#no sympathy. they just tell you like it is and you accept that without trying to make excuses for the character | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

octoberautumnbox · 1 month ago

Note

Consider: Yubin who's your seatmate and is very professional in school but every night at 10pm you get the raciest, sauciest, spiciest nudes from her with no warning

Hell Week

tripleS Gong Yubin & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, that's p much all anyone needs to know i think

Word count: 5.5k holy shit

a/n: jeez howd it get this long :nolookk: oh btw i took some liberties with the prompt not that u care heres the fuckin yubin fic :DDDD

~~~

A hand lays itself on your shoulder, the sudden contact nearly making you jump. You turn around and find Yubin clutching a book to her chest with a gentle look on her features. Gesture over to the chair across from you, all the while trying to get your heart rate back under control.

“My bad, didn't see you were locked in.” She gets into the chair left of you anyway and turns her book to the same page as yours. “How's it going?”

You stretch and groan to let out as much of your tiredness as you can, paying just a bit of mind to everyone else in the library doing pretty much the same. “Dunno. Around twenty minutes ago I accepted I'm retaking this class. What's up with you?”

She giggles while her eyes scan across the paragraphs talking about desert flora and types of precipitation. She rests her cheek on her palm, “I still have a bit of fight in me, but I'm losing hope. I was hoping I could borrow some from you.”

“Sorry, Yubin,” you whisper with every ounce of sympathy you had, “fresh out.” You return to your own book, yet all you do is run your eyes over the same page over and over without much staying in your head.

A cursory look over to your left shows you scholar-mode Gong Yubin: focused, sharp, and serious. Not that it ever got in the way of you two being friends, but when she gets like this, you know better than to underestimate her–she's capable of plotting the downfall of kingdoms if she set her mind to it.

However, at the same time, you notice her distress, then immediately notice how well she hides it. It's the same slight crease of her eyebrows in freshman orientation, after midterms in Linguistics 103, and when she finally stopped putting off Geology 102. The realization dawns on you: the situation is dire now that she asks for your help while she's like this, so how could you let her down now?

“Bet you I can score higher,” you challenge her. You have no good reason to issue such a proposition, but if it means giving her support how it matters, whatever embarrassing thing she'll make you do is more than worth it.

It piques her interest and a smile pulls up the corners of her lips. She side-eyes you with an excitement she didn't have just two minutes prior, and you know it worked. “If I win,” she announces as loud as she's allowed to, “make me thick tofu stew. The right way.”

“Really? That's it?” Then you rebut with just as much fervor, “If I win, you do three of my essays in comparative lit next semester.”

“Now hold the fuck on,” she stumbles, her eyes grown wide and her smile grown toothy, “if you're gonna raise the stakes like that, I need to think of something else!”

Your phone and hers vibrate at the same time, and your screen reads “Get your ass over to Geog.” You both pack your bags and head off to your last Geology class before finals together, and as your book takes its place in the darkness of your backpack, “Fine, but I get to change mine too when I hear yours,” and the spring in her step as you walk tells you it's mission accomplished.

~~~

In hindsight, it really wasn’t all that bad. The class review session your professor held that day helped you nail down just enough of whatever the fuck sleet might be, and while you're certain it isn't flying colors, your grade at least wouldn't be red.

Coming out of the exam room, you spot Yubin just seconds before she finds you, and your good deed pays for itself as she skips to approach.

“Got a good feeling?” There was no point in asking other than that you had to hear it from her, though the wide grin on her face was proof enough.

“Yeah, I think barely,” she sways cutely from side to side, “and don't think you're off the hook!” She hits you light on the arm, and the most shining feature you can’t ignore is her eyebrows without any sign or symptom of the crease.

“Not over ‘til the fat lady sings, Gong Yubin,” though you know she's already won. “Three whole essays against… Haven't you decided yet?”

“No, not yet, but the bet is still on!”

You relent, “Fine, fine. Anyway, Nakyoung’s treating the gang to drinks tonight. Wanna come?”

“Nah, busy. Laundry and stuff.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot, and you can tell she’s giddy about what her grade is going to turn out to be. It’s a sight for sore eyes, especially ones that have seen too many grainy tectonic plates and water cycle diagrams. “And why do you insist on full-naming her?”

“I know someone whose name sounds the exact same. As far as I’m concerned, our Nakyoung’s the other Naky.” You place your hand on the small of her back and lead her away from the doorway, and she walks with you without a second thought.

“Mean. You’ll have to introduce me to this first Naky, then.” You slide into rhythm with her gait, and it hits you just how relieved you are for Yubin’s worries to be over.

It seems such a waste, you think, that laundry is the only thing keeping her away from celebrating, so as you walk out of the Social Sciences building, you bargain one more time: “We’ll be there all night, so just come by when you’re done. I speak for everyone when I say we want you to come, please?”

She giggles again, “I’ll see what I can do. It’s not like I don’t wanna be there, either. Plus,” she admits defeatedly, “we’re getting the results later, and God knows I’d rather not be alone when it comes.”

~~~

“Hey, where's Yubin?” Nakyoung slings an arm around your shoulder and shoves another mug of beer into your hand. It's a welcome gesture, and it takes all of two and a half seconds for you to down half of it.

“She has laundry,” you nearly shout back your reply above the music. “Said she'll drop by if she has time.”

Nakyoung makes to yell another reply right into your ear, but decides to pull you away into one of the quieter booths in the bar. “She's a goody-two-shoes, no? Laundry, oh please. Kaede hasn't done laundry in two years.” She takes a gulp of her own beer and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Hey. She studied her ass off for that test. I made a bet with her and it looks like she has high spirits, but I honestly dunno what I'd do if she fails.”

Your friend takes your chin up with her finger and you realize how pensive an expression was sitting on your face. “This is Gong Yubin. You know she'll kill it.” Nakyoung flashes a confident smile, and it reassures you almost more than your own trust in Yubin herself. “You drunk yet?”

“Nah, not getting shitfaced without Yubin.”

“Cute. You know she likes you too?”

“Go fuck yourself, Nakyoung. Go steal Seoyeon's boyfriend while you're at it.”

“I wish; she has him under lock and key. But I wouldn't really mind both of them,” she muses, eyeing Seoyeon in the middle of the dancefloor.

Just then, the devil strolls in through the front door. “Hi! You weren't kidding, it's really loud in here,” Yubin exclaims with her hands shielding her ears as she adjusts to the noise.

She takes Nakyoung's seat–you whip your head around and find Nakyoung at the dancefloor, with Seoyeon grinding against her–and picks up Nakyoung's old mug. She takes a careful sip and ends it with a relieved ahhhh, before setting it back down and getting to business. She leans in like keeping a secret, though she can't hide her toothy grin. “Have you seen your grade yet?”

“It's out?!” You fumble for your phone, and the second it lights up, cold runs through your veins–the email notification is the first thing at the top of the screen. Meanwhile, Yubin calmly slides her phone across the table to you. She asks “I read yours, you read mine?” with the sweetest smile on her face, again with the slight crease on her eyebrows.

Calm your nerves, silence the alarms blaring in your head. You know she did well, absolutely certain. However, it still doesn't soothe you enough; not until you see the grades for yourself. So, as your thumb hovers over her email, your heart nearly beats out of your chest, only to see–

“You got 87 percent,” Yubin states in the blandest, matter-of-fact tone you've ever heard. Her eyes move left and right over the same spot on your phone, making ultimate certain that she's reading it right. Once she is, her tone softens just enough, “Yeah, 87 percent. Wow, that's good,” she sighs with relief, “... Hard to beat.”

Now her turn, you peek at her score. doing the same making sure, and then some. When you read it for the fifth time, you kick yourself mentally for being so worried and having such little trust in the genius that is Gong Yubin. “Goddamn, 95 percent.”

Her eyes widen like sinkholes as her hand flies to cover her mouth. It almost doesn't matter that you hand her back her phone; she snatches it back anyway. Her disbelief chips away at itself with every run through of the email she reads for herself, and when she's finally done, returns her shocked gaze back to you.

“You were that scared of three essays?” you joke. The beer tastes sweeter now that your worries have gone, and as if all six septillion kilograms of the world is off your shoulders.

“No, three essays is easy,” she taunts, but immediately her voice takes on a gentler tone, “so I win, right?”

You scoff at her haughtiness, but your relief triumphs over all. “Yeah, whatever. What do you want?”

“... I wanna go home. This is enough excitement for one day.”

“Alright, let me take you. Tell me in the cab what you want for winning, though?”

“Sure,” she says with a tiny smile.

~~~

“So,” she declares. She catches her breath, and her face is overcome with a subtle red flush, “about the bet.”

“Yeah, about the bet.”

“I want…” and she hesitates. The cab runs over a mild speed bump, and the resulting sway seemingly knocks her completely out of focus. She gathers her resolve once more, as if every time she tries to speak she drops it and has to pick it up again.

“You want…?”

It's a good couple minutes of her breathing heavily, and your concern shows itself for her and whatever she has planned for you.

“Is it illegal? What could possibly be so bad that you're hesitating this much?”

“No, no, shut up. I'm working on it.” She takes one last deep breath, even placing a hand on her heart to steady it. “I want… a cum tribute.”

“... A cum tribute.”

“Yes.”

“You want me to…?”

“I'll send you a photo. And do it on that.”

“You want a photo of–”

“Video.”

“You–video?”

“I want a video. Of you. Cumming on a photo. My photo. I'll send it to you.”

There's no way the cab driver doesn't think this is weird. Then again, he has an earphone in, so he might not be listening in at all. You get the feeling Yubin doesn't care either way, completely focused on you.

“... Alright. You want it this bad, fine.”

“Good. Um,” she follows, “sorry in advance. It's gonna be my first time… taking a photo like this.” She refocuses her attention to the buildings whizzing by outside as she says it, the telltale sign the conversation is over. Still, it lingers in your head for a little while: Yubin's first time.

~~~

“Look, I'm sorry,” she sighs, “just come up with me? Please?”

You're standing with her outside her dorm, all the while the meter ticks away in the cab. The driver waits expectantly inside for you to get back, but Yubin's fingers wrapped around your sleeve make for a very difficult decision.

“Okay, okay, just let me pay the cab driver,” you concede, but as soon as you sum up the fare, Yubin snatches it from you and brings it over herself. She and the driver exchange a few words, ending with her waving him off and him leaving her in the dust. She waddles back with her signature grin: the one that tries and fails to hide her excitement.

“Can I just ask why you want it so bad?”

She shakes her head, “Nope. Now shush,” as you both make the now-silent trek up the four flights of stairs to her floor and room.

Upon entering, you immediately notice it's nicer than most dorm rooms: huge space, carpet floors, a big window, and two double-size beds, not to mention its own bathroom. It makes you stop and wonder if you ever glossed over any signs that Yubin or her family might come from old money.

“Uhh, give me a few minutes to get ready. The bed on the right is mine, make yourself at home. WiFi password by the light switch. Kaede doesn't like her stuff messed with, so steer clear.” Yubin then disappears into the bathroom, and you lay yourself down on her bed. You're made aware of how you sink comfortably into the memory foam, and of the disarming fragrance that wafts from her bedsheets and pillowcases. She's always smelled like this, you recall, but it's rather nice, you finally admit.

“Hey,” Yubin attempts. She sits on the edge of her bed next to you, wearing a set of pajamas and no makeup at all. You always knew Yubin was a pretty girl, God knows how many times she's been asked out, but seeing her like this is new; her allure draws you in with a smile and an embrace. Shit, was Nakyoung right? Do you like her?

“So… How do you want me?” She avoids your eyes and touches her fingertips together, a blush forming on her cheeks.

“Do you… Do you have a tie?”

Her ears perk up, “Yeah, hold on,” and she retrieves a thin, striped necktie from her dresser. She places it around her neck, her fingers delicately maneuvering the fabric into an intricate-looking knot, and when she's done, she presents herself to you.

“Take off your top, Yubin,” you tell her, and she hands you her phone with the camera already on. Point it at her, making sure the flash is off, and start taking pictures one by one.

She pushes aside the tie and fiddles with the top button. It's effortless how she undoes it, and she pulls the collar apart to show you more of her. She unbuttons the next, then the next, all the while showing you her smooth skin. With half the buttons undone, she shows off her chest, showing nothing but skin underneath her top.

You take a moment to catch your breath, swallow your spit. “Are you sure about this, Yubin?”

“Yeah… Just keep going, please.” She undoes her fifth button at the very bottom, revealing her midriff and making you salivate. Must be heaven to kiss her there, when she snaps you out of it, “Are you still taking pictures?” Am I that distracting?” Look up to her, find her with the same sweet smile on her face but with a new blush decorating her cheeks.

Her last button is her fourth, and it's undone before you know it. She keeps her pajama top on a little bit longer, covering her chest a little bit more, and finally she shrugs it off one shoulder. It's nothing but everything all at once, and the split second your self-control wavers is the exact moment you leap in.

You drop her phone somewhere on the mattress; both your hands grip her shoulders as your lips capture hers. She leans into the kiss, wrapping her fingers on the back of your neck, and tiny moans escape her amidst smooches that get louder the hungrier she gets.

Pull the top off her other shoulder, and she finally strips it all off. However, you can't even enjoy the sight, not yet, as you draft down from her lips to her slender neck, leaving a trail of kisses on your way. She runs her fingers through your hair before holding you in place, all the while leading your free hand to her chest.

She sucks air in through her teeth, “That's really good, just like that…” she moans as her head tilts to allow more access to her neck. The scent of her shampoo fills your nostrils and you feel yourself getting addicted, but not as much as to the softness of her skin.

She pulls you down onto the bed, and you find yourself leaning over her. Yubin lies under you, watching you intently and waiting for what you'll do next. Her tie sits right in the valley of her tits, and it drives you wild. Take a nipple in between your teeth while you fondle her other breast. She breathes heavy in pleasure, wordlessly asking for more and more of your attention and love. Her fist closes on your hair as she pushes you further onto her chest, her other hand hopelessly tugging on your pants.

It's all the message you need from her: your pants go, then your underwear, then everything else. Your cock stands hard in her sights, and the way her fingers wrap around your length is nothing short of heaven.

“Do… do you wanna do it with me?” Her question is purely innocent, without a single hint of malice in her voice. She rubs your shaft slowly, sending waves of tantalizing pleasure throughout your whole body.

“Do you have condoms?”

“... Kaede will forgive me.” She crawls down the ladder, picks out a square plastic wrapper from her roommate's dresser, and hurries to get back to you. The smile on her face as she comes up the ladder again is one of, if not the most beautiful things you've ever seen.

You guide her as she puts the condom on you, and the sensation of her fingers gently unrolling the rubber along your length only makes you more impatient. Finally, you hook your fingers on the garter of her pajama bottoms, and she lifts her hips to accommodate you. The fabric slides off her so easily, revealing her long, smooth legs that she seems desperate to have you in between of.

“Go easy, okay? I told you…”

“Yeah, your first time. I'll take care of you,” you reassure her. Line up your throbbing cock against her slick heat, feel her palm on your cheek, watch her flash that killer smile again. She bites her lip, and while you know it isn't on purpose, it makes her look sexier all the same.

Slide your cock into her, making sure to go slow. She shuts her eyes harder with every inch she takes of you, and when she moves her hands to your forearms and grips tight, it reminds you like a looping cycle: “Go easy, go easy.”

So you go slow and steady, staving off your lust for the woman giving herself to you. Each thrust into her sex is careful and calculated, though by the second you feel your calculations going awry. She pants at every good spot in her cavern you happen to drag across, earning her little admissions of newly found pleasure in the form of mewls and moans like a song you’d never tire of.

“Faster, please…? You’re so–ugh, fuck…” And the way she pleads flips a switch in you; plant your elbows into the memory foam on either side of her head while she takes your face in her hands. Yubin pulls you in for a kiss and it means the world to her when you grow careless with your lovemaking.

“Fuck, fuck, not too fast, just right, mmm,” each time you push into her cunt. The way she mumbles sweet nothings into your ear, the way she holds on for dear life and leaves scratches all the way down your back, she takes up every single thought going through your head: Yubin, Yubin, Yubin…

You scarcely notice how she's scratching your harder, gripping you tighter, grinding against you faster–it’s much too late to finally hear her warning, “I'm close, I'm close, oh fuck, fuck, aaahhhh!” as she explodes with you still inside her. Her pussy clenches around your cock in all the best ways, and you savor the feeling as she rides out her orgasm. Her knuckles turn white as she grips you by the shoulders, though all you can see is how her tits bounce with every jerk that runs through her body. Yubin's eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth hangs open, a prolonged, deep moan gracing your ears as she ambles closer and closer to spent.

Take a moment, let her breathe. Every gasp of air in her lungs is like a blessing, and each one steadily brings her from beyond heaven back to you. Her hands fall to her sides as she pants out her delirium and replaces it with tiredness, and once she's stable she flashes you that killer smile again. It pulls on the corners of her mouth, showing the tiniest amount of teeth, though her eyes are nowhere near open. Plant a kiss on her cheek, then her neck, then receive her giggles once you stay and rest right on her pulse.

“You good? Still alive?”

All she can do is nod, having had every last ounce of her strength sapped. She lays motionless under you, save for her chest rising and falling with her breathing, and you know she looks to you for comfort and security. You take another moment to bask in her afterglow; she's never looked more gorgeous.

“Hey,” she whispers, and you swear it's the most tired you've ever heard her, or anyone for that matter. “You good?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. Are you sure you're good?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” She pulls you back down and plants a kiss on your cheek. Her lips linger for a second, as if she's taking in your scent made hers. You stay like this for a good while, just enjoying each other's presence, relishing in the warmth of a body that gave itself up for the other. You don't even notice when you slumped over onto the mattress beside her, but her head on your chest felt like the rightest thing in the world.

“We're not done, by the way,” she prods.

“What? Why not? Aren't you tired?”

“‘Tired’ isn't part of the bet. I still want that tribute.”

And you remember, you have a job to do, a debt to pay. It’s between your common sense and your lust for the hottest girl in the world right now, and there is a clear winner.

Pull back from her, off of the bed, and plant your feet on the floor. Firm and resolute, tell her: “Fine, on your knees.” The flush on her face deepens to an igneous red, and she scrambles to the floor in front of you.

“You're so pretty, Yubin,” you muse as you point her camera back to her face. Make sure the flash is off, and once you push the big red button to record, your other hand immediately takes her cheek and guides her to your tip.

Yubin's eyes flutter shut as she inches her lips closer and closer to your cock. The first contact is heavenly; just gentle kisses and licks from a complete novice pretending to be an expert at this sort of stuff. The way her tongue glides over your shaft, the way she plants kisses all over your cock with the tiniest sucks, the way she does all of this with her eyes gracefully shut makes for a killer video for her to get off to later. A blowjob from a girl like this comes once in a lifetime, so you resolve to give her everything she'd ever want from a tribute like this.

A moan escapes you, and she picks up that she's doing it right. With your subconscious approval, the hand on her cheek pulling further her in, she takes your tip in her mouth. Her tongue works overtime in running all over the head, paying special attention to your slit, making absolutely sure her spit coats wherever she can reach. She takes in more and more of your shaft, pressing her tongue on the underside of your cock as she does, all the while her cheeks hollow out like her life depends on it.

Tiny vibrations from her throat only add to the pleasure, sending shivers up your spine and your hand to the back of her head. For the first time, she opens her eyes, and the sight is something to behold: she looks up at you with the biggest, roundest, most pleading eyes, the epitome of cuteness if not for your cock she oh-so-diligently services to get what she wants.

Yubin takes you in just a bit deeper, slightly turning her head and savoring the way your length fills her mouth, when you hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag. She pulls back abruptly as a tear forms in the corner of her eye, and you have half a mind to pull out entirely to make sure she's okay. Instead, she never lets you–she takes your cock again, shooting you another pleading look before she shuts her eyes and bobs her head onto your cock again and again.

Luckily, you pick up on her message; Snake your fingers through her hair, grab a fistful, make her yours. A moan rises from her throat once again, and she steadies herself with her hands on your thighs in preparation. She's ready.

Pull her in as far as she can take, and it's a good most of your shaft before she gags again. Offer her no breathing room, bob her head onto your cock over and over, all the while more of her slobber coats your length, some of it falling off her lips and onto her chest and lap. She never fights, only takes–soon the gagging is replaced by an obedient, rhythmic gluck-gluck-gluck than you're sure even she'd find hot if she could think straight. Instead, her phone picks up every sight and sound for her to enjoy later, while you both enjoy each other now.

It's everything all at once: the sight of Gong Yubin's plump, sexy lips around your shaft, the feeling of her tongue relentlessly dragging over every inch of your cock, the sound of your tip meeting her throat again and again while her groans fight their way out. “Yubin… I'm close,” you confess, but with her eyes still shut and her tongue still going crazy all over you, you don't think she heard. So make the decision yourself: yank her hard off your cock, rub your shaft right against her delicious lips. Once she exits her daze, she takes your dick in her hand and rubs all across the length. Tears fall from the corner of her eyes and her lips give off the slightest tremble, but she's resolute in what she wants to earn from you.

It takes no time at all until you reach your limit. It's the best handjob anyone has ever probably given, but it's that one last kiss from her, right on your tip, that sends you over the edge. One last groan, one last jerk, one last tug of her hair, and your orgasm hits. Your cum shoots out in ropes, all landing on her face and tits. She's determined to receive everything from you, so it's only right to give her exactly what she wants. She shuts her eyes again, but her mouth stays wide open to catch whatever she can of it–she never stops jerking you off even as your cum falls onto her eyelids, her nose bridge, her forehead, her chin. Yubin savors every moment and every drop, burning the memory of bliss into her mind as you coat her face with your love.

Your orgasm finally dies down, and you realize just how much she squeezed out of you. You're sure no one has ever looked lewder, your cum smeared all over her face, yet she proves you wrong when she picks up a fingerful of it to take into her mouth. She licks her lips, apparently loving the taste, while you love the sight of her acting so sultry for you.

Stumble back onto the bed, take Yubin with you. Both of you are out of strength, breathing heavy, and in the middle of processing that you just painted her face with cum–that she asked you to paint her face with cum. You barely notice the stars swirling in your eyes, but your sense of the situation comes back just quick enough to avoid things getting awkward.

“I think I wanna shower, so you should wash up first,” you mumble, still staring at her beige ceiling, and you can feel she's panting and doing the same without even seeing her.

Wordlessly she gets up and her carpet-muffled footsteps grow quieter as she heads to the bathroom. A door shuts, a handle creaks, a shower gushes to life. Your brain sits idle, making no attempts to form thoughts other than acknowledging the shower turning off and on while she bathes. It's calming in its own way, you suppose–taking a bath is one of the normalest things in the world–as if what you just did with her was a close runner-up.

An unknowable amount of time passes, and a fresh, citrus-scented Yubin emerges from the bathroom again. She dries her hair with her towel as she makes her way to her hair blower, but not before shooting you a gorgeous smile and a head tilt to the bathroom to let you know it's your turn.

~~~

Leaving the bathroom yourself, you find a dark bedroom, save only for a yellow lamp shining against a nearby wall. Yubin is sitting up in her bed and scrolling on her phone, and once she spots you, she beckons you over.

“Look, funny,” she whispers with a giggle, and she shows you a clip of a guy much too excited about a truck looking like Optimus Prime.

“Yeah. Hey, listen, I'm pretty tired,” you attempt. In no way is this a lie, and you're sure she's tired too. You bet she wants nothing more than to finally go to sleep and end what should be a perfect night on a high note.

“Totally,” she agrees, “come on in. It's cold.” She lifts up the covers and looks over to you expectantly. Not that it dumbfounds you, but it throws you for a slight loop; she literally just said it was cold.

“Wh– I'm heading out, is what I mean. You should get your rest, too.”

Yubin's eyes take on a softer expression, “Oh, you're not staying over?”

“... Did you want me to?”

“Yeah…?”

Your eyes lock with hers for what seems like half a second and a million hours at the same time. You're stuck in place, still in a stalemate of a staring contest with her, and you're not sure even she knows what the two of you want out of the situation. Her expression turns into one of concern, and her arm holding up the covers falters just a bit. Fuck, you think, window's closing.

Make your choice, have no regrets. Get in the covers with her, and she lets them drop to snuggle up to you. Once the both of you settle, her head on your chest and yours on one of the fluffiest pillows in the world, she blurts out quietly: “You fucked up, you know.”

She navigates to her gallery and finds your video of her, and skips to a part near the end. “Your dumb ass stopped recording just as you were about to cum.” And the video did show that: Yubin rubbing your cock, eyes shut, tongue out and ready for your load, and the video stops.

“Shit, sorry–”

“This wasn't the bet. I wanted a cum tribute, not a facial. You need to send me a proper one,” she muses, “or take a proper video.”

Now that stuns you. You wonder how interesting her ceiling is for you to stare at it so much, but she snaps you out of it partway through by snaking a hand up your shirt and settling it right above your heart. Reciprocate–it only feels right��wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her even closer. An exhale from both of you, and one last exchange of words:

“Okay. Tomorrow?”

“Can you go again that soon?”

“If it's you, of course.”

“Don't guys need to recharge?”

“... I'll handle it.”

~~~

#girl group smut #kpop smut #triples smut #yubin smut #gong yubin #triples yubin #fic box #ask box

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charliemwrites · 10 months ago

Text

Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

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Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia!au #mafia boss price #assistant reader

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0mysteiarchives · 10 months ago

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"Without a trace."

• Firefly , Aventurine , Misha , Robin

A/N: Felt quirky soo... reader dying alone arc

Warnings: reader actually dying like fr and angst ?? idk.. also ooc or something... i'll just put it in case

Well..! So you were caught by death at an unexpected moment, but..

Not a single person in Penacony knew you were gone?

Your body feeling heavy and your vision becoming blurry, you held tightly onto the last string of consciousness you had left, thinking about the person you cared the most..

Firefly had offered to take you around the plaza to play different games, try different pastries, watch the beautiful scenery from her secret hideout until by each other's side like a little 'date'..

Oh, how she eagerly waits for you as people come and go by her with the happy feelings she hopes to share with you, not even knowing you're gone.

Adventurine had made a bet with you, and the loser of the game has to take the other to an expensive, and luxurious restaurant. He joked that it would be a romantic moment between the two of you and watched as you brushed him off and accepted the deal.

Oh, how disappointed he felt when he never received a single message, thinking that you had backed out without telling him as he walked away from your meeting spot, unaware that you're even gone.

Misha had accepted your offer of helping around the Reverie out of sympathy, you watched as his expression turned from a confused to a happy, and appreciative one. He felt grateful that you would keep him company and have time to catch up.

Oh, how deeply sad he felt as he never saw you walk through the hotel entrance, thinking you had abandoned your promise. He'd overthink that you were gone.

Robin had given you a free ticket to her next concert, giving you a sweet smile and telling you to keep it a secret from her fans, to which you gave into and accepted the invitation. She gave you a hug before parting ways to get ready and make herself presentable mostly for you.

Oh, how hurt she felt when she was unable to find you within the crowd, quickly scurrying down after her performance to ask her fans, her staff members, and even her brother for your whereabouts. How heartbroken she'd be to find out you were gone.

And oh, how you wished that you could have seen them for one last time with tears in your eyes, as you apologize that you two may not meet ever again.

Literally chilling in my chair w food and water casually writing random angst I thought would be cool rn

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr adventurine x reader #adventurine x reader #hsr firefly x reader #firefly x reader #hsr misha x reader #misha x reader #hsr robin x reader #robin x reader #hsr angst #Glassed Reflections

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thewickedjazzy · 3 months ago

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𓍼𝑽𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑶𝒇 𝑴𝒚 𝑶𝒘𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚𓂃

➵ 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 : Beast! Dazai osamu x f! reader

➵ 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸: You are Dazai's favourite—an executive who avoided unnecessary bloodshed, preferring to strategize behind the scenes. With your cunning plans, you helped the Port Mafia flourish after Mori's death, and under Dazai's leadership, you became vital in securing the organization's power.

➵ 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽: NSFW minor dni, smut, angst, dazai is controlling, yandere dazai?, character death, abuse, guns, blood, SA, dissociation, manipulation, unhealthy relationship, let me know if I forgot any Xx.

➵ 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮: Helloooo, this fic took me 3 weeks to finish, I'm always down with angst stories cause, let's be real, no bsd fan doesn't like angst, right? also, ice cream man by raye inspired me to write some parts uwu I hope you enjoy it. xoxo -dividers credits to @anitalenia

➵ 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 6.8k

You shouldn't be crying. You already did beat the man up till he was shaking, but you couldn't help it. You can still feel his ice-cold hands marking your body, a sensation that sends shivers down your spine. How you wish you could express how you feel, how you felt in that moment when your strength faltered. You long to explain why you’re silently blaming yourself, why the guilt gnaws at your insides like a relentless parasite.

You put on these faces, pretending you're fine, wearing a mask of strength that you desperately want to believe in. But in the privacy of the bathroom, you press rewind, playing the events over and over in your head. His fingerprints, like invisible stains, linger on your skin, a cruel reminder of how he made you frame yourself for his sins. Such a pathetic, dead excuse of a man.

The man in question wasn’t just some random thug—he was your crazy ex, the one who had haunted you for years, refusing to let go, even after everything had ended. You hadn’t told anyone about the encounter. What would they think? What would he think? Dazai, with his sharp eyes and sharper mind, would see right through you. He always did.

You straighten up and hastily wipe your tears away as you hear a knock on the door. The sound sends a jolt through your body, and you quickly compose yourself, trying to erase any trace of vulnerability from your face.

Seated at your desk, you take a deep breath and call out, "Come in."

The door opens, and it's Chuuya, greeting you with his usual smile. But the moment his eyes land on you, the smile drops, concern filling his gaze as he takes in your red nose and puffy eyes.

“Hey, you okay?”' he asks with a low and gentle voice.

You force a weak smile, shaking your head. "Yeah..just... pmsing," you lie, the excuse feeling hollow even to you. You get up walking towards him before adding quickly, "Please don’t tell Dazai."

Chuuya hesitates, his eyes searching yours, before he nods, accepting your words without question. He hands you his handkerchief, his expression softening with sympathy as you take it from him.

You dab at your eyes, feeling the wetness seep into it, and then take a deep breath. You can’t afford to break down, not now. Not in front of him.

He escorted you to Dazai’s office, his presence a quiet comfort. At the door, he gave you a final, soft look before turning away.

The office door creaked open, and you stepped inside, the chill of the room amplifying the coldness you already felt. Dazai looked up from his desk, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your disheveled state.

“Rough day?” he asked, voice so velvetly soft that it could melt you.

You tried to muster a casual smile, but it felt hollow. “Just had a run-in with some old... baggage. Nothing to worry about.”

Dazai’s eyes didn’t leave you, his expression shifting to something more serious. “You know I don’t buy that ‘nothing’ act. What’s really going on?”

You took a deep breath, struggling to keep your voice steady. “It’s really not your concern. I’m handling it.”

Dazai’s gaze was sharp as he looked you up from his desk, his usual lazy posture replaced by a steely focus. “Come here,” he said, a command wrapped in casual tones.

Reluctantly, you approached, his eyes never leaving you. He patted his lap, a gesture both familiar and unsettling. “Sit.”

You shook your head, trying to avoid his intense stare, oh god how he toys with your emotions. “I’m fine standing.”

Dazai’s expression darkened slightly, his patience wearing thin. He reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist as he pulled you closer. The touch was feather-light but unmistakably commanding. He guided you gently onto his lap, his hands resting on your waist.

You stiffened, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Osamu, really, it’s nothing.”

Ignoring your protests, Dazai’s lips brushed against your neck, his kisses soft but insistent. You tilted your head, a soft whimper escaping your lips. The sensation was like a nicotine hit after a long withdrawal; you had been away on a mission for three days, and you had missed his touch more than you cared to admit. As his lips continued their tender assault, he pulled your shirt down slightly, revealing the fresh bruise that marred your skin.

Dazai’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint reflecting in them. The bruise was vivid, a stark contrast against your pale skin, and his expression darkened as he took in the sight.

“Who did this?” he asked coldly, his voice remained low.

You turned your head away, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s not important.”

Dazai’s hand tightened on your waist, his grip firm and unyielding as he tilted your head back. His kisses turned sharper, more insistent, and you couldn’t help but let out soft whimpers. His breath was warm against your skin, his lips pressing harder with each passing second. “I said who did this..”

You swallowed hard, the pressure of his words mixing with the lingering sting of the bruise. “It’s nothing. Just...someone from my past.”

His grip remained unyielding, his gaze piercing. “I don’t like secrets. Especially ones that involve you getting hurt.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the weight of his expectations pressing down. You felt cornered, unable to escape the intensity of his scrutiny. “I said it’s nothing. Please, just let it go.”

Dazai’s expression remained impassive for a moment, then he simply nodded. The acknowledgment was neither reassuring nor dismissive, leaving a cold tension in the air.

After a few seconds of silence Dazai's voice cut through the room, his fingers still brushing against your skin. “The thing is, my love, you don’t have to tell me anything.” He turned to the intercom on his desk, his tone shifting to a cold, commanding edge. “Atsushi, you can bring him in now.”

Your eyes widened in shock, your legs going weak as you tried to turn your head towards the door. It creaked open slightly, and Atsushi rushed in, dragging your ex behind him. Your ex’s hands were bound tightly, and he was unconscious, a cloth over his mouth. Atsushi tossed him roughly onto the floor and announced, “I brought him alive, just as you ordered.”

“Good work, Atsushi,” he said calmly. “You can leave now.”

Dazai’s gaze remained on you, his smile twisted with a cruel satisfaction as Atsushi closed the door behind him. He lifted your legs lightly, forcing you to stand as he moved toward the prone figure of your ex, who was beginning to stir. Dazai’s fingers traced along your ex’s jawline with an unsettling gentleness.

Horror gripped you as you watched, understanding what was about to unfold. You begged, your voice trembling, “Please, Dazai, don’t kill him.”

He merely tsked in response, his eyes cold and unyielding. “I’m not going to kill him.”

Before you could take a deep breath, his voice sliced through the tension like an arrow. “You are the one who's going to do it.” He gently grabs your hands placing a gun between them.

Your hands trembled as you held the gun, the cold metal biting into your palms. The room was deathly silent except for the faint, ragged breaths of your ex as he began to regain consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, revealing a mix of confusion and fear as he took in his surroundings.

Dazai’s cold eyes were locked on you.“Go on,” he urged softly. “You wanted him to suffer for what he did. Here’s your chance.”

The gun felt impossibly heavy, and your heart pounded in your chest. You glanced at your ex, his eyes widening in terror as he realized what was happening. “Please,” you whispered, more to yourself than to anyone else. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

Dazai’s smile widened slightly. “It doesn’t matter what you wanted. You’ve been given a choice. What will you do with it?”

Your mind raced, grappling with the gravity of the situation. You thought of the pain he’d caused you, the fear he had instilled, and the bruises that still stung. Yet, the thought of ending his life filled you with a profound dread. You felt trapped, the decision crushing under the weight of Dazai’s expectation and your own turmoil.

“Do it,” Dazai said, his voice a soft command, almost a caress. “Or I’ll do it for you. But if I do, you’ll have missed your chance to decide your own fate.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you faced your ex, his terror and confusion mirroring your own. Choked sobs left you lips Dazai’s gaze followed every movement with a sick interest.

“Please, Dazai..don’t make me do this,” you pleaded, your voice cracking.

Dazai’s expressionwas stoic as ever. “You’re not being asked to make a choice you can’t live with. You’re being given the chance to claim control over your own life.”

With a final, desperate look at your ex, you closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. The gun felt like a lead weight in your hand, the gravity of your decision pressing down on you. Finally, with a heavy heart and trembling hands, you raised the gun.

You closed your eyes tightly, the room spinning as you tried to steady your racing heart. The gun trembled in your grip, the weight of the decision nearly unbearable. You heard Dazai move behind you, his footsteps silent against the floor.

His presence was almost soothing as he came closer, but you knew better than to trust the comfort of his proximity. Dazai's hands settled on your outstretched arms, his touch both firm and unsettlingly gentle. His fingers caressed the metal of the gun, guiding it with a measured pressure.

“You don’t need to hesitate,” Dazai murmured softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve already made the decision. Now, you just need to follow through.”

The sensation of his hands on yours, the intimate pressure of his grip, made your breathing shallow and uneven. You felt a dark, twisted sense of helplessness as his fingers guided the gun, aligning it with your ex’s trembling form.

“I’ll count to three,” Dazai continued, his voice was steady “And when I reach three, I want you to pull the trigger. Don’t let yourself falter.”

You felt his breath on your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. The intimacy of his touch contrasted sharply with the gravity of the moment. You wanted to pull away, to escape the suffocating pressure, but his grip held you firmly in place.

“One,” Dazai said, his voice calm as he pressed a soft kiss on your neck.

Your tears fell silently as you fought against the urge to drop the gun.

“Two,” Dazai’s breath was warm as he pressed another kiss.

You could hear your ex’s shallow breaths, his eyes pleading as they met yours.

“Three,” Dazai said, his voice now a commanding whisper.

With a final, shuddering breath, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the world as you pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot echoed painfully in the room, and you felt the impact of the action resonate through your very core.

You opened your eyes, your arms fell limp as the gun slipped from your grasp, hitting the floor with a hollow clatter. You staggered back, your legs barely holding you upright, and turned away from the grim sight before you.

Dazai’s grip on your shoulders was a cold anchor as he held you steady, his touch paradoxically soothing yet possessive. You could feel his breath against your neck as he leaned in close, his voice a chilling murmur. “Well done,” he said placing soft kisses again as his arms wrapped around your waist pulling your back against his chest. “You’ve proven your resolve.”

You felt a wave of nausea and despair wash over you, your emotions a tangled mess of guilt and horror. The room spun as you tried to make sense of the scene in front of you. The body on the floor was now still, the weight of your actions sinking in with a heavy finality.

Dazai’s hands slid down to your wrists, his touch now insistent as he forced you to look at the aftermath. “Do you see what you’ve done?” he asked softly, his voice a mix of praise and dark satisfaction. “You’ve taken control of your own fate.”

You tried to pull away, but his grip was firm, his presence an oppressive force that left you feeling trapped. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for any semblance of escape, but all you found was the unyielding gaze of Dazai, his face reflecting a mixture of cold pleasure and calculated dominance.

His fingers gently traced your jawline, his touch both tender and unsettling. “It’s done now,” he said, his voice almost affectionate. “You did great, my love.”

The finality of his words echoed in your mind as you struggled to come to terms with what had just happened. The tears streaming down your face were a testament to the turmoil within you, the depth of your inner conflict clear as you fought to keep yourself composed.

Dazai’s hands gently turned you around to face him. His expression, though tinged with satisfaction, softened as he wiped away the tears streaming down your face. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he carefully brushed away the last remnants of your distress.

He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The tenderness of the moment was jarring against the harsh reality of what had just occurred. His lips moved gently against yours, and he licked your bottom lip before drawing it into a passionate, consuming kiss.

The warmth of his kiss contrasted sharply with the icy numbness you felt inside. You felt his fingers trace your face, lingering on the slight traces of blood that you hadn’t even noticed. His touch was delicate, almost intimate, as he wiped away the remnants with careful precision.

Dazai pulled away from the kiss, his expression unreadable as he reached for the intercom on his desk. “Atsushi,” he said with a cold, commanding tone, “bring in the clean-up crew. Dispose the body.”

Atsushi entered the room, his eyes shifting between you and Dazai. He bowed slightly, acknowledging the order before moving towards the body. As he lifted your ex’s lifeless form, the finality of the situation hit you with renewed force. You stared blankly, more tears streaming down your face, as Atsushi carried the body out and closed the door behind him.

The room was filled with the soft hum of Dazai’s presence as he moved back in front of you. He gently placed his hands on your cheeks, shushing you softly as your sobs grew louder. “Shh, it’s alright,”he murmured, his voice almost soothing.

You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, your sobs escaping in ragged bursts. Dazai’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. His embrace was both comforting and suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice a murmur against your hair. “I know it was hard.”

You could barely respond, the weight of your own emotions too heavy to articulate. All you could do was clutch at him, your sobs muffled against his chest as the realization of what had happened continued to sink in. You hated him, and yet, in the chaos of your emotions, you felt a desperate, confusing affection for him—a love that seemed to only grow more complicated in the aftermath of his actions.

Dazai’s fingers gently combed through your hair, his touch soothing despite the circumstances. “It’s all over now,” he said softly.

His lips brushed against your forehead in a tender kiss, “He should've known better than to touch what's mine.”

The room was filled with the constant contact of your colliding bodies. Your body arched against the rumpled sheets as his thrusts filled you completely, each stroke hitting exactly the right spots.

" Mmm.. that's it my love, take my cock all the way inside this pretty eager pussy of yours" he growled softly against your skin.

You relished the way every thrust brushed against your cervix, sending waves of pleasure through you. The intensity of his movements left you feeling utterly consumed, your mind hazed and eyes glossy with desire. Your fingers dug into his back, desperately clutching him as he moved with a raw intensity.

His lips traveled down your neck, biting and kissing with a fervent need. One hand cupped your breast with a possessive grip while his mouth hovered over the other, teasing with gentle flicks of his tongue and playful nips at your nipple. The mix of sensations was overwhelming, your moans filling the space between you.

Yet, even in the midst of this passion, your mind began to wander. The memories of the past few days—the confrontation, the guilt, and Dazai’s chilling command—flooded your thoughts, turning the intense pleasure into a distant murmur. You felt a growing disconnection, your body reacting while your mind struggled to stay present.

Sensing the abrupt change, Dazai felt as if he were thrusting into a lifeless body. He slowed his movements and pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with a rare softness. “What’s wrong, my love?” he asked, concern filling his lustrous gaze.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself as your voice, though shaky, was firm. “It’s fine,” you reassured him, forcing a weak smile. “I just... got lost in my thoughts for a moment. It’s nothing.” You reached out to gently touch his cheek, trying to convey that the issue was more internal than it was about him.

Dazai took a deep breath and shifted to sit upright, his concern still evident. “You're still thinking about it, right?” he asked, his voice tinged with genuine worry.

"Please, just forget about it." you said, pulling his wrist with a firm but gentle grip. Before he could respond, you pressed your lips against his, kissing him deeply to steer your focus back to the present.

Dazai gasped into the kiss, his breath hitching as your kissed him with fervor. He gently pinned your wrists down with a possessive grip, his lips trailing soft kisses along your chest. He positioned himself again, his cock pressing against your throbbing cunt, his voice a low murmur.

“We can stop if it’s too much, my love,” he whispered as his chest moves up and down with each breath.

You locked gaze with his eyes, “Just fuck me already,” you breathed. You wanted to reclaim the moment, to bury the past beneath the intense passion that bound you both.

He slams his cock into you again, filling you completely. A growl escapes his lips as he watches you squirm beneath him, clearly enjoying the sight of your reactions. His thrusts become more powerful, and he showers your neck, chest, and breasts with fervent kisses.

"So addict to my cock, love? Hmm?" he continues to taunt you with his words and delivers a firm slap to your ass, making you shiver from his touch.

You gasp, arching your back as his thrusts hit all the right spots. “It feels so good, 'samu” you breathe, trying to steady yourself.

He slaps your ass again, making you shiver and whimper. “Say it again, my love haah~ I need to hear you say how good ugh~I’m making you feel.”

“s'good,” you moan, your voice breaking.

"Good" with a satisfied growl, he pulls out. “Now, ride me.”

You nod, your legs trembling in anticipation. As you position yourself over him, he hisses at the sensation of your cold hand guiding his hard, leaking cock to your eager, wet cunt.

As you sink down onto him, your walls stretches to accommodate his size, a deep moan slipping from your lips as you take him in fully. The feeling is overwhelming, your inner walls tightening around him, drawing a sharp gasp from both of you.

His long slender fingers grip your hips, helping you find a rhythm as you begin to ride against him. Each roll of your hips sends waves of pleasure through you, the friction making you shudder.

You lean forward, your fingers fumbling as you carefully remove the bandage from his eye. Your breath is hot against his neck as you whisper, “’Samu, I love you.” Your body presses against his, and with a surge of passion, you begin to ride him at a faster pace, each movement gaining a growl from him.

His eye, now fully exposed, darkens with lust as he gazes up at you. “I love you too, darling,” he murmurs through soft gasps. He meets your rhythm with powerful thrusts, each one driving deeper into you, matching your pace perfectly.

Feeling the pressure building within you, your moans grow louder. “I’m... close, ‘Samu,” you gasp, your trembling hands held onto his shoulders for support as you ride him faster, rolling your hips against his perfect sized cock feeling him hit every spot with his thrusts against you.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he groans in pleasure. “Oh yeah? Come all over my cock, love,” beads of sweat rolling down his temples, his words sending you spiraling closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tightly, guiding you through the overwhelming waves of pleasure as your body trembles in his grasp.

The coil inside you finally snaps, releasing a wave of ecstasy that washes over you. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m coming, ah~ hmm~,” you cry out, your body going numb from the overwhelming pleasure. Your juices flow freely, spilling down and coating his cock as his thrusts become more intense, shaking your body upwards.

Dazai's growls of satisfaction mix with your moans as he thrusts upward forcefully, riding out his own climax. His body shudders with the release, and he moans loudly, his pleasure echoing through the room.

As the intense waves of pleasure begin to subside, Dazai slowly pulls out, his breath heavy and ragged. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close tenderly. The warmth of his embrace soothes you, bringing a sense of comfort and safety as you both calm down from your shared high. His fingers gently caress circles on your back, his breathing gradually steadying as he murmurs softly into your ear, “God, you did so well, my love.”

You watch him as he gets up, stretching slightly before heading towards the bathroom, the soft hum of water barely filling the room as he turns on the shower. The warmth of the bed still lingers around you, but it does little to quell the chill creeping into your thoughts.

Your mind drifts back to that moment a few days ago. The weight of the gun in your hand, the resistance of the trigger as you squeezed it—it's all so vivid, so real, that it feels as if you're still there, frozen in that moment. You can almost hear the echoes of the shot ringing in your ears, see the flash of surprise in his eyes as life slipped away from him.

You shake your head, trying to dispel the images, but they cling stubbornly, refusing to let go.

He calls your name from the shower, his voice gentle, inviting, yet tinged with concern when you don’t respond immediately. The sound is almost enough to pull you back, but your mind remains caught in that dark place, replaying the scene over and over.

"My love?" another call, softer this time, as he pushes the already ajar bathroom door further open to check on you. His presence pulls you back just enough to acknowledge him, to let the past slip away—at least for now.

His eyes meet yours, concern etched on his face. “Are you okay?”

You nod, forcing yourself to sit up. “I’m fine,” You managed to get off the bed, the cool air brushing against your naked skin, grounding you somewhat.

As you step into the bathroom, your body moves on autopilot, but your mind remains distant. You tell yourself that in a week or so, the memory will fade, that the guilt will lessen, that you’ll forget. But deep down, you know it's just another lie you’re feeding yourself, another attempt to bury the truth under layers of denial.

He steps aside to let you join him under the warm cascade of water, his arms wrapping around you as he senses your unease. “Hey,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple, “you’re safe with me, my love.”

You nod, leaning into his embrace, but the words feel hollow, the comfort fleeting. The water washes over you, warm and soothing, but it can’t cleanse the darkness that lingers within.

You stood in front of the mirror, the dim light casting shadows on your face. Your reflection stared back at you, hollow eyes and a face pale from sleepless nights. The trauma of the past week weighed heavily on you, the memory of the blood-soaked room and the desperate cries of your ex replaying in your mind over and over again.

It had been a week since that horrifying event, but still the memory still clung to your mind like a stubborn stain. Dazai had been more affectionate than usual since then, uncharacteristically tender in his way.

The intimacy between you had taken on a new, softer turn, the moments shared tinged with an almost fragile gentleness. His eyes, once so sharp, now held an unsettling softness, as if he were trying to erase the darkness with his own brand of twisted comfort.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were trapped—caught in a web he’d spun so intricately that you hadn’t even noticed until it was too late.

You had tried to bury the memory, to push it away with every ounce of strength you had. But it never really left, lurking in the corners of your mind—what you had been forced to do.

You needed a break, a breath of fresh air, anything to push back the suffocating fog that had taken over your mind. So, you grabbed your coat, slipped into your favourite boots, and stepped out of your apartment, clinging to the hope of finding some shred of normalcy.

The bar was a refuge, a place where the world’s harsh edges seemed to dull. It was where you went to forget, even if only for a little while. As you walked through the door, the familiar clink of glasses and murmur of conversation welcomed you. The warmth inside, the smoky haze and soft jazz music they all played a part into easing you up even for a bit.

You made your way to the bar, your usual seat already occupied. The bartender greeted you with a nod, his understanding gaze a small comfort. You ordered your drink and settled into your chair, trying to shake off the lingering heaviness from the past week.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You picked it up and saw a message from Chuuya: "Hey, just checking in. Are you okay? I’m worried about you."

You typed back: "I’m fine, just needed some time to clear my head. At the bar now, trying to relax a bit." You hit send and put your phone down, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

That's when you heard a familiar voice. You looked up and saw Kaito standing there, a surprise that made your heart skip. It had been years since you last saw him. He was the one who had helped you escape from your ex's grip, the only person who had reached out to pull you from that nightmare.

“Hey..." he said, his voice warm but edged with worry. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You gestured to the empty seat beside you. “Sit. I could use the company.”

Kaito slid into the chair, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “You look... different. Is everything okay?”

The question was like a trigger, a floodgate that opened the dam of your emotions. You looked away, taking a deep breath. “It’s been... a rough week.”

He looked at you concerned, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he ordered a drink, and the two of you sat in silence for a while, before he broke the silence.

“I heard your ex went missing. I just wanted to check in...uh...make sure you’re alright. I know how much he hurt you.”

The mention of your ex was like a punch to the gut, the memory of that night resurfacing with cruel clarity. You struggled to keep your composure, taking a sip of your drink to steady yourself. “I... I don’t know what happened to him.”

Kaito’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. “I just wanted to make sure he’s not plotting anything or trying to reach you again. I know what he put you through.”

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. “Thank you...but seriously I don't know anything about him.”

Before Kaito could respond, your phone buzzed again. You glanced at it and saw a new message from Chuuya: “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

You were about to reply when Kaito’s voice broke through your thoughts. “ You okay? You seem a bit lost."

You forced a smile, brushing off the concern. “It’s nothing. I just needed a bit of air.”

You stood up, glancing at Kaito. “It was really nice seeing you after all tonight.”

You placed a few yen on the bar as a tip and offered Kaito a final, appreciative look before heading towards the door. Stepping out into the cool night air, you took a deep breath, hoping the walk would clear your head. Hearing the door swung shut behind you.

The crisp breeze brushed against your face as you began walking down the pavement, each step attempting to ground you in the present, you tried to focus on the rhythmic sound of your footsteps, letting the chill seep through your coat and numb your thoughts.

Just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the soothing cadence of the night, a familiar voice cut through the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. It was a voice you knew too well, one that you loved the most—Dazai’s.

Turning slowly, you saw him standing there, his figure framed by the dim streetlights.

“Out for a late-night stroll?” His voice was low and smooth so so smooth.

"Osamu" You whispered his name, barely audible over the street noise, as he approached you. His tall frame seemed to shield you from the harsh cold breeze that had been nipping at your skin.

His arms reached out, pulling you into a desperate, intense embrace. The warmth of his body pierced through the biting cold of the night. You closed your eyes, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his captivating perfume that you were addicted to.

“How are you feeling, my love?” the vibrations of his soft voice soothed you.

You murmured a reply, “Fine,” nuzzling your face into his warm chest. His coat offered a cocoon of comfort against the cold. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that both soothed and troubled you. His soft, cold lips brushed gentle kisses against your hairline, each touch leaving you wanting more.

Dazai’s gaze softened as he tilted your head gently, his fingers brushing against your cheeks with tender.

His lips, still cold from the evening air, found yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. The sensation was electric, a jolt of warmth that spread through you, making you forget the cold that had been clinging to you just moments before.

Your lips parted slightly, and you felt his bottom lip against yours, his kiss deepening as he traced a path of warmth across your mouth. His hands roamed softly over your body, every touch sending shivers down your spine.

When he pulled away, his eyes bore into yours filled with affection. “I’ve got a surprise for you, my love,” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips.

“A surprise?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper as your heart fluttered. The night’s chill seemed to dissipate as you gazed up at him, eager to discover what he had under his sleeve.

Dazai’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he said, “Follow me, my love.” He guided you through the city streets, leading you to his penthouse—an opulent space you were intimately familiar with. As you entered, the familiar strains of soft jazz filled the room, its soothing melodies filled your ears.

You shrugged off your coat and sank into the nearby couch, glancing up at him curious.

“You know how much I cherish you, don’t you?”

You nodded, a shiver running down your spine. What is he intending to do?

“And you remember when I swore to protect you with my life, back when we shared our first night together?” His eyes bore into yours, searching for affirmation.

Again, you nodded, feeling a knot of unease tightening in your stomach.

He reached out and took your hand, leading you to a door you had never entered before. He typed in a series of digits, and the door slid open with a soft whoosh. What lay beyond sent a jolt of shock through you: Kaito, tied up against the wall with chains, his eyes wide with fear.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you stared at the scene in disbelief.

Dazai’s gaze on you never wavered. “You recognize him, don’t you? The one who claimed to be your savior,” he said, his voice carrying an edge of derision. “Kaito, the one who helped you escape. Such a noble act, don’t you think?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at the sight before you. “No... no, this can’t be real,” you stammered, the words spilling from your lips in a disbelieving murmur. “This isn’t happening. Not again.”

Dazai stepped closer, his expression both smug and infuriatingly calm. “Isn’t it? How often have you been deceived by those who promised you protection and safety? This was no different.”

You shook your head, trying to process the absurdity of it all. “But Kaito—he was different! He helped me when I needed it most. You don't understand he's the only one who saved me from my ex.”

The disillusionment in your voice only seemed to amuse Dazai. “And you think that makes him any less of a threat? How easily you’ve been misled. Did you ever consider that he was simply another pawn in your ex’s game? A way to keep you within his reach?”

Your gaze shifted to Kaito, who was now looking at you with desperation. The realization that Dazai might be telling the truth hit you like a physical blow. “No, he can’t be. He was... he was kind to me. He never hurt me.”

Dazai’s gaze was unrelenting, his tone dripping with cold logic. “Kindness can be deceiving. Sometimes, it’s just a means to an end. Kaito’s actions were a calculated move, meant to keep you under control, to make you trust him while feeding information to your ex.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you faced Dazai, the weight of his words crushing you. “You’re... you’re insane! You can’t do this to me again. STOP IT STOP HURTING ME!”

Dazai’s hand reached up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were cold and unyielding, the warmth of his voice now a sharp contrast to the icy anger in his eyes. “I’m not insane. I’m showing you the truth, my love. Kaito was never your friend. If you don’t make a choice now, I will choose for you.”

The room seemed to close in around you, your heart pounding wildly. You were ensnared between the echoes of your past and the oppressive reality Dazai had crafted, desperately searching for an escape from the nightmare he had ensnared you in.

Dazai's lips curved into a passionate smile as he placed the cold, heavy gun into your trembling hands. The weapon, tainted with the blood of your ex, seemed to burn with its own malevolent energy. His eyes gleamed with a twisted sense of pride.

“Come on, my love,” he urged, his voice laced with a seductive intensity. “Take control of your own life. Show everyone that you’re not someone to be trifled with. Make them fear you. No one dares to hurt you again.”

His words echoed through the room, mingling with the suffocating tension that surrounded you. The weight of the gun felt like a cruel burden, a symbol of the power Dazai was forcing upon you.

As you looked at Kaito, bound and vulnerable, a storm of emotions raged inside you. Dazai’s gaze remained unwavering, his expectations clear: the choice was yours to make, but his influence loomed over every decision.

The gun felt like a leaden weight in your hands, the reality of the situation crashing down upon you. Tears streamed down your face as you crumpled, the gun slipping from your grasp and clattering to the floor. Your voice, choked with despair, broke through the oppressive silence.

“I can’t do this again... not again,” you sobbed, shaking your head furiously. You pulled your legs to your chest, curling up in a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the cruelty of Dazai’s demands.

Dazai’s expression shifted from steely determination to a weary sigh. With a resigned shake of his head, he stepped forward, reclaiming the gun from where it had fallen. His movements were deliberate, almost tender, as he aimed it at Kaito, who stared back in terror.

Three shots rang out, each one echoing with finality. The sound was deafening, reverberating through the room and drowning out your anguished cries. The finality of the act left you in stunned silence, your body trembling as you remained huddled on the floor, the gravity of what had just occurred sinking in.

“No... you didn’t...” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Your eyes were fixed on the lifeless form of Kaito, disbelief and anguish washing over you.

Dazai’s sigh was heavy with disappointment as he shook his head slowly. “I’m disappointed in you, my love,” he said, his voice carrying a cold edge. “You couldn’t take control of your life this time. You think I’m the one hurting you? They’re the ones who’ve been hurting you all along.”

His gaze was unwavering, a mixture of pity and resolve in his eyes as he stepped closer. “I did this to protect you from them, to ensure that you’re never vulnerable again. It’s always been about keeping you safe from those who would harm you. I did what was necessary to shield you from your past.”

You shook your head violently, the world around you spinning as you scrambled to your feet. Adrenaline surged through your veins, propelling you to the door. You flung it open and sprinted down the hall, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Where are you going my love, please come back.” His footsteps pounded after you. “Don’t do this. I love you! This is meaningless—everything I did was to protect you!”

But you couldn’t bear to hear him anymore. “I want to stay away from you!” you screamed, your voice cracking with raw desperation.

You burst out of his penthouse and into the cold night air, the chill biting at your exposed skin. Your vision blurred with tears, making the city lights shimmer and swirl. You fumbled for your phone, dialing Chuuya’s number with trembling fingers.

The line rang a few times before a sleepy voice answered, muffled by grogginess. “Chuuya...” you gasped between breaths. “I—I'm leaving. I—will run away from here. He did it again, Chuuya.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by Chuuya’s urgent voice, now fully awake. “Where are you? Are you safe? Just stay on the line. I’m coming to get you.”

Your voice trembled as you spoke into the phone, trying to keep your words steady despite the panic swelling inside you. “Chuuya, no… don’t come. Please. I don’t want you to get into trouble. I’ll… I’ll manage to get away by myself.”

Chuuya’s voice was firm and insistent. “Don’t be stupid. I’m coming. Just tell me where you are.”

You forced yourself to keep moving, trying to steady your breath despite the adrenaline coursing through you. “Chuuya, listen to me,” you said, your voice shaking. “I just called to let you know. I need you to stay out of this. It’s too dangerous. I can’t risk you getting hurt because of me.”

“I don’t like this at all. You’re obviously not okay. I need to be there with you.” You could hear the sounds of him hurriedly getting dressed in the background.

“I’m sorry, Chuuya, but I can't-” you said firmly.

Before he could protest further, you ended the call, the sound of the disconnect echoing in the quiet of the night.

You made your way through the winding streets, heading towards a nondescript building nestled away from prying eyes. It had been your refuge years before, a place where you could escape the chaos and find peace in solitude. Now, it was the final sanctuary you turned to as you prepared to leave everything behind.

The old studio was just as you remembered it—dusty but comforting, filled with the quiet hum of memories. You approached the closet where you had stored a suitcase, its worn exterior a testament to its many years of service. You opened it, the familiar smell of old leather and fabric greeting you.

With calculated movements, you began packing the clothes you’d kept from simpler times—soft sweaters, faded jeans, and a few cherished pieces that held fragments of your past. Each item you folded and placed into the suitcase carried a piece of who you used to be, the person you were before the mafia and before Dazai.

As you worked, the thought of leaving Dazai behind gnawed at you, filling you with an intense, suffocating agony. Despite everything he had done, the idea of severing ties with him was a painful wrenching of the heart. Yet, the realization that staying would only bring more torment drove you to continue, each movement of packing a silent affirmation of your resolve.

You zipped up the suitcase, the sound of the closure echoing in the empty room. The decision to leave the city and all its shadows behind was a heavy one, but necessary. With a final glance around the studio, you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the journey ahead. The train would take you far from this place, and despite the heartache, you knew it was the only way forward.

Before you could make another move, a voice cut through the silence of the studio. "My love, are you leaving me?" The words were laced with a deep sadness, sending a jolts all over your body.

You spun around, disbelief etched across your face. "How did you find me?" you demanded, your voice trembling.

Dazai stood in the doorway with a hurt expression written all over his face.

He stepped closer sighing, "The bracelet,” he said quietly, holding up your wrist to reveal the piece of jewelry you had thought was a mere token of affection given to you two years ago. “It has a tracker embedded in it. I had it activated in case you were ever in danger.”

The weight of his words hit you like a physical blow. The realization that he had been monitoring you all along, even in your attempts to escape, left you reeling. You stared at him, your resolve faltering but your heart aching with an overwhelming confusion.

“Why did you have to follow me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Why can’t you just let me go?”

He took another step closer, his gaze pleading. “Because I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I know you're probably thinking that I’m just some insane man who’s only hurting you. But you have to understand, my actions come from a place of deep love. I need you to see past the madness and understand how much you mean to me.”

"Is this how you show love, Dazai? By trapping me and manipulating me?" you said, your voice trembling. "You don't get to decide what's best for me by controlling every aspect of my life."

Dazai's expression softened, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “I know I’ve made mistakes. I’m twisted and flawed, but I thought... I thought that if I could keep you close, I could protect you from everything else. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You shook your head, the finality of your decision settling in. “You’ve hurt me more than you know. I can’t stay here. I can't stay anxious, wondering who you’ll force me to kill next.”

Dazai’s eyes grew darker, his voice tainted with desperation. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was protecting you. Everything I did was to keep you safe in comtrol of your own life, even if it means making terrible choices.”

You scoffed, “Safe? You forced me to kill my ex! And then Kaito?”

Dazai’s face tightened. “He was a traitor. He manipulated you all this time. I told you.”

“Even if!” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you think I wanted them dead? I never wanted any of this! You think you’re protecting me, but all you’re doing is turning my life into a nightmare, forcing me to make impossible choices.”

He reached out, but you flinched away. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice cracking with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I know I’ve gone too far. I only wanted to protect you, but I see now that I’ve lost sight of what’s right.”

The realization hit you hard. “Lost sight of what’s right? You’ve lost sight of everything that matters. I’m leaving, Dazai. I can’t stay here any longer.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with pain, that you've never seen before, “Please, don’t go. I’ll do anything to make this right. Just... stay and let me fix this.”

You shook your head, “It’s too late. I can’t trust you anymore. I need to get away from this life, from you. Goodbye, Dazai.”

Turning around you held the suitcase tightly, your hand shaking as you reached for the door. Just as you were about to open it, the sharp click of a gun safety being disengaged froze you in place.

You turned slowly, your eyes widening in horror as you saw Dazai standing there. The cold, manipulative mafia boss you had come to fear and loathe was now a broken man, his usual confident demeanor shattered. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the sweat of his desperate resolve.

The gun was pressed against his temple, his hand trembling slightly. His gaze was locked onto you, the anguish in his eyes more raw than you’d ever seen. The sight was a gut-wrenching contrast to the man you had known—this was not the calculating Dazai but a man at the edge of his sanity, driven to an extreme.

“Don’t... don’t do this,” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. “Dazai, put the gun down.”

His tears fell faster, “If you leave, I can’t bear it. I’d rather end it all than live with the fact that I lost you.”

You took a step toward him, the suitcase slipping from your grip as fear and heartbreak twisted inside you. “Dazai, please. Put the gun down. We can figure this out.”

His voice trembled, a fragile whisper on the brink of breaking. “I never valued life until you entered mine. If you choose to leave, then I too must follow.”

You rushed towards him, heart pounding with desperation. As you approached, you gently took the gun from his trembling hand, lowering it to the floor. His body crumpled, and he collapsed into your embrace, clutching you tightly as if afraid you might vanish.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” you whispered soothingly, your own voice trembling as you tried to calm him. You stroked his brunet soft hair gently, your heart aching as you held him close. “It’s okay. I’m here. We’ll figure this out together.”

His sobs were muffled against your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven as he clung to you. " I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry I'm sorry.”

You continued to soothe him, the weight of his despair pressing heavily on your chest. You could see through his anguish, past the facade of his calculated mind to the raw, broken man beneath. Even as his twisted personality had driven him to force your hand, there was no denying the genuine love he felt—a love that, despite its darkness, was deeply real.

The room, dim and cold, was filled with the sound of his muffled sobs, each breath a testament to his remorse and anguish. You held him tightly, trying to offer comfort, though your own heart ached with uncertainty. You knew too well the manipulative games he played, but in this moment, you could see the truth in him. His despair was not a ploy, but a genuine expression of his torment and love.

Gently, you reached up and removed the soaked bandage from his eye. His gaze locked onto yours, filled with a sorrow so profound it was almost unbearable. His face was etched with the pain of his past actions, and as you held him, you admired his beautiful brown eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw and fragile. “I’ll never do this again. I promise. I never wanted to hurt you. I was desperate, and I let my own twisted mind control me. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’ll do everything to make this right. Please... stay with me.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerable man who had been pushed to extremes. The cold dim room seemed to shrink around you, the shadows of his past mistakes lingering but overshadowed by his sincere apology. You took a deep breath, your own heart softening despite the pain.

“I’m here,” you whispered back, your voice was soothing him.

He nodded against your shoulder, his sobs gradually subsiding as he clung to you.

“Despite everything... despite your scheming and the cold, manipulative persona you put up, you have no idea how much I love you,” you whispered, the words heavy with the depth of your emotions.

Dazai’s eyes softened as he met your gaze, his voice trembling as he replied, “I love you too, my dear.”

With those words, he kissed you softly, his lips warm and tender against yours. The delicate caress of his kiss pulled you closer, making you surrender to the embrace he offered. In that fleeting moment, the outside world faded away, leaving only the solace of his arms and the twisted love you shared.

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raayllum · 3 months ago

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Been also thinking about the line between "the text wasn't meant to be interpreted this way but it's a solid reading / line of critique (with caveats)" (#1) versus "the text wasn't meant to be interpreted this way and doing so actively worsens the story they're trying to tell" (#2).

Going to do some TDP specific examples.

But basically: When your in-depth reading takes away from the Surface Level reading rather than providing contribution, that's usually a good sign you're going into a story with 1) an expectation or reading that was never promised or 2) are weakening the story through a typically unfounded analysis.

A TDP specific example is the relationship between Viren and Harrow. Canonically, textually, they had a brotherly relationship, both in the dialogue that Viren conveys ("I think of you as my brother" / "You're my brother") and in their persistent parallel framing with Callum and Ezran.

However, that doesn't stop many fans (myself included) from reading a romantic and sexual attraction between Viren and Harrow, especially in their youth. Not only do they just have the vibes, parallels to other couples, and subtext, Viren very much places Harrow's importance in his life in a way that's usually reserved for lovers. Viren having been in love (or ongoing) just makes sense. That doesn't mean any of us are expecting TDP to ever make it Canon — like I said, it's canonically very much Not that — but it does add a layer to Viren always wanting to 1) matter to Harrow as much as he does, and 2) his frustration and severance with Harrow because he wasn't getting the acceptance and affection that he wanted.

This is what I would consider #1 avenue: it doesn't take away from their dynamic, and to me adds a layer, but it allows the text to stand as is. Viren wants Harrow's love and attention in the gradual and then sharp deterioration of their dynamic. All I'm changing is a little bit of the why per my personal reading.

Meanwhile, if I went the route of "Yeah I know canon shows Harrow appreciating, taking Viren into account, and smiling at / loving him, but I don't think Harrow cared at all and he was just a bad friend to Viren for years" then... Yeah I could read it that way — it's not as though Harrow or Viren were hardly perfect friends to each other, and Harrow's discard of Viren is harsh (even if it was a long time coming in a lot of ways) — but what does that leave me with? Frustration, maybe; a poor view of Harrow; immense sympathy towards Viren? At best, I'd maybe resent how Viren learns the lessons Harrow was trying to teach him by paying for it with his life; at worst, I'd think the narrative was being fundamentally unfair to Viren without recognizing that his previous modes of self sacrifice were always couched in ego, shirking the immediate consequences of being saved, or that he was routinely willing to sacrifice everyone around him first, including his own children.

This is where we get into area #2, and I see it happen all the time with TDP, whether it's from the series not portraying monarchies as a bad thing or the ever persistent "issue" of dark magic. Quite frankly, it's silly to walk into TDP post-S1 expecting dark magic to be anything beyond — given all the current textual evidence — "morally complicated" magic at best. Yes it can be used for good things, but that doesn't automatically make it good, and while we could spin logistical wheels for ages, the Point the story is Making with dark magic is about power, desperation, love, self-destruction, violation, and agency, and how all those things can overlap or counteract each other. Toting out "well I think dark magic is blanket statement Okay and Good actually" misses all of that, and actively makes your reading and experience with TDP worse. The surface level reading is important to take into account when examining a piece of media, otherwise it can lead to a very warped view and effect your ability to be well founded in your reading of the text.

That doesn't mean you can't desire a more morally neutral form of dark magic — plenty of fantasy series and stories have it, and some I adore (like "the legend of Zelda" — but it does mean accepting the story is never going to broadly speaking do that, and it's Okay that it won't. I'd be silly if I walked into LOZ expecting them to get into the ethics of its form of (non) dark magic of using monsters for spell parts because it's 1) a game mechanic and 2) it's not interested in the ethics of it, and no amount of me saying "well it should be" will change that, nor is it a Story Flaw that it doesn't.

This is all to say that I think asking "Why would the writers do this?" is one of the most useful, if basic, questions to ask when it comes to analysis and when figuring out whether your viewpoint is falling into avenue #1 of being grounded, or avenue #2 of veering towards warped territory.

For example, if I take Rayla not being by Callum's side when he's struggling over the pearl reveal in 6x06 as an indicator she doesn't care about him, I'm doing a deep dive that ignores all the very Surface Level emphasized scenes of Rayla caring about and supporting Callum a whole lot. I could make the claim she doesn't care based on that scene, but it wouldn't be well founded because it's ignoring miles of other much more prevalent, consistent scenes of her being there for him; it's not a well founded claim.

For something less obvious, let's look at 5x08. While Callum could've given Finnegrin the wrong spell on purpose, as some fans have thoughtfully proposed, as a sneaky wink for die hard fans... why would the authors do that? What does the story gain from that reading or intention? Well, it makes it seem like Callum was less desperate in his dealings with Finnegrin, which makes him doing dark magic afterwards come off worse. It also lessens the battle Callum has throughout that episode for feeling in control and recognizing that he can't always be. It's a reading that, in my opinion, not only strays away from the surface level reading, but is one removes elements from the text that the text would otherwise be stronger for having. In comparison, after all, if Callum gave his version of the right spell without thinking it through, he did so entirely out of desperation, which better affirms just how desperate and worn down he had to be to do dark magic, and is another instance in the episode of him feeling very much out of control (especially since we don't see the 3rd with dark magic on screen, so otherwise, we'd only have him punching Finnegrin as an example and nothing else).

Same thing with the old (now debunked) theory of Callum's bio dad being elven in nature. It's an interesting idea, exploring the implications and backstory and how'd grapple with it, but it'd weaken what canon is actively striving for, which is that Callum's magic use is special precisely because he's an ordinary human who's gained primal magic, and having elven ancestry would counteract that. It doesn't mean that the idea isn't a Good one or that it's not fun to explore in fanon, but there's a lot of reasons the story isn't (or decided not to) have it be canon, because it was stronger for the story they Wanted to tell for it not to be.

Sometimes, as fans this means acknowledging that what we want or prefer in a story is just blatantly not what's being set up, because the story is going to do things regardless of what we want or personally like. That doesn't mean those decisions are bad, and it also doesn't mean those elements or decisions or constructions are beyond critique, but it does mean to ask yourself some key questions:

Is there anything my reading is missing? (ie. if TDP shouldn't have monarchs and that's the critical focus, we lose the messages about leadership, family, and legacy that are engaged with through the vessel of hereditary monarchy)

Why might the story or scene go in certain directions? Are there story constraints (time, tone, etc) they have to abide by?

Am I expecting the story to ascribe to my worldview or preference, and am I open to things that don't do that? If yes, why? If no, why not?

Is my in-depth takeaway aligned with a surface level reading? Are both readings working together, or are they opposed? What other surface level readings might be plausible here for a casual viewer?

Even if this is not personally compelling and/or believable to me, does my personal takeaway match up with the characters' responses to it? Why or why not? (Think every Disney movie where they fall in love in 3 days. Realistic? No. Does it matter within the context of the story? Also no)

Again, this is not to say that 1) what the casual takeaway Is is an objective singular monolith (it isn't) or 2) if the casual takeaway and your interpretation is at odds that you're wrong. But through context clues, we can usually narrow it down as to what the story intends, and that if our interpretations do veer heavily to examine why and to manage expectations accordingly.

Anyways hopefully this all made sense Viren x Harrow forever

#the english major strikes again #tdp #tdp meta #the dragon prince #analysis series #analysis

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aishabbbb · 10 months ago

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You're just so cute!

Part 2

Strawhats x Affectionate! Reader

Can be read romantically or platonically(except for Chopper! He is platonic.)

Enies Lobby mentions for Robin, but nothing spoiler worthy.

Characters: Chopper, Robin, Franky, and Brook

CHOPPER

We already know how he is with compliments😭

Will insult anyone who does

He just gets sooo embarrased.

But that doesn't mean anything to you.

So he has to get his A game on.

"You have Luffy's smartness!" "You are even more unfunny than Brooks jokes" "How are you more of a crybaby than Franky?"

"You smell worse than Zoro." "You're eyes are creepier than Robins!" "Why does Nami has less anger issues than you?!"

Ends up insulting the whole crew just to get you to knock it off.

But these attacks don't work so he stops them(Nami, Franky, and Usopp get mad at him for dragging them.)

He will never get used to them fully. But you can praise him without him immediately insulting you.

Once in a blue moon he might just accept it.

But that is rare.

Feels happy when you notice things others do not.

He likes praises from you as much as from Robin.

ROBIN

She is an enigma.

You cannot tell how she takes it.

She always gives the same response: a gentle smile and a thank you.

That is the extent you witness

But her head is always going haywire

Before Enies lobby she feels like you wouldn't be saying this if you knew her backstory.

She doesn't blame you, just can't believe it is actually genuine out of insecurity.

After enies lobby, at first she might think you don't again mean it because it might be out of sympathy.

But she realizes quickly that it is truthful.

She genuinely appreciates every compliment you give her after that realization.

Like Nami, she loves when you praise her character because being known as a demon child and evil since the age of 8 does wonders on ones self esteem.

She will still think she is somewhat undeserving, but her confidence and self esteem build up over time.

She will reciprocate any praise back.

When she doesn't actively try to compliment you, the praise is beautiful.

But when she is actively trying, they come off as kind of creepy.

Think Ishigami noticing Chika's Shampoo.

She will act exactly like Ishigami if you say that it is creepy(but say she wants to die in her head.)

Do not blame her she is trying!

FRANKY

Lets be real. He is the complimentor of the strawhats.

You can't compete where you can't compare.

When you start your complimenting campaign, he takes it as a competition.

If you praise someone, he comesback with two. If you point something out no one else noticed in your crewmate, he actually noticed first because he raised them, taught them to read, and gave birth to them.

You two always get into compliment battles. You say he is cool, well you are not just cool but awesome. If you think he is the best shipwright, well now you are the most SUPER best (crew job) in the world!

You just yell at each other, but instead of insults, it is just nice things. Nami has to threaten you two to shut up.

Yall get stares if you do this in public

You get annoyed with his antics, so you curate a plan to get him to stop.

We all know he can be a bit of a crier(he just has a lot of feelings.)

So you keep track of why he cries everytime, trying to find a pattern.

You find his weakspot.

"Franky, you are honestly such a good peeaon. I wish you were my older brother. You'd be the best brother in the world."

Cue water works.

He cannot respond to you other than a thank you and a weak compliment back.

But it is clear to anyone that you won.

This doesn't stop any compliment battles though.

BROOK

Other than Luffy, he is the only one that doesn't reject the praise at first for some reason.

From the jump is chill about it and appreciates it.

This makes it easier for you.

But you have to put up with so many jokes.

I'm sorry I cannot do skeleton jokes, so I got these off of google

"Wow you are always so calm Brook!" "That's because nothing gets under my skin! YOHOHOHOHOOOOO!!!"

"You can play any type of music! Wow!" "But not church music." "Why not?" "Because I have not Organs! Yohoho!"

😐

Listen, i never said you won't have ANY difficulties.

He isn't as insecure as others but it still makes his self esteem better.

The praise makes him more confident in himself.

After being alone for so long, he deserves all the praise

He shows off his musical skills to you a lot kore than anyone else since who doesn't want to hear thet are the Shit.

#one piece fluff #one piece x reader #tony tony chopper #nico robin x reader #robin x reader #franky x reader #brook x reader #brook one piece

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viburnt · 11 months ago

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Divorcing Izuku Midoriya Headcanons

I'm on a creative rush, and this may make zero sense because I'm tired lmao. Anyways, have some angst <3

Tagging the babes: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @trickster-kat @angelshimaa (babe, you've missed some very angsty posts) @xhieru @mimisxs @dabislittlemouse

Content Warning: Divorce, emotional abuse and manipulation, mention of baby-trapping, alcohol.

• As I said in my last post, divorcing Izuku is a nightmare. Think about the most energy-draining and mental health deteriorating process, and multiply it for a minimum of 6 months. Izuku won't make things easy for you at all, trying to drag and prolong the whole ordeal just to keep you close. I've divided this set of headcanons by key moments/topics to keep some order. I hope you enjoy them, I'm pouring my heart on these (also pay attention to detail because I'm working on something hehe).

Denial and confusion: the first days after you serve him papers

• Izuku genuinely doesn't understand why you want to leave, refusing to accept the fact that you're not happy being by his side. He's given you all there is to give: a comfortable house, nice clothes, expensive cars, etc. So when you serve him papers, Izuku's first reaction is confusion followed by fear. In that head of his, he's made everything a good husband has to do! So why? Why would you not be happy?

• If you were smart enough and planned your movements with care, you should be able to go through your divorce without depending financially on Izuku or having to live in the same place. You'd have to deal with his incessant calls and texts, often having to block unknown numbers to avoid hearing his whines, but it'd be less difficult. If you weren't thoughtful about the situation and proceeded without the right steps, oh, you're in for a treat: there's nowhere you can go besides the house you shared with him, no place where you can be at peace. You're at Izuku's mercy, like it or not, but that's another story.

• In addition to his denial, Izuku starts to (unconsciously) guilt trip you. Phrases like "Sorry for not being enough," and "I know I'm very pathetic" become frequent. It pains your heart to hear those things because you know Izuku loves you, you are just not compatible at all. You try to let him see it's not about being enough, it's more about effort; with much patience, you set things clear to avoid any misunderstandings, but Izuku just doesn't get it.

• "Haven't I done this or that for you? Didn't I buy you all these things? Am I not enough?" "Izuku, I didn't ask you for any of this, all I wanted was my husband..." Conversations like this occur during this phase, and they can only be held through the phone (when he is sober and not yelling/hollering how much of a mistake a divorce would be). He tries to gauge sympathy from you, telling you that his job is important but that he loves you so much!

• He becomes an empty shell of the bright ray of sunshine the public knew. It goes unnoticed by many, but the people who work around him can tell. It is then when he starts telling others about his marital situation, and you end up seeing faces you've met once or twice during galas or hero events. You "accidentally" stumble across your husband's colleagues, like Ochako, who try to convince you to give him a second chance. "I- I know we don't know each other a lot but please, consider it. Izuku is a great guy a-and I'm sure you guys could fix any problem!" It is embarrassing for you because no one wants people to know their issues.

• What's so ironic about the moment when you serve him papers is that he receives them at his office, the very root of all the problems in your marriage. It was the place where he had spent anniversaries, birthdays, Valentine's... those four walls witnessed the beginning and the end of your relationship. Izuku has a mental breakdown when he finally reads the documents but, hey, he was still pro-hero Deku, right?

Negotiations and lawyers: The first weeks and months

• If having to deal with Izuku's colleagues trying to change your mind wasn't enough, be ready for your soon-to-be ex trying to negotiate. Midoriya suggests couple's therapy to talk this through, and for a split of second, it almost sounds like a good idea! But then you remember all those times when Izuku had promised you he'd be there for you and failed. It didn't seem plausible after that... Besides, all things considered, it'd be hard to find a therapist who could see your side of the story. Who would dare to tell someone as charming and popular as Izuku that he failed as a husband?

• Once therapy is off the table, Izuku brings up children. It may be considered a low blow, especially if one of your dreams was to form a family with him, so his offer felt cruel. "W-we can have kids! Wouldn't you want that? We can be a big family, with one- No, two babies!" "Ouch, it takes a divorce for you to even think about it, huh? That's uh, slightly concerning. Besides, a kid needs a father too... I'm not planning on being a single mom in this marriage" Now, Izuku strikes me as the kind that would try to . to stay. I'm sorry if it sounds terrible, but considering how sometimes he acts on impulse, he really could try it.

• Izuku also tries to be at home more often; he "cooks" (it's takeout disguised as home meals), brings you coffee to the bed, and calls you all kinds of sappy nicknames... It saddens you, why couldn't he care like that before? Of course, this point only applies if you still live with him during this whole process. If you don't, he starts frequenting the places where he guessed could find you: cafeterias, plazas, shops...

• Finding a lawyer for you was a hard task, especially because everyone sees you as a "dumb" woman who is trying to divorce Japan's number one hero. Not to mention they were very expensive, and Izuku was certainly not giving you money for that. You tell Izuku that mediations need to happen to progress with the divorce, but he never shows up to the meetings. There's always an excuse for that man! No matter how much you plea, he refuses to sign the paper. Izuku also becomes very mean towards you, outright berating you for not understanding him. It's gruesome to see him turn into such a monster during these months.

• As an additional point for this part, Izuku hires a private investigator to follow you around. He feels bad for thinking of it, but the idea that you could be seeing someone else while you're trying to divorce him eats him alive.

Last resort: Mediatic battle

• The media is very quick to pick up your marriage's fall down. Time after time you visited your lawyer's office for them to put two and two together, and Izuku takes that to his advantage. Sensationalist articles had already been happening, a lot of them being cruel and demeaning towards you. Titles like "Is she a cheater?" "No amount of success gives you the girl!" And "Pro-hero Deku will be looking for a new wife soon" started popping up. You have to take down any social platform to avoid being targeted.

• It is when Izuku gives a public declaration that things get worse. "I'm sorry, my wife is just not happy with me anymore. Please respect her wish! Don't harass her, I failed as a husband." It may seem like a hearty and sorrowful declaration from the outside, but Izuku picked word by word to gain sympathy and pressure you into changing your mind. People in the street call you "heartless", and the stress simply keeps growing for you.

• To put it in simple words, you were David against Goliath, except Goliath was a glorified person who had all the resources and support of the people. You were nothing but a tiny mouse squeaking to be set free of a relationship that was suffocating you.

The aftermath: Supposing you haven't given up and he signed the divorce papers

• If you somehow manage to divorce him after all these problems, congratulations. You survived 5% of the drama that awaits you! Now you won't be able to date someone without people snapping photos for entertainment news or judging you for leaving "such a great man". Izuku will still try to convince you to go back to him, playing his "sad lover" role in front of the cameras so well! He'll try to send expensive gifts and tell you to keep the house, he'll call you drunk in the middle of the night, and if you're not careful enough, he may try to gaslight you into thinking nothing wrong was happening in your marriage.

• One particular thing I must mention is that Izuku only signed the papers after you yelled at him at one of the legal mediations, hot embarrassment tears falling from your tired eyes as you begged him to let you go.

• Anyways, the list could go on, but those are the main points of divorcing Izuku :')

"Please, just sign the papers..." You said through the phone, your voice tired of pleading to someone who simply refused to hear you. "I will, I will! I'm just a little under the snow with work. Can you reschedule?" Izuku said, apologizing for not being there for you. Excusing himself for failing you, but refusing to let go. "You know how many articles I've seen with my face saying how much of bitch I am for visiting my lawyer's office?"

Izuku's silence was deafening, you could only hear him sigh slightly, perhaps feeling bad for putting you in such a position. "I don't want this divorce."

"But I do, so don't make things more difficult for me, please." He heard you say, biting his lip to hold back the tears. Izuku was glad you couldn't see him, sitting alone in his office with a half-empty bottle of wine you'd gifted him for his birthday. "Do you remember what day is today?" He asked.

"I don't know, Monday? I haven't slept lately." You answered unamused. "It's our anniversary... we married 5 years ago, on this very day." His words came out as a slow slur, his breath hitching as he crumbled through the phone. "I miss you a lot, please-"

"I'll see you on Wednesday, if you're not there I swear to God..."

...

"Mr. Midoriya?" Your lawyer called, her voice bringing your anxious husband back to reality. "Ah, sorry, it's me. Is... is she in there?" He asked, pointing at her office. She just looked at him with little sympathy and nodded. "On time, as always. Maybe you should avoid keeping her waiting, that's the least you could considering how many times we've had these conversations."

"There's no way I can fix this, is there?" Izuku asked as if the lawyer cared. "Wanna do something nice for her? Divorce her."

#my hero academia #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #deku angst #izuku midoriya angst #divorced Au! Yeah I think Im gonna make a whole Au #I need a nap #Feedback is appreciated

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makeitmingi · 10 months ago

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The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 11]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.3K

You tilted your head, staring at the bouquet that was now sitting in a glass vase on your counter top.

"Staring at it isn't going to make it grow legs and walk, darling." Seonghwa chuckled from behind you. You rolled your eyes, straightening up and turning to walk to the fridge. You grabbed a tray out and put it on the island.

"I'm still in shock, Hwa. A little empathy or even sympathy would be greatly appreciated. I've never gotten flowers from anyone before." You said.

"Wow...."

"You don't count." You hissed. You grabbed another tray from the fridge. But this one was covered with aluminium foil.

"What are you trying?" Seonghwa rounded the counter and came back to where you were, peering over your shoulder. You removed the foil to show him the second tray.

"I'm trying to see if I prefer the flavour of a dry brine compared to a wet brine for monk fish." You explained.

"Because it's meatier and tougher?" He tilted his head. You nodded.

"Usually for fish, we use a wet brine but since monk fish is so firm and can act like chicken or red meat, I was thinking if a dry brine might enhance the flavour a little more." You said. You took the pieces of fish out of the flavoured water, patting it dry between two pieces of kitchen roll.

"What's in the dry brine?" Seonghwa asked, taking a brush to help you brush off the salt seasoning mix on the surface of the fish. He wasn't going to wash it or it would get rid of too much flavour.

"One has salt, white pepper, kombu, dried shiitake. The other has salt, black pepper, rosemary, thyme, bay leaf, garlic and a hint of sweet paprika."

"Not smoked?" He turned to you.

"No, as much as I wanted a herbier, heavy flavour combination, I didn't want to overpower the flavour of the fish." You shrugged.

"Good choice. Especially since the monk fish can be sweet, it only enhances the natural sea water flavour that's already there." Seonghwa hummed.

"How should I cook it without impacting the flavour...?" You scratched your head.

"Ooh, you're making me think of a monk fish curry now." Seonghwa smiled, almost drooling at the thought.

"I said I don't want to impart any of flavours, Hwa. If we make a curry, all the dry brine flavour will be overpowered." You slapped his arm. In the end, you decided to lightly steam half of them and pan sear the other half. Seonghwa helped you manage the pan.

"As much as we should, we shouldn't baste it. Even butter will affect the taste." Seonghwa said. You agreed. When the fish came out, you left it to rest for a few minutes.

"So, you want to talk about that?" Seonghwa nodded over to the vase of flowers you were looking at.

"What's there to talk about except why did you put it in a vase?" You raised an eyebrow.

"You just left it on the table, sweetheart. They'll die if you just leave it like that, you have to put them in some water to let them survive." He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, so you're the flower expert now?" You asked.

"We're digressing here... Tell me what he said to you when he gave you the flowers." He said.

"I already told you. He wanted to 'cheer me up' and give me energy so he got me sunflowers. And he thought sugary sweets would also do the trick so he got me donuts, which were rather tasty, by the way. I'll be curious to try more flavours from the shop." You shrugged and took the tray of fish to start slicing.

"And what did you reply to that?"

"I said thanks and split the donuts with him. You know I don't eat sugary things much... What else was there for me to say or respond to him?" You questioned.

"Well, I guess it's the first time he's seen you in your... grumpy tantrum mode..." Seonghwa sighed.

"I wasn't grumpy and/or throwing a tantrum." You frowned.

"Sweetheart, there was a literal dark cloud floating above your head." Seonghwa chuckled. You glared at him with a small pout before focusing back on slicing the fish pieces.

"Okay but that's all? You didn't say anything else?" Seonghwa went back to the topic.

"Oh. I... patted him on the head..." You said, remembering your actions. Seonghwa's eyes widened before he burst out laughing at your words. You sent him a flat look for laughing at you. You ignored him and put the fish slices on plates.

"HE'S NOT A LITERAL DOG, (Y/N)!" He exclaimed amidst his laughter. You felt your cheeks heat up at his words.

"I know! I didn't mean to, I don't know what came over me so I just reached out to pat his head. It's not my fault he caught me as I was snoozing." You muttered.

"Still... You must have surprised him." He laughed, wiping a tear that had formed in the corner of his eye.

"Now that you're done laughing at me. Here." You handed Seonghwa a fork with gritted teeth. You both dug into the fish, quietly tasting and savouring each one for their different tastes.

"Oh, wow." You were amazed.

"The different dry brines bring out such different flavours." Seonghwa said as he chewed.

"Between the dry brines, the delicate seasoning of the kombu one fits steaming method while the heavier seasoning benefits from the pan sear." You noted.

"I think because the pan sear toasts the herb flavour on there like how we usually toast our herbs to bring out the aromatic oils. So after searing this piece, you taste a lot more rosemary, thyme and paprika." Seonghwa theorised. You nodded your head, writing all this down in your iPad journal.

"It takes on more flavour with the dry brines. But the texture is softer with the wet brine." Seonghwa took another piece.

"I think the dry brine has been able to remove more moisture so it's firmer in texture. If serving on it's own, I would like the dry brine. In stews or curries, wet brine for sure." You concluded.

"Should we do something with monkfish for tomorrow's dinner service then?" He suggested.

"Lotte à l'Armoricaine (French tomato based stew cooked with white wine and monkfish)?" You looked through your recipe archives.

"Good idea. Since it is served with rice. I think customers will like that." Seonghwa nodded, moving to start on the dishes. You took a piece of paper to write this down.

"The supplier said he has some nice pears so shall we make baesuk for dessert (Korean poached pears)?"

"Yeah. What will you poach them in?" He asked.

"If we go Korean inspired, I think a light honey, ginger poaching liquid. Maybe add some pink peppercorns instead of black peppercorns for a more berry-like flavour. We can accompany it with yuja sherbet and candied ginger." You said.

"That sounds good."

"I think we should do burgers tomorrow. Cheese stuffed burgers with bacon on top and caramelised onions. Koreans love burgers and fries." Seonghwa laughed.

"That doesn't sound too bad though. But I'd hate to be the one stuck on deep fryer duty." You cringed.

"We should do at least one savoury dish that has Korean flavours." Seonghwa reminded.

"Hmm... Scallop, kombu angel hair with perilla oil? It's light on the taste buds." You scrunched your nose, trying to come up with a dish and flavour profile.

"That'll work. I was thinking for appetisers, we can do mussammari (Julienned vegetables wrapped in a thin slice of pickled radish) with a gochujang sauce." He finished the dishes and sat with you.

"I like that. We can grill pork collar with salsa verde. And beef carpaccio with brine tomatoes and shredded shiso leaf." You turned to him. Seonghwa thought about the flavour profiles and nodded while you wrote it down. If Wooyoung and Jongho wanted to add other dishes, they were free to. Any of them could.

You put the paper aside, leaning back against Seonghwa's shoulder. Tomorrow's morning bake items had already been decided so you didn't need to brainstorm on what to bake.

"Tired?" Seonghwa asked.

"Not physically. But my brain is, I think it's fried." You sighed, closing your eyes.

"You don't need to tire yourself out so much. Don't think and overthink too much. It'll only lead to faster burnout." He said as his hands massaged your achy ones.

"I know..." You said.

"Hwa?" You called out. He hummed in reply.

"You don't have to always take care of me and watch out for me, okay? You have to make sure that you take care of yourself too." You told him.

"I know." He replied, reply identical to yours. He knew you always felt guilty that he was constantly taking care of you, especially because you're known to not take care of yourself. But Seonghwa didn't see it as an obligation to care for you, he just wants to.

"Don't feel guilty or bad. You take care of me too, (y/n). We take care of each other, it's what we do and what we have been doing since we've met." He said.

"But you take care of me so much more."

"It doesn't matter who does more, you shouldn't worry about that. We're best friends. No one is measuring." Seonghwa chided.

"I just don't want to hold you back from anything. Like you said, we're best friends. And I would want you to venture out and do what you want to do, what's best for you." You sighed.

"What I want to do is be here with you. My best is being by your side. You're not holding me back." He comforted.

"Sure? Promise me that if I am, you tell me." You looked up at him.

"I'm sure. And as silly as that is, fine, I promise." He said. You held up your pinky and he chuckled but laced pinkies with you, stamping it to seal the deal.

"Tch, we've been glued together for so many years and you're still worried about all this. I already told you the day that we met that you're not getting rid of me so easily. That's why we never had any other friends growing up, except each other." Seonghwa playfully scolded you, flicking you on the forehead.

"Oww!" You held the place his flicked. Seonghwa clicked his tongue, knowing you were exaggerating. He didn't even hit you with so much force. He would never actually hurt you.

"So technically, you admit you're the reason I was a loner growing up?" You raised your eyebrows in accusation.

"You weren't a loner. You were with me and that's more than enough." He scoffed.

"That's true. You always made sure I wasn't left alone, Hwa." You giggled. You couldn't really remember a time where you and Seonghwa were apart.

Sure, you weren't spending every waking minute together but you've both never really let the other person feel lonely.

"Alright, it's time for an afternoon nap." You stood up, stretching your arms over your head.

"Shall I order Vietnamese food for dinner? I know you've been craving it." Seonghwa said. You were not shocked at this point that Seonghwa remembered something that you casually said in passing. You nodded your head excitedly.

"Yes. I would like bun bo hue (spicy beef noodle soup), pork tau hu ky (fried beancurd skin rolls with pork filling) and lemongrass pork please." You ordered.

"Okay." Seonghwa took it down.

"What are you having?" You asked as you laid down in bed, getting under the covers. Seonghwa took the spot beside you.

"My usual, bun rieu cua (tomato, crab and pork noodle soup). And some other sides to add on." He said, scrolling on the menu. You hummed, snuggling into your pillow.

Seonghwa has a large appetite so you could usually order a variety of food and he'll help you with finishing them.

"Go to sleep." Seonghwa put his phone down, turning to you. You hummed again, already starting to drift off. Seonghwa was always encouraging you to sleep more since you've had insomnia for as long as you can remember. It could build up and lead to you sleeping for a few days. Hence, you being sleep deprived the other day.

"Hwa, it doesn't mean anything, right?" You asked, half asleep.

"What?" He was confused by your question and what you were referring to all of a sudden.

"The flowers... He's just nice, right? I shouldn't be mulling over it or thinking that it means anything more." You clarified. Seonghwa was quiet for a while.

"If he meant something else, I'm sure he would have said it. Yunho wouldn't do one thing and mean another." He said.

"You sure?"

"We've known the guy for a like two weeks, (y/n). There's nothing really to be sure about when we barely know him. I'm just stating based off intuition and observation so far." He chuckled.

Yunho smiled stiffly as he sat at the table with his parents and younger brother at their family favourite steakhouse. He wasn't listening to their conversation at all, only plastering a smile but his mind was elsewhere.

"Hyung, what's up with you? Your head is in the clouds." Yunho's younger brother, Gunho, teased. Yunho sighed, his head wasn't in the clouds, just focused on something else.

Or rather, someone else.

"Is it work, Yunho? Something with the restaurant?" His mother asked. Yunho shook his head.

"No. It's nothing, don't worry about it. Sorry for not paying attention." He bowed his head, cutting into his steak and taking a bite.

"Which reminds me, we should pop by for dinner one of these days. You know, to support hyung." Gunho suggested to the two. It was true, Yunho's family had not visited since the opening.

"That's a good idea. But we don't want to pressure you, Yunho. We'll go when you're ready." His father smiled.

"Thanks, appa. I'm confident in my team. So please, when you're all available." Yunho smiled. His father was a lawyer and his mother was an accountant. Yunho knew that they were always trying to make up for the fact that they were never around while the two were growing up. But Yunho never really blamed them.

Them being busy also meant that Yunho was able to form such a deep and rich bond with his grandmother. And that was something Yunho would never, ever regret.

"That is exciting, I can't wait to see how things are." Mrs Jeong said with a big grin.

"As long as you're not helping out in the kitchen, hyung." Gunho snorted, making Yunho glare at his younger brother.

"I'm a lot better now. I'm slowly learning small things to help out in the kitchen. My head chef is always ready to teach me." Yunho rolled his eyes.

"Oh, tell us about him." Mr Jeong said in interest.

"Her, actually. She's an amazing chef, the whole team is. They work well together and you can tell when you watch them. It is almost like watching an orchestra play." Yunho explained.

"They must have been working together for a long while then." Mrs Jeong said.

"Yeah, they've known each other for a long time to know each other's likes, dislikes, work habits, skills, everything. I think you will be just as impressed by them as I was when you come to the restaurant." Yunho smiled proudly.

"That's good, Yunho. I'm glad you found a team that can work well not only amongst themselves but with you and your friends too. Good job." Mr Jeong commended.

"Thanks, appa. I couldn't have done it without my friends as well, especially Mingi." Yunho chuckled.

"Ah, you and Mingi hyung are inseparable as always." Gunho said.

"We just went to his mother's restaurant the other day to eat and see how she is doing. She sounded so happy that her son is working in the food industry too." Mrs Jeong giggled.

Of course with Mingi and Yunho being best friends since middle school, their parents were also close friends.

"San's father was proposing a fishing trip for all the fathers soon." Mr Jeong laughed.

"The mothers should take a trip too while the fathers go fishing. You all deserve it." Yunho said, glad that his parents were friends with his friends' parents. Mrs Jeong smiled softly, her son was always so caring and considerate of others. Mr Jeong nodded in agreement, raising his glass to clink it against Yunho's.

"But Yunho, I take it the restaurant has been well?"

"Yes. Business has been going well and we've been receiving lots of compliments and good reviews despite being so new. I pray it'll only go up from here." Yunho said.

"We know you can do it. If you ever need any help, you know you can always ask us." Mr Jeong said.

"I know, I am very grateful for that. But I hope to not rely on both of you, I want to be independent in this." Yunho spoke firmly.

"You're right, that's a good thing to want." Mrs Jeong reached over to pat the back of Yunho's hand. Yunho nodded his head with a hum, holding his mother's hand.

"However, you should make sure to have some time for yourself. Find a girlfriend." Mrs Jeong added.

"O-Omma!" Yunho stuttered nervously.

"Aren't you just gonna marry Mingi hyung?" Gunho laughed. Yunho kicked Gunho under the table, too flustered to respond back to the teasing. Yunho's mother was always invested in Yunho's love life, encouraging him to 'venture out' and find a partner.

"Dear, he's too busy running the restaurant. He doesn't have time to find a partner now." Mr Jeong said, taking a bite of his food. Yunho agreed with his father.

"Plus, I'm not in a rush to find a girlfriend, omma..." Yunho muttered.

"I can only dream, can't I? Both you and Gunho don't have girlfriends, I want a daughter to pamper and do girl things with."

"What sort of girl things?" Yunho asked.

"Oh, you know. We can go shopping, do mani pedis together, go get our hair done, all that stuff you can do with a daughter. You boys never want to do anything with me." Mrs Jeong scoffed.

"Omma, sounds like you have your own motive in wanting us to get a girlfriend." Gunho pointed out.

"Of course I want you both to be happy too! Who knows, maybe Yunho can settle down and start a family." She said.

"Alright, I think we're thinking a little far here, omma. Who knows if I'm going to settle down with the next person I date? But anyway, I'm currently focused on getting the restaurant up and running before looking for a partner." Yunho spoke. Honestly, he hadn't thought about settling down or starting a family.

"Like I said, I can only dream." Mrs Jeong sighed dispairingly.

"Look, omma, when the time comes and I meet the right person, then I'll start thinking about all that." Yunho said, trying to somewhat appease his mother.

"Sorry to say hyung, but you can be a little... how do you say? Oblivious when it comes to girls." Gunho snickered.

"What do you mean? I'm not oblivious." Yunho said.

"When a girl tries to flirt with you, you always think it's just her being a nice person in general. Meaning, you don't flirt back or reject her. You're too impartial to everyone you meet." Gunho explained.

"It's good to be impartial. And being nice isn't a bad thing, Gunho ah." Yunho crossed his arms.

"But you never know, someone might misunderstand your kindness as something else. Let's hope your future girlfriend doesn't get jealous."

Series masterlist

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henrysglock · 4 months ago

Text

Finally, More NINA Puzzle Pieces

DISTRESSED NOISES!! WE GOT NINA CRUMBS!! AND IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE!!

IT HAS THE CAMERA!!! AT LEAST ONE VERSION OF REALITY HAS THE CAMERA!!!!!

Okay so remember when I pointed this out about the NINA discrepancies in El's 4.05 entrance, and how there were at least 22 different iterations of events?

Specifically this glaring difference between reality (tapes) and the rest of the 4.05 entrance (labeled 3 and 8)?

The presence of a camera in a UD-ified version of HNL tells us that the bottom row of images straight up cannot physically exist in one cohesive reality.

Which is to say—Anything that does not have the camera is 100%, definitely, concretely not based in the UD's reality/those versions without the camera are either fake or set in a different reality.

If you've been following along this past year and a half, this is not news to you; it's just confirmation of what we already knew.

It does, however, means that none of this was based in reality:

We already kind of knew that, based on the props changing so much within the Rainbow Room each time/Henry's changing hair/etc, but the confirmation goes crazy insane. We love to see it.

After the first entrance to NINA/after we see the footage of the version with the camera, we don't see a non-camera version again. Any non-camera versions seem to disappear. This means whatever simulation El's stuck in, it's adaptive. It learns, with a propensity for making itself immersive by molding itself to to the subject's understanding of reality.

However, what fucks me up is that all of these are, then, set in the same "reality":

Which means the new ST5 UD-ified HNL, the physical camera footage of 1979, Henry's electrocution, Blood Hands El, El running to the Rainbow Room, and Brenner running to the Rainbow Room are all supposedly set in "reality".

That's not possible, though. The electrocution scene cannot have existed in reality/could not possibly be a memory, because 14 year old El is barely tall enough to see in. 1979 El would not have been tall enough to have seen interaction:

This means that none of NINA is reliable. Period. Even the things that appear to be set in reality are unreliable re: what actually happened in 1979.

Whatever NINA runs on, it's adaptive and manipulative. It's like c.ai, if c.ai was actually AI. Whatever it is, it takes El's experiences both in the lab and outside the lab and combines them to form entirely new scenarios that never really happened (see: Blade Runner 2049 and the manipulated/mash-up memories shenanigans). El has been told she's reliving memories. That is not the case. None of what she's seeing is reliable. It's like when a movie says it's based on a true story.

This fits with what I said about the monologue never having existed at all and NINA being an immersive empathogenic drug trip that pulls from El's outside memories. It also fits with my draft about the Mindflayer ties between Shadow-NINA in the VR, TFS, and NINA in ST4, and my speculation in that same draft about a) NINA specifically running on the Mindflayer, and b) the Mindflayer using familiar humanoid avatars to gain sympathy and coerce its target into joining it.

We see this kind of behavior in Patty in her garnering sympathy from Henry and then insisting that she and Henry run away together to find her mother in the Stardust Casino...regardless of the fact that Henry is still flayed. We see it again in our "Couldn't Possibly Exist" Henry as he garners sympathy from El and then tells El to join him. And then we see it again in Shadow Brenner using the NINA-like maze to learn about Henry as a means to try and coerce him into joining him. It's a continuing theme.

Both Patty and "Henry" want Henry and El, respectively, to accept their offer and leave with them. Both Henry and El reject that offer in exactly the same way:

In my speculative opinion, we see a resurgence of this particular dual-yeeting in Billy and Heather.

Henry in the VR, as we know, has a dubious ending re: escaping the simulation.

This exists in contrast to the other version of NINA Henry, who, much like TFS Henry with Patty, is insistent that El run away without him.

When I say that we have multiple guys, this is what I mean. Their motivations are entirely different. One of these men in NINA is not Henry. It's someone or something masquerading as him. If I had to speculate, I would say that it stems from the Mindflayer and its possible presence in NINA...Especially given the similarities between NINA and the Russian prison, wherein they have a trapped form of the Mindflayer:

In short—Every day it seems more likely that whatever El fought in the massacre was not Henry. It's like I said way way back last year: there's someone else in there with her. Multiple someone-elses, even.

It also seems, if I had to speculate, that rejecting the Mindflayer avatar is what gives El her powers back. This means it may also be what "changed" about One, as mentioned in the plinko scene.

This all also backs what I speculated way back in the day about the blood transfusions being related to immunity against the Mindflayer, either finding it, triggering it, or building it. It seems to function like getting a live vaccine: you're given dose of the live virus, and your body fights it off. In fighting off the Mindflayer, it's entirely possible that the process triggers latent powers in those who have them. Those who don't have the basis for latent powers eventually succumb (see: Will, Billy, the Flayed). Brenner, with NINA, may have been giving El the equivalent of a booster shot.

#st nina project #st5 speculation #henry creel #st: tfs

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bonefall · 11 months ago

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Feel free to ignore you've probably got a lot going on right now, but considering you know a lot about DOTC and Clear sky, I had a question...

We know that he's a terrible, misogynistic, woman beating and war mongering lunatic who was excused of all his actions because his equally misogynistic brother said " But-But he's nice! Deep down! This isn't the real him! "

But! In a world where the Hunters could write such a character, what do you think Clear Sky would look like as an actual sympathetic villain?

Idk if that makes sense, but what I've thought of doing is taking purely cannon Clear Sky and attempting to change him enough that he's still an antagonist, but not too far where only Reddit defends him.

I don't think he works as a sympathetic villain, on any level, ever. I think you're making a huge mistake to even try, and I have never seen an AU where it was done well nor am I interested in entertaining the thought.

Characters. Are. Tools. They exist to tell a story. The story that people tell me, by obsessing over some alternate universe where he was "ACTUALLY sympathetic and had a REAL redemption arc," is that they're not fucking interested in his dozens of victims. Nor do they actually care about the abusive impact he had on the minds and feelings of his family. They're JUST interested in Clear Sky himself.

Just like the Erins. Everything that happens in DOTC revolves around him. Everything. All his wives die so he can be sad about it. His brother defends all of his actions and BEGS you to sympathize with his pain so he can be 'redeemable.' One Eye comes out of nowhere so that there can be an example of "real" evil to contrast Clear Sky so he's less bad in hindsight.

The first three books of DOTC are bad, but the last three are fucking insufferable because SUDDENLY all that Gray Wing apologia pays off, and they take their main villain and throw him out a window. You CAN'T have "redeemable" Clear Sky and the plot of DOTC without dragging in someone else to drive the conflict, to BE the bigger threat to "unite" against. Slash and One Eye have to be conjured up out of thin air so Clear Sky can WHINE about how people only suck his toes instead of deepthroat them after he killed all their friends.

And yet, in spite of this absolute failure of an attempt, we continue to see this bullshit "redemption" be a mistake because Clear Sky is a fantastic villain, with major antagonist roles in nearly EVERY bit of follow-up material for DOTC that came after.

He's the most consistent monster in all of Warriors.

He's a fragile, egotistical, self-absorbed megalomaniac who ALWAYS sees himself as the victim, REFUSING to self-reflect and blaming everything else for all of his terrible choices. He will USE your love of him against you like it's a chain through your nose, step out of line and he will yank you into place with guilt trips, manipulation, public shaming, and violence.

He's a child abuser. He's a tyrant. He abandons the sick and disabled as soon as they're of no use to him, with grand speeches about "illness" and "weakness." He's a murderer who stands above the shredded corpse of his victim and bellows, "I'M NOT GREEDY! I'M JUST STRONG!"

And you'd write a "good" redemption arc for this, why?

Why are people so chronically unable to accept that there are LOTS of people like him, and you can't save your abuser? Why don't you ask yourselves why you're not interested in exploring Thunder, or Petal, or Gray Wing, and how his toxic influence impacts them? Why does the sympathy fall on Clear Sky? What about the DOZENS of victims who are dead by Book 3, and how THEY could have been saved?

Why ruin a perfectly good villain?

What's behind this trend where a billion people say to me, "Yes Clear Sky is a walking cavalcade of fucked up abuse apologia, and an incredibly realistic depiction of an abuser, but how would you change this while keeping it all the same?"

I wouldn't. You can't. It wouldn't be the same story, or it wouldn't be the same character. Never seen it done well, and I have seen it a lot. So I don't entertain this deeply frustrating "Well What If Clear Sky But Nice" impulse.

#The closest I'll ever get to that is Fallenleaf. And she lost it all #And spent years in the time-out tunnel #BAD KITTIES GO IN THE PEAR WIGGLER TO BE SUFFICIENTLY WIGGLED.#I don't think people in power typically change. If they do it's so rare it's not worth entertaining. Camel through the eye of a needle shit #and I mean ALL powers. this goes for abusive relationships too. I think they need to lose that power before they change.#When you have power. REAL power. You can fill those holes with it. You can force people to not leave.#so im actively hostile to stories that winge and cry about giving powerful people endless sympathy and chances #You've already shown me what you want to do with your power and as long as you keep it you haven't seen your consequences.#Power reveals.#It doesn't corrupt. It reveals.#DOTC hate #clear sky's redemption arc #If you're in an abusive relationship or under a terrible boss or in some other bad environment. You won't fix it.#You are not responsible for fixing it.#You can't fix it.#And they will not change. so GET OUTTA THERE #And that's who he functions best as. To me.#He's the bastard you need to escape.#And that's infinitely more compelling to me than Nice Clear Sky Attempt 32324 #I don't write stories that beg you to sympathize with tyrants and keep your heart open to some maybe-change on the horizon #I write stories where they ruin everything they touch and have to be forcefully yanked out of power before they hurt more people.#And also screw every related take that's like 'ohhh after 5000 years of having his toes sucked he regrets it a bit :('#no he fucking wouldn't. he had his toes sucked for 5000 years. He's vindicated by how fondly he's remembered.#You can't fucking tell me that he doesnt REVEL in how violent the culture became. That him being offended about the clan's exile-#--was anything but him being offended his namesake was going away. That he wouldn't parade around like every choice he ever made was right.#''I made some vague mistakes which I will never name. BUT Im never wrong and always did it my way even if it was hard''#If you haven't met a person like that I envy you.#bone babble #Nothing makes me mad quite like this character #Again I yell about his brother a lot because he's widely loved by the fandom

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harmonysanreads · 1 year ago

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The more I read about Neuvillette as a Yandere, the more I realize that he'd have a heck of time with someone who's used to "playing" customer service and using that face and tone of voice. Like the compliments start off innocuous and innocent, then slowly end up developing into compliments that end up playing into the power imbalance between you and him (because when the Chief Justice compliments you, you can't not do it - trapped by societal etiquette!), before either developing into a guilt complex or evolving into a lie that you've decieved yourself to believe. And all the while, Neuvillette's just there, biding him time, watching you come undone due to your own mental machinations. It's only a matter of time with him - both outcomes will end up with you in his arms.

Ah yes, polite and conflict-avoidant darlings, darlings with that particular upbringing, darlings whose morals become their demise, darlings who are hyper-aware of their surroundings and cannot bring themselves to be indifferent, darlings with bleeding hearts ; Yan!Neuvillette will have an astronomically unfair advantage with these types of darlings. It'll become even more of an emotional mess if they behave according to their pity/sympathy/empathy for Neuvillette's own emotional state. Ironically, it's darling passively contributing a good amount to the power dynamic in this case.

But this made me think about the question : how aware is Neuvillette throughout all of this?

Quite predictably, he isn't aware until you or someone else explicitly tells him that the reason for you being on the verge of mentally crumbling is actually him. Then he manages to connect the dots of your barely concealed discomfort of him and he's just like ‘ :( ’ Apologizes until your ears actively reject that word and agrees to give you space. However, the realization that he cannot live without having some form of connection to you crashes without benevolence soon after. Gets the Melusine to watch over you and report your activities every hour (yes, hour) and is always hovering in your radar when he gets the time — except, he's terrible at being discreet and literally everyone in Fontaine and their pets know. This creates a new load of societal pressure on you because how utterly disrespectful it is to ignore the honourable Chief Justice! At that point, you'll have two options : forgive Neuvillette and accept him again (easier, will take effect fast) or, move away from Fontaine (you can try but no one can guarantee you'll succeed).

Yan!Neuvillette doesn't do the calculations, but the odds are always in his favor somehow.

#he's a sopping wet cat #i cannot decide whether i want to smother him or bully him #neuvillette brainrot #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x reader #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader

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judeatheatos · 23 days ago

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darklina - 1026 words - rating: t - boss/employee sickfic au

Aleksander got the text five minutes before his first meeting of the day and ten minutes after he got the email with all the notes he needed, something his assistant would usually be there to deliver in person.

hi mr morozova im sorry im really sick im not gonna be ghere

Another, before he can respond.

im sorry pls dont fire me intried totake some meds this mornign but they didnt do anyhting im sorry

Alina, who never so much as misses a semicolon, sent him a text. With a typo.

He hesitates on what to say for only a moment considering his 9 o’clock is already waiting out in the hall for him, the white 8:58 looking up at him like a timer from the top corner of his phone screen.

It’s alright, Alina. Please stay home today, I’d rather you were recovering than trying to do your job half asleep and on cold medication.

The grey typing bubble appears and disappears several times before she finally responds at 9 on the dot.

thank u sir mr morozova ill be in tomorrkw i promise thank uou

Aleksander sighs, and places his phone face down on his desk. He’ll have to call her at lunch and tell her he can survive without her for a few days.

His call at lunch went unanswered, ringing until all he got was the familiar voice of his assistant saying a very unfamiliar assortment of words: hi, you’ve reached Alina Starkov! I’m not available at the moment, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as you can!

Not available.

Aleksander’s worried. Maybe too much so.

Alina is only his assistant. Sure, he remembers the New Years party as well as she does, the champagne fuelled horribly cliche incident of fucking his assistant in his office while getting even drunker off the sounds she made and off of the taste of her, but after the holidays, when the office opened up again, Alina was quick to tell him that they should forget it ever happened. Aleksander was going to promote her when he had called her in. Bring her closer to his position. Make their…relations a little more acceptable, but he respects her wishes, so he shouldn’t be this worried about someone who’s only his assistant.

Maybe he’s been lying to himself about how much he respects her wishes.

If he truly did, he wouldn’t be standing outside apartment 308 right now holding a hefty plastic bag and a paper cup of green tea that is currently burning his hand. The door opens after a minute, a confused looking man with short, bleached hair staring out at him.

“Can I help you?”

Alright. Aleksander cannot embarrass himself. “I’m here for Alina, I heard she wasn’t feeling well,” he hesitates. “I’m a friend. From work.”

The man nods, then lets him in.

Aleksander toes off his shoes at the door the second he sees them all piled up there, knowing this must be a household very much like the kind he grew up in where wearing shoes on the carpet will get you a smack to the back of the head.

“She’s down the hall,” the man says. “First room on the right.”

“Thank you,” Aleksander says, and follows his directions.

Thankfully, considering his full hands, the door is already open a crack.

“Alina?” he says softly, poking his head through, “are you awake?”

“Mal?” Alina mumbles from the bed, barely visible in the mix of dull pink from the fairy lights and dimmed laptop screen playing a cartoon where two children are currently having ramen made for them.

“No, sorry.”

Alina sits up slightly, and turns to look at the door. It takes her a second, then she’s quickly sitting up and slamming her laptop closed, “Mr. Morozova? What— what are you doing here?”

Maybe he did overstep.

“I had called you at lunch to check on you and you didn’t respond. Maybe I got a little too worried, uhm—” Aleksander holds the plastic bag up higher so she can see, “I brought you some food.”

Alina reaches over for her lamp, washing the room in a soft yellow and showing just how sick she looks. The purple under her eyes, the exhaustion clear on her face. Sympathy curls in his chest, the urge to care for her flaring up to an inappropriate degree.

“What is it?” Alina asks, moving her laptop off of a small lap desk and holding out her hands for it.

“Well,” he hands her the tea first, lets her open it and sniff it to the best of her ability when she’s as congested as she is, “I know you really love that Vietnamese place by our office, so I—”

Alina gasps as she unties the bag. “Mr. Morozova, you brought me pho?”

“I… I did. Is that alright?”

She grins up at him, taking the big container of broth, slightly smaller container of noodles and brisket, and much smaller container of bean sprouts from the bag.

“I would hug you right now but you probably don’t want to get sick,” Alina says, then takes a sip of the broth. “God, you’re my hero.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Aleksander says quietly, “after all you’ve done for me.”

Alina blushes, or maybe she’s just warm. She’s probably just warm.

He should go. He’s definitely overstepping her boundaries now—

“Pull up a chair,” she gestures behind him to the one at her desk, something high-backed in a soft pink. “I’m watching Ponyo, you’ll love it.”

Aleksander does as told, sitting what he hopes is a respectful distance from her.

They watch the movie together in silence, Alina devouring her pho like she hasn’t eaten all day. He knows her. She probably hasn’t. When she’s finished, all her cups and bowls stacked together and her lap desk moved aside, Aleksander nearly jumps as she reaches over and takes his hand.

Alina looks at him, a silent question of consent in her gaze.

Content he isn’t overstepping, perhaps now stepping perfectly in time with her, he squeezes her hand.

She squeezes back.

#darklina #shadow and bone #darklina fic #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #the darkling #alina x aleksander #judethefics

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sillylittleguytm · 5 months ago

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Hi! I saw your requests were open so thought I’d send one in. Could I have Copia with an s/o who gets sick a lot? Because of an autoimmune disease I have called Lupus I get sick a lot and it’s been kicking my butt lately. I just need some soft Copia to take care of me. 💙🖤

Unholy Quarantine

Copia x gn!Reader

Warnings: None. Just sick comfort.

Words: 831

A/N: Ayy this is the first request I've completed! I still have one more to take care of from a while ago but I'm finally returning. Anyway, I hope that this is what you had in mind and thank you for the request!

Copia can tell that you're unwell almost immediately.

He enters the room the two of you share after he arrives back from his duties for the day, and the first thing he hears is the violent coughing coming from inside the bathroom. His expression becomes one of sympathy, a frown gracing his lips. Just as you recover from your previous sickness, you catch something again. You just can’t get a break, can you?

Copia is quick to follow the noise to the source. He sees you in the bathroom with the door open, taking some medication. Immediately, he’s on you, wrapping his arms around your waist and rubbing your middle gently. After the first few times, he stopped caring about the potential of getting sick. He’d rather be there for you during your frequent illnesses than keep his distance. You deserve to be taken care of. “Oh, amore. Where do you ache this time?” He asks gently, pressing a kiss to your head.

Copia is met with a sigh. “Everywhere. It feels like I got tossed down a staircase.” You reply, the congestion evident in your voice. He lets out a quiet chuckle, giving you a gentle, sympathetic squeeze. Then, he gives a small pat on your hip.

“Let’s get you back in bed then, hm?” Copia says. Without giving you time to protest, he begins to guide you out of the bathroom by the waistband of your sweatpants– red to match his own favorite pair. You try to laugh, but it’s quickly intercepted by a rough cough met with a quiet coo from Copia. He lays you down in bed, covering your shivering body with a light blanket to account for your inconsistent body temperature. With a sigh, you curl up underneath it and look up at him wearily.

“C? Can you get me some more tissues? Pretty please?” You ask, looking up at him with tired eyes. He gives a soft sympathetic smile. He could never deny you anything when you’re like this. Hell, he rarely denies you anything when you’re in good health.

“Of course I can, amore.” Copia readily agrees, standing up from his position on the bed to get you a tissue box from the other room. Before he makes it out of the bedroom, you call out to him again.

“Ooh! And maybe you could make me that soup like you did last time?” You suggest. You haven’t wanted to eat much of anything today, and it’s not likely that you’d be able to stomach much. But this soup sounded good. It felt so nice on your sore throat the last time. Copia chuckles.

“Anything for you.” He responds, once again prepared to do whatever you need to help you feel better. You smile at his willingness to help you, appreciative of all that he does for you. You swear to yourself that you’ll return the favor when he inevitably catches this from you.

“Oh yeah, and Copia?” You say, stopping him from leaving once more.

“Yes, amore?”

“Make sure you put some extra love in it.” You say, batting your eyelashes at him playfully with the joking request.

“Okie dokie.” Copia accepts, his tone soft. “This illness has made you extra sappy, I see.” He adds teasingly.

“Ah, I figured that I should be nice to you while I’m on my deathbed.” You say, dramatically draping a hand over your forehead and shutting your eyes. You quickly peek one open in order to view his reaction. Copia simply rolls his eyes. “So dramatic.”

“Yeah, yeah. Make with the soup, soup boy.” You say, resuming your original curled position under the blanket.

This reply makes Copia snort as he finally exits the room, bringing in the box of tissues before leaving your quarters and heading to the ministry kitchen to get started on your soup. It’s not often that he cooks, but for you, he’d take on the responsibility of cooking your every meal if you so wished. Entering the busy kitchen, he finds a corner out of the way of the sisters on dinner duty for the evening and begins to fulfill your request, making the soup with all of the care and love he holds for you in his heart.

Some light labor and some dishes later, the soup is perfected. He walks back quickly so he can give it to you while it’s still warm (and also because he hates leaving you alone when you feel bad). Upon opening the door, he finds you fully asleep in bed, holding a pillow to your chest. Copia sighs, looking between you and the soup.

Should he wake you?

He quickly shakes away the thought, knowing that it was probably hard enough for you to fall asleep given your congestion. The soup could be reheated. In the meantime, joining you in bed sounds like an excellent idea. His embrace is pure love and could warm you like no soup could.

#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #ghost #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv x reader

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katyspersonal · 17 days ago

Text

Stance about proanti disco horse (TW: personal CSA details)

I don't really like being a fence-sitter, especially at the risk that some mutual might grow really attached to me only to feel "backstabbed" once finding out we're not on the same page at all, and since this topic became more active after Fromsoft 'approved of incest' (debatable but it at least looks it!) and a certain person whose server is VERY appropriately literally named "a cult" makes a list of people in Soulsborne fandom to side-eye, avoid and shun, I wanted to say what I think

1) I do NOT sympathise with antis. Just try to accept this. They are insensitive loosers without basic common sense that need an excuse to feel like they are contributing to the "noble battle" and turned out to make lives of survivors of the thing they claim fictional works nOrMaLiZe uwu worse on multiple occasions. They are incredibly vile in what they accuse people of based on what they explore within the safety of fantasy, and as if they are not doing enough harm under guise of "protecting" us, survivors of incest, abuse and pedophilia, they are even eating their own if their fellow antis are "too tolerant" to proshippers. Enough instances of an anti showing sympathy under specific circumstances and being shunned too on the "if you're not with us then you're against us" notion. Antis are CULTS, plain and simple.

2) I am also disgusted by how antis tell proshippers "to seek therapy". Every person has dark impulses deep within, regardless of whether they had trauma they now cope with or not, that many people will never realise they have, and creativity is a healthy way to let them dwell. What person chooses to do with the characters is not a mental illness that somehow ruins them and the world around them. You don't get to hold having """morally better""" dark interests over proshippers and claim to be superior on that matter, and if you claim to not have dark interests at all you are just laughable in your pretence. And above all, I am upset at how trauma that I've survived is trivialised to the fanfics and fanart people can't stand.

3) People who are simply disgusted by incest, abuse and pedophilia in fanworks are NOT antis, however. Antis are people who actively police creativity, try to isolate shipper of the thing from the fandom by DMing people to unfollow them, accuse them of having horrible intentions and paraphilias, tell them to seek therapy and all that. As heartbreaking as it could be to lose a mutual over this problem, disgust is an understandable reaction to such ships and everyone should be allowed to detach from a person that posts something they're uncomfortable with for their own mental health! People have a right to not want to engage with such shippers, that doesn't make them fandom crusaders. It is a mistake that might come from someone's exhaustion with actual antis, but respectable personal discomfort is different so let's not jump onto seeing everyone as an enemy! The difference is: do they see their disgust as a personal boundary, or as a sign that you are a harmful monster they should fight?

4) Not all proshippers are innocent. There is a merit on what you could tell about a person based on what they think of fiction and how they judge it. If you want to be sure, you need to look out for the logic someone puts into their ships. For example, if someone simply discusses their pedophilia ship as something messed up yet fascinating for them, or it feels as though they're never focusing on power imbalance and manipulation aspect of it in their fantasy as horror element but instead it is just a matter of fact, or is a survivor that dwells on their trauma this way wishing their groomer was """nicer""" OR went further - they're basically Just A Guy that doesn't engage with fantasies the same way as you do. Like, it is just a guy ok? However, if they go into spiel about how age is just a number or age of consent in other countries or how maturity is psychology and not amount of years lived or how some teens are presumably mature enough to consent *flashback to yandev's suggestion about 'test for ability to consent'* etc etc..... this is probably a freak. You get the principle. If you can't help being suspicious of someone over their dark interests, you need to hear out this person's logic regarding the concept to tell which one they are, instead of assuming everyone is guilty OR everyone is innocent. Trust me, most proshippers absolutely do not want to make actual predators to feel safe in their 'let's ruin some fictional guys' interests circles, not only the trauma survived ones.

5) (STRONG trigger warning for CSA, skip to #6 if anything) Personally: I don't mind most of the incest and abuse ships. I was living under the same father figure's sexual and just emotional abuse (rarer, physical) since age 8-9 and into late teens, and only could do something to get away from him at the age of 20. Somewhere when my puberty started to kick in, I had a dream that I had an older brother and we were living under this hell together, with him protecting me from him at the expense of enduring worse physical abuse... but we were in supportive "relationship" through it. I think it altered something in my brain chemistry, that made me associate incest ships where one sibling cares for the sick/miserable/weak one and protects them, or where they're up against the same hardship or the same bad guy with safety and warmth instead.

As for the abuse ships, again, during puberty I was having guilty thoughts of seeking """consensual""" sex with my stepfather. He was not allowing me to seek a partner of my age on the side, naturally, and I was going rabid. Nonetheless, I had a will of steel and repressed those feelings, never acting on them, for the sake of what very little remained of my ruined pride. But it left me with the interest of what would happen if not, that I can take out on fictional characters (for example, a certain mutual who likes Sulyvahn x Dancer knows what I am talking about :p). If this is something I must uproot from how my brain developed, I'll do it when I am ready and consider it an improvement, and not when some no-life looser online tells me that what I can do with fictional characters somehow makes me as bad as the person who harmed me. 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️

5.1) Yes, this does mean that my blog is safe for people who like Lorian and Lothric or Miquella and Malenia or alike popular pairings. I don't really 'see' these ships personally (Aldia and Blind Swordsman are better alternatives respectively sorry lmao) but I did like artworks with them; if not because they are drawn well then as expression of support for people to do what they want. You can tell my contrarian bias is sprouting wonderfully No you did not just hallucinate my like under MalMiq fanart in 4 AM delirium and yes I am aware that I have two mutuals who openly ship it (you girls know who you are)

6) Many people avoid these ships purely based on fear of harassment and not because of genuine conviction. I could make an essay on how Miquella and Radahn is aKtUaLy not incest, but on the first glance it is. And you know what happened in the fandom after Fromsoft "approved of incest relationship in their story"? Right, people who don't mind incest ships or even openly support proshippers or even ship this stuff themselves popped up like mushrooms after the rain!! This should be telling that most people are neutral or even interested, and ALL that holds them back is lack of strong support, but what can be stronger than approval of the creator of the darn thing? If you want to make a change in how people engage with fiction and promote healthier alternatives to problematic ships, you cannot do it through holding the threat of isolation and bullying over their heads. The best way to promote healthier ships is to actually ship them, as well as passionately discuss characters who are popular to put into a problematic ship in healthy non-ship context. I think more people should promote their ideas this way, because being afraid is not being convinced and your "allies against weirdos in the fandom 🥺" WILL backstab you as soon as they feel safe to do so. Sure, I will be laughing at how frail that "allyship" turned out to be when that happens. You won't be laughing, though. Allies that are simply here out of fear of harassment are not allies, so watch your back.

7) The argument about "such fanworks help groomers to fish victims" works in reverse. Many people are convinced that a pedo will grab someone's adult x minor fanfic and go at a kid being like "hey do you want something like this? 👀" or similar stuff.. Usage of fanworks really happens to fuel the dynamic when the victim got already on the hook. And when there are no fanworks, the predator will create or commission such works on their own, initiate RPs and whatnot. However, the way questionable fanworks actually help to create new victims is isolation of the person who enjoys such fanworks. Some person, a minor, enjoys an ship between adult and minor, between siblings or noncon, and their peers start shunning them for it from the fandom. They just happen to have no one to confide in about these interests and no one to talk to. Like I said in previous pointer: if someone has these interests, they will not evaporate with fear, they will just get concealed. That person, bullied for what they like to do with fictional characters, will not """seek therapy""" like antis told them. What they WILL seek tho, is someone, anyone who will listen.

And THIS is where an actual predator lurking on some dumb community Discord server will spot the vulnerable, isolated, lonely minor and chime in like, "damn I like this stuff too, we are against the world, too bad people are so judgemental of us, right? :)". Cult-like shunning creates both victims to get scooped by another cult AND victims of individual predators. No matter how much you or anyone else is uncomfortable with certain fanworks and themes, do not allow this "freak" to fall out of the community. It is dangerous out of the loop.

____________________________

Alright I hope that I've made myself clear on the topic. I've been questioning on whether to add something so personal here or not, but decided to do so. The last time I tried to discuss this topic without showing my own wound, I got yelled at for being insensitive looser who'd speak differently had they experienced anything like that personally, so.... :^) There are times where who is speaking matter. I don't want any pity for my trauma, it's alright, really..

At the same time, if you don't like me after this post you can hardblock or softblock without any grudges from my end (pay close attention to number 3 in this post, making personal boundaries is not the same as being an anti)

#tw: csa #tw: incest #fandomry rambles #disco horse #proanti #writing this really hurt me emotionally because of both personal memories and thinking back on how much shit I've seen antis committing #so I need to check out a bit..#normally such posts are invitation for a debate but this one is basically 'I am getting off my fence and showing where I stand'

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