucksandpower]

Silverstone Silver Linings

Charles Leclerc x Oscar Piastri x George Russell x Reader

Summary: the British Grand Prix was a difficult race for all three of your boys, luckily you have an idea to make it better

The hotel room door clicks open, revealing three dejected figures silhouetted in the hallway. Charles, Oscar, and George shuffle inside, their clothing rumpled and their expressions downcast.

You sit up on the bed, concern etching your features as you take in their defeated postures. “Oh, darlings,” you murmur, opening your arms. “Come here.”

The three drivers gravitate towards you, drawn by the comfort you offer. Charles flops face-first onto the bed with a muffled groan. Oscar perches on the edge, running a hand through his tousled hair. George paces restlessly, unable to settle.

“That was ... not ideal,” Oscar says, his voice strained.

You reach out to stroke his back soothingly. “I know, love. You all drove brilliantly, though. Sometimes things just don’t go to plan.”

George lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s putting it mildly. A bloody water system issue? After starting on pole? It’s like the universe was laughing at me.”

“At least you didn’t have to suffer through the whole race,” Charles mumbles into the duvet. “I felt like such an idiot out there.”

You frown, tugging gently at Charles’ shoulder until he rolls over to face you. “Hey now, none of that talk. You followed the call that seemed right at the time because you trusted your team. How were you supposed to know the rain would stop and Ferrari fed you wrong information?”

Charles sighs, his eyes meeting yours. “I know, I know. It’s just ... frustrating. I thought maybe this would be our weekend, you know?”

Oscar nods in agreement. “Tell me about it. P2 felt so close I could taste it. Then being held out without pitting ...” He trails off, shaking his head.

You pull Oscar closer, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You showed everyone what you’re capable of today. That won’t be forgotten.”

George finally stops pacing, sinking onto the bed next to you. “I just feel so ... helpless. Like no matter what I do, something always goes wrong.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you murmur, cupping his face in your hands. “You can’t control everything. What matters is how you handle the setbacks.”

Charles props himself up on an elbow, a hint of a smile finally tugging at his lips. “She’s right, you know. We’re lucky to have such a wise girlfriend.”

Oscar chuckles softly. “And a patient one. How do you put up with three moody drivers?”

You grin, playfully ruffling his hair. “It’s not easy, but someone’s got to do it.”

George leans into your touch, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “We don’t deserve you, truly.”

“Nonsense,” you reply, pulling him closer. “You all deserve the world. And I intend to remind you of that.”

Charles’ eyes spark with interest as he finally seems to notice your attire. “Is that ... new?” He asks, gesturing to the lacy ensemble.

You blush slightly, a coy smile playing on your lips. “Maybe. I thought you boys might need some cheering up after the race.”

Oscar’s gaze roams appreciatively over you. “Well, consider me thoroughly distracted.”

George grins, some of his usual charm returning. “You know, I’m suddenly feeling much better about that DNF.”

You laugh, the sound bright and infectious. “Good. That was rather the point.”

Charles sits up fully, his earlier despondency forgotten as he drinks in the sight of you. “You are far too good to us, mon amour.”

“Never,” you insist, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “You all work so hard. You deserve to feel appreciated.”

Oscar’s hand finds yours, squeezing gently. “How did we get so lucky?”

You turn to him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m the lucky one, darling.”

George wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “I beg to differ,” he murmurs against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Charles watches the exchange with darkening eyes. “Perhaps we should show our appreciation more ... thoroughly?”

You bite your lip, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. “I certainly wouldn’t object.”

Oscar’s fingers trail along your collarbone, feather-light. “Where should we start?”

“I have a few ideas,” George says with a roguish grin, his earlier frustration melting away.

You laugh, playfully swatting at his chest. “I’m sure you do, Mr. Russell.”

Charles moves behind you, his arms encircling your waist as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “And what about you, chérie? What do you desire?”

Your breath catches as Oscar’s hand skims up your thigh. “I ... I just want you all to feel better.”

George cups your face, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “Oh, we feel much better already. But we’d like to return the favor.”

Oscar nods in agreement, his voice low. “Let us take care of you for a change.”

You melt into their touches, overwhelmed by the love and desire radiating from all three men. “Well, when you put it that way ...”

Charles chuckles, the sound vibrating against your back. “I think that’s a yes, hmm?”

George’s lips capture yours in a searing kiss, effectively silencing any further discussion. You lose yourself in the sensations, grateful for the chance to comfort your boys and be comforted in return.

As clothes are shed and caresses grow bolder, the disappointments of the day fade away. In this moment, there is only love, passion, and the unbreakable bond between the four of you.

Later, as you lie tangled together in a blissful haze, Charles breaks the comfortable silence. “You know, I think I’ve changed my mind about today.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Charles nods, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Mhm. Any day that ends like this can’t be all bad.”

George laughs, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. “I have to agree. Though I still wouldn’t mind a do-over of that race.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “Always the competitors, aren’t you?”

Oscar grins, pulling you closer. “Can you blame us? We like to win.”

“Well,” you say with a mischievous smile, “I’d say you all won today, wouldn’t you?”

Charles’ eyes sparkle with amusement. “Absolutely. Though I think we should double-check, just to be sure.”

George nods solemnly, though his lips twitch with suppressed laughter. “Very true. We wouldn’t want any doubt about the results.”

You giggle as Oscar’s fingers find a ticklish spot on your ribs. “And how do you propose we do that?”

The three drivers exchange a look, matching grins spreading across their faces. “I’m sure we can think of something,” Oscar says, his voice full of promise.

As hands begin to wander once more, you send up a silent prayer of thanks for these three incredible men and the love you share. No matter what challenges they face on the track, you know that together, you can weather any storm.

[holylulusworld]

Indifferent (1)

Summary: Your father wanted a bond between you and the Barnes Empire. No matter what.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Warnings: arranged marriage, angst, mentions of impotence, arguments, mafia au, hand around throat (no choking/non-sexual), strong reader, mentions of cheating/attempted cheating?

Indifferent Masterlist

He glares at you from across the dining table. His upper lip curls when you dig into the too-dry chicken his new cook prepared for you and your not-so-lovely husband.

“I’m not satisfied—” he leaves open what crawled up his ass today, but you know, it’s not the food. James Buchanan Barnes is bad at hiding he despises you when you are alone.

“You are not satisfied?” You chuckle dryly and drop the fork onto the table with a loud clank. “Why don’t you ask me how I feel?” You get up, chair scarping loudly over the expensive parquet.

His eyes darken when you dare to walk toward the end of the huge table. “What is it that bugs you, love?” He spats the last word as if it burned his tongue.

“You!” You throw your hands up. “This marriage is a farce. If I could, I’d be out and about in the blink of an eye. Everything is better than living with an indifferent, moody, and impotent man!”

“IMPOTENT?” Bucky rises from his seat. He squares his jaw and clenches his metal fist. For a second, you’re scared to the bones, but you brush it off.

“YES! If not I wouldn’t ride a pillow every night,” you spat in his face. “Just you know, I’m going to look for a lover first thing today. And I won’t be subtle about it. Everyone knows by now that this marriage is a bad joke. I refuse to be the butt of the joke, though.”

“You won’t ruin the union of our empires over selfish reasons.” You gasp when you end up pressed into the wall, Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around your throat. He leans closer to brush his nose over your cheek. “Even though, I don’t think you’ll find a lover anytime soon. Who would go for you if they can have some other girl? I’d go for someone else too if only I could…”

He drops his hand from your throat and smirks. Bucky steps away, flashes you a smile, and storms out of the dining room.

You stand there, shell-shocked at his outburst as you rub your throat. His words hurt like hell. You drop your eyes to look down at your body. It’s been a while since you felt this kind of hurt. 

Maybe it’s you. Maybe Bucky isn’t interested in being with you because of your looks.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Bucky barks outside your shared bedroom. “Woman, I don’t have all day. My parents want to have lunch with the two of us. Just put a smile on and come here.”

You walk out of the bedroom, an armful of your clothes. “I think it’s for the best to not keep the act up. We are married, but this doesn’t mean I must spend time with your father.”

Bucky watches you walk toward the west wing of the mansion. He follows you hot on your heels, all the while throwing questions at you. 

“Where are you going? What are you up to? Y/N, answer me!”

“I’ll stay at the west wing from now on. Annie will help me bring my belongings to the west wing. You can do whatever you want to at your wing. Just stay out of my sight.”

You walk away, leaving Bucky stunned and angry. He grits his teeth and calls you names as you slam the heavy door parting the west wing from the entrance hall shut.

“What the fuck!” He mutters under his breath. So far, you suffered in silence ignoring his unbearable behavior, and the openly shown hatred towards you and your marriage. Now you riot and he doesn’t handle it well.

“Where’s your lovely wife?” George cocks his head as his son sits down on their table. “I thought you said she’ll be here too.”

“She’s not feeling well today,” Bucky lies straight into his father’s face. What else can he do? How shall he explain that the bond your parents forced upon the both of you lies in ruins after not even six months into marriage?

“Ah, she finally snapped,” Winnifred remarks while studying the menu. She smiles to herself, while her husband and Bucky turn their heads toward her. “Good for her. I was rooting for Y/N.”

She slowly closes the menu and lies it down on the table. Winnifred doesn’t give away more. She orders her food and a glass of white wine. Your mother-in-law is in the mood to celebrate.

It wasn’t a lie. She was rooting for you to take matters into your own hands. It took you longer than she liked but now, she’ll lean back and watch her son grovel.

“What do you mean?” Bucky and George say in unison. They are surprised at Winnifred’s answer.

“You forced that lovely woman into marriage and didn’t even try to make her feel welcome. Did you at least give her orgasms?” She chuckles. Bucky’s face turns red, he swallows thickly, and uncomfortably shifts in his seat. “I see. The poor woman suffers in silence.” She sighs now. “Alright, I’ll give her the number of our gardener. He’s got a son who will gladly help Y/N take care of her secret garden.”

“What?” George is at a loss for words while his son tries to forget that his mother was asking him about your non-existent sex life. “Mother!”

“What? I’m a red-blooded woman, just like Y/N. If you don’t find satisfaction with your husband, you must look elsewhere. Men do it all the time.” She shrugs before taking a sip of her white wine. “Y/N is a beautiful woman in her best years. Her sexual drive must be over the top after six months of not getting any attention.”

“Winni, stop saying things like that in public,” George snarls. “You are making a scene.”

“I’m not making a scene,” Winnifred bites back. “I try to make our son see that his wife will turn toward someone else in no time if he doesn’t take care of her every whim soon. You’ll weaken our bond, and this will shatter both of our empires. Is that what you want, son?”

Is that what you want? His mother’s words echoed in his mind the whole way back home. Of course, he doesn’t want to weaken your empires. 

The only purpose of your marriage was to strengthen not only his father’s empire but your father’s empire too.

If you turn toward someone else, an enemy maybe to get back at Bucky, the empires could crumble and fall only because he’s too stubborn to let you inside his life.

Bucky enters the mansion, a grim expression coloring his features. If only you weren’t so infuriating and stubborn he could’ve easily settled for you.

But no.

Y/N Y/L/N is the most annoying and bratty woman he ever met.

Sometimes Bucky believes you’re riling him up on purpose.

“Wait—” he stops in his tracks. Bucky furrows his brows as he tries to recall all of your little fights. “Is she doing it on purpose? Maybe she wants me to lose control and just…”

“Where are you going?” Bucky follows you out of the mansion. “Y/N stop being a brat. I asked you a question and I expect you to answer my damn question!”

“Out,” you glance over your shoulder at Bucky. “Your mother sent me something interesting and now, I want to find out if it’s for me.”

“She did what?” Bucky looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. He pants heavily and clutches his fists to his sides. “You won’t leave the ground for the time being.”

You huff. “Try me.”

He closes the distance between the two of you with three long steps to grab your arm. “Don’t tempt me to throw you over my shoulder! You’ll go back inside and listen to what I have to say.”

You laugh in his face. “Make me!”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[nisuna]

I don't know which horny spirit posessed me yesterday to think of this, but here we are, hope you enjoy!! 🫠😈😈

TW: m x f x m; male on male action, blowjob, boobjob, cum eating, spit kink, a bit of snowballing, nipple play, male and female orgasm, oral fixation, finger sucking, threesome; sweetheart, making out

boyfriend!Geto x f!reader x bestfriend!Gojo

<3masterlist<3

-------------------strictly 18+ MDNI--------------------

When your boyfriend Suguru suggested to have a threesome with his bestfriend you weren't surprised by starting off with a good old blowjob. What you were surprised by however, is that your boyfriend wanted to join in on the fun.

"Give him a boob job while I suck him off."

You blinked up at him dumbfounded.

"Go on, use those tits.", he nudged you and smiled expectedly.

You didn't question him any further, pulling your top over your head, making your tits spill out oh so deliciously.

You could hear Satoru gulp at the sight of you and Suguru bare and on your knees in front of him. You had to hold back a chuckle at his flushed cheeks and tips of his ears. His leg was anxiously bobbing up and down in anticipation while his hands grabbed fistfulls of the bedsheets.

"Do what you do best sweetheart, you know how I like it, I bet he'll love it too.", Suguru grinned at you first and shifted his gaze to Satoru.

You immediately gathered a glob of saliva and let it drip down between your breasts.

Suguru smiled at you proudly. He squeezed your breasts together, adding some of his own spit as he smeared it all over your chest, pinching your hardening nipples in between gropes. Just like that you let the first few moans of the night slip past your lips before scooting closer to Satoru's cock and starting to rub yourself against him.

You saw his head tip back with a deep groan from the feeling of being engulfed between the soft flesh of your tits. You felt proud of the effect you had on him and started moving.

Suguru was lost in thought, looking at the way your back was arching and watching as your tiny panties were digging into the fat of your hips and ass.

A whine of his name pulled him out of his trance, finally looking back into your eyes.

"C'mon~~", you whined, tits rubbing up and down Satoru's cock, "I thought we were gonna do this together." you pouted.

Suguru cracked a smile before leaning down, tongue running over satorus sensitive tip. A few cracked "fucks" left Satoru's mouth at the feeling of your slick tits in combination with Suguru's hot mouth.

As you watched him suck on the tip that was protruding from between your tits, your mouth felt empty and your pussy clenched around nothing. You began rubbing your thighs together and Suguru's eyes shifted back to you.

He could physically feel your discomfort and knew what was wrong, so he came up with something to soothe your suffering.

He pulled away with a pop and stuffed his fingers in your mouth. A muffled moan was all you could muster as you instinctively started sucking on them.

"There, all better now, hm?"

You nodded your head, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth as your eyes rolled back. After a few sucks and tiny bites you went back to squeezing your tits around Satoru's throbbing cock.

Satoru was beyong shaking at this point, mouth agape and panting for dear life. Suguru's voice brought him back. The white haired male's eyes snapped down to the sight between his legs. Your eyes were glossed over and you looked so dishevelled already.

"Let her suck on your fingers. I can't get you off properly with my hand in the way."

It took Satoru a few seconds to register his best friend's words. When he gave him a nod, Suguru pulled his fingers out and you whined at the loss of contact, keeping your mouth open, ready to take Satoru's thick fingers instead.

He was hesitant at first, only running his fingers over your soft wet tongue.

"C'mon just stuff them in there, trust me she can take it."

Without warning he finally shoved his fingers in your mouth, making you hum contently.

"Oh, and just so you know, she likes to bite sometimes when she gets too excited. So watch out.", Suguru grinned, going back to lapping at Satoru's leaking cock.

It didn't take long after that for Satoru to whine that he's about to cum.

"Good boy, cum for us. Ah ah not in my mouth, you better cum on her face and tits."

You whined when he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and began pumping his cock instead. You waited patiently, eyes closes and tits on display to be painted. When his cum hit your skin it was hot and thick. You tried your best to stay still but your cunt was beyond throbbing at this point.

"You look so pretty for us, sweetheart, good job. C'mon let me help you with the mess he made.", your boyfriend praised.

You let out a few mewls as he began licking you clean. He paid special attention to your nipples and kissing along your face. After he had gathered enough cum in his mouth he pulled you into a kiss, basically shoving the cum down your throat with his tongue. The cum was thick and bitter but the situation you were in made you eagerly swallow every drop.

Your nipples and breasts felt oversensitive from the constant attention of being rubbed, nipples pinched and bitten sore.

As he was deepening the kiss, his hand pulled yours on top of his crotch signaling you to jerk him off. You didn't protest, way to drunk off of his lips and Satoru's cum on your tongue. While you were jerking him off he finally paid attention to your throbbing clit, running his slender yet thick fingers over the wet spot that has formed on your panties.

You felt high at this point, grinding down on his hand while pushing your soft chest into his hard one. When you felt yourself get close you put your chin on his shoulder, panting out loud while digging the nails of your free hand into the lean flesh of his toned back.

"Don't stop moving that hand even when you cum alright, sweetheart?"

You just gave him a nod, sobbing when your orgasm washed over you. You felt so sensitive and whiney, letting out the lewdest sounds they have heard to date.

All Satoru could do was watch as you two got eachother off, his dick hardening in his palm again.

When your body began to shake from the overstimulation Suguru gently pushed you onto the bed and came all over your soft tummy and swollen breasts.

You were a drooling, dripping mess trying to catch your breath as best as you could, reaching out to Suguru for some comfort. He gave you the comfort you were craving in the form of a soft palm running soothingly through your hair.

Satoru was speechless, taking in the scene in front of him. Did that really just happen? He snapped back when he heard Suguru's voice.

"Come on now Satoru, your turn to lick her clean.", Suguru edged his friend on. Satoru didn't hesitate, immediately lowering his face to your exposed skin. His tongue was running over your tummy so gently you began to squirm away, only to be pushed back down by two strong arms. He was taking his sweet time with you, his kitten licks tickling you and making your toes curl.

"Oh and don't swallow yet", Suguru warned. "I want her to taste me as well."

As he was gathering the cum in his mouth he left some hickeys along his path, them already blooming purple all over your chest. Once he was mostly done, he kissed up your body, leaning in to catch your lips in a kiss only to be stopped by Suguru's stern voice.

"No. Spit in her mouth.", he smirked and looked down. "Now, open up. Yeaahh good girl swallow it all."

You didn't hesitate obediently opening your mouth, tongue lolling out as Satoru spit the cum into your awaiting mouth. You looked like you just got fucked stupid, but they haven't even been inside of you yet. This was going to be a long night.

---------

Don't mind me I'm just chilling in my horny puddle AHHAHAHAHA as I said smth posessed me and I was in the mood for a threesome involving a boob job and the guy sucking the other one off soo loool and be honest, who'd be a better match than SatoSugu themselves ha ha

But anyway let me know your thoughts MWAH

[psi-hate]

alright, this really, really sucks but i have an unfortunate update that occurred regarding my recent living situation.

not to get into too much detail for the sake of my friend's privacy, but she and her fiance offered to take me in after i was suddenly on the verge of homelessness this february. i accepted their offer and moved in thanks to everyone's support, and for the last few months, i felt comfortable and capable in getting myself together for the first time in years.

however, despite what i assumed were all positive developments, things started getting a lot more complicated. i become exposed to the treatment and stress my friend has been suffering from her fiance over many years, from being spied on via tracking apps, in-house cameras, a ridiculous jealousy complex and all sorts of other personal issues.

her friends and i have been supporting her over the years, but i didn't realize how bad it was until i started to be subjected to it as well.

my friend decided to break up with her fiance last week, finally standing up for herself but still wanting to remain friends and live as normally as they could, they still had the house and their cats and such. her now ex-fiance hasn't taken kindly to this and has been pretty passively hostile towards us, and has started to take it out on me.

she started stalking my tumblr to find things to get mad at, and checking the cameras when i leave my room. i've not felt comfortable to leave my room in well over a week other than to get some food or use the bathroom in the middle of the night, the tension has been a nightmare.

my friend and i decided we needed to move out, especially me since i'm technically not a tenant and we suspect she's going to call the police on me to get me out of here. my friend will be going to her parents at a later point, but i unfortunately need to leave within a couple weeks as i've already been "indirectly" threatened.

this is sort of a nightmare, and i feel so horrible things turned out this way for my friend. i tried my best, but this feels out of my control. trying to keep the peace has only made things worse, and we think it's best for me to book it before i get blind-sighted.

i suspect if her ex-fiance sees this, she'll retaliate, but at this point i've already made my peace with that.

unfortunately, i won't be able to bring much of my stuff with me, i only have enough money for a ticket to move in with another close friend as an emergency.

i don't have enough to buy any checked bags for most my belongings, especially my desktop pc, so once i move i'm very likely going to not be able to do my art or anything until i can afford a laptop eventually. i'm really sorry to those waiting on any commissions, i'll try my best to get them done before i move. i feel so horrible about this.

if anyone is able to help, i'd really appreciate it. even just a reblog is more than i can really ask. i hesitate to make this request because i feel like i just asked for it only for it to all be wasted once this exploded in my face. but i've been encouraged to reach out, and i apologize if this is too much. my ko-fi:

thank you so much for supporting me so far. i don't want to disappoint anyone anymore. i am so scared but i still want to keep trying.

[justhereforthemeta]

Romantic expectations and the story we didn't see: A magic trick hiding in plain sight

Here's a hopeful meta for all my fellow celestial brainrot sufferers out there. Cheers! :)

This idea started as a dead end, trying to track the movements of Crowley’s sideburns/tattoo because I thought time travel shenanigans were afoot. I had to abandon that theory when it was pointed out that David was simultaneously filming as the sideburns-having Fourteenth Doctor, and in-universe Crowley can do whatever he wants with his facial hair whenever he feels like it. But hey - null findings are still findings!

On the bright side, pausing the show to make notations in a spreadsheet forced me to slow down and notice other changes I'd overlooked the first time around: acting choices, costuming choices, references to book lore. And possibly a few surreptitious flicks of the wrist, in places where we’re meant to be focused on the magician’s other hand.

@amuseoffyre and @ineffablefood had a great exchange recently about romance and “the significance of misdirection and three-in-one (magic) tricks” throughout the show. I suspect Neil has done something brilliant with the audience’s long-standing expectations (since the 1990s, really) for the love story between Crowley and Aziraphale to develop. And while it is a wonderful story indeed, playing to this expectation lets Neil distract his audience from the blink-and-you'll-miss-them seeds he's planting for the final chapter.

Continued below the cut...

Let’s start at the beginning of Episode 2. First, context: In the previous installment, Crowley stormed out of the bookshop, was whisked away to Hell by Beelzebub where he learns about the Book of Life threat to Aziraphale’s existence, then returned to the bookshop to dance a little apology dance and hide Gabriel with an unintentionally massive joint miracle. In S2E2, we and Shax catch up with Crowley as he's snoozing in the Bentley.

Shax: “You’re in trouble”

A. J. Crowley, cool as a cucumber: “Obviously. Former demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Interesting! Sarcastic? Yes, absolutely; but that’s also a good 4500 years and an averted apocalypse away from “I’m a demon. I lie,” wouldn’t you say? Someone is sounding a whole lot less depressed and aimless and navel-gazey (do snakes have navels?), and a whole lot more like he’s got a project to focus on, since his "what's the point?" ruminations on the park bench in E1.

And of course we all noticed the costume change right away. Hello, black turtleneck. Feeling cute today, thought I’d cover up my graceful long neck? That sounds unlikely. Let’s put a pin in this one.

There’s also an interesting acting choice going on here. Crowley speaks to Shax in a funny, drawling, too-cool-for-you voice that we haven’t heard in a while. Specifically, not since 1967. If you go back and give the S1E3 scene in the Dirty Donkey a listen, you’ll hear it (and if you know of another instance of it that I've missed, please let me know!). In S2E2, he keeps up this odd voice (if anybody knows what kind of affect this is supposed to be, please do tell!) throughout this dialogue with Shax, except for the brief moment when she first surprises him about the joint miracle having been detected.

1967 was a fun year. Crowley masterminded a heist! And seemed like he was having a ball doing it, right up until his little caper was called off after Aziraphale brought him the thermos of holy water. Crowley spoke to his co-conspirators in that same funny, very 60’s-caper-film voice. He wore a hip 60’s turtleneck. He bought petrol for the only time ever, so he could get those sweet James Bond bullet hole decals for his car (per the book, seen on the Bentley in the show).

Those James Bond bullet hole decals would of course have been part of a promotion for this 1967 release, which you just know our film-enjoying demon went to see in the theater:

Starring this suave, be-turtlenecked guy:

And now - begging your forgiveness - a brief rant.

There are a number of posts out there that refer to Crowley’s S2E2 turtleneck as a flirtatious sartorial choice - actually, ‘slutty’ seems to be the favored accusation. There are even a few posts floating around commenting on how sweet it is that Crowley swaps out his slutty, kinky, throw-me-over-your-desk-and-take-me turtleneck for a more dressy and appropriate collared shirt specifically to attend Aziraphale’s Jane Austen ball. 

Now this is all in good fun, and Crowley does indeed look fantastic here, and I do love a good fangirling sesh as much as the next person. However, fandom’s collective tendency to interpret what we are seeing on the screen through the lens of romantic expectation can, at times, give rise to a kind of blinkered enthusiasm that obscures the original text in a haze that is part Mandela Effect, part unrestrained horniness, and part in-group code talking and identity reinforcement.

Respectfully, Crowley’s black turtleneck does not appear at all in S2E5: The Ball. In fact, it never appears again after the end of S2E2.

For Someone’s sake, let’s collectively pull our heads out of the romantic fog/gutter for a moment and focus on what we are actually seeing in the book and on the screen. For Crowley, this is an uncharacteristic within-period costume change. There is a surreptitious flick of the wrist happening here, out in broad daylight, and we are all missing it.

So here’s a thing. Aziraphale appears to have settled comfortably into life on Earth, his neighborhood, his books, using Crowley as an outlet for sharing his good deeds that he would once have reported to Heaven. Meanwhile, at first glance, Crowley appears stuck in a rut. There he slouches on a park bench with Shax in S2E1: a guy who lives in his car, stagnantly clinging to old familiar habits, mulling over the pointlessness of it all.

Setting aside the bit about living in the Bentley (I’m going to attribute this to well-documented issues between him and Aziraphale, discussed in many other excellent metas, and move on), Crowley has at least two very good, proactive reasons for maintaining his contact with Hell through Shax. First and foremost, it’s a source of information he can use to keep ahead of potential threats to Aziraphale and himself.

But also, I would posit…he kinda likes it.

Recall that book GO was first conceived as a parody, with Aziraphale and Crowley as spy-against-spy (but not really) field operatives in an ages-old cold war between Heaven and Hell. Their entire book dynamic is rooted in the trope of two opposing agents who have been in the field for so long that they now have more in common with each other than with their respective head offices. Their St. James’s Park meetings among other spies and ministers trading secrets are a sendup of what was once a well-known Cold War-era cliché. 

Our contemporary Crowley still likes slick outfits and hellaciously expensive watches and high-performing vintage cars and pens that write underwater while looking like they could break the speed limit. He coaches Shax on how to blend in as a demon on Earth, and he helpfully redirects the wayward contact looking for the Azerbaijani sector chief. He loves improvising and getting away with shenanigans under the institutional radar. And boy golly was he impressed with Jane Austen: master spy, brandy smuggler, and mastermind of the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. 

And if you look at it a certain way, for as long as Crowley has considered himself to be on “[his] own side” - going at least as far back as Job - he could almost think of himself as a sort of double agent. It’s actually a very romantic sort of notion, befitting our hopeless romantic of a (professedly former) demon; but it’s romantic in a very different way than we, the audience, have been primed to watch for.

In other words, in a very “on my own side” kind of way, Crowley really gets a kick out of being a spy. Or at least, dressing up and accessorizing as one, and moonlighting as a good-doing double agent when he can get away with it. And also being a plotting criminal mastermind. Two sides of a coin, really. Just look at Jane Austen.

My point is: No, Crowley did not wait around for Shax to come find him in a turtleneck so that he could go flirt with Aziraphale later. He’ll flirt with Aziraphale no matter what. No, this:

is actually this:

Much like the one he wears to the Dirty Donkey in 1967: 

whilst holy water heist-plotting. Here's a clearer shot with gratuitous Bentley, because I love them:

…and which he'll wear again, with appropriate camouflage, while infiltrating Heaven in S2E6:

That is the 1967 planning a HEIST turtleneck for committing ESPIONAGE and STEALING THINGS in. Because turtlenecks are what modern human master spies wear to get their hands dirty - after all, he saw it in a movie once. 

Crowley dons his tactical turtleneck sometime during the first major break in the action (which doesn't happen until after the joint miracle to hide Gabriel) after he learns about the threat the Book of Life poses to Aziraphale. Loverboy started mentally preparing himself to go after that book immediately upon learning that it was in play as a genuine threat. 

Now let’s pick up at the S2E2 Dirty Donkey scene, reading the story from this angle. Of course, Crowley enables Aziraphale’s delusions about Heaven by hiding information from him, and does not disclose the Book of Life threat when they meet again. They go into the pub, Aziraphale shamelessly paws Crowley’s chest like the seductive Bond Girl he is, and Crowley gets to act all smooth and suave and intimidating as he chases off the interloping Mr. Brown (or Mr. Collins for the Pride & Prejudice fans, take your pick).

Ergo, theory: beginning in S2E2, Crowley is already thinking of himself as a Jane Austen/James Bond action hero (“How will our hero cope?”), psyching himself up to rescue Aziraphale by getting his spy game on and stealing the Book of Life.

Now, watch closely...This is where Aziraphale and Crowley brainstorm their plans to solve the problem they both know about: getting Maggie and Nina to fall in love and thereby get Heaven off their backs. Crowley’s vavoom plan is drawn from yet another movie (“Get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes - vavoom, sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis film.”). But Crowley also implicitly shares his solution to the problem he hasn’t told Aziraphale about. And true to form, Crowley’s Jane Austen solution isn’t the same as Aziraphale’s Jane Austen solution. 

Two solutions that fail by the end of Season 2, and a secret third one that might still work...and there's our magic trick of three.

‘“I’m lost. Am I doing a rainstorm?” Yes, babe. And a heist, too - just not until season three. Can I get a wahoo!? 

I won’t spend time on A Companion to Owls during this meta, except to note that in all three minisodes, we get to watch stories that involve Crowley acting as a double agent on “his/their own side” - successfully making Hell and Heaven think he’s fulfilling their will while saving Job’s goats and children; failing to fool Hell when he does a good deed in Edinburgh; and of course, collaborating with Aziraphale whilst evading detection as an infernal turncoat during the Blitz.

(Because this is getting long, I'll also skip over Crowley's interrogation of Jim in this episode - I'll probably come back to that in another meta. But interrogating is a rather spy-ish thing to do.)

When we catch up with Crowley again later, he’s already slipped out of the bookshop, having left Aziraphale to his biblical reverie about Job. He saunters snakily down Whickber Street as usual, but with a very pointed and swift glance over his shoulder (see pic above). This demon is up to something - possibly something we didn’t get to see, something that may have happened offscreen while he stepped out. In any case, knowing there’ve been unfriendly angels in the neighborhood that morning, he’s rightly concerned about being spied on.

From this point until the beginning of episode six, there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity for Crowley to make any next moves. He babysits the bookshop, during which time he manages to wring some crucial information out of Jim; he follows his Crowley’s Angel around like a puppy, and downs a bottle of red like a good old fashioned lovesick boy once that’s been pointed out to him. If any plotting or scheming is underway, this occult being is keeping stumm for now.

This has been a long one, so I’ll wrap up with Crowley’s infiltration of Heaven with Muriel. The turtleneck disguise works (Archer fans, be vindicated!) long enough to gather some information that will be crucial not just to the denouement of S2, but also to Crowley’s journey in S3 (previous post on Crowley's Fall, Saraqael, and memory wiping). And Aziraphale gets to enjoy that view exactly zero times. The point isn’t oh, a turtleneck! How flirty! So cunty! So cute! Y’all. Everything matters. The costume change was a deliberate choice. In-universe, Crowley’s decision to wear his special spy turtleneck for spying in is a signal that he is out doing spy things, even as we watch.

In sum: Beginning in S2E2 and continuing through the end of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley are actively living out the scripts of two parallel, concurrent, and completely different Jane Austen stories. But you and I, dear fellow audience member, we came here for a comedy with a hefty jigger of romance, and that’s what Neil gave us to focus on. And right up until the Final 15, that was the only story we saw.

Meanwhile, Special Agent A. J. Crowley doesn’t have time to mope around at the end of S2E6. He’s kicked down, but he’s not out. He's got a Book of Life to steal, a very serious bone to pick with a certain memory-wiping angel, and his Angel and the world to save. 

“‘Heigh ho,’ said [romantic, optimist, former demon, hero, master spy] Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway.”

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 DRIVE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: against all odds, you come across dazai osamu again, and you somehow find yourself roped into being his date for an event celebrating the armed detective agency. you're not falling. you swear. (you're lying). {wordcount: 9.2k; fem!reader, sfw, romance}

AUTHOR'S NOTES part 2 is hereeeeee! i hope you guys enjoy, this scene had one of my favs to write so i hope you like it too!! reblogs definitely appreciated!! i’ll reblog with the taglist as soon as it decides to show on the dash & in the tags!

SEE: BADLANDS SERIES MASTERLIST READ: UNREAL UNEARTH SIDE B

“We really need to stop meeting like this.”

You aren’t sure how you feel as you stare at the man hanging upside down, tangled in a tapestry—amused, concerned, partly puzzled, a combination of all three really. Dazai Osamu looks half out of it as his gaze focuses on you; you wonder how long he’s been hanging like this, and how he managed to get in this position in the first place. 

For the second time in two weeks, the man manages to catch you off guard, this time on your way home from a date that had gone horribly, horribly wrong with a classmate; you’d already spent the past two hours wandering the streets upset over all of this and you were ready to get home, but now you find yourself hesitating.

“Ah, my sweet, sweet belladonna, my lovely savior,” Dazai sighs, directing a quick, flirty smile toward you. “Won’t you help a poor, suffering man?” 

“How did you manage this, Dazai?” you ask, letting the entertainment slip into your tone to distract yourself from the stress of the failed date as you look around and try to figure out the best way to get him down from where he’s entangled. You’d have to climb up onto the nearby dumpster to get enough reach to cut him down but you don’t even have anything to cut him down with. 

“I tried to jump off that building,” he sighs, and you follow his gaze up to the tall building right to the left of the two of you. Your lips part in shock, you suppose you should have figured something like that because how else would he end up tangled upside down in a tapestry, but it’s still jarring to hear. “But I hit this on the way down and got stuck. I’ve been here for way too long, so many people have passed me by without helping—what a cruel, cruel world.”

“You are either the luckiest or unluckiest man alive,” you murmur, catching sight of a jagged piece of metal underneath the dumpster, picking it up and doing your best to climb onto it, but it’s difficult in heels and a dress. “Why are you so intent on dying?”

“Why are you so intent on living?” Dazai hits you with a question back instead of responding, peering up at you as he slowly spins in the air while you do your best to cut through the thick tapestry. 

You frown at the question, brows furrowing. “Because I have things I still need to accomplish. Goals to achieve. Don’t you?” 

“The only goal I need to achieve is finding a beautiful lady to do a double suicide with,” Dazai says, lips curling up into another charming smile but the effects of it are diminished because of the way he was still hanging upside down, spinning in slow circles. “Would you like to join me, bella?”

“Maybe in fifty years,” you say dryly. 

“I’ll-”

Dazai doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you finally cut through the tapestry and he tumbles down head first to the ground. You bite back a smile as he lets out a loud yelp, crumpling on the ground in an unceremonious heap. You lower yourself back down to the ground, eyes settling on him as you watch him push himself into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his head. 

He looks up at you through his lashes, the charming smile on his lips a bit more lazy and casual as he looks over you. “My, aren’t you dressed pretty? What’s the occasion?” As you prepare to give a bullshit excuse, he holds up his hand and says: “Wait! Let me guess. A long day of work and no one to go out with after, so you decided to get all dressed up and walk around the city to see if fate would lead you to someone, and since our fingers are tied by that thin red thread, naturally, you were led right to me. Oh, my fated, no wonder I’ve evaded death so easily despite so many attempts, destiny refused to let me die as we’re predestined to be together.”

You stare at him, watching as he presses the back of his hand to his forehead, tilting his head back because what the fuck?

“I was on a date,” you say, ignoring the entire rest of what he said to answer his question, truthfully at that because his whole tirade about destiny and fate had thrown you off. 

Dazai wilts, but then straightens up again and says, “Well, it couldn’t have been a good one if he didn’t at least walk you home.”

You grimace. “I think I should be insulted by how pleased you look at my night being ruined,” you mutter, holding your hand out to him to help him up. 

Dazai places his hand in yours; long, thin fingers wrapped around your hand as you help him to his feet. He doesn’t let go immediately, nor does he back away, brown eyes lidded as he looks down at you, so close that your clothes were brushing his. The corner of his lips tilt up, his fingertips grazing your inner wrist. “How about we make the most of a ruined night then?”

You raise your eyebrows—you think you should get back to your apartment, get some work done to make up for how much of a mess the night had turned out, but you find yourself hesitating because do you really want to go wallow alone now? 

“How do you plan we do that?” you ask instead of giving him an answer, although he evidently takes it as an answer considering his face lights up at your words.

“Come on,” he says, tugging your arm as he turns to make his way down the sidewalk, dragging you along with him. “I’ll show you someplace.”

“O-okay,” you fumble over your words in surprise, but it isn’t like Dazai is giving you much of a choice considering the way he’s pulling you along with him. 

Your face feels hot when you notice the people still prowling the streets shooting the two of you odd looks—Dazai doesn’t seem to care, focusing on getting you to whatever destination he has planned, but you can feel their eyes burning into you with every step you take. 

“Ignore them,” Dazai says, as if he can read your thoughts. He tosses his head over his shoulder as he looks at you, the corner of his lips curling up into another lazy smile that makes your breath catch. “They don’t know how to have fun.”

“Yeah,” is all you reply with, a bit doubtfully as you turn your gaze up to the dark skies, where the dark clouds you had noticed earlier in the day are now gathered over the city. “It’s going to rain.”

Dazai only raises his eyebrows, face riddled with disbelief as he turns fully to look at you, walking backwards without a care in the world as he forces people to walk around him. “Now, you care about rain?” he asks, referring to your first meeting.

You let out a puff of laughter. “I guess you have a point.”

“Naturally,” he says, teeth gleaming beneath the streetlamps as his grin widens. “I’m one of the Agency’s sharpest detectives, after all.”

“How humble,” you note, but your voice is light, teasing, and you’re almost embarrassed. 

Dazai is unbothered by your playful dig, spinning back around to turn down the sidewalk onto a busier street, carelessly pulling you along with him and causing people to swerve around the two of you. You try to fumble out apologies as people shoot the two of you dirty looks but Dazai barely gives you enough time to speak the words as he continues down the street. 

“Have you heard?” Dazai asks, returning to walking backward so he can look at you, garnering even more angry looks. “We’re heroes now.”

You have heard, of course, it’s all over the news. You hadn’t been in Yokohama when everything happened, you were visiting a friend outside of the city, but you’d seen it all going down on the TV as it was happening. And naturally, it’s impossible to avoid all of the news articles honoring the Armed Detective Agency and their part in taking down the threat to the city afterward.

“I have,” you drawl, and then add after a moment’s hesitation: “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating instead of…”

Instead of trying to kill yourself.

“This is me celebrating,” Dazai says mournfully, so casually that it takes you aback as he tilts his head back in grief. “It was supposed to be successful this time.”

“Well…” You aren’t sure what to say to that, the words dying on your lips as the first raindrops begin to fall from the sky. “I’m glad it wasn’t successful,” you finally decide upon, averting your gaze as Dazai’s face shifts into one of surprise as he looks down at you.

His lips part as if to say something, but seems to decide against it, instead letting a smile slip onto his face as he says: “Speaking of celebrations, my sweet belladonna, this hero needs a date to the celebratory event that the government is hosting for us in two weeks. Join me?”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, as the rain begins to come down harder—a flash flood, you realize. You watch as people start scattering around you, running for cover, but you and Dazai remain standing in the middle of the sidewalk, him awaiting your answer and you trying to figure out how to politely say you’d rather die than go to a celebratory event with people you don’t know.

You wonder if Dazai suspects your answer because he does not, in fact, give you the chance to speak.

Your eyes widen as he tugs you closer to him. “What’re you doing?” you stutter over your words as his free hand finds your hip and he spins the two of you around recklessly, forcing several people to dodge again as they run past the two of you and into a store to wait for the sudden rain to pass. Only his firm grip on you keeps you from slipping on the puddles forming on the sidewalk beneath the two of you. “Dazai!” 

“Dancing,” is all he replies with, eyes shining as he lifts his arm to twirl you beneath it, your heels splashing in a puddle as he drags you along with his dance like a puppet. “It’s supposed to be romantic—dancing in the rain���I’ve seen it in movies, are you romanced, yet?” 

You aren’t sure what makes you want to laugh, maybe it’s the absurdity of the situation or the way Dazai keeps having to blink away the raindrops that fall into his eyes, but before you know it, you're biting your lower lip to withhold the giggles rising through your chest. 

“Are you laughing at me?” Dazai gasps in mock offense as he spins you outward once. You nearly trip over your heels but before you can, he’s spinning you back toward him, arm wrapping around your waist as he dips you down. “And here I was thinking I was doing a good job romancing you.”

His voice drops an octave as he lowers his voice, dark eyes searching yours, and you think that there’s absolutely nothing romantic about this. Rain is pouring down over the two of you, his hair is wet and matted against his forehead, dripping in your face as he hangs over you, you can feel his breath fanning against your lips and his body heat radiating against yours. Lightning webs across the sky above him, illuminating his face in a way that has your breath catching. You’re in heels and a dress and you can so easily trip and break your ankle, it’s only his hold on you preventing that from happening. It’s dangerous, and stupid—and maybe it’s a little romantic.

“I-”

You aren’t even able to get the admission from your lips because as soon as you begin to speak, someone slams into Dazai from behind. You yelp and his eyes widen as he stumbles forward, twisting the two of you around so he takes the brunt of the fall. He hits the ground hard with an ‘oof,’ half in the muddy grass and half on the sidewalk, and you fall on top of him, lips parted in shock.

“Well,” Dazai finally says after a few moments of stunned silence. “This is distinctly less romantic.”

And you laugh. Unable to hold it back now, you burst into laughter—hands braced on his chest, body flush against his, there’s mud splattered across his face and you’re pretty sure your makeup must be running down your cheeks from the rain. You think that your heels are probably ruined and you’d have to spend hours getting the stains out of your dress, but you laugh because you can’t remember the last time you actually had fun and weren’t stressed about school and the future, and your night had been going so horribly that you’d lost any hope of it taking a turn for the better. You might’ve been crying a bit too, you aren’t sure why, but it’s raining so you hope that he doesn’t notice.

You notice Dazai’s eyebrows lift a bit in surprise before his face seems to soften, a small smile tugging at his lips as he lets his head fall back against the mud.

“So,” he says, “about that date?”

“Nobody believes I have a date for the event,” Dazai complains two weeks later as he enters your apartment and throws himself onto your couch, watching as you dab on some dark red lipstick—an occurrence you’d become quite used to the past two weeks, because evidently Dazai Osamu does not need a key nor invitation into your home, he just picks the lock and comes right in. At least you’re expecting him this time. “Atsushi-kun laughed in my face. He laughed in my face! Can you believe it? After everything I’ve done for him, the nerve.”

You grin, glancing up into your mirror to catch his eyes. “To be honest, I still don’t believe you have a date for the dinner and I am your date.”

Dazai blanches, throwing his arm over his face as he slumps into the couch. “Et tu, bella?” he sighs sorrowfully and you laugh, spinning around in your chair to face him. 

“Think of it this way,” you say, twisting your lipstick back into its container and placing it into your purse. Dazai peek up from the couch, eyes focusing on you as you speak. You almost feel a bit flustered under his gaze, it’s more intense than you expected. “You’ll get to see the looks on their face when they realize that you do actually have a date.”

Dazai brightens a bit at your words and then, as if a sudden thought passed through his head, he begins cackling like a madman—although you’re beginning to think the description is far more apt than you believed, Dazai Osamu is simply not sane. “Kunikada-kun is going to be so mad that I have a date and he doesn’t.”

“You’re wrinkling your suit, sit up straight,” you say and turn your attention back to the mirror, discreetly watching as Dazai lets out an exaggerated sigh before doing as you ask. Your eyes linger on him for a moment—he looks different dressed up nicely in a sleek, dark suit than his typical tan trench coat. He still wears those odd bandages all over his body, but you suppose that’s just a him thing, and no fancy event would get him to take them off. You can’t quite place what the exact difference is but you find that your gaze keeps dragging back to him. 

He catches you staring and winks, you roll your eyes and look away, grateful that your embarrassment doesn’t show on your face as you glance one last time at yourself in the mirror to ensure that nothing is out of place

Dazai, you have learned over the past two weeks, can’t stand silence, so you aren’t surprised when you hear him start complaining about something else as soon as the conversation dies down. 

“Did you know I pushed two of my little protégés to work with each other?” he asks, reaching out to grab the papers on your coffee table when he thinks you aren’t looking. You throw one of your makeup brushes at him. He yelps and draws back his hand.

“That’s nice,” you say absently. “Do they work together well?” 

“Oh, they work together great,” Dazai says, and you glance back at him when you notice the sheer bitterness in his tone. “I think they love each other now.”

Your brows furrow, unsure of why Dazai seems so irritated by this. “That’s… great, isn’t it?” you asked slowly.

“No!” Dazai says so vehemently that you think he might leap to his feet in outrage. “That is not great. They are not allowed to be in a relationship before me. I forbid it.”

Your lips part a bit, a noise caught between a laugh and shock escaping them as you look over at Dazai again. “Okay,” you say, dragging out the word in amusement. Dazai shoots an affronted expression toward you in response, but you don’t give him the chance to speak again. You rise to your feet and swing your purse over your shoulder, glancing at the time, realizing you had about fifteen minutes to be at the City Hall, which is a forty minute drive without traffic and it’s a Saturday evening, so there’s always traffic. 

“Oh god, we have to-”

You turn to leave only to bump right into Dazai. Blinking in confusion, you look up at him to ask what he’s doing but the words die on your tongue.

He’s too close as he looks down at you, you can smell the faint scent of his cologne and you can feel his body brushing yours, the corner of his lips twitching up. “Have I earned a kiss yet?” he hums, leaning his face down a bit so that his lips are almost barely grazing yours. 

“Maybe,” you say, eyes flickering down to his lips for the sparest second before you watch his eyes light up only for you to take a step back, “but even if you did, you’re not messing up my makeup.”

Dazai looks as if he’d been shot in the heart, head dropping back as he groans and pouts at your words. “You’re so mean, bella,” he sighs, voice a long whine. “Won’t you indulge me with just a taste?”

“No,” you say, slipping past him to make your way over to the door where the keys to your car are hanging on a small hook. “Are you ready? We’re going to be late.”

The exaggerated grief that paints Dazai’s expression instantly disappears as he eyes your keys with a look that’s nothing short of devious. Distantly, you frown and close your fist around your keys, putting them out of his sight, but Dazai is undeterred, walking over to you.

“I can drive us,” he says, that same expression on his face as he holds his hand out. You don’t trust the look on his face, nor do you trust the way he’s all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’s the least I can do, right?” 

You’re doubtful, looking down at his extended hand as he waits for you to drop the keys in them. “I can drive,” you say, but Dazai immediately pouts at your words, looking genuinely bummed out, and you feel a little bad because you don’t even like driving, you just don’t trust Dazai to be a good driver. You hesitate. “Do you even know how to drive?”

“Of course,” Dazai says hurriedly, dark eyes lighting back up.

You exhale, reaching out to place your keys in his hand—the smile on his face is wicked, dread builds in your gut. You think you might have made a mistake.

You’re surprised that your car is still in one piece as Dazai parks crookedly across three spots in the parking lot of the city hall. You’re surprised that you are in one piece. You don’t move for a second, fingers still biting into the leather seat you’re buckled in, eyes wide and barely breathing. As Dazai turns the car off, you finally turn your head to the side to look at him before getting out of the car, grateful to be standing on solid ground.

“Never again.”

Dazai’s unbothered, as always—his smile is wide and restless, eyes exhilarated as they dart around the car, fingers clutching the keys as he finally steps outside. He looks as if he’d just won the lottery, that gleeful over having been given the chance to drive. You knew you should have gone with your gut when the man first asked if he could drive, and as miserable and anxiety-inducing it was racing through the streets, in between cars and half on the sidewalk, you think it might’ve been worth it, a bit, considering Dazai’s reaction.

“Maybe once more,” Dazai bargains, holding out his arm to you.

“Never again,” you repeat, but your voice is light as you take his arm and let him lead you up the steps to the city hall. “I cannot believe you didn’t get us pulled over.”

“Must not have been that bad then,” Dazai says, proudly. 

“Ha! More like they didn’t want to risk their own lives trying to stop you.”

Dazai pouts terribly and then adds petulantly, “But it was fun.”

“It was something alright,” you agree idly. You aren’t sure if you were having fun in the moment, you were more scared for your life and your car, but you suppose looking back on it was a bit entertaining. 

“You’re so mean, bella,” he sighs exaggeratedly. “You refuse my well-earned kiss, you mock me, now you insult my driving skills.”

“The only thing insulted tonight was my car,” you mutter to yourself, glancing back once more at it before Dazai steps forward to push open the wide doors to the city hall. 

Instantly, you’re met with the sound of loud chatter and laughter and a young, unfamiliar voice calling, “Dazai-san!” excitedly. 

Your gaze drifts up from Dazai to where a teen with silver hair and pretty eyes rushes up to the two of you. He’s so tunnel visioned on Dazai that he doesn’t even notice you until he’s standing right in front of you, and when he does, his eyes go so wide that you think they might pop right out of his skull. He looks between you and Dazai questioningly, lips parting and closing like a fish out of water.

Dazai looks like the cat that got the canary, eyes gleaming at the expression on Atsushi’s face and lips twitching up into a wicked smile. 

“Atsushi-kuuuuun,” he drags out the boy's name in a long sing-song. “Meet my sweet belladonna, the one you so rudely claim didn’t exist.”

Atsushi looks flustered as he turns his attention toward you, eyes wide with panic and redness rising to his cheeks. “I didn’t-I mean-I just-” he stutters so badly that you’re forced to take mercy on the poor boy.

“Don’t worry,” you say with an easy grin. “I wouldn’t believe I existed either coming from Dazai.”

Dazai gapes. Atsushi snickers, hand coming up to cover his mouth to hide his smile. Atsushi glances once at Dazai and then looks back at you and whispers, “Is he paying you?”

Dazai looks thoroughly offended.

“Unfortunately, he doesn't need to,” you say with a snort, "but I'm sure he would if he had to."

Dazai gasps. 

Atsushi snorts loudly and then looks a bit embarrassed. A woman with pretty eyes and short dark hair comes up behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. She throws a sharp grin at you. “You must be the infamous woman that Dazai has been talking about nonstop for two weeks,” she says, ignoring how Dazai looks like he wants to wither as you raise your eyebrows at him. “Blink twice if you need help.”

Dazai looks appalled now. “Yosano-sensei,” he complains, “That’s so-”

You pointedly blink twice. Yosano barks out a laugh and nearly chokes over it, Dazai gasps again, louder and far more dismayed. He slumps over your shoulder, burying his face into the top of your head. 

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he grumbles, voice muffled against your hair. 

You pat his waist as another man approaches the group of you, blonde hair tied back neatly in a ponytail and glasses hanging on the edge of his nose. His eyes are sharp and narrowed as he looks at where Dazai is draping himself all over you. “Oi, you shitty waste of bandages, have some decorum, would you? We're at a government event, stop throwing yourself at people.”

Dazai perks up, that unscrupulous smile instantly returning as his gaze focuses on the blonde. “Kunikida-kuuun,” he now sings the other man’s name, arm slipping around your waist to tug you into his side as he says. “Come meet my date. She’s a grad student at Waseda University.”

You have a distinct feeling that he’s rubbing it in Kunikida’s face, and from the way the man’s expression twists in genuine surprise at Dazai’s words, you figure that said feeling is correct. Kunikida turns his attention toward you. “And you’re with him?” he asks so distastefully that you almost laugh. “How did you even meet him?”

You give Dazai a side-eye, considering whether or not you should tell the truth. You notice the pleading expression on his face and squint, but before you can make your decision, he speaks up, voice loud and exaggerated: “A fateful encounter under the moonlit shore of the Zushi Beach, we stumbled into each other as if guided by the hand of god himself. I-”

Suspicious now of the sideways explanation he’s giving about your own meeting with him, and recalling the tale he regaled you of his meeting with the very boy standing a few feet away from you, you cut off Dazai and turn to Atsushi. “Atsushi-kun, how did you and Dazai meet?”

Dazai flounders, hands flying in front of as if to wave Atsushi off from answering, but Atsushi only scowls and says, “I had to jump into the Tsurumi River to free him from where he was floating upside down in a barrel trying to drown himself. Then he had the nerve to yell at me for it.”

Pointedly, you look at Dazai, who at least has the decency to look sheepish as he glances at you. “I did take him out to dinner after though,” he offers.

“With my money,” Kunikida rages loudly and Dazai throws his head back with a loud sigh of complaint. 

“None of you have my back. Not a single one of you,” Dazai accuses. “I would be a good wingman for you guys.”

Kunikida looks downright insulted. “You are the opposite of a wingman,” he spits. “In fact, you go out of your way to embarrass me in front of women, you lousy liar-”

“I will not have you make me look bad because you’re jealous any longer,” Dazai proclaims, holding his hand up as if to silence Kunikida. 

“Jealous?” Kunikida booms after Dazai, but Dazai is already dragging you away, stealing two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one over to you with a misleadingly innocent smile. 

“It’s true, he’s jealous,” Dazai says, lacing his fingers into yours as he idly walks around the event hall with you, sipping at his champagne. “He has fifty-eight criteria for his ideal woman, you fit at least forty of them. He’s probably soooo mad you’re here with me.”

You blink and look at Dazai, wondering if you heard him correctly. “I’m sorry, what?” you ask with a laugh. “Fifty-eight-”

“Criteria, yeah,” Dazai confirms, “and he wonders why he can’t get a girlfriend—blames it on me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m sure you don’t help.”

Dazai pouts but then his amusement fades a bit as his eyes scan the crowd of people, dark eyes taking upon an uncharacteristically serious visage. His lips tighten and the corner of his eyes wrinkle as he squints, as if something about the whole event is bothering him.

“You okay?” you ask and Dazai looks at you, a bit startled.

“Yeah,” he says, and you watch as he smooths his face out—as if you’d seen something you weren’t supposed to see and now he was trying to play it off and pretend you didn’t. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

You’ve noticed over the past two weeks, as you’ve gotten to know Dazai Osamu a bit better, that he’s far more complex than he likes to portray himself to be. He puts on a theatrical show with bright smiles, loud words and over-exaggerated clownlike behavior, and he’s very good at making sure that the mask he puts on rarely wavers. You’ve only caught it faltering a few times, including that first time you met when you’d woken up in the middle of the night and caught his empty expression as he stared out into the storm. 

He doesn’t take well to people pointing it out though, you’ve realized. You tried to once a week ago when you caught him looking a bit lost and alone at a picture you had of you and two of your friends at a bar downtown. He’d broken into your apartment, as you’ve grown unfortunately used to over the past two weeks, and he was waiting for you to get back from class, snooping around while he waited. You weren’t supposed to be back until much later but your five o’clock class had been canceled, and he was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard you enter your apartment until you were a few feet away and asking if he was okay. 

He promptly fled with a half-assed excuse about an urgent mission and he didn’t come back to your apartment for two days. When he finally did, he acted like nothing happened. You think that it’s not really your right to push and you don’t want to step over any boundary of his, but a part of you is starting to long to figure out what exactly is behind the mask he wears and that scares you. You find yourself smiling a bit too much whenever Dazai is around, your face always feels a bit hotter and your brain always feels a bit fuzzy—the tell-tale signs of falling are starting to appear and you want to know the man behind the carefully constructed mask before you start to fall only to realize that there’s no one there to catch you. 

“You looked a bit lost in thought,” you finally say, testing the words on your tongue and scanning his face to see if even that would be too much of a push for him. 

It is.

“You see right through me, don’t you?” He laughs it off as a joke, but you can all but taste the bitterness in his tone and you can see the mirth thinly veiled behind his eyes. “I’ll be right back, the boss is calling me over.”

Dazai doesn’t wait for you to respond, he tosses you a wink and another casual smile before he sets off across the room but you aren’t fooled by the faux-charm this time, knowing that he’s fleeing because you got a bit too close to asking something that he doesn’t want to answer. Lifting your champagne glass back to your lips, you idly watch him make his way over to a handsome, silver-haired man who’s in deep discussion with a young man with messy black hair. 

You sigh and wave over a server to grab another flute of champagne before you even finish the one in hand, disappointment sweeping through you as you realize that the night is likely going to be a very, very long one.

You’re finishing your fourth glass when you hear someone call your last name and pause a bit in confusion, turning around to face a tall middle-aged man with graying hair. Your eyes widen a bit as you recognize Tonan Tanzo, the Vice Minister of Justice, making his way toward you with a glass of wine in hand. 

“Tonan-san,” you greet, nodding your head a bit in respect for the older man, who you spoke to briefly at the Ministry’s panel at your university a week and a half ago. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you,” the man replies distantly, more a nicety than anything else. “I must say, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. You’re acquainted with the Armed Detective Agency?” 

There’s an edge to his voice, one that you’re not sure if you like. You wonder if he has an issue with the Agency, but you don’t see why he would, they’ve been nothing but helpful in fostering peace in the city.

You only smile idly. “Vaguely,” you respond, not giving away all too much. You wonder if Dazai knows anything about whatever the man’s issue is—you’d have to ask him later. 

Tonan hums, as if your answer wasn’t satisfactory, and then he says, “I was meaning to email you about the internship you were hoping for under Minister Hasegawa—all of the chaos of the past week has prevented me from doing so. I’ll be sure to do so by the end of this week so we can work to finalize something for winter break and the summer. Perhaps we can figure something out with your schedule to get you some training at the office before the semester ends.”

Your lips part a bit in shock at the suddenness of the offer but you school your expression quickly, mind racing as you force out, “I would appreciate that very much, Tonan-san. I’m sure we can work something out.”

Tonan Tanzo only hums again, nodding at you once before his eyes flicker up above you, a bit distastefully, just as you feel fingers brush your lower back. Tonan doesn’t even bother to greet Dazai as he turns to leave with a faint parting to you. You look up at Dazai, whose expression is cold as he stares after Tonan until the man disappears down a nearby hall. 

“What was that about?” Dazai asks, the cold expression melting as soon as he looks down at you, dark eyes warm and curious as if he hadn’t just abandoned you for almost an hour. You almost feel a bit flustered beneath the gentle stare. Almost. 

“I think he just offered me the job I was trying to get at the Ministry?” you say, still a bit dazed. “Although, I don’t think it’s necessarily because he wants me there, but it doesn’t really matter, I just need it for my resume.”

“Hm,” Dazai says to himself before his lips flicker up into a smile. “Well, congratulations are in order, I suppose. Good thing I grabbed us some more champagne.”

He lifts his other hand pointedly, showing off the two flutes he’d grabbed on the way back and you grin a bit, taking one from him, feeling a bit giddy now even though you’re pretty sure Tonan only hit you with the offer because of your affiliation with the Armed Detective Agency. 

“You should probably slow down,” you note as you sip your own glass. “You’re on like seven now.”

“I’m fine, and you have no room to talk,” Dazai shoots you a playful smile. “Dance with me.”

“What?” you ask, eyes widening as Dazai takes the glass from you before you even take a second sip, placing it down on a nearby table with his as he grabs your arm and drags you to the center of the room, onto a dancefloor that nobody is using. “Dazai, no.”

“Dazai, yes,” he corrects with a wild grin and your face is aflame as eyes begin to turn in the direction of the two of you, curious as to what’s going on. 

You want to die when Dazai forcibly spins you under his arm, much like that night out on the streets of Yokohama when the two of you ended up drenched and muddy except now there were dozens of eyes on you whereas then, people were more focused on trying to get to cover from the torrential downpour.

“I’m going to kill you,” you hiss, embarrassment flooding through you because for as thin as Dazai is, he’s deceptively strong and you cannot break free of the grip he has on your hand and waist. 

“Please,” he breathes out longingly. “A death at your hands would-”

“Stop.”

Dazai pouts, and then as if punishment for interrupting him, Dazai launches you into a dramatic dip, leaning down with a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat’s to shame as he nudges his nose against yours before pulling you back up and spinning you beneath his arm again. 

“This is embarrassing,” you say, but Dazai is paying no mind to the attention that the two of you are gaining—in fact, he looks utterly pleased with himself. “I-”

“Look! Yosano-sensei and Atsushi-kun are joining us!” Dazai cheers, turning the two of you just enough so that you can catch sight of Yosano physically dragging a protesting Atsushi out onto the near-empty dance floor.

“Yosano-sensei, please, I’ve never danced before,” Atsushi pleads, tugging his wrist away from the older woman but her grip is iron clad as she tugs the boy toward her, taking the lead in a wide ballroom dance.

“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai sings. “Don’t look so nervous.” 

Atsushi shoots Dazai a withering look, clearly blaming him for the unfortunate turn of events, and you relax a bit as you realize that Yosano pulling Atsushi onto the dance floor triggered a wave of several others: a dark-haired girl dragging an orange-haired boy onto the floor, the president of the Agency holding a hand out to a young girl who keeps shooting longing looks in the direction of the people dancing, a few older couples.

“See, everyone was just too nervous to be the first,” Dazai preens, tugging you close as he shifts from a wide and theatrical ballroom dance to a slower and more intimate one.

Your breath catches as he wraps an arm around your waist, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your lower back as his hand flattens. His other hand slips from where it’s intertwined with your to join his right on your waist. You’re so close to him that you can smell the faint scent of champagne on his breath as you loop your arms around his neck with a small smile. 

Dazai’s dark eyes are glittering as he looks down at you, warm as melted honey and soft as velvet, you’re almost entranced. His lips are curved up into a gentle smile—you think you want to kiss him, and you swallow nervously as soon as the thought crosses your mind. You also think he might be able to read your mind, because his smile becomes a bit more mischievous as he leans down. 

He doesn’t kiss you, but you think he might as well from how close he is to you—you swear that his lips are all but brushing yours. You feel a bit dizzy, and although there are enough people swaying and spinning around the two of you that you don’t really have to worry about any attention being on the two of you, you still feel a bit flustered by the thought of so many possibly seeing this. 

“Now, do I get my kiss?” he whispers, and your lips part to respond but no words leave them. You think that’s dangerous because you definitely should not kiss him right now but your brain will not cooperate in formulating the words. Dazai lets out a small puff of laughter, his breath is warm against your lips and you want to kiss him even more—dangerous, you think again. “Fine, fine, I’ll wait just a bit longer.”

He doesn’t back away though and your heart feels like it’s lodged in your throat as he hums along quietly to the music playing, swaying back and forth with you tucked neatly in your arms. You think this is far too intimate for two people who aren’t even technically dating (you won’t admit that you’d been questioning it earlier with how often he frequents your apartment and his casual intimacy with you and felt a bit embarrassed when he made his comment about his proteges being in a relationship before him), and you think you should probably back away, but instead you find your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

There’s something indecipherable in his eyes—conflicted and confused, but with a far heavier emotion thinly veiled behind it, something caught between longing and adoration but with a hint of melancholy. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you figure that now’s not the time and he’ll probably just blow you off in the same way he did before.

So instead, you just give him a small smile and watch as his dark eyes widen a fraction at the action—you wonder if he realized that you noticed that something’s up with him and more importantly, you wonder if you weren’t supposed to notice. With bated breath, you wait to see whether or not he’s going to close off. 

Around the two of you, the President lifts his arm to let the young girl spin beneath it, Atsushi is still letting out panicked protests as he and Yosano sweep across the dancefloor, an older couple laughs loudly as the man dips her and the teenage girl with dark hair is giggling as she takes the lead in the dance with the orange-haired boy. 

Dazai doesn’t react for what feels like an eternity. 

But then he smiles—it’s light and soft around the edges, matching your own, and though that indecipherable look is still in his eyes, maybe even more wistful now, you can’t help but notice that his shoulders feel much less tense beneath your arms.

You consider it a win.

Dazai thinks that he might be in trouble. 

His gaze lingers on you as you make your way across the room in the direction of where Atsushi and Kyouka are talking. Atsushi had waved you over after everyone finally made their way off of the dance floor, Dazai’s a bit insulted because Atsushi and Kyouka both made it abundantly clear that they only wanted you to join them, which Dazai thinks is quite rude but what does he know?

And Dazai’s heart is racing, his cheeks feel warm, his lips are tingling, and he wants to blame it on the alcohol but he knows deep down that the alcohol is not the issue, you are.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The thought rings through his head as he watches you walk away, eyes tracing your figure while an emotion that borders on longing wreaks havoc on his heart. His throat feels clogged with it, his lungs feel as if they’re filled with ash. You make it to Atsushi and Kyouka and Atsushi is immediately talking, animated and excited.

He thinks you look beautiful—you’re wearing a red dress and it clings as if it was made perfectly for you even though he’s pretty sure it’s a dress you’d found on Uniqlo’s clearance racks, he remembers you raving about your luck with it last week, and as you look over your shoulder in his direction, your eyes glitter as brightly as the rhinestones sitting on your collarbone, teeth gleaming as you smile at whatever Atsushi is saying to you. Dazai doesn’t dare to ponder what his protege could possibly be telling you to make you look at him like that, he doubts it’s anything good, but he finds that he doesn’t even really care because he thinks that he’d sacrifice all of his pride and dignity if it means you’d continue to smile like that in his direction.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

It was meant to be a little fun once he realized that you were just a civilian with no connection to the underground—a distraction, a way to gloat a bit to Kunikida because of course Dazai can pull a girl that fits almost every single one of the man’s ideals while Kunikida himself can hardly dream of it. He convinced himself that he was playing a long game by spending every waking second outside of work at your apartment, wooing you so that he could get a kick out of Kunikida’s inevitable explosion. He convinced himself that the fluttering in his chest whenever you laughed at him was just some strange heart palpitations that have arisen as a chronic consequence of one of his attempts, paying no mind to the fact that it only happens when he’s with you. He convinced himself that his face is warm whenever he’s around you because of the weather even when the temperature chills and the wind is bitter. 

But it’s hard to convince himself now—his lips tingle from where they’d just barely been brushing yours, there are goosebumps on his skin where your fingers had once been, and the image of your smile is branded behind his eyelids, the gentleness of it and the understanding. And he thinks it’s ridiculous honestly, because he doesn’t think that there’s anyone left in the world that could possibly understand him, but since that first day he met you, you’ve seemed to be able to see through him in a way that few people have ever been able to, going out of your way to try to make him feel more comfortable in a way that no one ever has.

When did he start to…

He can’t even finish the thought because acknowledging it means that it’s real and if it’s real, then Dazai is in trouble because Dazai is not a man who is capable of love anymore—or maybe he still is capable of love, or something close to it at least, what he feels for the members of the Agency proves that at least, but he’s not a man who’s capable of being loved. 

Not for who he is.

Even if you do fall for the facade he puts up—the smiling jester who laughs and jokes and never lets anyone close enough to realize that the only thing within him is a black hole that consumes anything and everything he touches—you’ll realize one day that the man you fell for is a fraud and you’d leave. Dazai has been left behind once, in a way that was so excruciating that it’d almost entirely killed off Dazai’s withered heart, and he’s decided that he’ll never be the one left behind again. He’ll run before people can leave him, and he’ll keep everyone else at arm’s length. He’s probably wrong anyway; he doesn’t care for you, not like that, the line between obsession and love has always been dangerously blurry for him. He-

“Atsushi’s taken to her pretty fast, don’t you think?” 

Dazai starts at the sudden sound of Yosano coming to stand next to him, a half-empty glass of wine in hand. There’s a lazy smile on her face as she watches where you, Atsushi and Kyouka are all chatting—well, you and Atsushi, mostly, but Kyouka seems enraptured in whatever conversation the two of you are having. 

“Yeah,” Dazai agrees, and his voice is a bit more rough than he meant for it to be. He pointedly takes another long swig of his drink. “That’s a first.”

“Isn’t it?” Yosano laughs loudly, drawing some attention to the pair. “A good sign, he’s got pretty good instincts.”

Yosano nudges his shoulder playfully but Dazai can hardly gather the energy to mask the sudden and unwelcome sorrow weighing on him. He manages, if only scarcely, but it’s unconvincing if the way Yosano’s brows furrowed has anything to say about it. 

He speaks before she can question it in an attempt to distract her from her concerns. “She’s quite the catch, I know. My sweet bella, if only she would join me in a double suicide, I don’t think I could even dream up a better way to go.”

Yosano only waves off his comment, and Dazai knows that she’s right—maybe it’s his tiger senses or maybe it’s just his intuition, but Atsushi usually has a good eye for good people. His lack of reservation around you, when he was even reserved around the Agency at first, is certainly a nice sign, even if it is partly because he’s had a few glasses of champagne. But Dazai also just can’t find it in him to be pleased over it because yeah, it confirms that you’re a good person but Dazai, no matter how hard he tries to be, is not one and he’s not sure if anything will ever change that.

The thickness in his throat returns, his eyes flutter shut momentarily as he tries to regain some semblance of control over himself.

When he opens his eyes again, his gaze instinctively is drawn back toward you and-

Oh, Dazai thinks, his breath catching and lips instinctively turning up as he watches you start to giggle and lean into Kyouka, who must have finally joined the conversation, while looking over at him. There’s a hazy look in your eyes, courtesy of the constant stream of champagne Dazai has been supplying you with all night, but you can’t seem to draw your eyes off of Dazai and Dazai can’t seem to draw his from you. 

Yosano nudges his shoulder again to try to get his attention but Dazai can’t look away from you so he hums as if to tell her that she has his attention—if only partly. 

“Enjoy it, Dazai,” Yosano says quietly and Dazai finally glances over to her, catching the oddly coherent look in what should’ve been drunken, glazed over eyes. “Don’t sabotage this for yourself. Enjoy it.” 

Dazai thinks maybe he was wrong about you being one of few to be able to see right through him. Maybe he’s not as subtle as he thinks he is—or maybe it’s just his shared connection to Yosano through Mori that has her able to read him so easily. He avoids Yosano’s gaze as he looks back out into the crowds. Naturally, he finds himself seeking you out again, and you’re already looking at him. There’s a soft expression on your face as you admire him, not having realized he’d caught you staring yet, and you look as if you’re barely listening to what Atsushi is saying, and Dazai’s heart seizes because no one has ever looked at him that way before.

Well, he decides, maybe Yosano is right. He might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Once you realize that the front he shows you is just a mask to hide the rotting carcass that lies beneath, you’ll turn tail and run, and then everything can go back to normal again. He just can’t let himself get more attached than he already is—that way it won’t hurt when you leave.

Dazai catches his lips turning up as he watches you start giggling at something Atsushi and Kyouka say, Dazai’s heart does that damning flutter again, and immediately, he averts his gaze.

Still, he thinks, he’s far too sober for this. 

Later in the night, when people have begun to say their goodbyes and you start to make your way to the restrooms to freshen up before heading out, Dazai corners you against the wall of the hall leading out of the event venue. You don’t even hear him following you or notice his presence until you feel his fingers snatch your wrist as he yanks you back toward him. 

Your eyes widen but you’re able to bite back the yelp that nearly escapes your lips when you recognize his dark eyes looking down at you, mischievous and glittering beneath the soft lights. 

“Do I get my kiss now?” Dazai breathes out. The wall behind you is cool against your back, and you can hear the chatter from the event down the hall as the event begins to come to an end. You part your lips to respond to him, with what? You aren’t entirely sure, but it doesn’t seem to matter because no words leave your lips regardless. “The party’s over, no need to worry about messing up that pretty makeup now, bella.”

“Only one,” you finally say, voice a bit more throaty than you would have liked but it’s hard to concentrate with Dazai’s fingers grazing your hips and his body brushing yours. You wonder if the man has ever learned about the concept of personal space—you severely doubt it. “Make it good, and maybe you can have a second.”

The smile on Dazai’s lips is nothing short of sinful as he brings one hand up to cup the side of your neck, thumb running along your jawline and fingers entangling with your hair. He doesn’t waste a second as he dips his head down to press his lips against yours, they’re warm and soft, and taste distinctly like the champagne that had been served earlier in the night. You let out a quiet noise of surprise against his lips, eyes fluttering shut. 

The kiss is tamer than you expected it to be—he makes no move to deepen it, lips moving slowly and gently against yours as if he’s hesitant to take it any further, but Dazai Osamu has never been hesitant about anything in all of the times you've encountered him. Your hands rest on his forearms as he keeps you pressed up against the wall, unconcerned with the fact that all of his coworkers and many government officials are naught but half a hallway away. 

You think to yourself, a bit embarrassed, that you might be able to spend an eternity kissing Dazai Osamu and never grow tired of it, and you wonder why it's taken you so long just to give in to his request from nearly a month ago.

You aren’t sure if ten seconds, ten minutes or ten hours have passed by the time he finally separates his lips from yours. He doesn’t move far away at all—his nose still nudging yours, his soft lips still brushing your own, he leaves no space at all between the two of you as he asks: “Good enough for a second?”

Your lips curve up into a smile, eyes meeting his dark ones as you look up at him through your lashes. Though, you have half a mind to agree, your previous thoughts still ringing through your head, you can't help the teasing words that spilled from your lips: “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll sleep on it and let you know my answer the next time we see each other.”

The laugh that Dazai lets out is breathless. 

“Deal.”

[sunshineandspencer]

Cowboy hat rule, Part 4 (Tyler Owens, Twisters)

A/N: Let’s put it this way, I don’t remember writing this. But it certainly exists so you may have it, I want to rewatch this movie completely legally🏴‍☠️, but I’m not at home and I can’t. Physically weeping as I type this.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader.

Summary: In between butting heads with Javi’s team and running a successful YouTube channel based entirely around tornadoes, Tyler Owens is introduced to the most interesting woman he’s seen in a good while - and her sister.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: kind of suggestive (honestly not sure, it’s pretty late and my brain doesn’t work), minor swearing, I’m beginning to forget the movie so forgive me, very limited knowledge of America (I’m English).

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

I have redone the form for the taglist now that I’m apparently expanding from Criminal Minds

A rodeo, he brought her to a rodeo. 

And not just any rodeo, but one in the middle of tornado valley. For the amount of tornadoes this place gets, there are a lot of people here. It makes her nervous. 

Thankfully, there are idiots on horses to keep her entertained, and reminiscing about her childhood. 

At some point, Tyler leaned over. Pressing his shoulder to hers and ducking his head so she could hear him. His breath just ghosting her ear. 

“Not your first rodeo?”

“Not even close.”

Her eyes flicked to his, grinning up at him. He’s certain the sight of her smiling at him is going to be seared in his brain forever. 

Especially when she shuffled closer, so that she could be heard. Their thighs pressed together nearly as close as their shoulders. He could smell the faint traces of her perfume, he wishes she’d put some on before they’d left.

“Daddy used to compete in rodeos, up until we were eleven. He had an accident, and mom told him that if he ever did it again it wouldn’t be the bulls he had to worry about.”

He loves her mom, right now she’s the greatest woman in the world. Besides the pretty woman that she created, sat pressed against him. 

Her eyes went back to the rodeo, but his didn’t, watching her profile and wondering how he got so.. smitten.

Nudging her with his shoulder, he gave that bright grin - a real, happy grin that people are accustomed to. 

“I’m learning all sorts about you Alpine.”

“That you are, and yet you remain an enigma.”

“Aww, you don’t have to go about using all kinds of fancy words, you can just call me pretty.”

They both laughed at that, hushed and slightly giggled. Like a pair of schoolchildren mucking about in assembly and didn’t want to get caught. 

Leaning into each other, wondering why everything feels so much funnier when they’re together. 

But then she nudged him, telling him to actually tell her something about himself.

“I used to compete too, got stomped in the head a little too much and figured college would do me a little better.” He fidgeted with his watch, fitting it properly to his wrist. “I don’t mean to pry, but since we’re in a sharing mood, what’s up with Kate and Javi?”

She gave a long suffering sigh, and he realised he might’ve just hit a sensitive subject. But before he can tell her not to worry about it, she’s smiling at him. 

She’d leant away now, and he doesn’t like it, leaning with her arms on the back of the seats, her legs crossed and no longer against his. 

Is it selfish? To want her close again? Because he can be selfish if that’s what it takes. 

“He’s always had a thing for her. We used to work together, a group of us. Me and Javi were dating, Kate had her boyfriend, but I knew he loved her. I looked a lot more like her then.. I was a replacement but that was fine because at least I could pretend I was loved.”

Giving Tyler a soft smile, she realised that was probably a little more than he bargained for. 

Not knowing that he was currently cycling through all the ways he could murder the guy and shove him into a tornado to make it look like an accident. 

He could do it, it’s not hard to shove a dead body into a tornado when you drive into them for a living.

“Maybe he’ll finally get his head out his ass and ask her out. I doubt it though, he’s terrified of rejection.”

Tyler nodded, eyebrows furrowed, and then leant back with her. Arms going around the back of the chairs, fingers dusting her shoulder. 

Somehow, even that small touch was enough for her body to become instantly aware of the lingering heat from when they’d been pressed together. 

Then he gave her another one of those smiles, and she could’ve melted straight through the plastic. 

“If you want, I could run him over and send him up into a tornado. Let God and the weather do their things.”

She laughed - thank God she laughed - and he’s certain that he’s found something more beautiful than any tornado he’d ever chased in his entire life. 

And when she calmed down to look at him, smile still playing at those pretty kissable lips, her hands swatted out against his chest. 

“Don’t make it sound like you murder people so often, I have to get back in the truck with you.”

“Ahh, don’t worry about that Alpine. You’re too pretty to murder, can’t have the world bereft of that face now can we?”

Before she can answer, a swirl of leaves assault the audience, including them. Leaves that, really, were too violent to have just been caught up in a gust of wind. 

Picking one up, she crumpled the leaves and then opened her palm. The way they spread out left her nervous. 

“Were you tracking out this way?”

Looking to him nervously, she didn’t like that look on his face. Because they had been, but from the data, even Kate said the one out this way shouldn’t form anything too bad. 

Maybe the conditions for the tornado improved, because it definitely seems like something had touched down. By the way the bleachers are rattling. 

He didn’t answer either, just looking around at all the people here, calculating the tragedies if something did set down. 

But it hadn’t, or else they would’ve gotten—

All at the same time the tornado warnings sounded on their phones, and everyone began to panic, including her. 

Snapped out of it by Tyler taking her hand and getting her up. Pulling her through the crowd. 

“Come on, we need to find shelter!”

It’s hard to hear over the wind, and when she heard shit start flying off behind them, her blood felt sharp in her veins and she kept up the pace next to him. 

Glad he’s got her hand in his or she’s not sure how fast she could run. 

“I don’t- I don’t go into tornadoes, I do the data. I don’t go into the fucking things! I’m not you, I’m not used to this.”

He pulled her to a stop just inside a motel parking area, thankfully covered for now. Grabbing her shoulders and looking at her sincerely, realising that she really was scared. 

He knew she stayed back, he didn’t know why, but the genuine terror on her face said enough. 

“You’ll be alright, I promise. I won’t let you get hurt by this thing. But we need to get to shelter, okay?”

As he started pulling her along, all the noise rushed back to her and made her feel sick. Aware of the crashes and the screams, and the drag of metal on metal as the motel threatened to break apart. 

A woman was trying to get her daughter into the car, and she dragged Tyler to a stop. 

“No! No, don’t get in your car!! Get out, come here!”

They did, thank God, and joined them in the motel. Shoving past the idiot at the desk who clearly doesn’t know what’s going on. 

Everyone talking all over each other about basements or shelters. 

She was going a little haywire, and caught onto the crash of a metal gate swinging back and forth. The pool. It’s emptied and the wall would’ve been opened for maintenance. 

There’d be an alcove for them to huddle in and hopefully things to hold onto. 

Grabbing Tyler’s arm and shouting over everyone else. 

“Come on! We haven’t got time to argue, follow me!”

Shouldering open the door, she knew the woman and her child were close behind. As well as the clerk, while Tyler was trying to convince the two idiots that there was actually a tornado. 

Helping the woman into the pool, both her and her daughter were sobbing, not that she blamed them. It’s a miracle that she isn’t. 

Once the little girl was safely in her mom’s arms, she motioned for them to get to the end of the pool. 

Turning around to look for Tyler, she felt his hands on her waist from behind, easing her quickly towards the ladder to get into the pool. Allowing herself a moment to breathe. 

Until she caught sight of that couple trying to drive away, getting caught up in the tornado that is way too close for comfort.

Hurrying down, she reached up for Tyler, half wanting him to just jump down, and get to safety as quickly as possible. Pressing a hand to his back to stable him as he dropped down. 

Both of them rush over to alcove with the woman and her daughter. 

Showing them where to hold, and that she should keep her daughter’s eyes covered from any debris. And not to let go or look around for any reason. 

As she started to get a grip on the pipes, she heard a shriek from the motel clerk. He had tried to stand up while Tyler was helping him, and was sent to the shallow end. 

Then the idiot tried again and was dragged off into the sky. Her heart was heavy in her throat as she watched Tyler turn and start to crawl back to them. Fighting against the wind. 

Holding on tight to the pipes, but leaning out with her hand as far as she could go. Desperately reaching for him. 

Especially when a bus or something landed in the pool and started to tip over them. He’d be crushed. 

She’s too panicked to really think about anything other than making sure he grabbed her hand. Because she wasn’t losing anyone else - not him. 

As soon as his palm connected to hers, she pulled hard, to give him that small bit of leverage he needed right as the bus fell. 

He pressed up behind her, keeping both her, and the woman pinned to the pipes, holding on as best he could. They got a little more cover from the bus, thankfully, but the wind was still bad. 

With one arm still curled around the pipes, her other reached back to get a handful of his shirt. He was not going anywhere. 

Once it was over, all of them soaked and panting, and pretty injured from projectiles, they finally let go. 

Of the pipes, anyway. She couldn’t let go of his shirt yet, even as his hands found her waist. Digging in, to help her stand and reassure himself they’re still alive. 

Once they’d stood, and stumbled out from around the bus, they walked up to the shallow end to look around. 

The town - the rodeo - had been decimated. 

And with his hands still comfortably on her waist, she eased the grip on his shirt. Finally turning and wrapping her arms around him. Squeezing as tight as she could to try and now reassure herself. 

They’re both alive; they’re both okay. 

He hugged her back just as tightly, and she’s not sure if it’s the adrenaline from surviving, but she never wants to be anywhere but his arms ever again. 

Want more?! Good!

[shaisuki]

Hi there, Shai!!

This idea had been eating my brain for a long time soo Here we goWhat are your thoughts about jjk men who would collar (and maybe even chain) their wife up after they tried to escape / were disobeying?

I'm so sorry for wasting your time over this

I LOVE your work!

Keep it up!!

Byeeee (^-^)/

-Anon

❝𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗗𝗢 𝗜𝗧, 𝗜 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗡𝗢𝗧. ❞

featuring gojo satoru, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, geto suguru

content warnings yandere themes, nonconsensual themes, chains and collars, minor pet play, ankle cuffs, electrocution, degradation, dark content, gaslighting, manipulation.

synopsis yandere jjk men who would use a chain/collar on their darling

GOJO is the least fond of it. finding the contraptions unpleasant to the eyes and it doesn't suit you. you were the esteemed wife of him and you would be treated as royalty like him. princess treatment and all but he could make exceptions when you're particularly disobedient.

a day is enough of you wearing that collar. he knows how humiliated you feel in that contraption and he did feel bad a little when he sees the tears in your eyes. clawing at the leather in such panicked state that you're already begging for him. saying you'll be good and you will never do it again and satoru believes you...

“you wouldn't do it again, my sweet wife?” he coos. cold slender fingers are wrapped around your neck. his nimble fingers unfastening the cold buckle pressing in your skin. blinking the tears away and sniffling, you nod. too eager and distressed that you were willing to do anything just to get the collar removed.

from how gojo sees it and how you were dead scared earlier. he knows you will be good and learned your lesson. it pains him that you can't even speak while you claw the collar in your neck pulling it that it left claw marks in your skin. droplets of blood making its way outside of your skin and he don't want that again to happen.

satoru froze for a second when you come latching at him after the collar was removed. he expected you to come scratching at him. screaming obscenities from how vile he was instead your soft body is molded against his lean one. “i'll be good.” you repeatedly whisper and your dear husband softens at what you have said. “i know you will.” he replies. hugging you back with such tenderness and no matter how bad he felt. it honestly feels rewarding to see you this clingy to him.

the collar wasn't that bad after all.

NANAMI is not the one you could drive with a reason. deeming that is was unsafe for you to go outside and so when the first idea came running in your mind. a second he was fast to chain you up. nothing to the extreme but ankle cuffs that send jolts of electricity the moment you step outside.

he doesn't like the cuffs in your ankles but he isn't that willing to let you go easily. escaping him means disobeying and who would want that for their spouse to do it. you're not the only who's suffering from it, he also does but tells himself that it would be the good for you and him.

nanami pulls the knot in his tie. effectively loosing the fabric and making him breathe in relief. he's finally home and he can't wait just to be with you. when he's about to turn in the living room. he hears it. the soft thump of a hard object repeatedly being smacked against a pillow and then his heart breaks at the sight.

you were frustratedly tugging at the cuffs wrapped around your ankles. silently screaming and in the verge of tears when it won't just break. punching the throw pillows in the couch as your way to vent the anger, of being chained, of not being free.

noticing nanami's presence you immediately wiped the tears pooling in your eyes and avoiding his gaze. hugging yourself and pretends nothing happened.

sighing, nanami kneels in front of you. gently putting your feet in his lap and unlocking the device that made your life miserable than it is. “better now?” he asks and you nod, not bothering to wipe the tear that trickled down your cheek. “it's for the better.” he murmurs and you remained silent. your feet still on his laps while he rubs the sore spots on where the cuffs where wrapped around you. it's a routine for him. take care of his darling wife. pamper them after leaving them for a long time and please them.

it's a small price to pay when you've given him your dues.

TOJI humiliates you like he needs the air. the chains dangling as he pulled it attached to where your collar is buckled. forcing you to look at him with a furious look in your eyes. cute. as you should be akin to a mutt that no amount of yapping could remove the cuteness. whetting the rage growing aside from desire.

“you're a bitch and you know what happen to bitches. they get punished, you ungrateful bitch.” toji scowled. the sharp lines of his body are defined than it was. eyes glimmering with anger. pulling the chains until your face is in his large hand. gripping your soft jaw so tight they might crush under his raw strength.

he got no qualms about treating you like a pet. you earned it. if you weren't such a bitch you wouldn't be collared and pulled like a toy you are. there's no explanations of it and it's the only known way of the sorcerer killer to discipline someone like you. hope you will be learning your lesson after he's done with you or you're back to the leash if you misbehave again.

GETO finds it highly degrading. it's not pleasing for his eyes to see his darling all chained up or somehow collared. punishments are served by isolating you to others or simply reprimanding you. knowing how affected you are by it and you seem behaved this days. he keeps you grounded and the mere thought of escaping are shut. you didn't even plan it.

he's a man of control and is confident in his skills that he won't let you out of his grasps and when you really wanted to be punished bad. expect he had the stuff, tucked away in a hidden corner that you won't even think he possessed. imagine you really messed up bad and you're wrists are chaffed from the materials rubbing in your skin.

the thoughts of escaping/disobeying is something you shouldn't even think of. you won't like the results.

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10. - Chapter 11. - Chapter 12

Chapter 13. - Chapter 14. - Chapter 15

Chapter 16. - Chapter 17.

Word Count: 1521

Chapter 17:

The lyrics left Agatha's lips smoothly, her good voice once again echoing across the room.

I have learned the lesson

Of all that's foul and fair

Our love was forged in Fire

Water, Earth, and Air

The spell is cast how long it lasts

I can not divine...

While other times you would let her voice enchant and put you in some sort of trance, this time you fought it.

Your fingers moved across the strings on their own, though more than once you dared to glance at them to ensure you were focusing on the right notes.

Who knew what would happen if you played a note wrong.

As the song continued and Agatha sang louder, you all joined her; once again backing her up like the first time you summoned the Road.

Yet despite the singing, everyone was on edge. Not only were they trying to see if they could spot this curse but also because of the raging fire that seemed to have started out of nowhere.

It spread almost all around and it was threatening to break your concentration, only for Agatha to snap and remind everyone to keep playing; the fire a clear sign that the curse was being harmed.

Close to the end, as Alice was getting carried away by the music; she dared to look up.

"The curse. I see it. I can see it." She exclaimed, and then something clicked in her mind. "I can kill it."

Your head snapped her way. "Then do it!" You barked at her, trying to be heard above the sound of music as the song was slowly coming to an end.

Wherever it may bend

I'll see you at the end

I'll see you at the end

I'll see you at the end

I'll see you at the end

I'll see you at the end

The last few lyrics came louder and louder, passion and need guiding the invincible magic emitted from all of you.

The loudest of all was Alice, now more determined than ever to defeat this curse for good; take revenge for her mother and every woman in her family that suffered because of it.

By the last lyric, Alice had spread her hands as flames seemed to erupt on and even behind her; giving quite a spectacle to all of you.

Once done, everyone exchanged looks; wondering if this was it or there was something more.

You did not feel the dark energy of the curse in the room, and something was telling you that you had been successful with this trial as well.

Your confirmation came as the metronome stopped ticking and he piano lid opened on its own, showing everyone a ladder and your way out.

"We did it!" Alice exclaimed, feeling lighter and stronger now that she had defeated the curse.

A smile formed on your lips and you looked at Agatha, who tried to hide her smile; though the relief was evident in her blue ones.

You had done it, you had finished one more trial and you were one step closer in reaching the end.

However, the good mood did not remain for something unexpected happened.

In the very next seconds, Teen collapsed on the ground; shocking everyone as you all rushed to check on him, worrying for the worst.

"Teen!" Alice exclaimed. "What happened?"

Agatha did not hide her worry this time. "What's wrong with him?"

Jen dared to move his coat to the side and her eyes doubled at the sight of a glass piece sticking into his flesh, blood slowlu coming out of it.

"He's bleeding."

You stared at the wound, feeling like an idiot for not spotting it right away. You should have, and yet you didn't, leaving the kid to loyaly play the guitar with you while fighting his injury.

"We've got to get him out of here." You ordered, and everyone nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Working together, you all helpd carry the unconscious and injured boy out; before laying him on a big flat stone that had been conveniently appeared for you.

You were back in the woods, your clothes changed to normal but that was the least of your worries.

Your priority was to save Teen, though almost no one knew what to do. Jen made the mistake of pulling the glass piece out, only for the wound to get worse.

"There's so much blood." Agatha exclaimed, passing her hands through her thick hair while trying not to panic

Jen tried to put pressure on the wound, do her best to help stop the bleeding. "I got it." She snapped back.

It was not enough for Agatha. "What else can we do? What else can we do?"

Lilia looked at the boy and then at her. "He's young. He's strong..."

"Don't!" Agatha exclaimed, pointing a finger at the older woman. However, her expression did not remain cold for long as worry took over. "Don't." Her voice cracked.

You had never seen her that way, so vulnerable and open... it brought pain to your heart but also made you wonder what was the true connection between her and the boy.

To react such way... you felt there was more behind it, or you fear she was reacting due to her past trauma with her son; Nicholas.

The wound kept bleeding, and not even Jen could help, not without her magic. Fearing for the worst, Agatha turned to you.

"Please" she begged, using a tone you swore you would never hear before. "Please, save him" she continued, fully aware you could do something; he coven's last chance in saving him.

"Agatha -" You tried to stop her, for she seemed to have forgotten how you did not directly interfere with such things.

She did not let you continue as she moved to grab both your hands into hers. She looked deep into your eyes, doing her best to remain in control.

"I trust you. You can do this. Please... save him..." she begged once again, making it impossible for you to argue.

A lump formed at the back of your throat, and in the end, you nodded. "Okay," you sighed, and she let you go before taking a few steps back.

You turned to the other witches and walked closer to the flat stone, eyeing the bleeding wound and the unconscious boy. His skin was paler than before, and you swore he did not have much time to live unless you did something.

Ignoring the stares of the other women, you losesned your tie. In the process, your three phased moon necklace was drawn from its hidden place beneath your swirt; earning a silent gasp from Lilia, who noticed it first.

Next, your sleeves were pulled up all the way to your elbow; making visible a faint birth mark on the inside of your wrist; the same symbol of your necklace, forever imprinted on your skin.

You took a few deep breaths as you concentrated, feeling the faint moonlight coming from above. It passed through thick dark branches, forming beams of white light that fell on the small clearing and on you.

Your eyes closed, and you turned your palms to be parallel to the ground and to one another. Your fingers curled faintly as suddenly white magic started to form and gather at the space between your palms.

Jen and Alice gasped faintly when your white magic started to extend, creating thin branches of magical energy that passed next to them; illuminating faintly the dark atmosphere around you all.

Alice even dared to extend a finger, impulsively thinking of touching it, only for Jen to slap her wrist and pull it down; giving her a look.

Your eyes were half open, preventing the others from noticing your white irises as your magic rushed through your veins and your body. Slowly, you brought your hands towards the wound before flipping the palms so both were facing the injury.

You gently touched the wound, feeling the warm sensation of blood tickling your skin but you focused as your magic started to enter the boy's body; cleansing and cleaning his wounds.

Some white branches of it spread around the boy's body, giving him an ethereal look. One single strand reached his face before gently entering his nose.

The very next second, Teen took a deep breath; his chest rising and falling with it. Yet his head fell back in exhaustion and trauma, but he was alive.

You withdrew your bloody hands, allowing everyone to see that the wound was gone; a faint scar was the only reminder that it was once there.

"He should be fine. Just let him rest for a while" you explained as you looked at them, your eyes back to normal as your magic had disappeared; leaving the plain old you standing there.

"Thank you," Agatha muttered in a faint whisper, barely audible to the others.

You offered her a gentle small smile, all you could master at the moment. Seeing hope back in her blue eyes was the reward you did not need but also the reassurance that you had done right; acting and saving the kid.

Chapter 18

[azullumi]

ayato, kazuha, wanderer — mornings with him (2) ☆彡

summary — mornings with him are often filled with nothing but affection and not wanting to leave the bed.

characters — ayato, kazuha, wanderer (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship; scenario

word count — 757

a/n — this is part 2 out of 2! this is the link to the first part!

AYATO

"my love, it's cold." he grumbles, pulling you closer to him to prevent you from leaving and you can't completely escape his grasp when he's holding you so tight. he's acting as if there's no blanket that could warm him up and get rid of the cold but in his own defense, your own warmth beats the blanket's own so deal with it.

"archons, you're too warm." you say, trying to make him let go of you, however, he wouldn't budge. "it's cold."

"ayato."

"i don't want to."

he has you wrapped closely to him with his arms, completely showing how he doesn't want to let go of you. however, you were suffering because of how hot it is and the fact that ayato was holding you so tightly wasn't helping.

"do you not feel the cold?" he asks and you responded immediately, "obviously, i do not."

"well, too bad, i do."

you could already imagine the expression on his face, a smirk tugging on his lips, clearly amused and archons, he should be thankful that you couldn't escape his arms or else he he would have to get out of the bed with a red handprint on his face.

"release me or i will not talk to you the whole morning."

he hums, "bet."

ayato, later on that morning, had to apologize and plead for you to talk to him already.

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

"stay a little bit longer," he reaches out and grabs your wrist, holding onto it as you were about to stand up from the bed. his grip on you wasn't tight and it was easy to just shake it off to make him let go of you but you couldn't find it within yourself to do that.

it was obvious from his voice that he was sleepy and he did not have even the smallest bit of intention of leaving the bed with you until later. however, you have to start moving now or else the morning will start late for you and you'll end up having to chase after tasks that you could have finished right now, at this moment.

"kazuha," you called and he hummed as a response, still not moving from his position, "let go, i need to leave the bed already."

he whines, pulling you closer to him, burying his face on your hair. "just a little bit longer then we can leave."

"i can't do that."

"yes, you can," he replies and you could only sigh. you dragged yourself out ot the bed with kazuha behind you who seemingly didn't mind as long as he still has his hold on you. he has his eyes closed and only relying on you for suport.

you ended up having to go through your whole morning with a sleepy kazuha clinging onto you and following you around.

WANDERER

"come back here." a voice calls out to you, a grumple, clear irritation lacing the tone of it. you turn to look at him, smiling at the sight of his messy hair and sleepy expression. it was a rare thing to see and it was honestly cute though if you're going to say that outloud, he might not like it.

"i have work, kuni." oh, how he adores the way you gently call him by his nickname, the one wherein its only you who is allowed to call him that, though he didn't think much of it and focused on the fact that you were really planning on leaving his side before he wakes up.

"that's not important, go back to sleep." he says, pulling you back to the warmth of the sheets and the comfort of his arms. he has himself positioned behind you, his face hiding at the crook of your neck and you could feel his breath fanning against your skin and his hair tickling you, emitting a chuckle out of you.

"kuni," you say, dragging his name longer out of your tongue, seemingly a warning to which he didn't listen to. he only hummed though and this only ended up tickling you more. noticing your reaction, he peppered kisses on your neck to drive more out of you and it was a success when you were a laughing mess, trying to escape him.

giggles and laughter filled the whole room when he continued to tickle you with his kisses and touch. through broken chuckles, you pleaded to him to stop and let go of you but he didn't listen and only said:

"no, this is your punishment for trying to leave me."

— navigation | masterlist

[shadowdaddies]

Please do the sequel to In Every Lifetime😍😍

welll I know I promised fluff but there's a lil angst first. But here's our happy ending for Azriel x Illyrian Reader💜 (this part is much shorter lol)

In Every Lifetime Pt. II

Azriel x Reader

Part One

Warnings: mentions of torture and death

A sharp pain along your shoulder blades drew you from sleep, eyes fluttering open to a dark room. You startled slightly as you heard the heartbeat beneath your ear, realizing you were not laying on a pillow but someone’s chest.

Looking up, you gasped at the sight of Azriel’s dark curls falling in his sleeping face. Memories came flooding back of your last days, the torture as you lost your wings, the sweet relief when death brought you Azriel. He was with you, in the next life as you had dreamed. But looking around, it was clear that you were in your bedroom in Prythian. Azriel’s hands had the same beautiful scars, your bedroom had the same quilt, the same books on the nightstand. 

In a frantic search of your surroundings, you sat up quickly, the pain in your shoulders turning blinding as you released a scream. Azriel shot awake, hazel eyes wide as he searched you for signs of harm. 

The itching burn along the insides of your wings was unbearable, your eyes watering as you attempted to spread the appendages at your back. Feeling the bones shift beneath your skin, you noticed the weightless feeling at your back. Your center of gravity was off.

One look at Azriel confirmed your worst fears. The image of your wings, shredded on display in front of you flashed in your mind. A scarred hand raised slowly, barely touching your cheek as he nodded, a wordless acknowledgment of what was lost.

A broken sob escaped you, arms reaching desperately towards your back. Jagged, raised scars the only remnants of that piece of your identity taunted you, your throat dry as the fractured whisper eked out of your lips. “My wings, I don’t have my wings.”

Azriel nodded slowly, his thumb brushing your cheek as tears fell down his face. “I know. I felt it,” he whispered.

“What do you mean, you felt it?” you questioned, confusion distracting you slightly from the pain and grief coursing through you. His eyes softened, Azriel sitting up against the headboard as he pulled you to his chest. You followed without question, that fae instinct craving the touch of your mate.

“The bond snapped for me, as you were... taken.” He paused for a long moment, a shudder passing through him as you felt his sorrow through the bond. Eyes widening, you looked to him as you realized. You could feel him, and he you. 

Azriel swallowed thickly. “The first thing I saw when the mating bond snapped was your wing being broken, and you being taken from me. I felt you, reaching out to me. I felt your pain, your fear, everything.”

Your tears were falling on his chest as you laid against him, arms tightening around Azriel as the horrors surfaced in your memories. “I’m so sorry, Azriel. I didn’t know that you felt it. I thought you still didn’t know, about the bond,” you whispered against him.

Azriel stiffened slightly underneath you, his hands wrapping around your waist. “When did you know... that I was your mate?” he asked, tension lacing his tone.

You burrowed your head further into his torso, unable to meet his gaze. “It snapped for me in Hybern. When you rescued Elain.” As if a cold bucket of water was dumped on your head, realization hit. You were laying in bed with a male who was in love with someone else. Furiously, you pushed away, ignoring the dizzying pain as you moved to the cold sheets on the other side of the bed.

You and Azriel searched each other for a moment, confusion on his face and anger on yours. “I watched you give her Truth Teller. I watched you lust after her, the lingering touches, the inside jokes. Don’t tell me that you just left her because you feel guilty? We might be mates, Azriel, but I suffered for months so that you could be happy with whomever you choose. I don’t want your pity.”

Something akin to anger shone in Azriel’s eyes, molten gold swimming in his irises. “I was not with Elain. My heart belonged to you long before I even met her, and it will belong to you forever after.” His voice grew softer, kinder yet somehow more earnest. “I did not think that I could ever be worthy of a love like yours, of a female like you. For years I pined for you, while you saw me as nothing more than a friend. And when you shut me out after the war, I tried to move on. But I will never move on from you.”

Your heart swelled as the tattered bond which had tugged on your heart for months wrapped around it, what once broke you now making you whole. “You love me?”

Azriel moved to your side of the bed, taking your hands in his, gaze locked on you. “I love you. In this lifetime, and every one after.”

A broad smile stretched across your face, Azriel reciprocating in kind. “Let’s start with this one,” you whispered, softly pushing your mate against the bed as you leaned over him, lips brushing as you felt that electrifying warmth you’d heard about.

[frvnkcastles]

hello 👋🏻 how are you? first thank you for everything you write, your blog it's my safe place. 💓

aaand i have a request if you like i was thinking in a frank x reader.

where they have been dating for two years and live together. one night she goes to a nightclub with her friends and a man keeps trying to talk to her, but she quickly manages to dismiss him, until she starts to feel like she's going to pass out and doesn't really understand what's happening so she gets up to go to the bathroom and the same man starts going after her, and she realizes that the guy put drugs in her drink, she starts running and locks herself in the bathroom and calls Frank in a panic and he keeps calming her on the phone until he arrives there and when he arrives he takes her home and takes care of her?

thank you💓

HEAVEN IS WHEREVER YOU ARE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: When you’re harassed at a club, Frank comes to the rescue.

Warnings: Reader is drugged, harassment, feminine nicknames

Word count: 2.2k

Author’s note: I’m doing okay anon, I hope you are too <3 Thank you so much for this idea! I actually had something like this written from years ago, so I just had to revamp it a little and here we go :) I hope you enjoy!

”Anythin’ comes up, you call me, aight?” Frank’s voice was demanding but full of care and love as he looked at you with intent eyes and his hands on your shoulders. As soon as you had told him your friends had invited you out to the local club, he had been all over you, not only appreciating the sight of you in that dress you only brought out for special occasions, but also making sure you would be okay. He had armed you with pepper spray and now, for the third time, insisted that even if he was going out himself, all you had to do was call and he’d drop everything to come and get you.

”I will. I’ll be okay, baby”, you reassured him, cupping his cheek and pressing a quick but sweet kiss in the middle of his mouth, causing him to lick his lips to revel in the taste of your lip gloss.

Reluctantly, he let go of you and you were well on your way. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust you — he was well-aware you could take care of yourself, it was just that he preferred to be the one doing it. You were everything to him and sometimes that manifested in overly protective behavior, but you appreciated him looking after you and knew it was just the way he was built after suffering enough loss. You didn’t fault him for it, if anything, knowing he was always in your corner was exactly why you felt safe going out into the dark night.

The club and your friends were a welcome distraction from the long week at work, and you felt so free and happy just dancing away with a fruity drink in your hand and the beat of the music guiding your hips. You weren’t exactly the best dancer, but you let the song carry you away, not a care in the world as you swayed and swung.

Time passed quickly in the company of your dearest friends, but eventually, your feet began to ache from the constant dancing and you retreated to the bar for another drink by yourself. Parting ways with your friends turned out to be a grave mistake — as soon as you had ordered another cocktail, a man appeared by your side and boldly invaded your personal space.

”Hey gorgeous, buy you a drink?” he asked with a crooked grin, and trying your best not to cringe at his attempt to charm you, you shook your head. Only Frank had the right to call you gorgeous, and you kept that fact locked and loaded if he wasn’t going to take your first hint.

”No, thanks. Already ordered”, you gave him a polite smile while gesturing at the drink delivered by the bartender. You were about to grab the glass and head back to the dance floor to find your friends, but the tall stranger cornered you, and in an instant, your alarm bells went off.

”C’mon, what’s the rush? What’s your name, princess?” he continued, and with a surge of disgust in the pit of your stomach, you shot him a glare.

”None of your business. Besides, I have a boyfriend”, you retorted, gripping the glass as you stood between the people behind you and the man towering over you. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who got rejected a lot, which was enough to let you know it was going to be an ordeal to get rid of him. If only you could catch sight of your friends.

”Well, I don’t see him here. What he don’t know won’t hurt him”, he countered, and with great discomfort pushing on your chest, you tried to sneak away from him. He stopped you, though, a tight hold wrapping around your wrist, and panic started to make way within your veins.

You refused to let him toy with you any longer, and so, you snatched your hand away from him and forcefully pushed through the crowd. Relief flooded you when you got away from him, but it was a short-lived victory, as a bout of dizziness smacked you in the head, and you staggered. Trying your best not to lose your balance, you held your head in one hand and your drink in the other, but it was no easy task, especially when your vision began to blur.

Changing direction, you headed for the bathroom, but as you glanced over your shoulder, you spotted the stranger following you. You hoped it was just your impaired sight playing games with you, but when you stumbled and your drink flew from your hands, you realized he must have slipped something in it. Fear rose in your throat and you picked up the pace, clumsily making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind you, making sure to lock it.

As soon as you felt like you were safe, he started banging on the door and cursing at you. ”Open up, you bitch!” he shouted through the wood, and with your eyes brimming with tears, you shakily dug your phone from your purse. You were scared the door was going to give in, even more scared that you’d pass out from whatever he had drugged you with, but with all the strength you could muster, you did the one thing you knew was a good idea — call Frank.

Your hands trembled as you held your phone up to your ear and waited to hear Frank’s voice, your eyes squeezed shut while you drew in shallow breaths. You leaned against the door, your heart running a million miles as you waited and waited until, finally, he picked up.

”Sweetheart? You there?” Frank’s voice crackled through, and stifling a terrified sob, you ran your fingers through your hair.

”I’m sorry—I know you’re out doing your thing but I’m so scared, I—I lost my friends and some guy started bothering me and I think he put something in my drink—”, you began explaining with your wavering voice, only for a bang on the bathroom door to cut you off, your sharp inhale filling the space where your words hung. Momentarily, you tried to pull yourself together but there was no denying the crack in your voice when you continued. ”I hid in the bathroom. Please hurry”, you whimpered, the fear in your voice evident.

”I’m on my way, baby. Stay on the line, yeah? Can you do that f’me?” he spoke, hoping his steady voice would give you something to hang onto, something to ground you. When you responded, he made an approving noise. ”That’s my girl. I’m leavin’ right now, okay? I’ll be there soon”, he promised, and finding immense hope in his words, you swallowed and wiped your tears away. Your head was spinning and you could feel yourself slipping in and out of awareness, time passing even without you fully acknowledging it.

”You whore!” the stranger yelled through the door, loud enough for Frank to hear through the call, only making him more furious. He was keeping his rage at bay for your sake, knowing that his uncontrolled temper wouldn’t do much to comfort you, but he was seething. The asshole who had done this to you was surely going to pay the price, and Frank was going to enjoy every second of it.

”It’s gonna be alright, sweet girl. Don’t worry, ’m almost there”, Frank swore, growing more concerned when you didn’t respond. You were starting to find it impossible to stand, and so, you wound up sitting on the closed toilet lid, your face buried in one of your hands while the other one tried to balance the phone against your ear.

Soon enough, Frank spotted the neon sign of the club and he swerved to the side of the street, hastily parking before jumping out of the truck. With his blood boiling at the mental image of what he’d find inside, he hung up the phone and stomped into the club with his heavy boots, the sleeves of his shirt already rolled up as he looked for the bathroom.

The banging and shouting alerted him in the right direction, and with his fists aching to punch and hurt and break, he strode straight to the man bothering you from the other side of the door. Clenching his jaw, he yanked the guy away from the door by his shoulder, a cold stare in his dark eyes.

”Get the fuck out”, he spoke calmly, the kind of calm that was far more threatening than any shout ever could have been. His voice was dripping with sheer anger, and yet, the man faced him with an unimpressed look.

”Or what?” he chuckled, and without hesitating to show him exactly what he had signed himself up for, Frank grabbed him by the neck and threw him into the wall hard enough for his nose to crack. The man collapsed on the ground with a cry, gaining some attention from the people around but not enough for anyone to actually care.

”Get out”, Frank repeated with just an inch more effort, and this time, it worked. The man scrambled up to both feet and rushed through the crowd, running away to make sure he wouldn’t end up on the Punisher’s kill list — of course, he had already made it there. As if anyone would get away with hurting Frank’s girl.

When he was left alone, Frank took in a deep breath and leaned against the door. ”Hey. Ya in there, sweetheart?” he questioned quietly, all scariness gone from his soft voice as he glanced at his boots and waited for your answer.

You couldn’t describe the relief you felt when you heard him. For a moment, you couldn’t tell if it was real, your head making it hard to focus on anything, but Frank kept talking, confirming for you that he was right there.

”It’s safe out here. Wanna come out or can I come in?” he continued, patiently waiting for you.

Carefully, you got up from the toilet seat and wobbled to the door, unlocking it and letting Frank in. He peeked in only to find you hugging yourself with puffy eyes and red cheeks, and with a sigh, he stepped inside fully. He was delicate as he reached over to you, brushing a thumb across your face.

”All right? He touch you?” he queried gruffly, fearing your answer, but when you shook your head, he welcomed relief. His deep eyes met yours as he lowered his head to be on your level, and he radiated safety and comfort and warmth, and it was enough for you to break.

You stepped closer and clung onto him in a desperate hug, shaking in his arms. ”Thank you for coming”, you whispered, and with his arms folding around your body tightly, he nodded.

”Of course. You call, I’m there. Always”, he stated simply before kissing the top of your head. You stayed like that for a moment, but finally, he pulled away and took your hand. ”C’mere, let’s go home”, he suggested, undeniably worried by your state. It was obvious you had ingested something you shouldn’t have, and even though you were safe with him now, he couldn’t help but consider the worst case scenario. He cared for you so much, it was like the thought of anything happening to you caused him physical pain. He didn’t always have the words to tell you how much he loved you, but he was sure as hell going to show you.

He took you home where he made you drink water and helped you undress before tucking you into bed. He knew you needed the rest, and it didn’t take you long to drift off to sleep, giving him time to plot how he was going to find the man who had hurt you and, in return, hurt him. He didn’t play around when it came to your safety and well-being, and that was a lesson he was going to teach the asshole who had drugged you.

For tonight, his plans were just that — plans. He wasn’t going to leave your side, and he wanted you to know as much, and so, he climbed into bed with you. He couldn’t

sleep, though, far too preoccupied worrying about you and watching over you.

As he tenderly stroked your cheek, you stirred awake, and he opened his mouth to apologize but the words got stuck in his throat while he gazed down at your flawless face. You were so beautiful and he felt so lucky to have you, even if that meant fighting off everyone else.

”Feelin’ better?” he asked quietly, his rough voice so gentle with you, and breaking into a smile, you nodded.

”Thank you, Frankie. I love you so much”, you whispered softly, causing the smallest of smiles to bloom on his face. He leaned down to kiss you, his large hand holding your chin as his lips met yours, and it took your breath away. He always knew how to send your heart flying, and it made your smile widen as you wrapped an arm around his neck. ”My hero”, you added quietly when the kiss broke, earning a snort from Frank.

”I’m no hero. But I’ll always come for you, pretty girl. I love you, yeah? There ain’t a thing in the world I wouldn’t do for you”, he vowed, and as he kissed you again, you knew he meant every word.